I have returned. Kyoto, Japan is now 10,000 kilometers away again. I have yet to be home for more than a week and it certainly feels that way. I am call my friends for directions to their houses, forget to leave tips at restaurants, bow when I receive change from cashiers and often find myself dodging the left on crowded sidewalks. It seems as though I have strayed off my path. It seems as though I am lost. It has been too long since I have driven through the streets of Seattle, enjoyed the amazing international cuisine and hung out with close friends and family. With that said, there is no doubt that I am enjoying myself at home. However, the sudden and comprehensive change in my surroundings that I experienced just six days ago truly set me off my course.
The last few days I spent in Kyoto, Japan were for the most part unremarkable. I was operating on a "these-are-the-last-days" daily routine: cooking for one, biking all across town, selling the bikes I rode all across town, attending goodbye parties and getting to sleep far too late. It was with subtle realization, while I was carrying out this unremarkable pattern in the final throws of my Japanese exchange, that I came to understand the importance and pricelessness of the simple lifestyle I was concluding. I had almost come to the point of compiling a small list of trivial aspects of Kyoto life that I will come to miss. I never did write them down on paper, but I guess it wouldn't hurt to share a few nostalgic characteristics of the priceless past eleven months:
Japanese food: I may have eaten over 900 meals in Japan and I never once experienced the "gut bomb", "man I need to lay down" or "I am never eating that again"-type-of-feeling. Below is my final supper in Japan, prepared by Rakuraku's head chef and owner, Akira-san
My mode of transportation: I rode a bike with a basket and bell everyday in Kyoto. The metallic blue frame of my miniature mamchari (grandma-bike) had become an extension of my oversized body. I owe it all to my mamachari, the bike that seemed to ride itself home from late nights at the river, karaoke or Korean barbeque.
Bamboo: Much more interesting than Evergreen trees on all levels, especially sound and movement.
Studying Japanese by default: As a resident of Japan last year I was surrounded by Japanese everyday. From television, magazine, newspapers and conversation, I will always remember the power of immersion in language.
"This instant leads into the distant future"
Japanese as a common language: This was by far the most pleasurable aspect of my stay in Japan. As a resident in an international dorm, I had the opportunity to share showers, laundry facilities, kitchens and company with students from Sweden, Taiwan, Mexico, China, Norway, Korea, Germany and New Jersey. I did, unfortunately, spend a lot of time speaking in english with my fellow American dorm mates, but more often than not Japanese was the common language among the residents of Ritsumeikan International House II. Expressing my own personality and opinion in Japanese was challenging to say the least, but it did push me to utilize and apply the my Japanese in a very unique way. On the other hand, interpreting personality traits through conversation in Japanese became an amazing learning experience and a refreshing change in the process of forming new friendships.
It was truly difficult to say goodbye to my friends, the dorm, my bike and the streets I rode it through, the language I became so familiar with and the country of Japan that taught me so much. I have certainly not close the door to Japan.
Today is my birthday and yet I am so far from family and the close friends that usual surround me on this day. Instead I am in Japan celebrating with friends from all across the world; family surrounds me here as well.
OK, time travel. Two weeks ago I took advantage of a once in a lifetime opportunity involving the former Swiss Consulate General and a loyal friend from Australia. Last term, the fall and winter of 2007, I took an introductory class to interaction in the international community called Special Studies. My professor, Mr. Aviolat, was the former Swiss Consulate General and provided an amazing perspective on the course. He has lived on almost every continent for an extended period of time and has met the “famous and the infamous” (a quote from the 2000 Year Old Man). Either way, the class was designed for discussion, but with a majority of the students barely holding on to a basic understanding of English it was painful at times. At these uncomfortably quite junctures my close Australian friend, Jillian (Jill), and I would break the silence and share our comments, you know, to ease the tension, get the creative juices flowing. In the end the professor appreciated this effort to such a degree that he gave me his business card and invited me to his “club” in Kobe if I had any free time. I took the card gladly thinking, ‘Wow thanks, but you’re so old, is this creepy?’ Jill and I went to the club two weeks ago, far from creepy, borderline luxury.
An hour train ride on the JR line carried Jill and I to one of Japan’s oldest ports, Kobe. After a short walk we were picked up in front of Mr. Aviolat house in his car and were driven to the Kobe Club. The Kobe Club was established in 1868 shortly after the Meiji Restoration and was originally open only to foreigners. Over years it has become a hub of international interaction and hosts art exhibitions, that Mr. Aviolat organizes and hosts throughout the year. Check it out: http://www.kobeclub.org/modules/content/?id=1. So Jill, Mr. Aviolat and I had a nice drink and headed back to our professor’s apartment for dinner. I had a feeling of uneasiness at this point, like a ‘whoa, this is too much, I’m still in university, what am I doing why am I being wined and dined the former Swiss consulate General?’ type of feeling. Looking back at Jill’s face as we both entered our professor’s dynamic abode, I could tell she felt uneasy.
This is Jillian, from Australia, she's eating bread. The broken chair behind her on the wall was broken by Desmond Tutu himself
You know that smell, the smell a decadent life? There is a certain smell that resembles walls covered in foreign paintings, floors draped with one-of-a-kind hand woven carpets, a crowded living room of international furniture, tasteful music and a cute little women from Myanmar cooking dinner. I guess that was the kind of smell inside of Mr. Aviolat’s house. During the best dinner of my life, Mr. Aviolat happened to mention that Bishop Desmond Tutu had been sitting at that very table having dinner just a few weeks ago. Oh yeah, Desmond Tutu broke a chair, a nice one too. All that broken that night, however, was my waistline and my expectations for the hospitality I received from my professor. It was a very special was to say goodbye.
Adam and I at Rits
So I get home from Kobe still riding the high of that next-level experience and I find out that my good friend from Camp Solomon Schechter is staying at Myoshin-ji, a local temple, studying for five weeks in Kyoto. Without any delay, he and I make a time a date to meet up and before I knew it I was sharing the company of an old friend. He told me come to come to this small bar, Rakuraku, to have a couple of beers, food and listen to some live music. It may have been chance, destiny, Hashem whatever one would like to call it, but the night I met up with Adam Newman, my friend, there was a live Klezmer band playing at Rakuraku, no joke. After catching up a bit with Adam over a few beers and edamame, Hava Nagila came on and before I knew it I was on stage singing for a packed house of gaijin and goyim, about 15 people in total. The chef at Rakuraku, Akira-san, and his cute assistance, Kio-san, have become a new close friends and I will leaving going to visit them tonight for a little celebration.
klezmer
I was still in the middle of exams two weeks ago and as a last group event within the dormitory a bunch of my dorm mates and I gathered early in the morning and headed out to Osaka to go to the ever-famous SPA WORLD. Imagine a huge water park with slides, food stands, small pools and the works…on the 6th, 7th and 8th floor of a building. That is the kind of atmosphere SPA WORLD provides. However, if two thousand people crowding into small wave pools with children running, screaming and squirming all around you doesn’t float your SPA WORLD boat there are other options. This month the women were assigned to the European floor and the men to the Asian floor. So after bathing with two countless Japanese people, I decided to hit up the various Asian baths. Persian baths, salt saunas, extremely cold and hot baths and outside bath awaited me at every turn. Walking around with a damp towel on my head for hours, dipping into all kinds of medicinal baths really does something to one’s psyche; it gets you on the level. The mist enjoyable experience at SPA WORLD was definitely lying out on the tatami mats in Japanese room. Lining a 30-meter wall in the Japanese section of the 6th floor, there was a long stretch of tatami mat with headrests that allowed one to lie down and appreciate the comfort and simplicity of tatami. I appreciated and then fell asleep, after which I woke up and hopped into the cold bath; I never knew bathing could be such a rush.
farewell
i house farewell
i house farewell II
fireworks
A week after SPA WORLD, the Study in Kyoto Programme (SKP) held its bi-annual Closing Ceremony. It was very moving to hear my fellow students deliver speeches. For one, the content of the speeches was very reflective of all out feelings at the time. What was more amazing though was the speakers addressed the audience in Japanese. To be able to reminisce about the past year with everyone in the audience with Japanese as a common language was very special for me. The day after the Closing Ceremony I had my last exam and since then I have been running around like I have two weeks left in Japan, cause I do, actually only one now. My first stop was the ocean.
With Ai and Marina at the Farewell Party
Just a few days ago a group of seven friends, three off which I already knew, headed out to Osaka in a rent-a-car for a nice relaxing day on the beach. The short drive out there was very fun. I got a chance to chat in Japanese for a long period of time and we even got a traffic ticket. This was very interesting. Instead of the police officer filling out the forms in front of our car, he asked the driver to follow him to this bike. I was flabbergasted, because that exact situation is the kind that leads to a “World’s Wildest Police Videos” clip, at least in America. Running a yellow light in Japan takes a little bit of courage, a ten-minute chat with a respectable police officer and 9,000 yen (90 American clams), ouch. The beach was great. I made a sand castle, found a small crab, put it in my castle, soaked up some PTRs (prime time rays) and left with some nice pictures, a sandy towel and a satisfied smile. There’s nothing like taking a dip in Pacific 10,000 kilometers away from where one usually does-very stimulating, the ocean.
crab
My very good friend Kuri provided me with another refreshing experience just the other day. A 24 year-old Japanese man from Tokyo who returned back to university after spending four years in Tokyo working in the movie business right out of high school can only be expected to show a close friend a good time, right? Either way, I met Kuri in the smallest of allies in the northwest part of Kyoto the other night for my first “tachinomi” (literally, standing and drinking) experience. Next to the tiny restaurants and karaoke bars near Saiin station there is an even smaller bar with a capacity for twelve and that’s cutting it close. The men and one very attractive women that come to this “anaba” (literally, a whole somewhere, or in English a whole in the wall) are there for few reasons, fast service, crappy T.V., cheap and delicious food and of course to stay standing while they enjoy the company of their unmoving neighbours. I happen to come a lucky night where the store’s stock of maguro (tuna) was filled. There is nothing like a tall, cold beer, simple egg, salad and soft, rich maguro in the company of a good friend.
Beer, egg salad, Maguro . . .
Kuri actually also was the brains behind a group birthday celebration just last night; when one turns 24, I guess one’s sense of responsibility, if not already present, becomes overwhelming and if gone unused can, well, go unused I presume. Right, back to the birthday celebration. In the middle of downtown on the roof of the Takashimaya department store, I spent four straight hours laughing, eating and drinking beers in the warm summer weather and an entertainingly interactive atmosphere. A mix of my close acquaintances and Kuri’s old friend from his part time job and old school created a great environment for whatever limited interchanges people had between staring face-to-face with their beer jockeys or standing in line at the buffet.
The roof of Takashimaya, Asahi beer garden, Kuri is on the left
Today, 31 July, is not just my birthday. Today, in 781 Mount Fuji erupted; Emperor Nijo of Japan was born today in 1143; Fred Quimby, the creator of Tom & Jerry, which still serves as the monumental foundation of my adult character, was born today in 1883. With that off my chest, it will be much easier to convey the simple yet fulfilling day I spent reflecting on the last 21 years. I spent lunch with good friends today at a posh café near school and finally got a chance to tell them, three girls the came on exchange to UBC last year from Ritsumeikan, how I felt about living in Japan this year, learning not only Japanese, but how to live among the people that speak it. I walked home alone in the afternoon, cicadas ringing silently in and all around me; it took a long time to get home today, but I wasn’t lost. In the evening I went to Rakuraku and enjoyed some amazing food graciously prepared by Akria-san and his wife and was afterwards serenaded with a freestyle reggae happy birthday song by a slightly intoxicated Akira-san. I could not have asked for anything more except my family. I feel funny saying this though, for they are and will always be on my shoulders, as they continue to say.
Birthday Cake with dog stensil
Shout out to Luke McGrath, my good friend from New Jersey. Luke, you are home safe by now, but I House II has now a great void. I am going home in one week and plan on coming to the east coast soon enough, too bad they don’t have onsen.
Last September over one hundred jet lagged exchanged students gathered in one of Ritsumeikan’s brand new lecture halls for our first orientation meeting. At that time we had yet to cover any sort of logistics, so what we were presented with was a introduction to life in Kyoto and Japan in general. The leader of the session was Jason, the international student advisor who would later become a very beneficial source of guidance and friendship. Jason showcased his own photography, experiences and words of wisdom. The one thing I remember him saying was to take advantage of your time in Japan. With respect to this comment Jason mentioned one thing in particular: every year a group of exchange students has the chance to climb Mount Fuji. From that day in September I knew that Fuji-san would be one of my destinations prior to my return home. Finally, last week, with the help and organization of the Study in Kyoto Program Buddies (Japanese students who volunteer to help out exchange students), I was able to reach the summit of Fuji-san and more importantly come back to tell the story.
After waking very early on the 5th of July, shouldering my bursting backpack and riding the city bus to Kyoto station I was well on my way to Mount Fuji. However, once I boarded the tour bus that would take us to Yamanashi-ken (Yamanashi Prefecture) I realized that I had to endure a long uncomfortable bus ride before starting my climb. In other words, Japanese buses still do not accommodate for anyone taller that 175cm. I came to out of my sleepless daze as our bus arrived at base camp number 5 of 10 at roughly 17:00 (that’s five in the early evening, army time guys, get used to it). At approximately 18:15, after eating surprisingly nice meal of udon, fish, pickles and veggies, the yellow group (my climbing group) started up the mountain, that’s right, we were in for a night hike.
In order to avoid getting altitude sickness, which is caused by a mixture of the body/brain not receiving enough oxygen and not properly adjusting to the different pressure as altitude increases, the yellow group kept a slow pace until we reached base camp number 8. We had been hiking for four hours in winter conditions, but the fleece vest that I was wearing, which I stole from my father and the trail mix that I had made in Kyoto, kept me right on track. From 23:30 to 1:20 I slept in the closest quarters of my entire life. At least two hundred people were sleeping shoulder-to-shoulder in this amazingly small cabin on the side of Fuji-san only a few kilometers away from the summit. Sleeping above the clouds is something that I will never forget. I will also not forget waking up centimeters from my friend’s drooling face.
From 1:30 until 4:30, my good friend from Bulgaria Lilia and I made a mad dash for the summit and in the end it was worth it. In the last few hundred meters of the trail as we passed through a few Shinto gates, the sky behind us was glowing brighter and brighter as if it were pushing us the mountain. Lilia and I reached the summit of Fuji-san, just moments before the sun broke the cloud line horizon. It was surreal. When the sun had rose far past the horizon I had already taken the chance to take a tour of the summit, saw the crater of Mount Fuji, which is probably from its last eruption in the early 1700’s in the Edo Period. It was time to descend. I had been dreading the moment for the whole hike. That is, over 3000 meters of steep switchbacks and my Ramras Family knees. In the end though, we all made it back to Kyoto safe, sound and for me very satisfied.
The very next weekend was the SKP (Study in Kyoto Program) Farewell Party in the heart of downtown. These semi-formal events always turn into a fun time, whether fun means socializing with your friends over a couple of drinks and some nice food, or drinking your friends under the table that has some nice food on it…socially. After the party a mass of foreign and Japanese students dressed in suits and yukata arose from the roaring basement lounge and on the shores of the Kamogawa (the Kamo River) where the conversations and hilarity continued into the wee hours of the morning when the whole wide world of Kyoto was fast a sleep.
Farewell
This weekend marked the climax of the Kyoto’s famous Gion Matsuri (Gion Festival). In 869 during the Heian Era of Japan, the Gion Matsuri origin came from a decree by the Emperor Seiwa to pray at Kyoto’s Yasaka Jinja (Yasaka Shrine) in order to rid Kyoto of it’s current plague of disease. The current Yamaboko, halberds or floats that are still hand made only using rope to fasten their gigantic structure, represent the spears that were used in purification rituals during times of sickness.
YAMABOKO
Yukata at Yasaka Jinja
These things are as I have said, huge. When I took a trip downtown last night to check out the small street market I saw these huge yamaboko measuring up to the adjacent department stores of downtown Kyoto on my way to the original Yasaka Jinja in the heart of Gion (commonly known as the Geisha district). For having been built and erected by hand, they are truly amazing. Apart from seeing the packed markets in the small side streets of downtown Kyoto, I also got to see a very special parade in the middle of the night that started inside of Yasaka Jinja and continued through the small streets of Gion. The clang of the bells, the high shrill of the flutes and the Maiko and Geiko running in and out the sliding wooden doors of their teahouses made for a truly aesthetic and unforgettable experience.
Geiko at Yasaka Jinja
PARADE
With only three weeks left in Kyoto, Japan I am beginning to feel, how can I say this…uneasy. I will be going home, but on the other hand I will be leaving Kyoto behind. I will have to make the most of these last few weeks and I will not fail to keep you all posted.
A big shout out to my previous advisor Jason for giving me the advice that made this year practically worry free and filled only the best of experienced including reaching the summit of Fuji-san, the best to you.
I don’t like using exclamation points! Whenever I read a text that includes a lot of exclamation points, I feel like the person who is writing is trying too hard to convey to the reader that what they have to say is really important! Happy Fourth of July!!!
See, there is a funny joke that I learned in elementary school, I think in Geoff Ruskin’s class, that went a little something like this: Is there a fourth of July in Japan (I think the example country was Britain, but for my sake I’ll use my current country of residence)? Well of course there is, there is all around the world…yeah, I guess you had to be there…and be twelve years old in order to understand the true hilarity in the joke simple meaning.
Today is the day that I looked forward to as a child. The day where family and friends come together, eat drink and spend time together. A time to blow shit up in honour of our still young nation’s founding. As the day progressed I began to think about why it took me almost half of the day to remember that today, a day that holds so many wonderful memories, was my country’s independence day. First of all, I am thousands of miles from any true American media, besides that music that I have on my computer and the Americans that I live and go to school with. Second, since I always celebrate the Fourth during my summer break, it was hard to make a connection to the day of remembrance while in the middle of a regular academic term.
On the other side of my complete oblivious united state of mind, there are so many other important things that happened on this day aside from the 1776 Declaration of Independence and John Hancock’s famous signature. Let us reflect on a couple of monumental historic moments that also fall on this Fourth. In 1903 Theodore Roosevelt opened the first Pacific cable from Manila to San Francisco. More ironically, though, is the fact that today in 1946 the Philippines ceased to be a United States colony. Talk about a day to remember independence! Oops.
At the beginning of this week I had the pleasure of meeting my high school Japanese teacher, Tashibu Sensei, in Kyoto during here annual summer/spring trip to Japan. Accompanied with two handfuls of recently graduated Roosevelt High School students, I immediately sensed the presence of exhaustion in Sensei’s voice when I made my first call to her last weekend. “Would you please take the kids out for a night on the town Asher?”, Sensei kindly asked. Aside from my genuine interest in showing visitors around Kyoto, I could not pass up an opportunity to provide Sensei with a small slot of time for some rest and relaxation.
I planned to take the children out to dinner at a well-known eatery in the Ritsumeikan neighbourhood, followed by a healthy session of karaoke. However, I started to doubt my plans when the first group of kids met me with their hands full of MacDonald’s. Also, I told that one of the students had “disappeared” and whose whereabouts were still unknown. What else is one to expect from high school students? So as I rode the city bus from the middle of Kyoto to the university neighbourhood, with a group of half satiated high school students, missing one friend, I decided go with the flow and not change my plans. After a nice meal we took a nice stroll in terribly humid weather and proceeded to a nearby karaoke box. Two hours later I had a group of karaoke-hungry children planning their next outing that I assume will include more screaming and middle school nostalgia. The lost child was found and experiences varied.
I am climbing a mountain tomorrow. Kanagawa marks the most western part of the Kanto region of Japan, which includes the national capital of Tokyo. Lying between the border of Shizuoka and Yamanashi prefectures stands a majestic dormant volcano. My destination, along with 79 other exchanged students and Japanese students, is Fuji-san (Mount Fuji), towering 3,776 m (12,388 ft) above sea level. I have only reached the summit of two legit mountains in my life: Metzada, in Israel and Squaw Peak, in Phoenix, Arizona. Fuji-san will definitely be the tallest summit I will have reached in my life-that is if I can step up to the challenge. The challenge being 14 hours of climbing with 1 cup of rice, some trail mix, 2 liters of water, winter conditions and 2 hours of sleep. I have checked my list twice and am super pumped to climb. With my Mom, Pops, Grama and Chloe on my shoulders, I should be back at base camp soaking in an onsen (public bath) in no time. For now though, I have to finish making some onigiri (hand held rice balls) for tomorrow’s trek.
Shout out to John Hancock, beer, hotdogs and ketchup; dirty white t-shirts, spilled drinks, explosions and 332 years of freedom.
I am at a loss for words. I can barely move in Kyoto without sweating liters and having heat induced hallucinations. Before arriving in Japan, I was under the impression that Kyoto and Seattle lay on roughly the same longitude. After researching for a quick second I have found that I was correct. However, despite the fact that Kyoto and Seattle are separated by just ten longitudinal degrees-Seattle being further north-summer in Kyoto has proved drastically different.
One can only imagine how hot it can get in 31 degree centigrade weather with 80% humidity in school desks designed for my cute little cousins back home, but it is hard to fathom the heat endured by Kyoto’s famous Maiko and Geiko (more commonly known, but incorrectly referred to, as Geisha). One week ago, instead of my weekly Japanese research class, a guest Maiko-san so graciously came to Ritsumeikan University and shared a short demonstration as well as a question and answer period for the Study in Kyoto Program students.
The demonstration consisted of two short dances of the utmost elegance and simplicity. It was very interesting to witness such a formulated dance routine performed by such a young girl talented. Well aware of how precise and carefully Maiko-san are trained in all of the arts they practice, ranging from dance, shamisen, drums, calligraphy and song, I couldn’t help but noticed the individual influence this particular Miako-san had added to her seemingly flawless performance. For one, the songs were about love and the neighborhood of Gion (more commonly known, but incorrectly referred to, as the Geisha district of Kyoto) and, of course, Love. The most interesting dance, I thought, was a short anecdote about a butterfly, fluttering from flower to flower, undecided as to which one would be appropriate to settle upon; the song was about love. It was not until after the question and answer period that I realized why I had taken interest in this Maiko-san’s particular interpretation of the dance. The girl was fully and officially trained, white faced, restricted from getting married at the cost of losing her job and a mere 17 years old. Could there not be other reasons for young girl to so thoughtfully display wistfulness when expressing love through dance? And she was wearing many layers of thick Kimono; she must have been suffering the same kind of heat that I was at the time, of course.
In addition to practicing my regular school routine in this ridiculous heat and constantly rising humidity, I have also been attending my cycling circle without fail. This past weekend we took our biggest trip of the year so far. After heading east for 40 kilomteres, ten of which being steep, winding hills, fourteen members of the Ritsumeikan Cycling Club (RCC) reached the shores of Biwa-ko (Lake Biwa), the largest lake in Japan. Upon our arrival, we immediately stopped by a nearby onsen (public bath) to relieve our tense muscles and enjoy the company of gargling, naked, old Japanese men.
For dinner the RCC posted up on the beach of Biwa-ko and made huge batch of white curry rice with chicken potatoes and onion, a seemingly appropriate dish for fourteen hungry cyclists. With the sun well behind the horizon, we finally arrived at our humble youth hostel, just steps away from the lake’s shore. I was stunned when I walked in the entrance our room, to find all tatami mats, futon stacked in a smaller removed room and my favourite squatter toilet. There is nothing more comfortable than laying on tatami mats, drinking beer, playing cards and lighting fireworks on a shoreline.
Another 40 kilometers back home and I had successfully completed my longest round trip in Japan thus far. I were to share my favourite part of the trip, it would have to be my reunion with the utterly pacifying presence of water. As a resident of Seattle, I spend everyday surrounded by bodies of water and to be completely removed from such an easily forgotten joy of living in the northwest was much harder than I had thought. However, with the opportunity provided to me by the RCC and the endurance of my aching, sweaty self I was able to make contact with water and it was just as I remembered.
Shout out to Chloe, my sister, for she is departing to Israel tomorrow. Travel well Chloe, study hard and stay safe, for we will miss you and be thinking of you often.
3:40am. Sunday. June the 1st. What to do? I just vacated a prolonged session of karaoke. The room was to small. The room was too loud. I hate the smell of cigarettes. John Coltrane, Giant Steps-if you haven't listened yet, please do.
What I am trying to say is that language and the barriers it creates can get one into the most interesting situations. A prime example could certainly be my experience today during my field trip at a 200 year old residence in the city of Kyoto, capital of Japan from 794-1868.
When I arrived seven minutes early at the meeting point, I was met by a handful of my fellow classmates and a former Sensei of mine, Mitsui Sensei. As i waited outside the 200 year old house I began to converse with the only native English speaker present, a Canadian born male by the nickname of Spence. He and I exchanged remarks about what we did the night before. He went to a drag queen show downtown, I went to a hip-hop, reggae, rock, DJ show in the neighbourhood. Enthralled in the conversation that Spence and I held, we did not, for a few moments time, take notice of the blatant language barrier that had been unconsciously constructed among the eight students present. There were, in fact, two females conversing in French, two females speaking in Japanese-one of which was Korean-and a male and female speaking in Mandarin, respectively.
Instinct. Comfort. Exhaustion. Hangover. What was it that split our group of eight into four, multi-lingual pairs?
I thought about that multilingual encounter all throughout the hour-long explanation of the 200 year-old house that i quietly sat in, cross-legged, poised, knees hurting from sitting in seiza position (google it). Our lovely guide in a tasteful grey Kimono and orange Obi, shared with us the secrets and subtle nuances of the house that she had been born and raised in. From the iron cast iron doors to the early 19th century one-way security windows, our multi-lingual group sat silent, listening to our common language, Japanese.
Simple as it may seem, the encounter I had today has emerged numerous times since September of last year and has made a profound impact on my awareness of the concept of a common language and language barriers.
It had become light outside, 4:40am. I can hear the birds, but they sound the same, as if they were in my own backyard in Seattle.
Shout out to Danny Parker and my second family on the occasion of Danny's graduation. I wish I could be with you guys basking in the sun, praising achievements and riding scooters in Hawaii.
Good Evening Everyone I am in my room, trapped by the rain and looking at an extended forecast that reads 100% chance of precipitation for the next four days. It starts now. The raining season in Japan, 梅雨時 pronounced tsuyudoki, has begun. Don’t get me wrong, I love the rain and seeing as I am a Seattleite, I have my fair share of rainy day experiences. Yet, living in Japan does change the way one looks at the supposedly normal rainy day.
First of all, the smells…whoa. As a frequent traveler, for the sake of remembering my adventures, I try my best to take in as much as I can from any given place that I may visit, including the way it smells. It may sound strange, but smell and memory have a strong connection, in my opinion. With that said, Japan has a very unique smell when its dense foliage becomes saturated with rain originating mostly from continental Asia. The slight essence of bamboo and pine trees is something that I wish I could bottle up and sell to, well, those who are into smelling for the sake of memory.
To continue the trend of our senses, the sound of rain in Japan is quite different in both an audible and, strangely enough, linguistically. Appropriately, there much onomatopoeia to corresponds to the various types of rainfall. For instance, when the size of the raindrops is quite large one would say, ame ga (the rain is) しとしと（している）shitoshito (falling in such a way). At the first sign of a rain shower one would say, ぱらぱら（している）parapara (shiteiru). Additionally, when the rain is falling like cats and dogs, as we say in the West, one would describe such a shower as, ざあああzaaaa. I am experiencing and listening closely to a rainfall of the ZAaaaa variety.
Finally, Japan, the country of excessive accessories, seems to become enveloped in one continuous string of umbrellas. Men and women can be seen toting any colour, design and size of umbrella at the first sign of any parapara, if you will. Coincidentally, every single one of these umbrellas happen to be held at the same level as my eyes, which contributes to one of the only dangerous aspects about my living in Japan. Worry not, for I still see clearly with both my eyes, thanks to my cat like reflexes, speed and regular consumption of over-sized Japanese carrots.
Speaking of eyesight, I had the pleasure, last weekend, to gaze upon the numerous and various artifacts housed at the Kyoto National Museum. In weather far sunnier that today, the Ritsumeikan Cycling Club (RCC) and I took a nice forty-minute bike ride to the museum, parked and proceed to ogle at pottery from the Jomon Period (14000-400 BC) with its characteristic chorded pattern (the literal translation of the word jomon); bronze cast bells from the Yayoi Period (400 BC-AD 250) whose designs and craftsmanship were all heavily influenced by Korea; Buddhist art from various south east Asian nations all from the Yayoi Period; and bronze cast mirrors, lacquer ware, Kimono, emaki (scroll paintings) and poetry all from the Edo Period (AD 1603-1868). It was pleasure to see such a display of aesthetics and history with the company that I had. Japanese people. I have never been through a museum that fast in my life. When I was a child visits to museums always seemed long and now that I have grown up and found interest in the diverse histories of the world I actually do take time in museums. That being the case, I was quite surprised at the pace with which the RCC members unknowingly whisked past over 16000 years of their own people’s history.
At the Museum, pondering the Ponderer
Shout out to my Father. I wish you the safest recovery from your long awaited surgery. I can’t wait to see you stand tall. Mom, way to hang in there.
The nice weather may have helped, but with the assistance of the Ritsumeikan Cycling Circle (RCC) I have seen more of the Kansai area in the past two weeks than ever before. Since joining three weeks ago I have put roughly 150km on my white and blue Bridgestone, Roadman road bike. Speaking of my slightly small, yet sleek road bike, it wasn’t until recently that I had found out that Bridgestone was a Japanese company. I found this out from one of my fellow RCC members as he explained the meanings of the two kanji (Chinese characters) that the English name originates from. Bridgestone, in its earliest days was known as 石橋 (ishihashi), literally meaning stone bridge. So, if we combine our brainpower we can obviously see how the new, more marketable name was developed. The Roadman is a fabulous bike, really.
This past few weeks the RCC went on one exciting trip after another, after another, which would make three trips, in total, all of which were exciting…and I will tell you about them, now. First, was the long haul out to Lake Biwa Campus (biwako kounai, BKC). From my previous experience, I have only heard of people riding trains to BKC, so when I was told we were to bike to Shiga-ken (Kyoto’s neighbouring prefecture) I was had no choice but to put my game face on-followed by my helmet and backpack. After two sets of small mountainous hills, some amazing scenery, countless invigorated taxi drivers and 2 hours of biking through amazing foliage we arrived at BKC for the First Years’ Festival.
BKC’s festival was no different from the one held at the Kinugasa Campus (in Kyoto) late last year, but the size of BKC, the number of freshman and the recruiting tenacity of all the clubs and student associations made it a much more hilarious experience. Upon entering the campus we were greeted by the Rits big band performing some great jazz standards. After that we follow the crowds through the maze of small food stands selling everything from fried ice cream (ageaisu), fried chicken, fried octopus, fried mochi and slim fast shakes, not. All the fried food made the 30km ride back to campus much more euphoric.
BKC and the RCC
Starting on Friday, Japan has been experiencing its ever-famous “Golden Week”. What is Golden Week? It is another name for the four-day weekend that salary men, school children and exchange students look forward too; the weekend that housewives dread; the weekend when I went to the Kyoto Municipal Prison, I mean Zoo, slightly different from the cozier and spacious prefectural penitentiary. What I am trying to say is that despite the extreme hospitality of the RCC’s senior members by taking us to the Zoo free of charge, it did not soften the blow of the shocking condition in which the animals were living. Yeah, I saw three Giraffes, Grizzly and Polar bears, a Baboon, Silverback Gorilla, Zebra, Ostrich, Sea Lion and a gang of feces flinging Akagezaru monkeys, but the fact of the matter is that they were all within a 150 meter radius. Polar bears look so bummed out when they can only see children and not eat them, right? I suppose a Zoo will always tend to have that sort of effect on me, but kids were sure happy.
The domestic Fence, closed in by Giraffe
Zoo
Sunday was, without question, the shining jewel in my Golden Week-that is if Golden Week were some metaphorical crown that Japan wears for 96 hours out of the year. Ah yes, Sunday. This past Sunday marked the 10th anniversary of Osaka’s Takatsuki Jazz Street Festival. Over 1,000 jazz musicians gathered this weekend to play their swinging hearts out to rhythm hungry citizens of Japan and of course the jet-lagged, map-flipping patrons of Western nations. I was looking for sustenance that evening and was amazed and the bounty of grooving, laid back and innovative jazz that Takatsuki had to offer. Out of the ten or so groups I was able to see, there are two that I distinctly remember. One whose name I can’t recall, but whose sound was incredible were these two musicians who played in a small conference hall. There was a Japanese man playing both tenor and soprano saxophones who was backed up by this stunning Japanese woman who was playing the Japanese Goto, a very long and broad string instrument that lays on the ground. The soothing sound of the sax harmonized beautifully with the full and penetrating sounds of the Goto. In fact the two innovative musicians communicated the connection of the their wildly different instruments so well that by the end of the set many audience members were brought to tears. I was indeed moved by the unique harmonies produced by the two instruments whose origins and sounds are of such different natures.
Latin Bit, playing at the RUSH Bar
Sax and Goto
As we, Bob (Pittsburgh), Vanessa (Miami), Harry (England), Erik (Kalamazoo) and SoSei (Chong Ching), were about to catch a train back to Kyoto, we decided to make one last stop at a small bar, the Allure, to see one last concert. Hyper Sonic, who has been playing Jazz Street since its first year and long before that, was so good. Improvisation, communication, balance of sounds and an all-together understanding between the pianist, bassist, guitarist and drummer created just the right atmosphere for a close-quarters jazz concert. It was a great was to end the day and only reassured me that I will have to seek out more jazz before I head back home…in three months…yikes.
Hyper Sonic
Shout out to Daniel Norton, whose bike I have ridden and will continue to ride in good health. Hope all is well in Canada Dan, I see you in the fall.
First of all, a Hearty Chag Sameach to all family and friends across the world, for now is the time to remember yet another-quite important-Jewish holiday; they tried to kill us, we survived, so let’s reinterpret it, discuss, laugh, think and eat. It has been quite hard for me in this past week to get into the Passover state of mind, though. I am an ocean away from the smell of my Grandmother’s matzo ball soup. My local grocery stores do not have a kosher isle. I am the only practicing Jew in my programme and what’s more the nearest synagogue is in the next prefecture-the chabad in Kobe is the only one of its kind in Japan. With that said I have found other ways in which to honor the Exodus of the people of Israel. In the past few days I have been taking every opportunity to tell who ever I am with the story of Passover. Of course I sound like a bit of a Grandfather when I do so, but it does bring me joy to have expose my friends and fellow students to a significant era in my people’s history that they would have otherwise remained oblivious to.
In other news, the new semester is in full swing in many more ways than one. My new Japanese classes, to my delight, are very fitting for my skill level and I look forward to my progress in the next four months. However, my teachers, compared to last term, are sub-par. I do not doubt their ability to teach the material, but I have noticed, in a few, but all of my teachers, a lack of enthusiasm and interactive drive during class. I’m not saying that I am being taught by teaching certificate totting robots, but class could be a bit more exciting and the teachers could be a bit more approachable. On the other hand I have had wonderful encounters with my teachers from last term when I see them in the halls between classes.
Besides my academic endeavours, I have just recently joined the Ritsumeikan Cycling Circle (RCC). I heard word from my good Korean friend Segun that the RCC was where it is at in terms of extra curriculars at Rits. Taking the chance, I contacted the RCC via email and that same night I received a reply saying that they would like for me to join them for spring semesters first meeting. I showed up after class to the empty classroom, ate some chips, drank some pop, flipped through some cycling magazines and was profusely complimented on my Japanese skills, to which I replied, いいえ、いいえ、全然。(Oh no, not at all).
The RCC gathered on the following Saturday at the nearby Hidano Shrine and after a quick tutorial about useful hand signals for city riding, we were off, riding, in the city that is. After an hour plus of steady-paced city riding to the south of Kyoto we took to the hills-still paved. Our destination was Karazaka-ya Chouyu-en (Karazaka Bird Aviary). It was a pleasure to be able to see Kyoto from a different perspective. Not only was I in a not so crowded area of Kyoto I was in the south of the city, a place I rarely visit. The highlight of the visit to the aviary was, as expected, the bird watching. As I sat on the terribly small wooden benches huddles closely to the RCC crew we were able to a rare sight, the often-aloof Ooruri bird. Ruri is a rare shade of blue, so naturally the small birds main attraction is its strikingly exotic blue back. The real pleasure, however, was not just seeing the bird through binoculars, but it was hearing the elderly people rave about the Ooruri and that in the twenty years they had been coming to the aviary it was their first sighting. Exhilarating.
The next day the RCC met up again for a more relaxing day, that included a day-long barbeque by Matsuo-bashi (Matsuo bridge) on the west side of Kyoto. Similar to the outdoor American BBQ there are the three B’s: beef, blankets and beer. As one could guess though the feeling was a bit different. The beef wasn’t as thick, there were tons of vegetables, we were cooking yakisoba on the grill and there were hundreds of people crowded in one small area enjoying the succulent combination of hops and bovine. Aside from the strong wind the day was a success, especially because I was blessed with the opportunity to teach all of the circle members how to skip rocks (水切り-mizukiri, literally water cutting). Yeah my arm hurts, but as my fellow circle member said on that sunny Sunday in broken English and Japanese, “As children in Japan, if you are good at skipping rocks you will ascend in the hierarchy of the playground.” Seriously, think about, mizukiri playground diplomacy, the way of the future.
Before closing this entry I would also like to recall last Friday’s big karaoke bash. By big I mean 33 Study in Kyoto Programme (SKP) students saddling their bikes and taking the 3o minute ride downtown to the crowded intersection of Sanjo and Kawramachi-a hilarious sight, truly. After locating the karaoke establishment, our loud Italian friend’s lovely Japanese girl friend kindly collected our money and split up the fuming group of internationals into five separate rooms. One thing everyone should know about karaoke is that there is always the option to chose the all-you-can-sing (utaihodai) and all-you-can-drink (nomihodai) option for a much cheaper and hilarious time; Friday was another utaihodai/nomihodai night. Last Friday, how can I say this…someone discovered that whisky on the rocks was included in the drink menu and then there were none. After my routine Frank Sinatra, Fugees, Astrud Gilberto, and old-school Japanese songs I was holding foreheads in the bathroom and pouring waters for my lady friends. I thought high school was over. By 330am I had shoved a handful of friends into taxi cabs and was on my way home sober as a…I don't know someone who had been watching their friends lay down in the hallway of the karaoke establishment for hours because the lights were too bright in the booths. Mom, Dad, everything in moderation.
Shout Out to the close families this week and a special hug and kiss to Grama Selma who made it all the way up to Seattle for Pesach, what a trooper, love you Gram. Also, a big shout out to my boy Phil Casey who is on his way back home from 107 days on a big boat traveling around the world. Phil you’re my boy, thanks for stopping by Kyoto, it was a pleasure to show you around the spots and get lost in my own city with you. Big reunion in Vancouver when August rolls around, dig?
It has been roughly two months since my departure from Japan back to America and I have finally returned to Kyoto. I have just had one of the best Spring Break ever and I am so glad that I got to spend it with the people I did and in the cities that I know and love. I don’t want to dwell to long in my time in America, but I would like to touch on how it was to readjust after flying from the East back into the Wild West.
When I arrived at the airport in San Francisco the first thing I noticed was the lack of emotion among airport employees, both at the terminal and at baggage claim. I had realized, then, that I was no longer in the land of unconditional hospitality. I also noticed that there were many more noticeably overweight people and most everything was, to put it simply, physically larger.
I was so glad to se my parents at the airport the evening of my arrival, but it wasn’t one or two nights after that I headed down to Eugene, Oregon to visit my beloved friend Ben David. I spent a wonderful Shabbat at the Chabad house at the University of Oregon, braided and baked Challah in Ben’s kitchen and enjoyed the nice drive from Seattle to Eugene and back-I had been riding on the left side of the road for the past five months.
Challah
My next stint in the Pacific Northwest brought me up to Vancouver to visit my beautiful campus and see some great friends, including Zach, who had come back China a few months prior. It was really great to talk to someone face-to-face about the diversity of opportunities that Asia can offer in terms f working, learning and just simply-or not so simply-living.
I have not taken a trip down to Phoenix, Arizona with my whole family in a while, so when I picked up Chloe from Sky Harbor airport in Phoenix I knew I was in for a great trip. The family and I covered more ground in AZ than we ever had before, together that is. We made a day trip up to Sedona to the beautiful red rock and Chloe and I took an amazing little drive to Tucson to see my dear friend Jess Antonio at the University of Arizona. When Jess told us that he was having a taping for the UA T.V. News show Chloe could not pass up the offer. We ended up sitting in the live studio during the taping, which was a thrill. One of the best parts of the trip, though, was reuniting with some of the extended Ramras family. In other words, I got to eat my Aunt amazing blintzes while hanging out with my cousins whom last time I saw them could barely walk.
In a last ditch effort to cover the whole west coast in the small window of time I had, I bought a ticket to Ontario, California to go see my brother Micah at Redlands University. My five days there were also jam-packed and I was lucky enough to come on St. Patty’s Day weekend. Between the beer-pong tournament, the local burger joint, swimming in the huge pool at Redlands and kicking back with my grade school friend, I couldn’t have asked for a better trip.
Me and Micah
My last few days in Seattle were bitter sweet. With so little time and so many people I wanted to see, I got my priorities straight and started to work down at the Pike Place Market again at Three Girls Bakery. Being back down there was great; the atmosphere of the market is one of a kind. Also, since I was in one place I had all of my friends come visit me at work . . . bonus. Chloe even came down to work for a day, that was a hoot. My last night in Seattle I spent with some great friends Peter C. and Marty, who was celebrating his twentieth birthday, partying and record playing ensued.
Me and Chloe at Three Girls Bakery, Ruben please!
I knew I needed to sleep on the plain on the way to Japan, but I am far too tall. However, the sleep I could have got on the plain could have never prepared me for the following sixteen days. Walking down the terminal in Tokyo’s Narita Airport is an experience in itself, but to look over your shoulder and see you family right on your heels is a feeling that I had been anticipating for along time.
Tokyo was absolutely amazing. The family and I hit every spot we possibly could within our four days in one of the busiest metropolises in the world. Traversing the train tracks to Akihabara (gadget city), Harajuku (modern fashion-ville), Shinjuku (the busiest train station in the world), Shibuya (the busiest pedestrian street crossing in the world) and Asakusa Shrine was a very draining, yet rewarding experience. Moreover, my mother’s current teacher’s assistant at Roosevelt High School gave us the contact of her home stay mother from ten years prior and one rainy day my family and I found ourselves running around a train station trying to meet with Kosuge Mariko. The confusion arose from my intermediate folly for reversing the Japanese words for below and behind. Either way, an hour later we being toured around a one hundred and thirty year old house in one of Tokyo’s neighbouring towns, Moriya. The house left me speechless. Also, since part of the house was converted into a restaurant we got to try some hand made soba noodles, which were, as could be expected, one of a kind.
However, my family, having no prior knowledge of the Japanese language or the lay of the land, really put me to the test. I was translating, ordering meals (and changing orders), making hotel and train reservations and navigating via my Japanese skills. I was more than relieved to hop on the Shinkansen (bullet train) headed for Kyoto knowing that familiar roads, restaurants and dialects awaited me.
From Kyoto my family and I hit Nara, the ancient capitol of Japan, to see the largest indoor Buddha in the world (Todai-ji), Himeji Castle, Kobe, Osaka, Miyajima, and Hiroshima in a little over a week. All the while I was getting readjusted into my dorm, registering for classes, taking a Japanese placement test and trying not to trip on the bags that were hanging from under my eyes.
The Family at the base of the main tower of Himeji Castel
Hanami at Himeji Castle
I unfortunately had to say goodbye to my family today and send them on their way, not to see them again until early August, but it was my extreme pleasure to have the privilege to show them around and reveal to them the unique environment that I have now made my own. With that said, it was very hard for me to come back to Kyoto knowing that I only have four more months until I have to head back home. On the other hand, my triumphant return has helped me realize that I must make the most of the upcoming summer in Japan, which should bring even more memorable experiences, invaluable knowledge of the Japanese, which I have come to respect so much and maybe, just maybe, to the top of Mount Fuji.
A major shout out to my parents for sticking it out there. Mom the train stations were scary, I know. Dad you can take my seat on the bus any day. And Chloe, karaoke was above and beyond what both you and I thought it was going to be.
It has been a few weeks since I have been on spring break and I still feel great, funny how that happens. I have spent my break time well, buying Japanese books for independent studying over the next two months, watching a lot of movies (if anyone hasn’t seen “I am Legend” with Will Smith, get on it), cooking three meals a day, and going out for yakiniku (Korean barbeque). The yakiniku is a religious experience in Japan, aside from ringing bells on New Years that is. I have been shown a secret yakiniku spot in Kyoto and have now been there four times.
It’s small, it’s hard to miss on the street, it’s far from my house, it’s has the best beef and beer in town (Yebisu Beer, check it out) and it is owned by a very kind ojisan (uncle). The man is a Zainichi Korean, which means that his grandparents were taken over from Korea to Japan as labourers before and during the Second World War by Japanese colonial forces. The following generations of Koreans living in Japan have and still do suffer from sever discrimination in the economic, political and social sectors of Japanese society. This past term I had the pleasure of hearing a lecture about this minority group from a true Zainichi Korean living in Japan. Kim sensei, remarked that one of the hardships of a Zainichi Korean’s life is the struggling with one’s owns identity. The Zainichi minority does not have either Korean or Japanese citizenship and most of the time, do not even speak a word of Korean, which often translates into most Zainichi Koreans living in Japan to adopt what is known as a stateless identity. After the lecture I thought about the idea of statelessness for a while and was very unsettled by the ambiguities of the concept. It is very real, still present in Japan and something that the yakiniku ojisan has lived with his whole life. However, being a Zainichi doesn't prevent this ojisan from pumping out the best two hours of my month with the best beef, beer, kimchi (spicy, fermented cabbage) and ice cream in all of Kyoto.
Yakiniku at its best
Before going back to Seattle I thought it would be nice to do a little bit of traveling in Japan, so last weekend I hoped on a bus with my good friend Dan from Toronto, CAN and rode out to Kyushu. For the past two years Dan had been living in Yatsushiro, a small suburb of the Kumamoto prefecture in Kyushu, as an English teacher on the JET programme. So, before heading out to Kumamoto, Dan made a few calls and hooked us up with a place to crash and tour guide for a day in Fukuoka. The way by which Dan and I traveled to Kyushu is a common mode of travel among mostly younger generations. It’s called the yako-basu (literally, night bus). It is the cheapest mode of transportation for any inter-prefectural travel in Japan. However, it is cheap for a reason. Having ridden nine and a half hours to Fukuoka and thirteen hours back from Kumamoto city you can take my word for it. I know I am a fairly tall man in the states, but in Japan I am a really big dude and it was obvious when I took my seat on that yako-basu. At times the bus ride seemed like an absolute nightmare. As the heat from the engine blasted my already sweaty feet, the 100 plus kilometer speeds rattled the frame of the rusty bus creating a sound that echoed in my head for some time after arriving at Fukuoka’s Tenjin Station. Dan’s old hockey teammate Ryosuke met us in the early morning at the bus station and took us to the closest onsen (public bath) to wash off the previous nights ride; that bath in Fukuoka was one of the most refreshing I have ever had.
Touring Fukuoka with a native was great; especially cause that native had a car at his disposal. First, Ryosuke whipped up out to Dazaifu Temple in the morning to pay respects and pray for traffic safety and good grades. The temples’ grounds were truly amazing. The way in which the huge trees hung over the main bridges looks physically impossible. The most fascinating part about Dazaifu, though, was its small display of genuine Bonsai trees. When discussing their appearance with Dan and Ryosuke, I said in simple Japanese, “Even though they look huge, they’re actually very small.” Upon which Ryosuke nodded his head slowly and gave me a big smile-I think I hit the Bonsai nail right on the head if I do say so myself. After Dazaifu, our crew of three stumbled across a small market in the city. Packed with huge bins of tea, still living seafood and huge colourful displays of fish guts, I couldn’t help to feel a bit nostalgic for my good old Pike Place Market in Seattle. Despite the lack of handsome fish throwing brutes, the market had a lot of memorable charm.
Tasty in soups
Looks huge, but not huge
After winding up our tour of Fukuoka Dan and I took another, yet shorter, bus in Kumamoto city where we stayed with his good friend for the following three nights. Over the next two days Dan and I made two important stops, the first being Kumamoto-jo (castle). Kumamoto castle was originally completed in 1588, twelve years before the battle of Sekigahara, which ushered in the Tokugawa shogunate otherwise known as the Edo period. After being destroyed in a fire during the Seinan Civil War of 1877, shortly after the Meiji Restoration in 1868, the castle’s restoration did not begin until 1998. Unfortunately, this same renovation had blocked the top level of the main tower of the on the day Dan and I went to visit the castle. However, we were certainly able to enjoy the Uto turret, the lovely grounds and the early white and pink plum blossoms.
Dan in front of the Uto Turret
Our second stop in Kumamoto was Mount Aso, more respectfully, Aso-san. Aso-san is the giver and breather of Kyushu, providing excellent sightseeing, natural habitats, lots and lots of steam and liters upon liters of mineral rich water. After we picked up our pocket size rental car in the early morning Dan I headed out to Aso-san and when we arrived the sun was shining and wind was biting at our uncovered fingertips. The mouth of Aso-san’s crater didn’t provide much visibility at first, but after a short while we could see the steam heaping out of the open crater. Dan was telling me that in the summer it’s possible to see the water in the mouth of Aso-san boiling at more than 2100 degrees centigrade. On the day that Dan and I visited, though, the snow was piled high and the boiling water out of sight. Either way, it was a great trip out to the longest standing monument of Kyushu.
The old and wise Aso-san
The rental toycar
After heading back to home base in Kumamoto-shi (city) Dan bought some of Kumamoto’s specialty at the grocery store. Basashi, raw horsemeat, wasn’t the most delicious snack I have ever had, but it certainly was an experience eating it. Served with only shoyu (soy sauce) and ginger, I couldn’t help but thinking about the beauty and grace of the horse that I was eating. In the end my basashi tasting session was tragic and mournful.
The Horse is the most muscular animal pound-for-pound on the face of the Earth
Rolling back into Kyoto after my thirteen-hour bus ride was very refreshing and for the past few days I have just been tying up a few loose ends, packing, and trying to wrap this katana (samurai sword) for my buddy in Vancouver. I have been saying goodbye to more and more friends this week and it is pretty sad to see them go. This weeks shout out goes to Bjorn and Natalia from Sweden and to Chacha and Hyo from Korea for I will miss there company, conversations and comfort in this coming term.
I’ll be back in Seattle in less than 48 hours. Hold on Mom and Dad, here I come.
As a Peter from the movie Office Space once said, "Today I did nothing and it was everything I thought it would be." I am a free man. I completed my classes as of yesterday and now there is nothing but a clear horizon ahead of me. I worked very hard this term and I think it really paid off. I kept myself super busy, as to not miss home, a diet with cheese in it, and cheap melon so much. I think my diligence did the trick. Has my Japanese improved? I have been asked this question many times in the past week from both fellow students and teachers and I the answer is yes. Are you fluent? My uncle Marsh asked me this last night; I am not fluent in Japanese. I can carry on an OK conversation with someone, I can give and take a compliment and there is no way that I can get lost because I am an ace at asking for and taking directions. For me to become fluent in Japanese, an extremely ambiguous language with countless homonyms and honourific expressions, I would have to be in Japan for say another 8-12 months. The good new is that I am going to be here for another 5 and I really look forward to continuing my Japanese studies in such an environment that nurture’s my academic goals.
So last week Kyoto’s temperature dropped considerably and it even snowed a few times. Thanks to my Pacific Northwestern upbringing, my thick skin and super cool coats have kept me warm and free of illness (knock on wood). However, with North Face fleeces and hand warming patches aside, the Japanese have two very special, closely related techniques for staying warm in the winter months. One is the nabe, which I have mentioned in previous entries. The nabe, with its warm hearty ingredients is the most effective and delicious remedy for bitter winter days. Now, when everybody gathers around the table to eat the said nabe, they don’t just sit there eating while their legs freeze off, that would just be silly. The Japanese kotatsu, or heated quilt, is the icing on the proverbial cake of warming tactics. Draped from all sides of the low table, a kotatsu provides a very physically and socially warm atmosphere to whatever gathering may be taking place. I know it sounds like I am pumping kotatsu for sales, but really, it’s heaven in heated quilt form. As a side note, I would also like to add that in the winter months frequency of sexual intercourse rises dramatically as a way to beat the cold. Thus, come August and September, Japan’s birthrate experiencing a sudden, yet expected spike in childbirths. I should really move to Hokkaido.
Snow in Kyoto, never sticks
Last week was my last week of classes. Like many of my final classes at UBC, the mood in the classroom is very relaxed. In my grammar class we got to watch a really hilarious Japanese movie called Water Boys. The movie was a classic Japanese melodrama, with the usual extremely exaggerated characters, events, comedic relief and cheesey romance. However, Water Boys’ content was what set it apart from the other Japanese movies that I have seen so far. The movie follows five male students who are entering the final stage in their high school careers, which includes a summer of intense classes focusing on preparing them for their fast approaching university entrance exams. These same boys, under extreme and coincidental conditions end up as the only members of the swimming circle in the high school. After a young, sexy, new teacher is hired at the school the swimming clubs hastily gains numbers, but when the teacher announces that the boys will be taught synchronized swimming, the once crowded classroom empties leaving the five main characters. The sex new teacher immediately leaves the school due to her pregnancy, leaving the boys without a proper teacher and their pool in jeopardy of being taken away. As the predictable story unfolds the usual warm fuzzy feelings of a classic melodrama saturate both the plot and dialogue, but in the best way possible. It’s a must see and for those of you lucky enough to be within driving distance of Scarecrow video in Seattle, I am sure that they have a copy.
Karaoke with my Listening class singing one of the more popular old songs in Japan
On Thursday, after my listening class ended my whole class including my sensei (teacher) went out for a midday karaoke session. Karaoke is ridiculously cheap during the day in Japan. I had a great time singing the classics with sensei and my usual Frank Sinatra songs-the chicks dig it so I dish it out. Also I saw one of the msot intersting music videos while our group sang Under the Sea from Little Mermaid. The music videos at karaoke are usually very obscure and juxtaposed. THi particular video had hot babes playing with beach balls on, well, the beach. Anyway, save for the cigarette smokers it was another truly enjoyable outing at the karaoke-yasan. By the way, family, get your practice on cause we are going to tear it up when you get hear, even you Dad. After karaoke a few stragglers went out for the best okonomiyaki and yakisoba in Kyoto at Jumbo, which is also, for better or for worse, within walking distant of the Rits campus. Last night, after my final class ended, a bunch of people from my culture class including the young and energetic professor went out for some drinks at Kushihachi, a great yakitori restaurant within waking distance of the Ritsumeikan campus. It was really great to sit back, relax and enjoy a few beers with my professor who, as I expected, carried himself in the same way outside as he did inside the classroom.
Sensei and I singing the Classics
JUMBO has the best okonomiyaki and yakisoba in town listen to the sizzle . . . mmmmm
Shout out to Robert Woodward, for he departed from Kyoto today to fly to New York City. He was the first to go in my dorm, Ritsumeikan International House 2. Following Rob will be a swath of Koreans, few Chinese, and my close Japanese neighbour Azusa. It is the end of the term and it is only expected, but it I always find my self reluctantly saying goodbye to new friends.
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