My life as a couch potato

With the first half of school giving way to the winter break I have found myself with and inordinate amount of time on my hands. This feels rather strange after having run around constantly not knowing what the heck I was doing for the last 2 months. Since said break began I have not done one really productive thing with my time. Unless you count baking cookies as productive (which could be argued to be so).

My intention during my last week of school was to have a "pajama day". This entailed the arduous task of wearing my pajamas all day long and not moving from the couch, except for those irksome but necessary visits to the bathroom. I tried this out yesterday and enjoyed it for the first half of the day and then found I started to feel weak from inactivity. Not to mention I had become addicted to some game I found on the web. I sat and stared at my computer screen for, I kid you not, 6 hours. And I still haven't passed the damned thing. Actually I'll probably cry when I do, that game is darned fun. But I digress.

I concluded that pajama day will only work if you get fresh air in between, thus ending the whole purpose of the day since you can't walk outside in your jammies during the winter months in Calgary unless you want to die by freezing. Seeing as how I find the idea of turning into a human popsicle distasteful, this ends my quest for the perfect lazy day. Gol ding it!

Please note that the above was brought to you while sitting in my pajamas. Take care.

The joys of Last Minute shopping

It's that time of year when carols are played on radio stations and the unmistakable bells of the Salvation Army can be heard when you walk into any mall. Yes, Christmas has arrived once again, cheering on 2006 as it prepares to make it's grand exit.

Along with Christmas comes trees, tinsel, lights and the delightful frenzy of last-minute shopping, something I always vow to avoid but end up indulging in anyway. I mean, who really finishes all their shopping before November? No one I personally know. Who would want to avoid the agony of searching of a parking spot? The elbowing your way through crowds of tired, cranky people all searching for that 'perfect' gift? The obviously exhausted looks of salespeople?

Yesterday I was lucky that Canadian Tire was the only stop I had to make, it isn't exactly the hotspot of shopping. For real live frenzy you need to stop at Market, Chinook or Southcentre Malls. If you manage to find the oh so elusive parking spot you can then be dazzled by overly bright lights as you enter the mall. Then commence the aimless wandering that inevitably follows as you wonder what in tarnation to get your father. The frustration begins as you realize that each store carries NOTHING he'd want. It mounts as you come up with a great gift idea only to discover all stores sold out of it a week ago. It culminates as you now pick up the pace and whirl frantically from window to window, trying to convince yourself that he really does need a tie with huge snowflakes printed on them. Take deep breaths to prevent from collapsing into a sobbing mess on the floor. Only when you hit despair can you make yourself go and purchase those damned socks you get every year and not feel bad about it.

At least this is the general pattern I follow every year. Usually culminating over the course of a week as opposed to one night. In the end I have to tell myself that it's the thought that counts. It's the defense of all last-minute shoppers.

Merry Christmas everyone. And realize whatever you get has, if not blood, at least sweat and tears put into it.

Help me...I have a classroom

I think that will be the title of my first novel, should I ever get around to writing one. They really should tell you during teacher training that your first year is going to be a complete gong show. And I only teach in the mornings! How bad is that?

It's been a month and I've gotten to know the kids better but I'm still struggling in the classroom management aspect of things. I pretty much have a whole class of ME at their age. Meaning, talk talk talk. No real behavior issues just constant chattiness.

Aside from chatter, there is also the fact that when it comes to curriculum, I'm a mess. While trying to interpret it, (which I imagine is what decoding Enigma was like), I find myself bouncing back and forth between topics and dragging my students along with me. After a lesson I'll sit and ponder (ie obsess) over what the kids learned, what they were supposed to learn and, of course, what they have yet to learn. What'll inevitably happen is that I'll stare at the curriculum until it resembles a whole pageful of wiggly lines. I think I'm attempting to learn through osmosis.

I've also discovered that the iron-clad memory I used to pride myself on has now vanished. Gone, possibly forever. No sooner do I get a thought in my head, such as I should call this person, or I need to photocopy this, then it mysteriously vanishes into thin air. Occasionally it meanders back when I can no longer do anything about it.

I've learned that students will follow you around like puppies unless you tell them otherwise. Either to have you explain a problem or to praise work that they've done. Let me tell you, their legs are getting a great workout from all the getting up and sitting down they do.

All in all, it's an educational experience to say the least. I have no idea how any given day will go because it depends on they dynamic of the classroom which changes from minute to minute.

I'm too tired to write anymore, hope you're enjoying the holiday spirit so far. I love Christmas.

Papers everywhere!

Well, I think I'm officially losing my head. My Board of Ed sent me two copies of my official contract to be duly signed and witnessed and I've gone and lost them both. Though I did manage to finish filling out the rest of the 40 billion forms they sent along with the contract. Seeing as how the contract was one of the most important things I'm glad I managed to keep all the other inconsequential papers from the package.

In addition to losing my contract, I'm losing my ability to organize. My desk at school really looks like a hurricane hit it. Partly due to the fact that two teachers are struggling to put all their things onto it. I can't seem to remember to nag students for their homework, nor hand back homework that WAS handed in and that I actually marked. I can see myself at the end of the year with 20 binders full of kids' homework that I can sift fondly through during the summer holiday (while I pull obsessively at my hair because I've been reduced to a slobbering mess).

So aside from losing vital documents and neglecting homework, I'm also falling behind on my own schedule. How does this happen? How does my perfectly planned week turn into chaos? Simple, I teach kids. Today my perfectly planned science class took a major cut when we were called down to take class pictures. By the time I got back, I hustled them through the first of 3 worksheets I had intended for them to complete. After I anxiously wringed my hands at the lack of time, I herded them into line and then dumped them into the gym teacher's capable hands.

After a half hour prep where I seemed to be flying around and yet accomplished little, I picked up my class and then shoved them outside for recess. I fiddled with the computer projector, praying for it to work this day. With a scream of joy when I saw the screen flash on I finally sat down and took a sip of water.

For math I'd actually tried to be creative and it paid off by watching my students eagerly get down to work. Strange when just yesterday they'd complained about how boring it was. Little did they know that it was the same work disguised as something fun. Bwa ha ha ha! Unfortunately my evil laughter was short lived as my grade 5's came bustling back into my room because the other teacher had to take her class for photos. Amid a wailing chorus of "I'm finished, what now?" I managed to fire off some questions to keep the 5s busy while juggling my own grade 6's at the same time.

And that was my day at school. It's amazing how quickly the morning will go. It's more amazing how much I've learned just in this first week. What's probably most amazing is that my behaviour problem has toned it down so far this week. I probably speak too soon as I still have tomorrow to get through (Friday is a PD Day, no kids).

Anyhoo, there are my ramblings on that.

Teaching...the first 3 days

I sit in my apartment, knowing that I really should brush my teeth and call it a night but I'm compelled to instead type away at this blog which has been woefully neglected. Whilst I type, I'm wondering how on Earth some people manage to both teach full time and take care of families. I'm teaching part time, my husband is away and I feel like I'm barely functioning. My apartment hasn't been vacuumed in probably 3 weeks (and I can see crumbs on the floor which I think I should pick up and never actually do, how hard is it to stoop down and pick up a friggin' crumb?), my sink is full of dirty dishes, and the bathroom is a mess. And that's just in 3 days! Hmm, I guess I have no excuse on the vacuuming. Not to mention that's also without having assignments or report cards to mark and such.

In 3 days of teaching I have:
1. Told my class to sit down approximately 5 billion times
2. Told my class to quiet down approximately 10 billion times
3. Explained and then re-explained 'factors' in math approximately a million times (an improvement!)
4. Felt that I was being ignored (by my class) at least 70% of the time.
5. Repeated the phrase "I'm waiting until everyone is listening" about twice a minute.
6. Had a successful math class 33% of the time
7. Felt like I wanted to go home and lay prostrate on the couch 100% of the time

Such is the life of a beginning teacher and I only teach part time! If I've discovered anything it's that the loudness of my voice is really a gift and not a curse and that kids are constantly surprising you.

Stay tuned for your next report...

p.s.

Stay tuned for my teaching adventures! To be posted whenever I can tear myself away from planning and marking...

Of Weddings and such

Hmm, I kept meaning to update this thing and I kept not doing it. Until now that is. What happened in bit of time in between? I got married, went on honeymoon, and somehow managed to acquire a teaching job. *gasp*

My wedding day passed in such a blur that by the next morning I still didn't realize what had happened. Movies don't seem to mention the sheer stress involved in getting hitched. From the moment I woke up I felt like someone else. I watched this person get made up, get transported to the venue and then step into this very fancy dress. I then came back into my body only to be a huge bundle of nerves. My hands were sweating and I began to feel like I couldn't breathe. My makeup/hairsylist continually blotted at my face and reapplied lipstick. By the time I was ready to walk down the aisle, I had at least 50 layers of powder and lipstick on my face.

I vaguely remember the wedding ceremony and looking at my oh-so-almost-husband. I remember repeating after the commissioner and then taking photographs. I didn't taste much of my dinner and kind of floated through the rest of the evening. There it was I was married! Do remember this is partly tongue-in-cheek. I was quite happy to be a bride. Just a little dazed by it all.

What does a person do with their wedding dress? Grooms just give back their rented tuxes but a bride usually buys her dress. Mine is hanging forlornly in the closet, neatly covered by plastic and wondering when it'll see the light of day once more. I can't bring myself to tell it it'll never see the light of day again. So I guess it stays in my closet? And thusly moves from closet to closet whenever I change locations? I feel like my dress deserves better treatment than that. Maybe I'll have it bronzed and it can stand regally in the middle of our apartment.

This newly married person is going to sign off now. Hope you're all doing well.

Why I'll never work for a moving company

Hello and I hope all is well with whoever is still checking up on this blog. Since the last time I wrote I've been down to LA, had a lovely reunion with Will and then came back up with him to Calgary via his truck. Since then I don't feel like I've had too much downtime what with trying to get the wedding in order and also trying to furnish the apartment. We've been busy pretty much since we entered Calgary's city limits.

On Saturday we were lucky enough to procure a used but decent looking sofa, loveseat and chair set. Will and the seller loaded it easily enough onto the truck but I eyed the innocent couches with some wariness, knowing that I would have to help Will unload and put it into the apartment. This would further display my utter lack of arm strength.

Once back at the apartment we proceeded to first unload the loveseat, an easy enough task. With some grunting and groaning on my part we got it situated in the living room. The next not-so-easy task was the couch. It didn't want to go in as easily as the loveseat did. No matter how cajoling we were it stubbornly refused to enter the hallway. Fine, whatever. We hoisted it back up the stairs and brought it around to the front entrance instead. This time it managed to fit in the hallway but balked once we tried to push it through the doorway. By this time my arms had turned to jelly and my fingers were red from continually dropping and lifting the damn thing. Will got an earful of my miseries.

Once we realized that the couch wasn't going to budge I got ready to chop it apart while Will, more productively, examined the size of our windows. He concluded that the sofa would fit nicely through them. I looked on sullenly as he pried the panes out, knowing I'd have to use my jelly-like arms once again. The sofa looked on with an evil grin.

I tried to remind myself that this was the last time I'd have to lift the sofa. Unfortunately my arms and hands weren't buying it and Will pretty much fit the sofa in on his own. I contributed a lot of whining and futile hand rubbing.

And this is why I'll never work for a moving company.

Update

The home computer has gone awry. There's some virus that none of my anti-virus or anti-spyware products can detect. This is annoying and happens way too often. Who is it that has so little of a life they resort to creating viruses? Anyone out there know how to get rid of a FakeAlert-B Trojan?

It's very hot in Calgary. Compared to the sticky heat of Japan/Korea it's nothing but for someone who likes winter it's gross. I think I could fry an egg on the tin garbage can outside. I wouldn't really attempt this considering how dirty the garbage can likely is.

I went to a relaxation yoga class today and then fell asleep during the last pose (lying down on your back with eyes closed and breathing in and out in a darkened room). Luckily I wasn't the only one. The two friends I went with woke up later than I did.

I've become addicted to the reality TV show So You Think You Can Dance. I tell myself I watch it purely for the dancing. I think I might by lying to myself.

Well, that's my dull news for now. Stay tuned for more even duller updates! Cheers

Weddings and other stuff

Well, it's again been a shamefully long time since I've updated this thing. Over a month! How time flies...

My wedding to a certain JET participant is approaching and with it the usual phone calls to florists, photographers, videographers, dress alterers, commissioners and whathaveyou. My daytimer is chock full of phone numbers, appointments and post-its detailing what I need to do for the coming week. It's looking rather haggard at the moment.

I've discovered on this path to matrimony that 'wedding' is another word for 'money'. Where a normal cake will cost maybe 20-30 bucks a wedding cake is easily 10 times that amount. More work goes into it but is it REALLY worth that much? I'm expecting the cake to come decorated with priceless diamonds.

On a real-estate note, I've defied Calgary's vacancy rate of 1.1% and managed to rent an apartment in a fairly nice area of the city. So now, I have a place to live. Hooray!

This post isn't that illuminating, and I'm going to blame that on my fatigue. I'll update again when I have something interesting to report!

Winter Sonata

Please note, the following may contain spoilers of KBS' 2002 miniseries, Winter Sonata. Also note that I am kind of enjoying watching it.

After having emphatically stated how I'd never watch a Korean drama called "Gyeoul Yeonga" or Winter Sonata, I bought my mother the DVD set and then it arrived at the house. Having some time on my hands and my curiousity getting the better of me, I popped the first of 6 discs into the DVD player.

And what did I get? A hell of a lot of hair-pulling frustration over the sloooowly unfolding 20 episode MELOdrama. The plot involves too many emotionally unstable people in one social setting. It's a wonder by the end, that they haven't either murdered each other or committed group suicide. Hell, I felt like doing both while watching the damn thing.

Winter Sonata features the notoriously popular Korean actor Bae Yong Joon. Well, popular in Asia anyway. In fact, Mr. Bae is so damn popular in a certain Land where the sun rises that he's earned himself the nickname "Yon-sama" (an honorable way to address a person). Viewing the ubiquitous WS helped me see why this might be. 1. He plays the at times melancholy and at times sunny but always gentle hero. 2. He dresses well. 3. He wears glasses (oh wait, that's just me *sigh*) The exalted Mr. Bae plays Joon Sang, an identity-challenged character that exists merely to be in pain (as one alter ego), and then inadvertenly pain others.

Opposite ol' Yon-sama is Choi Ji Woo. She plays Yoojin, Joon Sang's star crossed lover. A girl who has somehow managed to come off as strong and pathetically weak at the same time. The majority of her screen time is spent looking dejectedly at her hands. Sometimes she cries, sometimes she takes soulful strolls in the snow. Lots of times she's being saved from a sticky situation by our faithful hero. And sometimes, just sometimes, she does all 4. It's hard to cry, stare at your hands, wade through snow and be heroically saved at the same time. Though I can pull it off beautifully.

The snowy drama features other key players. The high moral character of Sang Hyuk, who's been in love with Yoojin since he was in his mother's womb, then tries to prove his love by first trying to rape her and then, trying to force her to marry him. Ah the sweet romance of it all.

Then comes Chelin, a clingy whiner and one of few characters who can cry more than one tear at a time (honestly, for most the eyes start welling and then one, ONE decorative dainty tear will fall). She tries to win our moodily sunny hero's heart by continually showing up unannounced, clinging needily to his arm and telling him lies. Who wouldn't be won over by such enticing wiles?

Lest I forget other main character of Winter Sonata. The scarf. Indeed the drama could easily have been called Winter Scarf. I've never seen quite so many scarves tied in so many interesting and innovative ways. Particularly around the attractive necks of our two snow floundering mains. Really I was very impressed. The scarves often usurped the actors. I found that my attention was often drawn to the scarves, their colour, length, style. I was often more anxious to see what scarf Yon-sama would choose to wear and how he would tie it, rather than whether he would win the girl. It was hard not to pay attention to them, since half the time they were looped around the actors necks so much it looked not only bulky but like it was cutting off air.

I won't spoil the ending of this glorious show of self torture and near mutilation. I haven't even finished it myself. I just forced my mother to tell me so I could be relieved of pulling out my own hair and screaming at the TV. Koreans love a good show of sadistic masochism. Or masochistic sadism. By watching those on screen run around with pained expressions we can feel better about our own relatively uneventful lives.

Home Again

In an effort to not fall asleep and totally screw up my sleep schedule, I'm attempting to stay awake until midnight. A hardy feat considering I slept a total of maybe 1 hour in the last day.

After 3 buses and 3 planes I've finally arrived back in Calgary, where there are blue skies and lots of greenery (for Calgary, this is strange). It looks like my bags vomited all over the floor but I'll worry about that tomorrow.

The only potential mishap I ran into was JAL telling me the weight restriction was actually set at 20kg, as opposed to the 32kg I thought it was. I was ready to cause a scene since my bag was placidly sitting on a scale that pronounced it to be 31.7kg. Thankfully, after some conversation, the baggage agent told me it was ok this time. When did they change their regulations? It was alright when I left Canada.

Oi, going to force one of my family members to talk to me so I don't go to bed. You'll hear from me soon.

Korea Redux and Australia

For the final holiday I will have before I leave Japan, Will and I ventured to familiar territory and, conversely, completely unfamiliar territory. Korea and Australia respectively. Korea I actually can't say much about. I already lived there for over a year and I saw nothing new. I did see a lot of my friends which was great and I ate tons of Korean food. From the ever-traditional, spicy kimchi-jigae to a strange Koreanized version of supposedly Chinese noodles, ja-jang-myun. Excuse my romanization. I'm not even sure how the last one is written in Korean.I was beyond happy to land in Australia. For one thing, the skies were a gorgeous blue without a cloud in sight and, zero humidity. The other more important thing was that I could talk and be easily understood. Not to mention I could easily understand what people said to me. This after living in Korea where I could understand but speak like a 2 year old and Japan where I can't understand anything and remain virtually mute. My own fault as I haven't taken the time to learn the language.After my initial euphoria over being able to talk subsided, I realized how tired I was after a nearly 10 hour, red-eye flight where I hardly slept. Thankfully, the hotel checked us in ridiculously early whereupon we immediately crashed for 3 hours.

Sydney, to me, is quite similar to Vancouver. Vancouver with an accent. It’s a fairly laid-back city, bordering the sea and with a good transportation system. I had some pronunciation problems, with Circular Quay and Bondi Beach. Quay is “key” and Bondi is “bond-eye”. Australian money I found to be confusing based on its size. The smallest coin is the 5 cent piece. The 2 dollar coin is smaller than the 1 dollar and the enormous 50 cent piece overwhelms all the other coins put together. The bills are made of plastic with parts that are completely clear. Americans are likely taken by the colourfulness but we Canadians already know the value of rainbow-coloured money.

Sydney City Rail trains have one simple innovation lacking from all other large cities in the world. They have two levels of seating available. Even during rush hour, most people are able to find a seat because of this. The first time I got onto one I was so impressed I wanted to run up and down the stairs to try out both levels. Ferries are also part of Sydney’s transportation network. On a day pass you could take as many buses, trains and ferries as you pleased.

Major Sydney sights (according to Yuri and Will) included the usual Sydney Opera House, Bondi and other various beaches, Sydney Harbour and the Royal Botanical Gardens. I dragged Will to a ballet performance of “Giselle” at the Opera House. I was enthralled but I’m not sure he was.

I enjoyed Australia but it was perhaps too close to Canada. Nothing seemed different enough to really write about. Just another western country.

The next time I write will probably be from Calgary. Looking forward to seeing you all!

Japanese Wedding Dress

Will's BOE asked if we wanted to have wedding photos taken, in traditional Japanese style. We both thought this would be a very interesting thing to take part in, and as I love dressing up, we agreed.

Upon arriving in the photo studio, we were ushered upstairs and given the usual complementary coffee and sweets. After sipping and munching for about 10 minutes, the wardrobe lady arrived, bearing rather large cases in hand. An excited Yuri was taken into the dressing room.

Let me tell you, I very much admire Japanese ladies of long ago who had to wear fancy kimono on a daily basis, or at all. The bride's regalia includes the shiro-maku, a white kimono worn during the ceremony, and the uchikake, an elaborately coloured and embroidered brocade coat worn over the shiro-maku during the reception.

First, I had to don a light, simple robe that tied around the waist. Then I was sat down at a small makeup table and my hair was skinned back into a net so that a wig could later be fitted over it. Then my face, neck, upper back and hands were painted a sort of pale peach. After that came the under kimono, or hiyoku.

At this point, I did nothing but stand with my arms out to the side. The hiyoku was heavy enough in itself, with a stiff collar and long sleeves. The lady tied it around my waist then started to add all sorts of padding to my chest, waist and back. To keep this padding in place, she draped a sort of bib around my chest and back which velcroed to security. Once this was done, the real kimono was put on me, this one even heavier than the hiyoku. More tying and padding followed, then a cover, meant to be the obi (the main sash tied around the waist) was tied around the waist and gave one the charming feeling of being suffocated. This must be what corsets felt like. The knot of the obi was placed on my back and it was heavy. I can't imagine what it would've felt like to have the full length of a real obi tied around my waist and knotted at my back.

I was asked to sit again, but had to wait for someone to carry my dress while I waddled over to the stool. The wardrobe lady untied two more cases which opened to show elaborate wigs in traditional Japanese hairstyle, known was bunkin takashimada. I can only explain it as consisting of lots of puffs and wax. The first wig was too small and caused some whimpering and twitching on my part. The second was a little too big but no one could tell. Once secured, hair ornaments were slipped in it looked great. Or as great as it could on my rather round face. However I now know why Japanese ladies might've looked demurely at the ground while they walked. It wasn't subservience, no, it was that they had a veritable anvil to balance on their heads and the only way to feel comfortable was to look at the ground.

I was helped up and waited for the lady to gather my skirts before I could walk to the photo room. There, to my delight and dismay (its heavy and hot!), the beautiful uchikake, was put over my 2 layers of robes. More hair ornaments followed. I looked like someone else entirely. In full bridal costume I couldn't draw a deep breath, and my neck and back were starting to ache. How brides could/can walk around all day in this garb is beyond me. I myself couldn't walk without help (meaning someone picking up my skirt) and even then the kimono restricted the movement of my legs so that I walked like a toddler. But it was good fun to be dressed and made up. Kind of makes you feel like a princess. Kind of also makes you feel sorry for said princesses.

I'd estimate that I took about an hour to get ready. Will took about 10 minutes. I also discovered that wedding photos actually mean photos of the bride. The man is shifted in occasionally but just as soon shooed away so that more solitary photos of a fabulously adorned woman can be snapped. Will referred to himself as a kind of "garnish" to my photographs. He'd have to wait while I was posed then two women would work to place my skirts, sleeves, head and hands just so. When this was done, he could step in.

The men dress in a kind of "tuxedo" kimono called haori-hakama. This consists of blue and white striped pants and then a black, gold-dotted formal long robe on top (not huge polka dots, small evenly-spaced dots). A white, feathery ball is hung between the lapels of the robe, the meaning of which eludes me. Unfortunately, I only have a picture of me available which accompanies this post.

I thoroughly enjoyed the experience but am glad I only have to do it once! Cheers all.

p.s. For some photos that white cloth you see was draped over my hair. It's called the tsuno kakushi. It was meant to symbolize "obedience" during the wedding ceremony. Heh heh, right.

And I'm off...for vacation

Hey all, I'm off to the "Land of the Morning Calm" (Korea) and the "Land Down Under" for the next 2 weeks.

I will post when I return. Hopefully with pictures. Cheers all.

Argh

If anyone knows how to align blog posts properly please let me know. I don't know why that last post keeps coming out all wonky.

I've lived in Japan now for almost 9 months. And what have I gained during this time? Here is my top 10. (note: the following list is very trite)

1. I finally, after months of hoping I'd never have to touch one again, learned to drive a stick shift. Although most people rave over and profess great love for a manual car, I see it as a lot of unecessary extra work. I am a lazy being.

2. I learned to say "I can't speak Japanese" in Japanese. Watashi wa nihongo de hanashimasen. Very useful, particularly when you look no different than
the natives.

3. I also learned to say "I'm Canadian" (Watashi wa Ca-na-da jin desu) and a
very sloppy way of explaining my parents are Korean. I used this phrase to
prevent the locals from thinking I am mentally challenged.

4. I perfected the art of looking confused and bewildered whenever anyone attempted to speak to me in Japanese. To accomplish this, simply widen your eyes and then furrow your brow. Follow this by shaking your head while apologizing (either in Japanese or your native tongue). I began inadvertently studying this craft in China and have worked extensively at improving it during my Asian travels.

5. I learned to read Hiragana and Katakana. I would describe Hiragana as the curvaceous alphabet. Katakana is it's rather angular sister. As with many siblings, while there are differences, you can tell they're related.

6. I developed an unhealthy negative attitude towards Kanji, a distant relative to both Hiragana and Katakana. Kanji is a tease, sometimes enticingly simple and yet disturbingly complex.

7. I've become increasingly fond of Japanese fashion. I find myself wanting to wear multiple layers, perforated pastel-coloured mules, insanely uncomfortable stiletto heels, brightly coloured striped knee-socks, long shirts that could double as dresses, and arm warmers. I mean c'mon, arm warmers?? I bought three pairs!

8. I discovered I don't like udon. This is a great tragedy since udon shops are a dime a dozen here and the cheapest meal to be had. I've tried on numerous occasions to reconcile myself to the thick-noodle-in-fish-broth mixture but to no avail. I just don't enjoy.

9. I can now waste countless minutes rifling through the menus on my cell phone. Exactly what new thing I think I'm going to discover after 6 months is
beyond me but I still do it.

10. That better sushi is to be had in Vancouver. Admittedly I haven't tasted too much sushi here, being rather pricey, but what I've had wasn't anything to write home about. I actually look forward to eating at Sushi Boat in Calgary again. It's too fun to watch the endless line of boats float by, holding various pieces of sushi.

Cram Schools and Kaiyo Academy

The past 3 years of my life have been split living between Canada, China, Korea and Japan. In China, I taught at a university. In Korea and Japan I taught at a hagwon and juku respectively. Both are the country's names for "cram school".

Today I read an article about a new elite private school, for junior high/high school students, opening in Japan. It is meant for the cultivation of future leaders. The school, Kaiyo Academy, is apparently fashioned after Britain's Eton, but the strictly regimented schedule makes one wonder what the students are going to gain, aside from a penchant for punctuality. Classes are naturally scheduled, but so are free time, reading materials, phone calls and the like. Video games, comic books and bicycles are prohibited. I was confused as to exactly why bicycles weren't allowed but I'm not a school official. Perhaps riding a bike fosters bad behaviour. Kaiyo Academy is meant as an expensive alternative to both public and cram schools. Now the two are blended nicely together for the ultimate in time-crunching, educational achievement. The cost to send a child there is 3 million yen per year. That's around 30,000 CDN.

For those of you unfamiliar with the cram school system, it is an after school school. Kind of like tutoring centers in Canada except they can be much more rigid. In Korea I taught at an English hagwon, that specialized in students that had previously lived in an English speaking country for a minimum of one year. So, I was spoiled as an English teacher since almost all my students could easily converse with me and could read and write English to boot. My English juku in Japan didn't boast the same standards but had the same philosophy. Which was: Teach the kids as much English as possible in the time allowed.

Public schools, in both Korea and Japan, end around 3pm, sometimes earlier for the lower grades. Afterwards, it is common for many children to be bundled off, either by bus, car or bicycle to a cram school. Be it for English, math, social studies or the like. It's also common for students to stay at one or other cram school virtually ALL evening. Many of my students were frequently late to class because they had to come running for another school. Often they also looked bone-tired but would try to stay awake and alert for class.

The reason for cram schools is the overwhelming pressure and competition that surrounds getting into a good university. All families want to be able to brag that their child attends or attended (either tense is fine) the greatest university in the country. The top universities in Korea and Japan respectively, are Seoul and Tokyo. For my father's generation, if you went to Seoul University you were made for life. I assume the situation would've been similar for Tokyo. Entrance examinations for universities are cut-throat operations. If you failed, you didn't get in and had to wait another year before trying again. Then there was the whole dishonoring and shaming your family thing. Failure is not acceptable in any form. Failing means you don't respect all your family has done for you nor do you respect yourself. You didn't try hard enough. Suicide rates among students usually rise during entrance examination season. Thus, in order to lower the chance of failure, students are sent to cram schools.

I'm just glad that I was brought up in a country where the education system is a little more lax. I can't imagine spending every waking moment of my teenage years studying.

Tokyo again

Now that I've got my bearings and have organized most of what needs to be organized (flight home, soon-to-be-trip, additional inconsequential details) I can now write about what else I saw in Tokyo.

Our first day in, with the extra early arrival of 6:30am, due to the overnight bus schedule, we wandered around, bleary eyed, sleepy, and wondering what the hell to do with ourselves for the next 10 hours or so (as this is when we could check into our hotel). Nothing was open, hardly any shops, restaurants or museums. The subway, if nothing else, was up and running so we hopped on and then hopped off at Ueno Station. This lead to Ueno Park.

At Ueno Park, the sakura trees or cherry blossoms, were in full bloom. They were beautiful to look at but the scenic view was ruined by the huge amounts of blue tarp underneath. The first weekend in April gave way to tons of hanami, or cherry blossom viewing parties. This means groups of people stake out spots underneath the trees, usually with tarp or newspaper, and then proceed to drink and eat, ALL day long. A few hardy souls were already camped out before 7am. They'd probably been there all night to save their coveted places. That early in the morning, there were only handfuls of people there. However, later on, after we'd eaten breakfast and taken a tour of Tokyo National Museum, the crowds were horribly oppressive. I've never seen so many people literally pouring out of a station and into a park before. Even though I was still outdoors the amount of people began to feel suffocating. I wanted to run and hide. So, we left.

Around 3 in the afternoon I began to grow weary of the constant crowds and of being on my feet. We decided it was close enough to the time of check-in so we ventured back to the hotel. We were 20 minutes early and asked to wait until it was exactly 4pm. If there's one thing I've discovered about Japan it's that they are extremely punctual. We checked in and I fell asleep for a good hour and a half.

Once up again we headed off to Shinjuku, the young party area of Tokyo. With all the lights and huge monitors, it looks similar to Broadway in New York. After wandering around the decent part of town, we started looking for Kabuki-cho, or the red-light district. Why is it that the seamy, seedy parts of town are always so much more interesting to go to?

Kabuki-cho is made up of rows upon rows of hostess clubs/bars. Meaning a place where only Japanese men can go to "relax". Walking around you could sometimes see some scantily clad women bidding a man farewell in front of the club. There were a fair number of host clubs as well. Though the men advertised on the billboards were rather effeminate in looks. What is with the hair here? It looks like they shocked themselves with electricity and then patted it down before leaving the house. Oddly, we also found a good number of Korean restaurants in Kabuki-cho. Meaning that Koreans find a good living in the red-light district perhaps?

The first day Will followed me to Harajuku and then I duly followed him to Akihabara, the electronics district of Tokyo. Here there are a great number of buildings whose entire floors are devoted to cameras, computers, cell phones, walkmans, mp3 players, video games and etc. Will was in heaven but I could feel my eyes glazing over within 10 minutes of a video game hunt. On a later day we returned to Akihabara, but this time to visit a Maid Cafe. What is this you ask? It's odd but this is a cafe where girls dress up like maids. Sometimes with bunny or cat ears on their heads. There is a sitting fee and the prices for drinks and food are about what you'd expect at a bar. You can choose to play a game with a maid for 3min for the bargain price of 500yen (5 dollars). Once an hour the lights would dim and the maids would engage the audience to play a variation of "rock paper scissors". The winner won some gold memento coins of the cafe. I believe they sing on occasion as well. Some cafe's cater more to manga readers and the girls will dress up like some famous manga characters. The one we were at seemed to be a standard Maid Cafe.

The last thing I'll write about is the Meguro Parasite Museum. I had heard about this from a friend and it came so highly recommended I couldn't pass up a chance to see it. I don't think I've ever seen so much information about parasites in one place before. The museum consisted of two floors in a modest looking building. Both floors held various jars of parasites preserved in solution. The second floor was more traumatic with the pictures of what certain parasites could do to the human body. There was also an 8.8m tapeworm, taken from a human male, incased in glass. Next to it was a length of rope, cut to 8.8m that you could unravel to see in all its lengthy glory. Also on display was a dolphin heart ridden with pinworms. It was truly disgusting. The gift shop on the 2nd floor had an English booklet explaining the displays, which Will and I avidly read to see what we had missed. I started feeling a little queasy as the booklet went into great detail about the effects of parasites. One particular fact that was great to read was people often don't realize they have a tapeworm until they seeing it hanging out after going #2. Both of us left the museum feeling as though we should go straight to the doctor to get checked out.

I had a great time in Tokyo and even relished taking the subway/trains. I guess it was just the accessibility that I missed. You can jump onto the train and go somewhere interesting. This isn't as easily done in the inaka unless you own a car.

I set my return date!

To all the Calgarians out there. I finally booked my flight home. I'm back on May 21st! I'm really looking forward to seeing everyone!

Tokyo - Starring Harajuku

Last Friday found Will and myself waiting at for an overnight bus by Tokushima Station. I had just finished my last day of work and was pretty damn excited about going somewhere and relaxing. It duly arrived and we boarded. I was interested to see that there were bottles of green tea supplied as well as pillows and blankets. Once the bus was really on its way, we were required to pull the curtains closed and all the lights were turned off. This,coupled with the rather intense heat, created something of a feeling of claustrophobia but otherwise, all was good.

On Sunday, we hopped onto the infallible JR Yamanote line (it goes to all major Tokyo hotspots) and headed to Harajuku where we had read girls of questionable fashion tastes congregated. They are known as the Coz-play-zoku (Costume play gang). After walking through a long street lined with shops and boutiques (I starry-eyed, Will blank-eyed). We came across jingu-bashi and one of strangest sights I have ever seen in my life. All long the bridge sat/stood groups of girls garbed in a bizarre variety of clothing. Maid outfits, huge platform knee-high boots, goth-like makeup, the works. As I walked around I saw a number of tourists, all looking exactly as I felt. Astonished and bewildered with cameras in hand. I must've stayed on the bashi (bridge) for a good half hour just staring, open-mouthed like a yokel.

The next day I returned to Harajuku (while Will shopped in Akihabara the electronics district), not to stare but to shop. And what did I end up buying? Socks, and lots of them. Striped, glittery, and plain, knee-high socks. I also bought arm-warmers, skirts and extremely long pearl beads. When am I ever going to wear all these things? No bloody clue but it sure was fun buying it all! I also snacked on crepes. There must've been at least 10 crepe vendors on the one street alone.

I hope to write about other spots we saw in Tokyo but knowing me I might not get around to it. Hope you're all enjoying yourselves.

Adventures in Sumo

I found out, a little late, on the local chat forum here that the annual trek to Osaka would be happening in order to catch a Sumo tournament. A group of us decided to drive the distance in order to watch portly men tussle with one another while wearing a uniform that closely resembled a thong. But more about that later.

We woke up at the decent hour of 3am and were off by 3:30. Surprisingly, none of us fell asleep during the 3 hour drive to Osaka. After passing by the actual building where the tickets were being sold and then getting lost for 40 minutes, we eventually made our way back to where we had already been and got our free-seating tickets.

A group of us then ventured to the fabled "Spa World". Basically a fancy, multiple pool onsen which features massages and a waterpark on the very top floor. Onsen floors are divided according to sex. Men on one and women on the other. On our floor they had a nifty "relaxation room" where you could don an alluring pink shift, wrap a bright orange towel around your wet hair and lie down on a reclining chair. Then, because you're so relaxed from the entire hot onsen pool experience, you inevitably fall asleep. One of the stranger experiences of this onsen is sitting with your friends around a table in a cafe, drinking water and chatting. Strange because the group of you are in nothing but your birthday suits, as are the other customers in the room.

Back to sumo. We meandered back, skin suitably reddened from the onsen, took our seats, and hunkered down to watch some Japanese wrestling. Sumo wrestlers go through a series of ceremonial motions that last longer than the actual bout. It includes the famous(?) lifting/stretching of the legs and sprinkling salt in the ring to purify it. The two opponents then face each other, posed to fight, then back off. This happens about three times before they actually fight. Apparently during these numerous face-offs, one opponent will occasionally "psych-out" the other. You can tell this has happened when the audience cheers and claps. I personally had absolutely no idea when the psych-outs happened or who was the psycher and who was the psychee. It was explained to me that only the Japanese can tell.

One of the more interesting displays during the afternoon was watching the yokozuna, or top-ranked wrestler, perform a traditional ceremonial dance/series of movements. (It looked like a dance to me) It's as an elaborate a display as any you'll see. In the picture, the middle wrestler is the yokozuna.

We watched until the last match where the yokozuna fought. It was the one all the audience had been waiting for and I would say that it delivered on expectations. Obviously, I had none, being a first time viewer. I would recommend that any visitor to Japan try to catch a match.

Spring

The advent of spring brings all sorts of nice and happy things with it. Flowers, green grass, leaves on trees, frolicking animals... One of the happiest of spring things is POLLEN. Yes, it's that time of year when trees and plants are budding and sending their 'dust' out into the open air. And, consequently, right up my nose. It doesn't matter which country I'm in or what the vegetation, I get hayfever like clockwork.

On Thursday night I realized it must truly be spring because I was having sneezing fits. Meaning I'd sneeze about 5-6 times in succession and then be left with the wild desire to rip off my nose. This charming display continued into the next day by the end of which I sounded as if I'd never learned to pronounce words properly. Not that anyone could really understand since I'd interrupt myself in order to make room for a sneezing fit.

I remembered to bring some allergy medication with me but the directions warn of taking more than one pill a day. So, once I've taken that one, and experienced the rather brief relief of it, I stare sullenly at the box pretty much waiting until I can take the next one. I also stare sullenly at people who don't suffer from this affliction. Namely my fiance. In addition to my angry looks, he's also privy to my constant carping and complaining about how bad I feel (and this on top of constant oh-so-seductive nose-blowing and coughing). He has a rocking good time.

And that's the end. Cheers all.

Jam and cars

It's the return of the sporadic blogger! What will she do this time?

This morning, as I was getting breakfast together for myself, I took out the jam from the fridge. Upon opening said jar I noticed a slight, shall we say, discoloration on the top of it. There were 2 spots of discoloration to be precise. The jam was starting to mold. I've never encountered moldy jam before. And back home we keep the jam in the fridge FOREVER. I don't know if the ingredients of jam are different here or if our fridge just plain sucks. Probably the latter. Yuck.

On a completely different note, I thought I'd write about the interior decoration of cars here in Japan. Since I drive so bloody much and could probably now make my way to the city blindfolded, I look at the cars around me while enroute. The interior of my car is starkly bare. Particularly since the ceiling was stripped of its lining and now only has bits of gluey sponge dotting it. However other cars see no need to always be in their birthday suits. Some cars are lined with Pooh Bears, and I mean LINED. They clamour on the dashboard, they crowd the back windows, and sometimes they wave cheerfully from the seatbelts. Other cars have Hello Kitty similarly vying for space. And still others have, well, it looks like they killed a goat and laid its fur across the dashboard.

For cars with a manual transmission, the stick has sometimes been altered. They take the conventional black knob with the numbers off and replace it with this funky, psychedelic, iridescently clear plastic...shaft. It's really quite attractive and makes me wish I had one for my car. While some drivers have to reach down for the gear shift, other drivers have solved that annoying need by putting so many attachments onto the stick that the thing now is level with their shoulders. I don't know if that might make the ride a little more dangerous or not.

I will write again whenever I see something of interest.

Eyo Hadaka Matsuri - Naked Man Festival

Over the past weekend, I had the pleasure to take in a matsuri (festival) known as Eyo Hadaka or Naked Man. This event took place in Okayama with the festivities beginning around 7:30pm. First, a little background.

The Eyo Hadaka began in the 1500s when priests gave out amulets to coincide with the lunar new year. The amulets became popular and were coveted for their good fortune. In order to better distribute the amulets the priests moved to the balcony where they could toss the sought-after item to the crowd below. The amulet switched to a pair of wooden sticks called shingi. And then, it evolved into what I saw last night, which I will now try to describe.

I inadverdently volunteered Will to run in this festival. I had little to no idea of what it entailed except that he would be nearly naked and running around in cold weather with a bunch of other near-naked men. I duly booked a hotel room and then we organized ourselves to get to Okayama (a 2 and a half hour drive away). We arrived with little incident and were loaded onto spectator and runner buses.

Once in the vicinity of the temple the runners were herded off to change into their fundoshi (a cloth covering the groin area, similar to what you see Sumo wrestlers wear) and tabi (ankle socks with a defined toe). This was all the clothing the participating men were permitted to wear during the festivities. Yesterday evening the temperature hovered somewhere near 0 degrees celsius. Once properly garbed, the men sort of half-jogged down a small street leading to the temple gates continually chanting: "Wasshoi! Wasshoi!" which I was told meant "I'm strong/healthy/happy."

Once through the gates, the men were required to run around the temple 3 times. Included in this circuit was a refreshing run through an icy cold fountain. They came out soaking wet and then jogged up the steps of the main pavilion where they stood chanting for a little while before jogging back down the steps to repeat the torture. Around 11:30pm the men started jockeying for position in the main pavilion. Bascially the men were smushed together so that they hardly had enough room to breathe comfortably. A lot of pushing seemed to be involved and, periodically, an avalanche of men would tumble down the stairs. From my vantage point what I saw was a rather large grouping of back, behinds and legs all scrambling and moving, either to get closer to where the shingi would be dropped or merely in a vain attempt to keep warm. From the center of this sardine-like gathering emitted a cloud of steam, created solely by the heat of the mens' bodies.

Promptly at midnight the lights were turned off and the shingi dropped. The lights came back on and the spectators witness an undignified struggle to grab hold of the shingi. I have no idea who managed to get them and have no idea how anyone could tell what happened in the melee. In about 10-15 min it was all over. The Eyo Hadaka was finished until next year.

Once I met back up with Will, he told me it was a great cultural experience but one he likely wouldn't repeat. I suppose it would be hard to try and recreate the first time of running around in a g-string, willingly dunking yourself in freezing water, getting crushed with throngs of other naked men, and frantically chasing two sticks.

Though I could no longer feel my feet by night's end, I have to say I thoroughly enjoyed the festival. You couldn't pull off something like this back in North America let me tell you. Cheers all.

Twins

I had the pleasure of teaching 2 new additions to a class of mine. And I had the worst time getting their names straight. Why? They looked exactly alike. I've never actually met a pair of identical twins before and the experience, while novel, was somewhat frustrating.

The two had the same hairstyle, nearly the same expression and, unfortunately, the almost the same clothing. The one difference was, one wore a black shirt underneath his vest and one wore a brown one. Nevertheless, I still kept screwing up their names. They had to keep correcting me though I think it started to amuse them that I was having such trouble trying to identify them from each other. By the end of class I'd figured identical twins should have identical names if for no other reason than to make my life easier.

I just fear that they'll be wearing exactly the same clothing for the next class.

Squatters

Not the most refined of topics but I thought I'd take the time to write about a style of toilet that has haunted my Asian travels. I call them squatters, I have no idea what the proper terminology would be for them. Any of you that have done some traveling will know what I'm talking about.

This style of toilet is situated in the ground. Really, it's quite a space saver. No need for all that extra porcelain to fashion out a seat. Another benefit is that it works out your legs. In order to use a squatter one needs to position their feet on either side of the toilet and then, well, squat. Make sure you're in a relatively comfortable position or you'll have a hell of a time getting back on your feet. People who have a poor sense of balance won't enjoy the experience.

The first time I was lucky enough to encounter a squatter was in Korea. We were at a highway rest stop and these were the only option. For someone who had only ever vaguely heard of the existence of these toilets, I viewed them with some apprehension. Which way to face? Where's the flush handle? (in one country I spent a good 5 minutes searching for a way to flush before finally realizing it didn't come with that option) For the uninitiated, you face the hood. The majority are perfectly clean and sanitary. I've gotten used to them but really, I merely tolerate their existence.

Someone once told me she thinks the best way to judge a country's modernity factor is by looking at the state and condition of the toilets. And you know what? You kind of can. Though I can't quite imagine seeing a headline reading: "2006 World Toilet Survey announces Switzerland is the best place to live, 4th year running."

Hey! This was my 50th post!

Construction

One of the more puzzling things I've seen since coming to Japan is the seemingly endless construction work. On one of the local roads within my town the construction has been going on since November of last year and they're STILL at it! All this road work seems to have led nowhere. The street is in even worse condition than when they started what with the bumps and potholes that have magically appeared within it.On the 192, the road most used to get to Tokushima City from our end of Shikoku, construction decoratively dots the road, creating the need to detour into the oncoming lane. The 192 consists of a whopping 2 lanes so detours mean long waits while one lane is allowed to proceed. Depending on the time of day that you're traveling, the waits can be more frequent.  The strange thing about all this is that they seem to be tearing and ripping apart perfectly fine roads, in order to repave and repaint the roads to a beautiful hue.  They are still reconstructing a 1km stretch of road that was just fine as it was but now the road is made up of strips of faded gray asphalt to startlingly new, black asphalt.

Another thing about construction is that it seems to be a “make-work” program for the Japanese.  A length of 300-500m features bright flashy lights, akin to what you would see in Las Vegas as well as at least 7 workers.  3 of these workers carry either white and red flags or a flashing red baton.  Their job is primarily to guide traffic on either side of the yellow line.  This is fine when the stretch of road is long but when it isn’t it hardly seems necessary to have that many people frantically waving white flags to tell you, yes, you can drive through.  

People are also employed in large parking lots to guide traffic out.  This seems like a nice gesture but for this Canadian who has managed to get out of sizable parking lots all on her lonesome, the attention is more annoying.  You aren’t allowed to leave until these baton-holding officials give you the go ahead.  They seem to think you need an awful lot of room to make a simple turn.  I was made to wait and wait while several good chances went by.  In the end I was ready to run over these men, while screaming with impatience.

It makes you wonder, isn’t there somewhere else all this funding for construction could be spent?  Rather than needlessly repaving roads and having 3 people tell you you’re allowed to drive?    Maybe it’s just me.

Kyoto

Hi all, I'm on an unexpected break at work. A student canceled and now I have an extra hour and a half to fiddle around with. So, I'll try and finish my blogs about the vacation. On to Kyoto...

Before coming to Japan, I really wanted to see Kyoto. Why? Well, a kind of stupid reason but I had read "Memoirs of a Geisha" and then later, "Geisha of Gion" (do you see a trend here?) and I wanted to see where all these things took place. That and Kyoto is reputed to be a place of historical and natural beauty so there you go.

The drive from Himeji to Kyoto took about half a day. Kyoto roads weren't quite as congested as I'd thought they'd be. It took some maneuvering on small alley roads but we eventually found the ryokan where we'd made a reservation to stay. A ryokan is a Japanese style inn. I found it to be like a Japanese style hostel with more room space and amenities. The washrooms are shared as is the shower/bath. The bath is the fun part. They prepare it for you and call when it's ready. Always soap and rinse yourself off thoroughly before stepping into a Japanese bath. It's not meant for scrubbing. But I'm getting off topic.

The lady was very welcoming and showed us to our room then served us tea and a snack afterwards. After drinking, eating and examining the bath robes that were laid on the futons for our use, we headed out to explore Kyoto at night. Basically we had dinner and tooled around this enormous shopping area. My city-starved self was overwhelmed at all the consumer goods. I wanted to buy everything.

Highlights of Kyoto for me included seeing Gion (the setting of the aforementioned books) and the Golden Pavilion. Gion is part modern night-life and part traditional tea-house. The north side of Gion sports expensive coffee shops, neon lights promoting bars and a lot of well dressed people milling around. The south side is much darker though not creepily so. The streets where the more traditional ochaya (teahouses) are are much less busy than modern Gion. Apparently, you can't even get into a teahouse unless invited by an already established customer. A night in a teahouse includes entertainment by geisha or geikos and usually a very expensive sumptuous meal. From what I've read these parties can cost well in excess of 2000 dollars. A bit too pricey for fun in my opinion. Give me ramen and an 18 dollar movie and I'm happy.

I spotted who I thought was a geisha while roaming around the teahouses. Her hair was done up in a traditonal style and she wore a kimono under her long winter cloak. What did I do after spotting said geisha? The intelligent foreigner thing to do of course, I stalked her, dragging my companions along with me. We could only follow so far as she ducked into a teahouse where we were unable to go. That was my excitement in Gion.

The following day, we took our little Minica and went to Kinkakuji which literally translates to "Golden Temple" but is better known to English speakers as the Golden Pavilion. The entry fee was 400 yen and worth every penny in my opinion. The temple is situated on a very peaceful zen-like pond with very lush trees surrounding it. The temple itself is...GOLD. Not entirely gold but a good portion of it is modeled in gold. After taking various shots of the temple you could walk on the path up to a small but pretty waterfall. Further still you could fall prey to the souvenir stands selling all sorts of knick-knacks. This I did quite gleefully, having been rather prudent with my cash up till then.

The remainder of the trip involved a lot of driving (back to Shikoku) and falling asleep only to be startled into wakefulness by Will's voice saying: "Uh, I need to know where I'm going now." (I was the navigator, being the passenger) We celebrated the New Year quietly at home which was nice since we hadn't been able to be together the year before.

Talk to you all soon, cheers.

Kure, Hiroshima and Himeji

Sorry 'bout the lack of updates folks (for those of you who are following this blog). I started one about the winter vacation, copied the text then deleted it only to find I couldn't seem to paste what I'd copied. Argh! So I'm starting from scratch again.

My winter holiday began on Dec.23, or the Emperor's Birthday which a national holiday here. On Christmas Eve Will and I set out on the road in our little, yet trusty kei car to Kure (a 30 min train ride from Hiroshima). No, I didn't choose Kure for the hell of it, I have friends who live there. What would've been a 3 hour drive back in Canada took almost 6 here. For one thing, the car can't go over 80km/h comfortably for more than 10 minutes and for another traffic is slllooooww. At one point we gave up the non-toll, but non-moving, highway in favor of the zippiness of the rather pricey expressway.

Once in Kure, we met up with my friends, ate dinner, exchanged presents, slept and woke up bright and early to meet another friend in Hiroshima. Once altogether, we had a healthy McDonald's breakfast then set off for Peace Memorial Park, the site of the A-bomb dome. This structure survived the point-blank blast though a lot of the walls were seared off. It was strange to be looking at a building destroyed the way it was. Basically parts of it just melted away.

The A-bomb dome is located in Peace Memorial Park which also houses the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum. This museum details the creation of Hiroshima as a city as well as the creation of "Little Boy" better known as the atomic bomb. Hiroshima was one of four possible target sites, all candidates being more or less intact unlike other air-raid ravaged cities. Why choose a city that's intact? To observe the effects of course. Kind of like a deadly, huge-scale science experiment. Other sections of the museum showed pictures of the after-effects on humans and objects. A particularly affecting picture shows a watch, frozen at 8:15, the time the atomic bomb detonated above Hiroshima. I won't go into details about the pictures of human suffering. All I can say is there was worse shown in the War Crimes Museum in Ho Chi Minh.

The rest of Hiroshima was walking and taking in a few gardens and one rather mundane castle. (I think I've seen too many Asian castles). The next day we spent in Kure relaxing before taking off for Himeji, famous for its enormous castle, which even this jaded viewer enjoyed.

Himeji Castle is big, even as castles go. One of our first stops was Princess Sen's Quarters. This Princess was first married at 7 to a guy who off and committed suicide. She then met and married the love of her life, Honda Tadatoki and lived in Himeji Castle.

Although the rooms were large and the Princess pretty much had use of the entire building, I couldn't help thinking that, with the bars on the windows and soldiers keeping watch at intermittent posts, it would've been more like living in a glorified prison. The main tower was interesting. Six stories tall and each successive story is smaller than the one beneath it. The bottom floor's walls contained many pegs meant to hold swords and other weapons. The top floor housed a shrine that was moved into the castle after the building took over its former spot.

In order to go into the castle, you had to take off your shoes, put on slippers, then carry your shoes around in a white plastic bag. I think some of the grandeur of the castle was lost on me because I was focusing more on the increasing numbness of my feet. I recommend visiting Himeji in the springtime when the temperature is more agreeable.

Alright, I'm running out of steam. Stay tuned for my take on Kyoto...