Beer, American Football, and Brazillian Drum Circles?

Where am I?

This weekend was by far the most internationally oriented of all my weekends in Japan thus far. I feel great, well-rested, and have now started this week off on a very good foot.

Friday: Try telling a group of college students that Beer Pong is not a sport, see what happens.

On friday night a bunch of rowdy cats from the other dormitary came to my dormitory and organized a Beer Pong Tournament; I hate Beer Pong. Essentially, one team of two throws ping-pong balls at a pyramid of beer cups at the opposite at the end of table and vice versa. Yeah you guessed it, the beer gets stale and fools still get too drunk for their own good, but hey, if this type of event is capable of harnessing some healthy international camaraderie as it always does, I won't get in the way of its success. By the way if a tall Chinese man named Chou and small Chinese girl named Tsao Jin ask you to put money down on a Beer Pong game, refuse, becuase they will reduce you and your Beer Pong clout to nothing.

Saturday: Football players in Japan, still 195cm and 132kg (6 foot 6 inches, 290lbs).

Saturday was a glorious day in Kyoto, very warm, no clouds . . . no doubt, a perfect day for some American Football. Ritsumeikan Daigaka (daigaku means university) and Kyoto Daigaku faced off at Nishi Kyokugo Stadium under crystal clear skies and just in time too, cause boy was I fiending for some rough-neck-grid-iron action. After passing up the chicken karaage, yakisoba, and over priced beer at the entrance to the stadium, I found my seat among the other exchange students and witnessed one of the more depressing games of football I have ever seen, you know like Roosevelt High School football only with bigger, more Japanese looking guys (in this case Kyoto Daigaku was Rossevelt and Ritsumeikan was one of the many Catholic High Schools that consistantly demolished our team). Kyoto Daigaku had about three or four players hauled off of the field in stretchers, but they still fought it out until the end. In summary, our cheerleaders never stopped moving, the score was 51-0-an all out RItsumeikan victory-and Ritsumeikan still remains second in the nation for university level American Football.

After the game I was coerced into going to this international festival at Kyoto Daigaku, just past the west banks of the Kamo river that runs through the centre of the city. You sometimes coercion is the best thing that this small, hopeless planet can offer. I rolled into the back parking lot of a venue that pulsed with cuban music, the aromas foreign cuisines, and nothing but positive international vibrations. The first thing I layed my eyes on upon entering the main concourse of the festival grounds was a Falafel stand . . . yes F-A-L-A-F-E-L. I had been researching the only falafel restaurant in Kyoto on the web and they happened to have a stand at this very international festival (kokusai matsuri). I was delighted to spend far too many yen on the falafel frankly because that is all that I have been wanting to eat lately and more importantly they had a huge bowl of schug (hot herb paste) just waiting for me. The night proceeded with an amazing Samba/Bossanova group that provoked a massive group of dancing hooligans, me being one of them. The last group to perform was by far the most exciting. First was the Capoeira demonstration, which was simply amazing. The combination of Brazillian martial arts and the fluid, rhythmic movements of dance made for a spectacular showing. Next, and finally, came a group of about twenty percussionists who occupied the ground in front of the stage, pretty much where the majority of the crowd had previously been dancing and observing the Capoeira showcase. The rhythm was overwhelming, the beat was penetrating, and I didn't see a soul who wasn't moving. It was truly a magical night. Before departing on the fourty minute bike ride home I made acquaintances with a group of gentelmen, all from Brazil, one from Sri Lanka, our common language was Japanese, this was magical for me. To be able to communicate with a community of avid Japanese enthusiasts has been a highlight of this year so far and it has happened on more than one occasion.

Shout Out:

This weeks shout out goes to Jody Granitor. A teacher who's class I never had the pleasure of taking, but who's cabin in Hood Canal, Seder table, and company has acted as an ongoing and ever-changing classroom in which I have gained an unspeakable amount of knowledge. I want to thank Jody especially, for getting me back into reading books after he recommended Takashi Matuoka's "Cloud of Sparrows" to me at the beginning of this past summer. Reading and Jody rule, respectively.

More Beef Please . . .

Good Evening and Good Morning All,

Despite the drastic drop in temperature and the over 40 hours of rain we experienced on wednesday and thursday, it has been easy living in Kyoto, Japan. This week my heart goes out to those few in this world who take time out of their schedule to communicate, coordinate, and follow through; thank you. To give you some context to my kudos I'll tell you of this week's events, all of which were organized by the aforementioned upstanding citizens.

Wednesday Evening

I had just finished a long day of classes and had spent an hour or so in the International Centre reading a photographic essay about the beautiful state of Washington (or did I just look at the photographic essay . . . ) before heading off to the first organized event of the week. The English Speaking Society of Ritsumeikan had been emailing me constantly to receive confirmation about a fun night of chatting in english, telling stories, eating snacks, and of course playing the infamous JENGA, which ended up being the foundation of the night's complete success. A friend of mine from Japanese class Jill and I were placed in a room with a very fun group of Japanese students, all of whom had the most rudimentary english speaking skills. After the drawn out self-inroductions, we finally got to crack the seal on the tea, the cookies, and begin a good old fashion game of JENGA. If I were to change one thing about the event I would have chose a game that involved covnersation other than, "OH, don't chose that block ... WOW, you're good at this game ... OH, scary, you're going to destroy the tower." etc. However, the bright student organizers of the the Ritsumeikan English Speaking Society had devised a way in which more conversation could arise. Who ever destroyed the tower would find the block that so fatefully caused the destruction, locate the coloured dot that was drawn on the block and proceed by telling a story that corresponded to the colour categories written on the chalk board. The categories were something along the lines of a love story, a summer vacation, a "getting angry" story, and what have you. Hori, a Japanese student and member of the English Speaking Society was the first to bring destruction upon the tower. When asked to tell a recent love story he said simply, "I cannot ... I have forgotten how to love."

Hori struggled as he stood at the front of the class room. A few words came out, broken and unintelligible, at least to the rest of the group. As the last syllable rolled off of Hori's tounge I said, " Trauma, you had a trauma?" Hori looked at me and pointed in assurance. He began his story, his words weighted down with almost a year of supression. He said he had had a girlfriend in the Kansai area (Osaka and Kyoto) that moved to Fukuoka, which is on Kyushu, the most south western island of Japan's four main islands. Hori continued as he recalled the sparse communication he shared with his girlfriend via phone and email that followed her unfortunate change in location. Feeling incomplete, Hori decided to make a last ditch effort to see his girlfriend, now in Fukuoka. He travelled to Kyushu by train, all the time thinking of the joyful reunification that was to come, even more exciting was the fact that to his girlfriend, Hori's arrival was to be unannounced. When Hori stepped off the train and found his way to his girlfriend's college campus, Hori opened his keitai (cellphone) and dialed the number of his girlfriend, not knowing that the last time he would do so. She picked up the phone, Hori quickly informed her that he was in Fukuoka and promptly asked if a meeting could be arranged. Upon hearing this, Hori's girlfriend would utter the last words he would ever hear her say, "いいえ、絶対無理です。(No, that would be impossible." At least these were the last words Hori would remember her saying. A long pause and an deep, audible, undefeated breath from Hori seemed to raise the spirits of the room once again, Hori is a strong man and it shows that he will some day love again. Heavy right?

Thursday Evening

The next night was more exciting, less peotic, involved alot less english speaking, and much more food. A group of about 10 exchanged students and roughly 7 Ritsumeikan students from the women's volleyball team went out for Yakiniku. These types of restaurants are known for their all-you-can-eat/all-you-can-drink specials; 2500 yen for an hour and a half of fun, and alter regret, for those who drink too much that is. I love cooking and that is exactly what one gets to do at a Yakiniku restaurant. There is a grill in the middle of the table and the waiters are continuously bringing new plates of meat, including and not limited to: thin steak, cubed steak, tounge (delicious), vegitables, kimchi (thank you Korea), rice, and BEEEEEEEEEER. I rest my case now as I indeed rested myself after that night.

I have been laying low this weekend getting prepared for my first big test of the year, which is on tuesday. As many wisemen from many different countries have said before-in numerous languages-and will continue to say, "なるようになるだろう。What ever will be will be."

This week's shout out goes to Hannah Miranda Miller, an avid reader, a move maker, and beloved cousin. Stay up Hannah, say hi to your folks and make sure Seattle knows that I miss her.

Until Next Time Family and Friends.
じゃ、また。

One ticket to Osaka Please . . .

Hello Family, Hello Friends, and all avid readers,

It has been as eventful week since my outing to the epicentre of Kyoto night life at the WORLD club. The very next night I found myself in the same neck of the woods, but instead of being accompanied by girls of the Swedish and French variety, I was with a bunch of Canadians, a few British folk, and a German, it was the Germans birthday. We started of the night by wandering aimlessly throught the labyrinth of the Sanjo area right next to Kamogawa (the big river that runs through the centre of Kyoto). Surprisingly enough, it is quite difficult to accomodate a walk-in party of 14 people on a saturday night at 2200, wierd. We stopped at a salsa bar for a drink, but the place made me bug out, for two legitimate reasons. First, Roberto, the supposedly Mexican DJ, was playing some of the corniest salsa music I have heard, or I guess since Azteca was still big in Seattle. Second, sitting and drinking expensive drinks and watching Japanese people salsa, however impressive and sexy they are is not my idea of an eventful satruday night. This is not to say that our stop at the salsa bar hadn't contributed any excitement to the evening's activites.

The place we ended up settling was much less noisy, much more practical, and no where close to the pseudo-salsa environment, thanks Roberto. On the banks of Kamogawa, which is strikingly similar to that of the L.A. river, our group settle down with some Umeshu (delicious plum wine) and were treated to a live (free) performance of Hiodori (hi, meaning fire and odori, meaning dance). The performers had the support of a solid rhthym section, consisting mainly of drums and other percussion instruments. The performance consisted of a wide variety of fire eating, flaming ball swinging, flaming sword totting Japanese men and women. It was very exciting, to say the absolute least.

The better part of this past week and the lack of my detailed recognition of it has made me realize that I am in the midst of yet another school year. When days run together, one knows that a regimen has set in. However, highlights are highlights nonetheless. On monday, a new friend of mine, Daniel from Toronto, CAN, and I went to the all you can pile on one plate breakfast on campus. There are two ways that one can covney the concept of all-you-can-eat in Japanese. One, is tabehodai (tabe, is the eating part and hodai, the all-you-can part), which is spelled using a mix of kanji (characters borrowed from Chinese, and hiragana, which are individual letters that represent individual syllables). The term in baikingu (spelled in katana, third system of writing in Japanese, used for words adopted from other languages). The word baikingu, I have been told, stems from the word Viking. Apparently all-you-can-eat buffets have the stigma of being associated with savage, blonde warriors of the Netherlands.

More about what happened last night. I was invited to go to the birthday party of one the Japanese students at Ritsumeikan whi has been helping all of the exchange students get situated and what not. Her name is Eriko. No matter how unique a persona she carries about her, she dresses like the other 11,000+ Japanese girls at Ritsumeikan: beautiful long hair, dyed and permed; ridiculously short shorts (nice legs), thigh-high boots, and ever-changing halter tops of all shapes, cuts, and colours. She's great and her english is phenominal (ly sexy cause she has a New Zeland accent), although I have recently requested that she refrain from talking to me in english, for purposes of my much desired Japanese proficiency.

The party. A train to Osaka from Kyoto is 390 yen; this is cheap, and it makes sense. We arrived at Umeda station in Osaka and were escorted to a restaurant; Barbara Market Place. As one walks in the grand entrance, fake deli meet hangs in front of the posh light fixtures as the faints shouts from the kitchen mix with the dull chatter of the restaurant floor. The high ceilings and red velvet drapes dissipate the sounds quite well and are very useful for creating more personal dining experience, or in our case a private party. I've found that this is the way that many Japanese throw parties. They rent out a place, charge a somewhat reasonable cover charge and treat their party guests to a very nice ten course meal and essentially an open bar, yeah. Before the dining commenced a friend of Eriko's, Yusuke, made a very nice speech, which I could almost decipher, and we all joined together in a hearty KAMPAI (cheers in Japan, or ganbei in China, see www.zwilliams.blogspot.com). Let me tell you, I didn't fill my own glass once the whole night . . . get it, I'm still in Japan guys and girls. The Japanese have mastered the dry beer technology, let's just leave it at that.

The food. I hadn't had cheese in Japan until the first course came out; cheese . . . score. Next was kabocha, which is very similar to butternut squash, but the Japanese call it pumpkin, very delicious. After the sweet kabocha, we had a small savoury salad followed by very thinly sliced bruschetta style meat, whoa. Shortly after this we had some amazing shrimp served hot whole, with the shell and all. Chopsticks aren't the best de-shelling utensils, but hey I always love a little chiton in my diet . . . chiton is exoskeleton for all you non-biologist types. The next dish was funny; french fries served in Japanese restaurants will some how always taste a bit like tonkatsu (breaded and fried meat fillets). A really nice pesto pizza followed the shrimp and fries. If that wasn't enough, we were served two more, way less Japanese dishes. Chicken, very tender, served on top of bay leaves and spaghetti, mmmm. The meal was almost over.

After Eriko collected everyone's student cards and shuffled them, we all switched seates and had dessert: a small croissant cut in half with ice cream, whipped cream, and chocolate sauce. By this time I had switched my drink of choice to Umeshu (plum wine, remember?). Also, upon switching seats I met the tallest Japanese man I have encountered yet. His name was Kengo and he was 185cm roughly, I think I am about 187-90cm. Either way he was way cool and we talked about how we can both almost slam a dunk a basketball, we were on the same level, you don't understand us tall guys. He also taught me some kansaiben (kansai, being the Osaka-Kyoto area, and ben being dialect).

The night was great and yes, the train ride home was still cheap. My favourite aspect of the Japanese way of life (nihonseikatsu) as I have said in previous bloggings (man I hate that verbage) has been travelling within Japan. Zipping by the countryside between Osaka and Kyoto is an amazing sight. In fact those same images were the exact same as my first visit to Japan in the spring of 2005. Which brings me to the close of this blog. I have forgotten to shout out in the past few weeks, moushiwakearimesen (there is no excuse). This week's shout out was inspired by my recent train ride through Japan.

Sensei Tashibu. I owe so much to my high school Japanese teacher it is almost unthinkable. To teach a foreign language is one thing, but to maintain an engaged class that is both excited to learn and is inspired by the language's country of origin is another thing. Sensei not only familiarized me with Japanese, a language I have learned to love and respect, but she also brought me closer to an opportunity of a life time. The ten short days that I spent in Japan with Sensei, from Tokyo, Osaka, Kyoto, Nara, Miyajima, Himeji and back to her classroom at Roosevelt in Seattle was an invaluable experience and I owe it all to Sensei. Watashi ni nihongo wo oshietekurete hontoni arigatougozaimashita.

Peace.

WON'T YOU DANCE A LITTLE?!?!?!

THIS IS A CONTINUATION OF THE PREVIOUS ENTRY, AS JAPANESE KEYBOARDS ARE TINY AND DO NOT ACCOMODATE FOR MY HUGE HANDS THAT ERRONEOUSLY PRESS BUTTONS WITH FUNTIONS BEYOND MY KNOWLEDGE . . .

. . . after getting spiffed up to go out on the town Nathalia, a nice Swedish gal, and I took the bus to Shi-jo (4 street) and Kawaramachi. It a pretty exciting intersection-big lights tons of people, and it smells of really good Japanese food. We met up with a small crew of SKP (Study in Kyoto Programme) students and we proceeded to go to an izakaya (a term used when referring to a bar) for a few drinks. We settled on a place called "Rainbow Bar" with the subtitle, " . . . all drinks 200 yen", which is roughly 1.85 USD. The drinks were cheap, yes, but small? yes. The club we planned on going to "WORLD/SEKAI" opened at 23:00 so we hung out in the Rainbow bar for a while and sipped ou rminiature cocktails until the eleventh hour was upon us.

WARNING, if you are a man (dansei) and if you want to step into WORLD, you will pay 2500 yen.

The club was great, I was impressed with the music and the social dynamics of the dancefloor were of another world, yet strikingly similar to that of Vancouver night clubs. It was really interesting to be dancing and have the emcee shouting in Japanese; from what i could decipher over the deafening music was pretty much the same catch phrases used by emcees around the world,"COME ON PARTY PEOPLE . . . LET'S DANCE . . . IF YOU'RE FEELING TIRED WAKE UP." The DJ played some pretty great songs: Naughty by Nature, House of Pain, Beastie Boys, but my favourite was his remix of 525,600 Minutes from the Broadway musical RENT. This guy really made the song into something else and it really got people moving. OK, the dancefloor dynamics. Similarities to the Western world: it's loud, it's crowded, cover charges and crinks are expensive, some people are too drunk, some people just can't dance (including Japanese women), there are foriegners, there is a feel good vibe, some guys are creepy, and girls travel in small packs to avoid encounters with said creepers. Differences: the music, I found, was better and more diversified, cigarettes is legit, people face the DJ and recognize he or she is there playing music for them, there are continuous chanting sessions," HEY,HEY,HEY,HEY.", nobody is grinding their respective pelvises on eachother, and there is a stage that only paid female dancers can dance on . . . wait.

I saw some pretty funny images last night. One being before we went to the club when I saw a huge blonde white guy in a Japanese robes, another being two unhealthily skinny Japanese girls with golden jeans selling tequila shots for five bucks with their golden thongs in plain view. The most calming image, though, was how I closed the night, with some water and a nice bowl of udon noodles in onion soup at around 400am.

It's hot today in Kyoto and I need groceries, peace.

SKOSHI, DANSU WO SHINAI?!?!?!

Good Afternoon Western World,

I may have found my niche, settled in an appropriate location, secured my equilibrium. Classes are in full swing and I can feel it. It's nice though, after an almost five month summer, which I might add was the dopest (what up Chloe?). I wanted to mention something Interesting that I saw in my Japanese Culture class yesterday afternoon (Friday the 5th). My professor Noah, a half Japanese, half Australian expert on modern (ie. post 1868) Japnese history, showed us a very intriguing and synically hilarious 1944 war time film produce by Frank Capra in coordination with the Information and Education Division of the American Army Service Forces. The film's title, "Know Your Enemy: Japan", hints to the films funtions and intentions of educating the young American soldiers of WWII. Ironically, the film is beautifully shot and displays many aspects of the multi-faceted culture of early 20th century Japan. However, the narration contorts the meaning of the images to a degree that overwhelms any other possible interpretations, at least at that point in time it did . . . that was the point. Either way, if any of you were wondering if you come to Japan expect the Japanese to be 5 feet 3 inches, 115 pounds, eating rice for evey meal (sometimes with fish or meat and loves to do so), to be decendeants of a common ancestor (the Sun), to worship the almighty Emperor, and most importantly, to have liquid Sun racing through their veins. The five part video series is available on youtube, that's where the professor got it, duh.

My ears are still ringing from last night. Yes, Japanese clubs play music just as loud as they do in American dance joints.

Last night may or may not have been my first and last night of clubbing in Kyoto, who knows, really. The night went off without a hitch and I have few things to complain about. Here's how it went down:

I made a quick dinner of boiled broccoli, cucumbers, and mushrooms over some hot, white, sticky rice. After havig a rice-cooker in my room at the fraternity house last year I believe I have mastered the art of the simple, yet easily tarnished, bowl of sticky rice. Either way, that's what I had for dinner

Rice-Wined and Dined

Salutations,

It has been two whole weeks since I have arrived in Kyoto, Japan and I have to say that I am thoroughly enjoying the rhythm of the city. Biking through the winding, and often unlabled, streets of Kyoto has been a pleasure and I recommend to any that travel to experience there next destination from the perspective of a bicycle, it's low impact, low cost, low to the ground, and unlike a bus, you can stop anytime you want.

Speaking of bike rides through the city, I got to trek across a fair amount of Kyoto last night on my way to meet a daughter of a former colleague of my mother's. I met Hillary and Taka, a graduate student and a Buddhist monk, respectively, at the intersection of Sanjou-dori and Kiamachi, a very hip, once griddy, part of Kyoto. Until I biked my route last night, I was unaware that this was the same place the Sensei Tashibu, my amazing Japanese teacher from high school that inspired me to come back to Japan, had taken us in 2005.

Looking for and finally connecting with Hillary and Taka made me think about an interesting concept: you know when you're looking for someone that you've never met before and when you finally see them, it is as if they could look no other way, even though you had no real basis to form a mental image of them? Anyway, I experienced this peculiar phenomenon upon our acquaintance. After our short introductions Hillary, an average height blonde American, Taka, a more stout, muscular, Japanese Buddhist Priest, and I, a six foot four American, proceeded to A-Bar, a popular restaurant-bar-spot for young energetic types.

The place was small and unlike the states was filled with the dank aroma of cigarette smoke. I could not place a theme to the place except for the fact that there was a lot of nude female imagery on the wall and our waiter was wearing one of those shirts with a caricature of a naked female torso. Anyway, besides the boobs and the extremly small benches and tables, the food was excellent. Hillary, the vegitarian of the bunch, ordered for us all. We had a tofu veggie salad, which was very light and refreshing; a huge udon soup with very creamy broth; some sort of breaded and fried cheese pumpkin pastry in katsu sauce (damn); some yakitori (chiken on a stick) for Taka and I; and a fish, whole, fried. I hadn't had a whole fried fish since Athens Greece at an Ouzeri and before that it was in Mexico with mi familia on the beach; essentially when you order a whole fried fish anywhere, it's going to be a dish well-ordered.

After a nice flowing conversation over a filling taste-testing-extravaganza we left the A-Bar to visit one of Taka's favourite sake bars. Owned by one of the most stylish old men in Kyoto, Nicchi sake bar, provided a very nice environment to end the night. As Dianna Washington's rendition of "Fly Me To The Moon" and other classic jazz standards played quietly, I was treated to the polar opposites of the sake spectrum. Apparently, sake (rice wine) is made in a barrel, just like grape wine. More interestingly, the sweetness or dryness (the two ends of the sake spectrum) depends on from where the sake is withdrawn from the barrel-either the top, middle, or bottom, I forget which is which. I was amazed by the differences in taste between the sweeter and dryer styles of sake. The difference in tastes is very slight, yet provides the drinker with a whole new tasting experience.

I had a fabulous night with Hillary and Taka and was even invited to come to Myoshinji (Taka's temple) on wednesday morning for a photo shoot for a magazine of Taka leading one of his meditation sessions. Unfortunately, I will not be able to attend. However, I was also granted the opportunity of spending New Years at the monestary with Taka as well, which I heard was a great experience (they eat noodles and drink beer all night . . . that's what I'm doing right now).

In other news, if it can get any better than sake, breaded and fried pumpkin, and cartoon boobs, I recently purchased a Nintendo DS Lite, strictly for studying purposes. There is a programme for the Nintendo that allows the avid Japanese student to scribble, with a stylus, onto a screen any kanji in the Japanese language; there are roughly 2,000 kanji in the Japanese language. This shiny machine the size of hand is a gift from Hashem, if not anybody else. Also i have mastered the art of the udon egg drop soup.

Shout out to my boy Zach Williams, hailing straight from his bachelor pad in downtown Beijing. You can visit his blog as well, I would recommend reading Zach's entries, as they provide interesting, insightful, and comedic perspectives on life in China as a wroking english teacher. Here is the URL for Zach's blog: www.zwilliams.blogspot.com

Keep it real Zach and try keeping it a bit more real Western World.

Until next time all.