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

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 . . .

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

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 . . .

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.

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' . . .

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

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

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

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?

Where am I?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shout Out:

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

More Beef Please . . .

Good Evening and Good Morning All,

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

Wednesday Evening

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

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

Thursday Evening

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

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

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

Until Next Time Family and Friends.
じゃ、また。

One ticket to Osaka Please . . .

Hello Family, Hello Friends, and all avid readers,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peace.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

SKOSHI, DANSU WO SHINAI?!?!?!

Good Afternoon Western World,

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

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

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

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

Rice-Wined and Dined

Salutations,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until next time all.

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

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

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)

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

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.