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Saturday, September 30, 2006
Friday, September 29, 2006
The Holy Grail of Gaijin
A Japanese Driver's license is something that is not simply given away. No no my friend, it is earned!
My university comrade T-Bill, who makes his home in the prefecture of Fukushima, finally secured his Japanese Driver's License (JDL). You can read more about it here . Apparently it was quite the ordeal for him, seeing as he had to take the driving examination 5 times and had numerous other blockades put in his way in his effort to possess the Holy Grail of all resident gaijin.
I happened to be a little bit more prepared (or lucky), seeing as I passed the test on my first go-round. I have never transcribed about getting a JDL before, so I think it might be a good thing to educate the younger and future generations of JET's on this at time frustrating, but ultimately painless process.
(A side note though, only Americans must endure this process. Other nationalities get a free pass and must only present their foreign license to behold the splendor of a JDL.)
My university comrade T-Bill, who makes his home in the prefecture of Fukushima, finally secured his Japanese Driver's License (JDL). You can read more about it here . Apparently it was quite the ordeal for him, seeing as he had to take the driving examination 5 times and had numerous other blockades put in his way in his effort to possess the Holy Grail of all resident gaijin.
I happened to be a little bit more prepared (or lucky), seeing as I passed the test on my first go-round. I have never transcribed about getting a JDL before, so I think it might be a good thing to educate the younger and future generations of JET's on this at time frustrating, but ultimately painless process.
(A side note though, only Americans must endure this process. Other nationalities get a free pass and must only present their foreign license to behold the splendor of a JDL.)
Step 1: License Translation
Before one may dare set foot into the hallowed halls of the memko, one must have license translated by the JAF office located with your prefecture. There is one in every prefecture, here in Iwate, it's in Morioka. Two Jumbo copies (200%) of your license must be made and 500 yen be paid, and sent off in a genkin kome (cash envelope) to the local JAF office. I would pay an extra 1,000 yen and have them send you an English copy of "Rules of the Road", a nice read and a good refresher. The pictures are the best part. It's like watching a cartoon with the talking Chevron cars who want Techron.
Step 2: Driving History Interview
In order to determine your competence for driving in their country, the Japanese require Americans to endure an interview by a grossly overweight, chain smoking curmudgeon who has nothing better to do than to make your life miserable. At this juncture, I would recommend you take a native speaker with you, preferably a CIR because they know the cultural translations too, and sit there on a ratty, smelly, fake leather, old couch, in a smoke filled office, as the curmudgeon asks you ridiculous questions you can never remember like, "How many questions were on your written driving test in (insert state here)?" Personally, I think the more questions you tell them you had...The better. When they asked me when I started driving, I told them I was eight, but he didn't believe me, so I whipped out a picture of me driving my gramma's pick-up when I was 8 years old. That shut him up! They'll ask you about your driving history and you should tell them about every time you went to defensive driving school...Just not why! After he's finished interrogating you, 99.99% of the time, he will "recommend" that you take driving lessons. "Recommendation" pretty much means you have to do it.
Step 3: The Driving Lesson & Course
This is by far the most frustrating part of the entire process because you have to learn to drive "the Japanese way" because the Japanese think everything is so bloody different on this bloody archipelago. I have one word for anyone undertaking this ordeal...CHECKS! The Japanese are obsessed with safety checking, thought it serves no purpose in the real world. I had to 5 to 10 separate safety checks before I could even start the bloody car! After doing baby and traffic checks before even getting INTO the blood car, I had to check all my mirrors, the parking brake, and the gear column before starting it. I had then had to do the 5 mirror checks again before being able to put the car into gear and driving off. Redundancy reigns supreme here folks! After doing the umpteenth hundred mirror check, you are finally allowed to leave the safety of the yellow poles. On the straight away, one must excellerate to 50km/hr and slow down in to 15km/hr all in the space it takes to park a semi truck. No touching of the break or accelorator is allowed while gliding coasting around the bend. More turns and ridiculous checks are involved until one finally completes the circuit and returns to the safety of the yellow poles, where one must get park the car with in 30cm of a given or being given a failing grade. Each lesson costs 5,500 yen and I took two lessons. A fair investment considering my test results.
Step 4: The Driving Test
Yay! it's finally test day. Get there early so you can take eye, nose, and breath tests. I'm surprised I wasn't issued a field sobriety test on the spot. I had to take a written a test, just to make sure I knew whether I should stop or go on a blue (yes blue!) light. The written test only 10 questions (that's why I said more the better) and they're emphatically easy. After taking the test, one must wait to find out if you passed the test, as if you wouldn't know already! If you pass the written test, which you should (and if you don't never admit it to anyone) you have to wait in the waiting room for driver's tests. When my name was called, there was the old, fat, chainsmoking curmudgeon as my driving tester. After checking to make sure they're aren't any conspiciously placed rubber babies underneath the car. Open the door 3cm and check for imaginary traffic, then get in the car. Remember....CHECKS!!! Do the course in silence, because your miserly old tester doesn't speak any english and isn't interested in speaking any. He just wants to fail you. I did my test, doing all my checks when I was supposed to do them (even few when he wasn't looking) and pray for the best. Luckily, I passed on the first time. A badge of honor I can wear around Iwate and Japan for that matter. Not too many people pass on their first time.
Thursday, September 28, 2006
The Latest Japanese Craze
I was poking around on google the other day and found this article. Don't ask me how, because I will never tell you, but I thought you all might find this interesting.
Japan's air sex world champion licks himself into shape
Japan has recently claimed the world air guitar championship, but Weekly Playboy (10/2) notes that less well known is that Japan already had a world champ in another virtual sport -- air sex!
Just like air guitar pits competitors prancing around on stage empty handed but acting as though they were playing a hot riff, air sex requires players to simulate sauciness as though with a partner, but actually while alone.
"Air sex was originally invented by guys who couldn't get girlfriends, but desperately want to have sex," J-Taro Sugisaku, the self-professed creator of air sex, tells Weekly Playboy.
Sugimura tells the weekly that air sex began when a mostly male group gathered at a theater in the trendy Tokyo district of Shimo Kitazawa earlier this year. They began talking about sex techniques, then started demonstrating them. Soon, a competition developed to come up with the most outrageous display of faked fornication.
"You must be warned, though... air sex can be very dangerous," Sugisaku says. "Normally what happens with a display is that you perform the same way you normally would when having sex. I've seen guys who put on air sex shows that clearly display they're still virgins. I've also seen other guys perform such incredibly authentic fake fellatio that nobody has been left in any doubt that they could only be bisexual. Let me reiterate: Air sex can be dangerous."
Japan's reigning air sex world champion is a fella who goes by the name of Cobra. His theory for successful air sex is that it involves more than just blowing.
"On the day that I reached the top, the day I became world champion, I was thinking of my girlfriend. No, my ex-girlfriend. She'd just dumped me two days before the contest," Cobra tells Weekly Playboy. "The air sex display I put on that day was, in my mind at least, supposed to be the farewell fling I really wanted to have with my girlfriend. It was the best possible condition I could have been in going into the competition."
Cobra then proceeds to put on an 8 1/2-minute display of air sex for the weekly, with moves including ear nibbling, sphincter licking, attaching a condom while kissing, ejaculation and afterglow. Cobra says that the knack of bogus bonking lies in openness.
"You can't care about what women watching your performance are thinking about you. When you get down to air sex, you've got to immerse yourself in the air sex world," Cobra says. "Air sex can't be performed in half-measures. If it is, you're only asking for trouble."
Air sexpert Sugisaku agrees.
"If you get nervous, air sex is impossible," he tells Weekly Playboy. "A good start is understanding your own sexual habits and going on from there." (By Ryann Connell)
Japan's air sex world champion licks himself into shape
Japan has recently claimed the world air guitar championship, but Weekly Playboy (10/2) notes that less well known is that Japan already had a world champ in another virtual sport -- air sex!
Just like air guitar pits competitors prancing around on stage empty handed but acting as though they were playing a hot riff, air sex requires players to simulate sauciness as though with a partner, but actually while alone.
"Air sex was originally invented by guys who couldn't get girlfriends, but desperately want to have sex," J-Taro Sugisaku, the self-professed creator of air sex, tells Weekly Playboy.
Sugimura tells the weekly that air sex began when a mostly male group gathered at a theater in the trendy Tokyo district of Shimo Kitazawa earlier this year. They began talking about sex techniques, then started demonstrating them. Soon, a competition developed to come up with the most outrageous display of faked fornication.
"You must be warned, though... air sex can be very dangerous," Sugisaku says. "Normally what happens with a display is that you perform the same way you normally would when having sex. I've seen guys who put on air sex shows that clearly display they're still virgins. I've also seen other guys perform such incredibly authentic fake fellatio that nobody has been left in any doubt that they could only be bisexual. Let me reiterate: Air sex can be dangerous."
Japan's reigning air sex world champion is a fella who goes by the name of Cobra. His theory for successful air sex is that it involves more than just blowing.
"On the day that I reached the top, the day I became world champion, I was thinking of my girlfriend. No, my ex-girlfriend. She'd just dumped me two days before the contest," Cobra tells Weekly Playboy. "The air sex display I put on that day was, in my mind at least, supposed to be the farewell fling I really wanted to have with my girlfriend. It was the best possible condition I could have been in going into the competition."
Cobra then proceeds to put on an 8 1/2-minute display of air sex for the weekly, with moves including ear nibbling, sphincter licking, attaching a condom while kissing, ejaculation and afterglow. Cobra says that the knack of bogus bonking lies in openness.
"You can't care about what women watching your performance are thinking about you. When you get down to air sex, you've got to immerse yourself in the air sex world," Cobra says. "Air sex can't be performed in half-measures. If it is, you're only asking for trouble."
Air sexpert Sugisaku agrees.
"If you get nervous, air sex is impossible," he tells Weekly Playboy. "A good start is understanding your own sexual habits and going on from there." (By Ryann Connell)
Monday, September 25, 2006
Getting Some Seoul Power
Seeing the need for a short vacation, I decided (back in June) that the 3rd weekend of September would be a wonderful time to visit the land pickled vegetables, also known as kimchi...South Korea! Failing in my efforts to convince any of my fellow comrades to join me in this venture, I was accompanied by the same people who went with me to Australia...Me, Myself, and I!
I arrived in Seoul under the blanket of night.
My Korean contact had told me that due to my late arrival, I would unable to use the mass transit system out of the airport so he would arrange for one his associates to meet me instead and take me to the rendeavouz point inside the city. All went smoothly as the chauffeur appointed to my care, whisked me out of the airport at a speed more appropriate to a Formula 1 or NASCAR driver. My temporary guide spoke about as much English as I did Korean, which is to say none. So in a sometimes ackward silence, we sped into town. I didn't even have to say "bali bali", which according to several USAF servicemen, meant "hurry up hurry up!" I was then deposited at my place where I would rest my weary bones for the next five nights...Seoul Backpackers. Taking full advantage of the free internet provided, I sent out the obligatory "I'm here safely" email to loved ones, and promptly passed out on my bed from exhaustion from the day' trevails.
I awoke early the next morning, before the stirring of anybody else, thankful to be in a country where the sun doesn't come up at an ungodly hour like it does here in J-Land. After trying to orient myself to the city and my current location, I masticated on a breakfast of toast, butter, jam, and a Korean mishmash of tuna, macaroni, and assorted veggies. All lovingly provided free of charge from the hostel staff. After scarfing down the rather plain victuals, I booked my DMZ tour for three moon cycles from then. Not one to waste time, after reserving my space on the DMZ tour, I promptly started pounding the pavement.
My first stop was Changdeokgung (no idea how to prounce that even though they taught us), a palace orginally constructed between 1405 and 1412, which equals old! This "palace" can only be visited on a tour and I had failed to read in my handy dandy guide book that the 1st English tour was not scheduled until 11:30 that morning...Damn it! Seeing as I had 2 and 1/2 hrs to kill before the English tour started, I decided to set in search of more adventures and explore my little area of the city. My next stop was the modest, but still impressive Unhyeongung. This had been home of a tyrant. Some one who closed Confucious schools, massacred Korean Catholics, and excluded foreigners. Talk about being xenophobic! After seeing the the U-palace, I thought I'd meander down the street because I thought I knew where I was. Turned out, yeah I was going in the opposite direction of where I wanted to. In the afternoon, I visited the mother of all palaces...Gyeonbokgung. The grandest palace was in Seoul was most impressive and I even was lucky enough to catch the Changing of the Guard ceremony. I moseyed around, snapping pictures and soaking in the ambiance of the place. I even made a pilgrimage to the spot where the Empress of South Korea was assisinated by Japanese assasins. Kind of eerie! My first day in Seoul ended as my curiosity got the better of me and I trekked into the neighborhood of Itaewon, a.k.a. Mini America, so called because of its proximity to the AF base in Seoul. In Itaewon, I tried my first taste of Korean street fair, which was so hot and spicy that it almost burned the skin off my lips and I found myself running to find the nearest shop which sould Fanta. I would return to Itaewon later in my trip, for a belt-busting calorie barrage at the Outback Steakhouse, one of many in Seoul, but for now I just wanted to get out of there.
Days 2 and 3 were simply spent using the modern subway system to get around town and visiting various sites. I paid my respects to Korean war dead at the War Memorial, which has the largest collection of old U.S. planes this side of the Pacific Ocean and is second over all after the Davis-Monthan bone yard in Tucson, AZ. I visited a prison built and used by the Japanese to house, torture, and execute Korean Freedom Fighters during their occupation of the pennisula. Many Koreans still hate the Japanese and I found out how deep this hatred goes, when gorging myself at the Outback Steakhouse, I was watching Japan and N. Korea play a soccer game, and I asked my barmaid which one she would be cheering for and she told me N. Korea!
Day 4 and my final day in Seoul, I visited the Demiliterized Zone, or DMZ for short. My first impression of the place, was that it is anything but demiliterized, but soon you realize that it's just that. The DMZ is a 4km wide buffer zone that runs the lenght of the pennisula. In the middle of the DMZ is the actual border between the two countries, but nobody is allowed in the DMZ, lest they get shot. It's pretty much a "no man's land." The one thing that was stressed to us was that N. Korea and S. Korea are still at war with with each other. They never signed a peace treaty, only a cease-fire agreement, which has held for over 50 years, yet the N. Korean army continues to try infiltrate into S. Korea and S. Korea is too much of pussy to actually fight and put a stop to it. American and S. Korean militaries, have discovered 4 infiltration tunnels, and they believe there are around 20. An intersting piece of N. Korean propoganda is a "city" built right on the border that nobody lives in. It's just there!
Overall I enjoyed my time in Seoul. I'd like to go back to S. Korea and see more of it. It's a great country and I think everyone should visit it atleast once.
I arrived in Seoul under the blanket of night.
My Korean contact had told me that due to my late arrival, I would unable to use the mass transit system out of the airport so he would arrange for one his associates to meet me instead and take me to the rendeavouz point inside the city. All went smoothly as the chauffeur appointed to my care, whisked me out of the airport at a speed more appropriate to a Formula 1 or NASCAR driver. My temporary guide spoke about as much English as I did Korean, which is to say none. So in a sometimes ackward silence, we sped into town. I didn't even have to say "bali bali", which according to several USAF servicemen, meant "hurry up hurry up!" I was then deposited at my place where I would rest my weary bones for the next five nights...Seoul Backpackers. Taking full advantage of the free internet provided, I sent out the obligatory "I'm here safely" email to loved ones, and promptly passed out on my bed from exhaustion from the day' trevails.
I awoke early the next morning, before the stirring of anybody else, thankful to be in a country where the sun doesn't come up at an ungodly hour like it does here in J-Land. After trying to orient myself to the city and my current location, I masticated on a breakfast of toast, butter, jam, and a Korean mishmash of tuna, macaroni, and assorted veggies. All lovingly provided free of charge from the hostel staff. After scarfing down the rather plain victuals, I booked my DMZ tour for three moon cycles from then. Not one to waste time, after reserving my space on the DMZ tour, I promptly started pounding the pavement.
My first stop was Changdeokgung (no idea how to prounce that even though they taught us), a palace orginally constructed between 1405 and 1412, which equals old! This "palace" can only be visited on a tour and I had failed to read in my handy dandy guide book that the 1st English tour was not scheduled until 11:30 that morning...Damn it! Seeing as I had 2 and 1/2 hrs to kill before the English tour started, I decided to set in search of more adventures and explore my little area of the city. My next stop was the modest, but still impressive Unhyeongung. This had been home of a tyrant. Some one who closed Confucious schools, massacred Korean Catholics, and excluded foreigners. Talk about being xenophobic! After seeing the the U-palace, I thought I'd meander down the street because I thought I knew where I was. Turned out, yeah I was going in the opposite direction of where I wanted to. In the afternoon, I visited the mother of all palaces...Gyeonbokgung. The grandest palace was in Seoul was most impressive and I even was lucky enough to catch the Changing of the Guard ceremony. I moseyed around, snapping pictures and soaking in the ambiance of the place. I even made a pilgrimage to the spot where the Empress of South Korea was assisinated by Japanese assasins. Kind of eerie! My first day in Seoul ended as my curiosity got the better of me and I trekked into the neighborhood of Itaewon, a.k.a. Mini America, so called because of its proximity to the AF base in Seoul. In Itaewon, I tried my first taste of Korean street fair, which was so hot and spicy that it almost burned the skin off my lips and I found myself running to find the nearest shop which sould Fanta. I would return to Itaewon later in my trip, for a belt-busting calorie barrage at the Outback Steakhouse, one of many in Seoul, but for now I just wanted to get out of there.
Days 2 and 3 were simply spent using the modern subway system to get around town and visiting various sites. I paid my respects to Korean war dead at the War Memorial, which has the largest collection of old U.S. planes this side of the Pacific Ocean and is second over all after the Davis-Monthan bone yard in Tucson, AZ. I visited a prison built and used by the Japanese to house, torture, and execute Korean Freedom Fighters during their occupation of the pennisula. Many Koreans still hate the Japanese and I found out how deep this hatred goes, when gorging myself at the Outback Steakhouse, I was watching Japan and N. Korea play a soccer game, and I asked my barmaid which one she would be cheering for and she told me N. Korea!
Day 4 and my final day in Seoul, I visited the Demiliterized Zone, or DMZ for short. My first impression of the place, was that it is anything but demiliterized, but soon you realize that it's just that. The DMZ is a 4km wide buffer zone that runs the lenght of the pennisula. In the middle of the DMZ is the actual border between the two countries, but nobody is allowed in the DMZ, lest they get shot. It's pretty much a "no man's land." The one thing that was stressed to us was that N. Korea and S. Korea are still at war with with each other. They never signed a peace treaty, only a cease-fire agreement, which has held for over 50 years, yet the N. Korean army continues to try infiltrate into S. Korea and S. Korea is too much of pussy to actually fight and put a stop to it. American and S. Korean militaries, have discovered 4 infiltration tunnels, and they believe there are around 20. An intersting piece of N. Korean propoganda is a "city" built right on the border that nobody lives in. It's just there!
Overall I enjoyed my time in Seoul. I'd like to go back to S. Korea and see more of it. It's a great country and I think everyone should visit it atleast once.
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Epiphanies and Bad English...Cheers!
I was on my way to Morioka last night for my weekly Japanese lesson with my tutor when I had a revelation. I don't know why I am having it now, I should have had it some time ago, but I have had it and that's the important thing. I recently realized why Japanese high school students always stand when riding the train, even when there are bloody seats available! It's because in the social order of things, they rank on the lowest level of the seat hogging hierarchy.
Here is my hypothesis:
Japan, being the country of manners and politeness, has a social hierarchy for everything, including a pecking order for who may sit and who must stand while riding on trains. At the bottom of this pecking order are high school students. This group of cretins ranks at the bottom because they are the youngest and most numerous group of people who ride the rails on a consistent basis as a form of transportation to and from their homes, schools, and club activity locations. If such a group were to use the seat space on a train, there would be no room for the half-dead and bent-over-from-too much- rice field working obasans or drunken salary men to sit down.
Continuing on about the manners of this country, which are extremely good by the way. On the train going to Morioka yesterday afternoon, there was a young couple sitting across from me, catching a snooze, like so many people in this country do on the train. The head of the young woman was leaning woefully to her left and was practially resting on the shoulder on the old woman sitting next to her. This old woman, who looked like Protestantism has sprung from her womb, was too polite to wake the young woman up to tell her to get her head off of her shoulder! I was laughing on the inside. I wanted to take picture, but figured it wouldn't be "reasonable and prudent."
I have some more Bad English for you all who read this blog. It's from my students' latest batch of essays that I just finished grading about an hour ago. The theme was "My Favorite Cartoon Character."
1.) "She was so ironside." I wondered if the student was talking about the colonial battleship, U.S.S. Constitution, commonly called "Old Ironsides."
2.) "Gheer up! Gheer up!" How do you even pronounce that?
3.) "pairs the battery"- even I couldn't figure out what this student meant and my deciphering skills have gotten much better.
4.) "We must hump that cross" Only a minor switch is needed, but it's still funny.
5.) "Pokemon" is translated from Japanese into English as "Pocket Monster" which by itself isn't bad, but one student wrote at the end of their essay, "I want to have a pet pocket monster that my entire family can fondle." I almost burst out laughing when I read that.
Here is my hypothesis:
Japan, being the country of manners and politeness, has a social hierarchy for everything, including a pecking order for who may sit and who must stand while riding on trains. At the bottom of this pecking order are high school students. This group of cretins ranks at the bottom because they are the youngest and most numerous group of people who ride the rails on a consistent basis as a form of transportation to and from their homes, schools, and club activity locations. If such a group were to use the seat space on a train, there would be no room for the half-dead and bent-over-from-too much- rice field working obasans or drunken salary men to sit down.
Continuing on about the manners of this country, which are extremely good by the way. On the train going to Morioka yesterday afternoon, there was a young couple sitting across from me, catching a snooze, like so many people in this country do on the train. The head of the young woman was leaning woefully to her left and was practially resting on the shoulder on the old woman sitting next to her. This old woman, who looked like Protestantism has sprung from her womb, was too polite to wake the young woman up to tell her to get her head off of her shoulder! I was laughing on the inside. I wanted to take picture, but figured it wouldn't be "reasonable and prudent."
I have some more Bad English for you all who read this blog. It's from my students' latest batch of essays that I just finished grading about an hour ago. The theme was "My Favorite Cartoon Character."
1.) "She was so ironside." I wondered if the student was talking about the colonial battleship, U.S.S. Constitution, commonly called "Old Ironsides."
2.) "Gheer up! Gheer up!" How do you even pronounce that?
3.) "pairs the battery"- even I couldn't figure out what this student meant and my deciphering skills have gotten much better.
4.) "We must hump that cross" Only a minor switch is needed, but it's still funny.
5.) "Pokemon" is translated from Japanese into English as "Pocket Monster" which by itself isn't bad, but one student wrote at the end of their essay, "I want to have a pet pocket monster that my entire family can fondle." I almost burst out laughing when I read that.
Sunday, September 10, 2006
Washoi! Washoi!
The Japanese word "matsuri" means festival and it is 1 of the 2 words (the other is "konnichi wa") my friend Domn8or knows. This weekend, the downtown streets of Hanamaki were filled with the sounds of merriment, the aroma of festival foods such as yakitori and yakisoba , and the jeers of intoxicated revelers all joining together to celebrate in mass that which I have still have not figured out. The Hanamaki matsuri takes place over the course of three days and is part County Fair, part Mardi Gras, part religious revival, and all fun!
On Friday afternoon, I absconded from my desk as soon as possible and made a brief stop at the nearest Family Mart convenience store. I procured for myself six aluminum cylindrical containers of the intoxicating beverage known as Chu-Hi and returned to my humble abode where I began a pre-party with myself and a package of bottle rockets. By the time Meow returned home at 1700 hours, I was already down 2 cans of Chu-Hi, fresh out of bottle rockets, and feeling good.
At 1730, we departed ourselves for the matsuri and the deluge of merriment that awaited us. When we arrived at the station, we thought it prudent to park our two-wheeled peddlers at the station and mosey on down the rest of the way. Nearing the venue we could hear the chants from the children's mikoshi parade. We spotted J-Cup, and her teammates all dressed in black, hamming it up and preparing to lug the heavy mikoshi down the street. Such an action should never place unless one is tanked full of beer and that's exactly what was happening there. J-Cup informed us that Machine and Captain Crankypants were also carrying that night so keep an eye out for them, but to our disappointment, during the parade we saw neither J-Cup, nor Machine, nor Captain Crankypants.
During the course of the mikoshi parade, we did receive some free souvenirs. Because of my gusto and exhumberance to returning the cheers of "washoi!" from other mikoshi teams, I was given a free cup of sake (which I had to chug) and necklaces from 2 separate teams. Meow also received the same neck acutrements. Twice, I was grabbed by mikoshi-carrying teams to join them and help carry the mikoshi down the street, both times I joined, but only for about 5 feet because I was safe in the knowledge that I was going to be doing that the next evening and wanted to save my strength. I showed Meow around the downtown streets of Hanamaki, I saw quite a few of my students, and I found my team and said hello. I was suckered into an informal sumo match (which I won!) and had Yuji, the team leader, jump on me like an Ethiopian on a Big Mac, except he wasn't wearing any pants!!!
After the parades were over, Meow, J-Cup, and I met up with some other ALT's at a bar closer to the station. They were in transition and were waiting for someone. After having a round of drinks (or 2), we all headed back to the bar district. J-Cup and I, while happy to be out, really weren't up for a night out with drunken foreigners, especially in our city. So we headed to a more local bar that we both knew, but it was closed, so we decided to patronize the one right next to it. We stayed for several hours, sang 3 rounds John Denver's tribute to homesickness, "Country Roads" with modified lyrics, on the karaoke machine. I did a tear-jerking rendition of Extreme's "More Than Words" and killed my voice doing the screaming on Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit". We tried singing easy English songs for a Japanese friends, like "Row Row Row Your Boat" and "When Johnny Comes Marching Home", but mostly we just hung out with the locals in the small bar. Feeling drowsy and in need of some rest and respite, I departed myself at 0230 and was given a lift home by my friend Natsumi who I had convinced to make it out with us. She brought me back to my apartment and I loaned her some English movies to play on her computer. I finally joined the land of the temporarilly dead around 0300.
Saturday was the fun day. After sleeping in until 1030hrs and picking up my friend T-Bill at the station, Daddaluma, J-Cup, Koz, T-Bill, and I joined our mikoshi team at the temple rendevouz point. On the way to the temple, we were dressed in all white and I found myself feeling as though I was either a Muslim on a pilgrimage to Mecca, or a Pentacostal, going down to the river to wash away my sins. I even found myself singing a few bars of Allison Krause's "Down to the River to Pray"
"As I went down in the river to pray, studying about that good ol' way and who shall wear, the starry crown, good Lord show me the way."
At the temple, we "prepared" to the carry the mikoshi, and by "prepared", I mean we started drinking. Yes, we got dressed in the over jacket known as a "happi", but we mostly drank in preparation of the 2 1/2 hours we would bearing the weight of the mikoshi and the deity residing inside. Apparently, the gods were not smiling on us that day because the generator which lit the mikoshi kept dieing on us and as we marched down the street, chanting "washoi", our mikoshi was the only one not lit up. For Daddaluma and I, but more for me, carrying a mikoshi is not fun because we are much taller than average Japanese person. Even if I am at the highest bar on the mikoshi, I am still bent over while carrying the weight on the back of neck. I can't look up and I can't see where I'm going. I soon tired of this monotany and marched behind the mikoshi, while still cheering and supporting our team.
The after party was the highlight of the night and the only real reason why I wanted to carry a mikoshi again this year. It was out of control! and T-Bill had the time of his life. Both of us took enough incriminating photos of each other to ensure that neither of will be running for any political office in the near future. J-Cup used her attraction to Japanese men to make out with as many drunk guys as she could and her mammory glands ended up being the main attraction of the night as there seemed to be an informal contest to see who could clutch her teats the most number of times. There wasn't as much nakedness by team this year, but it was every bit as crazy, and Daddaluma and I tried in vain to sing "Livin' La Vida Loca" and get somebody up on the bar to light his pubic hairs on fire.
By Sunday, I was wiped out and could no longer muster any energy to get myself down to the matsuri, but I did, just in time to see some of the Shishi Odori dancers perform before a thunderstorm beat them into submission.
The story behind the Shishi Odori (Deer Dance) is a rather interesting one and is based on a legend in the Iwate story. "Iwate" means "Demons Hands" and in Morioka, there is a rock, where according to legend, a demon left his hand prints. You see, he was chained to rock after being captured by the local people and they wanted him to leave, so they performed Shishi Odori (Deer Dance) and he left, but before he left, he left his hand prints in the rock. So the people of Iwate perform Shishi Odori to commemorate this occurance and to keep the demon from coming back.
On Friday afternoon, I absconded from my desk as soon as possible and made a brief stop at the nearest Family Mart convenience store. I procured for myself six aluminum cylindrical containers of the intoxicating beverage known as Chu-Hi and returned to my humble abode where I began a pre-party with myself and a package of bottle rockets. By the time Meow returned home at 1700 hours, I was already down 2 cans of Chu-Hi, fresh out of bottle rockets, and feeling good.
At 1730, we departed ourselves for the matsuri and the deluge of merriment that awaited us. When we arrived at the station, we thought it prudent to park our two-wheeled peddlers at the station and mosey on down the rest of the way. Nearing the venue we could hear the chants from the children's mikoshi parade. We spotted J-Cup, and her teammates all dressed in black, hamming it up and preparing to lug the heavy mikoshi down the street. Such an action should never place unless one is tanked full of beer and that's exactly what was happening there. J-Cup informed us that Machine and Captain Crankypants were also carrying that night so keep an eye out for them, but to our disappointment, during the parade we saw neither J-Cup, nor Machine, nor Captain Crankypants.
During the course of the mikoshi parade, we did receive some free souvenirs. Because of my gusto and exhumberance to returning the cheers of "washoi!" from other mikoshi teams, I was given a free cup of sake (which I had to chug) and necklaces from 2 separate teams. Meow also received the same neck acutrements. Twice, I was grabbed by mikoshi-carrying teams to join them and help carry the mikoshi down the street, both times I joined, but only for about 5 feet because I was safe in the knowledge that I was going to be doing that the next evening and wanted to save my strength. I showed Meow around the downtown streets of Hanamaki, I saw quite a few of my students, and I found my team and said hello. I was suckered into an informal sumo match (which I won!) and had Yuji, the team leader, jump on me like an Ethiopian on a Big Mac, except he wasn't wearing any pants!!!
After the parades were over, Meow, J-Cup, and I met up with some other ALT's at a bar closer to the station. They were in transition and were waiting for someone. After having a round of drinks (or 2), we all headed back to the bar district. J-Cup and I, while happy to be out, really weren't up for a night out with drunken foreigners, especially in our city. So we headed to a more local bar that we both knew, but it was closed, so we decided to patronize the one right next to it. We stayed for several hours, sang 3 rounds John Denver's tribute to homesickness, "Country Roads" with modified lyrics, on the karaoke machine. I did a tear-jerking rendition of Extreme's "More Than Words" and killed my voice doing the screaming on Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit". We tried singing easy English songs for a Japanese friends, like "Row Row Row Your Boat" and "When Johnny Comes Marching Home", but mostly we just hung out with the locals in the small bar. Feeling drowsy and in need of some rest and respite, I departed myself at 0230 and was given a lift home by my friend Natsumi who I had convinced to make it out with us. She brought me back to my apartment and I loaned her some English movies to play on her computer. I finally joined the land of the temporarilly dead around 0300.
Saturday was the fun day. After sleeping in until 1030hrs and picking up my friend T-Bill at the station, Daddaluma, J-Cup, Koz, T-Bill, and I joined our mikoshi team at the temple rendevouz point. On the way to the temple, we were dressed in all white and I found myself feeling as though I was either a Muslim on a pilgrimage to Mecca, or a Pentacostal, going down to the river to wash away my sins. I even found myself singing a few bars of Allison Krause's "Down to the River to Pray"
"As I went down in the river to pray, studying about that good ol' way and who shall wear, the starry crown, good Lord show me the way."
At the temple, we "prepared" to the carry the mikoshi, and by "prepared", I mean we started drinking. Yes, we got dressed in the over jacket known as a "happi", but we mostly drank in preparation of the 2 1/2 hours we would bearing the weight of the mikoshi and the deity residing inside. Apparently, the gods were not smiling on us that day because the generator which lit the mikoshi kept dieing on us and as we marched down the street, chanting "washoi", our mikoshi was the only one not lit up. For Daddaluma and I, but more for me, carrying a mikoshi is not fun because we are much taller than average Japanese person. Even if I am at the highest bar on the mikoshi, I am still bent over while carrying the weight on the back of neck. I can't look up and I can't see where I'm going. I soon tired of this monotany and marched behind the mikoshi, while still cheering and supporting our team.
The after party was the highlight of the night and the only real reason why I wanted to carry a mikoshi again this year. It was out of control! and T-Bill had the time of his life. Both of us took enough incriminating photos of each other to ensure that neither of will be running for any political office in the near future. J-Cup used her attraction to Japanese men to make out with as many drunk guys as she could and her mammory glands ended up being the main attraction of the night as there seemed to be an informal contest to see who could clutch her teats the most number of times. There wasn't as much nakedness by team this year, but it was every bit as crazy, and Daddaluma and I tried in vain to sing "Livin' La Vida Loca" and get somebody up on the bar to light his pubic hairs on fire.
By Sunday, I was wiped out and could no longer muster any energy to get myself down to the matsuri, but I did, just in time to see some of the Shishi Odori dancers perform before a thunderstorm beat them into submission.
The story behind the Shishi Odori (Deer Dance) is a rather interesting one and is based on a legend in the Iwate story. "Iwate" means "Demons Hands" and in Morioka, there is a rock, where according to legend, a demon left his hand prints. You see, he was chained to rock after being captured by the local people and they wanted him to leave, so they performed Shishi Odori (Deer Dance) and he left, but before he left, he left his hand prints in the rock. So the people of Iwate perform Shishi Odori to commemorate this occurance and to keep the demon from coming back.
Thursday, September 07, 2006
R.I.P, More Bad English, Impossible sobriety
The Crocodile Hunter died this week, and ironically enough, he wasn't killed by a croc, but by a stingray, one the most docile creature in the entire bloody ocean! It's hard to know how to feel about it too because I know I should feel sadness, grief, or something else, especially when I flip on the telly to CNN or scour the Information Super Highway for news, his story is all over the place. The world lost a great animal lover and convervationist in Steve Irwin. He will be missed. Last night, I was playing around with the talking toy of his that my sister gave to me as a souvenir from her travels down there "Have a look at this little beauty!" and "Isn't she just darling?", and it started to sink in. In college, my fraternity brother Damon and I used to watch his "Crocodile Hunter" show and often debated how much it would truly suck if he was eaten by a croc during filming. I guess in some sort morbid way, we were prophetic.
Been grading homework essays again this week, my second and last of the term. This week's topic is "My Favorite Cartoon Character". Several of my students have written about how "Pokemon" is their favorite cartoon, only if you translate "Pokemon" into English, it literally means "Pocket Monster", which to me sounds like a rather wanton meaning. One student wrote about "Pikachu" and how he/she/it was their favorite character on the show and wanted a pet like Pikachu that whole family could "fondle" in evening at home. After quelling my laughter, I quickly realized that it was the first time the words "pocket monster" and "fondle" were in same sentence and some carnal conjunction was not intended.
I have come to the realization recently that complete and total sobriety is utterly impossible in this country. I have curbed by drinking, make no mistake about that, but every time I think I can get off the sauce for an extended period of time, and by extended I mean more than 1 week, another party, festival, or other excuse to consume libations rolls around. Plus, inebriation helps ease communication with the locals and helps one escape from the daily nonsense of life in Japan. I think I am going to have to wait until a full-time return to the U.S. to persue complete sobriety once again.
Been grading homework essays again this week, my second and last of the term. This week's topic is "My Favorite Cartoon Character". Several of my students have written about how "Pokemon" is their favorite cartoon, only if you translate "Pokemon" into English, it literally means "Pocket Monster", which to me sounds like a rather wanton meaning. One student wrote about "Pikachu" and how he/she/it was their favorite character on the show and wanted a pet like Pikachu that whole family could "fondle" in evening at home. After quelling my laughter, I quickly realized that it was the first time the words "pocket monster" and "fondle" were in same sentence and some carnal conjunction was not intended.
I have come to the realization recently that complete and total sobriety is utterly impossible in this country. I have curbed by drinking, make no mistake about that, but every time I think I can get off the sauce for an extended period of time, and by extended I mean more than 1 week, another party, festival, or other excuse to consume libations rolls around. Plus, inebriation helps ease communication with the locals and helps one escape from the daily nonsense of life in Japan. I think I am going to have to wait until a full-time return to the U.S. to persue complete sobriety once again.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
What Kind of Pocky Are You?
My friend Mel-bot has this on her LJ so I took it and thought I'd post it here to make my blog more fun. Pocky is a snack over here in Japan. It's chocolate on a pretzel stick...kind of gross really. Nevertheless, there are different flavors and you can take this quiz to find out what you are!
Have Fun!
| You Are Strawberry Pocky |
What Flavor Pocky Are You?
Have Fun!
Sunday, September 03, 2006
Fall Bash
For me, the school festival at Hanamaki Kita high school unofficially marks the passing of time of one year to the other for me. It was two years ago, that after a booze-filled week in Morioka, I had to return to Hanamaki for my first school festival. Today, marks the end of the third, and for me, the final school festival. It is really quite a production. It is part "Fall Bash" part Open House, and part Student Exhibition all rolled into one. My window in the staff room overlooks a small courtyard, in which the 3rd year classes have food booths to raise money for the student governing council. The sounds of preparation and aroma of these victuals wafting into my open window awaken my tastebuds and draw me outside. On the opposite end of the courtyard, there is parked a stage trailer where student bands (not always good) are given a venu with which to perform their latest compositions or cover songs, Beattles songs being the most popular. In the classrooms in the school, each class exhibits its own game or activity. Popular ones are haunted houses and ping-pong games. This year, not much interested me and I made a vain attempt to appear interested. But the thing that I find truly amazing is the amount of responsibility students at my school take in preparation of taking down of the festival acuterments because we all know American high school students are not worthy of such respect and responsibility.
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