Category Archives: Life and Stuff

Rally the Troops Toward the Train

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Today I had the odd responsibility of getting three different females out the door on time so that we could catch a series of trains.

She Who Must Be Obeyed complicated things by having to work in the morning. That left me to rally our girls. The “rallying” involved several steps, including telling them to pack their own day bags. I didn’t repeat this as I couldn’t care less if they carried their own stuff or not.

However, as they packed, I pointed out that neither She Who Must Be Obeyed nor I would carry anything that belonged to them. They should therefore choose carefully.

This prompted a bit of rethinking on their part.

The next stage involved reminding our oldest to clean the bath and reminding her that snapping at me for interrupting her was NOT an acceptable response to such a request.

I reminded our youngest that she’d probably want her new Nintendo 3DS on the train and that draining the battery at home was probably a bad idea. She plugged in the power cord and kept playing.

Somewhere in there I made lunch, which amounted to cleaning out random leftovers and encouraging the girls to finish them. (In my defense, these were my orders from She Who Must Be Obeyed.)

Eventually, She Who Must Be Obeyed returned from work and finished the last of the leftovers. I then had the job of getting her out the door along with the other two. This involved getting shoes ready and asking why the washing machine was running only 15 minutes before we were scheduled to leave. (There’s a long explanation for why it was running; short version: girls.)

We managed to leave on time, which was a disappointment to me as we were actually on schedule to leave early until the washing machine somehow got involved and my daughter decided to do her hair.

I the end I waited until everyone was out the door and then put on my shoes and locked the front door.

Our youngest then had the nerve to say I was slow getting ready.

Sitting in the Corner Waiting for the Dance

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Tomorrow we head off to visit the in-laws for a few days. This means I’m at risk of gaining a lot of weight.

I’ve mentioned before how the in-laws tend to start handing us beer and food as soon as we arrive. This will be especially true tomorrow as we will be arriving at supper time. This means we get to combine exhaustion and general crankiness with sudden carbo-load and beer. Even though we are at a house, my in-laws continue the Japanese tradition of everyone pouring beer for everyone else. I can be forced–through courtesy oddly enough–to drink even when I’ve had enough simply because someone sees I have an almost empty glass and points a bottle at me.

To make matters worse, the glasses are barely twice the size of a shot glass. One sip nearly empties it and encourages someone to pour me more. I then enter this odd dance of trying to eat whilst simultaneously drinking and offering my glass to be filled.

If this only lasted one night, it would be awesome. Unfortunately this dance continues the second night and the night after. I’ve slowly convinced them I don’t need beer at every meal and that slows things down. (They seem to interpret  “don’t need beer at every meal” as “don’t need AS MUCH beer at every meal.”)

Once I’ve got things slowed down, they trick me. They move the entire dance to a restaurant. This means there’s more beer and even more food.

Because it’s the new year, the drinking and eating will be especially heavy and there will be extra people around taunting my inner introvert. (This is also a trick, as it inspires me to drink more.) I’ll have to be pleasant and engaging and won’t have any place to escape to–at least not that’s heated.

By the time I get home, I’ll be ready for a diet, and, counter-intuitively, a drink.

 

Camera Bags on a Train; Moron on the Platform

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I once left my camera bag on a train. Unfortunately, I got it back a few days later with everything intact.

In 2000, a few months after I moved to Tokyo, I joined a photography class run by Andy Barker–who has a terrific photo book about Kamakura, if you can find it. After a photoshoot, a group of us were riding back to Shinjuku station and, for various complicated reasons, I was carrying two bags. I set my camera bag on the overhead rack, talked with fellow students, and then got off the train in Shinjuku.

I was half way up the stairs when I realized I’d left my camera bag on the train.

Now, the smart thing to do would have been to hop on a faster train that would have put me ahead of the train my camera bag was on. I could have then easily walked over and plucked it off the rack with only minor inconvenience.

However, if you’re a regular reader of this blog you know that “the smart thing” is rarely my first choice in most situations.

Instead, my Japanese travel companion led me to the station master’s office where I described my bag and its contents, what car it was in and what time I’d arrived. They then informed other stations whose workers, in theory, actually boarded the train to find my camera bag.

Instead, I went home without my camera bag, my camera and my cellphone. I called my provider and had my cellphone disabled and started deciding what camera I was going to buy to replace the one I’d lost.

A couple days later, we got a call from Japan Rail explaining the bag had been found and that I needed to come pick it up . Unfortunately, I was working that night and She Who Must Be Obeyed went to get it. I gave her a detailed list of contents and she pondered it and went “Why do you need so much crap?” (or maybe it was “You owe me” or something like that.)

She was able to retrieve the bag despite her being a Japanese woman whilst the owner of the bag being an American man.

Nothing was missing and I had to delay my camera purchase. I remain surprised that I got everything back in one piece.

The Bag Marks the Spot and Brings the Anger

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If I were less paranoid, I’d probably get to sit down more often. I’d also be a lot more calm.

The other day, before the party where I ran into former students, I decided I needed some coffee and something sweet right after I arrived in Ikebukuro. I therefore went to the Cafe du Monde for coffee and beignets. (Although this is a cliche thing to do if you’re in New Orleans, in Tokyo it counts as cross-cultural contamination, or something like that.)

When I walked in, there were a handful of tables available. My gut and experience told me that I should drop my bag off on one of the tables, but my paranoid self said “Are you insane?” My gut and experience said that the bag would be fine if I left it. My paranoid self It pointed out there was no line so I was probably safe. My gut and experience said “Are you insane?”

By the time I got my coffee and my flag, the chairs had been claimed by other people’s bags.

This is a common occurrence in Japan and is not considered rude. There may be a dozen people in line ahead of you and only one table left, but the 13th person in line is allowed to claim the seat with a bag or a scarf. Even if it were safe to do this in most countries, I still consider it rude, especially if there’s a long line. It seems to me no different than cutting in line to get served first. However, in Japan they seem to assume that you’re smart enough to know how to reserve your seat and have probably already done so. If you’re not smart enough, then, well, stand.

The only seats available in Cafe du Monde that afternoon were in the smoking section. I stood around waiting for a table. I was quietly swearing under my breath. (Yes, believe it or not, quietly.) Luckily, one of the staff asked around and someone removed his bag from a chair he’d been using as bag storage and I got a seat.

I had a lot of time to kill so I stayed around for a while. I got to see several tables open up and immediately get occupied by bags. I quietly swore at each person who did that.

Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present and Future

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Although I’ve brought up a lot of humbug over the last week or so, in the end I do enjoy Christmas in Japan, although it comes with a few ghosts.

Ghosts of Christmas Past
One thing I miss in Japan is that almost no one sends presents before Christmas. If they do, we usually keep them hidden. This means there’s no torture from seeing early arriving presents placed under the tree. When I was a kid, we all got good at spatial analysis and investigation and weight versus volume versus internal movement ratios as we picked wrapped presents up and shook them.

A typical conversation:
(Sister and I quietly pick up and shake presents.)
Mom– (from another room) What are you two doing in there?
Me and Sister–Nothing!
Mom–Leave those presents alone.
Me–Sister’s shaking the presents!
Sister– $@#%$ #$%^$^  @#$%$^  #$%%^^!!!
Me–Sister said bad words!

Something like that.

You also had de facto scientific experiments involving psychic ability as you waved your hands over the presents and tried to divine what they were. This improved with experience and you eventually learned which shapes were probably underwear and socks and which were actually something useful like action figures or computer games.

Every now and then a cruel parent or other relative would put socks in a larger box to throw you off.

Ghosts of Christmas Present
Here in the present we don’t have a lot of space and have never had a big tree which means we’ve never had a formal “trim the tree and put up Christmas decorations day”. Also, Christmas is complicated by the New Year’s holiday when relatives hand the girls large sums of cash contained in annoyingly cute envelopes and they go buy whatever they want (after large chunks of it are secured for savings and/or education).

It is also a tradition to explain to our girls that we didn’t actually steal their money, we just “secured it”. (Shut up. You didn’t build that.)

Also, our oldest’s birthday is in mid-January which complicates presents. We’ve not yet (emphasis on yet) been cruel enough to give one present and say it counts for both celebrations, but we’re seriously considering it. This is partly because as presents get smaller, and make a less impressive pile in the morning, they get more expensive. (This is an important formula we need to remember and need to teach the girls about.)

Ghosts of Christmas Future
Someday (hopefully next year) we’d like to get the girls back to the USA for a full blown US Christmas complete with large trees, lots of Christmas lights and several metric tons of food. I also want them to experience the torture of the early presents. (I think there’s a lesson in patience and delayed gratification in there somewhere but I’m not sure I ever learned it and will have a hard time teaching it.)

Until then, God bless you, everyone. And Merry Christmas.

Beer and Students and Teacher Sightings

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A former colleague of mine doesn’t like to encounter students when he’s out and about living his life. He’s so paranoid about students seeing him with his significant other that he makes her walk several steps behind him when they walk around the neighborhood.

The sad part is, although I find that a bit extreme, I actually kind of understand it.

There are few things as awkward as eating at a restaurant when a group of your students are around. They sneak pictures and talk about you (at least for a few seconds) and then snicker as you leave. I remember encountering teachers “in the wild” when I was a kid and I also remember immediately scanning their grocery carts for things like beer and cigarettes.

Last night, however, I had the unusual experience of encountering former students when both of us had been drinking.

Because it’s the end of the school year and is the Christmas season, a bunch of us decided to have an impromptu Forget Year Party with some of the Japanese staff. We chose, for reasons I had nothing to do with, to go drinking at the HUB, which is a chain of faux British pubs that serve fish and chips, Guinness, and other tasty forms of beer.

The HUB we chose happened to be near the main branch of the university partially fed by the school where we work. As result, we suddenly found ourselves surrounded by college students which, for better and for worse, prompted me to do a tequila shot from a tray being carried around by a waiter. However, because it’s a British pub, and, well, there’s no cultural reason whatsoever to do tequila shots in a British pub, I was given neither salt nor lime.

After that shot, I was informed that several former students were in the pub. Including three directly behind me. This led to conversations with the students, who were drinking yard long glasses of Mojitos (which are also, not technically part of British culture).

I pointed out I could remember their faces but not their names. I said this was because while I grew old, they grew up. A couple of them wanted their pictures taken with me and, having had a couple pints of beer, a Bloody Mary and a tequila shot, my usual aversion to such encounters went away and I volunteered.

Now, I wonder if that was a good idea.

What Happens at the New Year’s Party Stays

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Back when I worked in Nou-machi, because I worked for the Board of Education and at two different junior high schools, I got to forget the year three times.

I’ve mention before how Japanese parties tend to be formal and timed to the minute. They also tend to be rather boring. However, this time of year, even though clocks are still involved, the parties get a little crazier.

One of my favorite names for a party is Bonenkai. In Japanese, the literal reading of the letters is “Forget Year Party” and that pretty much describes what happens.

Instead of the usual two hours, the Forget Year Party stretches to three. There’s more food and more drink and lots of silly, drunken games. I’ve played drunken Twister; drunken rock-paper-scissors; and guess which poor sap got the big chunk of wasabi in his sushi. (This game involves lying and pretending and guessing who’s not really lying. Long story.) I’ve also heard stories of a naked principal climbing a beam and pretending to be a cicada. (I’m never invited to those kinds of parties, though, so I’ve never actually seen anything like that.) I have, however, seen men dance around while dressed as ballerinas. (I used to have a hat that proved it. Now I think I might have imagined the hat. Long story.)

The other thing that happens at the Forget Year Party is that once people start roaming around and talking in pairs, all their complaints come out. I remember one of my English teachers berating the principal about life in general and all the extra BS the teachers were expected to do that had nothing to do with teaching. The principal just took the berating and nodded in agreement.

At another Forget Year Party I was seated next to Ms. Yamazaki (not her real name) who taught home economics or something like that and who was mostly famous for her skill at dismissing the male teachers’ interest in her. (Let’s just say she had tremendous “tracts of land”.) She also had a dismissive “are you serious?” look that was part smile, party wince and part hiss and was scary even if you saw it from across the room. (And yes, she would get hit on in the office. More on that some day.)

We got along well but by then I was dating She Who Must Be Obeyed and had been scared away by that “Are you serious?” look so didn’t consider trying anything. Later, as people started moving around and mingling, the principal came up to me, poured me a beer and got very serious. We then had this conversation:

Him–I see you are sitting next to Ms. Yamazaki.
Me–Yes I am.
Him–Good luck.

At that point I felt as if I’d let down the entire school.

After the main party, there’s almost always a second party (also done on the clock). For this party whiskey and karaoke are involved. In my first year in Japan, at the Board of Education after party, my boss dragged me up on stage to sing “I Left My Heart in San Francisco.” I didn’t actually know the words or the tune, but I did my best.

Later, I’d learn that my boss didn’t remember singing with me. But that’s sort of the point of the Forget Year Party: You vent your frustrations and drown them in alcohol. Then you forget them and move on. (Or at least you pretend you do.)

 

 

‘Tis the Season to Humbug and Complain

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I usually don’t get moody during the holidays (that’s usually reserved for October) but I’ve been out of sorts lately. A lot of odd little pressures have added up.

One of the pressures was the karate test that was scheduled for tomorrow. I’d practiced some, but not enough and after a careful assessment of my skill level and my quantity of practice, I decided to withdraw from the test in the most clumsy manner possible. Although I’d made up my mind in my gut (so to speak) to withdraw very early on, I still held out some hope/denial that I’d pull things together. Then, right at the last minute, I withdrew. Part of it is that I haven’t been having much fun with practice this year–lately it’s started to feel like a job–and I can’t help but feel I’ve got as good as I’m ever going to get at it.

(I also need to teach my sensei how to use Gmail on his phone AND his tablet which would have helped the clumsiness. Long story.)

The other stresses have involved family and work. I’ve said before that I’m tired of not working where I work. Recent revelations have made that a bigger issue, or at least made me think about it more (it will take a long post to explain all that). That said, some of the revelations have been positive and it’s still a pretty easy job.

I’ve also got a sneaking suspicion that She Who Must Be Obeyed wants to move back to her hometown. Mother of She Who Must Be Obeyed has been doing well after her surgeries, but the thought is always there nagging away at her. I think it would do the girls good to be out in the middle of nowhere with some land to help maintain. (Actually, it might do me some good too, now that I think about it.)

That said, I’ve also learned never to make long term decisions when I’m in a mood like this. Next year, I’ll go back to karate practice, or I won’t. We’ll move to Nou or we won’t (probably not until our oldest finishes junior high), but I’ll decide that when I’m less moody–a period which lasts for five minutes every couple of months.

Some Assembly and Swearing Required

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I am at war with Apple. They don’t know it yet, but I am.

Going to war with Apple is not easy as the droves of cultists, er, fan-persons strike back quickly and without mercy, after a period of denial and attempted persuasion. In fact I can almost hear them whispering in my ear as I write this. (It’s not a bug; it’s a feature.)

Part of this is that, despite having an Android phone and a strong dislike for iTunes (It’s not a bug; It’s a feature.) I like the iPod touch and find it the easiest way to acquire podcasts. I also have a couple Japanese language dictionaries I’ve already paid for and that Android doesn’t have a clear alternative for. (See, told you Apple was better. We love JOBS!)

The problem is, my eight year old 2nd generation iPod touch (My goodness, man, what is this, the dark ages?) has finally begun to show its age via headphone jack problems and on/off button problems. (It’s the Sleep/Wake button, moron. Jobs is disappointed in you. Oh, and it’s not a bug; it’s a feature.) Because of this, I bought a 5th generation iPod touch yesterday. (Good for you. Jobs will be with you, always.)

Unfortunately, I’ve encountered a couple problems. (They are not bugs; they are features!) First, I had to install a new version of iTunes as the squirrels powering my old version didn’t like working for the new iPod. (No animals were harmed during the upgrade of this iTunes. Right?) After that, my new iPod, after a deceptively good start, suddenly got the Apple equivalent of the blue screen of death when it told me to connect to iTunes even when I was connected. (It’s not a bug; it’s a feature.)

I tried every piece of advice Apple customer service and a couple internet cranks–but I repeat myself–gave me. (Blasphemer.) I rebooted it; I reset it; I reset it again; I tried it on a different computer; I lit a candle near it; I sacrificed a chicken for it; I sold my soul to some guy named Timmy; but I still get the “connect to iTunes” error. (And now you know A LOT about how to factory reset your iPod. See, it’s not a bug; it’s a feature!)

Now I have to wander down to an Apple Store and face the cult, er, customer service in person. If they can’t get it working, it’s back to the store it came from.  My biggest problem then will be deciding to get a new iPod, or switch completely to Android. (Shame. Shame. Shame.)

I’m generally brand loyal, but if a brand becomes more trouble than it’s worth, I have no problems moving on. That’s one of my features. (It’s a bug.)

 

The Great Big House of Stuff

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Today I got to go to one of the most dangerous places in the world and managed to spend less than I’d planned.

Because the trains were finally working normally (more or less) I managed to get down to Tokyo and do some Christmas shopping. My store of choice, when electronics are involved anyway, is Yodobashi Camera in Akihabara, which is an eight story (plus at least one basement level) Mecca of gadgets cameras and stuff. It is to camera what Gart Brothers in Denver used to be for sporting goods.

My favorite YC branch is actually in Shinjuku. It’s spread out over several buildings and has one six floor building with nothing but cameras and camera stuff. (In fact, you could supply an entire photography business, complete with old school darkroom equipment, simply by starting at the top floor and moving down one floor at at time.) The main store is three buildings connected by a maze of narrow halls and short stair cases where the floors don’t quite match.

Unfortunately, the Shinjuku branch, for all its creepy charm, is a difficult place to actually shop, especially as its layout is confusing to the employees too. YC Shinjuku is better for getting lost whilst window shopping than for Christmas shopping. The YC branch in Akihabara, on the other hand, is well laid out and bright and, for the most part, the employees know where everything is. If you get hungry, it has restaurants on the 8th floor.

Unfortunately, the things I wanted were on different floors and I had to make my purchases in the correct order to take advantage of the credit points earned from the purchases. I paid cash and started with the items that gave the most points (10% of purchase price) and then worked my may to the ones that only paid 5% or 1%. This helped me pay down the larger ticket item.

Now II have to hide stuff for a week.

The gifts themselves shall remain a secret. All I shall say is tablets and games. (Oh, and a new iPod touch for me.) At least that’s the start.