Heaters

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.

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.

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.

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.