Category Archives: Life and Stuff

The Slow Train to Anywhere

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Twice in my life I’ve ridden Amtrak. It’s an experience I hope to never repeat now that I’ve actually repeated it.

The first train I rode was the train they call the City of New Orleans on a trip to New Orleans. New Orleans was great and very much worth the trip. The train they call the City of New Orleans was not. It was slow and at some point stopped completely after it hit a truck or a truck hit it or the driver went on strike or something. The only good thing was that I was traveling with my then girlfriend (a relationship that would not end so well) and I got to read a lot.

I tried to enjoy the scenery at times, but since the train moved slowly before it stopped, I got tired of staring at the same tree.

The next time I rode Amtrak I got suckered by low prices. I decided to go visit some Peace Corps friends of mine in Vermont and New York City. After careful research, I discovered that, because of a price special, a train ticket to New York was cheaper than a plane ticket to New York.

Forgetting my past experience, I bought the ticket and hopped the train to Chicago, at 2 a.m. or something like that, from an ill-kempt station in Memphis that reminded me of my one train trip in Albania. Several hours after I started I finally arrived in Chicago. Along the way I made friends/temporary travel companions with a Swedish lass (Svensk tjej?) named Marie who remained a long time pen pal, even after I moved to Japan.

I then took the next leg from Chicago to New York which involved a brief stay in either Purgatory or Buffalo, I’m still not sure which. At some point I arrived in New York, saw my friend there and then took a bus to Vermont to see my other friend. Eventually I ended up back on the train and ended up back in Memphis.

It’s no exaggeration to say I could have got to Tokyo and back in the time it took me to get to New York and back on the train. And I’d at least have been able to watch a movie.

The lesson learned from all this was that when the song says “I’ll be gone 500 miles when the day is done” it actually means “I’ll have abandoned the 19th century toy and hopped on an airplane”.

Enjoy the ride.

Don’t Report the Crime if You Don’t Have the Time

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When I was in Albania I got to take part in the investigation of my own mugging.

All I really wanted was my money reimbursed.

Some time during my second year in Albania I got offered a free ride to Skopje, the capital city of the (Former Yugoslav) Republic of Macedonia. I’ve probably written in down somewhere, but I can’t remember the names of the people I traveled with. He was somehow involved in the development community and she was his translator or employee (to this day I still don’t understand the relationship). They gave me a tour of some interesting sites and then told me how to get a bus back to Albania.

The bus arrived in Tirana after dark and I proceeded to the Hotel Arberia, which was my home away from home. About half way between the bus and the hotel, a man I’d seen lurking near the bus approached me from the front, at the same time his accomplice tried to grab my bags.  I was carrying a book bag and a small carpetbag. I locked my arms together and held on to both bags whilst having my arms and shoulders kicked. Since they’d seen me get off an international bus, they knew I had a US passport and were hoping for a quick store (which is why no knives were involved.) Luckily, it was winter and I was wearing a heavy coat that absorbed most of the kicks.

In the end all they got was my decoy fanny pack–which I carried for moments like this–and some cash that I’d lazily stuck in the decoy.

To get the cash reimbursed from the Peace Corps I had to fill out an official police report. Unfortunately, the person I was supposed to meet was on either a vacation or a honeymoon and I got the wrong person.

Important tip: when dealing with a bureaucracy, never get the wrong person.

This complicated things. The other complicating factor was one of the policeman who’d interviewed me had seen one of the muggers on the street before he mugged me. I was then invited to a late night investigation/man hunt which involved walking with the police and saying “not him” “not him” “not him” and going into bars to check out the patrons.

I kept mumbling that I didn’t want justice; I just wanted my cash back.

In the end, I had to go back to the police station where I eventually found the right person and I got my money reimbursed. The police never found the perpetrator and I never saw him again.

The only catch was, a month later I got a note from the police saying I had to be present at a hearing and if I wasn’t present I could go to jail. The hearing had taken place three days before I received the note. A few phone calls later and everything was cleared up.

Or there’s still warrant for my arrest in Albania.

Rites of Passage at a Self Service Station

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A few years ago, I watched She Who Must Be Obeyed and father in-law pump gas for the first time in their lives.

It was fascinating, and vaguely familiar, to watch as they figured out how to choose the flavor of gas they wanted and pre-pay and then get stuck on what to do next.

Eventually I had to get out and help them.

Until recently, all Japanese gas stations have been full service in a 1950s sense. As you pulled into the station, an attendant would direct you to an open pump and then an entire team of attendants would descend on your car. They would wash the windows, check the air in the tires and, give you a towel so you could wipe the inside of the windows. If you didn’t smoke, they would give you air freshener beads to put in your ash tray. When they were finished and you’d paid, one of the attendants would block traffic so you could get going again.

However, a number of oil shocks eventually caused some gas stations to experiment with self-service so they could eliminate overhead. This was such a big deal it made national news. Now that people have figured out how easy it is to pump your own gas, the call of the lower prices has slowly driven out the full-service stations. There are still a few, but they have a lot of competition.

By contrast, when I was in the USA, I only went to a full-service pump once, and I only did that because I was in a hurry and it was the only pump open. I was met by an attendant who was one part bored and one part shocked that anyone had actually come to use the pump. He washed my windows and he may have checked the oil but that was pretty much it.

Lately, Japan has also discovered self-checkout lanes at large grocery stores, although it’s still at the phase where a nearby attendant is needed to deal with any issues.

Idle Hands Are the Devil’s Remote Control

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Back when I was single, in the middle of winter, I used to watch crap television simply because it was in English.

Not only would I watch the crap television but with a little help from Japanese TV scheduling, I invented binge watching.

First you have to understand the pull English language television has, especially if you’ve just come from Albania where all TV shows were in either Albanian or Italian and included such gems as Disco Club Albania, where every week couples danced to “I’ve Had the Time of My Life” as part of a contest that never seemed to be resolved, and Detective Extralarge, which is, well, a show with Philip Michael Thomas  that exists that was made. (And you have to keep reminding yourself, as you watch it, that you are awake and not in a nightmare.)

The effect of this is so powerful that on a trip to London after several months in Albania, my friend and I almost missed new years because were mesmerized by CNN news and the pilot of Melrose Place, which remains one of the worst hours of television I’ve ever survived.

But it was in English.

Then, when I got to Japan, in the middle of winter I found myself bored and one of the devils over my shoulders made me reach for the remote. I stumbled across a Beverly Hills 90210 marathon on one of the cable channels. I watched it pretty much straight through, with a couple hours sleep mixed in. This is when I invented binge watching. I would continue that tradition through pretty much the bulk of the series. It was a terrible train wreck of a show, but not quite the point where it was classic and campy.

But it was in English.

Since then I’ve gone through fits of binge watching. I tried watching The Walking Dead (summary: boring, soap opera, boring personal issues, boring, HOLY CRAP ZOMBIES. Insides are now outsides. SHE”S EATING HIS STOMACH! Boring, soap opera. Repeat.) I gave up on that.

Recently, I watched all the episodes of Inspector Morse (which inspired me to my latest big writing project) and most of the episodes of Waking the Dead, a British CSI that had a few great episodes but was generally loud and annoying and I ended up skipping to the end after a while.

But it was in English.

The Things Best Left Unremembered

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One of the things you should never do is Google your childhood.

One thing people my age (who grew up in the USA) like to do is lament the loss of the great Saturday morning shows in the 1970s. We are convinced that modern Saturday morning fare is crap and we were the few, the happy few.

This is mostly because we remember how the shows made us feel not how they actually were. We also tend to remember the theme songs. We also don’t realize how demented we’ve become because of them.

The king of all shows was The Krofft Supershow. We mostly remember it for hosting a bunch of other shows. What we didn’t remember was Kaptain Kool and the Kongs. When you watch this, you will understand why we blocked it out.

Having watched this once, I then forced myself back into very dark places, I first dared explore one of the shows that first gave me an inkling of, well, puberty, Electra Woman and DynaGirl.

The song is still catchy and the main actress still, um, electra inspiring. (I should also add that Judy Strangis aged well and/or had a good plastic surgeon.) If you want to explore true madness, however, search for an actual episode. (Electra demented.)

The other shows, and probably the ones with the best theme songs were Doctor Shrinker (warning the acting is terrible and lead woman is named BJ).

and Wonderbug

Unfortunately, this greatness was ruined in Season 2 when Bigfoot and Wildboy and Magic Mongo were added to the line up. And then it was completely ruined in Season 3 with the addition of the Bay City Rollers.

Now, those still wallowing in denial will point out that all the networks had their own line up. One channel gave us superheroes with Shazam! and The Secrets of Isis (come on, how many of you, for a brief second, think “Oh Mighty Isis” when you hear news out of Syria and Iraq? My hand’s raised) but these were just badly acted, not demented. They also didn’t have catchy theme songs.

In the end, I suppose, what current Saturday mornings miss is the variety of twistedness and dementedness. Well, maybe that’s because we’ve become so demented we don’t remember. Whatever the truth, the theme songs aren’t as catchy as they used to be.

Scary is Only Skin Deep

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As we’ve entered October, Japan has entered a battle between advertising Halloween and advertising Christmas.

Some stores have Christmas decorations up. Some have Halloween. Some have both.

I’ll save discussion of Christmas for a later date, but Halloween is a very strange thing in Japan. One of Japan’s favorite past times is very elaborate, dark and scary haunted houses. What’s odd about them is that a lot of them run all year round and are especially popular in the summer. I’ve even heard it argued on TV and from former students at a pharmaceutical company that going to a haunted house actually cools you down on a hot day. I don’t understand how this works but I think sweat and urine soaked trousers are involved.

Halloween itself is recognized but not really celebrated. I traditionally have to dress up in something scary and hand out candy to some of the neighborhood kids and our youngest’s friends. One year I dressed up with fangs, funny glasses and a white raincoat. I carried a flashlight. In other words, I was a dentist.

For this month there will be Halloween themed candy and decorations and they will all disappear on November 1 and the Christmas (spending) season will start.

There will also be Halloween parties.

Right after I moved to Tokyo I participated in what would turn out to be the last of the “great” Yamanote Line Halloween Parties. (Note to those who’ve never been to Japan: the Yamanote Line is a busy train line that circles Tokyo.) The tradition was to dress up in costume, take control of a train car, and ride a complete circle of the line whilst 1) drinking and 2) trying to find free oxygen in the crowded train car.

I went in 1999. Apparently the year before there had been some damage to one of the trains and/or too much fun was had because I was greeted on the platform by a number of people in government issued costumes (police) who were handing out fliers in English explaining that impromptu parties by costumed individuals counted as illegal riots/invasions of Japan and were therefore discouraged. Police even asked us where we were going because riding the train all the way around the line was apparently illegal for invading forces.

Once we seized the train car for the glory of greater Drunkovia and its God Bacchus, police followed us on and took positions at opposite ends of the car. They began slowly moving forward and squeezing us into a tight clump. The funny part is, we were better at letting people get off the train than most Japanese are during rush hour. We would have been even better at it if the police hadn’t been forcing us into a clump.

Now our apartment has Halloween decorations up. But our hearts aren’t really in it. (We’re just waiting for the cheap candy…)

The Man in the Moon and the Skunk in the Trailer Park

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One thing I have to say about lunar eclipses is that I like them better in the early evening than late at night.

Three years ago an eclipse came way past bed time. I got our oldest up to see it but her reaction sounded something like “ghermst hawpsdt kkelwost jeislwowks, daddy (yawn)”.  I still don’t know if she was impressed or not and I know she doesn’t remember it.

This time we had the entire family taking shifts running outside and checking the status of the moon. Eventually I dragged out my big camera and zoom lens and spent a lot of time hugging a light pole (shut up) to get something resembling clear photos.

Back in the mid-70s, when I lived in Colorado, one of the coolest things we did was stay up late to see a lunar eclipse. I had a smallish telescope that was reasonably useful but mostly I remember it being a clear Colorado night. Being at 6,336 feet helps a lot with astronomy because the air is thinner. Living in a rural area helps, too, because there are few lights.

The best part was, once the moon started to go dark and bloody, I got my first good look at the Milky Way. I still remember being impressed by it. In fact, I wouldn’t see anything like it until I was in Albania. (Third world city, few lights.)

I remember staying up to see another eclipse, but what I don’t remember was which viewing had the skunk. Everyone was keeping a safe distance and although I saw it move behind someone’s trailer, I wasn’t having the “man that stinks” reaction everyone else was having. That was the first time I realized that I wasn’t smelling things quite the same way as everyone else. A few years later, I’d realize I couldn’t smell at all.

The next total lunar eclipse in Tokyo is in January/February 2018 with another coming at the end of July. If we’re still here, it’s a date.

Second Time Around With A Different Plan

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For the record: We are happy to report we survived the typhoon and that school was cancelled.

This month my goal is to hurt my daily opportunity to work on this blog.

I’ve written before about how I took part in a Monthly Challenge where participants were encouraged to adopt a new habit or drop an old one for one month and see what happens and how they feel. At the end of the month they decide if they are going to keep the habit.

In my case, I decided to try a consistent 11-5 sleeping schedule, even on weekends, which was a lot better than my four hour(ish) random sleeping schedule. To help accomplish this I also decided to stop drinking coffee after lunch.

After the month, I’ve found that with the more consistent sleep pattern I’ve had more energy and been more productive in the afternoon–especially at work when I have a free hour–and after work. (The exceptions are if I have a high-carb lunch, then I get sleepy for a while.) It also gives me time in the morning to exercise, do some writing and plan my day and I’ve found myself less grumpy at work (although the company I work for is trying to make up for that. Long story involving a typhoon and bovine scatalogical materials.)

Now that the 30 days are over, I’ve decided I’m going to keep the habit.

The problem is, now when I get home I’m still in my “damn I’m sleepy” after work schedule where I sit down in front of the computer and read news and generally waste time for a couple hours.

Lately, though, I’ve found myself much more restless during this time. Therefore, my goal this month is to eliminate the after work internet and focus on writing projects and more reading.

The problem with that is, after I’ve written a couple hours, I don’t have much energy left for these daily entries. (That happened this weekend when I spent the better part of each day writing.) Also, if I never turn on the internet, it’s kind of hard to write a post for it.

That means I’ll have to experiment with when to write these–which mean’s I’ll probably continue to start them at 10 p.m. or so Tokyo time and hope I don’t have as many typos as I usually have.

By the way, I encourage everyone to try to the Monthly Challenge. Try giving something up for a month. At the end of the month, you can change back or keep going.

 

Crazy Little Thing Called War

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Every now and then, when you live in Japan, you get invited to something and aren’t told how serious it is. You usually end up learning something about yourself. One of the things I learned in Japan is that I suck at organized tug of war.

Keep in mind, until I got to Japan I didn’t know there was such a thing as organized tug of war.

Sometime during my first couple years in Japan, I was invited to participate as part of a mostly foreign team in a tug of war competition. My team had a couple disadvantages 1) me 2) our tallest and strongest friend would not be available for the competition and 3) our women were scrappy but petite.

In our ignorance though, we still thought we might make a good showing of it. That ended as soon as we arrived at the gym.

We were in mismatched sweatshirts, jeans and sneakers–although we may have been asked to wear similar colors. The other teams were decked out in professional tug of war uniforms. These included rugby style shirts with reinforced underarms and shoulders, matching shorts and special indoor tug of war shoes. They also, it turned out, had technique and practice. Even their women would look at us and go “I must break you”. There’d then be a short chat as someone corrected them. Then they’d look at us and go “I will break you”.

In our first match, I think I was the anchor and my friend Tom was in front of me. As soon as the judges said go the opposing team started bouncing and chanting. Each bounce pulled us closer and closer to oblivion and we lost.

It turned out we had too much weight at the back. We started experimenting with me at the front and Tom at the back and vice versa. This proved pretty effective as it gave us a tall person as leverage at the front and that made each bounce slightly less effective. We also learned to pull as a team.

There were, however, no scrappy team of misfits overcoming impossible odds moments.

We lost every match, but at least they weren’t Denver Bronco Super Bowl / Brazil versus Germany World Cup 2014 bad.

After that we may have gone to a party with the people who invited us but I don’t remember.

Watching Baseball From A Long Way Away

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Woops: Technical difficulties. Lost first version of this. Second may be short.

Although I like baseball highlights and the baseball playoffs I don’t like baseball that much. (And, no, I’m not a commie.)

Part of the problem is I didn’t play anything resembling organized baseball until Hayden, Colorado got a Little League team when i was 11 or so. I tried playing (to this day I don’t remember why I did that, but the fact I actually played in games meant there must not have been many players) but I never took to the game.

I never learned to judge a pitch as it left the pitcher’s hand and I never learned to judge where a fly ball was going to land. To this day, I remain impressed by people who run to where the ball will be. My strategy involved standing in one place and hoping the ball hit me.

Also, when I was growing up Colorado didn’t have a baseball team. By the time it did, I was living back in Kansas which still has no team. I therefore never had the chance to study the game they way I did the Denver Broncos and American Football.

To me baseball is still just two men with a ball taunting  a guy with a stick while a bunch of their friends watch and wait for something to do. Despite that, I respect the skill baseball players have and I even enjoy baseball documentaries. Heck, I even watched the documentary Knuckleball! when I was on a plane last year.

I also tend to watch baseball when something record breaking is about to happen. Back in 1995 I joined a group of friends to watch Cal Ripken, Jr. break Lou Gehrig’s consecutive game streak. What I remember most about that was how moved my friend, a Baltimore Orioles fan was, and how ESPN announcer Chris Berman stopped talking so everyone could enjoy the moment. To this day I’m grateful Bob Costas wasn’t the announcer. He’d still be talking.

Now, for the first time since my first semester at university, the Kansas City Royals actually have something to do in October other than find an open golf course. Unfortunately, the games are on when I’m at work and I can only watch them via game trackers on sports websites.

I think I like this way of watching baseball better than actually watching baseball.