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.

Randomly Taking the X Out of Christmas

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Although I spent a lot of time in history of Christianity classes at university and know that the “X” in “Xmas” is ancient shorthand for “Christ” and not some secular conspiracy, it still bothers me a bit that the Japanese use “Xmas” instead of “Christmas”.

First it bothers me that in most of the government approved English textbooks “Xmas” is offered as an appropriate example of a word that starts with X. For example: “V is for Violence; W is for Whiskey; X is for Xmas; Y is for Yelling,” (Which, now that I think about it, is a lot like shopping on Black Friday.) I keep pointing out that “X-ray” or “xylophone” would be better but then get thrown out of the discussions.

Beyond that it’s surprising how easily the religious aspects are removed from the celebration. It’s all Santa and snowmen and reindeer and no hints at all of what the X stands for. I make sure our girls know the actual history of Christmas, but it’s not a holiday here; it’s more like Valentine’s Day. (In fact, She Who Must Be Obeyed will be working tomorrow.) It’s mostly an excuse to put up lights and buy cake.

Speaking of cake, I’m also bothered that everyone asks me what kind of cake I ate at Christmas when I was growing up. I tell them I didn’t eat cake and they give me skeptical looks and go “really?” as if I’m lying to them. Eventually I go all Grinch meets Frank Booth and say “Christmas cake? F@#k that sh#t! Pecan pie!” This surprises many of my Japanese friends. (Remind me again: why don’t I get invited to parties?)

The final thing that bothers me about Japanese Christmas is the constantly played, yet limited array of Christmas pop songs including the shockingly inappropriate “Last Christmas” by WHAM!

Last Christmas:
I gave you my heart
But the very next day you gave it away.
This year
To save me from tears
I’ll give it to someone special.

That puts you right in the Christmas spirit, eh? (It’s right up there with singing “I Will Always Love You” and “My Heart Will Go On” at a wedding.) Then we get Mariah Carey’s “All I Want For Christmas” a few thousand times and John Lennon’s “Happy Xmas (War is Over)” several hundred times. There are a few good Japanese Christmas tunes and a couple inexplicable ones. Kaela Kimura’s “A Winter Fairy is Melting a Snowman” is especially creepy as all it does is repeat the title endlessly.

That said, the girls are still young enough to enjoy Christmas and it’s a nice pause before the onslaught of beer and food at the in-laws (more on that in another post).

Bah! Humbug.

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.

Here is Not Like There or Over There

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Since I’m now 48, I’m pretty sure there are places in Tokyo it’s not legal for me to go.

One of those places is Shibuya. Shibuya is the center of youth culture and Kawaii culture in Japan. The 109 building is the center of women’s/girls fashion and I’m pretty sure there’s a permanent restraining order for men over a certain age as there’s no reason for men to go in there other than for nefarious purposes. I’m pretty sure I’d be arrested if I went in there.

The different regions of Tokyo, like most major cities, have different personalities. I think what sets Tokyo apart is that the different personalities can be reached on one train line, the Yamanote line which runs a circle around Tokyo.

Today I started in Ginza which is the Beverly Hills/Rodeo Drive region of Tokyo and which, until recently, had the most expensive piece of property in the world. It is the land of Bulgari and Tiffany and Prada and Japanese brands like Mikimoto. (It also has Ito-ya, one of the best stationery shops in the world.)

A few stops away is Akihabara, which is the tech-geek section of Tokyo. It’s the place where you see sweaty men in t-shirts carrying laptop bags as they buy computer parts and wander around anime and comic book shops. It’s also the region where Maid Cafes are popular.

Near Shibuya is Harajuku which is famous for CosPlay and Dancing Elvises (Elvi?). It has parallel streets that cater to different groups. Takeshita Street is the center of what’s cool and stylish. Where Shibuya is cute and young, Takeshita street is edgier and a little more sexy and artistic. One block away is Omotesando which is another, slightly cooler version of Beverly Hills.

Shinjuku is all about department stores and shopping and skyscrapers. The East side is different than the West side, but I like both a lot.

I ended the day in Ikebukuro, which does the difficult job of mixing youth culture with adult culture. It has game centers and stores and art centers and it’s one of the few places where you see mothers and fathers and groups of high school boys and girls roaming around. It’s also one of the few areas that feels like a college town.

Tokyo is not what I’d call coherent, but it’s a lot of fun. If you go to the right places.

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.

Christmas Can Wait for Karma and Attitude

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Today I started to go Christmas shopping, but the the Japanese train system wouldn’t let me. Then a couple eye rolls from a teenaged girl made me reconsider Christmas all together.

I think that’s called karma.

My plan was to leave the house at 9:30 and go shopping for the bigger ticket items and then sneak them back in the house. However, our oldest was feeling under the weather (thanks to a headache) and it was decided she should stay at home to rest. (Not decided by me, I should add.) Despite this, my trip to Tokyo was cleared because although She Who Must Be Obeyed would be out in the morning, she’d be back by lunch.

I ended up leaving the house around 10 and heading to the station. As soon as I reached the station street, I knew there was a problem as lines of people were gathered in front of the station. A sign in front of the ticket gates explained there’d been an accident involving a person (suicide) and that the trains had stopped just 11 minutes before.

Having been through this before, I knew nothing would happen for at least an hour and a half. (After a suicide and/or accident, the police stop the trains until they can conclude an initial investigation and clean up some of the mess.)

I went home and thought about going out later and then decided that tomorrow would be better as everyone would be back in school and sneaking things in would be easier.

Then, during the evening, our oldest decided to have several “Teenager Moments” involving selective hearing, selective memory, stubbornness, denial attitude and eye rolls. As a result, her Christmas present may simply be the return of her Nintendo 3DS. As I like to point out to her, usually after an eye roll, if she thinks I’m annoying now, she has no concept of how annoying I can actually be when I want to. I even make sport out of it. Just ask my students.

If you’re keeping score: My leaving late caused me to delay departure which caused me to miss the last moving trains which caused me to delay the shopping trip which led eye rolls and attitude which is making me double check the naughty list and rethink the shopping trip altogether. That’s definitely karma.

Bah humbug.

Back to Back Atom to Atom

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I’ve lived in Japan long enough to know that I was in trouble and about to suffer.

Although Japan has an excellent train system, when things go wrong they go wrong in a painful way. This morning, thanks to data delivered to my TV via the new terrestrial digital system, I saw that the train line I use every day was delayed but running. I was worried but hopeful because I wasn’t leaving right away.

As I approached the station, I could see the entire platform was packed with men and women in suits. If I’d been smart, I’d have called in sick right then and there, but instead I had a moment of grown up responsibility and decided it was best I go to work.

In the station, the crowd was organized into neat rows. One thing impressive about Japanese trains is when the door location is marked on the platform, you can be certain that’s where the train will stop. If the driver misses, he backs up until the train is in the right position.

Today, as the first train arrived, I could see it was already crowded but was impressed that half the people on the platform managed to fit on it. This is partly because the Japanese are so desperate to get to work that they want to get on the first train available, even if it’s already full. The second train was also crowded and the other half of the people managed to fit on it. I waited for the third train and was pleased I could see actual bare floor when the doors opened.

Unfortunately, it took 15 minutes to travel two stations (which usually takes five minutes) and when we arrived at the second station, half the population of the Earth (more or less) was waiting on the platform and most of them squeezed on my train.

If you’ve ever been in a concert crush or a football crush or gone shopping for the latest gizmo on Black Friday you can get some sense of what it was like in the train (minus asshole reporters looking for trouble). We weren’t shoulder to shoulder; were were pressed atom to atom. (Technically true so shut up Niel deGrasse Junior High.)

I ended up squeezed against several people and the entire time was happy I was tall, especially when I saw the top of the head of some poor woman caught in the middle of the crush. Eventually, I was forced onto one foot and could feel my leg and knee straining against the crush.

After 20 minutes of crush, I finally arrived at my station and then had to zig-zag and force my way through the people on the platform in order to get out.

I’ve probably caught something and I’ve clearly done something to my knee. And this wasn’t even all that bad. I’ve had worse train rides.