onsen

Went to an onsen (japanese bathhouse/sauna) yesterday and bathed with a number of middle-aged naked japanese men. An experience i will cherish for a lifetime. They all looked at me funny, i suppose because i had more hair on my one arm then they had on their entire bodies, but i was soon accepted as some charming sasquatch i suppose. No one spoke to me, God forbid. It was actually very nice, soaking in mineral water and resting my head on some rocks while quietly contemplating the clouds being brushed along the sky. And inside too, the interior a tiled space with small seats and shower hoses and mirrors, and the heated bath in the back with water jets pushing thin torrents through the pool, bubbling up like so many blooming flowers.
Okay, getting too poetic now even for my taste. Must be the insanity creeping in from a morning of complete isolation. Back to real life!

kobe and vietnamese food

So Kobe was nothing more than a big city, if you didn't catch my point in the last entry. Frustration, one may call it, but entirely justified from someone who cringes at the sight of industrialization. Excuse me for wanting to hug a tree once in a while, but sometimes i get the urge. There was much walking, the three of us being Alex the Canadian and Michelle the Briton and I, and there was absolutely no accomplishing of goals, though there were many humble goals to be accomplished, such as buying Alex a digital camera, finding a bookstore that happened to be closed down, finding another bookstore that happened to be closed, and getting to the top of a high-rise building via elevator. We almost achieved that one, except that the elevator never went up after we got off on the second-most high floor, which was the "Sky Lounge". Apparently, the top floor was a private restaurant, and when the door finally opened I asked the woman in the elevator if it was going up, in Japanese, and she replied in English, No, down! Alex observed that it was in fact going up, and that she had lied through her teeth. Perhaps we weren't dressed in our Sunday best. But that's no excuse to lie to us, let alone in our own language! Kobe's special is beer-fed cow meat, and the prospects of eating this delicacy did not exactly thrill me. So all in all, Kobe is a Japanese city. Nothing much more to say. They have good Indian food though.
After this charade which proved to be highly entertaining mostly because we achieved absolutely nothing, I hopped back on the bus and arrived in Tokushima in time to go to dinner with a Vietnamese family who invited me out. The wife of the family is my classmate in Japanese class, and i had helped her husband with the grammar in his biochemistry paper. He works as a post-doc in Tokushima University. They had taken me out to lunch already and bought me a white dress shirt, and now dinner at a Japanese-Vietnamese restaurant. So generous I had to get them a small box of little cakes in Kobe. The dinner was interesting because I conversed with the wife and child in Japanese and the husband in Engish, because despite spending 5 or so years in Japan, spoke nor understood a word of the country's language. He was the only one whose English was good though.
That is that and more will surely come.

the Japanese city

Well, here's the breakdown. I went to Kobe today and i have concluded that all Japanese cities are built the same way. Here are some of the rules for building a modern Japanese city:
1. No trees or green areas are allowed inside the city. There may be enormous mountain forests bordering it, but nothing alive is allowed inside besides humans and their dogs, which may be carried in shopping carts or fashionable bags if small enough.
2. There must be enough pachinko parlors to increase the noise level appropriately within the city. The flashing neon lights will help to promote a healthy blindness in all citizens or induce entertaining seizures.
3. All food items must be packaged in plastic wrap in order to be deemed eatable. Expensive fruits as well must have plastic covering their entire surfaces, and all goods purchased must be wrapped in at least one, preferably two, plastic bags.
4. Cement shall replace and cover anything reminding us of the natural world.
5. The taller the buildings, the better. The more stores per square meter the better. If there is a space lacking a store, one must be erected in that space. If one is anywhere in the city and a commercial development is not in direct view, the city planner should be replaced immediately.
6. Young people must stand out in the street, with or without voice amplifiers, and shout at passers-by to purchase such-and-such an item, go into such-and-such a store, or give blood.
7. Young people, especially young women, must be dressed in the most ridiculous clothing on the market, preferably clothes that are based on some warped version of current European fashion. Young men may wear T-shirts with incomprehensible English slogans.
8. Reminders of traditional Japan shall either be removed completely or left to stand out starkly against the background of progress. Small shrines are permitted to stand on street corners as long as they are surrounded by advertisements and expansive shopping malls. Temples and such are allowed outside of city limits.
9. Vending machines shall replace trees in abundance and they shall sell drinks which shall all taste strikingly similar.

If these rules are strictly adhered to, the city may be safely called modern Japanese. There are many places in Japan that are not yet "modern", and these places are still suffering from a lack of progress and concrete. Perhaps one day, i will be able to go to any place in Japan and enjoy all the comforts of unbridaled capitalism.

i am obsessed with food

But why? I spent days dreaming of the peanut butter that my grandparents sent me in the mail, and i received it this evening, and after working out i rushed home and immediately threw the novelty-sized Japanese toast in the toaster. And when i went to the store right before going home to buy soap, i ended up also buying half an Asian pumpkin, some dried kintoki beans, and a bag of shiitake mushrooms. Don't get me wrong, i am fully enjoying my pumpkin ramen with mushrooms, but really now! What is the matter with me?
I know exactly what it is. I get frustrated with life here, and i have pent up anger about something, and food is my comfort. For example, today Michelle and i walked into an anime store and a bunch of teenagers sitting on the steps all said "Hello!" to us, onyl wanting our response, which i gave the instinctively, and then they all laughed and repeated me. I don't like being a circus clown. Maybe i should break out into a jig next time for their enjoyment. Or yell "Yeehaw!" and do some lasso tricks. God, just imagining what response i would get by addressing every Asian person in NYC i see with a loud and enthusiastic "Ni hao!"
But i know it's a different country with a different situation, and i doubt that these kids mean any harm, they are just surprised and excited to see a caucasian individual. But what disturbs me is that i can never disappear, or blend in, and i will always be very noticeable no matter what i do, or how much Japanese i learn. And in Japan, i will never be Japanese, even if i get citizenship, because many people here only see those of Japanese origin as entitled to be Japanese. But if i was Asian, at least i wouldn't be stared at in the street. I hate feeling like i have some role to play, and if i don't, it disturbs people. If i speak Japanese, any Japanese, people become so surprised and begin to insistently praise my skill, although only a few words come out of my mouth. It is ridiculous to assume a foreigner in your country will not know a word of the country's tongue. Yet many Japanese people sincerely believe that caucasians want nothing to do with Japanese culture, language, and people. I do not know where this comes from, but it is bothersome, because the Japanese are a secret people in many ways, but mostly secret to foreigners. There seems to always be a side they are hiding from you, and they usually appear uncomfortable speaking to you. Young people are an exception, but not always.
So ends my complaints for now. I could go on forever, and i think often about my constant complaining and whether or not i am justified. Probably not, considering everyone else seems to have gotten over most of the initial culture shock. Perhaps i am just too sensitive for this kind of initiative, dashing out of the country and expecting to settle nicely and comfortably in a foreign country. Is Japan different from others countries? I think so, but i haven't been to other Asian countries where the culture would be more similar than a Western country's. But the combination of a strange obsession with the U.S., a history of rapid modernization from a relatively unmodern system, and a society that frowns upon individualism and encourages humble and introverted behavior yields something quite unique, i believe. Perhaps i would feel more comfortable with it all if i could express myself, explain myself to others, but instead i feel like a mute, or rather like a smiling moron who communicates on the level of a toddler.
Man, i really cannot stop complaining. End transmission.

christmas carols

I sang christmas carols today because my friend Erin promised me a cookie party afterwards. When she told me of this party over the phone, my exact quote was, "I'll sing anything you want for free cookies!" And i did, except that the cookies never came. There was a horrendous mistake and miscommunication abound, and although i forgave her for it all, i praised jesus christ in all forms, including the baby one, in the cold of night in the center of town beneath a large department store with other carollers for absolutely no reward besides a possible place in heaven and a sore throat. But it was fun in a way, belting out christmas songs in a town where most people do not understand a word i'm saying. And although i traditionally despise christmas songs, it wasn't half bad, and some of the songs were fun to sing. I know Judah the Maccabee will be disappointed to read this, feeling as though he fought the Greeks and lit the menorah in the newly liberated temple for nothing, but i am hoping he hasn't caught up with the internet yet. Fear not, Yehudah! For i still am loyal to my roots, and i shall spin the dreidel a few times for you, old friend. And the next bite of latkes i take shall remind me of the holy oil that burned for a miraculous 8 days in that holiest of places.
And i shall plug in my electric menorah with pride and set the timer correctly this time, so that the lights go on in synchronization with the passing nights. And i have just purchased a computer game called "1000 Dreidel Games" that features numerous variations on the classic game of old, but with the convinience of playing on my PC--i can spin the dreidel with a click of my mouse! No more blistered fingers from those late-night dreidel fests (sorry Yehudah--i will click the mouse for you in tribute instead)! And when i purchase my plastic bag of frozen bite-size "Shlomo's Finest" brand latkes, i will be reminded of the merrymaking that must have ensued after the repurification of the great temple (sorry holy oil--corn oil will have to do this time around)!
But wait... hanukah seems to have ended already. So queer--what with all the reminders around town, the lit menorahs in the windows and the smiling schul-goers sporting their finest keepas and talis. How could i forget? How could it all just slip past me?
These and more questions answered soon.

i cannot stop eating peanuts

I'm eating peanuts like it's going out of style. Well, at least i'm only writing when the important things happen, like now when i am gorging on peanuts. This is one of the only live journals that actually actively discourages its readers from reading further. Congrats to all you persistent fans who held out on the tepid sea without a gust of wind to speed you onward. There shall be no wind in this blog either. Besides the unavoidable fact that i am ravenously cracking the shells of peanuts and shoveling them into my gullet with the urgency of a poor starved hobo given a big bowl of steaming gruel. And why am i stuffing my face with legumes? Part of it is hunger, part is the fascination with opening the shells by pressing them between the thumb and fingers and squeezing gently until a small snap is heard and this is when the feasting begins, part of it is probably the effects of being alone in the house and not knowing what to do with myself, and part is definitely my unexplainable and unjustified love for peanuts, in all their many forms and matter states, except the gaseous which gives me a severe cough.
Do not let the length of this blog fool you. At no point shall i discuss anything of relevance. Unless peanuts happen to be a key issue for you. Which they are for me at the moment, but not so much the peanuts themselves but the journey they make from stringy fragile pupa to the hydrochloric ocean of my inner stomach. They reach the acid pit masticated and finally undergo the chemical reactions they were waiting for, the essential end-result that will render them available to the protein-thirsty cells of my body. They cry, cry for more peanut, and my feeble fingers cannot manipulate and crush the delicate shells fast enough to satiate them.
But as i wrote this, and abstained from inhaling more peanuts, i have realized that all my body needed was a bit of time to process all the fuel i have given it, and it is now satisfied and even a bit precariously full. Just goes to show you how an ounce of patience can win the toughest battle, be it against a spontaneous and bestial addiction to peanuts, or something else unrelated.
A nice story and a moral to go along.
Goodnight.

the land of the manly tofu

This country is one of few where the manliest of men eat tofu and are not ashamed. Including myself. And no one laughs when i say the word tofu, and no one calls me a hippie for fantasizing about it, or for that matter, a creep. I taught my first kid today and we spent most of the time throwing darts at flash cards, running around the room, and coloring with filthy crayons. I think he had the time of his life. Life is back to normal now. I come home, i cook dinner, i lose some precious time on this blasted ordinateur, i do some japanese studying or reading, then i crawl into my futon, drape the heavy covers over myself, and drift off into a dreamworld with soft tofu clouds and young German children made of tofu. And it doesn't change, but this doesn't bother me yet. I suppose the tedium will catch up with me and i will finally have an unwanted revelation that my life here is nearly pointless, and that it would be better to run back home. This is tempting, no doubt, but the rewards to reap here, both the intellectual and monetary ones, are too much of a pull. There are the cultural rewards too. Come to think of it, the temples in Kyoto were kind of nice. And those geishas were really darling. Yes, there are reasons to stay too, but it all just makes me appreciate Old Glory all the more, and it helps me to more fully support all of Uncle Sam's wacky international escapades. This is all making me a better American, so i should be thankful. I just wonder what the tithe tax will be when i return, and when my labor duties begin for the construction of King Bush's glorious new castle, rising high above the quaint town of Washington D.C. All hail the wise and powerful Boy-King whose signature smirk shall instill fear in the lesser peoples of the world! God bless America! And the purple mountain's majesty too, currently being drilled for oil.

buddha, falafel, deer crackers

Today i visited the culture-jammed city of Nara, just an hour from Kyoto. Nara used to be the old capitol of Japan until it was moved to Kyoto, which was eventually moved to Tokyo in the modern era. But Nara is the center of a bunch of stuff, including the enormous bronze statue of the buddha and lots of temples and shrines. And as you may have guessed, dear reader, i saw such an enormous bronze statue of buddha, and marveled appropriately. It was one of those things that i never imagined i would ever see, but there i was, appreciating the moment as much as was humanly possible, with all my might. It is housed in the largest standing wooden structure in the world, a giant temple with big golden horns. There are other lesser bodhisatvas inside in statue form, but don't ask me to explain what a bodhisatva is. All i know from reading the English explanation of the inscriptions and drawings on the lotus petals adorning the statue's foundation is that a holy man became a buddha a long time ago and a thousand million light rays shot out from him and he produced a thousand millions Mount Sumurus and a thousand million lesser buddhas, which may be related to the bodhisatvas, which i believe are greater dieties that are inhuman and that must be prayed to. I was thinking of taking up Buddhism, but it seems like a bit of an undertaking just understanding what i would be doing as a Buddhist, or even understanding anything about the dieties i'd be praying to. This is Japanese Buddhism of course, which is often intermingled with Shintoism and numerous folk beliefs, and whatever else is hip at the time. I think Jesus and Santa Claus might be bodhisatvas now too, along with David Beckham and Godzilla.
I went to Nara with Martin, and we ate at a falafel shop (i was ecstatic to find it) that sold hemp beer and had the word vegan on the menu. The owner, also named Takashi, is mega-interested in biodiesel and conservation, and he gave me his info because i told him i'd like to help out with conservation efforts and anything involving hippies. So exciting!
Did i mention that Nara is the free-roaming deer capitol of Japan? Tokyo doesn't hold a candle to Nara's deer capacity, or their business of selling deer crackers at stands for eager tourists who like getting head-butted by hungry deer. They also like to lick. There are numerous signs around with angry cartoon deer and a large shocking bubble underneath that says "Dangerous!" in Japanese, along with warnings and precautions. The deer are considered holy, and therefore enjoy complete freedom in the parks and, basically, wherever they want to go. Sounds like paradise? Nearly.
So i am back home now and it feels good to have my own room again, and not be on my feet with a camera constantly looking around, and temples are nice, but after the tenth one they just aren't as exciting anymore. I still like them though, but i am not as astonished as i used to be, jaw-dropping and all.
until later--

golden temple, monkeys, shogi

So yesterday, i traveled with Martin from Hong Kong and Takashi from somewhere near Tokyo (met at the hostel), and we bought a day-pass for the chikatestu (subway) and basu (bus). We went to Kinkakuji (the Golden Temple), famed for its precarious positioning in a carp-filled green lake nestled between tall hills full of beautifully colored trees in the autumn season. Apparently, our timing was perfect. The temple itself literally shines, and i swore they must paint it every day, or do something to maintain its luster. Afterwards, we journeyed to the Kyoto Monkey Park, which is basically a nature reserve and research station right outside the bustling city full of Japanese monkeys, or macaques. At the top of the mountain, the monkeys are fed sweet potatoes and fruits, and when you finally reach it, you are suddenly surrounded by monkeys, large and small, and screeching and marking territory and begging for food at the wire fence where tourists are allowed to feed them from specially bought plastic bags of apples and peanuts. I enjoyed watching the babies roll around with each other and squeak at their mothers, tugging emphatically at their long shaggy fur. After the park, Martin parted ways with us after a long sleepy bus ride and Takashi and i walked around the city center looking for bamboo craft materials for his friend, and we stumbled upon a long narrow market where mostly fish, tofu, tsukemono (pickled vegetables), and wagashi (Japanese sweets) were sold. Luckily, we also chanced upon a Nepali restaurant and dined there happily... i was thankful to finally eat some real curry. We traveled back to the hostel afterwards and spent the rest of the night hanging out in the common room, playing chess and drinking beer, coffee, tea, and whatever else we could find to poison ourselves. I almost tapped into the laundry detergent but decided against it--i dislike the smell of artificial citrus. Takashi taught me the marvelous game of Shogi, or Japanese chess, which is quite similar to Chinese chess in that all the pieces are kanji, but has the dissimilar characteristic of the concept of "powering-up" your pieces once they reach your opponents side. Much like the swapping of a brave pawn for a queen, but in this case nearly all your pieces can get upgrades. Simply sublime. Then i got three hours of blissful sleep, and before i knew it i was down here writing this. Cheers!