It's that lovely time of year when all people on the island of Shikoku (and the rest of Japan) freeze their behinds off. Why? Well, the outside isn't actually super cold but the houses and their lack of insulation make it feel like the arctic. You can actually see your breath when inside. Isn't there something inherently wrong with that?
So, to battle the frigidness, we have heaters. They come in all shapes and sizes. The first is the air conditioner/heater which is usually perched above the doorway. It was great as an air conditioner but as a heater you have to sit in a certain area of the room to get any benefit from it. Then there is what I call a heat lamp. It looks like a fan but doesn't blow and gets hot. Good for short distances but useless for a big room. Then there is also the "kotatsu" which is a table that is heated underneath. You throw a blanket under the lid, stick your legs under and enjoy the ensuing warmth.
I recently found out that the toilet in my house has a heated seat. And while it sounds weird, it's great! The bathroom is as cold as the rest of the house and it's not fun to have to answer nature's call in the middle of a very cold night.
This brings me to the kerosene powered heater. This bad boy has a tank which can be filled with kerosene that can be bought from your local gas station. It's warm but it can smell. There is one in my workplace which gives me a headache if I have it on for more than an hour. Possibly fainting or poisoning myself with toxic fumes is not my idea of an ending so I regulate it's usage by obsessively opening windows and gulping in fresh air or turning it off completely. Unfortunately this polluting machine is the only heater that actually warms up a room.
That said and done, Shikoku hasn't yet reached it's coldest temperatures of the year. So an icicle will write to you in those months.
Thursday, December 22, 2005
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Snow and its repercussions
Yesterday, I woke up, opened the window and saw that the ground was covered with snow. Usually, when I see the first snow of the season, I'm filled with childish glee and delight and have the urge to go and make snowangels. That former delight was thoroughly mixed with despair as the knowledge I couldn't drive to work set in.
I bundled up appropriately for the weather, meaning sweater, fleece, shell, scarf, gloves and toque. Then I ventured outside only to be met with a really heavy snowfall. The 5 minute walk to the station left me nicely coated in the white stuff.
Now, I'm not a huge fan of the train system here. They are infrequent and certain trains have a tendency to interrupt their trip to sit at a station and, well, just sit. For up to what seems like 10 minutes at a time. Why are they sitting? One reason is that there is only one train track. So, occasionally one train must wait until the other coming from the opposite direction has cleared the track. No, messy accidents that way you see. The other reason is solely to tick me off. I've now made it a rule to dehyrdrate myself before getting on the bloody train for fear I'll have to get off to use the bathroom and then wait up to an hour for the next one.
I bundled up appropriately for the weather, meaning sweater, fleece, shell, scarf, gloves and toque. Then I ventured outside only to be met with a really heavy snowfall. The 5 minute walk to the station left me nicely coated in the white stuff.
Now, I'm not a huge fan of the train system here. They are infrequent and certain trains have a tendency to interrupt their trip to sit at a station and, well, just sit. For up to what seems like 10 minutes at a time. Why are they sitting? One reason is that there is only one train track. So, occasionally one train must wait until the other coming from the opposite direction has cleared the track. No, messy accidents that way you see. The other reason is solely to tick me off. I've now made it a rule to dehyrdrate myself before getting on the bloody train for fear I'll have to get off to use the bathroom and then wait up to an hour for the next one.
But I digress. The train ride was its usual thing, once at the station I boarded a bus and arrived at my school's central campus. Only problem, I wasn't working at the central office on this particular day. So, I borrowed a bike from a coworker and realized how very out of shape I am. The 15 minute ride left me tired and sweaty (due to overlayering, and carting around my 10 pound backpack). I taught, sweat my way to returning the bike, got on another bus and train. I now have great respect for my coworkers who have to bike, no matter the weather, to the separate branch offices. I was one tired puppy by the time I got home.
It snowed again this morning. When I now see snow I nearly break down sobbing. But being bound and determined to be lazy (and also having suffered through many a Calgarian winter) I maneuvered our tiny car down the icy hill, onto slushy roads and into greener pastures (the city is inexplicably blue skied and sunny). The car is now reposing in the parking lot, blissfully unaware that it will have to make a return trip into snowland.
And I have to teach soon so I'll stop the bitch fest here. Cheers all.
Monday, December 12, 2005
Slots in Japan
Hi all, today I'm going to write about Japan's 'we aren't really gambling' gambling system. Known to most as Pachinko. Gambling is illegal throughout all of Japan. So, of course, no one gambles. Ever.
When in Osaka with Will and two friends of mine, way back in October, the group of us thought it would be fun to step into a Pachinko parlor. It's not hard to find, every city/town has at least one. In Osaka, they're a dime a dozen. You can find them from their extremely lit up signs declaring either: "Pachinko!" or "Millions!" At night, the signs are almost blinding. It's akin to seeing the bright lights of Vegas but only much more isolated.
Once you step inside one of these parlors you can barely hear anything for the constant sound of balls hitting each other. Pachinko is played, as far as I can tell, by dropping little silver balls into the top (or somehow inserting these things) of the machine and then sitting back and watching them drizzle down through different notches and slots. I think points are accumlated by where the balls hit when they land on the bottom. I wouldn't quote me on that though, since I've never actually played the game. The four of us, wandered around and looked confusedly at the machines and at all the people staring, mesmerized, at their Pachinko machines. On the floor were multiple tubs, sometimes stacked on each other, full of those little silver balls. After a few more moments of looking bewildered, with no one coming to help us waste our money, we left. Our pupils had to readjust to normal lighting once we were back outside.
Pachinko isn't technically gambling because you only receive a ticket or something similar once you're finished for the night (or day). The parlor itself does nothing to reimburse you for your efforts. But, if you go next door to a handy kiosk (which, of course, is in NO way affiliated with the Pachinko parlor), they'll take your ticket and give you something in return. What it is, I don't know, again because I never got to play. Perhaps cash or some prize.
To an outside viewer, Pachinko looks pretty dull. You sit at a machine and stare relentlessly at balls falling through spokes. But then, slot machines aren't much different. You press buttons (or pull the lever) and stare to see if you've managed to randomly match some pictures.
Though really, in either scenario you're pouring your money down the drain.
When in Osaka with Will and two friends of mine, way back in October, the group of us thought it would be fun to step into a Pachinko parlor. It's not hard to find, every city/town has at least one. In Osaka, they're a dime a dozen. You can find them from their extremely lit up signs declaring either: "Pachinko!" or "Millions!" At night, the signs are almost blinding. It's akin to seeing the bright lights of Vegas but only much more isolated.
Once you step inside one of these parlors you can barely hear anything for the constant sound of balls hitting each other. Pachinko is played, as far as I can tell, by dropping little silver balls into the top (or somehow inserting these things) of the machine and then sitting back and watching them drizzle down through different notches and slots. I think points are accumlated by where the balls hit when they land on the bottom. I wouldn't quote me on that though, since I've never actually played the game. The four of us, wandered around and looked confusedly at the machines and at all the people staring, mesmerized, at their Pachinko machines. On the floor were multiple tubs, sometimes stacked on each other, full of those little silver balls. After a few more moments of looking bewildered, with no one coming to help us waste our money, we left. Our pupils had to readjust to normal lighting once we were back outside.
Pachinko isn't technically gambling because you only receive a ticket or something similar once you're finished for the night (or day). The parlor itself does nothing to reimburse you for your efforts. But, if you go next door to a handy kiosk (which, of course, is in NO way affiliated with the Pachinko parlor), they'll take your ticket and give you something in return. What it is, I don't know, again because I never got to play. Perhaps cash or some prize.
To an outside viewer, Pachinko looks pretty dull. You sit at a machine and stare relentlessly at balls falling through spokes. But then, slot machines aren't much different. You press buttons (or pull the lever) and stare to see if you've managed to randomly match some pictures.
Though really, in either scenario you're pouring your money down the drain.
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
Japan in December
Hi all, it's quickly approaching my favorite time of year...Christmas! Being in Asia, the season is a bit less festive than in North America. Okay, a LOT less festive. Although there seems to be no shortage of twinkly lights on the outside of some houses. The homes I've seen with Christmas lights are literally draped with them. The blinking and twinkling is too frenetic for these human eyes.
Being the Christmas lover that I am, the lack of it in Asia is depressing. Sure, they have Christmas trees and even carols but something of the holiday spirit is missing. I suppose it's something that just can't be reproduced. I can picture the malls back home being covered with X-Mas periphernalia and carols lilting out at every corner. In Japan, the malls are decked out but in a somewhat stilted fashion. Kind of like my Japanese (or Korean) writing.
Determined to celebrate Christmas despite my location I duly visited the novelty and 100 yen stores to compile a small list of Christmas decorations. The fake tree I got makes Charlie Brown's look enormous. Still, it's been laddered with lights and ornaments that are slightly too large for it. It also keeps falling over but that's alright, we'll just prop it against the wall.
Hope you're all doing well.
Being the Christmas lover that I am, the lack of it in Asia is depressing. Sure, they have Christmas trees and even carols but something of the holiday spirit is missing. I suppose it's something that just can't be reproduced. I can picture the malls back home being covered with X-Mas periphernalia and carols lilting out at every corner. In Japan, the malls are decked out but in a somewhat stilted fashion. Kind of like my Japanese (or Korean) writing.
Determined to celebrate Christmas despite my location I duly visited the novelty and 100 yen stores to compile a small list of Christmas decorations. The fake tree I got makes Charlie Brown's look enormous. Still, it's been laddered with lights and ornaments that are slightly too large for it. It also keeps falling over but that's alright, we'll just prop it against the wall.
Hope you're all doing well.
Saturday, November 19, 2005
Being illiterate - Kanji Part 2
I thought I would try to update this thing more regularly. Which means I'll go through a spurt where I update every two or three days, and then sink back into lethargy where I don't update at all. This is one of the former periods.
I was thinking last night about my inability to read here. In China, I didn't even attempt it since every character was so alien to me. In Korea, learning to read was relatively easy and I was reading at a pseudo-decent speed by the time I left. In Japan, with the 3 different writing systems, one is tricked into thinking he/she can read but then some kanji is tossed in to throw everything off. I think the worst part of kanji is that each character can have a Chinese and Japanese pronunciation. When do you use which? Who knows, I think it's something you learn over time. The native Japanese can't explain why they use a certain pronunciation.
The interesting (strange?) thing about this country is that children in elementary/middle school can, of course, speak their language but have a hard time reading all the signs they see around them. You have to have a high school education to really be able to get around and read everything you want (signs, comic books, novels etc.) That struck me as odd. Being raised as an English speaker, I learned to read in elementary school and by the time I entered junior high I had no problem reading signs or books. Not so here, an elementary graduate can probably only read about 50% of the kanji they see.
The breakdown, as I can understand it, goes as such:
Elementary students are taught kyoiku kanji, equaling 1006 characters.
Middle school students are taught joyo kanji, (an addtional 939 characters.)
On top of this there is jinmeiyo kanji, those used in registering names. Lord knows, when this is taught. I would guess throughout junior high, high school, university and right on until DEATH (possibly kanji continues to torture the Japanese soul into the afterlife). I take this to mean that elementary school students are unable to read the official writing of names. I assume they are taught to read at least their own names.
My official thoughts on kanji are: it's way too complicated and I have no desire to learn it. What with the ten different meanings any one kanji could have depending on context, nuance and blah blah blah. Where would I use it after I leave this country? I watch Will study diligently pretty much every night and sometimes the vague thought that I should learn it too crosses my mind but the thought leaves as quickly as it came and I'm left in happy oblivion. Am I lazy you ask? Most definitely! Disrespectful? Probably. Actually, being here makes me realize that I should've studied Korean harder while I was there. My bad.
This is the illiterate, mute gaijin signing off for now. This post is bit longer than I intended.
I was thinking last night about my inability to read here. In China, I didn't even attempt it since every character was so alien to me. In Korea, learning to read was relatively easy and I was reading at a pseudo-decent speed by the time I left. In Japan, with the 3 different writing systems, one is tricked into thinking he/she can read but then some kanji is tossed in to throw everything off. I think the worst part of kanji is that each character can have a Chinese and Japanese pronunciation. When do you use which? Who knows, I think it's something you learn over time. The native Japanese can't explain why they use a certain pronunciation.
The interesting (strange?) thing about this country is that children in elementary/middle school can, of course, speak their language but have a hard time reading all the signs they see around them. You have to have a high school education to really be able to get around and read everything you want (signs, comic books, novels etc.) That struck me as odd. Being raised as an English speaker, I learned to read in elementary school and by the time I entered junior high I had no problem reading signs or books. Not so here, an elementary graduate can probably only read about 50% of the kanji they see.
The breakdown, as I can understand it, goes as such:
Elementary students are taught kyoiku kanji, equaling 1006 characters.
Middle school students are taught joyo kanji, (an addtional 939 characters.)
On top of this there is jinmeiyo kanji, those used in registering names. Lord knows, when this is taught. I would guess throughout junior high, high school, university and right on until DEATH (possibly kanji continues to torture the Japanese soul into the afterlife). I take this to mean that elementary school students are unable to read the official writing of names. I assume they are taught to read at least their own names.
My official thoughts on kanji are: it's way too complicated and I have no desire to learn it. What with the ten different meanings any one kanji could have depending on context, nuance and blah blah blah. Where would I use it after I leave this country? I watch Will study diligently pretty much every night and sometimes the vague thought that I should learn it too crosses my mind but the thought leaves as quickly as it came and I'm left in happy oblivion. Am I lazy you ask? Most definitely! Disrespectful? Probably. Actually, being here makes me realize that I should've studied Korean harder while I was there. My bad.
This is the illiterate, mute gaijin signing off for now. This post is bit longer than I intended.
Friday, November 18, 2005
Japan life - Autumn
Finally I can stop carping about the intense heat and go straight into carping about the intense cold. Well, ok, not really intense but building up to there I think. Japanese houses don't really do much to keep the heat in. I've taken to pestering my students to help me figure out which option says "heat" on the air-conditioner/heater remote. When in my house I bundle up attractively in track pants, t-shirt and some sort of hoodie (hoody?). I'm afraid to get out of bed in the mornings because I don't want my bare feet to touch the cold wooden floor. I miss the "ondol" heating system in Korea (where the entire floor is heated).
On Monday, on my usual drive to work, I spent half of the drive behind a white sedan. While this in itself isn't anything interesting the antics the driver was going through were. He spent that entire half hour slapping and/or hitting himself. And I mean the entire half hour. The slapping and hitting were pretty much continuous. At one point I actually saw him ball his hand into a fist and then, ram himself with it. In the rare 2 seconds he wasn't doing this, he would run his hand through his hair. I don't know, maybe there was a bee or wasp in the car with him. Or maybe he has some strange driving rituals. Who knows?
Anyhoo, I hope this post find all of you who read it well! Cheers!
On Monday, on my usual drive to work, I spent half of the drive behind a white sedan. While this in itself isn't anything interesting the antics the driver was going through were. He spent that entire half hour slapping and/or hitting himself. And I mean the entire half hour. The slapping and hitting were pretty much continuous. At one point I actually saw him ball his hand into a fist and then, ram himself with it. In the rare 2 seconds he wasn't doing this, he would run his hand through his hair. I don't know, maybe there was a bee or wasp in the car with him. Or maybe he has some strange driving rituals. Who knows?
Anyhoo, I hope this post find all of you who read it well! Cheers!
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
More about me
Hey, my week is off to yet another inauspicious start. I locked the keys in the car for the 2nd time in two weeks. (I've never done this back in Canada!!) I paid an exorbitant fee to have someone come and break into my car for me (a hundred dollars, stupidity is expensive), trudged into work and flopped down to plan lessons. The day actually went well teaching wise but then when I was back in the car, I promptly nearly ran over an innocent cyclist. At that point I just about got out and walked home but figured that would be completely irrational.
But, I have hope that the week will end more positively than in started. In the meantime, while I'm at this laptop I'm going to list things I often see on other people's blog/journal sites. That being, inane senseless trivia about myself.
Currently reading: Some book called Playing Away. About a selfish idiot who knowingly cheats on a loving, faithful husband. Also in the middle of Things My Girlfriend and I have Argued About.
Listening to: Nikka Costa, a new discovery for me though she's been around for awhile. Great great stuff if you like soul mixed with funk.
Watching: Office Space. I don't think I paid proper attention the first time I watched it. Damn funny film.
Eating: These strange amalgamations of fortune-cookie type cookie mixed with soy nuts. Bizarre but tasty. Also eating these chocolate filled things with pictures of koala's on them. They're called "Ko-a-ra no machi"
Drinking: Apple juice. Sorry, not very interesting or inspiring.
Useful Japanese phrase of the week: Mochikairi de onegai shimasu. Or just mochikairi. It means "take out" (as in food).
Annoying occurence of the week: Aside from the repeat performance of locking my keys in the car, I was visited by Jehovah's Witnesses. The main lady rattled off in Japanese for a while before I made it clear I didn't understand her. Undeterred, she pulled out an English version of her handy Jehovah's Witness manual which I rejected. These people are equally annoying no matter what country you're in.
Admiring: My heat lamp. It's toasty if starting to scald my face.
Pondering: How to not lock my keys in the car ever again.
Alright this is too much even for me. Take care y'all.
But, I have hope that the week will end more positively than in started. In the meantime, while I'm at this laptop I'm going to list things I often see on other people's blog/journal sites. That being, inane senseless trivia about myself.
Currently reading: Some book called Playing Away. About a selfish idiot who knowingly cheats on a loving, faithful husband. Also in the middle of Things My Girlfriend and I have Argued About.
Listening to: Nikka Costa, a new discovery for me though she's been around for awhile. Great great stuff if you like soul mixed with funk.
Watching: Office Space. I don't think I paid proper attention the first time I watched it. Damn funny film.
Eating: These strange amalgamations of fortune-cookie type cookie mixed with soy nuts. Bizarre but tasty. Also eating these chocolate filled things with pictures of koala's on them. They're called "Ko-a-ra no machi"
Drinking: Apple juice. Sorry, not very interesting or inspiring.
Useful Japanese phrase of the week: Mochikairi de onegai shimasu. Or just mochikairi. It means "take out" (as in food).
Annoying occurence of the week: Aside from the repeat performance of locking my keys in the car, I was visited by Jehovah's Witnesses. The main lady rattled off in Japanese for a while before I made it clear I didn't understand her. Undeterred, she pulled out an English version of her handy Jehovah's Witness manual which I rejected. These people are equally annoying no matter what country you're in.
Admiring: My heat lamp. It's toasty if starting to scald my face.
Pondering: How to not lock my keys in the car ever again.
Alright this is too much even for me. Take care y'all.
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Fighting in the new millenium
Remember when the only way to have a fight with another person was to be face to face with them? Well, I don't, always having had the option to fight over the phone, but with the advent of internet there is yet another way to duke it out (mentally not physically)...via email, chat and message forums.
I had a fight once with a friend, all done over a series of emails and it ended our friendship. To this day it is still the most random, idiotic fight I've ever had and I wonder what the hell we were both thinking. I want to believe our friendship was on its deathbed anyway but this might be wishful thinking.
I fought with my mother the same way so we didn't actually speak to each other for weeks. I was overseas at the time and this arrangement didn't make me happy.
The reason this suddenly popped into my head is that, during a fit of insomnia (from which I'm still currently suffering, it's past midnight here) I was browsing on a message forum I frequent and noticed a thread starting to turn very sour. (for internet forum newbies, a thread consists of an original message with all its replies) Now you can fight without even having to hear the other person's voice, much less see their face.
A major problem with internet chatting, messaging and emailing is that tone doesn't come through. What one person intended as a joke, is taken at face value by another. Sarcasm is probably one of the hardest things to express via type and has prompted many a confused reply from friends. Then you send a reply to the confused email explaining what you really meant. Imagine, if you were face to face, or even on the phone, none of that would've happened. Of course on larger message boards some people seem to lurk for the express purpose of dumping on what everyone else has to say.
Perversely, internet is also one of things that keep people in contact who would otherwise drift apart from each other. In the pre-internet days, my mother lost track of her friends in Korea due to a series of moves and general life busyness. She managed to locate them again and now keeps in contact mainly through email. I myself adore email, actually I'm probably unhealthily obsessed with it. Messenger programs are great too, particularly with the addition of sound and video (for free!). A close friend, from my Korea days, and I regularly chatted via messengers and kept up our friendship this way. But I digress...
I can never conclude my posts properly so I'll just say this is the end of it. Oi but I need some sleep. Take care y'all.
I had a fight once with a friend, all done over a series of emails and it ended our friendship. To this day it is still the most random, idiotic fight I've ever had and I wonder what the hell we were both thinking. I want to believe our friendship was on its deathbed anyway but this might be wishful thinking.
I fought with my mother the same way so we didn't actually speak to each other for weeks. I was overseas at the time and this arrangement didn't make me happy.
The reason this suddenly popped into my head is that, during a fit of insomnia (from which I'm still currently suffering, it's past midnight here) I was browsing on a message forum I frequent and noticed a thread starting to turn very sour. (for internet forum newbies, a thread consists of an original message with all its replies) Now you can fight without even having to hear the other person's voice, much less see their face.
A major problem with internet chatting, messaging and emailing is that tone doesn't come through. What one person intended as a joke, is taken at face value by another. Sarcasm is probably one of the hardest things to express via type and has prompted many a confused reply from friends. Then you send a reply to the confused email explaining what you really meant. Imagine, if you were face to face, or even on the phone, none of that would've happened. Of course on larger message boards some people seem to lurk for the express purpose of dumping on what everyone else has to say.
Perversely, internet is also one of things that keep people in contact who would otherwise drift apart from each other. In the pre-internet days, my mother lost track of her friends in Korea due to a series of moves and general life busyness. She managed to locate them again and now keeps in contact mainly through email. I myself adore email, actually I'm probably unhealthily obsessed with it. Messenger programs are great too, particularly with the addition of sound and video (for free!). A close friend, from my Korea days, and I regularly chatted via messengers and kept up our friendship this way. But I digress...
I can never conclude my posts properly so I'll just say this is the end of it. Oi but I need some sleep. Take care y'all.
Sunday, October 23, 2005
Crazy Product
Yesterday, in an attempt to go for a hike, I bought some water to drink at the local supermarket. It was unusually cheap at 58yen. Not bothering to read the label closely I picked it up, duly paid for it, then headed back to the car.
Once in the car, I opened the bottle and took a sip. The flavour was strange considering it was water and after I took another swig only to be met with the same weird aftertaste, I looked at the label. It read "DIET WATER" 0 calories. When in the hell did water ever have more than 0 calories?? Have mountain streams suddenly begun containing sugar or fats? Are they adding calories at the purifying plants? I have no idea but now, in Japan, they have diet water.
There may be some "valid" reason behind it but I think this has to be the most useless product ever made. And also clearly nothing more than a ploy to sell to girls who want to be thinner and avoid all the weight they can gain by drinking normal, fat-filled water. I myself, am always fearful that I'll no longer fit into my jeans whenever I take a drink of the clear stuff. So really, no matter how dehydrated or thirsty you are, be careful. You could be adding inches to your waistline.
'Till I update again. Cheers.
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
Driving in Japan part II
Everyday I commute to Tokushima City to where I work. I know a lot of you have no idea what this means geographically but let me tell you that there are 50km between where I live and where I work.
Now, this might take me about 40min or so under normal circumstances but the speed limit on the local road here is a rapid 50km/h. So it takes me a little over an hour to get to and from work everyday. On the bright side, I'm slowly becoming a better manual-car driver. There is another road called the Tokushima Expressway where the limit is a resounding 80km/h. No one actually follows this and cars regularly whiz by at 100k+. I took my little car to explore this highway only to find the poor thing just couldn't keep up. It only goes up to a 4th gear and anything beyond 80 was really pushing it. At one point I had managed to push it up to 90 and thought the engine would explode at any time. Not to mention I was the front car of an unintended convoy.
There are some other idiosyncrasies about driving in this country, mainly because of the whole driving in the left-hand lane thing. For instance, coming out of parking lots I naturally tend to veer to the right side but here, that's where cars enter. Pulling up to a toll booth the other day made me realize I really hadn't totally adjusted to driving here. I drifted to the left side, and looked up expectantly only to see a smooth expanse of metal. Momentarily confused, I looked to my right to see the toll booth worker looking at me with a "what does she think she's doing?" expression on his face. He was nice enough to come out of his booth and actually hand me the ticket I was supposed to take from the machine.
And that, my friends, is the end of this story.
Now, this might take me about 40min or so under normal circumstances but the speed limit on the local road here is a rapid 50km/h. So it takes me a little over an hour to get to and from work everyday. On the bright side, I'm slowly becoming a better manual-car driver. There is another road called the Tokushima Expressway where the limit is a resounding 80km/h. No one actually follows this and cars regularly whiz by at 100k+. I took my little car to explore this highway only to find the poor thing just couldn't keep up. It only goes up to a 4th gear and anything beyond 80 was really pushing it. At one point I had managed to push it up to 90 and thought the engine would explode at any time. Not to mention I was the front car of an unintended convoy.
There are some other idiosyncrasies about driving in this country, mainly because of the whole driving in the left-hand lane thing. For instance, coming out of parking lots I naturally tend to veer to the right side but here, that's where cars enter. Pulling up to a toll booth the other day made me realize I really hadn't totally adjusted to driving here. I drifted to the left side, and looked up expectantly only to see a smooth expanse of metal. Momentarily confused, I looked to my right to see the toll booth worker looking at me with a "what does she think she's doing?" expression on his face. He was nice enough to come out of his booth and actually hand me the ticket I was supposed to take from the machine.
And that, my friends, is the end of this story.
Monday, October 17, 2005
My week so far
I should make a list of the things that I did right last week. They'd pretty much amount to 0. If you ask me what I did do last week this would be my answer:
1. I accused Will of taking my keys only to discover that I'd locked them in the car. Since I commute everyday and have no spare this was a problem. So, I called Will and after it was found that my keys were dangling from the ignition on the car, I went into a panic, causing him to have to drive a combined 60min out of his way to unlock the door for me.
2. Once I got into the car, it was discovered that I'd not only locked my keys inside but I'd also forgotten to put on the park brake (the car is a standard so it needs the park brake). Luckily for me the car wasn't in neutral which is probably the only thing that kept it from rolling into our neighbour's half of the house.
3. On the weekend, I withdrew a sizable amount of cash for both Will and I, and naturally placed it in my wallet. Then, I promptly left the wallet at home on the precise day we'd needed to have spent at least 10 000yen. In Japan, the use of credit cards (particularly foreign ones) is almost unheard of. Cash is the main way to pay for things. I discovered I'd done this once we were at a highway toll booth where cash was very necessary. Somehow, we managed to scrape by on the 6000yen that was in Will's wallet. This included a 3300yen highway fee, 1000yen parking fee and buying some food and water at the raceway. After this we needed gas and had about 150yen to spend. There was a 7-11 that took all sorts of bank cards and spit out some much needed cash for us. I came home to find the wallet peacefully reposing on the kitchen table.
4. Today, at work, while attempting to open the door, I managed to idiotically get my foot in the way and scrape and bruise the hell out of it. After some swearing and gritting of teeth, I examined the foot to find it bleeding and missing some skin.
All of this started on Thursday and it's now Monday. I want to see what else I can do until Thursday rolls around again.
1. I accused Will of taking my keys only to discover that I'd locked them in the car. Since I commute everyday and have no spare this was a problem. So, I called Will and after it was found that my keys were dangling from the ignition on the car, I went into a panic, causing him to have to drive a combined 60min out of his way to unlock the door for me.
2. Once I got into the car, it was discovered that I'd not only locked my keys inside but I'd also forgotten to put on the park brake (the car is a standard so it needs the park brake). Luckily for me the car wasn't in neutral which is probably the only thing that kept it from rolling into our neighbour's half of the house.
3. On the weekend, I withdrew a sizable amount of cash for both Will and I, and naturally placed it in my wallet. Then, I promptly left the wallet at home on the precise day we'd needed to have spent at least 10 000yen. In Japan, the use of credit cards (particularly foreign ones) is almost unheard of. Cash is the main way to pay for things. I discovered I'd done this once we were at a highway toll booth where cash was very necessary. Somehow, we managed to scrape by on the 6000yen that was in Will's wallet. This included a 3300yen highway fee, 1000yen parking fee and buying some food and water at the raceway. After this we needed gas and had about 150yen to spend. There was a 7-11 that took all sorts of bank cards and spit out some much needed cash for us. I came home to find the wallet peacefully reposing on the kitchen table.
4. Today, at work, while attempting to open the door, I managed to idiotically get my foot in the way and scrape and bruise the hell out of it. After some swearing and gritting of teeth, I examined the foot to find it bleeding and missing some skin.
All of this started on Thursday and it's now Monday. I want to see what else I can do until Thursday rolls around again.
Thursday, October 13, 2005
Update
Hey all, haven't updated in awhile. I got busy with work and other stuff.
Just a short note to let y'all (who are actually checking this blog) that an update is coming soon. Hope you'll check back then!
Cheers,
-Yuri-
Just a short note to let y'all (who are actually checking this blog) that an update is coming soon. Hope you'll check back then!
Cheers,
-Yuri-
Thursday, September 22, 2005
Translators
To my great relief, I finally found work here in Japan. Hopefully this means my days as an unemployable pariah are over. Whew. (In the back of my mind I worry that this company will call and reneg on the offer...)
Anyhoo, despite everyone's assurances that I'm insane, I've decided to commute. The job is in Tokushima City which means well, A LOT o' drivin'! Though with the repeated emails and exclamations of "Really? You're going to drive? Are you sure?" from various sources, I'm starting to uneasily wonder if I've made the right choice. But all this is beside the point.
In order to take this job it means I can't do certain other jobs I had previously agreed to do. After some agonizing over what to do I, perhaps selfishly, decided I couldn't pass up the city job over 2 hours a week if I stayed here. So I hied myself over to the Board of Ed to discuss my options. It had been agreed we'd meet when the/an interpreter was available.
I arrived at the designated time to find that the interpreter had "retired." Whether this meant he/she was sick, sleeping, or had actually retired, I wasn't sure. The most important fact was, there was no one who could speak both English and Japanese. I was ushered in to sit down beside the computer where I sat and was served some green tea, that I drank in small sips. The supervisor sat beside me and turned on the computer. Once it was on, he showed me a translating program via the internet.
Let me tell you, translating words using a dictionary doesn't always work. Things get mixed up and literal translations sound just plain strange a lot of the time. The two of us sat there, typing like mad then clicking that magic button which transferred our words into Japanese or English. We spent equal amounts of time puzzling at what the other had written. One time, when I asked if a class time could be changed I got the response: "It is not easy to say because it is very crowded." When I obviously looked confused, he changed one kanji character and I got instead, "It is not easy to say, because there are many participants." Another mistranslation was: "We will by separately worry by this." (when I expressed concern over what would happen to the adult classes I was supposed to teach) It went on like this for close to an hour, with people periodically standing behind us to watch the fun.
In the meantime, on top of the tea, I was served black coffee. Seeing that all the others were drinking theirs black, and feeling rude if I asked for any sugar or cream, I proceeded to drink it black too. It was strong but I kept sipping it, hoping to get used to the taste. Hell, if they can drink it black then so can I! Between the tea and coffee I was also given some cookies to munch on. It was almost like being at a teahouse.
In the end, we got our respective points across though I still wonder if they think I'm an ungrateful b***h for ditching the classes they had set up for me. If they do, I'll never know it because people are unfailingly polite here.
All in all, an interesting day.
Anyhoo, despite everyone's assurances that I'm insane, I've decided to commute. The job is in Tokushima City which means well, A LOT o' drivin'! Though with the repeated emails and exclamations of "Really? You're going to drive? Are you sure?" from various sources, I'm starting to uneasily wonder if I've made the right choice. But all this is beside the point.
In order to take this job it means I can't do certain other jobs I had previously agreed to do. After some agonizing over what to do I, perhaps selfishly, decided I couldn't pass up the city job over 2 hours a week if I stayed here. So I hied myself over to the Board of Ed to discuss my options. It had been agreed we'd meet when the/an interpreter was available.
I arrived at the designated time to find that the interpreter had "retired." Whether this meant he/she was sick, sleeping, or had actually retired, I wasn't sure. The most important fact was, there was no one who could speak both English and Japanese. I was ushered in to sit down beside the computer where I sat and was served some green tea, that I drank in small sips. The supervisor sat beside me and turned on the computer. Once it was on, he showed me a translating program via the internet.
Let me tell you, translating words using a dictionary doesn't always work. Things get mixed up and literal translations sound just plain strange a lot of the time. The two of us sat there, typing like mad then clicking that magic button which transferred our words into Japanese or English. We spent equal amounts of time puzzling at what the other had written. One time, when I asked if a class time could be changed I got the response: "It is not easy to say because it is very crowded." When I obviously looked confused, he changed one kanji character and I got instead, "It is not easy to say, because there are many participants." Another mistranslation was: "We will by separately worry by this." (when I expressed concern over what would happen to the adult classes I was supposed to teach) It went on like this for close to an hour, with people periodically standing behind us to watch the fun.
In the meantime, on top of the tea, I was served black coffee. Seeing that all the others were drinking theirs black, and feeling rude if I asked for any sugar or cream, I proceeded to drink it black too. It was strong but I kept sipping it, hoping to get used to the taste. Hell, if they can drink it black then so can I! Between the tea and coffee I was also given some cookies to munch on. It was almost like being at a teahouse.
In the end, we got our respective points across though I still wonder if they think I'm an ungrateful b***h for ditching the classes they had set up for me. If they do, I'll never know it because people are unfailingly polite here.
All in all, an interesting day.
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
Sports Day
This is a day when students display their athletic prowess. Well, not exactly but something to this effect. The day started out with some ceremonial greetings from both the principal and vice-principal of the school. The students stood quietly in straight, organized lines listening to them. They were dressed identically, in white t-shirts and dark blue shorts, white socks and sneakers. The only difference was the colour of the headband they were made to wear. It indicated what group each student was in. They were organized according to grade and then by gender.
A short warm-up followed which all the students and teachers seemed to know from long practice. Then the students dispersed, chatting at the sides until their group was due to practice/perform. The first event that I watched involved girls and car tires (I can't recall what grade they were in). Basically what happened is that the girls were divided into two groups, ran to the tires and struggled against their opponents to drag them to their respective sides. What was most amusing was when they came down to the last tire, at this point ALL the girls piled around it, pulling and pulling but to no avail. The thing wouldn't budge what with all the pressure around it.
Events that followed were equally mesmerizing. There was an odd kind of obstacle race which involved: throwing balls into a basket, ducking under hurdles, somersaulting onto a mat, rolling an enormous number cube, getting your face sprayed and then dunking your face into flour, finally the students ran past the finish line. There was also a folk dance that I had to stand in for since there weren't enough girls in the San-nen (third grade middle school) class. That was fun, though I had no idea what I was doing for the first few repetitions.
Keep in mind that all this is being done with inspirational music being played in the background. On the sides vendors sold sno-cones (my favourite! the cola flavour was especially good) and takoyaki which are hard to explain. They are bits of octopus mixed in batter and then baked/fried into little balls. It might sound disgusting to the average foreigner but they're actually pretty good.
All in all it was a good day. Thanks for reading.
Saturday, September 17, 2005
Culture Festival
Today I accompanied Will to his junior high's Culture Festival. It usually seems to take place on a weekend and is to celebrate...culture as far as I could tell.
The first thing that happened were the 3 different grades each sang a song. As I can't understand Japanese, particularly if sung, I had no idea what the song might have been about. The students are all in uniform here. The girls wore sailor tops with pleated dark blue skirts and white knee socks while the boys wore short sleeved white collared shirts and black trousers. I'm not sure why Japan thought sailor-type outfits were great for girls but there you have it.
After the singing came a brass band performance and then a rap performance by three grade 9 students. Then the teachers sang another song I didn't understand. A trivia game followed and then some milling around. The fun part was the bazaar. We walked around, bought food from different booths that were run by the students and then I bought a ridiculous looking white vinyl purse for 50yen. Why? Because it was 50yen! Ah I love a good sale.
Afterwards was the closing ceremony, that I skipped, and they day was over. While I don't feel like I got an impressive amount of culture in me it was an interesting enough day. Clean up is extremely efficient. The students are really quick to put away chairs and tables that were used for the food booths. It was all done in about 10 minutes.
I look forward to Sports Day or undoukai tomorrow.
The first thing that happened were the 3 different grades each sang a song. As I can't understand Japanese, particularly if sung, I had no idea what the song might have been about. The students are all in uniform here. The girls wore sailor tops with pleated dark blue skirts and white knee socks while the boys wore short sleeved white collared shirts and black trousers. I'm not sure why Japan thought sailor-type outfits were great for girls but there you have it.
After the singing came a brass band performance and then a rap performance by three grade 9 students. Then the teachers sang another song I didn't understand. A trivia game followed and then some milling around. The fun part was the bazaar. We walked around, bought food from different booths that were run by the students and then I bought a ridiculous looking white vinyl purse for 50yen. Why? Because it was 50yen! Ah I love a good sale.
Afterwards was the closing ceremony, that I skipped, and they day was over. While I don't feel like I got an impressive amount of culture in me it was an interesting enough day. Clean up is extremely efficient. The students are really quick to put away chairs and tables that were used for the food booths. It was all done in about 10 minutes.
I look forward to Sports Day or undoukai tomorrow.
Friday, September 09, 2005
Some very random musings
It's another lazy day for me...there have been too many but nevertheless here we go. I ventured into a coffee shop yesterday to sit and well, drink coffee, write, read and enjoy their air conditioning. While there I pondered about the following subjects:
1. Why am I the only girl in this place? Ooh, did I enter a snack bar unknowingly?
2. Nifty Asian made cell phones! Very advanced...and prettily coloured.
3. How almost all things are packaged individually. Ie, cookies are often individually wrapped and then put into a larger package with other individually wrapped cookies.
4. Print Club/Photo Booths and their popularity
5. How this heat is just refusing to leave. Oi.
6. If I go to Kyoto will I be able to see a geisha? Or even more than one geisha?
Going back to #1, snack bars are places where men go to unwind and relax after work. Notice I said 'men' not 'people'. While the name 'snack bar' is innocuous enough the things that go on inside them aren't. Usually when viewed from the outside, you can see a rather nice building with the windows all heavily curtained off. In snack bars there are hostesses. These are women who go around, serve drinks and tidbits, and chat up the menfolk. Before I left Canada, I had to sign a waiver stating that I would not engage in this kind of work (in addition to prostitution and other unsavoury jobs). While hostesses aren't expected to do anything more than chat and harmlessly flirt with the men, there are some who go further, if you know what I mean. *wink wink, nudge nudge* Perhaps not the most desirable of professions.
At #4 I've listed Print Club. What is this you ask? Well, it is a booth designed for taking photo sticker pictures. We don't see too many of these back home, I don't think they're all that popular. What happens is you first choose the machine of your choice and then, the camera flashes away while you assume rather ridiculous (but sexy) poses. Note that this is usually done with at least one other person. Then, you choose how many of the photos you want printed. The real fun with the Japanese version comes from being able to adorn your photos with the most zany, loud and preposterous looking borders, stars, hearts and whathaveyou. Then, voila! You have print club stickers, ready to dole out to your friends. I commonly put mine on my bank card to dress it up some.
Alright, I'm only going to go over those two since the others look self-explanatory. Hope the weekend went well! Cheers,
1. Why am I the only girl in this place? Ooh, did I enter a snack bar unknowingly?
2. Nifty Asian made cell phones! Very advanced...and prettily coloured.
3. How almost all things are packaged individually. Ie, cookies are often individually wrapped and then put into a larger package with other individually wrapped cookies.
4. Print Club/Photo Booths and their popularity
5. How this heat is just refusing to leave. Oi.
6. If I go to Kyoto will I be able to see a geisha? Or even more than one geisha?
Going back to #1, snack bars are places where men go to unwind and relax after work. Notice I said 'men' not 'people'. While the name 'snack bar' is innocuous enough the things that go on inside them aren't. Usually when viewed from the outside, you can see a rather nice building with the windows all heavily curtained off. In snack bars there are hostesses. These are women who go around, serve drinks and tidbits, and chat up the menfolk. Before I left Canada, I had to sign a waiver stating that I would not engage in this kind of work (in addition to prostitution and other unsavoury jobs). While hostesses aren't expected to do anything more than chat and harmlessly flirt with the men, there are some who go further, if you know what I mean. *wink wink, nudge nudge* Perhaps not the most desirable of professions.
At #4 I've listed Print Club. What is this you ask? Well, it is a booth designed for taking photo sticker pictures. We don't see too many of these back home, I don't think they're all that popular. What happens is you first choose the machine of your choice and then, the camera flashes away while you assume rather ridiculous (but sexy) poses. Note that this is usually done with at least one other person. Then, you choose how many of the photos you want printed. The real fun with the Japanese version comes from being able to adorn your photos with the most zany, loud and preposterous looking borders, stars, hearts and whathaveyou. Then, voila! You have print club stickers, ready to dole out to your friends. I commonly put mine on my bank card to dress it up some.
Alright, I'm only going to go over those two since the others look self-explanatory. Hope the weekend went well! Cheers,
Thursday, September 08, 2005
Typhoon Update
Sorry folks, not too exciting. There was some wind and lots o' rain, but not enough to constitute a flood.
I stayed indoors and taught.
And there is your typhoon update. Today is very sunny and warm.
I stayed indoors and taught.
And there is your typhoon update. Today is very sunny and warm.
Hiragana, Katakana, and Kanji
At the moment, Shikoku island is being hit by a typhoon. I've never been through any type of severe weather (save the all too common blizzards of Calgary) so this is a new experience for me. As of yet it doesn't seem to be too bad but I hear that it's supposed to pick up tonight. Expect an update when this weather passes! Now onto the subject of my post...
In Japan, three different sets of characters are used for reading and writing. They are:
1. Hiragana - solely for Japanese words
2. Katakana - for English words phonetically written into Japanese
3. Kanji - Chinese characters that are nicely mixed in with both hiragana and
katakana
Where hiragana and katakana are phonetic and relatively easy to learn, kanji is symbolic and the very devil to master. Each character's meaning needs to be memorized, however once you begin tossing different kanji together to make various words, their separate meanings almost become nil and a new meaning needs to be learned. For instance, when the characters for 'heaven' and 'messenger' are put together the new word formed is 'angel'. While the base words for angel makes some sense, other words put together are more obscure in their relationship ie, 'woman' and 'child' becomes 'like'. Though I suppose the reasoning there is all women are supposed to like children.
In addition to having to memorize about a billion combinations of kanji, the Japanese also need to learn which pronunciation to use. There is a Chinese and Japanese pronunciation for nearly every kanji. Take the kanji for 'mountain'. The Japanese word for it is 'yama' while the Chinese word is 'san'. When do you use which? I have absolutely NO IDEA. I just go around making a fool of myself by reading aloud kanji by their meanings in English. As a result the words make no sense whatsoever and I'm left more puzzled than when I started. I'm already pretty confused to begin with.
Writing a foreign language is a task unto itself. My English writing is neat and orderly if I do say so myself. My Japanese writing is probably similar to that of a young child with severe motor-skill deficiencies. I haven't even attempted kanji. There is a certain brushstroke order that is supposed to be followed when writing most Asian characters. Because I'm so fabulous I make up my own rules and as a result, my characters don't look anything like their book counterparts. I think for certain kanji you have to make as many as 23 different strokes to complete the character.
Thus, the conclusion is, I really haven't learned anything. I can read hiragana and katakana but so much kanji is used in written Japanese that any words I might've known are completely overwhelmed by it. Thus, I'm more or less illiterate, yet again in another Asian country. This has been your friendly neighbourhood post.
p.s. The Kanji shown with this post means 'truth'
Friday, September 02, 2005
Ordering when you can't read the menu
Last week I went with two friends to a cafe/restaurant that could only be described as coming straight from the set of the "Flintstones". Seriously, on the outside it was a yellowish-beige colour and well, rocky looking. Once you stepped inside the stone-age ambience ended and you were presented with a rather quaint but cozy enough looking restaurant.
I thought that a restaurant like this wouldn't have appealed to men but by far, it was men who populated the cafe. Businessmen if their attire was any indication of what they did for a living. Mostly they sat on their own at the tables, browsing through magazines or manga (Japanese comic books). I was informed, I can’t verify if it’s true because I didn’t have a chance to read over their shoulders, that the popular genre of choice is pornography. Again, I can’t verify though judging from the selection of manga at the café, it could very well be true.
Literary predilections aside, once the three of us were seated, the task upon us was to decipher the menu enough so that we could order something recognizable. Two menus were provided, thus providing twice the reading effort. We pored over the small, short menus as if we were trying to analyze a Shakespeare poem. Sounding much like a 3 year old child, I would slowly read aloud those characters I could recognize while following my finger on the page. I don’t think I looked very bright. I don’t think any of us three looked especially intelligent. We would squint and scrutinize those words written in katakana (characters used for English words translated phonetically to Japanese) and cheer once we figured out what it meant. Ie. Ka-pei o-rei was café au lait. There are no ‘l’ sounds in the Japanese alphabet.
I would judge that it took us a good half hour of study (including consulting my phrasebook) to decode the menu to some degree of satisfaction. Then, in a show of stunning solidarity, we all ordered exactly the same dish, yakimeshi or fried rice. We did branch out by requesting different desserts. I opted for jam and toast, the other two received toast (sans jam) and a biscuit (I think it was whole wheat). Actually I’m not sure if this was dessert or just another mini-meal served after the main meal. I’ve learned not to order ice cream as part of a lunch set because it comes out at the same time as the rest of the meal and you’re left with a nice glass dish of soupy cream. Hmm, perhaps you’re meant to eat it first.
Afterwards, we went on a cheese run. This is exciting because there is virtually no good cheese to be found in Japan. Not the likes of cheddar, mozzarella, Monterey jack or etc. You can find brie and camembert. Our endeavours were somewhat thwarted when we discovered the cheese available at a designated supermarket really wasn’t much different from what you could find locally. It was a sad day but I bought some feta to soothe the blow and felt better.
My next plan of action is to go to a department store called Sogo in Tokushima City where I can go insane buying all the western fare that is fabled to exist there.
Reading a foreign menu is something of a challenge that I think everyone should try at least once in their life. If you can’t read it at all, just look blank and point to something at random. You will get some sort of dish, though it may not be easily identifiable. If you can read even a little you’re pretty much set. Nevermind that you’re reduced to the point of starvation by the time you understand what you’re reading.
This post was brought to you by Yuri’s laptop and her fingers. Cheers.
I thought that a restaurant like this wouldn't have appealed to men but by far, it was men who populated the cafe. Businessmen if their attire was any indication of what they did for a living. Mostly they sat on their own at the tables, browsing through magazines or manga (Japanese comic books). I was informed, I can’t verify if it’s true because I didn’t have a chance to read over their shoulders, that the popular genre of choice is pornography. Again, I can’t verify though judging from the selection of manga at the café, it could very well be true.
Literary predilections aside, once the three of us were seated, the task upon us was to decipher the menu enough so that we could order something recognizable. Two menus were provided, thus providing twice the reading effort. We pored over the small, short menus as if we were trying to analyze a Shakespeare poem. Sounding much like a 3 year old child, I would slowly read aloud those characters I could recognize while following my finger on the page. I don’t think I looked very bright. I don’t think any of us three looked especially intelligent. We would squint and scrutinize those words written in katakana (characters used for English words translated phonetically to Japanese) and cheer once we figured out what it meant. Ie. Ka-pei o-rei was café au lait. There are no ‘l’ sounds in the Japanese alphabet.
I would judge that it took us a good half hour of study (including consulting my phrasebook) to decode the menu to some degree of satisfaction. Then, in a show of stunning solidarity, we all ordered exactly the same dish, yakimeshi or fried rice. We did branch out by requesting different desserts. I opted for jam and toast, the other two received toast (sans jam) and a biscuit (I think it was whole wheat). Actually I’m not sure if this was dessert or just another mini-meal served after the main meal. I’ve learned not to order ice cream as part of a lunch set because it comes out at the same time as the rest of the meal and you’re left with a nice glass dish of soupy cream. Hmm, perhaps you’re meant to eat it first.
Afterwards, we went on a cheese run. This is exciting because there is virtually no good cheese to be found in Japan. Not the likes of cheddar, mozzarella, Monterey jack or etc. You can find brie and camembert. Our endeavours were somewhat thwarted when we discovered the cheese available at a designated supermarket really wasn’t much different from what you could find locally. It was a sad day but I bought some feta to soothe the blow and felt better.
My next plan of action is to go to a department store called Sogo in Tokushima City where I can go insane buying all the western fare that is fabled to exist there.
Reading a foreign menu is something of a challenge that I think everyone should try at least once in their life. If you can’t read it at all, just look blank and point to something at random. You will get some sort of dish, though it may not be easily identifiable. If you can read even a little you’re pretty much set. Nevermind that you’re reduced to the point of starvation by the time you understand what you’re reading.
This post was brought to you by Yuri’s laptop and her fingers. Cheers.
Thursday, September 01, 2005
Kobe/Nara/Osaka
Hello again and welcome to the umpteenth instalment of Yuri's frenetic blogging. Brought to you by time and the Toshiba Satellite laptop which is better traveled then a lot of my friends. While that sounds like a plug it isn't. (though I do very much like my laptop!)
Over the weekend Will and I went to visit a friend of his in Kobe, Jun. So, we duly hopped onto a bus, watched the driver wave enthusiastically to every other bus driver during the entire 2 and a half hour trip, then pulled up into Kobe's Sannomiya Station. Having been a small town for the past month, the crowded streets of a big city were almost surprising. That and seeing more than a two lane highway was also quite titillating, though the congestion was something I don’t miss.
Our first night was spent with the Jun’s family where we were welcomed with great hospitality and a home-cooked meal that didn’t end. When I say this I mean that food was constantly being cooked and brought out to us. I’m wondering if I should’ve left food on my plate to signal the fact that I was full and no longer needed to eat anymore. After the food fest, I watched the two guys consume large amounts of alcohol and then we went to sleep on traditional futons.
The next day we were up and off to Nara, a place where there are many temples, a lot of natural beauty and alot of...deer! Oh yes indeedy, deer deer deer at every corner and every turn. Of one of the main roads anyway. I'm not sure what kind of deer they were either. I had thought only fawns had the white spots on their bodies but these deer all had them, whether they were big or small.
Now here is how it worked. The deer were trained to want these special deer crackers. You could buy them from the vendor for 150yen. The deer were apparently trained to not want to eat the cracker's lying on the vendor's cart but once you had them in your own hands, hoo boy, watch out! As most of you know male deer have antlers, and they use these antlers to stab at you until you give them some crackers. No, it's not very nice but telling the deer this does little to make them stop. I even got nipped by one of the does and she left a bit of a bruise. You can make the deer follow you around by holding crackers up in the air and feel like the King/Queen of the world! The deer automatically gravitate towards humans until they realize you have no crackers, then you're left severely alone and shunned by these creatures. Most of the afternoon I watched several people trying to feed the deer though it usually resulted in them trying to avoid being butted and bitten. Some actually ran away, screaming, from the ferocious animals. By some, I mean me. Well, I didn't scream, but I did back away.
We also saw some temples too. I'm not sure what to say about them, being a temple snob since I've seen so many in the past 2 years.
Another thing that I did on this trip was goggle at the unusual fashion sense I saw displayed by both the males and females. Generally, I saw no young Japanese with their natural hair colour. No, it was various shades of brown, red, orange and blond. If they did have their natural colour it was overwhelmed by insidious streaking of the aforementioned colours. Not to mention that the mullet seems to have come back into style here. What starts off as a thick head of hair on most girls (and is sometimes teased into a huge pompadour), ends in thinned out trails. Now, yes, I'm in Japan and I realize cultures are different, blah blah blah, but a mullet never looks good on ANYONE. Not 80s hockey players nor trendy Japanese youth. *shudder* Make up was done with painstaking care. Powder, eyeshadow (alot of green) and lots of mascara. I wanted to know how they applied the makeup without having it run off the face as soon as you stepped outside.
Clothing was another thing. In order to be fashionable here you need to layer like there's no tomorrow. Girls would commonly wear:
1. a thin light coloured tank top
2. a slightly thicker more abrasively coloured tank top, and sometimes
3. a thin, short sleeved button down top, but left unbuttoned
Jeans were usually worn with these layers and in this weather I think that's nuts. During a summer where I'm constantly plotting how to jump from one air-conditioned place to another, jeans are just not an option. Girls also usually wore very girly sandals which I very much liked. No really, I sound sarcastic but I really liked them. I want metallic pink strappy sandals with big blue flowers too! (again, this is not sarcasm)
Men sported alarmingly similar hairstyles to the girls, to the point where sometimes I couldn't tell who was who and would commonly wear:
1. a tank top, and sometimes
2. a short sleeved button down top, left unbuttoned or just the tank top
They also paired their shirt/shirts with jeans. You've already read what I think about that. Men usually wore huge near-platform sneakers on their feet. We won't go into what I thought about that.
So to those of you who wanted or expected the lowdown on a Japanese city, sorry but this is what I noticed more. I also want to say once again what great hosts we had. Only in Asia have I met people who are quite so attentive to their guests.
Over the weekend Will and I went to visit a friend of his in Kobe, Jun. So, we duly hopped onto a bus, watched the driver wave enthusiastically to every other bus driver during the entire 2 and a half hour trip, then pulled up into Kobe's Sannomiya Station. Having been a small town for the past month, the crowded streets of a big city were almost surprising. That and seeing more than a two lane highway was also quite titillating, though the congestion was something I don’t miss.
Our first night was spent with the Jun’s family where we were welcomed with great hospitality and a home-cooked meal that didn’t end. When I say this I mean that food was constantly being cooked and brought out to us. I’m wondering if I should’ve left food on my plate to signal the fact that I was full and no longer needed to eat anymore. After the food fest, I watched the two guys consume large amounts of alcohol and then we went to sleep on traditional futons.
The next day we were up and off to Nara, a place where there are many temples, a lot of natural beauty and alot of...deer! Oh yes indeedy, deer deer deer at every corner and every turn. Of one of the main roads anyway. I'm not sure what kind of deer they were either. I had thought only fawns had the white spots on their bodies but these deer all had them, whether they were big or small.
Now here is how it worked. The deer were trained to want these special deer crackers. You could buy them from the vendor for 150yen. The deer were apparently trained to not want to eat the cracker's lying on the vendor's cart but once you had them in your own hands, hoo boy, watch out! As most of you know male deer have antlers, and they use these antlers to stab at you until you give them some crackers. No, it's not very nice but telling the deer this does little to make them stop. I even got nipped by one of the does and she left a bit of a bruise. You can make the deer follow you around by holding crackers up in the air and feel like the King/Queen of the world! The deer automatically gravitate towards humans until they realize you have no crackers, then you're left severely alone and shunned by these creatures. Most of the afternoon I watched several people trying to feed the deer though it usually resulted in them trying to avoid being butted and bitten. Some actually ran away, screaming, from the ferocious animals. By some, I mean me. Well, I didn't scream, but I did back away.
We also saw some temples too. I'm not sure what to say about them, being a temple snob since I've seen so many in the past 2 years.
Another thing that I did on this trip was goggle at the unusual fashion sense I saw displayed by both the males and females. Generally, I saw no young Japanese with their natural hair colour. No, it was various shades of brown, red, orange and blond. If they did have their natural colour it was overwhelmed by insidious streaking of the aforementioned colours. Not to mention that the mullet seems to have come back into style here. What starts off as a thick head of hair on most girls (and is sometimes teased into a huge pompadour), ends in thinned out trails. Now, yes, I'm in Japan and I realize cultures are different, blah blah blah, but a mullet never looks good on ANYONE. Not 80s hockey players nor trendy Japanese youth. *shudder* Make up was done with painstaking care. Powder, eyeshadow (alot of green) and lots of mascara. I wanted to know how they applied the makeup without having it run off the face as soon as you stepped outside.
Clothing was another thing. In order to be fashionable here you need to layer like there's no tomorrow. Girls would commonly wear:
1. a thin light coloured tank top
2. a slightly thicker more abrasively coloured tank top, and sometimes
3. a thin, short sleeved button down top, but left unbuttoned
Jeans were usually worn with these layers and in this weather I think that's nuts. During a summer where I'm constantly plotting how to jump from one air-conditioned place to another, jeans are just not an option. Girls also usually wore very girly sandals which I very much liked. No really, I sound sarcastic but I really liked them. I want metallic pink strappy sandals with big blue flowers too! (again, this is not sarcasm)
Men sported alarmingly similar hairstyles to the girls, to the point where sometimes I couldn't tell who was who and would commonly wear:
1. a tank top, and sometimes
2. a short sleeved button down top, left unbuttoned or just the tank top
They also paired their shirt/shirts with jeans. You've already read what I think about that. Men usually wore huge near-platform sneakers on their feet. We won't go into what I thought about that.
So to those of you who wanted or expected the lowdown on a Japanese city, sorry but this is what I noticed more. I also want to say once again what great hosts we had. Only in Asia have I met people who are quite so attentive to their guests.
Thursday, August 25, 2005
The Yen
In Japan, the price of living is pretty much what they say it is. Darned expensive. I am lucky because I am currently mooching off of my fiancé who is JET. As far as housing goes, I can’t give you all a realistic price since his place is well subsidized and nowhere near what the usual rent would be. First off, I will describe the yen. It comes in these denominations
1 yen - a flimsy, tin-like coin
5 yen - a more solid, gold coloured coin, with a hole in the middle
10yen -an even more solid, copper coin
100yen - a silver coin, about the size of a quarter
500yen - the biggest coin of all, light gold
1000yen - the smallest paper note
5000yen - the next smallest paper note
10000yen - the biggest paper note
If there is anything larger than the 10000yen note I don't know what it is. Japanese people, I've heard, usually carry about 20000yen with them at all times. This is roughly equivalent to $225 CDN. I don't know about you guys but I was lucky if I had a quarter in my wallet back home. The disarming thing is that loose change in your pocket could easily equal $20. I'm sure this has prompted many people to carefully search under couch cushions. You could come up with next month's rent. I will now relate the costs of some items and irritatingly switch between the yen value and dollar (CDN) value. It keeps you on your toes.
At the supermarket, particularly near the fruit section, I become depressed. The price of apples (my absolute most favourite fruit in the world) is about 2 dollars CDN per apple. Oranges are about the same and grapes go for about 4 dollars per tiny bunch. Actually most fruit are in the realm of the pricey. So what do I end up buying? It’s sad but honestly, I buy peaches that aren’t in their prime so to speak. The supermarket in my town (remember, I only have one!) usually sells fresh ones for the bargain price of 2 for 398yen. When these fresh peaches pass their peak they are packaged into trays of two or four and sold for a lower price. For instance, I picked up 4 not-so-fresh peaches today for the great price of $2! The drawback of this is you need to eat them...FAST. Apparently fruit was meant for the rich (and possibly famous). Perhaps the fruit all have diamonds and gold embedded in them. This could account for the sky high fees.
Video rentals go for what they do back home. Ie, Too Much. After some painful interaction, I managed to open an account, paid 200yen for the membership, was told something about 2 weeks (???) and then went to go pick out a video. I chose "Oceans 12" but, to quote Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, I chose unwisely. Unbeknowst to me some videos are dubbed into Japanese while others are just subtitled. Guess which one I chose? This misguided choice cost me 515yen. Like I said, pretty standard.
For a cost that caught me by surprise, I will now introduce the train. I'm fortunate to live fairly close to the town's train station. To ride into the nearest city (Tokushima), a ride that takes about an hour and fifteen minutes, it costs me 2120yen or about $23 round trip. Yeow, after the economical subway of Seoul this is painful indeed! (a similarly distanced trip would cost $1.50) I've bravely taken this trip twice though both times I felt like I was getting royally ripped off.
Gas is also quite expensive, going for about 140yen per litre. I pulled up somewhat shakily (my standard skills are still not up to snuff) and asked for a full tank. I drive a Mitsubishi Minica, a car so small that I routinely lose it in parking lots bigger than 2 spaces. The grand total? 3014yen! The cost to fill a mid-size sedan back home. I shudder to think what it would cost to fill a hefty, gas-guzzling, environmentally unfriendly SUV.
The last thing I can think of that costs more than usual is lodging. Want a hostel? Sure, it'll be close to $40 bucks for a standard bed. From this you can deduce what an actual hotel would be. If you can't, I don't have a lot of numbers for you but I think they start at $100. It would be good to know someone if you want to come to Japan, that way you can crash at their place instead of paying an astronmical bill.
Aside from the things I've mentioned, prices in Japan are somewhat similar to prices back home. I'm sure if you scoured the country you'd find bargains...even with apples. But this is what I've found in the 3 weeks I've been here.
Stay tuned because I'm visitng Kobe on the weekend. I will update when I return. Cheers,
1 yen - a flimsy, tin-like coin
5 yen - a more solid, gold coloured coin, with a hole in the middle
10yen -an even more solid, copper coin
100yen - a silver coin, about the size of a quarter
500yen - the biggest coin of all, light gold
1000yen - the smallest paper note
5000yen - the next smallest paper note
10000yen - the biggest paper note
If there is anything larger than the 10000yen note I don't know what it is. Japanese people, I've heard, usually carry about 20000yen with them at all times. This is roughly equivalent to $225 CDN. I don't know about you guys but I was lucky if I had a quarter in my wallet back home. The disarming thing is that loose change in your pocket could easily equal $20. I'm sure this has prompted many people to carefully search under couch cushions. You could come up with next month's rent. I will now relate the costs of some items and irritatingly switch between the yen value and dollar (CDN) value. It keeps you on your toes.
At the supermarket, particularly near the fruit section, I become depressed. The price of apples (my absolute most favourite fruit in the world) is about 2 dollars CDN per apple. Oranges are about the same and grapes go for about 4 dollars per tiny bunch. Actually most fruit are in the realm of the pricey. So what do I end up buying? It’s sad but honestly, I buy peaches that aren’t in their prime so to speak. The supermarket in my town (remember, I only have one!) usually sells fresh ones for the bargain price of 2 for 398yen. When these fresh peaches pass their peak they are packaged into trays of two or four and sold for a lower price. For instance, I picked up 4 not-so-fresh peaches today for the great price of $2! The drawback of this is you need to eat them...FAST. Apparently fruit was meant for the rich (and possibly famous). Perhaps the fruit all have diamonds and gold embedded in them. This could account for the sky high fees.
Video rentals go for what they do back home. Ie, Too Much. After some painful interaction, I managed to open an account, paid 200yen for the membership, was told something about 2 weeks (???) and then went to go pick out a video. I chose "Oceans 12" but, to quote Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, I chose unwisely. Unbeknowst to me some videos are dubbed into Japanese while others are just subtitled. Guess which one I chose? This misguided choice cost me 515yen. Like I said, pretty standard.
For a cost that caught me by surprise, I will now introduce the train. I'm fortunate to live fairly close to the town's train station. To ride into the nearest city (Tokushima), a ride that takes about an hour and fifteen minutes, it costs me 2120yen or about $23 round trip. Yeow, after the economical subway of Seoul this is painful indeed! (a similarly distanced trip would cost $1.50) I've bravely taken this trip twice though both times I felt like I was getting royally ripped off.
Gas is also quite expensive, going for about 140yen per litre. I pulled up somewhat shakily (my standard skills are still not up to snuff) and asked for a full tank. I drive a Mitsubishi Minica, a car so small that I routinely lose it in parking lots bigger than 2 spaces. The grand total? 3014yen! The cost to fill a mid-size sedan back home. I shudder to think what it would cost to fill a hefty, gas-guzzling, environmentally unfriendly SUV.
The last thing I can think of that costs more than usual is lodging. Want a hostel? Sure, it'll be close to $40 bucks for a standard bed. From this you can deduce what an actual hotel would be. If you can't, I don't have a lot of numbers for you but I think they start at $100. It would be good to know someone if you want to come to Japan, that way you can crash at their place instead of paying an astronmical bill.
Aside from the things I've mentioned, prices in Japan are somewhat similar to prices back home. I'm sure if you scoured the country you'd find bargains...even with apples. But this is what I've found in the 3 weeks I've been here.
Stay tuned because I'm visitng Kobe on the weekend. I will update when I return. Cheers,
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
Three times daily
Going back to Japan now, just a short post about the interesting "alarm" system they have going here.
In Sadamitsu, a melody plays three times a day. It's a different melody each time. At 7am I wake up because of the unfamiliar music that is being played ALL over the town. I'm sure that everyone in every household can hear it. It's not overbearingly loud but at the same time, loud enough to interrupt sleep. I suppose its purpose is to wake people up in anticipation of the workday (yay work!). It also plays, without fail, on the weekends. I suppose to wake people up in anticipation of their days of rest (yay rest!).
At noon another melody plays, this time one that I recognize as "Edelweiss" (from that beloved and celebrated movie, which all people love, the Sound of Music *sarcasm sarcasm*). The purpose of this notification? To tell people that it's time to eat lunch maybe? Or perhaps just to herald the oncoming of midday. Or it could be both! Yes, I've solved that mystery!
The last, again unrecognizable, song plays at 5pm. I was told yesterday that this is because it's time to go home. I haven't noticed that this prompts a huge onslaught of traffic but my house is also on the top of a hill and nowhere near a main street anyway. Also, in a town of this size, there really is no rush hour. Traffic flow seems to remain the same no matter what time of day it is.
If anyone ever comes to visit me in Sadamitsu, you too can experience the wonders of the thrice daily melodic alarms. I wonder if this is a regional thing? Or if bigger cities have them too? Food for thought.
In Sadamitsu, a melody plays three times a day. It's a different melody each time. At 7am I wake up because of the unfamiliar music that is being played ALL over the town. I'm sure that everyone in every household can hear it. It's not overbearingly loud but at the same time, loud enough to interrupt sleep. I suppose its purpose is to wake people up in anticipation of the workday (yay work!). It also plays, without fail, on the weekends. I suppose to wake people up in anticipation of their days of rest (yay rest!).
At noon another melody plays, this time one that I recognize as "Edelweiss" (from that beloved and celebrated movie, which all people love, the Sound of Music *sarcasm sarcasm*). The purpose of this notification? To tell people that it's time to eat lunch maybe? Or perhaps just to herald the oncoming of midday. Or it could be both! Yes, I've solved that mystery!
The last, again unrecognizable, song plays at 5pm. I was told yesterday that this is because it's time to go home. I haven't noticed that this prompts a huge onslaught of traffic but my house is also on the top of a hill and nowhere near a main street anyway. Also, in a town of this size, there really is no rush hour. Traffic flow seems to remain the same no matter what time of day it is.
If anyone ever comes to visit me in Sadamitsu, you too can experience the wonders of the thrice daily melodic alarms. I wonder if this is a regional thing? Or if bigger cities have them too? Food for thought.
Monday, August 22, 2005
The differences between MEN and WOMEN
In a departure from the usual Japan posts I thought I'd take this opportunity to expound on the differences between the fair and not-so-fair sexes.
I'm not an expert on the subject, nor do I possess a degree in psychology specializing in sex differences in the brain. These are merely my observations about the topic based on my experiences in relationships both romantic and platonic. And here they are! (disclaimer: The following is not representative of either the whole female or male genders, they are only examples…and a lot of it is tongue in cheek)
1. Communication
Where women are avid and almost obsessive in their desire to communicate either with their significant others or with other women, men have a more diffident, casual stance about it. That being, don't reply or acknowledge until the other party thinks you're dead. There are exceptions, namely if the man has a better half who is threatening him into communication. When I asked one of my male friends about his inability to reply to emails, he responded: "But I have nothing interesting to say!" Well, neither do I. I keep a blog to bore people to tears. Emails and phone calls don't need to be wildly entertaining, just to let us know you're THERE. With all the communication mediums out there (email, internet, texting) men should be very scared....
2. Washing the dishes
Okay, not a fun and exciting task but, trust me, women don't have a whale of time doing them either. I confirmed with a girlfriend of mine that leaving dirty dishes in the sink to pile up only aggravated us more rather than the intended effect of aggravating our boyfriends into doing them. Perhaps there really are sex differences in the brain and women are more prone to putting soap onto a sponge and then rubbing the soapy sponge onto used dishes or cutlery.
3. Taking laundry out of the machine
I do my fiancé’s laundry in addition to my own. Why? Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment, but I honestly don’t mind. One time I fell ill and he decided to help me do my own laundry. Since I’d already started the wash, all he needed to do was hang it up to dry (in Asia, we don’t have dryers). He went about it and finished in a suspiciously short amount of time. Later, when he’d left, I got up to inspect what he’d done. I almost laughed outloud because the sheets I’d washed were piled in a clump on top of my drying rack. Okay guys, you heard it here first, objects of the cloth variety don’t dry well when bunched up and, when in humid areas such as Korea or Japan, can even start smelling moldy. Ya might as well leave them in the washer. But it’s the thought that counts.
4. The famous “Oh go ahead. I’ll be fine.” – It’s a fine line
Men take note, when your lady says to you go ahead to do something, you need to study EVERYTHING about the way she said it and the activity you’re taking part in. My beloved and I were hiking in Grouse Mountain a few months ago and I’m like a snail when it comes to hiking anything remotely difficult. I know he’s much faster and told him to go ahead and that I’d see him at the top. I think I actually meant it at the time too. So, he went. The hike was gruelling. The longer it went, the more I expected to see my fiancé waiting to make sure I was alright. Nope, nowhere in sight, that rat bastard. When I saw the sign indicating I’d made it half way (after about an hour and a lot of sweating) I just about started crying and then contemplated going back down. Yeah, that’d show him, he’d really start to get worried then wouldn’t he? I actually ended up making it to the top but got progressively more and more pissed off as I went. Sure, I said go ahead but I mean c’mon, where the hell is he? I related this story to my friend’s fiancée who heartily agreed that I was right to be mad.
Sound irrational? That’s because it is, it’s the beauty of being a woman and saying things you don’t really mean, but not even realizing you might not mean them at the time. Your best bet is to stay put whenever there might be danger of your girl becoming angry. (note: if in a shopping mall “Go ahead I’ll be fine” really means go ahead and will likely even be suggested by the female. We can entertain ourselves for hours by shopping and your presence probably only hinders the experience)
5. Leaving cabinets open
Oi! If there is something that gets on my nerves its cabinets, particularly kitchen ones, being left open or not quite closed. This may be something specific only to myself. If I’m eating dinner and notice that a cabinet door has been left open I’ll stare at it until I can’t stand it anymore and then get up and close it. If my fiancé is cooking, I will actually stand in the kitchen to close the cabinet doors as he opens and then abandons them.
Men appear to operate by the standard: “Well, I’m going to open it again at some point, so why bother closing it?” Dishes and cups deserve their privacy too, so be a pal and close the cabinet doors.
6. Video games
For awhile everytime I called a close male friend I could count on him to be playing his Playstation while he talked to me. This phenomenon remains a mystery to me. The appeal of these games? You’ve got me. I’ve tried to play but I quickly get bored when I can’t pass a level and lose interest, this goes even for the ever-lasting Super Mario series. Perhaps I just lack ambition. Shooting games such as “Doom” and, I can’t even name another one, cease to be amusing after the first two levels, I get sick of pressing one button on the controller over and over. I once sat through (I was attempting to read at the time) my significant other playing the same level on a racing game about 50 times and each time the same horrible euro-pop track emerged. That song is now embedded into my brain for all time.
I will admit to being very fond of a game called “The Sims” but when I offered that up as a video game I played I was met by scorn from my male friends who informed me that it wasn’t really so much a game as Barbie for the computer. Having loved Barbie as a child I could see why I enjoyed the Sims so much. What’s not to like about watching your character learn to feed themselves and play the piano? But still, I can’t play this game with the same devotion that men give to their Playstations.
And these are a few of the things I observe on a daily basis. Thanks for reading.
I'm not an expert on the subject, nor do I possess a degree in psychology specializing in sex differences in the brain. These are merely my observations about the topic based on my experiences in relationships both romantic and platonic. And here they are! (disclaimer: The following is not representative of either the whole female or male genders, they are only examples…and a lot of it is tongue in cheek)
1. Communication
Where women are avid and almost obsessive in their desire to communicate either with their significant others or with other women, men have a more diffident, casual stance about it. That being, don't reply or acknowledge until the other party thinks you're dead. There are exceptions, namely if the man has a better half who is threatening him into communication. When I asked one of my male friends about his inability to reply to emails, he responded: "But I have nothing interesting to say!" Well, neither do I. I keep a blog to bore people to tears. Emails and phone calls don't need to be wildly entertaining, just to let us know you're THERE. With all the communication mediums out there (email, internet, texting) men should be very scared....
2. Washing the dishes
Okay, not a fun and exciting task but, trust me, women don't have a whale of time doing them either. I confirmed with a girlfriend of mine that leaving dirty dishes in the sink to pile up only aggravated us more rather than the intended effect of aggravating our boyfriends into doing them. Perhaps there really are sex differences in the brain and women are more prone to putting soap onto a sponge and then rubbing the soapy sponge onto used dishes or cutlery.
3. Taking laundry out of the machine
I do my fiancé’s laundry in addition to my own. Why? Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment, but I honestly don’t mind. One time I fell ill and he decided to help me do my own laundry. Since I’d already started the wash, all he needed to do was hang it up to dry (in Asia, we don’t have dryers). He went about it and finished in a suspiciously short amount of time. Later, when he’d left, I got up to inspect what he’d done. I almost laughed outloud because the sheets I’d washed were piled in a clump on top of my drying rack. Okay guys, you heard it here first, objects of the cloth variety don’t dry well when bunched up and, when in humid areas such as Korea or Japan, can even start smelling moldy. Ya might as well leave them in the washer. But it’s the thought that counts.
4. The famous “Oh go ahead. I’ll be fine.” – It’s a fine line
Men take note, when your lady says to you go ahead to do something, you need to study EVERYTHING about the way she said it and the activity you’re taking part in. My beloved and I were hiking in Grouse Mountain a few months ago and I’m like a snail when it comes to hiking anything remotely difficult. I know he’s much faster and told him to go ahead and that I’d see him at the top. I think I actually meant it at the time too. So, he went. The hike was gruelling. The longer it went, the more I expected to see my fiancé waiting to make sure I was alright. Nope, nowhere in sight, that rat bastard. When I saw the sign indicating I’d made it half way (after about an hour and a lot of sweating) I just about started crying and then contemplated going back down. Yeah, that’d show him, he’d really start to get worried then wouldn’t he? I actually ended up making it to the top but got progressively more and more pissed off as I went. Sure, I said go ahead but I mean c’mon, where the hell is he? I related this story to my friend’s fiancée who heartily agreed that I was right to be mad.
Sound irrational? That’s because it is, it’s the beauty of being a woman and saying things you don’t really mean, but not even realizing you might not mean them at the time. Your best bet is to stay put whenever there might be danger of your girl becoming angry. (note: if in a shopping mall “Go ahead I’ll be fine” really means go ahead and will likely even be suggested by the female. We can entertain ourselves for hours by shopping and your presence probably only hinders the experience)
5. Leaving cabinets open
Oi! If there is something that gets on my nerves its cabinets, particularly kitchen ones, being left open or not quite closed. This may be something specific only to myself. If I’m eating dinner and notice that a cabinet door has been left open I’ll stare at it until I can’t stand it anymore and then get up and close it. If my fiancé is cooking, I will actually stand in the kitchen to close the cabinet doors as he opens and then abandons them.
Men appear to operate by the standard: “Well, I’m going to open it again at some point, so why bother closing it?” Dishes and cups deserve their privacy too, so be a pal and close the cabinet doors.
6. Video games
For awhile everytime I called a close male friend I could count on him to be playing his Playstation while he talked to me. This phenomenon remains a mystery to me. The appeal of these games? You’ve got me. I’ve tried to play but I quickly get bored when I can’t pass a level and lose interest, this goes even for the ever-lasting Super Mario series. Perhaps I just lack ambition. Shooting games such as “Doom” and, I can’t even name another one, cease to be amusing after the first two levels, I get sick of pressing one button on the controller over and over. I once sat through (I was attempting to read at the time) my significant other playing the same level on a racing game about 50 times and each time the same horrible euro-pop track emerged. That song is now embedded into my brain for all time.
I will admit to being very fond of a game called “The Sims” but when I offered that up as a video game I played I was met by scorn from my male friends who informed me that it wasn’t really so much a game as Barbie for the computer. Having loved Barbie as a child I could see why I enjoyed the Sims so much. What’s not to like about watching your character learn to feed themselves and play the piano? But still, I can’t play this game with the same devotion that men give to their Playstations.
And these are a few of the things I observe on a daily basis. Thanks for reading.
Saturday, August 20, 2005
Humidity and its consequences
Humid heat is one of the things I just can't bear, but bearing it I have been since I don't have any other choice. Though I suppose I could always jump on a plane going home to where it's currently about 9 degrees and raining (Calgary has had one of its worst summers in history). I suppose Korea's climate should have prepared me for this but even that wasn't quite as bad as the misty heat you experience on this island.
I come from a city near the Rockies in Canada. Calgary is an extremely dry city. To the point where your skin will start turning white from lack of moisture and this happens no matter how much you moisturize. This is what I grew up with and where my body is comfortable. When it's hot in Calgary it's still alright. Whereas in humid areas, you can sweat just by standing outside for a few minutes. I tested this, and its true! Thank goodness we have an air conditioner or air kon which I've actually started calling it. Without it I'd cry on a daily basis.
Personal suffering aside there is another downfall to humidity and it has to do with spices kept too long in one's cupboard. Oh yes, I found this out yesterday. Lately, I've taken to cooking, figuring at the age of 26 I'd better be able to feed myself let alone others. When I first arrived at this house, a lot of condiments had been left. Curry powders, salt, pepper, oregano etc. Among these one was labeled "House Seasoning" which I figured was an all purpose deal. I hadn't bothered with this bottle and probably would've continued to ignore it had I not noticed a tiny fly crawling on the outside of it. Upon closer inspection it was revealed that the fly was actually on the INSIDE of the bottle. Somewhat grossed out, I picked up the offending container only to realize I was holding a breeding ground. There were actually a handful of flies crawling around and within the spices clumped at the bottom of the bottle were tons of larva.
It was probably one of the more disgusting moments of my life. Not knowing what to do with it, I set the House Seasoning on the table and then wondered how the hell I was going to throw it out. If you remember from an earlier post, garbage is all separated here. While the bottle would've qualified for the "plastic" category I had good reason to believe that the colony inside wouldn't. There was no way I was opening up that thing to comply with the garbage rules. I didn't want those flies taking up residence elsewhere.
Basically the moral of the story is, if you would like to experiment with flies of the fruit variety, buy House Seasoning, let it sit for at least one summer and voila, the little critters will pop out of nowhere. This would've been useful back in high school when we were trying to cultivate the flies.
I come from a city near the Rockies in Canada. Calgary is an extremely dry city. To the point where your skin will start turning white from lack of moisture and this happens no matter how much you moisturize. This is what I grew up with and where my body is comfortable. When it's hot in Calgary it's still alright. Whereas in humid areas, you can sweat just by standing outside for a few minutes. I tested this, and its true! Thank goodness we have an air conditioner or air kon which I've actually started calling it. Without it I'd cry on a daily basis.
Personal suffering aside there is another downfall to humidity and it has to do with spices kept too long in one's cupboard. Oh yes, I found this out yesterday. Lately, I've taken to cooking, figuring at the age of 26 I'd better be able to feed myself let alone others. When I first arrived at this house, a lot of condiments had been left. Curry powders, salt, pepper, oregano etc. Among these one was labeled "House Seasoning" which I figured was an all purpose deal. I hadn't bothered with this bottle and probably would've continued to ignore it had I not noticed a tiny fly crawling on the outside of it. Upon closer inspection it was revealed that the fly was actually on the INSIDE of the bottle. Somewhat grossed out, I picked up the offending container only to realize I was holding a breeding ground. There were actually a handful of flies crawling around and within the spices clumped at the bottom of the bottle were tons of larva.
It was probably one of the more disgusting moments of my life. Not knowing what to do with it, I set the House Seasoning on the table and then wondered how the hell I was going to throw it out. If you remember from an earlier post, garbage is all separated here. While the bottle would've qualified for the "plastic" category I had good reason to believe that the colony inside wouldn't. There was no way I was opening up that thing to comply with the garbage rules. I didn't want those flies taking up residence elsewhere.
Basically the moral of the story is, if you would like to experiment with flies of the fruit variety, buy House Seasoning, let it sit for at least one summer and voila, the little critters will pop out of nowhere. This would've been useful back in high school when we were trying to cultivate the flies.
Thursday, August 18, 2005
Driving in the Land of the Rising Sun
And in passing, why does this particular country get the moniker "Land of the Rising Sun"? Well, actually, I know the answer to that, it's Japan's location in relation to China. That is, farther East, where things begin. Korea gets stuck with the piddling name "Land of the Morning Calm". I guess it's calm since Japan stole the entire sun rising thing, but I digress.
By the time I arrived in Japan, Will had already secured a car. A tiny, white Mitsubishi Minica. Have no idea what it is? That's because cars of this ilk generally aren't manufactured in the States. It's very small and known here in Japan as a k-car (kei-car?). K-car's aren't just Mitsubishis but any car that has a small engine. Those with smaller engines are given yellow licence plates, instead of white, and I think have a break on some taxes. I swear you could fit this car into your pocket.
Japan, as most of you know, operates on slightly different driving rules, that is, they drive on the left hand side of the road. Or to North Americans, the WRONG side of the road. I don't see why the entire world couldn't all drive on the same side but there it is. At first it was strange to look at cars and see the steering wheel situated on the right side of the car but you get used to it surprisingly fast. Since I'm following traffic most of the time, it isn't hard to figure out where you're supposed to be. If I was alone on the road then I think I'd run into some trouble. Traffic lights are also reversed. The red light is on the right and the green on the left (which leaves yellow in the middle as usual). Then, in bigger places, there are some funky lights where the solid red stays but green arrows light up underneath it and traffic seems to proceed as normal. The meaning of this? Who knows? To spice up life maybe?
Driving a colleague home one day to a place called Koyadaira which is high high up in the mountains, I discovered that small mountain roads are only one lane. What happens if one meets oncoming traffic? Well, you slow right down and stay to the side as much as possible to see if both cars are small enough to squeeze through. If you're lucky there is a dip or shoulder in the road to swerve into to let the other car pass. If you meet a truck it is your responsibiity to back up and make room for it. The truck takes priority over all other cars. Luckily, I was just a passenger and Will was the one who had to stress about curves and oncoming traffic. I continued to usefully gape at the narrowness of the road.
In this country, cars are inspected every 2 years. This is called shaken. In order to continue driving your car, you must pass shaken, if you don't then no more driving until you get a better car. While this could be a good thing (you know if you pass that your car is in pretty good condition) it makes quite the dent in the pocketbook, anywhere from about 72000yen to 128000yen per shaken. I believe that if the car is older, and therefore needs more maintenance, then the cost of shaken goes up. *note: if you're interested in price conversions, look up the universal currency converter online*
Our little Minica went through shaken just this past year and won't need another until 2007. At that point who knows how much it would cost? But it's always nice to have some mobility, no matter what country you're in.
By the time I arrived in Japan, Will had already secured a car. A tiny, white Mitsubishi Minica. Have no idea what it is? That's because cars of this ilk generally aren't manufactured in the States. It's very small and known here in Japan as a k-car (kei-car?). K-car's aren't just Mitsubishis but any car that has a small engine. Those with smaller engines are given yellow licence plates, instead of white, and I think have a break on some taxes. I swear you could fit this car into your pocket.
Japan, as most of you know, operates on slightly different driving rules, that is, they drive on the left hand side of the road. Or to North Americans, the WRONG side of the road. I don't see why the entire world couldn't all drive on the same side but there it is. At first it was strange to look at cars and see the steering wheel situated on the right side of the car but you get used to it surprisingly fast. Since I'm following traffic most of the time, it isn't hard to figure out where you're supposed to be. If I was alone on the road then I think I'd run into some trouble. Traffic lights are also reversed. The red light is on the right and the green on the left (which leaves yellow in the middle as usual). Then, in bigger places, there are some funky lights where the solid red stays but green arrows light up underneath it and traffic seems to proceed as normal. The meaning of this? Who knows? To spice up life maybe?
Driving a colleague home one day to a place called Koyadaira which is high high up in the mountains, I discovered that small mountain roads are only one lane. What happens if one meets oncoming traffic? Well, you slow right down and stay to the side as much as possible to see if both cars are small enough to squeeze through. If you're lucky there is a dip or shoulder in the road to swerve into to let the other car pass. If you meet a truck it is your responsibiity to back up and make room for it. The truck takes priority over all other cars. Luckily, I was just a passenger and Will was the one who had to stress about curves and oncoming traffic. I continued to usefully gape at the narrowness of the road.
In this country, cars are inspected every 2 years. This is called shaken. In order to continue driving your car, you must pass shaken, if you don't then no more driving until you get a better car. While this could be a good thing (you know if you pass that your car is in pretty good condition) it makes quite the dent in the pocketbook, anywhere from about 72000yen to 128000yen per shaken. I believe that if the car is older, and therefore needs more maintenance, then the cost of shaken goes up. *note: if you're interested in price conversions, look up the universal currency converter online*
Our little Minica went through shaken just this past year and won't need another until 2007. At that point who knows how much it would cost? But it's always nice to have some mobility, no matter what country you're in.
Centipedes
I find that any new country I'm in seems to have its own share of wonderfully exotic and rather disturbing insects. They can range from those with long wings, long legs, long bodies and so on and so forth. Are you noticing a trend here? I hate any insect that's long. In China, it was very fast and wily centi or millipedes. In Korea it was the occasional cockroach (hey I'm from Calgary, we don't have roaches there) and what they called "meh-mi" or cicadas which if you haven't heard, can be deafening in the amount of noise they make collectively. I hate bugs. I probably have one of the girliest reactions to them, ie screaming, making a fuss, leaping onto couches, chairs, tables, you get the idea.
Yesterday in the living room of our house, a weird 'plop' noise interrupted my reading. As my gaze wandered the room to see what it could've been I noticed this black, very long centipede making its merry way across the floor. It was even disgustingly coloured, being a pale beige on the bottom, black on top with red tips. Being the proactive person that I am I immediately drew back in horror then whined while pointing at the offensive creature,
"Will! Ew...look!"
He accordingly looked up, though he should really be immune to my whining tones, and heroically grabbed the bug spray. Then he sprayed the centipede within an inch of its life. I've never used bug spray before, but I think I should invent one that causes instant death rather the prolonged agony this one provided. At first the newly sprayed centipede didn't seem affected by the poison. He scurried on even more quickly, seeking refuge behind the bookcase, so Will attacked with the can again. After a little more scurrying, the insect started in on the most horrific writhing and convulsing that I've ever seen. It curled and uncurled at an alarming rate, rolling onto its side, back, then front again. Transfixed, I couldn't stop staring at it, wondering just how much pain it was in. The performance wore on, with the centipede's curls growing gradually slower and sometimes stopping completely. Finally, Will couldn't stand it any more, and took it to its watery grave.
Sometimes I wonder if there'll be any karmic retribution. Will I come back as a centipede in my next life so I can experience the wonders of being slain via poison? I like to think I'd be smart enough not to enter people's houses.
Yesterday in the living room of our house, a weird 'plop' noise interrupted my reading. As my gaze wandered the room to see what it could've been I noticed this black, very long centipede making its merry way across the floor. It was even disgustingly coloured, being a pale beige on the bottom, black on top with red tips. Being the proactive person that I am I immediately drew back in horror then whined while pointing at the offensive creature,
"Will! Ew...look!"
He accordingly looked up, though he should really be immune to my whining tones, and heroically grabbed the bug spray. Then he sprayed the centipede within an inch of its life. I've never used bug spray before, but I think I should invent one that causes instant death rather the prolonged agony this one provided. At first the newly sprayed centipede didn't seem affected by the poison. He scurried on even more quickly, seeking refuge behind the bookcase, so Will attacked with the can again. After a little more scurrying, the insect started in on the most horrific writhing and convulsing that I've ever seen. It curled and uncurled at an alarming rate, rolling onto its side, back, then front again. Transfixed, I couldn't stop staring at it, wondering just how much pain it was in. The performance wore on, with the centipede's curls growing gradually slower and sometimes stopping completely. Finally, Will couldn't stand it any more, and took it to its watery grave.
Sometimes I wonder if there'll be any karmic retribution. Will I come back as a centipede in my next life so I can experience the wonders of being slain via poison? I like to think I'd be smart enough not to enter people's houses.
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
Awa Odori
Over this past weekend, Japan celebrated a holiday called "Obon." It's a time to celebrate your ancestors and is rooted in Buddhist religion. As Japanese legend tells it, a buddhist disciple, wanting to save his mother's spirit from hell, went to the monks and made offerings to save her. Thusly she was saved, went to heaven or zen and her son danced in celebration. (this was an extremely condensed version of the legend) As I understand it Obon is when people travel back to their hometown to be with family. Kind of like our Christmas...but without the religious overtones and gifts.
Remember the part where the disciple danced? This is probably one of the more integral parts of the legend since the major attraction during Obon here in Tokushima-ken is the Awa Odori festival. Literally translated Awa Odori means Tokushima and Dance respectively. I heard from someone that the dance was boring but after witnessing it over the weekend I couldn't disagree more. It's a delight to watch.
Awa Odori is a classical Japanese dance accompanied by similarly classical instruments such as drums, flute, shamisen (a stringed instrument), and gongs. Though there are conflicting beliefs on how the dance came about, I choose to believe it was to welcome the spirits during the Obon season. Traditionally, the dance had men and women doing separate parts. Today, women can perform the men's role but the opposite doesn't occur (when does it ever in any society??) The men, wearing a short yukata (summer kimono), white shorts, a headband and a strange version of tabi (socks meant for Japanese flip-flops), dance low to the ground, a fan in one hand and chanting. The steps are slow but deliberate and look deceptively easy. It's not. You need a good deal of coordination to be able to carry off the dance with the grace that these dancers showed. The women wear colourfully decorated, full-length yukatas, a straw hat, and in addition to the tabi, they also wear zori (traditional flip-flops with two wedges on the bottom). Their dance is performed with straighter posture and both arms in the air imitating the act of picking flowers. The amazing thing is, the women balance themselves on the very tips of their zori the entire time while dancing. With my sense of balance having fled when I stopped ballet, I would've fallen many times over.
The men dance their part first, followed by the women in a very well choreographed set of lines. While they dance they repeat a chant, started by one dancer and followed up by the group. What they say translates to: "Fools are dancing and fools are watching too. Both are fools ,why not dance!" (sorry, the translation sounds so cheesy, you have to hear it in Japanese where it goes perfectly with the music and dance). After the dancers come the musicians, egging the dancers on and occasionally stepping up the tempo to entice the dancers the move more quickly, which was my favourite part of the dance.
In Tokushima City, where I first watched Awa Odori, it's a formal affair. The streets are roped off and the spectators kept a good distance from the approaching dancers and musicians. While this was a great experience, I rather enjoyed Sadamitsu's more casual approach to the festival. The streets are fairly small and narrow so there isn't too much room to sit and watch. As a result, people mill around and you're right next to the action. Everyone has a front-row view and therefore, can enjoy it more. I also enjoyed the sno-cones they sold at virtually every block. Small streets equals easy access to the refreshments being sold during the festival. Nothing screams a good time like readily available snacks and sweets.
All age groups are included in Awa Odori, from toddlers to the elderly, and they all look like they're enjoying themselves immensely. This is the key to a successful performance and it made this former dancer want to kick off her western-style shoes and join in.
Sunday, August 14, 2005
I am an Amazon
In Canada, I am of average height or a little over the mean. My size is almost always readily available at any shoe store and clothes of the medium variety generally fit me quite well.
Then I went to Asia.
In China, I had the great pleasure of realizing I was now an 'extra large.' I could still manage to find shoes though my feet were close to being too big for the country. In Korea the infamous 'one size fits all' certainly didn't fit me, always being too tight to wear out in public. For the most part, girls in these two countries were tiny. Thin, to the point of looking fragile, and throw in small bones to complete the picture of waifishness. Although my two Korean-born parents are of the aforementioned small boned elite, I, being raised on wholesome eggs, vegetables, milk and good ol' Alberta beef, came out much larger than either my mother or my father. How exactly this was possible with my genetics is the object of much speculation since cousins of mine, also born in Canada, aren't quite as Amazonian as I am. I'm taller than all the women and some of the men, on either side of my family. During my growth spurt, my grandmother would look at me with a mix of awe and horror.
"How are you going to find a man tall enough for you to marry?" She would often wail. At this point I was only about 13 and still had a lot of growing left in me. My grandfather was also bemused by my vertical achievements.
"Hmm, you aren't tall," He addressed my mother (who clocks in at a bare five feet), "And Jin isn't really above the average (5'8"). What happened to your daughter?" Let it be known that as height goes I'm really a modest not quite 5'7". In Asian standards...HUGE!
Now in Japan, I'm confronted by something new to make me conscious of my size. I'm not sure if it's because the house is old (people seemed to be smaller long ago) but everything is situated very LOW. To wash my face in the sink, I have to really stoop. It's interesting fun to have my butt sticking way out just so I can reach the faucet. The same goes if I want to wash the dishes. If there's a lot to do my back starts getting sore from hunching over. I think I may take to sitting down to chop food to avoid any back stress. I'm close to touching the top of the doorways and the chains for turning the light on are always hitting my head. Though that last is also partly due to my habit of getting in the way of everything. Like I mentioned before, I tower over most of the girls I've met here and am probably comparable to a lot of the men. It's great to be a giant. I almost expect my voice to be deeper.
Then I went to Asia.
In China, I had the great pleasure of realizing I was now an 'extra large.' I could still manage to find shoes though my feet were close to being too big for the country. In Korea the infamous 'one size fits all' certainly didn't fit me, always being too tight to wear out in public. For the most part, girls in these two countries were tiny. Thin, to the point of looking fragile, and throw in small bones to complete the picture of waifishness. Although my two Korean-born parents are of the aforementioned small boned elite, I, being raised on wholesome eggs, vegetables, milk and good ol' Alberta beef, came out much larger than either my mother or my father. How exactly this was possible with my genetics is the object of much speculation since cousins of mine, also born in Canada, aren't quite as Amazonian as I am. I'm taller than all the women and some of the men, on either side of my family. During my growth spurt, my grandmother would look at me with a mix of awe and horror.
"How are you going to find a man tall enough for you to marry?" She would often wail. At this point I was only about 13 and still had a lot of growing left in me. My grandfather was also bemused by my vertical achievements.
"Hmm, you aren't tall," He addressed my mother (who clocks in at a bare five feet), "And Jin isn't really above the average (5'8"). What happened to your daughter?" Let it be known that as height goes I'm really a modest not quite 5'7". In Asian standards...HUGE!
Now in Japan, I'm confronted by something new to make me conscious of my size. I'm not sure if it's because the house is old (people seemed to be smaller long ago) but everything is situated very LOW. To wash my face in the sink, I have to really stoop. It's interesting fun to have my butt sticking way out just so I can reach the faucet. The same goes if I want to wash the dishes. If there's a lot to do my back starts getting sore from hunching over. I think I may take to sitting down to chop food to avoid any back stress. I'm close to touching the top of the doorways and the chains for turning the light on are always hitting my head. Though that last is also partly due to my habit of getting in the way of everything. Like I mentioned before, I tower over most of the girls I've met here and am probably comparable to a lot of the men. It's great to be a giant. I almost expect my voice to be deeper.
Friday, August 12, 2005
My Daisy Dukes and Culture Clash
Actually, I don't think my shorts would be short enough to be considered Daisy Dukes, at least not in North America. However, here in Sadamitsu I haven't seen another girl wearing anything quite as high above the knee. The thing I always manage to forget when I'm traveling is that customs and culture aren't the same. I mean this is obvious what with language and greetings but then you get to the more subtle differences. In this case I'm writing about something as simple as clothing. This being my third time living in a foreign country, I think its starting to wear on me.
On my first day in this town, Will and I prepared to go out to register me for my "gai-jin" card or alien registration card. Thinking nothing of it, I had put on a pair of innocent-looking Old Navy shorts. They were khaki-coloured and left a little more than half my thigh exposed. As I was grabbing my purse, Will looked at me.
"Um, maybe you should change your clothes. You know to make a good first impression."
I was indignant. These shorts were perfectly fine, thank you very much. As far as I knew I didn't dress like a ho. I'm a Canadian and we're not indecent people. Not to mention it was about a zillion degrees outside (have I mentioned how much I hate the heat?) and I was suffering from a 15 hour time change.
"You've got to be kidding me. What the hell am I supposed to wear? All my shorts look like this!" I said, exasperated while gesturing to the ones I had on.
"Just something not so short. Do you have any skirts? Please, do this for me. At least for now." He added this last as I was glaring, feeling mutinous and on the verge of saying a flat out "no." With a lot of mumbled complaints I changed into a more appropriate skirt that came down to my knees. I suppose it wouldn't have been good to be considered that trashy ho who came to join Will. I stomped back out into the kitchen ready to fight should more admonitions come my way. None came, either because the skirt was ok or because I looked like I would hit him should he find anything more amiss.
Today I ventured out of the house wearing a pair of my short shorts. Judgments be damned! If I received any askance looks I didn't notice. I choose not to notice things that would upset me. Though now I do wonder if I made bad impressions in China or Korea. In those two countries I wore whatever the hell I pleased. Clothing is just a part of it. I know I must've made numerous social blunders that the people were very forgiving about. Or perhaps they talked about me behind my back, bless the oblivion I live in! But both those times I was living in a large city, not a town where everyone seems to know your every move. When you live in a different country I think you need to adhere to some of their customs and protocol, but where is the line drawn? Clothing is one thing but what about my manners? I'm sure I'm probably the loudest girl here. Hey, I'm pretty damn loud even in Canada. Japanese women are the complete opposite of me. Sometimes you can barely hear them. I'm thinking they view me as this strange and huge amazon of an Asian girl who has a voice box to match (on average I'm about half a head taller than most girls, and alot of guys, I meet here and generally more robust). I'll also be known as the girl who wore those indecent daisy dukes.
On my first day in this town, Will and I prepared to go out to register me for my "gai-jin" card or alien registration card. Thinking nothing of it, I had put on a pair of innocent-looking Old Navy shorts. They were khaki-coloured and left a little more than half my thigh exposed. As I was grabbing my purse, Will looked at me.
"Um, maybe you should change your clothes. You know to make a good first impression."
I was indignant. These shorts were perfectly fine, thank you very much. As far as I knew I didn't dress like a ho. I'm a Canadian and we're not indecent people. Not to mention it was about a zillion degrees outside (have I mentioned how much I hate the heat?) and I was suffering from a 15 hour time change.
"You've got to be kidding me. What the hell am I supposed to wear? All my shorts look like this!" I said, exasperated while gesturing to the ones I had on.
"Just something not so short. Do you have any skirts? Please, do this for me. At least for now." He added this last as I was glaring, feeling mutinous and on the verge of saying a flat out "no." With a lot of mumbled complaints I changed into a more appropriate skirt that came down to my knees. I suppose it wouldn't have been good to be considered that trashy ho who came to join Will. I stomped back out into the kitchen ready to fight should more admonitions come my way. None came, either because the skirt was ok or because I looked like I would hit him should he find anything more amiss.
Today I ventured out of the house wearing a pair of my short shorts. Judgments be damned! If I received any askance looks I didn't notice. I choose not to notice things that would upset me. Though now I do wonder if I made bad impressions in China or Korea. In those two countries I wore whatever the hell I pleased. Clothing is just a part of it. I know I must've made numerous social blunders that the people were very forgiving about. Or perhaps they talked about me behind my back, bless the oblivion I live in! But both those times I was living in a large city, not a town where everyone seems to know your every move. When you live in a different country I think you need to adhere to some of their customs and protocol, but where is the line drawn? Clothing is one thing but what about my manners? I'm sure I'm probably the loudest girl here. Hey, I'm pretty damn loud even in Canada. Japanese women are the complete opposite of me. Sometimes you can barely hear them. I'm thinking they view me as this strange and huge amazon of an Asian girl who has a voice box to match (on average I'm about half a head taller than most girls, and alot of guys, I meet here and generally more robust). I'll also be known as the girl who wore those indecent daisy dukes.
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
Small town Japan
I write to you from my house (well technically not really mine, nor Will's) in Sadamitsu. A town with the towering population of approximately 5000. I should be trying to study Japanese but I'm a great procrastinator and instead decided to update my blog.
For those of you who don't know much about the geography of Japan, Sadamitsu is on the island Shikoku. There are four main islands that make up Japan: Honshu, Hokkaido, Kyushu and Shikoku. Honshu is the largest of the four and is where most of the big cities are (Osaka, Kyoto, Kobe, Tokyo) and I'm not on it. Now, I recall after being in Seoul that I never wanted to live in such a big city again. I certainly got that wish!
Sadamitsu is pretty easy to get around. Since I have next to no sense of direction this is a fortunate thing indeed. I really can't get lost, even if I take a wrong turn somewhere. The town just isn't big enough to get lost in. The main road is quite short by Calgarian standards, and is easily walkable. If you lived only in this town and never went anywhere else there wouldn't be much need for a car. While walking about the town yesterday I looked at my map and wished to visit the stationery store (I love pens and notebooks, can't get enough). I missed it during my first attempt. When I did find it I discovered it was half a stationery store and half a sporting goods store. What connection do stationery and sporting goods have? You've got me. But here I guess they go hand in hand.
On my way to the stationery place I passed by another store that specialized in "hankko" or name stamps. In Japan your written signature doesn't seem to matter much. What does matter is this thin wooden cylinder that has your name engraved on one end. You're supposed to carry it with you at all times and use it to "sign" documents (ie, car registration papers, bills, etc.) Having been in Japan for only 4 days I didn't have one yet. Will didn't know how to ask for it in Japanese so being the brazen person I am I decided this was the time to torture some poor storeowner. I went in armed with my Lonely Planet Japanese Phrasebook and a ready smile. Our resulting conversation went something like this: (note, I had no idea what the man was actually saying so it's what I interpreted he would be asking)
Me: "Excuse me *long pause* I'm foreign *shorter pause* Name stamp. How much is it?"
Man: "Is this a new name stamp?" (I found out the word for NEW later on in the day)
Me: Completely confused, my smile now cemented onto my face, "My name is Yuri. Katakana."
Man: "Yuri-san." And he writes down my name in katakana. I watched approvingly, knowing only the characters for my name and recognizing them. At this point it suddenly occurred to me that I might be doing this all wrong. What if they actually needed my last name, not my first? How do I tell him I don't want to do this right now? Not knowing how to communicate any of the above I just stood, mutely hoping I was doing the right thing, with a feeling of panic welling up that I kept quashing down.
From here I somehow managed to select the stamp I wanted, the cheapest he had, then went through some great pantomimes and sketches to figure out what time to return to pick it up.
Man: "Come back in one hour."
Me: "Eh? Tomorrow?"
Man: "No, one hour. It's easy, doesn't take long to make." After a few reptitions of this and my obviously not comprehending any of it, he gestured to the clock behind him. I looked at the clock and saw it said 12:30pm. I guess my look was as deer-in-the-headlights as you could get because he finally took a pad of paper and drew a clock, indicating 12:30 and then another showing 1:30. This I understood and jauntily took off...and came back at the designated when I picked up my hanko and with more jumbled conversation, where I think I managed to say my parents are from Korea, I somehow received a very nice case (complete with ink pad!) for free. I guess this was payment for pestering him all afternoon.
But in any case, I accomplished this much with next to no language skills. Just think what I could do if I could talk even a little. I'm going to take over Japan...
For those of you who don't know much about the geography of Japan, Sadamitsu is on the island Shikoku. There are four main islands that make up Japan: Honshu, Hokkaido, Kyushu and Shikoku. Honshu is the largest of the four and is where most of the big cities are (Osaka, Kyoto, Kobe, Tokyo) and I'm not on it. Now, I recall after being in Seoul that I never wanted to live in such a big city again. I certainly got that wish!
Sadamitsu is pretty easy to get around. Since I have next to no sense of direction this is a fortunate thing indeed. I really can't get lost, even if I take a wrong turn somewhere. The town just isn't big enough to get lost in. The main road is quite short by Calgarian standards, and is easily walkable. If you lived only in this town and never went anywhere else there wouldn't be much need for a car. While walking about the town yesterday I looked at my map and wished to visit the stationery store (I love pens and notebooks, can't get enough). I missed it during my first attempt. When I did find it I discovered it was half a stationery store and half a sporting goods store. What connection do stationery and sporting goods have? You've got me. But here I guess they go hand in hand.
On my way to the stationery place I passed by another store that specialized in "hankko" or name stamps. In Japan your written signature doesn't seem to matter much. What does matter is this thin wooden cylinder that has your name engraved on one end. You're supposed to carry it with you at all times and use it to "sign" documents (ie, car registration papers, bills, etc.) Having been in Japan for only 4 days I didn't have one yet. Will didn't know how to ask for it in Japanese so being the brazen person I am I decided this was the time to torture some poor storeowner. I went in armed with my Lonely Planet Japanese Phrasebook and a ready smile. Our resulting conversation went something like this: (note, I had no idea what the man was actually saying so it's what I interpreted he would be asking)
Me: "Excuse me *long pause* I'm foreign *shorter pause* Name stamp. How much is it?"
Man: "Is this a new name stamp?" (I found out the word for NEW later on in the day)
Me: Completely confused, my smile now cemented onto my face, "My name is Yuri. Katakana."
Man: "Yuri-san." And he writes down my name in katakana. I watched approvingly, knowing only the characters for my name and recognizing them. At this point it suddenly occurred to me that I might be doing this all wrong. What if they actually needed my last name, not my first? How do I tell him I don't want to do this right now? Not knowing how to communicate any of the above I just stood, mutely hoping I was doing the right thing, with a feeling of panic welling up that I kept quashing down.
From here I somehow managed to select the stamp I wanted, the cheapest he had, then went through some great pantomimes and sketches to figure out what time to return to pick it up.
Man: "Come back in one hour."
Me: "Eh? Tomorrow?"
Man: "No, one hour. It's easy, doesn't take long to make." After a few reptitions of this and my obviously not comprehending any of it, he gestured to the clock behind him. I looked at the clock and saw it said 12:30pm. I guess my look was as deer-in-the-headlights as you could get because he finally took a pad of paper and drew a clock, indicating 12:30 and then another showing 1:30. This I understood and jauntily took off...and came back at the designated when I picked up my hanko and with more jumbled conversation, where I think I managed to say my parents are from Korea, I somehow received a very nice case (complete with ink pad!) for free. I guess this was payment for pestering him all afternoon.
But in any case, I accomplished this much with next to no language skills. Just think what I could do if I could talk even a little. I'm going to take over Japan...
Monday, August 08, 2005
First impressions of Japan
I have now been in Japan for about 2 and a half days. I'm not doing too bad on jet lag or so it seems, maybe it'll hit me later in the week and I'll become narcoleptic.
The plane ride wasn't so bad. I had my own TV screen and could choose from about 7 different movies that were constantly looping. I could also play video games. Bad ones but games nonetheless. To me, this is high class flying. I've never had my own screen, much less video games. I spent a lot of time losing at Connect 4. That computer was just too smart for me. It made me mad.
Narita airport in Tokyo is huge and if you've been to Incheon in Seoul, it's very similar. I powered through passport inspection but got held up at the baggage carousel. I don't know if Japan is on a make-work program but there were at least 4 people hanging around the carousel making sure everything was going smoothly. Even China didn't have people doing those tasks. After sitting forlornly in my luggage cart (which was free, all that worrying for nothing) I finally hoisted my bags onto it, admist much grunting and puffing, then zipped through customs where they pretty much waved me through. I guess I don't look like a drug pusher or the like.
Will met me at Osaka airport at which point I'd been awake for 24 hours and had no idea what was going on. I couldn't seem to comprehend that I was indeed in Japan and that my Korean was useless here (it somehow registered that English was going to be no help at all). Everytime I attempted to talk, I had to stop myself from speaking Korean. Is this some defense mechanism of the brain? Or was I just really tired?
I'm now situated with Will in a small town called Tsuguri-cho. More specifically some district called Sadamitsu. After Seoul this place is tiny. No one seems to be on the streets at any time. There are only a handful of people at the train station and there is one supermarket in the whole town. No one speaks any English and I think Will and I are the only foreigners in this direct area. Oi. It's also HOT HOT HOT. I'm freakin' in a sauna. I've taken to wearing a damp towel around my neck to make it bearable, sometimes I cover my head with it and ignore any funny looks I might get. I've also taken to wearing skirts since my shorts are considered indecent here.
One of the stranger things here, aside from driving on the left hand side, is the garbage arrangement. And I thought Korea was bad where I had to buy special bags to throw trash out in. I have to have about 5 different bags here. One for clear plastics, one for coloured plastics, one for plastics not fitting into the other 2 categories, glass bottles, bottle caps, paper, food and scraps, and large things like electronics. Everything is separated within an inch of its life and thrown into colour-coordinated bags. Today when attempting to throw out a juice carton I had to consult the chart on the wall to figure out which bag it went into, this was after studying said juice carton for 5 minutes hoping to come up with the answer myself. Consequently, the kitchen is a mess of bags and garbage cans. Another slightly strange thing, our washing machine is outside the house. And the toilet has its own room, the shower and bath are together in a separate room. Why does the toilet get its own room? Is it a special toilet because I can choose from 2 settings?
Anyway, there are some random observations of Japan. I will keep you posted on the happenings here. I can't wait until October when things should be cooling down. Yergh.
Cheers,
The plane ride wasn't so bad. I had my own TV screen and could choose from about 7 different movies that were constantly looping. I could also play video games. Bad ones but games nonetheless. To me, this is high class flying. I've never had my own screen, much less video games. I spent a lot of time losing at Connect 4. That computer was just too smart for me. It made me mad.
Narita airport in Tokyo is huge and if you've been to Incheon in Seoul, it's very similar. I powered through passport inspection but got held up at the baggage carousel. I don't know if Japan is on a make-work program but there were at least 4 people hanging around the carousel making sure everything was going smoothly. Even China didn't have people doing those tasks. After sitting forlornly in my luggage cart (which was free, all that worrying for nothing) I finally hoisted my bags onto it, admist much grunting and puffing, then zipped through customs where they pretty much waved me through. I guess I don't look like a drug pusher or the like.
Will met me at Osaka airport at which point I'd been awake for 24 hours and had no idea what was going on. I couldn't seem to comprehend that I was indeed in Japan and that my Korean was useless here (it somehow registered that English was going to be no help at all). Everytime I attempted to talk, I had to stop myself from speaking Korean. Is this some defense mechanism of the brain? Or was I just really tired?
I'm now situated with Will in a small town called Tsuguri-cho. More specifically some district called Sadamitsu. After Seoul this place is tiny. No one seems to be on the streets at any time. There are only a handful of people at the train station and there is one supermarket in the whole town. No one speaks any English and I think Will and I are the only foreigners in this direct area. Oi. It's also HOT HOT HOT. I'm freakin' in a sauna. I've taken to wearing a damp towel around my neck to make it bearable, sometimes I cover my head with it and ignore any funny looks I might get. I've also taken to wearing skirts since my shorts are considered indecent here.
One of the stranger things here, aside from driving on the left hand side, is the garbage arrangement. And I thought Korea was bad where I had to buy special bags to throw trash out in. I have to have about 5 different bags here. One for clear plastics, one for coloured plastics, one for plastics not fitting into the other 2 categories, glass bottles, bottle caps, paper, food and scraps, and large things like electronics. Everything is separated within an inch of its life and thrown into colour-coordinated bags. Today when attempting to throw out a juice carton I had to consult the chart on the wall to figure out which bag it went into, this was after studying said juice carton for 5 minutes hoping to come up with the answer myself. Consequently, the kitchen is a mess of bags and garbage cans. Another slightly strange thing, our washing machine is outside the house. And the toilet has its own room, the shower and bath are together in a separate room. Why does the toilet get its own room? Is it a special toilet because I can choose from 2 settings?
Anyway, there are some random observations of Japan. I will keep you posted on the happenings here. I can't wait until October when things should be cooling down. Yergh.
Cheers,
Thursday, August 04, 2005
Musings from Gate 71
The following is from while I was waiting in Vancouver airport, bored to tears, so I decided to write an entry into my journal to be posted later...like now.
Internet is bloody expensive and being hoarded by 2 people right now so I'm recording this in my journal. This now marks the second time I've traveled internationally, alone.
I'm sitting at Gate 71, and being increasingly surrounded by Japanese people. Now, this should come as no real surprise since I'm heading to Japan but I find myself experiencing the same sinking feeling I had when I went to Korea. Oddly, I think I'd feel a hell of a lot more comfortable if I was surrounded by Korean or even Chinese people.
I'm asking the same questions, ie. What made me think this was a good idea in the 1st place?? Why am I leaving the comforts of home where I'm easily understood? Little things niggle at me too. Like, do luggage carts cost money in Narita airport? Hmm, I should exchange some cash. But what if it only takes coins? I don't have any coins! Or, what if I throw out my back trying to life that huge suitcase of mine?
Oh oh oh, more Japanese people coming, panic panic. Well, I'll write again from across the Pacific.
Internet is bloody expensive and being hoarded by 2 people right now so I'm recording this in my journal. This now marks the second time I've traveled internationally, alone.
I'm sitting at Gate 71, and being increasingly surrounded by Japanese people. Now, this should come as no real surprise since I'm heading to Japan but I find myself experiencing the same sinking feeling I had when I went to Korea. Oddly, I think I'd feel a hell of a lot more comfortable if I was surrounded by Korean or even Chinese people.
I'm asking the same questions, ie. What made me think this was a good idea in the 1st place?? Why am I leaving the comforts of home where I'm easily understood? Little things niggle at me too. Like, do luggage carts cost money in Narita airport? Hmm, I should exchange some cash. But what if it only takes coins? I don't have any coins! Or, what if I throw out my back trying to life that huge suitcase of mine?
Oh oh oh, more Japanese people coming, panic panic. Well, I'll write again from across the Pacific.
Thursday, July 28, 2005
Being pseudo-Korean in Korea
Although I've been back from Korea for more than half a year now, I'll enlighten you all and what it's like to be considered a native in a country you barely know.
Having been born and raised in Canada, I know next to nothing about my Korean heritage. I can understand a little and speak even less. I can read slowly but my writing is horrendous. It's not something I'm proud of, it's just a fact. About 2 years ago, I had a sudden burning desire to fly off to the country my parents came from in order to discover more about it. Nothing would dissuade me, not threats from my mother or father, nor the continual rejections I received from Korean english schools (as I am Asian, it's assumed I can't speak English correctly). I finally landed a rather good job and took off. About 2 minutes into the flight I thought to myself, "What the hell do I think I'm doing?" and had an equally fervent desire to demand that the captain turn the plane around as I'd changed my mind.
Then, 13 hours later, I landed in Incheon International Airport. Having been awake for nearly a day, I was dirty, tired and unaware of my surroundings. I somehow managed to pass through customs causing the first Korean some surprise that I spoke only in English.
From there on, I was a sort of phenomenon in Korea. The girl who looks like us but can't speak!! How can this be? Why didn't she learn as a child? What were her parents thinking? I almost dreaded getting into taxis where I would, in Korean, tell the driver my destination. A common conversation went something like this:
"Please take me to Beomgye Station." (me in Korean)
"What?" Taxi driver's response to my very bad accent.
"Um, please take me to Beomgye Station?" I repeat this starting to feel impending doom.
"Ah! You're a foreigner!!" Taxi driver is pleased with himself for deducing this fact.
"Well, my parents are Korean, but I was born in Canada." (me in Korean again) This is where I make my fatal error.
"Korean! And they didn't teach you to speak? Why not? All Koreans should at least know how to speak their own language!" Taxi driver continues to moralize me while I realize that the impending doom has arrived and wonder why the drive seems 10 times longer than usual. Not having enough language skills to continue a long conversation I usually laughed weakly and shut up whenever this kind of thing happened. I have since learned the wisdom of agreeing with anyone who assumed I was a foreigner.
Looking Korean could have its benefits too though. I was blessed with anonymity. For instance, on the subway, or anywhere in public for that matter, I wasn't stared or goggled at like many of my Canadian/American friends. I wouldn't be approached by random people asking for English lessons. Of course, once I opened my mouth to speak then all eyes riveted to me as if I had suddenly broken out into song.
I paint a bad picture here. There were a lot of times where I was praised for my pathetic Korean speaking skills. Many appreciated the fact that I tried to talk even if I wasn't always successful in communicating my point.
Having been born and raised in Canada, I know next to nothing about my Korean heritage. I can understand a little and speak even less. I can read slowly but my writing is horrendous. It's not something I'm proud of, it's just a fact. About 2 years ago, I had a sudden burning desire to fly off to the country my parents came from in order to discover more about it. Nothing would dissuade me, not threats from my mother or father, nor the continual rejections I received from Korean english schools (as I am Asian, it's assumed I can't speak English correctly). I finally landed a rather good job and took off. About 2 minutes into the flight I thought to myself, "What the hell do I think I'm doing?" and had an equally fervent desire to demand that the captain turn the plane around as I'd changed my mind.
Then, 13 hours later, I landed in Incheon International Airport. Having been awake for nearly a day, I was dirty, tired and unaware of my surroundings. I somehow managed to pass through customs causing the first Korean some surprise that I spoke only in English.
From there on, I was a sort of phenomenon in Korea. The girl who looks like us but can't speak!! How can this be? Why didn't she learn as a child? What were her parents thinking? I almost dreaded getting into taxis where I would, in Korean, tell the driver my destination. A common conversation went something like this:
"Please take me to Beomgye Station." (me in Korean)
"What?" Taxi driver's response to my very bad accent.
"Um, please take me to Beomgye Station?" I repeat this starting to feel impending doom.
"Ah! You're a foreigner!!" Taxi driver is pleased with himself for deducing this fact.
"Well, my parents are Korean, but I was born in Canada." (me in Korean again) This is where I make my fatal error.
"Korean! And they didn't teach you to speak? Why not? All Koreans should at least know how to speak their own language!" Taxi driver continues to moralize me while I realize that the impending doom has arrived and wonder why the drive seems 10 times longer than usual. Not having enough language skills to continue a long conversation I usually laughed weakly and shut up whenever this kind of thing happened. I have since learned the wisdom of agreeing with anyone who assumed I was a foreigner.
Looking Korean could have its benefits too though. I was blessed with anonymity. For instance, on the subway, or anywhere in public for that matter, I wasn't stared or goggled at like many of my Canadian/American friends. I wouldn't be approached by random people asking for English lessons. Of course, once I opened my mouth to speak then all eyes riveted to me as if I had suddenly broken out into song.
I paint a bad picture here. There were a lot of times where I was praised for my pathetic Korean speaking skills. Many appreciated the fact that I tried to talk even if I wasn't always successful in communicating my point.
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
Being Type A
One of the sad things that I've come to realize about myself is the fact that I like to worry about EVERYTHING. It can be the most inconsequential thing, but if it's out of the ordinary then I start to worry. From a blemish on my foot (Oh God, it's cancer!), school assignments (Oh God, what if I failed? It'll bring down my GPA!), to money investments (Oh God, what if I go broke? I'll be on welfare! Nooo!) Life just isn't quite complete without that knot in your stomach, oh the fun of having a Type A personality.
On the receiving end of this non-stop worrying are:
1. My parents (particularly my long suffering mother)
2. Will (lucky for him he is currently in LA)
3. My friends
All have experienced my neurotic tendencies, watching until I either cry or give myself some wicked indigestion. Neither provide for great bonding moments and the parties in question most likely do not look back fondly on the event. My worrying evidently started early since my parents regale me with fantastic tales of "Yuri as a horrible baby" (my words, not theirs). Ie, at the tender age of 1, I would cry and cry and cry until I made myself throw up.
I will now outline the steps that lead to some fun worrying. We will use my foot blemish as an example,
1. Event happens - I notice the blemish and think, "Oh, what's that?"
2. Dwell on event - Hmm, that looks strange and I can't rub it off. What IS this?
3. Begin to enlarge event in head - Okay, this thing is weird. No one else has this. Maybe it's serious.
4. Decide eventual outcome of event - I'm going to die from foot cancer.
5. Share decided eventual outcome with friends/family and ask opinions - Look at this! Do you think I'm going to die of foot cancer???
You can only cry wolf so many times and now I'm usually met with disgusted looks and shakes of the head when I relate things such as I've listed above.
On the receiving end of this non-stop worrying are:
1. My parents (particularly my long suffering mother)
2. Will (lucky for him he is currently in LA)
3. My friends
All have experienced my neurotic tendencies, watching until I either cry or give myself some wicked indigestion. Neither provide for great bonding moments and the parties in question most likely do not look back fondly on the event. My worrying evidently started early since my parents regale me with fantastic tales of "Yuri as a horrible baby" (my words, not theirs). Ie, at the tender age of 1, I would cry and cry and cry until I made myself throw up.
I will now outline the steps that lead to some fun worrying. We will use my foot blemish as an example,
1. Event happens - I notice the blemish and think, "Oh, what's that?"
2. Dwell on event - Hmm, that looks strange and I can't rub it off. What IS this?
3. Begin to enlarge event in head - Okay, this thing is weird. No one else has this. Maybe it's serious.
4. Decide eventual outcome of event - I'm going to die from foot cancer.
5. Share decided eventual outcome with friends/family and ask opinions - Look at this! Do you think I'm going to die of foot cancer???
You can only cry wolf so many times and now I'm usually met with disgusted looks and shakes of the head when I relate things such as I've listed above.
Friday, July 15, 2005
Yee-haw! It's the Calgary Stampede!
It's that time of year when Calgary transforms into a veritable ranch. The business men of downtown disappear and are replaced with jeans, boots, bolo ties, and stetsons. I'm almost surprised that I don't see cows and horses alongside the cars while sitting in traffic. The Calgary Stampede and Exhibition, coined the "Greatest Outdoor Show on Earth", is acknowledged to the be the largest spectacle of its kind. This is where the cowboys come, from all over North America, for the BIG prize money, up to $50 000, in their respective competitions.
As a child growing up in Calgary I went to the Stampede pretty much every year. Back then I anticipated a day of eating junk food (corn dogs and cotton candy are perennial favourites) and rides on the midway. The Stampede grounds are typically filled with people roaming around, carnies calling for you to play their games, and lines winding around the more popular rides. Usually the day is hot and you can enjoy the sunshine (and sticky cotton candy hands) until it sets around 10pm. Calgary is very far north so as a result, we have long summer days and short winter ones.
Going to the Stampede this year, after a 2 year absence, was great! I felt like this time I took much more notice of those people dressed top to toe in cowboy regalia. You can feel the western spirit in the air. The sheer volume of stetsons is amazing! The aroma from the barbeque pits are tantalizing and it seems you just have to have that $4 lemonade the vendor selling (or conversely, that $6 Budweiser). In the distance you can hear the screams of fright and fun coming from the more daredevil rides on the midway.
I also took in the Chuckwagon races for the first time in my Stampede history. Nowhere but the Stampede can watching men control four horses while sitting on a modified chuckwagon be exciting. I especially enjoyed watching the outriders smoothly jump onto their horses. It's good ol' redneck,western entertainment at its best. It's a pity I missed the rodeo and calf-roping competitions (where the cowboy must run down an escaping calf and rope at least three of its legs together). Don't worry, the calf is not harmed in the process, just frightened.
Accompanying the Stampede every year are the various venues for free Stampede breakfasts. This includes, two pancakes, sausage, juice, and some live country music. The lines are long but for the city of impatient Calgarians we're suprisingly willing to wait our turn in order to take part in a good western morning meal. There aren't many places to sit but we make do with what we have.
This western-style revelry goes on for 10 days and when it's finished the booths and rides pack up and move on to their next destination (which I think is the more inferior Klondike Days in Edmonton). Stetsons, bolos and boots are packed up, cowboys go back to being businessmen and the city returns to its normal rather mundane self.
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