Thursday, December 17, 2009
When I was a kid, there was this really good musical I liked called "Into The Woods." It was a wonderful fairy-tale-with-a-twist story, with Bernadette Peters playing the Witch. Great stuff. And, as it is with so many things, when I got older, the story began to mean different things to me. Being little and not world wise, I just liked the singing. Now, each song has an important moral, be it about the pains of growing up, or realizing that you can't always tell right from wrong.
There's one song that the Witch sings, called "Last Midnight" that always stuck in my mind. You see, in the story a giant is threatening a whole villiage unless they give up this one boy to them. No one want to do that and they all begin to blame each other for starting the mess in the first place. The Witch cuts in, basically saying that they know the right thing to do is to give up the boy to save everybody, but everyone is too spineless to do it. Her words: You're not good/You're not bad/You're just nice/I'm not good/I'm not nice/I'm just right/
It sucks having to do the right thing sometimes, although in this story they were able to get around it, but the Witche's words really rang true for me. Being a nice person isn't the same as being a good one. A nice person is someone you can't always trust, who takes the easiest road that pleases the most people. A good one always tries to do the right thing, even when it's difficult.
A guy down the street from me a couple days ago asked if one of us could drive him somewhere before we went to work. We didn't know this guy particularly well, certainly not well enough to take him somewhere alone in one of our cars. The answer was always going to be "no" but what bothered me was how the "no" was said.
I told him we all got up pretty early (around 5:30) which was too early for him. This was a lie, we don't get up that early, but pretty early for most people. And we would have had to get up even earlier to take him. It would have been quite inconvienent and a hassle and not I, nor anyone else within earshot, wanted to do it. I like my pattern, getting into work on time and leaving at a set time, and if I have to mess that up, there had better be a good reason.
Why didn't I just tell him that? Why lie? That was the "nice" thing to do. But really, it was the worse thing because he knew we were lying (he'd seen us leave at later times) and it was really an offense to both our intellects that I thought he would believe it.
As I went to bed, I continued to talk to this man in my head. "We would have had to get up real early to take you, and then you'd have to wait for the place to open, I don't want some stranger in my car." I was annoyed with this man for messing up my night with these guilts and self-doubts, but really I was annoyed with myself for being nice and not the (hopefully) good person I try to be.
Monday, November 23, 2009
It all started so innocently. Scott was texting a friend out in AZ, and I asked what he was typing so much about (it sounded like paragraph after paragraph from the clicks). He gave me a wry smile and a "none of your business" response. I was not going to take that kind of talk lying down (though we were in bed at the time, so I guess I did kinda). He elaborated only that it was "about me" and that it was "all good." I was perturbed, but at least it didn't sound BAD.
The next hint was a week or so later, when Scott's mother took us upstairs to look at her mother's jewelry. Into his hands she pushed several diamond laden rings and necklaces, giving him knowing looks and smiling alot (though she smiles alot anyway, so maybe that didn't mean anything).
At this point, I knew Something Was Up.
"Okay." I thought. "He's gearing up to give me some kind of fancy jewelry for Christmas." Nevermind that I don't wear alot of jewelry and never really expressed any interest in the stuff, but whatever. It's the thought that counts right?
But it could be for something else...something more permanent. My mind started racing in circles like a little rat wheel. Is he going to go for it? After all this time, is this it? Around and around, for days I thought, living in anticipation of the moment he might spring.
For me, being in control of everything in my life is not a huge deal. I'm easy, mostly able to go with the flow. Is everyone happy and comfortable? Then so am I. However, I do make a point to be "in the know" when it comes to what's going to happen in the near future. Are we going to a new movie this weekend? I want to be informed. Are we throwing a surprise party for a friend? Please don't tell me this a day before the event. Being able to plan and maximize everyone's enjoyment is something I really like, nay, need.
So after a couple of days, the suspense was figuratively killing me. What is he going to do? When is this thing happening? Where? I wanted to look nice, to know what to say, how to say it. But you can't plan something that's supposed to be a surprise to YOU. So I stewed.
There was one thing I wanted, and that was for it to not be a big deal. In fact, if it could be just us, that would be perfect. None of this flashy "you're on the jumbo-tron!" crap. And every time I thought about it, one place came to mind.
The Assabet NWR, a beautiful piece of conserved land. Back during WWII, it was owned by Fort Devens and used to store ammunition. Because of this, the land not only has sprawling marshes teeming with wild life, but also massive bunkers built into the landscape. The bunkers are huge, but they are so overgrown with moss, grass, and trees that you could walk within 10 feet of one and not know it. There's other evidence of human activity spotted around, and even though we've crossed the property several times, we always find something new.
I love this place. And I feel close to Scott when we're there. The best parts of him come out. His patience, his love of nature, his stillness. The place is quiet and few come there, especially during this time of year.
So I started suggesting that we go, that we see what the changing of the seasons and recent rain activity had uncovered, that I loved going there with him. So he said we'll go on Saturday.
I wasn't expecting anything to happen. I thought it was a nice place to be with him, just us. And I thought maybe, in the future, he would remember it was that way and take me back there. So I dressed as I always would, in a dumpy sweatshirt and crap-pants in case I fell in some mud (as I was wont to do).
It was morning and the place was cool, and we walked the trail down to the marsh area. It was partly flooded and we had to step gingerly around the new little rivers that were forming. There were hawks and ducks and mergansers and geese in the marshes. We walked while they fussed quietly and the day heated up. Eventually we began walking between the paths, stepping in areas that had not felt human feet for months. After a while, we came upon a new bunker, almost missing its dark and silent frame. It had no number, and the most interesting thing was the tree next to it that had absorbed a bittersweet vine, making the trunk look like a corkscrew. Pushing on, we came to a different smaller trail, and an official notice saying certain parts of the conserve were closed to hikers while they constructed a new visitors center. No problem, we weren't really near those areas, but it was Scott who spotted something strange in the trees beyond.
At first I thought it was some discarded bit of construction equipment, but a closer look showed it to be the scaffolding for some tower, only incomplete and fallen over from rot at its base. Despite the obvious age, it was still bright red like it had been painted yesterday.
“It’s probably something they forgot to clean up from when this was a base.” Scott said, switching out his far sighted lens for the short one.
“That is so cool.” I love seeing old structures overgrown by nature, thus my fascination with the bunkers. Scott snapped a few pics while I inspected the remains. The metal on the legs connecting it to the ground was rusted completely over and cracking. It was short, only 5 feet or so, and looked like there was more at one point, but it had decomposed. It was amazing to see, to wonder who had built it and why, fifty odd years ago, they never came back for it.
I stepped back next to him, smiling, happy with our find. Happy in this quiet place, bare branches above our heads, brown leaves below under our feet.
His hand moved fast. Before I could comprehend it, there was a white box open in front of me, and a diamond ring glinting in the soft light. I couldn't believe it, everything that I had thought about and had been building inside me for so long, my mind shut down from the shock of staring at it. But I was looking at him when he asked me.
There were a few seconds where I was having trouble understanding his words. Agonizing for him, but my brain needed to hard reboot. Finally I took the box and croaked out “With all my heart.” I then burst into tears.
I'm ecstatic. My journey with him has been such a fairy-tale, from being highschool sweethearts to finding each other again at the end of college. But rather than seeing this as my Happily-Ever-After, I'd rather it be my "Once upon a time..."
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
My boss gave me some good advice the other day. She told me to write down as much as I can remember from Japan through the next few days as stuff comes to me, or I might forget it. It's true there is much that I'm remembering only just now, and I'm sure little flashes of things will come to me with time, reminding me of a specific event or memory, especially as I rifle through all our pamphlets and receipts.
So above, I would like to introduce you to Straw-san! Almost from the moment I entered the country, Straw-san was my constant companion. Remember how I mentioned on our first night, we went to Family Mart, the convenience store inside the hotel? Well, I bought a small carton of coffee-milk while there. I didn't drink it that night, but the next morning as we hustled to the shuttle to the station, I popped it in my purse. On the bus, I was drinking delicious sweet coffee beverage, but I'm an adult, so I never used the straw. It had, in fact, fallen off the carton and into the depths of my purse.
Suddenly Straw-san was everywhere. Every time I took out my camera, or the map, or the english/japanese dictionary, he would be stuck to it! The refrain was always "Haha, do you need a straw for that?" But as silly as it was, I couldn't bring myself to throw Straw-san away. He seemed so eager to help. Eventually his little piece of glue came off, so he stopped sticking to everything, but I made sure he stayed in my purse no matter what. And when I cleaned out my purse at my house back in America, he was there too. Who would think such a little straw would make such an incredible journey?
Another thing that I remember about Japan was Kyoto tower. The tower is basically a Seattle type space needle looking thing, only not nearly as tall. It's right next to Kyoto station and was a reference point for us whenever we got lost. There are a bunch of business places inside, mostly for tourists, but we saw a lot of people there, including a bunch of school kids.
The thing about schools in Japan is they go a long way to make every child look the same. Uniforms are strictly enforced, with children not even allowed to use different types of socks (even if they are the same colour). Conformity is held in the highest regard on all levels. So when I saw a girl in a crowd of highschoolers who was obviously half Caucasian half Japanese, I was taken aback.
I am ashamed to say I stared at her, because it was something so rare and unique that I couldn't look away. Massive crowds of asian faces with only slight variants, laughing and jabbering, and she stood in the middle of it, quiet in the tumult. She looked adorable in her uniform, but as soon as she saw me, we locked eyes. I don't know what mine said, but I know what hers did. "Go away, I'm trying to fit in. Leave me alone."
I could tell that school life for her must be hard. She wasn't talking to anyone around her, and didn't have a phone in hand like half the students there. She was probably being excluded from certain social groups and functions, likely only had a couple of friends. I wished she could know how much she and I had in common, and not just because she too, was an accidental gaijin in Japan.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
The museum wasn't open yet, so we decided to feed the deer. There are about 1200 deer in Nara Park and they are sacred. Hundreds of years ago, the people believed the deer to be forest spirits and were therefore never hunted. In fact, the deer were actively fed and cared for by the locals. Because they are sacred animals, the Japanese bow to them before giving them a cracker (sold by fender in the park for an inflated price, of course). The deer learned this behavior and have started bowing back, knowing they will get treats if they do. Because of this it has become quite the tourist destination
I have wanted to see the deer for a long time, ever since I found videos online of them bowing and following people. I expected them to be cute and persistent like goats on farms or something. When we got to the park, there were several deer sitting around and we fed them carrots. Down the path a bit was a vendor, and a bunch of kids going to school. They were messing with a group of younger deer, feeding them crackers and petting them. The deer seemed a little more aggressive than I was expecting. I bowed to them and handed them crackers, which they ripped from my hand. We started moving away from the group but one of the deer bit me in the butt! Luckily I was wearing jeans so it didn't hurt me as much, but Bobbie got bit in the side of the stomach. No blood, but a definite bruise. The kids didn't seem fazed (I actually think they were laughing at us) so we threw the rest of the crackers at the deer and left quickly. All in all, not a very positive experience, re-enforcing my belief that Nara is a tourist trap.
The museum was nice, but nothing special. It was small and we couldn't take many pictures. However, while in the Buddah section, Bobbie discovered the statue she wanted to get for her grandmother's grave.
I'd suggested the idea a day ago, that a statue from Japan for Gram's grave would be a nice touch for the end of the trip. At the museum, we encountered the Amida Buddah, or the St. Peter of the Buddist pantheon. Bobbie thought it would be perfect for the gravesite.
It became a quest. We scoured parts of Nara, but no one seemed to understand what we wanted. We needed a statue of the Amida Buddah and we needed it to be stone or bronze so that it wouldn't disintegrate in the rain and weather. Everyone seemed at a loss, and the moment we mention “ohaka” (grave) we were shut out. The Japanese do not like talking about death or graves or anything like that. Heck, finding a cemetery to take a picture of was a near impossible task as they are completely hidden from public view.
Finally we looked at one another and said, “Kyoto.” Kyoto where the people understood us, or at least seemed to have some empathy and not treat us like stupid foreigners. On the train we went, 45 minutes back to the part of Japan that actually felt like Japan to me.
It took several shops, but everyone made a serious attempt to help us and then recommend another shop down the street that may be able to help us. Finally we stopped in a little shrine shop in front of a temple where a young woman welcomed us in. We explained our plight as best we could, as most of the Buddah statues were gold plated and meant for inside use. After much hand wringing and dictionary lookups, the woman explained that there were probably no stone/bronze Amida Buddahs that Bobbie could take home. But, you could get a small nice looking plastic shrine that would protect the Buddah statue inside (we are talking about something that is only about 6 inches tall). After thinking about it, we decided this was the best and most viable option. But it was still a question if they would even sell it us since the Japanese are very particular about their religious objects and it seemed sacrilegious to them to put it outside.
I explained to them as best I could that this was not for us, it was for Bobbie's “obaasan” (grandmother) for her grave. And it was as if I had said “open sesame.” The woman suddenly started nodding her head in understanding, writing down the price and then saying “but we will give you discount.” And it wasn't just some off the cuff way of making a sale, it was a connection. Quickly, her and another man who we think owned the store, packed the Buddah an the shrine with utmost care, including special wrapping for each item and wrapping the bag in plastic wrap because it was raining outside, then including specific bag holders that were more sturdy than the ones on the bag already. This wrapping process took about 15 minutes and when we finally gave them their money, the manager said, “special discount” and gave back all the coins we had also put down, basically knocking off another five bucks.
By this time Bobbie and I were unbelievably moved by what was happening. We bowed extra for our appreciation, and Bobbie hugged the lady who made the whole thing happen. I left the store with a renewed sense that Kyoto had been the correct city for us to choose to visit, as the heart of Japan was truly beating here.
Back in the hotel we sadly packed our things for the next day's trip. It would be a long stressful ride, as the typhoon heading into the country would shut down the trains and delay all flights the next day, though we didn't realize this until we left. Today we return to a country of English, but we both already miss the culture of convenience and efficiency, of service that goes the extra mile, of beer in the vending machines. And even though it wasn't exactly what I'd imagined it to be all these years, that was because I was thinking too small. There is so much more to this country than I realized, and there is more yet to be discovered. I shall return.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
A flurry of packing and apologies, we made our way to Nara. We had a friend we were going to meet there anyway, in addition to the sacred deer I wanted to experience. Within an hour we were in a hotel, one nice enough they can pay the roaches to stay out.
The best thing about the hotel is there is a TV. I don't really like a lot of Japanese television because it's mostly reality shows, but my favorite parts are actually the commercials.
It's amazing what commercials say about a people. They are designed to have a laser like focus on their target audience, so what you see is exactly what the Japanese are interested in. A good example is a commercial for candy. In America, a candy commercial would have 1) kids 2)be on during the day when kids are home and 3) be a cartoon or have some kind of furry mascot. The only thing the Japanese commercial for candy had in common was the furry mascot. Otherwise it was an adult woman (acting like a little girl) eating the candy and saying things like “sugoi!” (cool!). Also it was on during prime time. So what did I learn about the Japanese? They like candy, even grownups!
Anyway, it's just another way for me to observe these people in their natural state. I feel like I could watch Japanese commercials for a long time, and maybe learn a lot of the language from it. However, I would probably end up with affected speech like the Japanese brothers who learned how to speak english from Howard Cossell's racing announcements in Better Off Dead (if you haven't seen that movie, you need to see it.)
About the city. Nara is...different. The strange thing is I can't really put my finger on why. It's got the same cars and buildings. But the people seem more closed. In Kyoto, I felt like a gaijin, but that the people were okay with that and I never felt like I couldn't go somewhere because of it. In Nara, we were told that as foreigners we would not be welcome in some places. I figured this is always the case no matter what country you go to (or even within your own country sometimes) but I'd never had this actually spoken to me.
We started walking up the street from the hotel, and it was immediately obvious that it was a place for tourists. There were many shops and restaurants, all with similar stuff. There were no residential areas or side streets like Kyoto had.
An interesting part of this walk was the arcade we saw on the side of the street. Walking in, it seemed to be full of crane machine games, which I'm not very good at. At the back of the room was a forest of photo machines which we tried out for fun. Apparently you can customize the photos and add lots of decorations to each picture, but we were unable to read most of what we could do, ending up with some pretty boring pics of the two of use acting dumb.
As we left that area, we noticed an escalator up to a second floor. Cool! Up we go. At first it looks like standard arcade fare, with tokens and games, but it is soon revealed there are no prizes. Also, playing games with tokens just lets you win more tokens. What gives? Bobbie stays on this level to play a horse racing game while I explore more.
Turns out there are two more levels. Level three is pachinko machines, though they are not packed with people as I've seen them. The third level is fighting games only, which is boring to me so I went back downstairs pretty quick.
After playing a seizure inducing round of pachinko, I head back down to see how Bobbie is doing. She hasn't yet been able to get a seat at the racing game. In fact, most of the seats are packed and there are few games we can play. And we are the only foreigners on any of the floors. Suddenly I am very uncomfortable and insist that we leave. As we go, we see a man with a bucket of tokens dump them into some sort of machine that has a fingerprint reader attached to it and I start to understand what is going on. No prizes? Fingerprint readers? No foreigners at all? I smell illegal activity. And as exciting as it is to be seeing a side of Japan that is hidden from the tourists, I am not interested in stepping on anyones toes with my huge American feet.
The rest of the day was uneventful until we met up with a Japanese friend from UMASS who was great company and an informative guide. Heading home, the hotel was nice and it was cool to just hop into bed and not have to climb up some rickety ladder to sleep. But I missed Kyoto dearly, I missed the tiny houses built right up against each other, the secret alleys and paths that lead to god knows where. But most of all I missed the people. I missed waking up in the morning and watching the students walk to school. Strolling the roads at night to see old women sweeping up outside their doors. I missed the life. As silly as it sounds, I paid a thousand dollar plane ticket to watch a group of people go about their daily lives.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
The Tokugawa era of Japan is one of the better known ones. Tokugawa Ieyasu took over after the current daimyo Hideyoshi's death, decimating resistance from the other warlords and uniting the country under his rule. It was he who closed off Japan from the rest of the world for two and a half centuries, a fanatical xenophobe who's family forever changed the history of Japan.
The Nijo Castle was built in Kyoto after he became shogun in 1603. Though it has a moat and high walls, it was less a fortress and more a testament to Tokugawa's power and influence. Lavishly decorated and sprawling, each room has huge doors/murals of landscapes. Gold leaf is in a lot of it, and even the ceiling is carefully painted with flower designs, different ones for different rooms.
We had to take our shoes off before we could enter the castle, and it was nice to walk around in just our socks. As we went, the floors chirped pleasantly. The sound was nice, but it had a serious application. Intruders were a unwelcome possibility, and the nightingale floors were a kind of alarm system since you cannot walk on them and not make a squeaking noise.
Another interesting part of the palace was the guards doors. It was important that the shogun was guarded at all times, but keeping the guards hidden was useful for surprise attacks. Dotted around the rooms were doors with red tassels, and these were closets where the guards would sit keep on the lookout.
Unfortunately, I have very few pictures of the palace. They said it was because the flash photography would damage the decorations (the light would fade them) but I think it was so you would have to buy the pictures in the souvenir shop :P
For me, this palace was extremely exciting. I could just imagine servants and attendants rushing around, of the ladies and lords sitting in meeting or going about their business. This was a piece of the Japan I had come for. Unfortunately I was several centuries too late.
After that, we headed to Gion Corner where we knew geisha were. Geisha are half the reason I flew 22 hours to get here. Their grace and elegance is unsurpassed by years of training. But how to find them? You can see them on the street during certain times of the day, but many people wait for them also, and the whole thing feels vaguely like we are paparazzi. Other than that, all their festivals and public dances take place in August or May or January. And a private party with a geisha means spending upwards of 1000$ if not more, not to mention they won't take just anybody, least of all foreigners. You have to be rich and connected to see a geisha. Since I was neither, I called up Kyoto Tourist Information.
Me: “I would like to see some geisha, do you know where I can find some? I'm in Ponto-cho (a prefecture in Gion district where geisha often work).
Them: “Well...you can't just go into their houses or anything.”
Me: (awkward pause)...No, I mean, I would like to see them doing their traditional dance or instrument playing or something.
I wondered what the heck this person thought, that I would just wander into someone's house like an idiot. I guess the information must get a lot of stupid tourists?
Anyway, I was directed to a theatre in Gion and we found it without much work. A note about Gion; it is quite beautiful and worth seeing even if you aren't going to any shows. It's packed to the gills with little restaurants, most of them traditional. We found a couple holes in the walls while we were there and generally found the people to be tolerant and accepting of us, not to mention extremely pleasant.
The show was amazing. It's was basically a compilation of several forms of Japanese theatre and art. Within an hour, we saw Japanese tea ceremony, ikebana (traditional flower arrangement), koto playing, kabuki, comedy play, traditional dance, and bunraku (puppet theatre).
The traditional dance was performed by a maiko, or junior geisha. I'm no expert on traditional Japanese dance, but I thought it was beautiful. Every move was practised until it was second nature, controlled to the point of perfection, not a hair or fold was out of place. I know this was a performance that was mostly for foreigners, but it didn't matter. This was as close as I was every probably going to get and that was good enough for me.
Watching all the artistic performances together was an eye opening experience in that it showed me what I believe is the heart of Japanese culture. With every act, the performer was in complete control of what s/he was doing, even when it came to the comedy. There was a set number of steps to what they did, and while to an outsider this may seem “unoriginal” or “stiff” to me it showed what was important to them. Life is itself chaos, and you never know what is coming next, no matter how much you plan. Perhaps to them this was a way of dealing with that, by putting as much stability in their lives as possible. Look at their gardens, every stone and leaf in place. Look at their face, a mask of neutral expression. They control what they can because who knows what may happen tomorrow.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
I don't know if it's because I'm always excited or if the food here is just so different, but I have had little appetite and when I do eat, my stomach is always a little unhappy afterwards. I mostly get through this by immediately walking (because Kyoto is very much a walk-it city) to my next destination, which settles my stomach quickly. I am beginning to think that the food here is very rich because I need only consume a little of it to feel very full. It helps that I'm too frenzied or exhausted to eat most of the time, it's like I've turned off that part of my brain that wants food. Only until my stomach is growling loudly do I give in and get something to eat.
Afterwards was gift buying time, so I'm not going to say much about what we did, except that it was really fun finding everyone something they would like (or at least be entertained by)!
We ended up walking through a bunch of downtown Kyoto trying to find this soba place that Max said was really good. It turned out to be quite good (the soup part was practically pork gravy) and it was a really cute place with their advertisements for their one and only dish tiled across every wall, plus a commercial playing for the shop on a small tv nearby, constantly.
From there it was to the Heian Shrine for us. This is a shrine that was built in 1895 in honor the 1100 anniversary of Kyoto. It is a replica of the Imperial Palace (at one third size) of that era. On the way there we passed through a vegetarian festival (I know, this was confusing for me too, since most japanese are not vegetarian. Besides, PETA was there and that just made me mad). The best part of that was the praying mantis we found on the roof of one the the displays. He was swaying back and forth (“like he is drunk” Max said). I ended up picking him up and he scampered all over me. I wished I could have taken him home, he was the friendliest mantis, but I'm pretty sure customs would not allow it :P
Once we got to the shrine, I took a high resolution pic with my camcorder.
The shrine was beautiful, and I paid to get into the legendary gardens. Bobbie and Max stayed outside to sit and relax, and I found myself alone in the sprawling trails. The place was filled with wisteria, ponds (including catfish), and stone lanterns. Occasionally I would come upon some building or structure, usually a bridge or some stones that you had to cross to get to the other side. The gardens were meant as a place to relax and self reflect, and I fell into the process almost without realizing.
I realized I was becoming increasingly concerned about my complete lack of a connection to this country now that I was here. I still feel like I'm not actually “here” yet, that there is something crucial missing that if I find it I will click into the Japan I dreamed of for so long. It's kind of like when you go to get new glasses, and they try different magnifications. Right now everything is blurry, and I can almost see what I want, but I need to switch to a better lens. But how can I do that in a week? As a gaijin, I am completely cut off from these people, and it would take years for them to accept me into their world, if ever. And I have to wonder if the Japan I know even exists, or perhaps did (as I am fond of the older histories) and is now gone forever. I just don't know and the thought depresses me, but as the Japanese say I will try to “ganbatte ne!” or “try my best” to find what I'm looking for. It's too early to give up now.
At the end of our trip, we took the metro (subway) back. It's a very confusing system, and they seem to switch colors for tracks with wild abandon. We think we will be able to figure it out when we go to Nara tomorrow, but I miss Max. He had to leave to go back to school Sunday night and without him we feel rather lost and stupid. Neither of us have the energy to make a new friend so we will have to use our wits and charm to figure out what we want and how to get there. Speaking of getting there, my hands are permanently swollen from all the walking/salt. They practically breath salt here and we walk everywhere because the bus system can only get us to certain places. While I would love to spend an indefinite amount of time here, it will be nice to be home eventually. I miss my boyfriend and family and, you know, literacy.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Here's a video of us exiting the station. Look out anime characters!
We booked it to our hostel which was a cool part of the trip because we passed some very residential areas with that lived-in touch. Once situated at the hostel (with free wi-fi!), we met up with another guest, a Chinese guy named "Max" (his English name) who is in town for a couple days for school. Max has been a godsend with helping us get around and understand the area. He helped us find a restaurant to eat lunch at.
The restaurant was way cool (I don't even know the name though). It was traditional style, so we went in and they gave us a table that was a booth in a room all by itself. The waitress knelt before us when she took our order (I felt bad for her knees). The miso soup was so good and fresh, and the sashimi was delectable. I was really impressed by the quality and it wasn't even expensive.
We headed out to the Kiyomizu temple, but on our way there were geisha walking down the street! We were in a part of Gion so I wasn't surprised, but I thought I was going to hyperventalate with joy. Floating past us, they were gorgeous and sublime.
The temple itself was massive. There were tons of places to put prayers and charms. We bought a few and put them up, then prayed at the alter by throwing in coins and hitting the gong. We also washed our hands with the sacred water. Walking around, there were lots of places to buy fortuens and scrolls with Ametarasu. We picked up some omamori (good luck charm) for safe travel. Here are a bunch of vids of that part of the trip.
The highlight of the temple trip was the Tainai-meguri. None of us, even Max knew what we were getting into when we paid 100 yen to enter the basement of the temple. The monks took our money and our shoes and told us in broken english to "left hand hold." I thought they just wanted us to be careful on the stairs and hold the banister. Bobbie went down first, but stopped at the bottom. "Uhhh, Amanda?" She asked, staring into the pitch blackness beyond. The banister turned into oversized buddhist beads and suddenly they were the only thing tethering us to the world. Max grabbed the back of my shirt in a kind of panic and we shuffled forward awkwardly, calling to Bobbie who was ahead. After a minute, she stopped.
"Amanda, it's really close to me."
"Some....thing. In the middle of the room."
The "thing" was the womb of the temple, of the Bodhisattva Daizuigu Bosatsu. It was a stone mound with a sacred symbol on top. Supposedly we were meant to turn the stone and make a wish, but honestly the dark and strangeness of it all had us hurrying past as quickly as possible. We fled up the stairs. Our exit was probably supposed to represent birth, but for us it was escape. Maybe that's how all babies feel.
We also found a machine that makes noise when you put a can inside it! Vids to come
On our way back we bought a few things for the peeps back home. I'm looking forward to giving them all to you!
The most interesting thing is that I feel like it still hasn't sunk in that I'm in Japan. I think it's because this county has been such a fairytale dream for me for so long that it's difficult to wrap my head around the concept of actually being here. I do know that being in the minority is kinda weird, and when suddenly it's you who is the foreigner even weirder. I'm just glad I have several days to stay, otherwise I would convince myself I made it all up.
Tonight is dinner and pachinko. Apparently there is a parlor on every block just about. I'll keep you posted.
P.S. yes by now I've tried the japanese squat toilets. They're no big deal.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Bobbie, my travelling companion and compatriot, got a call from her mother while we were at Logan that her grandmother was having chest pains and was en route to the hospital. While she was not at peak health, she certainly didn't appear to be declining and so when we got to Minneapolis neither of us expected to hear that she had passed on shortly after that call.
On such an exciting and happy departure, it was surreal to suddenly know that a person you had seen two days prior was no longer among us. I queried with the airline what would happen if we had to suddenly cancel, and the replies were not good (basically, we would lose our tickets and reservations, no refunds). I discussed with Bobbie that the next course of action was completely up to her and I would stand behind whatever she wanted. Bobbie replied that Grammie would not want us to be wasteful and not to stop having a good time on her account. We decided that the best way to honor Grammie's memory would be to continue on, but now the focus of the trip has changed. Our journey here has become a pillgrimage and our itinerary will be including many more temples and shrines for us to give prayer and offerings to Grammie's spirit.
We ended up staying in a hotel in Osaka for the night, we were so exhausted. Here is a video of my room.
The other highlight of the hotel was the 24 hour convienience store inside the hotel where we picked up all manner of goodies. We finally passed out around 2 am.
My japanese immersion is progressing nicely and much faster than I thought it would. I'm learning.
More to come!
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
We are now on final approach for The Trip. Bags are packed, itinerary is checked, accommodations reserved. Just a couple things left to do before we get on that plane, and with less than 24 hours until we are in the sky it's really starting to sink in that I'm actually going. How many people get to fulfill a life dream at 26? Of course, I will return, probably many times, but this first step means that if I never get this opportunity again, I can at least say I was there, if just once.
My hope and aim is to update this blog every day, but I'm still very uncertain about the internet over there. I know the airports will have it, but other than that it's going to be touch and go. My ultimate wish is to upload videos each night so you can see what I did the previous day, but that can be time consuming and bandwidth intensive so if worst comes to worst, I will store the videos and backlog them into my respective posts as soon as I get back in the States.
If anyone is interested, I'll be staying here from Oct 2nd to the 8th.
I would like to thank everyone for their well wishes and good lucks. I'll be returning with lots of goodies and touristy junk for everyone. I'll also be coming back a different person than when I left. Let's just hope that I get on the plane that takes me back to reality/America :D
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
It was a bright day in early spring when this Asian strolled into our classroom. We were instructed to all sit down in a semicircle on the carpet in front of the blackboard, and to behave ourselves for our guest that day. This was a big deal because we usually had to sit at our desks on hard chairs that made my butt fall asleep, so it was a welcome change to sprawl out on the floor.
I don't remember a lot about Ms. Japan, except that she had black hair and exotic eyes. I remember she taught us the number system (itchy knees!), how to say "hello" (ko-nichi-wa), "goodbye" (say-o-nara), "please" (ku-da-sai), and thank you (do-mo ari-ga-to go-zai-maus). She wrote strange things on the board, symbols that were words in her country. Complex, flowery writing that flowed from the chalk, different, unrecognizable, mysterious.
Recalling these things is like reaching into a pool of muddy water for me. I can't see to the bottom, but sometimes I pull out a shiny rock or bauble. This day happened twenty years ago, and if my teachers and parents have anything to say about it, I wasn't a very focused kid.
Indeed, the most important aspect of that day is completely lost on me, but not, of course, my mother, the oral historian of our household. She got a phone call from my teacher at the end of the day. She was calling about my behavior with our Japanese ambassador.
"If Amanda would be as involved with this teacher as she is involved with me, she'd be the star of the class." Mrs. Zena said with a touch of annoyance (perhaps jealousy?).
I was by no means falling behind, but I was diagnosed with ADD a year later, and by fourth grade I needed glasses. School was tough but doable for me and I had a lot of difficulty listening and comprehending spoken instructions (my teachers learned quick that they needed to write down assignments on the board for me, or I would miss them). I knew it was important, but there was a lot of stuff in my brain (still is) that would rattle around, competing with classwork and lessons. I still lose my train of thought all the time, and often need to do something or write something down right away or I'll forget it forever, other thoughts intruding and overwriting my synapses. I'm pretty sure I've forgotten more than I'll ever know.
Yet I've never forgotten when this Japanese woman, who's name I can't even recall now, stepped into my life, however briefly, and changed my world.
After years of studying and schooling in the language and culture, I'll be going to Japan on October 1st. I think it will be a memorable experience.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Surrealy, I found myself driving myself and several friends back to our Alma Mater, UMASS Amherst. Yes, folks, it was here we wiled away our days at UMSFS and laughed mightily at our medical ethics professors (A common refrain from him: Eat your phone!). Arriving at just past 7 pm we parked our butts at the Hanger for some sumptuous chicken and relived a little of those carefree days, listening to grad students complain at the table next to us and snickering behind our hands with our 9 to 5 jobs.
After dinner, it was time to get to Northampton (or NoHo as the locals say) where the pub crawl would be taking place. We left the car at Modern Myths and took off toward the Toasted Owl to get our drink on and hobknob with the famous webcomic artists and writers.
We end up at Herrel's, but I'm too excited to eat any ice cream. We meet up with these guys from Chronillogical and strike up a facinating conversation about the time/space continuum and where the webcomic people might be. We all decide to head out to Haymarket.
At Haymarket, we are directed downstairs where FINALLY we discover the Webcomics Weekend people! They are very accomedating, and give us all stickers. While I'm thanking the sticker-man, I notice Spike sitting at the table nearby. Scott has to practically push me into the chair next to her. She is, of course, completely charming and unassuming and tolerates my fangirl questions with calm and wit.
Reluctantly decide after twenty minutes that I should probably try to find other webcomic people. Unfortunately, we end up back at the Toasted Owl but still can't find anyone else. Probably because I don't know what anyone looks like :P
Next day after horrible sleeping at Econolodge, book it down to the Eastworks at ten AM. End up at Spike's table first, and immediately slap down some cold cash for a signed and sketched Book 2 plus a picture!!
Move on to Scott Kurtz table where a huge line is forming. PVP is probably the most famous and oldest webcomics here. I get a sketch from Kurtz's bromactic interest, Kris Straub. Because I'm super nervous, I tell Scott Kurtz "Draw anything you like. Even a penis is okay." The thing is, I say this and Scott gives me a strange look. He repeats what I said to Kris, and then proceeds to draw an anatomically correct Scratch Fury. Bitchin.
Move upstairs to find Jeph Jaques (been looking for him since last night!). Find him in Topaco tshirt room and ask for sketch, repeating request made to Kurtz. He laughs, and gives me a sketch of Hannalore with a penis on her shirt and a speech bubble "I hate this shirt." Jeph relates to me that Hannalore is just a slight exaggeration of himself, which is impressive since Hannalore showers about fifty times a day.
Final highlight of the day was Scott and I got to see Randall Monroe, an "unofficial guest" and the creator of XKCD. Scott doesnt read a lot of comics, but he does read XKCD and meeting this guy was a real honor for him.
Finally, we decided it was time to leave, but not before we exchanged contact info with the Greg/John, Chronillogical creators, since we'd really hit it off with them and wanted to keep in touch.
All in all, it was a blast, and I absolutely, positively, can't wait for next year.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Me: Hi Dad! Can I talk to Mom?
Dad: Amanda, what do you know about this Storm card game?
Me: A card game? Like Magic: The Gathering?
Dad: Yeah, that's it!
Me: Where did you hear about Magic?
Dad: This kid at work was talking to me and he was explaining how he was building a deck.
Now, my Dad is from a generation where men made stuff using their hands, their own tools and it was practically a sin to pay a professional for anything. He's an electrical engineer who always believed he was also an electrician/plumber/exterminator. I remember a fun day when our kitchen floor flooded because he was trying to fix the dishwasher. Or that time he tried to de-freeze the roof with hot water from the faucet. But my Dad was always very good at math, and when it came to structures, he knew his shit. When I was but a babe, he built an extension onto the house that was our "family room." Later on, he built the sturdy decks onto the side of my parents' house and to this day we spend most of our warmer months hanging out on them.
So when this kid started talking about decks, my father thought he was in his element (pun intended).
Dad: I couldn't hear him so well because of the machines in the room. I asked him what kind of wood he was using and he yelled something about electric bolts...
At this point I am in tears. The perfect confusion of the event had me literally on the floor, my father on the other line huffing with annoyance at my screams of laughter. The thing that really got me was that two different conversations were taking place and for at least a few seconds, neither of them realized what the other was talking about.
These two men, two generations, tried and failed (hilariously) to communicate. It makes me wonder what will happen when I am an older person, still talking about blogs and twitters, while kids 20+ years younger snicker because I don't have my telepathic AOL implant. Will we still be able to talk or relate? Should we even bother? Of course we should. After all and sooner than I like to think, I'll be in the same boat as my parents are now. I like to use instances like this one to peer into my future once in a while, and I'm looking forward to my own geriatric faux pas.
I'll bet that kid got some solid advice about sanding and cement foundations, though.
Friday, March 6, 2009
Kate's work is one of the many things where I hit myself because I'm wondering why I didn't think of it. Imagine an illustrated Lord Byron, one of the greatest British poets of all time, daring people to find places he hasn't put his penis. This is witty and topical because if you know anything about historical British poets (my goodness, who doesn't), you would know that Lord Byron was a crazy playa who slept with just about everyone in England (and most of Italy and Greece). That guy's dick's been places that probably haven't been unearthed by mankind yet.
Kate has hit on a fantastic niche, where she basically takes the history major she's mastering in and uses the material from that to make the funny come out from all orifices like that Viking hat on SNL. She also has a cute side comic called "Younger Self" starring herself at her current age, and the 7ish year old self from when she was a kid. Usually these comics entail the younger self berating the older one for "being boring" and "liking dumb things" while the older one hesitantly reassures her she will one day stop being shaped like a potato. Ultimately, theirs is a relationship that everyone has with themselves, not love/hate but mostly love/annoyed with.
Her comic site isn't really finished now so it takes some digging to get to all the drawings. She has a nice store too.