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.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)