Saturday, March 22, 2008

Anatomy of a Tokyo Ramenya

Just a couple of shots from a late-night ramen shop in Shibuya. Though it is quite small efficiency is still a priority and I sadly missed the most telling sign of this: the vending machine by the door which dispensed tickets for your food. No talking is necessary besides arigato's and maybe a doumo here and there.

Saturday, March 08, 2008

Sunday, March 02, 2008

Testing the Photographic Waters...

Just a smattering of photos from Tetsuo Jinja in Kakegawa. It's a beautiful place but especially while the plum trees are blooming.

Thursday, February 28, 2008

Too Perfect

The Japanese love of baseball is almost as famous as their love of strict gender roles, which is why, when my girlfriend asked me what a good movie to watch with her night class would be, I immediately thought of A League of Their Own. Watched in any country it's an enjoyable movie full of important lessons including the essential, "there's no crying in baseball!," but it seems especially poignant in a country like Japan where they are, in many ways, behind when it comes to gender equality. This makes the Japanese version's title of, "Pretty League," telling AND hilarious.

Monday, February 25, 2008

Behind a Window

The sun, bright outside
I watch the seconds fall and
rise, aged, from my desk

Thursday, February 07, 2008

Activities not on Rick Steve's list of things to do while in Perugia...

This is a bizarre story about a murder in Italy involving a young girl from Seattle and other folks from various parts of the world, maybe. I read about it a while back but had forgotten how strange it was until I stumbled across this feature in The Stranger.


I want to mention something that has been throwing my subconscious off for as long as I've been in Japan but which I have just brought to my conscious mind today: after lunch tooth-brushing. I'm not sure whether all Japanese do this or just teachers, but everday after lunch brushes emerge from hello-kitty cases and I become ever so slightly perturbed. Today, like I said, I realized this and have deduced the reason why. Brushing one's teeth in another's presence, to me, seems an intimate act; something done with family, girlfriends, and friends whom accompany you on poorly funded vacations. Watching my co-workers brush their teeth is just a few steps below brushing the sleep from their eyes. We're not that close. Plus, if this is general practice in Japan we have to conclude that it is largely ineffective.

Did I neglect to mention...

that one of the top candy bar makers in Japan goes by the utterly great name of Crunky? I would not be surprised to learn that one of Lil Jon's dreams was crushed when they got that copyright.

Monday, February 04, 2008

The Coolest Kid in School

Often, the "coolest" kids in junior high school are not those who are the most academically inclined. This temporary reverse meritocracy occurs in Japan as well. The girls whose affections are most sought after are those who hike their skirts the highest, enduring relentless and ineffective reprimands. These girls almost seem to compete to see who can say "I just don't seem to understand English" in the most cutesy Japanese possible. The boys are no different. This said, it should be unessesary to relate that Yusuke, whose status as ichiban kakoi (coolest) is apparent in his every action, whether it be meandering out of class in the midst of a lesson, fighting, or sagging his uniform like it was 1998 is no scholar of English. Thus, I found it endlessly amusing and endearing when while reading the students winter diaries (most of which were cookie cuttered right out of the book) I came across Yusuke's of which the entirety celebrates his girlfriend Mao.

I love Mao.
I enjoyed playing with Mao
Our anniversary is 2nd.
She is most important for me.
I had a good time with Mao.

Not only was Yusuke's the most creative; it was also the most honest. I also liked the hearts he illustrated it with.

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

Why The Mafia Doesn't Mess With Waste-Disposal In Japan

The Japanese love of organization, compartmentalization, and perhaps most press-it-to-your-heart-and-sigh-ingly, of unity (homogeneity?) is no secret. The flood of black-suited workers to the cities every morning, the uniformly uniformed students who greet the line of teachers waiting before the schools’ entrances, even the cookie cutter layouts and substance of every city seem to betray a reverence for similitude rarely seen elsewhere. With this said, it should come as no surprise that the disposing of one’s garbage would be a task almost Herculean in its exactitude and nearly reaching the tremendous heights of annoyance achieved by J-Pop singers. But who would have thought it’d be so well policed?
My section of my neighborhood has its refuse pick-up point about two blocks from my apartment. It is a rudimentary but sturdy metal box with grated sides that would comfortably fit about eight standing adults. (perhaps 5 if they were American) The regular collection dates are Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday. The former and the latter are for burnables-of which I have a very specific list-and Wednesday is for plastics. Other items have separate collection dates once a month. Were I a newspaper subscriber I would only be able to rid myself of the spent print once a month. Same goes for bottles, jars, and cans. What if you are out of town that one day? Then you have a couple of bags of paper sitting in a corner in your kitchen. And if you then miss it again, and again, and two more times after that you likely have a kitchen that looks similar to mine.
I take my recyclables and trash to the collection site on my way to school-approximately 7:30-as it remains locked the night before. One might think that by this point it would be easy, that I would simply sling the bags from my bike’s handlebars and leave them in their place. Well it surely would be, were it not for the vigilant morning-trash-volunteer who waits, with possible sadistic glee, to reprimand me every collection day.
The first scolding I got occurred when, after running out of the designated burnables bags, I had resorted to using the recyclable materials bag instead. I was promptly turned away, bags in hand. I was also turned away later for trying to skate by with grocery bags. My thoughts were being that everything there was trash, and that all the neighborhood was doing trash, the truck would only be carrying trash leaving little possibility for confusion. This reasoning is beyond my grasp of Japanese and I had to leave it with a skeptical look.
The next time was perhaps a manifestation of the importance of respect in Japanese culture, perhaps just that of my trash-volunteer’s growing fondness for the subject of his free time. Either way, I was chastised for brazenly letting the bags fall from my hands to the piles of other trash bags rather than gentle setting them upon their kin-for which I was given a tutorial.
After that I was informed I needed to be writing my name and address on my bags in case they contained contraband.
Last Tueday, after gently positioning my named, address, and properly bagged trash atop the pile, I was feeling pretty confident. Trash volunteer, however, not to be deterred, looked at my bicycle and asserted cheerily, “You have no light on your bike. Very dangerous.”

Monday, January 21, 2008

Wish I could of seen the whole thing.

I can't decide if the debates are getting better or worse.

Thursday, January 17, 2008

  I invented a great little activity yesterday. Great in many ways actually: It gives students the opportunity to speak, listen to, and write English. It requires actual thought and expression of said original thought in English, rather than the sadly standard regurgitation. The students love the element of competition. And, most importantly, it elicited this response to why New York City might be famous:

"It has a free she god." And
"Freedam gad is in there." And
"It has free Venus."

You got it yet? No? That would be The Statue of Liberty. I actually am pretty pleased with it because this is exactly the kind of English practice they don't usually get. Making combinations of related words when you don't know the exact word or phrase is an important skill which Japanese students can often be too shy (or just lacking in opportunity) to practice. Accordingly, and because it may just be a better name for her, the first of the above sentences got the points.