Monday, December 5, 2011
Monday, November 28, 2011
I have 18 roommates
So I very recently moved into a new apartment, with lots of Japanese roommates. It's a "share house" which is basically a college dorm for big people. But I only moved in 1.5 days before I left Japan for the week I spent in the States, so I hadn't yet met most of the roomies very much.
But on the national holiday the day before Thanksgiving (no relation), many of the roomies decided to get bellig. So I got home from class, passed out by 5 pm due to mega jetlag, and woke up around 10 or 11 pm to find a party in my house. They shared the shochu (vodka, ish) and whiskey liberally, but basically everyone else had a fairly low alcohol tolerance so there were a lot of red faces.
Gaydar is culturally subjective. In the states, I have surprisingly good gaydar. If I can tell at all, I usually pick up on the 'mo vibe upon the first eye-contact when meeting someone new. This is not necessarily true in Japan, in large part because much of the hip/fashionable clothing for young men would be effeminate--dare I say fabulous--by our standards.
One of my housemates, Mochi, is cute as a button and flirtatious with anything that moves and basically a Japanese version of my college roommate Kelvin. I had been wondering about him, but as the drinks kept pouring themselves the following happened:
Mochi: I want to study English so I can meet a good guy. I just want Zak Efron to touch me. I'd say "No Zak, no!" but really I would want it.
Erriot: Oh, so you're gay.
Mochi: Who told Erriot I was gay?!
Lolwut. This was not the first loaded-with-gayness thing he said, but it was definitely the most unmistakable.
Added fun note, many of roommates go by vomit-inducingly cute nicknames. Like, Okazaki Hiroyuki goes by Okapi. His bestie Ogawa Chihiro goes by Ogachi. I swear that Okapi and Ogachi are different evolved stages of the same pokemon.
For Thanksgiving itself, it was my first time not with family. Bummer. But to deaden the pain by eating my feelings, I made an imitation of Sweet Potato Casserole to share with the roomies. Japan does not have sweet potatoes, but this did not stop me. I made do with Satsuma-imo, which are vaguely sweet-potato-ish. But purple on the outside and yellow on the inside.
Also, explaining "Casserole" to people not from a culture inundated with casserole is surprisingly hard. "Um... you can make it out of lots of things. It can be tuna or it can have pasta. But its a big thing you eat for dinner. And its not a dessert food unless is sweet potato casserole, when it is."
But on the national holiday the day before Thanksgiving (no relation), many of the roomies decided to get bellig. So I got home from class, passed out by 5 pm due to mega jetlag, and woke up around 10 or 11 pm to find a party in my house. They shared the shochu (vodka, ish) and whiskey liberally, but basically everyone else had a fairly low alcohol tolerance so there were a lot of red faces.
Gaydar is culturally subjective. In the states, I have surprisingly good gaydar. If I can tell at all, I usually pick up on the 'mo vibe upon the first eye-contact when meeting someone new. This is not necessarily true in Japan, in large part because much of the hip/fashionable clothing for young men would be effeminate--dare I say fabulous--by our standards.
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| Today's featured item of Japanese Goods with Questionably Translated Names: STRAIGHT TEA. They did not have any GAY TEA in stock. |
Mochi: I want to study English so I can meet a good guy. I just want Zak Efron to touch me. I'd say "No Zak, no!" but really I would want it.
Erriot: Oh, so you're gay.
Mochi: Who told Erriot I was gay?!
Lolwut. This was not the first loaded-with-gayness thing he said, but it was definitely the most unmistakable.
Added fun note, many of roommates go by vomit-inducingly cute nicknames. Like, Okazaki Hiroyuki goes by Okapi. His bestie Ogawa Chihiro goes by Ogachi. I swear that Okapi and Ogachi are different evolved stages of the same pokemon.
For Thanksgiving itself, it was my first time not with family. Bummer. But to deaden the pain by eating my feelings, I made an imitation of Sweet Potato Casserole to share with the roomies. Japan does not have sweet potatoes, but this did not stop me. I made do with Satsuma-imo, which are vaguely sweet-potato-ish. But purple on the outside and yellow on the inside.
Also, explaining "Casserole" to people not from a culture inundated with casserole is surprisingly hard. "Um... you can make it out of lots of things. It can be tuna or it can have pasta. But its a big thing you eat for dinner. And its not a dessert food unless is sweet potato casserole, when it is."
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Adventures in foreign medical systems
After a pretty full week, I had been looking forward to Saturday to catch up on work, sleep, and a party I had been assisting to coordinate in Tokyo. This didn't happen when I woke up with what felt like strep throat.
First couple hours of the day I contemplated dragging myself to the drugstore a few blocks away for what I knew worked pretty well on sore throats. I finally got the OTC stuff but it didn't seem to help as much as I had remembered, so I started looking up international clinics in the area, or places that at least would participate directly in the HTH insurance I'm receiving from Yale. (Students of IUC are supposed to enroll in the Japanese national health insurance, which would have made this a lot easier. But Yale pays extra for this service. I'll get reimbursed eventually, but there'll be more paperwork) But, all of these places were an hour + trip away, or closed on saturdays, so I was gonna call it quits.
It's hard enough when I'm healthy to call around in Japanese looking for a place, and then take the train and walk there and get lost for half an hour because the Japanese system of street addresses is useless and then navigate a bunch of unfamiliar bureaucratic procedures, so when I'm sick enough that getting out of bed is a challenge I wasn't really up to it. Armed with the knowledge of webmd.com, I knew strep will go away on its own, and the antiobiotics suppress contagiousness and generally not the actual symptoms, so I was content to wait in my bed until it went away.
But my symptoms were getting worse, so I finally pushed through to find a clinic. Interesting things different about the medical system here:
America's big on privacy and always has the waiting area cordoned off from the reception desk where patients discuss symptoms and payments with the nurse; that didn't seem to be a concern here. I'm used to filling out a complete medical questionnaire about anything that has ever happened to anyone in my family when I go to a new clinic for the first time, but the only survey I did was about the current condition.
I had heard that Japanese doctors tend to be brusque and efficient without much concern for bedside manner, and I guess that stereotype was confirmed but not necessarily in a bad way. He looked at my throat and nose and very quickly decided it was "風邪”, a cold, and subscribed me antibiotics. I asked if we should also do a strep test, since American doctors would usually do that as well, but he was confident that he'd prescribe the same things regardless of the test results and didn't feel the need. I felt lucky that my japanese level was advanced to know things like tonsillitis (扁桃炎、literally "flat peach inferno") because he didn't try to explain anything beyond that.
Although I wonder if the usage of kaze is wider in Japanese than it is in English, because I know most colds are actually viral and prescription antibiotics have no effect. And I definitely wouldn't call tonsils as large mine "the sniffles". But, the prescription drugs seem to be helping at least. Maybe the microorganisms responsible in Japan are more likely to be cold bacteria than cold viruses?
Afterwards, trekked into Tokyo for my appointment to sign the contract and pick up the key (yay!) for my new apartment. And then made it home through Tokyo rush hour commuter traffic, in the rain. I am just rocking out at the unreasonably hard being-an-adult challenges this week.
Now just five days until I return to the states for interviews at the Boston Career Forum, partying at the Sigma Chi 25th Reunion, and reminding hahvahd how many dead goats they suck at The Game!
First couple hours of the day I contemplated dragging myself to the drugstore a few blocks away for what I knew worked pretty well on sore throats. I finally got the OTC stuff but it didn't seem to help as much as I had remembered, so I started looking up international clinics in the area, or places that at least would participate directly in the HTH insurance I'm receiving from Yale. (Students of IUC are supposed to enroll in the Japanese national health insurance, which would have made this a lot easier. But Yale pays extra for this service. I'll get reimbursed eventually, but there'll be more paperwork) But, all of these places were an hour + trip away, or closed on saturdays, so I was gonna call it quits.
It's hard enough when I'm healthy to call around in Japanese looking for a place, and then take the train and walk there and get lost for half an hour because the Japanese system of street addresses is useless and then navigate a bunch of unfamiliar bureaucratic procedures, so when I'm sick enough that getting out of bed is a challenge I wasn't really up to it. Armed with the knowledge of webmd.com, I knew strep will go away on its own, and the antiobiotics suppress contagiousness and generally not the actual symptoms, so I was content to wait in my bed until it went away.
But my symptoms were getting worse, so I finally pushed through to find a clinic. Interesting things different about the medical system here:
America's big on privacy and always has the waiting area cordoned off from the reception desk where patients discuss symptoms and payments with the nurse; that didn't seem to be a concern here. I'm used to filling out a complete medical questionnaire about anything that has ever happened to anyone in my family when I go to a new clinic for the first time, but the only survey I did was about the current condition.
I had heard that Japanese doctors tend to be brusque and efficient without much concern for bedside manner, and I guess that stereotype was confirmed but not necessarily in a bad way. He looked at my throat and nose and very quickly decided it was "風邪”, a cold, and subscribed me antibiotics. I asked if we should also do a strep test, since American doctors would usually do that as well, but he was confident that he'd prescribe the same things regardless of the test results and didn't feel the need. I felt lucky that my japanese level was advanced to know things like tonsillitis (扁桃炎、literally "flat peach inferno") because he didn't try to explain anything beyond that.
Although I wonder if the usage of kaze is wider in Japanese than it is in English, because I know most colds are actually viral and prescription antibiotics have no effect. And I definitely wouldn't call tonsils as large mine "the sniffles". But, the prescription drugs seem to be helping at least. Maybe the microorganisms responsible in Japan are more likely to be cold bacteria than cold viruses?
Afterwards, trekked into Tokyo for my appointment to sign the contract and pick up the key (yay!) for my new apartment. And then made it home through Tokyo rush hour commuter traffic, in the rain. I am just rocking out at the unreasonably hard being-an-adult challenges this week.
Now just five days until I return to the states for interviews at the Boston Career Forum, partying at the Sigma Chi 25th Reunion, and reminding hahvahd how many dead goats they suck at The Game!
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| Unrelated: best unintentionally hilarious advertisement for a bar, TGIFridays. |
Also unrelated: terrifying but delightful commercial for Dole bananas.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Work and sweat
This week is a break between first and second semesters, but its yet to be that restful. Even when I thought I was done with all of it, I've had a surprising amount of resume/application/paperwork related stuff left over in preparation for next week's move. Also discovered I need to open a bank account tomorrow, which is great considering tomorrow is a national holiday ("Culture Day!") and thus banks are closed.
Tonight was my first full-on Japanese interview, conducted via skype. It was with Rakuten, one of the companies I would be more interested in and also felt I had a pretty decent chance at. Right before the interview I had a sudden crisis come up with the new apartment that finished only minutes before the interview, so I was maybe a little flustered to begin with. And then as soon as I turned on the skype video camera I realized I had forgotten to change into the dress shirt I had laid out and was instead still in my gym clothes.
Even after that I didn't feel it went that well, but I figure as much as anything I need experience in handling Japanese style interviews, so hopefully it will help me at later attempts. Although I'm bummed I might have missed my shot with Rakuten.
Had another interview with an American company scheduled for late tonight, (11 pm is about the only reasonable time that overlaps with their business hours) but as I was waiting for their representative to appear on skype I received an email saying "double-booked your interview lolwut sorry". Mrrrrrhhh.
More exciting stories: I had a conversation about dicks with the other guys in judo class. I was so happy when I realized the guy was asking me whether Americans shave their pubes. This is a cultural milestone in male bonding, and it means I have been accepted.
It did take me a while to realize that, though, as he was trying to phrase the question in very broken English, and from picking up "under" and "long" I assumed he was asking whether Americans wear longjohns, and I explained "they sometimes do when its really cold". This answer to the pubes question elicited unexpected laughter.
Also had another great conversation with Train Friend, who previously offered that if he met a girl who wanted to date me he would let me know. This time, as we transferred trains, I asked if he smelt something funny. He calmly explained "it is the smell of girls".
In others news of bridging cultural differences, please allow yourself to be enriched by the cultural goodness of Ayaman Japan performing Poi Poi.
Tonight was my first full-on Japanese interview, conducted via skype. It was with Rakuten, one of the companies I would be more interested in and also felt I had a pretty decent chance at. Right before the interview I had a sudden crisis come up with the new apartment that finished only minutes before the interview, so I was maybe a little flustered to begin with. And then as soon as I turned on the skype video camera I realized I had forgotten to change into the dress shirt I had laid out and was instead still in my gym clothes.
Even after that I didn't feel it went that well, but I figure as much as anything I need experience in handling Japanese style interviews, so hopefully it will help me at later attempts. Although I'm bummed I might have missed my shot with Rakuten.
Had another interview with an American company scheduled for late tonight, (11 pm is about the only reasonable time that overlaps with their business hours) but as I was waiting for their representative to appear on skype I received an email saying "double-booked your interview lolwut sorry". Mrrrrrhhh.
More exciting stories: I had a conversation about dicks with the other guys in judo class. I was so happy when I realized the guy was asking me whether Americans shave their pubes. This is a cultural milestone in male bonding, and it means I have been accepted.
It did take me a while to realize that, though, as he was trying to phrase the question in very broken English, and from picking up "under" and "long" I assumed he was asking whether Americans wear longjohns, and I explained "they sometimes do when its really cold". This answer to the pubes question elicited unexpected laughter.
Also had another great conversation with Train Friend, who previously offered that if he met a girl who wanted to date me he would let me know. This time, as we transferred trains, I asked if he smelt something funny. He calmly explained "it is the smell of girls".
In others news of bridging cultural differences, please allow yourself to be enriched by the cultural goodness of Ayaman Japan performing Poi Poi.
Friday, October 21, 2011
Moving Apartments
This last week was outrageously busy as I tried to juggle classwork with prepping my resume/applications for the Boston Career Forum (flying back to the states for a week in November) AND simultaneously setting the gears in motion to move apartments.
Moving apartments... being an adult is hard. But I think I got it right this time.
I never really bothered to share photos or descriptions of the current place because its not much to share. From my 8th view window, I can see... car parts factories. At night, the sounds of motorcycle gangs on the adjacent highway serenades me to sleep. On my route to school, I have a lovely tour of used car dealers, and car part stores, and car repair shops. It's a private, functional space, but that's about it. I selected it without understanding much of the area, or even what I was looking for, only that it balanced far enough away from school to be cheap but still close enough to commute by bike.
I also hardly ever encountered the neighbors. It's a monthly apartment, pre-furnished and with an easily adjustable contract, so it caters to working adults whose companies transfer them to work in Tokyo for a few months. Most neighborhoods are meticulously guarded by the local neighborhood watch organization--most of my friends have been scolded by the vigilant grannies for taking out their trash too early. This might be obnoxious, but the presence of trash-guard-grannies evidences the strong bonds of community, which is something my neighborhood/apartment just doesn't have.
I have a weird guilty complex about hanging out with foreigners outside of class and speaking English. But my current situation allowed me hardly any opportunity to meet Japanese people my age. So then I would retreat to my apartment and be bored, and feel guilty that I wasn't better utilizing my time.
But, with the magical powers of the internet, I found a company "Social Apartment" that's basically college dorms but for big people. I'm moving to Shinkawasaki, which is still only a 12 minute train ride (1 transfer) to my school in Minatomirai. Individual bedrooms, but actually really nice shared facilities. There's a lounge with a PS3 and Wii, nearly the largest kitchen I've ever seen in a Japanese house, outdoor wood deck, and a rooftop deck with a pretty view looking towards Tokyo and Shinjuku.
The bedroom is small, but the difference in rent and all means I'll be saving close to $300 a month. And honestly I think the lifestyle change of having Japanese friends to hang out with at night will be a major change in my happiness, in addition to being an invaluable language/cultural learning tool.
I was kinda anxious about the possibility of moving in with creepers / otherwise unpleasant roommates, but having met the landlord I feel way better now. I had been exchanging emails with the landlord for a couple days (incredibly relevant timing because we're working on formal correspondence in class, particularly emails chock full of keigo) before I came to visit and from the business-like tone of the emails I assumed he would be 50 or so. Turns out he's actually my age, and a super-chill bro, and we're gonna play soccer tomorrow. Nevermind that I don't like soccer very much and will probably embarrass myself because I haven't actually played since I was 6.
He vouched very strongly for the other residents being interesting people (I think there will be a total of 18 once I move in, 3 foreigners and otherwise mainly Japanese) and swore by the warm and welcoming environment of the apartment set-up. He insists that partly because it's a more narrow space, everyone gets more cuddly. I like cuddly. :p
Moving apartments... being an adult is hard. But I think I got it right this time.
I never really bothered to share photos or descriptions of the current place because its not much to share. From my 8th view window, I can see... car parts factories. At night, the sounds of motorcycle gangs on the adjacent highway serenades me to sleep. On my route to school, I have a lovely tour of used car dealers, and car part stores, and car repair shops. It's a private, functional space, but that's about it. I selected it without understanding much of the area, or even what I was looking for, only that it balanced far enough away from school to be cheap but still close enough to commute by bike.
I also hardly ever encountered the neighbors. It's a monthly apartment, pre-furnished and with an easily adjustable contract, so it caters to working adults whose companies transfer them to work in Tokyo for a few months. Most neighborhoods are meticulously guarded by the local neighborhood watch organization--most of my friends have been scolded by the vigilant grannies for taking out their trash too early. This might be obnoxious, but the presence of trash-guard-grannies evidences the strong bonds of community, which is something my neighborhood/apartment just doesn't have.
I have a weird guilty complex about hanging out with foreigners outside of class and speaking English. But my current situation allowed me hardly any opportunity to meet Japanese people my age. So then I would retreat to my apartment and be bored, and feel guilty that I wasn't better utilizing my time.
But, with the magical powers of the internet, I found a company "Social Apartment" that's basically college dorms but for big people. I'm moving to Shinkawasaki, which is still only a 12 minute train ride (1 transfer) to my school in Minatomirai. Individual bedrooms, but actually really nice shared facilities. There's a lounge with a PS3 and Wii, nearly the largest kitchen I've ever seen in a Japanese house, outdoor wood deck, and a rooftop deck with a pretty view looking towards Tokyo and Shinjuku.
The bedroom is small, but the difference in rent and all means I'll be saving close to $300 a month. And honestly I think the lifestyle change of having Japanese friends to hang out with at night will be a major change in my happiness, in addition to being an invaluable language/cultural learning tool.
I was kinda anxious about the possibility of moving in with creepers / otherwise unpleasant roommates, but having met the landlord I feel way better now. I had been exchanging emails with the landlord for a couple days (incredibly relevant timing because we're working on formal correspondence in class, particularly emails chock full of keigo) before I came to visit and from the business-like tone of the emails I assumed he would be 50 or so. Turns out he's actually my age, and a super-chill bro, and we're gonna play soccer tomorrow. Nevermind that I don't like soccer very much and will probably embarrass myself because I haven't actually played since I was 6.
He vouched very strongly for the other residents being interesting people (I think there will be a total of 18 once I move in, 3 foreigners and otherwise mainly Japanese) and swore by the warm and welcoming environment of the apartment set-up. He insists that partly because it's a more narrow space, everyone gets more cuddly. I like cuddly. :p
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| Unrelated: went to a Japanese baseball game last week, sitting on the side of the diehard Hanshin Tigers fans. American fans are downright pathetic when compared to the vigor that Japanese fans pour into their constant organized cheering. I was also creepin' hardcore on the trumpeters. |
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| Also unrelated: met some girls from Meiji Gakuin College last week on an event to tour some temples of Kamakura. |
Friday, October 7, 2011
Overdue Updates
I have been super delinquent on the blog, partially because I'm constantly pretty busy with the workload and all, and partly because the first month wasn't quite as "action-packed" as my previous experiences in Japan. Whereas summer programs for undergrads hold your hand as they inundate you with cultural activities, IUC is much more hands off. Its class, and a lot of it, and then students are otherwise on their own for the remaining 10% of daylight hours.
I've been here now just about 5 weeks, and the concept of "I live in Japan" is starting to sink in. A little.
I spend a lot of time thinking about / finding / preparing / cleaning food. My fridge is less of a "living fridge" and more of a "beer fridge", so the size of it (plus the size of the kitchen) makes it hard to prepare and store food in bulk. But I make a lot of tofu dishes, and for the first time in my life I'm cooking fish by myself. Breakfast is usually a rice bowl with kimchi, natto, fried eggs, and wasabi furikake, plus a banana. Lunch is whatever I can buy for cheap at a cafeteria or conbini near school, and dinner is whatever recipe I look up, which is often based around what weird stuff is on sale at the supermarket.
My food budget on the scholarship would be around $20 / day, but with the current exchange rates thats more like ¥1600. Actual parity means it feels like $16 (if we establish the amount of noms I get on a US $1 menu as equivalent to a ¥105 rice ball). I eat a lot in general, but on judo days I'm guessing I take in anywhere from 3000-4000 calories, so I have the mental rule that I'm only allowed to buy things that have a 2 Kcal : ¥1 value. Cost of living around Yokohama/Tokyo is very very high. If I have time to cook properly, that's fine, but busy days are a lot harder. Even a cheap restaurant uses a majority of my daily food budget, and a round trip to Tokyo often ends up around $12 in transportation.
Speaking of Judo, I did join a new dojo last week, although not the Kodokan. This one is also pretty far, but there's a lot of adults (including a couple very prestigious ones... the head instructor is a 7th dan blackbelt, and another one won the National Championships of the Police Judo League). In randori I'm finally to the point where I've been able to get in a few throws on the blackbelts, although the net total of throws is still very much me being thrown. But apparently 小内刈 (ko-uchi-gari) is my best move now, which is surprising because it seemed like one of my worst before.
Adventures:
We had a day off from class to go on field trips sponsored by the center: I went to the Cup Noodle Museum (where I had noodles) and Kirin Beer Factory (where I had beer).
I've been here now just about 5 weeks, and the concept of "I live in Japan" is starting to sink in. A little.
I spend a lot of time thinking about / finding / preparing / cleaning food. My fridge is less of a "living fridge" and more of a "beer fridge", so the size of it (plus the size of the kitchen) makes it hard to prepare and store food in bulk. But I make a lot of tofu dishes, and for the first time in my life I'm cooking fish by myself. Breakfast is usually a rice bowl with kimchi, natto, fried eggs, and wasabi furikake, plus a banana. Lunch is whatever I can buy for cheap at a cafeteria or conbini near school, and dinner is whatever recipe I look up, which is often based around what weird stuff is on sale at the supermarket.
My food budget on the scholarship would be around $20 / day, but with the current exchange rates thats more like ¥1600. Actual parity means it feels like $16 (if we establish the amount of noms I get on a US $1 menu as equivalent to a ¥105 rice ball). I eat a lot in general, but on judo days I'm guessing I take in anywhere from 3000-4000 calories, so I have the mental rule that I'm only allowed to buy things that have a 2 Kcal : ¥1 value. Cost of living around Yokohama/Tokyo is very very high. If I have time to cook properly, that's fine, but busy days are a lot harder. Even a cheap restaurant uses a majority of my daily food budget, and a round trip to Tokyo often ends up around $12 in transportation.
Speaking of Judo, I did join a new dojo last week, although not the Kodokan. This one is also pretty far, but there's a lot of adults (including a couple very prestigious ones... the head instructor is a 7th dan blackbelt, and another one won the National Championships of the Police Judo League). In randori I'm finally to the point where I've been able to get in a few throws on the blackbelts, although the net total of throws is still very much me being thrown. But apparently 小内刈 (ko-uchi-gari) is my best move now, which is surprising because it seemed like one of my worst before.
Adventures:
We had a day off from class to go on field trips sponsored by the center: I went to the Cup Noodle Museum (where I had noodles) and Kirin Beer Factory (where I had beer).
The "My Cup Noodle" attraction: I drew Nyan Cat and Noodle Cat
A visual timeline of all cup noodle products and labels
Magical art noodles flying through the air
Met up with Elizabeth (Carbone) Igarishi two weekends ago, and we went out to the beach at Kamakura and the Daibutsu statue.
Went on a single day retreat to a Buddhist Temple, also near Kamakura. Turns out I'm really bad at meditating.
More to come later. I'll be less bad at updating.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
講道館柔道 （Karate Kid）
So I'm looking at the website for the Kodokan, the dojo that founded Judo. Apparently its the only thing in the world I want.
My attempts to find a dojo in Yokohama have been frustrating. The classes sponsored by most dojos around here are meant for little kids (equal parts daycare as judo class), and then the open sparring time is targeted towards adult black belts. Most young men make the transition from white belt to black belt through judo clubs at their schools, meaning those training options are off limits to me
The Kodokan in Tokyo, aside from being renowned for having the highest level of instruction anywhere in the world, sponsors intensive courses with classes meeting every day. (Most I've done was twice a week, and even that was pretty intense.) They even have a hostel for those enrolled in their programs to stay at. The level is such that after a year of training, I could take a black belt.
Its a full hour of travel to get there, so I doubt with my current class schedule I could enter any class, but I'm toying with the idea of taking the month long winter break as a kind of judo pilgrimage, living at the Kodokan and doing all judo all day erryday.
The idea of that is especially appealing in the sense of a spiritual retreat. When I rowed crew, spring training had two-a-day practices everyday. So I would wake up, row, nap, eat, row, eat, and sleep. That would be my entire day. No planning ahead for deadlines or doing homework or anything. And it was beautifully zenlike. It was only a week, but it felt so profound.
When I was writing my senior essay on samurai, something triggered that memory, and connected it to a samurai's training. And I wanted to be a samurai so much, rather than holed up in the library. The following notes scribbled on the margins of a draft (induced by bibliography madness) convey what I went through over the course of one day.
I wish I were a samurai. I'd be great at the warrior's life of virtue and perfection through physical training. I want to do two-a-days all day, every day. Klingons are like samurai except blacker. Pokemon is racist, because Black and White are separate but equal. Jersey shore is the most amazing thing ever. I really want to get a spray tan. WHAT AM I DOING TOMORROW, do I have time for a spray tan before hockey? New haven Tanning. Angry birds is much more fun with sound effects, apparently. Beer is the salvation of all bibliographies.
So now I'm mesmerized by this idea of living and training at the Kodokan. If I could throw out all this anxiety I have about not being satisfied with my Japanese ability, and the unease I have about being alone in a foreign country, and all those little things that are wearing me down everyday... I don't know. I can't stop thinking about it.
And also a spray tan would be neat.
My attempts to find a dojo in Yokohama have been frustrating. The classes sponsored by most dojos around here are meant for little kids (equal parts daycare as judo class), and then the open sparring time is targeted towards adult black belts. Most young men make the transition from white belt to black belt through judo clubs at their schools, meaning those training options are off limits to me
The Kodokan in Tokyo, aside from being renowned for having the highest level of instruction anywhere in the world, sponsors intensive courses with classes meeting every day. (Most I've done was twice a week, and even that was pretty intense.) They even have a hostel for those enrolled in their programs to stay at. The level is such that after a year of training, I could take a black belt.
Its a full hour of travel to get there, so I doubt with my current class schedule I could enter any class, but I'm toying with the idea of taking the month long winter break as a kind of judo pilgrimage, living at the Kodokan and doing all judo all day erryday.
The idea of that is especially appealing in the sense of a spiritual retreat. When I rowed crew, spring training had two-a-day practices everyday. So I would wake up, row, nap, eat, row, eat, and sleep. That would be my entire day. No planning ahead for deadlines or doing homework or anything. And it was beautifully zenlike. It was only a week, but it felt so profound.
When I was writing my senior essay on samurai, something triggered that memory, and connected it to a samurai's training. And I wanted to be a samurai so much, rather than holed up in the library. The following notes scribbled on the margins of a draft (induced by bibliography madness) convey what I went through over the course of one day.
I wish I were a samurai. I'd be great at the warrior's life of virtue and perfection through physical training. I want to do two-a-days all day, every day. Klingons are like samurai except blacker. Pokemon is racist, because Black and White are separate but equal. Jersey shore is the most amazing thing ever. I really want to get a spray tan. WHAT AM I DOING TOMORROW, do I have time for a spray tan before hockey? New haven Tanning. Angry birds is much more fun with sound effects, apparently. Beer is the salvation of all bibliographies.
So now I'm mesmerized by this idea of living and training at the Kodokan. If I could throw out all this anxiety I have about not being satisfied with my Japanese ability, and the unease I have about being alone in a foreign country, and all those little things that are wearing me down everyday... I don't know. I can't stop thinking about it.
And also a spray tan would be neat.
Friday, September 9, 2011
Yes Man
Sometimes I don't fully understand what's going on but kind of agree with everything to be amicable. Maybe that's how I got a ticket to The 31st Imperial Highness Prince Mikasa Cup, All Japan DanceSport Championships?
The community center where I'm taking judo has a variety of events going on, so when I saw a sign saying "Ballroom Dance, participate freely" I decided to come back the next day. I made the awkward introductions, but discovered it was a club much more oriented to the elderly, and it assumed that everyone brought their partners with them.
But, as I am a novelty, a couple of the geriatric dancers got to talking with me, and we talked about dance shoes, and before I knew exactly what was happening one Sato-San was inviting me back to his house to give me shoes. He apparently runs a dance studio, and sells shoes, and localizes foreign-made instructional DVDs.
Somehow this also turned into introducing me to Momoko, a dancer much closer to my age, who is taking me to a different Ballroom club today more oriented towards 20-somethings. And also he has access to free tickets for the DanceSport Championships, so is driving me to Tokyo to spend the day watching ballroom competitions.
I'm a little confused about my friendship with Sato-san (in one conversation, we rapidly covered WWII, exchange rates, electrical differences between Kansai and Tohoku regions of Japan, the Korean war, and Celine Dion... I could not for the life of me figure out what the connections were, or were the conversation was going) but at least its a good first step towards getting to know people around here.
The community center where I'm taking judo has a variety of events going on, so when I saw a sign saying "Ballroom Dance, participate freely" I decided to come back the next day. I made the awkward introductions, but discovered it was a club much more oriented to the elderly, and it assumed that everyone brought their partners with them.
But, as I am a novelty, a couple of the geriatric dancers got to talking with me, and we talked about dance shoes, and before I knew exactly what was happening one Sato-San was inviting me back to his house to give me shoes. He apparently runs a dance studio, and sells shoes, and localizes foreign-made instructional DVDs.
Somehow this also turned into introducing me to Momoko, a dancer much closer to my age, who is taking me to a different Ballroom club today more oriented towards 20-somethings. And also he has access to free tickets for the DanceSport Championships, so is driving me to Tokyo to spend the day watching ballroom competitions.
I'm a little confused about my friendship with Sato-san (in one conversation, we rapidly covered WWII, exchange rates, electrical differences between Kansai and Tohoku regions of Japan, the Korean war, and Celine Dion... I could not for the life of me figure out what the connections were, or were the conversation was going) but at least its a good first step towards getting to know people around here.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
やっと、携帯！(or, how I got over being a whiny emo kid)
My first week or so wasn't too much fun, but things are turning around.
A big part of that is that I finally got my frickin' cell phone to work. And the stupid solution, is that I just went to a different branch of the same store. They accepted my forms and it was the easiest thing in the world. Apparently another student got over the same paperwork issue by visiting the same store later the same day, when somebody else was on duty. The Japanese government has strict regulations on foreigners obtaining cell phones "so as to prevent crime", but the phone companies don't actually know what the regulations are, only that they're strict. And everyone knows that crime cannot be committed over pay phones.
It's a new contract, so my number and email are different now.
Phone number: (international code 011-81) 080-3009-3261
Email: eeaton@softbank.ne.jp. I receive email freely as texts, so send me stuff!
Class is finally picking up, having finished the orientations and placement tests. Tomorrow we meet our teachers to which we've been assigned. We also started the Kanji intensive program, a series of studying software and quizzes designed for us to master all 2,136 jōyō kanji by the end of the year. I burned through the first 30 (of 143) tests pretty quickly, although they're brutal about the smallest details of proper penmanship, which will be tough on me. It will be a much slower pace from here.
Also finally starting to meet the other students, and we have planned an "AKB48 Appreciation Hour" for the weekend, aka get drunk and sing karaoke. (If you haven't heard of AKB48, they're like any other poppy girl band... except there's 48 of them)
Other developments, I've been to judo class twice so far at dojo nearby my apartment. Its a tough balance, because the ones who come for the lessons are all little kids (maybe 12 years old, tops... I felt like a jerk when I was paired to wrestle one of the bigger ones) and then a lot of adult black-belts who come for the free sparring. I fit neither of these groups very well.
Am continuing my quest for a bar to claim as my own... found a cheap one, but it had just a distantly polite treatment from the bartender. Y'know, the part where they re-explain in badly broken English--"theesu... doriink menyu"--after I have already demonstrated I understand that in Japanese. This bar is not the one.
A big part of that is that I finally got my frickin' cell phone to work. And the stupid solution, is that I just went to a different branch of the same store. They accepted my forms and it was the easiest thing in the world. Apparently another student got over the same paperwork issue by visiting the same store later the same day, when somebody else was on duty. The Japanese government has strict regulations on foreigners obtaining cell phones "so as to prevent crime", but the phone companies don't actually know what the regulations are, only that they're strict. And everyone knows that crime cannot be committed over pay phones.
It's a new contract, so my number and email are different now.
Phone number: (international code 011-81) 080-3009-3261
Email: eeaton@softbank.ne.jp. I receive email freely as texts, so send me stuff!
Class is finally picking up, having finished the orientations and placement tests. Tomorrow we meet our teachers to which we've been assigned. We also started the Kanji intensive program, a series of studying software and quizzes designed for us to master all 2,136 jōyō kanji by the end of the year. I burned through the first 30 (of 143) tests pretty quickly, although they're brutal about the smallest details of proper penmanship, which will be tough on me. It will be a much slower pace from here.
Also finally starting to meet the other students, and we have planned an "AKB48 Appreciation Hour" for the weekend, aka get drunk and sing karaoke. (If you haven't heard of AKB48, they're like any other poppy girl band... except there's 48 of them)
Other developments, I've been to judo class twice so far at dojo nearby my apartment. Its a tough balance, because the ones who come for the lessons are all little kids (maybe 12 years old, tops... I felt like a jerk when I was paired to wrestle one of the bigger ones) and then a lot of adult black-belts who come for the free sparring. I fit neither of these groups very well.
Am continuing my quest for a bar to claim as my own... found a cheap one, but it had just a distantly polite treatment from the bartender. Y'know, the part where they re-explain in badly broken English--"theesu... doriink menyu"--after I have already demonstrated I understand that in Japanese. This bar is not the one.
Obligatory lolsy Engrish photo of the day: In my search for a decent bar, was attracted to this shining "Cow-Cow" sign from afar. Turns out its a pun on the Japanese word "to buy" (kau) and is a car dealer. I was disappointed.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
方向音痴 (or, how most of my days have been spent wandering the street)
I'm approaching the week mark since arriving in Japan, and this experience has differently been different. The bubbly new excitement of a foreign country has worn off, so its a lot of daily routine so far, just removed from other people.
Really a majority of my human interaction since getting here has been economic transactions and asking directions. I'm real good at asking directions, but even better at getting lost.
My grumbley list:
PHONE! I have a phone on a prepaid plan I purchased last year. It should have been easy to buy another prepaid card to re-up the service. But since I hadn't done so in a year, the contract expired. I need an alien registration card (外国人登録証明書） to start a new contract, but the card will take an additional 2 weeks of processing before I can use it. So I spent the afternoon going back to the municipal ward to get a document certifying the card would come through (登録原票記載事項証明書、a document specifically intended for signing phone contracts while waiting for the actual card). The phone company again refused me. I've already paid for the phone and the service, they just won't let me use it. Grrrr.
I also grumble that the document names in question are as long and unwieldy as they are, which makes it really obnoxious to talk about them all the time.
School is so far... orientation meetings and placement tests. I was ready to dive in, but there's not yet much to dive into. Thursday, I actually don't have any class at all. Considering my problem right now is about not feeling engaged, this is a bummer.
We've had two days of tests and things, but the distance of our housing and even the setup of the IUC Center itself doesn't do much to facilitate social interactions.
I have a hip injury which I was addressing with physical therapy over the summer... it seems it has come back.
I have a bike intended for riders "150 centimeters and up". Within the price range I could afford, this was the largest bike I could find. But there is indeed a limit to the "and up" part of "150 cm and up", because 187 cm Elliot does not fit very well. I think this might be further aggravating my hip.
I live nowhere near any other students.
On day three I became sick of white rice. This does not bode well for the rest of the year.
Really a majority of my human interaction since getting here has been economic transactions and asking directions. I'm real good at asking directions, but even better at getting lost.
My grumbley list:
PHONE! I have a phone on a prepaid plan I purchased last year. It should have been easy to buy another prepaid card to re-up the service. But since I hadn't done so in a year, the contract expired. I need an alien registration card (外国人登録証明書） to start a new contract, but the card will take an additional 2 weeks of processing before I can use it. So I spent the afternoon going back to the municipal ward to get a document certifying the card would come through (登録原票記載事項証明書、a document specifically intended for signing phone contracts while waiting for the actual card). The phone company again refused me. I've already paid for the phone and the service, they just won't let me use it. Grrrr.
I also grumble that the document names in question are as long and unwieldy as they are, which makes it really obnoxious to talk about them all the time.
School is so far... orientation meetings and placement tests. I was ready to dive in, but there's not yet much to dive into. Thursday, I actually don't have any class at all. Considering my problem right now is about not feeling engaged, this is a bummer.
We've had two days of tests and things, but the distance of our housing and even the setup of the IUC Center itself doesn't do much to facilitate social interactions.
But hey look we have a class photo!
I have a hip injury which I was addressing with physical therapy over the summer... it seems it has come back.
I have a bike intended for riders "150 centimeters and up". Within the price range I could afford, this was the largest bike I could find. But there is indeed a limit to the "and up" part of "150 cm and up", because 187 cm Elliot does not fit very well. I think this might be further aggravating my hip.
I live nowhere near any other students.
On day three I became sick of white rice. This does not bode well for the rest of the year.
Small consolation to a frustrating couple of days: these donuts are adorable.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
横浜に到着 (or, so I guess I live in Japan now)
[[This post is the start of my year enrolled at the Inter-University Center for Japanese Language Studies while living in Yokohama, Japan. Earlier posts are from earlier experiences at CET Osaka in Summer 2010 and at the Hokkaido International Foundation in Summer 2009.]]
I spent the entire transcontinental flight in fear of the sticky note discretely placed by one of the stewards one my set, designating it for some unknown purpose. Was I singled out as a security threat? Did they have an issue with my visa? I saw a few other seats labeled in the same way, but couldn't find a pattern of racial profiling. They had also labeled the empty seat next to mine, (I assumed) to prevent me from escaping. I vacillated: would it be best to hide the sticky note, or would that increase the consequences? I had a lot of time to think about this, trying not to let my paranoia get away from me.
Turns out my anxiety was for nothing, as a steward removed all the sticky notes right before the final descent. Have no idea why they were there at all.
Getting to my apartment was the next step. I rode the Keisei Skyliner from Narita Airport to the Nippori station in Tokyo, and one transfer onto the Keihin-Tohoku line got me all the way to my neighborhood of Yokohama, Shinkoyasu. Finding the place in the dark was tricky (Japanese addresses are useless to begin with, not helped by the fact that few places show their own address) but recognizing the adjacent landmark--a McDonald's, the golden arches brimming with hope--helped me out.
Most importantly, the apartment is called the Shinkoyasu Flat. But because its written in Japanese, it comes out phonetically as the Shinkoyasu Frat. I'm kind of the frattiest person I know.
The place is small, but so far cozy. In very technical measurements, the dimensions of my main room are 1.3 Elliots deep and 2. 5 Elliots wide, and the entrance hallway (which doubles as the kitchen and has the bathroom on the side) is about .5 x 3 Elliots. Its all decently pre-furnished, so that at least saves me a lot of extra errands.
The suddenly extreme and unwelcome presence of humidity reminds me why Spokane is so great.
I've had reassuringly familiar cultural encounters, like the following exchange at a nearby convenience store when I tried to buy shumai dumplings.
Worker: Would you like chopsticks?
Elliot: Yes please.
Worker: Not a fork? Really chopsticks?
Two major snags so far:
~My cellphone contract expired, since its been over a year since I used it. I expected it would be a pretty simple affair to update the prepaid account with money to get service back, but apparently I need to enter a new contract (probably means I won't keep the same number), and that requires me to have my alien registration card, which I won't actually possess for 2-3 weeks, because of the joys of bureaucracy
~I have a daily withdrawal limit on my ATM card which is less than my monthly rent. I planned on paying the rent yesterday, but realize now I need to withdraw over several days to get enough for the rent and the deposit. I called the customer service number on the back of the card to see if I could raise the limit, and they advised me to call the customer service number on the back of the card. Thanks, Bank of America.
I succumb to jet lag. After doing various errands, I came home for a nap at 3 pm, and woke up at 1 am. FAIL. Now I will try sleeping again.
I spent the entire transcontinental flight in fear of the sticky note discretely placed by one of the stewards one my set, designating it for some unknown purpose. Was I singled out as a security threat? Did they have an issue with my visa? I saw a few other seats labeled in the same way, but couldn't find a pattern of racial profiling. They had also labeled the empty seat next to mine, (I assumed) to prevent me from escaping. I vacillated: would it be best to hide the sticky note, or would that increase the consequences? I had a lot of time to think about this, trying not to let my paranoia get away from me.
Turns out my anxiety was for nothing, as a steward removed all the sticky notes right before the final descent. Have no idea why they were there at all.
Getting to my apartment was the next step. I rode the Keisei Skyliner from Narita Airport to the Nippori station in Tokyo, and one transfer onto the Keihin-Tohoku line got me all the way to my neighborhood of Yokohama, Shinkoyasu. Finding the place in the dark was tricky (Japanese addresses are useless to begin with, not helped by the fact that few places show their own address) but recognizing the adjacent landmark--a McDonald's, the golden arches brimming with hope--helped me out.
Most importantly, the apartment is called the Shinkoyasu Flat. But because its written in Japanese, it comes out phonetically as the Shinkoyasu Frat. I'm kind of the frattiest person I know.
The place is small, but so far cozy. In very technical measurements, the dimensions of my main room are 1.3 Elliots deep and 2. 5 Elliots wide, and the entrance hallway (which doubles as the kitchen and has the bathroom on the side) is about .5 x 3 Elliots. Its all decently pre-furnished, so that at least saves me a lot of extra errands.
The suddenly extreme and unwelcome presence of humidity reminds me why Spokane is so great.
I've had reassuringly familiar cultural encounters, like the following exchange at a nearby convenience store when I tried to buy shumai dumplings.
Worker: Would you like chopsticks?
Elliot: Yes please.
Worker: Not a fork? Really chopsticks?
Two major snags so far:
~My cellphone contract expired, since its been over a year since I used it. I expected it would be a pretty simple affair to update the prepaid account with money to get service back, but apparently I need to enter a new contract (probably means I won't keep the same number), and that requires me to have my alien registration card, which I won't actually possess for 2-3 weeks, because of the joys of bureaucracy
~I have a daily withdrawal limit on my ATM card which is less than my monthly rent. I planned on paying the rent yesterday, but realize now I need to withdraw over several days to get enough for the rent and the deposit. I called the customer service number on the back of the card to see if I could raise the limit, and they advised me to call the customer service number on the back of the card. Thanks, Bank of America.
For an obligatory Engrish photo:
I know this establishment is called SLOT King. But that cursive script is dangerous, when you don't connect the top of the "o".
I succumb to jet lag. After doing various errands, I came home for a nap at 3 pm, and woke up at 1 am. FAIL. Now I will try sleeping again.
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