Author Archives: DELively

Crowds Damascus Steel and Almost Cut Faces

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I almost cut a woman’s face off today.

In my defense, she was behind me and she was holding the knife too close to her face.

Today was the Japan Custom Knife Makers/Japan Knife Guild Custom Knife Show in Ginza. As always, I froze my credit cards in blocks of ice and headed down to the show.

This year’s show was crowded and I was pleased to see lots of women who seemed to have an interest in knives and that lots of knives were being marked SOLD.

Soon after the doors opened. It's already getting crowded. Not everyone is set up.

Soon after the doors opened. It’s already getting crowded and not everyone is set up yet.

I’ve been around the shows enough that people are starting to talk to me. I’ve even discovered a few English speakers. One guy asked if I was a distributor and I went “No, I’m a, wait, if I say I’m a distributor will I get a discount?” Suddenly he forgot English.

The other trend this time was Damascus steel. Almost every knife maker had a version of their knife made with Damascus. The man who asked if I was a distributor was famous blacksmith/steel maker Kazuo Nomura. His most impressive knives were mix of aogami super steel and different shades of copper. The problem was they were only sold as a set of 10 and the set was $10,000. They also had hand made maki-e handles to help justify the price.

The three on the left are part of the set. The one on the right is extra.

The three on the left are part of the set. The one on the right is extra. Would you really bone chicken with these?

Close up of the damascus steel. This would be a pain to clean and keep dry.

Close up of the Damascus steel. This would be a pain to clean and keep dry but it looks cool.

A different knife maker's version of Damascus. These are only $125.

A different knife maker’s version of Damascus. These are only $125.

Although everyone was friendly, I think it’s time to move the show to a bigger hall. As the show got crowded it got hard to move around in the small room. At one point, my Canadian friend pulled me away from a woman I was about to bump. When I turned around she was holding an eight inch Bowie knife up to her face to read the logo or check the polish.

Also, it would be nice to see knife-related goods like sheaths and sharpening utensils. There are already a couple vendors who sell knife parts for knife makers they should also start carrying some Japanese waterstones.

Despite the Damascus trend, there was a better mix of knife types than some of the earlier shows I’ve attended. They makers had flippers, lockbacks, fixed blades of different types and a even a few novelty knives that were kind of fun.

This is sharp and way too small for my hand.

This is sharp and way too small for my hand.

It made me look forward to the next show, which doesn’t always happen. I’ll have to keep my credit cards frozen though.

 

Cute Fashion and the Fashionably Cute

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Although they are very interested in looks and fashion and branded goods, the Japanese don’t seem to have an interest in beauty pageants.

Instead they’ve found a way to connect annoying cuteness with fashion and high-tech consumerism in something called Tokyo Girls Collection.

Tokyo Girls Collection is a fashion show and concert held in a large arena and is open to the public as well as journalists and buyers for stores. The models usually have a girl next door appeal and many are singers and actresses representing fashion companies and magazines and not professional runway models. Most appear to have eaten at least once in the last year.

The thing that makes the show interesting, even as it’s featured endlessly on the news for two days, is not only the spectacle of it but the shocking ordinariness of it all. This isn’t a Paris fashion show steeped in pomposity, false sophistication and the tragically trendy where the clothes being shown will never actually be worn–the fashion equivalent of concept cars–it’s ordinary looking people (albeit annoyingly cute ordinary people) wearing clothes that can be purchased at the show.

In fact, part of the spectacle is the droves of young women trying to watch the show whilst simultaneously working their smartphones to try to buy the clothes and accessories they’re seeing on the runway. In some cases the clothes can be picked up at the show; in other cases they are shipped to the buyer. Every year the news features a handful of young women who’ve both succeeded and failed to acquire what they were hoping to acquire. There are also interviews with women who’ve traveled several hours to be there.

The show has been popular enough over the past 10 years to spawn several rival shows–including a Tokyo Boys Collection–and has even been sent off to Beijing and the USA. It’s also grown in size and spectacle with more bands and more brands.

Eventually, I predict, it will simply become a concert and people will forget about the clothes.

Show Me the Losers and Show Me the Tears

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In honor of Ariana Miyamoto becoming the first half-Japanese Miss Universe Japan last month, I’m suddenly thinking about the worst beauty pageant I’ve ever seen.

Oddly, you can blame the Italians.

I think it was 1993, but I’m not sure. All I know is I was up north in Shkoder visiting my friend Eddie and, as was common, the TV was set on an Italian channel. The Albanians enjoyed their new freedom to watch foreign TV without the threat of going to jail and a lot of them had picked up Italian as a second spoken language.

I couldn’t understand Italian at all and Eddie was keeping his Italian skills secret, but it was beautiful Italian women dressing beautifully or barely dressing which meant it was worth watching.

At least that was the premise; then it got bizarre.

First all the women performed a dance that was apparently choreographed by some famous choreographer as the person’s name kept being flashed on the screen. The problem was the dancing amounted to the women standing in geometric patterns and waving their arms to the rhythm of the music. Even the fact the women were in bathing suits couldn’t override the bizarre.

Then there was some kind of vote held that may or may not have involved telephone polling. As soon as the poll was complete, the survivors were announced and then sent off stage and the emcee interviewed the losers. I couldn’t understand what was being said but I think it amounted to:

emcee–How bad does it suck to be a loser?
loser–It sucks pretty bad.
emcee–Are you sad to be loser?
loser–I’m very sad.
emcee–Now get off the stage, loser.
loser–Thanks for inviting me! Viva l’Italia!!

Then the survivors were brought out to do more posing and another dance involving geometric shapes and hand waving. Another poll was taken and the survivors were sent off so the losers could be interviewed.

Along the way Eddie and I held our own poll (which is not dirty) and decided our personal favorite was a woman with a pageboy haircut and a sophisticated university look.

At some point the emcee brought Gina Lollobrigida on stage to do the “serious interview” portion of the contest. Our sophisticated university girl went first and was so moved by standing near the famous Italian actress/sex symbol, she burst into tears and was unable to speak. Gina Lollobrigida comforted her but you could tell she wouldn’t survive. She didn’t.

Eventually a winner may have been crowned but I don’t remember her name. I may have stopped watching by that point. All I remember is the dance and the losers.

The Last Train and the First Train

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One of the decisions you have to make when you live near Tokyo is how late you want to stay out when you’re spending a night out on the town. Your choices are simple:

1) Go home early.
2) Stay out all night.

You can not stay out “later than usual”. If you try to do this, you will stay out all night.

This is because Tokyo’s train system begins shutting down between 11 and midnight. If you have to catch two or more trains, you have to be aware of the last train on each line. The last train from the closest station may depart at 12:45 a.m. but the last train you can take to get home may leave at 12:30 a.m.

If you miss one key train you will miss all of them and may find yourself taking a taxi home or back to the bar.This makes for odd schedules. The Yahoo Transit site tells me that 12:45 a.m. is the last train from my Ikebukuro heading my direction. It stops about half way and then the instructions tell me the next connection leaves at 4:59 a.m.

This also makes for odd evenings.

I remember meeting a friend from high school and university who’d been living in Japan since the 80’s. I hadn’t seen him in decades, but after only a few drinks and some reminiscing, I had to leave for home at 10 because the bar was in a strange location and I had four trains to catch. It was either “Sorry but I turn into a pumpkin at 10:00”  or I had to say “I know I haven’t seen you since the Reagan administration but can I crash at your place?” (It might have worked with him; it doesn’t work with ex-girlfriends, though.)

The other choice is to stay out all night. The first trains start around 5:00 a.m.

What typically happens around last train time is the working people, the Cinderellas, rush to the train to get home or their wives will throw pumpkins at them (something like that). To reach the train they have to human slalom around the college students and party animals (Vampires) who have the energy to stay out all night and are just heading to the clubs.

The last train is typically one of the worst rides you can take. It’s crowded and full of drunk people. It’s one of the few times I feel nervous riding the train.

If you’re not interested in playing Vampire but don’t have any one who will throw pumpkins at you the next day, there are other options, but they are expensive. There are capsule hotels and, if you can find one that takes singles, Love Hotels. They are safer than the last train and the prices are usually comparable to taking a taxi home.

In fact, I suspect it’s the hotel and taxi industry that lobby to keep Japan Rail and the private train lines from operating all night.

 

 

Retro 51 200 Series Fountain Pen–Twenty-One Year Review

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I bought a pen in 1994 that I wouldn’t like very much until 2014.

Soon after I moved to Oxford, Mississippi to work on my Ph.D., an acquaintance of mine opened a shop that was way ahead of its time (i.e. doomed to fail) and featured items that wouldn’t be trendy for another ten to fifteen years.

I helped out by buying a dark green Retro 51 fountain pen. I liked the look and liked that it was heavier than my old Cross Century. The grip section wasn’t much thicker, but the barrel was and the extra weight made it much more comfortable to hold.

It turned out I didn’t like much else about the pen, though. The wood pen coffin it came in was cool, but it didn’t lock closed. If I grabbed the coffin incorrectly, I dumped the pen on the desk. I also didn’t like that it couldn’t hold two small standard international ink cartridges. (One installed, one backwards in reserve.)

Also, although the cap was apparently designed to be posted, it had to be pushed on hard to get it to stay. The cap flipped off several times when I was writing. Without the cap it was too small to use comfortably.

I could have forgiven that, though, if the nib had been better. I always found the steel M nib scratchy and dry. After several months of use and attempting to like it, I ended up switching back to my Cross Century (until I discovered the Pilot Vanishing Point).

Also, almost as soon as I started using it regularly, it got chips in the enamel paint, exposing the brass underneath. Even worse, the gold plating on the clip and the band started wearing off.

I stored the Retro 51 and almost literally let it rot as I didn’t bother cleaning it much before putting it in storage.

 

Here you can see the corrosion and the size.

Here you can see the size and the corrosion from all the years of neglect.

Detail of the lost gilding and the Retro 51 Logo.

Detail of the lost gilding and the Retro 51 Logo. This all used to be shiny.

Me being me, I took it out of storage after 10 years or so and tried to use it. Me being me, I dropped it and left it with a nice hook style nib. Me being me I put it back in storage until I heard via the Pen Addict of a nibmeister named Mike Masuyama. Because I had another fountain pen/questionable purchase that needed nib work, I decided to send the Retro 51 along for repair. (More on the other pen in another post.)

Mike Masuyama did a great job on both pens and the Retro 51, after twenty years, finally entered my regular pen rotation.

Now, however, the pen is going back in storage. It’s too small to use for a long time and I have other pens I like better. I’m still annoyed it won’t carry two cartridges and that it won’t accept standard sized converters.

I may still have the annoying wood coffin, but I have no idea where it is. That’s also me being me.

A wider size comparison.

A wider size comparison showing the cap posted.

 

 

Cross Century “Classic” Fountain Pen Long Term Review

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I used to claim, back when I was in school, that I’d never thrown out a pen. This was not because of hoarding tendencies, but because I would always lose them long before they’d run out of ink.

Then, sometime in the early 80’s, my father got a pen and pencil set from Cross that included a fountain pen he didn’t want and he passed it to me. The first hit was free and I was immediately hooked. I kept that pen longer than any other pen I’d ever owned and actually used.

Eventually, of course, I lost it but somehow (student loans) managed to replace it guaranteeing that my student loans were spent on at least one thing that was useful.

The first hit was free.

My oldest fountain pen and maybe the only useful thing purchased with my student loans.

I used the Cross Century all through college and graduate school and am still impressed by how neat my notes were when I used it. It also survived two years in Albania with the Peace Corps.

I was partial to blue-black ink although I tended to cycle from blue to blue-black to black to blue quite regularly. It has a gold plated steel medium nib that was always very smooth and the black matte coating on the barrel looked cool–I’ve never been a fan of the gold and silver versions–and kept it from getting too many finger prints.

I used it until I bought a Retro 51 200 series and then used it some more when I didn’t like the Retro 51 as much as I thought I would. I didn’t replace it until I moved on to harder stuff: Pilot Vanishing Points. Even after that, I used it a bit, but eventually it got tucked away in a box.

A couple years ago, out of nostalgia, I broke out the Cross Century, cleaned it and re-inked it. I immediately began to wonder what I saw in it. It is surprisingly thin, much thinner than I remembered. In fact, it’s about the same thickness as most woodcase pencils. After several attempts to writing something longer than a signature, I cleaned it and returned it to the case.

The Cross Century next to a Levenger and a Palomino Blackwing.

The Cross Century next to a Levenger pencil and a Palomino Blackwing.

Now, after almost 30 years, I’m thinking about getting rid of it. I don’t see myself ever using it again and there’s no point in keeping it if it’s just going to stay in a box.

I’ll either sell it or pass it on to one of my daughters and see if I can get her hooked.

 

Slowly at First Then Faster and Faster

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I’m a good enough dad that I’ll go to a concert even when I’m tired. I’m a good enough photographer that I’ll keep the camera straight when I’m asleep. Mostly.

Today was a special concert for our oldest’s brass band club. It was the final performance for all the 3rd year (9th grade members) and took place in a large auditorium with professional lighting.

As always, it was a good performance but there were two problems:

1) last night was the final (probably) farewell party for a departing colleague and I didn’t get home until the next to last train. (I actually wrote yesterday’s post early because I knew I wouldn’t be home until late). (More on “last trains” and “first trains” in another post.)

2) The band front-loaded all the serious slow songs. The songs were so serious the students actually wore their uniforms and sat seriously.

I was using a monopod and had situated it with one hand more or less strapped to it as an anchor and the other holding it straight. Several times during the performance I caught myself waking up but subsequent check of the video showed little drift. Luckily I didn’t experience a Hypnic Jerk (which would make a great band name) or the film might have been more exciting.

Only once did I catch myself falling to the side, but on video it looks more like a clumsy adjustment.

After the five slow songs and, as it turned out, the accompanying nap, there was a ten minute intermission.

During that break the band changed to jeans and t-shirts and came out for the real performance: theme songs from movies and a couple of the girls acting like Ariel from Little Mermaid (who suddenly went blonde) and another girl dressed like Captain Jack Sparrow. We then listened to “Under the Sea” and the theme from Pirates of the Caribbean and medleys of various Studio Ghibli tunes.

During the third phase (Japan Pop Tunes) the graduating 9th graders put on funny hats and sunglasses and tried to induce the audience to join in a popular dance to the song “Gera Gera Po (Yokai Watch)”. The effect was something like this. (You don’t need to understand Japanese; it might be worth watching a minute or two.)

At some point there was the obligatory random standing, but at times there was also actual dancing, which is one step away from marching, but not as annoying.

It ended with one parent encouraging the audience to shout “Thank you” to the graduates, which led to lots of tears.

Next year, I’ll have to go again for our oldest’s graduation performance. I’ll try to be more awake then, but I make no promises.

 

There’s No Such Thing as a Free Beer

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One of the things I think a lot of people don’t get about government goodies is that although something doesn’t have a price, it always has a cost. You only think you’re getting it for free. This is also true of free beer.

One of the advantages of being a foreigner in Japan is that, even in this area, people will invite you to their blue tarps during Hanami and offer you a beer. If you’re lucky the only cost is 20 questions and a chance to practice your Japanese while they practice their English. Then, if you’re smart, you run to a beer machine or a convenience store and replace the beer you just drank after a short “oh, you didn’t have to do that” ritual.

If you’re not lucky, or an introvert not good at making long term conversation in another language and/or not good at making graceful exits, you may pay a higher cost when you end up trapped. On two occasions, I’ve been trapped. Both actually happened in the same day.

First, when I was still in Nou-machi, the town festival (more on that in another post) fell on a Saturday which meant a lot of people were suddenly able to attend. As soon as I arrived, I ran into my former boss who had secured a prime location. He immediately ordered me to sit down and drink. I stayed a while and every time I was about to try to leave I was handed another beer. Eventually, other friends arrived from other towns and I was able to exit.

(For the record: I probably out-stayed my welcome by quite a long time but I’ve never been good at reading “your time is up, get the hell out” signals in any language.)

After that I pointed my friends in the right direction for beer and refreshments and then got ordered to sit by a group of people I knew. They also started handing me beer. I ended up stuck there for a while until I managed to escape.

Keep in mind, part of the reason I liked attending the festival was it gave me a chance to play with camera gear and take lots of pictures. Being trapped, even with free beer means I’m stuck in one location and can’t just break out a tripod and camera when I’m supposed to be being sociable. It also means I can’t enjoy the food you have to pay for. Most of the free beer entrapments provide free snacks, but I’d rather head to the food stands.

The stuff there has a price but little cost.

I rather be here. The food stands at Takada Park in Joetsu. It's famous for its night Hanami.

I rather be here. The food stands at Takada Park in Joetsu. It’s famous for its night Hanami.

Viewing Flowers Through Beer-Colored Glasses

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A lot of people are about to celebrate spring by getting really drunk.

The arrival of spring in Japan means the cherry blossom trees are about to bloom and the Japanese will get drunk and stupid for at least one night during Hanami, or the flower viewing festival.

I think this festival is so important because it marks the first day the Japanese can have a party outside without freezing. That said, it is still kind of an odd festival.

The truth is the plum blossoms have been blooming for a while and they are much more impressive than the cherry blossoms, most of which are old and are more of a pale pink that a vibrant pink. However, most years the weather is too cold for people to properly enjoy partying outside, especially when it’s only plum blossoms.

This is what it looks like from under the tree.

Cherry blossoms from a couple years ago. Cool, but kind of pale.

Also, a lot of events happen at once at the end of March: graduations, teacher transfers, company employee transfers and the end of the fiscal year. Everyone’s tired, has cabin fever and is ready to party.

This also leads to a form of competition. Young employees are sent to the most popular party spots (Ueno Park, Shinjuku park and Naka-Meguro) and told to claim a plot of land for their company. The weapon of choice for this claim is a blue tarp. The young employees then work shifts, including spending the night in the park, to keep the prime spot of land claimed.

Some people camp out for a week at time and neither rain nor snow nor sleet nor rival companies will keep them from their appointed plot. (Something like that.)

At the same time the Japanese news is filled with official forecasts of when the leaves will be in full bloom. The forecasts include color charts depicting the current level of bloom and the full bloom day in various cities. Forecasters can get in trouble if they are wrong.

Reporters are sent out the parks to interview earlier partiers and commiserate with the campers as the young reporters probably were the campers the year before.

Once the party starts, it’s basically a 24 hour drunken picnic. Thousands of people assemble on the tarps and thousands more walk around with drinks in hand. Places like Naka-Meguro (a river walk) are so crowded all you can do is walk (don’t stop, it’s too dangerous to stop) and photographers will nearly come to blows trying to get the best angles.

At that point the tabloid magazines send out their reporters and photographers to capture the revelry and as much debauchery as possible. Back after I moved to Tokyo, a group of us managed to find a spot in Ueno Park along with tens of thousands of other people. We were then invited to join another group.

At some point a tabloid photographer started stalking us, mostly to get pictures of drunken foreigners and, especially drunken foreign women. That tabloid shut down soon after that party, but there might accidentally be a picture of me out there.

Luckily, it will be pretty boring.

More cherry blossoms. Still kind of pale, though.

More cherry blossoms. Still kind of pale, though.

Pilot/Namiki Vanishing Point “Faceted Version” Long-Term Review

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It took me 20 years to write today’s review.

I don’t remember which one I got first, but I think it was the Pilot. I seem to remember getting it back when I was at graduate school at Ole Miss in 1995. I got the Namiki right after I moved to Japan in 1996. The latter came in a fancy pen coffin with enough room for three pens. Me being me, I got them both in basic black, although I wish I’d thought to get a different color.

The Namiki and the Pilot. Only the names have changed.

The Namiki and the Pilot in the coffin. Only the names have changed.

In the end, though, it doesn’t matter what order I got them, because they’re both basically the same pen with the same strengths and structural weaknesses.

As I’ve written before, my fountain pen history moved from a Cross Century to a GoldenStar 711 to a Retro 51 200 series before a friend introduced me to the Vanishing Point.

VPs are rather strange at first. The built-in clip takes some getting used to, but I found the “facted version” of the pen to be thin and light enough that I didn’t have any problem adjusting to it. I’ve used both pens enough that I’ve worn slight dents in the clips l where my index finger rested.

Oddly, when I switched back to regular fountain pens I found myself rolling the pen in ways I couldn’t with the VP. One advantage of the built-in clip is you always hold your pen correctly, at least if you are right-handed.

There’s also a charm to being able to click the pen into use rather than fiddling with a twist cap and posting and hoping you don’t lose the cap and then fiddling with the cap again and then doing it all over when you realize that in all the fiddling you forgot to write something down.

The VP nibs are terrific. I prefer the thicker Medium–that nib and Pilot Blue/Black ink is still one of my favorite pen and ink combinations–but had very few complaints about the Fine except the way it got scratchy on cheap paper. I otherwise never had any problems with them, even though I used them for almost 20 years and tended to flush them infrequently (once every five years or so, give or take).

The only complaint I’ve had in those 20 years was structural. The barrels on both pens–specifically the part with the “nock”–cracked over time. I suspect that it was partly a combination of over-tightening, being tossed in bags and occasional, sudden flights to the floor. It’s also partly the result of questionable design as the “female” threads are cut directly in the plastic and there’s no metal ring reinforcing them even though they are tightening over metal “male” threads on the pen body. (That sentence didn’t seem dirty until I wrote it.)

Several years ago, during a trip to one of the Tokyo pen shows, I asked the Pilot booth if it was possible to repair the pens. They referred me to the pen section of the store where the show was taking place. The clerk took both pens and sent them off to Pilot Pens which managed to find a replacement barrel for one. The other remains cracked and retired and I’ve always claimed I got the last replacement barrel in Japan. (It seems they were only out of black, though. I could have got another color.)

Eventually I replaced the “faceted versions” with a modern VP made of metal. I like the new style, and will review it some day, but nothing beats the sleek look of the “faceted” VPs. They are works of art.

Still good looking, even after 19 of use.

Still sleek and good looking, even after 20 years of use.