Fresh From Kyoto

2008-08-14T08:34:00.006+09:00

Hello All

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.

Until Next Time, Fresh From Kyoto

Birthday Blog

2008-08-01T03:37:00.014+09:00

Good Evening All

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.

Luke and I

Happy Birthday Wesley Snipes.

Until Next Time

Mount Fuji and Back

2008-07-17T23:42:00.009+09:00

Good Evening All

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.

Until Next Time.

SEMI-Cicada

What DID happen of July the 4th?

2008-07-05T00:54:00.004+09:00

God Bless America!

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.

Until Next Time

Biwa-ko and Back

2008-06-17T23:46:00.002+09:00

Good Evening All

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.

Until Next Time.

Language: Barrier

2008-06-01T03:37:00.002+09:00

Evening

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.

Until Next Time

When It Rains, it rains for months at a time . . .

2008-05-24T23:20:00.005+09:00

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.

Until Next Time

Bikes, Animals and Music

2008-05-06T18:21:00.009+09:00

Can you feel the heat?

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.

Listen to Jazz.

Until Next Time.

Back to the Grill

2008-04-23T00:06:00.004+09:00

Greetings Friends, Family and Foreigners

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?

Until Next Time.

Guess Who's Back?

2008-04-10T22:53:00.005+09:00

Hello Again All

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.

Asher Ramras, back in Kyoto, OUT.

Until Next Time.

Coming from Kyushu and Going Straight Home . . .

2008-02-03T21:05:00.000+09:00

Good Evening All,

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.

Until Next Time.

Right near da beach, boiiiiii

From a Free Man’s Fingertips . . .

2008-01-19T20:54:00.000+09:00

Good Evening All,

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.

Until Next Time.

Congratulations at the Opening of this New Year . . .

2008-01-08T22:01:00.000+09:00

Good Evening All and a Happy New Year,

The title of this blog is a rough translation of the salutations exchanged after the passing of the New Year-serious business. I have spent this past week thinking about how different this year's New Year celebration was from previous one's. For instance, last year, I was in Mexico on the beach (or close to it at least, John, Jesus, Zach, ya'll know what I mean). Years before I was in Seattle on lake Washington living it up with a close crew of my good old friends, smoking cigars, all pretending we liked the taste, drinking a bit champagne, not knowing that tobacco and champagne isn't the best combination, and watching a firework show on the distant lake shore. From my past experiences on New Years in the Western world I have deduced that the hours between the closing and opening of a new year have become a glorified excuse to get together and party down with the people you love, care about, or met for the first time because you were wearing the same comical 2008 glasses. I'm not saying this is bad, by no means would I dare say that. It's that in Japan my experience was wildly different.

For one, on New Year's day, Kyoto was busy bustling, like I have never seen it. As I have stated before, when I went to the super market to buy fermented beans, noodles, and cabbage the store was a busy as I had ever seen it. This can be said for numerous places across the world-everybody has to prepare for a party, whatever form it may take. The party is what differed the most from my past experiences. Instead of running around like crazy to invite as many as of your friends to your temporarily open house flowing with dry snacks and cheap beer, a majority of kids my age go home, period. I asked one of my from Kana what she planned to do for the New Year and she gave me that same answer. She went home to Saitama-ken (ken is prefecture) to visit her family and chow down on the special foods made around this time of year. So, as a traveler in Japan, I did as the Japanese did: a group of my dorm mates and I got together and made nabe (hot pot) with cabbage, onion, tofu, mushrooms, renkon (a hard circular, perforated, white vegetable), udon noodles and the special New Year ingredient MOCHI. Mochi is pounded and reformed gluttonous rice. When added to soup is softens and makes for a starchy, yet delicious treat, and like rice, sucks up any and all flavours. WARNING: mochi is not easy to swallow! Every year, a handful of people die around the New Year holiday as a result of choking on mochi.

Nabe, and mochi, the culprit resting on the top of the savoury bowl of deliciousness

On a lighter, less deadly note, the nabe was delicious. So delicious that we even forgot about our friend who drank until he fell asleep before all the ingredients were cut for the festive meal. He's just fine, and hey who wouldn't want to lose a few pounds around the holiday season. After the nabe I biked, without drinking, two blocks to the closest temple-two and a half blocks away is the second closest temple-to meet our old friend Junko for a special midnight celebration. Waiting at that empty intersection was a really amazing experience, but don't worry I'm not that easily entertained. As I waited there for Junko and crew to show up, old men women, parents with babes in arm, and couples rushed past me to enter the temple just minutes before the clock struck twelve. Kyoto is known for its abundance of temples, and let me tell you, I came to realize this in a very interesting way that night. In the previous entry I said that people who go to temples on New Year line up to ring a ceremonial bell 108 times, symbolizing the 108 Buddhist sins. So, as I watched my foggy breath fade in the florescent street lamps, I was enveloped in the vibrations of what sounded like 100's of temples around me. It was a wicked ass few minutes before my crew showed up, just in time to count down.

3, 2, 1. Just like that it was over, not a soul in the temple made a sound when the year turned over, they just kept on ringing and soon it was my turn. I rang the bell and received a half-deep bow from the fine-dressed monk. Afterwards, we were served piping hot sweet sake (amazake) that had a very thick, mealy, yet enjoyable texture to it. The night finished out like anyother after our outing to the temple: sitting around the kitchen table, drinking, and telling jokes from our respective countries, about the nationalities that were present at the time. This is have found to be an amazing way of bridging cultural gaps, take note UN.

Just look at those robes

I am almost done with my classes for this term and am working as hard as I can to pass the time until I go home. On that note, a Shout Out to my hard working cousin Simone who is soon to be published in Seventeen magazine, Sam, and Mavis, the Mackoff crew from L.A. and some of my most avid readers. Love and miss you guys. I'll see you at the Scrabble table next time we meet, so start brushing up on your vocab.

Until Next Time.

It's New Years, Let's Clean . . .

2007-12-31T17:51:00.000+09:00

Good Evening and a Happy New Year to All

A couple of days ago I had the pleasure of showing around a few good old friends from Seattle, the Pulkrabek brothers, Colin and Werdna. We started off by having a bite at the kaitenzushi spot and then walked through the covered shopping centre at Sanjo and Kawaramachi Dori (the centre of Kyoto). The clothing stores in Japan are ridiculous. Shinier boots, tighter shirts, phonier furs and even more unnecessary accessories than any other place in the world. The funniest article of clothing I saw resembled a pair of jeans, if you can even call it that. You know how sometimes when it gets a bit warm out and you'll tie the extra layer that your wearing around your waist, well waste no more time and by the all new, flannel-already-sown-on-the-back-of-your-pants jeans. It was priceless, besides the 5000 yen price tag that is. After the shopping spree we strolled on over to the ever popular A-Bar, which is constantly filled to brim with foreigners and Japanese alike. Being around sibilings, especially out partying was really nice, considering my sister and I always get down when we are out and about. The Pulkrabek brothers and I found ourselves singing and rapping in the middle of the bar over a few delicious Yebisu beers across from a few Koreans who seemed really interested in our session. Yeah that was a good night.

I feel good today. I finally started a term paper about the affects of right-wing Japanese history textbooks on current Japanese U.S. realtions, I received a lovely package from my folks (thanks guys), I got a message from my sister who is in the midst of what sounds like another amazing trip in the land of Israel, and I cleaned my room. I even scrubbed my desks, which were pretty much holding the record of what I had been eating for the past three and a half months. I am a brand new man.

The sun was setting behind the mountains of Arashiyama as I went for a last minute trip to the super market before tonights festivities. Gyoumu Supa (Gyoumu Super Market) was packed with old and young filling there baskets with mostly noodles, mochi (a glutonous rice paste in small cake form), natto (fermented beans), and mikan (also known and satsuma's to the wild west). I was picking up noodles and fermented beans as well-just imagine how well I blend in here. On this imortant night a few good friends from the dorm and Junko, from the latke making episode, are going to gather for a nabe (hot pot) party.

2007, washed down with some piping hot broth, tofu, cabbage, mushrooms, daikon raddish, and beer-just the way I pictured it.

So Happy New Year to All and I hope those who haven't taken a second to reflect on this past year-who you met, who you said goodbye to, where you went, where you returned to-do so and do so slowly with thought and purpose.

Shout out to Colin and Andrew Pulkrabek, a couple of close brothers, musicians, good friends, and the source of all that is PulkraPower.

Until 2008.

Even Shinto Decorate Their Houses . . .

2007-12-26T21:47:00.000+09:00

Good Evening Everyone and a belated Merry Christmas

Last weekend I was graced with the presence of an old friend from the University of British Columbia, Noguchi Erina. Erina was on exchange from Osaka last year. This past Friday I met with Erina at one of those conveyor belt sushi restaurants (kaitenzushi) for dinner and a nice catch up session. It was at that moment that two thoughts came to mind. I love seared tuna and I am now able to carry on a moderately interesting conversation in Japanese for the duration of a sushi dinner, no matter how many mistakes I make or how many times I have to pull out my electronic dictionary.

This past week was pretty useless, in terms of classes and what not, considering the fact that before Christmas comes along, no one (goyim) feels like going to classes. I actually found myself being persuaded by one of my class mates not to go to class on Christmas, because she wanted to have the class cancelled in order to avoid missing any content that might be covered in class, ha. And yes you heard right, Ritsumeikan University, relentlessly conducts class on Christmas Day like it was just another day on the calender. Which makes me wonder about all the dumbfounded exchanged students who thought it ludacris to have class on the holiest of holies, for them at least. In the past few months I think I mentioned a lecture I attended on religion in Japan. During that lecture I was informed that less than one percent of the Japanese population identifies itself as Christian, hm. This seemed quite funny to me because just as in America, department stores, convenient stores, and houses were decorated with lights, trees, all sorts of Christmas paraphernalia. Small world, big market, I guess.

More importantly I would like to inform you all of yet another succesful gastronomic endeavour on the part of myself and my dormmates, even though nobody washes their fucking dishes-sorry Mom and Dad, I try to keep this blog as clean possible, but you know how it is to come home to a full sink. Last night we executed one of the most successful potluck dinners in Japanese history yet, which there have only been two, so were talking about a big success. I made kabocha soup: one kabocha (Japanese style pumpkin), one and a half cups milk, two chicken cullion cubes boiled in 2 cups water, one onion (medium size) sauteed in the secret ingredient 2 tbsp of butter, like the Barefoot Cantessa, right Mom? Anyway, my soup disappeared along with everyone's inhabitions, just like anyother Christmas party.

I'm on break now and all I need to do is remember how to write a paper in english without using an excessive amount of passive voice. gambarimasu (I'll do my best).

Christams, over and out.

Shout out to my brother, Jesus Javier Macedo, my lord and saviou. Miss you Jesus, I'll be in Vacnouver soon enough.

Until Next Time.

We're Going Multimedia

2007-12-19T21:41:00.000+09:00

Salutations

Thanks to a good friend I have acquired the skills in order to post videos on my blog. I have been eagerly awaiting this moment, as much as anyone would look forward to an additional ten minutes of looking at a computer screen. Either way, enjoy the multimedia. By the way the links are at the bottom of the blog, just point and click, you know the drill.

My Japanese research had a Kyougen Theatre workshop today. Kyougen is similar to Noh theatre in that is very old, all movements in the performance are predetermined, transformative masks are used by characters, the pace of the show is very slow, and the care that goes into the vocal presentation of the play's content is one of the few aspects of Japanese culture that is still hereditarily aqcuired. Very interestingly, however predictable, the composure of characters (how wide their stance is) is directly correlated with their status. High status characters stand with a wide base, those with low status stand with their feet roughly shoudler width apart, and women stand with their touching (ie. no status?). Another, more noticable difference between Kyougen and Noh theatre is that the content of Noh theatre is often serious and dark, while Kyougen is more anecdotal. The most interesting aspect of the workshop was the way in which the old married couple of amature Kyougen-shi (Kyougen Actors) closed the session. They said that it is common for a Kyougen performance to come to conclusion with a loud laugh and sometimes even a sneeze. Achoo!

The Game of Death:

1000 watt Latkes:

喜/Yorokobi (Pleasure):This video has given me trouble ever since i tried to upload it to the YouTube site, so just copy the URL and paste it into the web address bar at the top of your screens.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7YX414xmVbU

Shout out to my boy Zach who, on Friday, will be heading home to Seattle. Next time you fly to China Z, I'll be there with you.
Peace

Until Next Time.

It's Fun, It's Interesting, It's the Three Month Mark . . .

2007-12-15T23:14:00.000+09:00

Good Evening Family, Friends, and fellow Readers

When the clock strikes 1200 tonight I will have officially and successfully spent three solid months in Kyoto, Japan. I was thinking about this today coming back from the super market just a second ago. As I looked momentarily at the waxing gibbous moon (Zach, you feel me?), it occurred to me that when one can refer to one's existence in a certain area in terms of moons that duration of time has become substantial-this is a little abstract, but stick with me. Take my boy Zach for instance. Since the warm month of May, he has been in China-roughly four moons in WeiFang in the ShanDong province and another four in Beijing-working for an English teaching company. This coming Friday Zach, now that nearly eight moons have waxed and waned, will be pack his bags and head home to good old Seattle. I myself have witnessed three such moons, but full they were.

On another note, one of my good friends Azusa just received some excellent news after an interview with the Japanese embassy. Azusa was offered a job at the Japanese embassy in New Delhi, India. As of now, I am not entirely sure of what specific responsibilities she will be holding, but we are all very excited for her. As a token of our appreciation we held a celebratory dinner at a restaurant near Ritsumeikan (my school). A majority of our party were fluent in Japanese, so the experience was sort of an extension of the day's previous Japanese lecture. I chimed in as much as I could and understood the flow of conversation with some ease. Yet, that particular dinner evoked an awareness of my goal, that is to be able to speak Japanese without thinking, to resurface. In the first chapter of my language textbook there was a series of standard questions regarding the way in which a student of Japanese (or any language for that matter) should go about studying. The most thought provoking suggestion was one that urged all students of a foreign language to study with purpose and intention. My specific intention being to, without thought, speak Japanese, express my character and opinion, and most of all connect with a wider range of people and cultures. That process has certainly started and I remain intent on solidifying the skills that will ensure my ability to reach out, be heard, find understanding, and in turn be understood. After dinner, we pooled our pocket change and went to a KONBINI (convenient store) and bought all the beer, crackers, and cookies that we possibly could.

The Crew

In a few words, Koreans know where it's at. Instead of beer pong, flip cup, and chugging contests, the Korean girls in my dorm bring party activities involving alcohol consumption (drinking games) to a new, more group oriented level, while at the same time keeping it safe and far from the often committed folly of what my Mom loves to refer to as "binge drinking". The name of the game is "The Game of Death" and I swear it involves a very low consumption of alcohol, especially since our shot glasses are minute compared to that of the US of A. First there is a song: "Shin nanda, chiemi nanda, za gemu ov deSU!" (Korean); "Tanoshii, omoshiroi, za gemu obu deSU!" (Japanese); "It fun, it's interesting, it's the game of DEATH!" (Engrish). On the word DEATH/DESU each participant point at any person sitting around the table; who ever has been deemed "IT" chooses a number; the number coincides with for how many people the finger point path will proceed. For example if my family were playing The Game of Death and I was it, said three and was pointing at my father, who was pointing at my mother, who was pointing at my sister, my sister-being the third person down the so-called finger pointing path-would have to take little itty bitty shot. Fun ensued.

Shout out to Uncle Jonathan and Marsh, for they are the first Uncles to join the Facebook network. Nice guys. Shavua Tov to all in the Eastern hemisphere and to those in the occident, Shabbat Shalom.

Until Next Time.

2007-12-09T23:31:00.000+09:00

Happy Channukah to ALL from Kyoto, Japan.

Well I've done it. I successfully brought the traditional Ramras Latke recipe to a Japanese kitchen. The taste and presentation of my latkes were no where close to the caliber that my Grampa Gerogie or my Dad produce, but the atmosphere was certainly familiar. It is amazing what a little oil and potatoes can do to a quite dormitory in the hills of Ukyoku (my hood). I had to improvise with regard to the apple sauce and sour cream by buying a mixture of the two. However unorthodox the apple yogurt I used was, the sweet and savory tastes had me overwhelmed with nostalgia and by the looks of it had my friends taken aback in gastronomic euphoria, to say the absolute least. It didn't occur to me until the night was over, but I had assumed a different role in the big scheme of things. As Junko Uchidida cut the onions and prepared other secret ingredients to make the holy latke mixture, my good friend Dan from Ottowa was scubbed, peeled, shredded, and dried the potatoes. All the while I had assumed the role of latke-flipper. At the end of the night as I was pouring out the excess oil into a small tin can as my Dad and Grampa did before me, the thought that I had completed my ascension in ancient, hierarchical system of Ramras Family Latke making finally came to fruition.

Junko and Me

The Family

Finishing last week took alot of weight off of my shoulders, something that was in dior need of remedying. My ultimate obligation was to deliver a ten minute speech, in Japanese, on a topic of my choice. I settled on the Ainu, the indigenous people of Japanese, who currently, yet sparsely, reside in Japan's northern most island of Hokkaido. With my limited Japanese I was able to sum up roughly 800 years of the horrifically depressing history of the Ainu in just under ten minutes. Suffering from what I referred to as さまざまな人種の融合, or the fusion of races/people's, the Ainu's once plentiful and vibrant population has dwindled to a mere 150,000 in Japan, most of whom are of mixed blood. Moreover, there are few, if not no, surviving native speakers of the Ainu language. This fact could be a result of two circumstances. One being that the Ainu language and history were, for the most part, orally disseminated. The other being Japan's harsh repression of the Ainu-beginning in the Meiji period (1868-1912) and extending through the Taisho period (1912-1926)-to the extent that the entire minority was restricted from participating in traditional, religious ceremonies, using their language in public and, as children, prohibited to speak Ainu while in school. Despite these somber facts and statistics, current Ainu activism has provoked the founding of nearly 12 schools in which the Ainu language and other traditional customs, once outlawed, are being taught to the Ainu of the 21st century.

On yet another historical note, I visited the Kyoto Municipal Art Museum yesterday. I was given a free ticket to the current exhbition, featuring paintings from the early Meiji period (who can tell me when that was) through to the laste Showa period (1926-1989). I was privileged to the see the "Masterpieces from a Century of Bunten, Teiten and Shinbunten Exhibitions" that featured artists such as Shoen Uemura, Kikuchi Keigetsu and Heihachiro Fukuda. Please Google these guys to get a glimpse of some of Japan's national treasury. Aside from this main exhibition I stumbled across a huge showcase of what looked like thousands of framed shodo (calligraphy) pieces. As a current student of Japanese calligraphy, I couldn't help my self from walking through the exhibit multiple times. What seemed like a complete departure from original form and procedure, was actually a personal a pure projection along with the keenest sense of control, knowledge of the potential of traditional, and pure self-expression.

Vigor

Shout-out to my family in L.A., Sam, Simone and Mavis. Love you guys and love that you love my blog . . . love.
Happy Channukah to all, I really miss seeing your faces, that's right, yours.

The Seasons They Are A Changin' . . .

2007-12-01T23:37:00.000+09:00

Good Evening All,

I just returned from an unfortunate trip to downtown Kyoto. Why unfortunate? I am almost reluctant to answer, but I am obliged to do so since I posed the question. I decided to be my flexible self again and agree to go to an all-you-can-eat pizza restaurant called "Shaky's". I should have know from the start and from the restaurant's name that I was in for it. I did enjoy the abundance of cheese that had been lacking in my diet, but apparently forgot about the death-like feeling that accompanies the consumption of more than seven slices of pizza, mediocre and amazing alike. One thing I do not regret is the desert pizza, custard and choclate sauce, please, you know you would too. Before going to the pizza store, roaming the shopping district, I stumbled across a sweet pair of high-top Puma shoes, coffee coloured. I haven't worn high-tops since Bruce Katka's third grade class-they were Nike and green with velcro. Either way, I shouldn't have got my hopes up, becuase any fool who is . . . well foolish enough to expect a Japanese shoe store to carry a size 30 is dreaming. I like dreams.

I went to a Sentou (a Japanese style public bathhouse) on Thursday. The entry fee was surprsingly cheap and the routine was simple enough for any foreigner to seem like a trained bathing veteran. First pay the nice old man in the front; get naked; pre-wash while sitting on a bucket in front of a pipping hot faucet; enter the communal hot bath, mineral bath, cold bath, outside hot bath, or sauna; relax. I perposely failed to mention the most exciting part of the Sentou experience, the electrified bath (denki-ofuro, literally electric bath). The bath is completely safe, but let me tell you, the current is definitely noticable. after immersing myself into the water I could feel electric currents surge through my fingers, into my forearms and up to my shoulders, now I know how all those poor golfers feel. The electric experience was heady, to say the least. If anybody gets the chance to try it, please, humor yourself and hop in. After dipping into almost every pool in the place the crew headed out for some beer and a bite-sleeping like a baby ensued. Cleanliness is next to not Godliness, but rediculously old, hairy, smiling, gargling, spitting, Japanese men who, without self-restriction, glare at your privates.

With respect to the title of this entry, Japan is now in the midst of one its most beloved seasons, autumn, in which the Koyo (changing leaves) are indeed a sight to be seen. People from all over the Kansai area, flock to Kyoto's most famous temples and parks to witness the changing of the leaves. The most famous time to see this annual natural phenomenon is actually at night, when various temples suck up watts upon watts of energy for couples and families alike to witness the changing leaves lit up in flouresence; the leaves and the seemingly endless spectrum of colours they display are truly awesome. A couple friends of mine, Harry from England, and Robert also born in the U.K., went to Arashiyama-a huge complex of temples and grounds that was once a vacation home for one of the Shogun's inner cabinet members in the Tokugawa Period (1603-1868)-to see the Koyo.

(from left to right) Harry, Me, and Robert

There were literally hundreds of these dimly lit stone Buddhas at the entrance of Arashiyama

I was not completely aware of how interesting this specific and obsessive sight-seeing spectical was until I sat through a lecture about Shinto this afternoon. Shinto is often labeled as a religion-in fact Shinto was used as a politico-religious tool to unite Japan under the divine Emperor (tennou) shortly after the Meiji Restoration in 1868, ending over two hundred years of Shogunal rule. Why do some aruge that Shinto is not a religion? The Professor who gave the lecture today began with a simple explaination using the kanji for the word Shinto. Shin 神 uses the kanji that represents gods, deities, or spirits, not the big G-O-D, mind you. The kanji for tou 道 is the same kanji used for street, road, passage, or way. Now some of you might be thinking, 'I've heard of "the way" before, that's Buddhism.' Good observation. However, the kanji for Buddhism tells all. Bukkyou (仏教), is represented by the kanji Bu and kyou, Buddha and teaching, respectively. As in the case of Buddhism, all other world religions are written with the same final character of "kyou" (teaching, remember?). The professor also touched on the fast that each world religion has a founder, a primary text, and a place of worship (Judaism for example: Abraham, the Torah, and Synagogues). Shinto has none of these, except shrines, where even worship is not practiced, only the summoning of deities-just clap your hands twice. Thus, Shinto, not Shinto-ISM, is set apart from the rest, not as a religion but as a passage through life. Which brings back to the leaves. Spring marks the birth of the leaves, Summer, their growth-skipping fall-Winter, their death, and more importantly Autumn the time of their maturity. Autumn and the reccurring Koyo symbolize the matiruty that is to be had by all along the way, in the passage, and throughout the experience of Shinto life.

Shout out to my Jewish familiy everywhere, for I will be missing you madly this Channukah. And a special shout out to my Dad and Grandpa Georgie for the eternally delicious latke recipe, love you both.

Until Next Time All

Even My Socks Smell like Yakiniku

2007-11-22T22:19:00.000+09:00

Good Evening All,

I went to a bachelor party last weekend, yeah, someone in my study abroad programme is tying the knot next week, he even has a kanji test the very next day, crazy fool. Really though, this was sort of an eye opener for me. I'm not saying this young man's incipient marriage prompted me to start flipping through phone books in a desperate search for a charming Japanese wife, but it provoked me to think that people lives all around the world progress at wildly different paces. I am really happy for this guy though, although the events of the bachelor party did not correlate with the ideal image of a young, loving, responsible husband that I hope all Japanese girls look for in men, foreign and the like. The night concluded with our large group of gentlemen gathering at the shore of the Kamo River, in the heart of Kyoto, to send of the bachelor's spirit. The ceremony consisted of the bachelor, scaling the bank west bank of the river and releasing a small plastic phallus, symbolizing the freedom of this poor young man, down the gentle current of the Kamo River. Touching, really.

Me and the Groom

The Freedom Ceremony

The rest of the weekend was pretty exciting due to the two-day-long Ritsumeikan Festival (gakuensai). This annual festival consists of any and all willing circles (extracurricular activity clubs) to set up booths in order to raise money, have fun, make food for the people etc. There's really nothing like walking around a crowded campus confident that you are the tallest man within a half mile radius, not to say that I don't take joy out of looking at the tops of people heads (the Japanese have very healthy scalps from the looks of it, not to generalize or anything). The food was amazing-ramen, udon, sweet bean soup, donuts, takoyaki, hotdogs, korokke katsu-and I even got to showcase my Japanese freestyling ability yet again, this time instead of being in a smokey club, I was outside and in front of a much larger audience, tons of fun, really. The next day I returned to the festival to pay homeage to the Study in Kyoto Programme Buddy stand. It was cold outside, but nothing can come in between me and lukewarm cream puffs covered in honey. I ended up freezing my hands off giving our free hugs to introverted passers by, mostly tiny Japanese girls, hilarious really.

Me and Azusa, my best friend ever!

"My Socks Smell like Yakiniku" What's the meaning behind this? Good question. Yakiniku is Japanese for . . . essentially it is Korean Barbeque. The stuff is amazing. My friend Dan from Toronto, So Seung from Korea, and Kuri from Tokyo had made a plan a month in advance to go out for Yakiniku and last night it all went down, without a hitch I might add. The 45 minute bike ride had us all drooling as we entered the small restaurant. NOTE: Yakiniku restaurants are known for their poor, and sometimes complete lack of, ventaliation. Our original party of three had exploded to three French people, a Canadian, a Canadian, a Korean, a half-German-Japanese, a pure Japanese man, and one solitary American; this proved to be the best explosion ever. First came the tounge, then the steak sashimi, followed by copious amounts of amazing beef and Yebisu beer, some of Japan's best. The resident Korean was the man of the hour, manning both of the grills, keeping everyones bowl full of meat and glasses full of beer, and encouraging what the Koreans call "oneshot" or what my mother calls "doing something stupid" (don't worry Ma, here I sit writing in good health).

Shout out to the Parker Family, Wayne, Helene, Danny and Micah, my second family, enough said.

Happy Thanksgiving?

Culture Overload . . . in a good way

2007-11-13T18:13:00.000+09:00

Good Evening All,

This past week started with an eye-opening walk through "The Exhibition of Paul Binnie: Continuing the Japanese Tradition-Woodblock Prints from a Western Perspective". Since the show was on campus I was able to see it during one of my long breaks between classes. This allowed me to liesurely roam around the exhibition, read all the captions of the prints, flip through Binnie's book that chronicled his life in Japan and elsewhere, and really appreciate the rarity of what was presented before me. I suggest any and all to browse Binnie's website and take a look at his work, which ranges from oil paintings of lanscapes to Japnese style woodblock prints of the most infamous Kabuki superstars: http://www.paulbinnie.co.uk/.

Nakamura Ganjiro in Sonezakishinju

The day I saw the Paul Binnie was the same day of my Japanese Research class' field trip to a paper making store in the heart of Kyoto. The set up of of the paper making process was such that only one person could make paper at a time, so there was a lot of waiting involved-I chose to meander around the storefront stalked with some amazing paper light fixtures. The process of paper making is quite simple: mix water, paper fibers, and unidentified gooey stuff in a large bucket; firmly grasp wooden frame with fine copper mesh and submerge the frame in the fiber mixutre; raise the frame out of the water and proceed to tilt the frame back and forth and side-to-side allowing excess water to fall through the fine copper mesh; bring the frame with a layer of condensed fiber and drag it over a high power vacuum (this is obviously the coolest step); once most of the excess is water is sucked from the moist fiber, bring the frame over to the dying table and apply the desired colours to the thin layer of still damp fiber-add more dye than you think you need; after repeating the vacuum step to remove the excess dye, flip your frame around and give one of the top corners a hearty blow, like the big bad wolf (this is the second coolest step); peel the sheet of fiber from the copper mesh very slowly; after fully removing the fiber sheet from the frame, apply, with a dry brush, the sheet to a heated steel panel; wait roughly 5-8 minutes to dry; and enjoy the fruits of traditional Japanese labour.

The Store Front

This past friday was actually one of the funnest nights in Japan thus far. On the week of Halloween the Study in Kyoto Programme (SKP) Buddies (students from Ritsumeikan who help out exchanged students at school) threw a little party for the foreign students. I dressed up as one of the resident tree trimmers on the Ritsumeikan campus, fully equipped with Tabi (or ninja shoes shoes to most foreigners), baggy cargo pants, and white gloves. Half way through the party I noticed a swath of people pulsating around the boombox; this was no unfamiliar site to me, this was a rap session. I dashed over to the circle and sure enough there was rappin' a'happnin', mind you most of it was in Japanese. I contributed as much as I could in Japnese and continued in English until the circle broke. At that point I was approached by a stalky, poofy haired, young, Japanese man named Natsuki.
"Call me Natsu, have a ticket to my concert this weekend, I'm DJing, I'm so glad you like Hip-Hop."
So on friday I headed to Jigen-ya, a tiny venue, with tinier drinks, and a non existant policy for not smoking in doors. Once the first act, a fairly impressive Red Hot Chilli Peppers (レッチリ, in Japanese) coverband, closed their set a semi-Reggae/Hip-Hop MC assumed his position on stage behind the mic-stand. A few songs into to his set a number of random audience members, who later had sets in the show, were shoved on stage and added lyrics to a few courses of old, remixed reggae records. Without warning I, too, was thrust up on to the stage, a warm mic shoved into my hand. I did what I had to . . .
"皆さん、英語でいいですか。わたしはアッシャー、シアトルから来ました。” (Minasan, eigode iidesuka? Watashiwa Ashya, Shiatoru kara kimashita."
The first two lines of my freestyle were in Japanese, the rhymed and the crowd went wild. I continued in English with continuous positives vibes from the crowd of around 30 Japanese youth. Call it my debut, MC Takai Gaijin (Tall Foreigner).

Rapping at Jigen-ya

A genuine shout out to my Kathy and David, my Aunt and Uncle in Phoenix, Arizona. Love you guys, miss you more. Additionally, I am overjoyed to here of Kathy's persistent health.

Until Next Time.

Kobe Beef: It's what you want for dinner

2007-11-06T22:14:00.000+09:00

Good Evening Everyone.

This weekend a fellow house mate of mine, Mariko, invited me to go see her aunt's art exhibition in Kobe. I was down for what ever, so I graciously accpeted her offer. We woke up late on saturday and took the Hankyu Line down to Osaka, transfered at Katsura, and finally got off at Shinomiya Station in Kobe. All together the trip took roughly an hour and a half and only cost 600 yen (eachway). I am still getting used to living in a country with an extermely convenient, effecient, and affordable public transportation system. When we got off the train I saw a man in a dark purple suit standing next to a bright white chicken with one of those nasty flaps of skin on it's head . . . a rooster I guess; 'So this is Kobe', I thought to myself.

After winding through the unfamiliar streets of the city we finally found the venue in which Mariko's aunt's work was being shown. The space was very cool, but I felt that it would have been much better if it were at night and there was cheese and wine and things. However, it was 1300 and cheese is damn expensive in Japan. All of the paintings in the exhibition shared a common theme: women, fat women, partying hard, one way or another. There were fat women playing music, drinking (almost in every piece), laughing, flying and what ever else jolly females do when they get together on a crowded canvas. The whole time I was waking around the venue I couldn't help but think of my first art teacher, Karen. She would have loved this place, maybe the paintings, I couldn't say, but if she hadn't like the paintings she certainly would have enjoyed the ample books on ceramics they were displaying, I space out on those books for a while, let me tell you.

After a nice lunch in the city (which was definitely not Kobe beef, because it costs so much money I can't impress it upon you enough) we strolled around the streets looking at the older European houses that Kobe is known for. They are indeed beautiful, but paintfully out of context, which is the case for alot of architecture in Kobe. After the catastrophic earthquake that hit Kobe in 1995, the city underwent an intense period of rebuilding, literally from the ground up. I felt alot of sorrow walking through the smaller streets of Kobe, passing house after house thinking that I could have been anywhere in the world. I think my conciousness was weighed down by these familiar looking buildings because I had finally started to become accustom to a country widely recognized for its impressive and unique architecutre. However, the city is still beautiful and full of life amidst an increasing international presence. At one of the more famous German houses I saw a street artists showcasing some calligraphy. HIs finished product style yielded some oohs, and aaaawes, yet it was his unorthodox style of holding the brush and the way in which he used the brush tip that caught my eye.

After our leisurely jaunt we headed to the so-called China Town of Kobe. OH! on the way to China Town I stumbled across the Ohel Shelomo Synagogue, which is apparently, the headquarters for the Jewish Community of Kansai. I was really happy. Essentially, the China Town of Kobe was two or three squares blocks of street food and Chinese super markets, no residents or anything. I'm not saying that I was ungrateful, the street food was awesome and they even had a small plaza with statues of all the animals of the Chinese calender-in my other life I AM a rabbit.

We headed to the Port of Kobe after we had exhausted ourselves in China Town. Kobe tower was pretty . . . tall, ha-every major city in Japan has a tower, Kyoto Tower, Tokyo Tower and yes, Kobe too. We walked through the ridiculous mall with the biggest public cafeteria I had ever seen in my life. We rode the roller coaster at the end of the pier, I could barely fit into the damn thing, seriously, I almost felt fat, but I knew it was because my frame was too big for the roller coaster seats. Regardless, but not chest-gaurdless, the roller coaster was a much needed get away from the super grown up life I have been living lately . . . right? That was pretty much the conclusion of my trip to Kobe, the first of many I hope.

I finished a book two nights ago, Haruki Murakami's "Norwegian Wood". I loved the book, to the last page. It was easy to read and too hard to put down, so read it seriously, all of you. Murakami is a master of enthralling story lines, intricate character developent, imagery, emotion and the natural conglomeration of all of the above.

I made sushi tonight with the salmon I just got from my folks in the mail, THANK YOU MOM AND DAD. I am fat and happy right now, really, feeling great.

In light of my recent excursion in Kobe, I'd like to shout out to my first art teacher Karen Kosoglad. I still throw pots with her every year and I cherish that skill that she has helped me attain and even more the relationship that has grown that process.

Until next time all. Enjoy the photos.

Beer, American Football, and Brazillian Drum Circles?

2007-10-29T22:59:00.000+09:00

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 . . .

2007-10-21T22:42:00.000+09:00

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 . . .

2007-10-14T21:26:00.000+09:00

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?!?!?!

2007-10-06T15:15:00.000+09:00

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?!?!?!

2007-10-06T14:56:00.000+09:00

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

2007-10-01T22:09:00.000+09:00

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.

Koreans: They put the "K" in "Kings of Partying"

2007-09-25T21:09:00.000+09:00

Good Evening to ALL

Last weekend was quite eventful in terms of harnessing some healthy group dynamics in my dorm. Needless to say it was a potluck dinner that brought us all together.

So what did I make? Google has millions of recipes that cater to the tastes of billions of people all across the world, I found the one that 30 international students ended up loving-this goes without mentioning the trials and tribulations I went through to get my beautiful bowl of rice pudding on the serving table in our downstairs lounge. I have been told, by one person, that "Asians" don't like, no, hate sweet rice. Ok, so I had a tough crowd to deal with, whatever right?

At 1900 hours on the dot (that's 7:00 pm to the US of A) people came pouring into the lounge with oven baked pizzas, veggie platters, sweet and condenced milk donuts, chicken and cabbage stew, and the like. I proudly put my rice pudding on the table and you couldn't guess what happened next. There were some Koreans who were giving me trouble about cooking top ramen the other night and as one of them bent over the bowl of rice pudding on the night of the potlcuk, she turned to me and asked in Japanese, "NANIKA?" (what's this?) I responded as articulately as I could, "RAISU PURINDESU." (rice pudding) The Korean (Hyo-san) jumped back, as if I had told her, " Rice pudding . . . with a king cobra garnish on the bottom." Maybe Asians don't like sweet rice.

The party lived on. I put Sgt. Pepper's on the speakers and the whisky, sake (in a huge carton), plum wine (also in a huge carton), and beer began to flow. This is when the Koreans began to show their true, yet still beautiful, faces. They had everyone doing these hilarious hand motions before drinking and of course there was a song to along with the choreography. I got some exclusive footage, so if anyone is interesed, holler. To say the least, it was a glorious night of international bonding-when was teh last time the UN had a potluck dinner? Hm.

Today was the last day of orientation, during which we recieved our Japanese language placement results and our course selections for the ensuing term. To my delight, I was placed in the C level class; Japanese classes range from A (Advanced) to E (eeeeh, what'd you say?). So I think I am in the appropriate class. Additionaly, I was very pleased with the other classes available for registration. I have selected three courses that suit my Anthropological direction of study: United States and Japanese Relations, Japanese Culture, and the ringer, Comparative Historiography. I am most interested in Comparative Historiography even after reading only the limited course description and primary source, "Censoring History: Citizenship and Memory in Japan, Germany, and the United States", by Laura Hein and Mark Selden.

Japanese class starts tomorrow everybody, so bring your pencils and erasers. GAMBARIMASU (I'll do my best). And as i promised shout-outs start this week: a big shout-out to Chloe, Gramma, Mom, and Dad, with out you guys, I wouldn't be where I am, which is somewhere I ahve always wanted to be, THANK YOU and LOVE YOU.

Bathing is Essential

2007-09-22T21:56:00.003+09:00

Konbanwa and Good Evening,

I hope everyone had as easy a fast as I did today. Kyoto was a blazing 34 centigrate today, around 94 degrees in the western world, so I stayed in most of the day contemplating my life and position in the Judaeo-scientific cosmos.

The Study in Kyoto Programme officially began this friday when our buddies (students of Ritsumeikan) put on a Welcome Ceremony in the centre of campus. We were addressed by the President of International Affairs with a heart warming speech about how our position at Rits is very essential and complementary to the insitution as a whole. It seems as though Ritsumeikan is very proud of its international composition just as much as UBC, it's nice to be in such an environment.

My bike (pictured top-left) has been treating me very well and has made Kyoto a much more accessible city. I recently made a trip to the grocery store (finally) which took a matter of minutes by bike. When I arrived at the grocery store a huge group of young children swarmed past me looking up in awe. They kept asking me, with there limited English, "Nice to meet you . . . How are you?" I gave them simple anwers in Japanese only to receive muffled laughter and even more stares, really cute stares. The girls seemed much more shy than the talkative boys.

On another note, we still haven't registered for courses yet and frankly, no matter how odd it may sound, I am beginning to feel the need to be busy again. This has been by far the longest summer I have ever had. My last day of school in Vancouver was the 29th of April, which makes almost five months of summer time. The living was easy this summer, but I think I am ready for some action, especially some obligatory, rigorous Japanese study time.

Last night a friend of mine from the dorm Bjourn and I decided to make use of the Ofuro (Japanese shower/bath combo room). Here's the routine: start to fill up the bath, get naked, grab a bucket, flip it over, sit down, grab a wash basin, turn on the water, soap and shampoo yourself thoroughly, talk to your intelligent Swedish friend about travelling, then go into the bath, relax, space out, shut up, think, get out, wash again, cold water this time, feels better that way, talk about life, get back in the hot bath, deep breathes, relax, dunk fully, and be reborn. The Ofuro was a fabulous was to start Yom Kippur, honestly.

I had a lot of time to think to myself today, about this past year and how I might go about getting my name sealed into the book of life. No solid conclusion was reached, but I feel that anyone, with the right intentions, or any intention at all, can attain any level of spiritual existence through the simple act of thinking about it.

Until next time. Gemar chatima tova l'kulam, may all of your names be sealed in the book of life, Jews and goyim alike, I love and miss you all and am thinking of you constantly.

p.s. Shout-outs start next week, so stay tuned.
p.p.s. Yeah, those carrots are life size and so delicious.

My first day in the Orient(ation)

2007-09-19T22:48:00.000+09:00

Greatings,
Today was my first full day as an incoming student at Ritsumeikan Daigaku (University). My day started prematurely, because my sleep was a bit thrown off by an unintentionally long nap that lasted from 5pm on Tuesday to 4am on Wednesday. I ended up getting a fine sleep and waking up just in time to join a crew of international students on their way to the Kinugasa Campus of Ritsumeikan, my campus.
The bus ride is super easy and only 220-yen (roughly 2 big, beautiful American dollars). I arrived on campus at the foot of the hills and mountains of northern Kyoto; the campus is surrounded by these low rolling and lush hills. We were quickly ushered into a classroom in the International Relations building and proceeded to take the Japanese placement exam. 3 hours of reading, writing, and listening skills; I was exhausted after the exam. We were treated to a great lunch in the cafeteria, which only solidified my belief that I will be fine eating Japanese food all year long.
After a much need snack orientation began. You know I just love it when well qualified teachers and advisors hand out detailed and concise infromation packets and then choose to read them right back to you . . . I love that shit . . . LOVE IT!!! So, three hours later we met our SKP (Study in Kyoto Programme) Buddies. My buddy's name is Asuka-san, she is very nice, very cute, and very not that good at speaking English. Asuka-san took our group, #10 reppin' it hard, on a tour of the campus. Compared to UBC Rits is small, but it's the TITS. Everybuilding is spick and span, seriously, mad flat screens. HOWEVER, I cannot fit into any of the desks . . truth. More importantly, on our tour we ran into the one . . . the only . . . jump rope group de Ritsumeikan. These guys blasted their boom box in front of the gym and put on this jump-rope-break-dance-smashin'-ass-cute-chicks-fly-guys-cooler-moves-than-ever-with-a-jump-rope act that i have ever seen.
After the tour Azusa-san, a Japanese student living in my dorm, took a few of us gaijin (foreigners, NOT white devils, ZACH) to a bike store. So, bikes in Japan are stupid cheap. I got a fresh fly hoopty for 6000-yen (around 60 juicy USD's), oh and that shit has a basket on the front. It feels great to fly down the left side of the road, leftside, got to remember that.
When it came time for dinner, Julia (from Denmark) and Frederica (from Germany) and I took a really nice bike ride into town to visit the 100-yen store to get some essentials: udon noodles, soba noodels, cup of noodles (but fire Japanese style), and little bananas.
I found a full caligraphy set in the lobby of my dorm, it must have been left by someone from last term. There's also so much other stuff in the lobby, i think it's a regular thing, you know Japanese lobby droppings and what not.
OK, my blogs will not be this long in the future, it's just I REALLY needed an outlet for all the stimuli I was exposed to today.
Much love to all. You can look forward to bi-weekly shout-outs, that is, once I start to go loopy from all of the fucking noodles crowing my living space.

Greetings From Kyoto

2007-09-18T12:45:00.000+09:00

Hello family, friends, and international bloggers alike (yeah Zach).
I have just moved into my dormitory, Ritsumeikan International House II and everything looks great. The two house managers, Mr. and Mrs. Fuji-san are were very welcoming upon my arrival and Mrs. Fuji-san even gave me a grand tour of the building. Our house seems very well equiped, with showers, a Japanese ofuro (bath house style), computer lab, lounge, laundry, and of course little mailboxes in the front where you put your shoes as you enter the house. I'm in a single room with a great view of a little bamboo forest and it is surprisingly hot; all of the rooms have super futureistic air conditioning systems.
The highlight of my travels so far was probably the connecting domestic flight from Tokyo to Osaka. I flew on ANA airlines in coach and I felt like a VIP. All of the seats reclined fully and for once in my life as a seasoned traveler I had adequate legroom, so much so that I could streatch, you know like any normal person should be able to do on a plane. As the plane took off I noticed the beatiful sunset out the window to my right. The image I saw was breath taking: the full color spectrum of the sunet over the greater Tokyo area was the back drop to the sharpest silhouette of the prominent and imfamous Mt. Fuji.
I'm sixteen hours in the future, so everything you read from now on will be the freshest. Until next time family and friends.
Sayonara.