A gift of fruit really does cost the equivalent of $50 aussie.
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
Beach Karate
So much has happened since I last updated these pages. I was waiting for photos to develop before I wrote this one up. We went the beach one hot Sunday. Several kay’s up the coast. My karate dojo and connected dojos. I thought it was a general excuse for a social outing Japanese style, and it was, but it was also an exhibition. I got a lift with Hiro, who was helping to set up and had to be there at eight. We left shortly after seven; far too early for a Sunday morning, especially when one has been out drinking until 4am the night previous. Being excused from the general set up I promptly found a soon to evaporate patch of shade next to the sea wall, threw myself onto the sand and tried to pass out.
My calm was chased away shortly by a chattering, excited family who set up their picnic table and sunshade right next to where I was trying to block out the piercing light of the sun. I groggily lifted my head and could see nothing but foldout picnic table legs arranged uniformly in rows under similarly congregated shade tents. A huge stretch of beach and apparently thousands of little karate kids and their parents squished into one small area.
A keg of beer was set up, help yourself style, and garbage bins full of ice, alcoholic and soft drinks stood adjacent. A machine making shaved ice was being operated by shifts of keen dads who liberally poured cordial and condensed milk over the cups of ice. Gross as it sounds it tasted really good. A curry was being constructed and rice washed at one end of the camp and the fire built upon which a Japanese style noodle stir fry would dish out hundred of plates of food later. So much for just grabbing a towel, swimmers, sunscreen and bottle of water to take to the beach.
Some of the kids were in their dogis and were playing in the water. This I found somewhat odd. Why would one come to the beach in your karate gear? And go in the water? This conundrum was soon answered when Irikura Sensei, now outfitted in his own dogi, came to get me to inform me it was time to train. I looked at him and laughed. Yeah right. At this stage the celsius was well over the 30 degree mark and steadily climbing. Normal training goes for three hours with regular rehydration breaks. Inside. At night. There is no way any half brained person would train in full summer sun in the middle of the day.
I was asked if I had a dogi, an odd question I thought, as they knew I as yet didn’t. But it seemed like a good excuse to blend into the crowds of parents similarly dressed in shorts and t-shirts. Only recently returned to the dojo after my stint on crutches, a weak ankle seemed like another good excuse to get out of training on sand.
Everyone lined up facing away from the water and proceeded to practice the range of punches, kicks and blocks whose Japanese names still elude me. It looked cool, the row of white clad black belts and wannabes seriously putting on this bizarre display. My nephew’s words of warning about the Japanese being truly weird came back to me, and for the first time I thought maybe he was right. Then everyone moved back several paces, and the older combatants were standing in water, showering everyone with their kicks. Again everyone moved back, completely seriously, up to knees in water it looked really difficult to kick properly. By the time everyone was up to their thighs, hand-to-hand combat was instigated by the Senseis safely instigated on dry land, megaphones in hand.
At this point I appreciated the Japanese talent for silliness. Sternness had been steadily washed away, and now anything went. As combatants switched partners it escalated into a full on water fight with teams being made and war being waged with younger lighter participants hoisted on the backs of their older comrades. I wanted to drop my camera and join the fray, but it was too late now. I hadn’t earnt the right, not today at least.
The rest of the day was spent eating, drinking, playing in the water and socialising. At a preset time everyone was thanked for coming and politely told it was now time to go home. So everyone did.I learnt later that this is a traditional event that happens twice a year. Stay posted for the winter episode.
Friday, August 05, 2005
Whoa Hoah, Im an Alien
Im a legal alien im an Australian in Japan.
No shit, on the top of my alien card it actually says:
GOVERNMENT OF JAPAN CERTIFICATE OF ALIEN REGISTRATION
and I thought it was a cute nickname invented by some crazy gaigin.
So now Im entitled to open a bank account, move into a house and stir up trouble. Hee hee. Last weekend I was taken house shopping. Well I was shown two. Its difficult for me to get a house because most real estate agents demand key money. A tidy sum which amounts to about 3 months rent, never to be seen again. All the big schools pay it once and then move teachers in and out and write the cash off on tax. My boss isnt that big though, which meant finding a place that is happy with a security deposit. Now I have to come up with four months rent, but its rent in advance. I get it all back except for maybe a months worth, which I can live without. Finding such a place meant calling in favours from Japanese friends, so I didnt want to be a pain in the arse and too picky.
The place ive got is pretty cool. Its relatively cheap and really large for one person. Affectionately known as a 2DK it has a big kitchen/ dining room and two adjoining tatami rooms of good size. Tatami are the mats that older houses have and are the traditional way of measuring room size. The rooms also have traditional sliding paper screens. Pretty cool.
I have an antique bathroom and a small garden out the back. Its practically a mansion. It doesnt get much light, and is in the industrial part of town, which accounts for the age and ralative cheapness, but Im pretty stoked. The other place I was shown was 1500 yen cheaper and was all windows, light: good, hot in summer, cold in winter: bad. It was one tiny room attached to an equally tiny kitchen and made the grotty communist block apartments in Mongolia feel like the Ghobi.
So the upshot is I get to move in about 2 weeks when all the bureacracy has finished and I can afford a fridge. I have lots of room and expect lots of visitors.
P.S. My other exciting news is I bought a real bike. I had to order it in especially. A red goes faster Specialized mountain bike that all my Japanese friends are amazed by and my gaigin friends jealous of. Except my boss who cant understand why anyone would spend so much money on a bike. I tried to explain it cost much less than half of my bike back home and then she thought I was really crazy. I can only hope all the cyclists will understand.
No shit, on the top of my alien card it actually says:
GOVERNMENT OF JAPAN CERTIFICATE OF ALIEN REGISTRATION
and I thought it was a cute nickname invented by some crazy gaigin.
So now Im entitled to open a bank account, move into a house and stir up trouble. Hee hee. Last weekend I was taken house shopping. Well I was shown two. Its difficult for me to get a house because most real estate agents demand key money. A tidy sum which amounts to about 3 months rent, never to be seen again. All the big schools pay it once and then move teachers in and out and write the cash off on tax. My boss isnt that big though, which meant finding a place that is happy with a security deposit. Now I have to come up with four months rent, but its rent in advance. I get it all back except for maybe a months worth, which I can live without. Finding such a place meant calling in favours from Japanese friends, so I didnt want to be a pain in the arse and too picky.
The place ive got is pretty cool. Its relatively cheap and really large for one person. Affectionately known as a 2DK it has a big kitchen/ dining room and two adjoining tatami rooms of good size. Tatami are the mats that older houses have and are the traditional way of measuring room size. The rooms also have traditional sliding paper screens. Pretty cool.
I have an antique bathroom and a small garden out the back. Its practically a mansion. It doesnt get much light, and is in the industrial part of town, which accounts for the age and ralative cheapness, but Im pretty stoked. The other place I was shown was 1500 yen cheaper and was all windows, light: good, hot in summer, cold in winter: bad. It was one tiny room attached to an equally tiny kitchen and made the grotty communist block apartments in Mongolia feel like the Ghobi.
So the upshot is I get to move in about 2 weeks when all the bureacracy has finished and I can afford a fridge. I have lots of room and expect lots of visitors.
P.S. My other exciting news is I bought a real bike. I had to order it in especially. A red goes faster Specialized mountain bike that all my Japanese friends are amazed by and my gaigin friends jealous of. Except my boss who cant understand why anyone would spend so much money on a bike. I tried to explain it cost much less than half of my bike back home and then she thought I was really crazy. I can only hope all the cyclists will understand.
Monday, July 25, 2005
Adventures in Tokushima
As the title would suggest, I made it out of Kagawa, into the next prefecture. Yesterday I was taken rafting, destination unknown, my favourite sort of adventure.
Before arriving, I did a lot of research on the net and in bookstores, on Japan and Shikoku especially. The number one place I wanted to explore was Oboke Gorge, which slices through the mountains in the centre of the island. Pictures I saw were beautiful and it was held up as the last unpolluted river in Japan. Sooo lush.
So guess where our rafting destination was. Not hard really. I was sooo excited, prepared to be happy with scenary and a tame boat ride down the river.
The weather here has been unrelentingly hot, sans breeze of any rustle. Ive become used to Australian (non) summers again, when you know that the heat will be followed by a few days of cooller weather or rain. Though we complain about the lack of hot days, I must say I rather like the variety, for appreciates everything more.
Where to start? I had the most fun Ive had in I cant remember how long. Like we are talking
years here. After waiting around for an inordinately un-Japanese amount of time we were fitted out with helmets and life jackets, wetsuits for those who wanted them. However the guides said the river was pretty warm and I was quite happy to be refreshingly cold for a day. It hasnt rained in weeks, drought seems to be following me, so the river was low. Tae, Netties 5yr old son was thus allowed to come, making him the youngest person to raft the river. Go Tae, the man!We headed down to the river and ran through basic safety procedures, shown how to float and roll, how to hold the paddle so you dont knock your neighbour for six, and then got to board the boats. If the rapid is not too fast the guide yells "hold on", a big one and we are instructed "get down" doing just that, crouching in the bottom of the boat, holding on. When the river is faster you might have to "go to the right" or "go to the left" to keep the balance in the raft and avoid flipping.
It was so cool. Descriptions defy me. After negotiating a rapid we all clashed our paddles together and yelled in unison. Water fights with other rafts were encouraged and we jumped off the boat and went swimming between rapids. Admired the view. Floated down the river. Chilled out. Probably annoyed everyone with my constant and unimaginative gushings about how beautiful it all was!!
Teru san, our guide, spends summers in Tokushima and summers in NZ. Rafting constantly. This explained his perfect english and radiantly spunky smile. What a life. We tied up to a big rock and climbed up to the top, a feat in mountaineering itself, especially with a recovering ankle. Thank God for frequent swimming and freshly acquired upper body strength. The rock was 5 metres high and we were encouraged to jump off. Teru san demonstrated with a perfectly formed back flip. I stood at the edge and looked down. Five metres seemed an awfully long way down from up there. How deep is it? I asked. He said no one had ever touched the bottom. My next worry was belly flopping or landing wrong. Itae! (ouch). Scary thoughts were careering through my head and I realised I could be the last one up there. Frozen. Dont think, I told my self, 1, 2, 3: I let out a yell and leapt. A split second of "oh shit" looping through my head and then I hit water.
The most refreshing water to swim in ever. Pools are nice, the sea is great, but I dont really like the sticky after. Rivers and dams have to be the nicest swimming. Last time I swam it was New Year and freezing cold. I think Ill be going back up to Oboke a lot while it stays hot.
I couldnt find a waterproof camera before I went, so just got a disposable. The photo guy this morning wasnt positive about how well they would turn out when I explained in scratchy japanese why it was all wet. But its just film and plastic, so Im hopeful. Stay tuned for wicked pix.Some time later, here they are. Check out pix link to ur left for more.
Free advertising: http://happyraft.com/ja/
Friday, July 22, 2005
MADE WITH 100% VIRGIN PULP
The Japanese revere nature as being beautiful. However, since humans are a part of nature, anything produced by humans is also beautiful. This includes the rusty car I drive and the lego land house I live in. A twisted upside down romanticism.
I nearly got irate with the checkout chick this morning. I wander into the local supermarket to purchase some juice and a slab of watermelon for my breakfast. As always I refuse the proffered carrier bag. She then tries to put my glad wrapped watermelon into one of those bags you get in the fruit and veggie section. No, I kindly but firmly thank her. Then she starts getting all insistent about how I need a plastic bag to keep my watermelon separate from my juice. Or something along those lines. My Japanese is still based largely on gestures, smiles, and when absolutely necessary, frowns. I finally escape sans bags into the scorching 10am sun.
Back home I’m enjoying my cold and juicy breakfast, laughing at Japanese foibles; I reach for a tissue and notice the side of the pack.
180 2PLY TISSUES ELLLEAIR “WHITE” MADE WITH 100% VIRGIN PULP
Huh! My brain is confused. That’s an odd way to refer to recycling. I’m trying to figure out how that relates to post-consumer recycling and whether the Japanese have such a concept. Virgin – hang on, that’s original forest. Original Pulp! They surely can’t be advertising that they’ve chopped down beautiful virgin forest for you to wipe your snotty nose on.
Bastards.
I nearly got irate with the checkout chick this morning. I wander into the local supermarket to purchase some juice and a slab of watermelon for my breakfast. As always I refuse the proffered carrier bag. She then tries to put my glad wrapped watermelon into one of those bags you get in the fruit and veggie section. No, I kindly but firmly thank her. Then she starts getting all insistent about how I need a plastic bag to keep my watermelon separate from my juice. Or something along those lines. My Japanese is still based largely on gestures, smiles, and when absolutely necessary, frowns. I finally escape sans bags into the scorching 10am sun.
Back home I’m enjoying my cold and juicy breakfast, laughing at Japanese foibles; I reach for a tissue and notice the side of the pack.
180 2PLY TISSUES ELLLEAIR “WHITE” MADE WITH 100% VIRGIN PULP
Huh! My brain is confused. That’s an odd way to refer to recycling. I’m trying to figure out how that relates to post-consumer recycling and whether the Japanese have such a concept. Virgin – hang on, that’s original forest. Original Pulp! They surely can’t be advertising that they’ve chopped down beautiful virgin forest for you to wipe your snotty nose on.
Bastards.
Boxes to go
They have a car here called The Cube. No kidding. In fact most of the cars look like the angular boxes with wheels most of us drew in kindergarten. Personally I’m still there! Maybe they’ve finally conceded that streamlined cars designed for speed is a redundant concept here. The speed limit is often 30km. Even on the big roads it’s only 50km. But strangely it feels fast. Maybe because the car I’m driving is so small. The streets are so narrow you have to drive slowly as there’s often not enough room for two cars to pass. It’s a messy drop into the concrete lined rice paddy next to the road should you swerve too far. It amazes me I’m yet to see a car deroaded.
The new trend seems to be retro cars. They’re pretty cool. Someone took the redesign of the bug and the cooper a step further and came up with a pseudo historic feel. Cars with a flavour of the forties or fifties designed in. Maybe it’s the front grill or a sweep of a line on the body. Neo-retro, post-old-fashioned, call it what you will, they’re a lot more interesting to look at than the boxes here, or the bubbles back home.
The new trend seems to be retro cars. They’re pretty cool. Someone took the redesign of the bug and the cooper a step further and came up with a pseudo historic feel. Cars with a flavour of the forties or fifties designed in. Maybe it’s the front grill or a sweep of a line on the body. Neo-retro, post-old-fashioned, call it what you will, they’re a lot more interesting to look at than the boxes here, or the bubbles back home.
Strike a pose - theres nothing to it - vogue
It’s the little things that I find weird. The way time is organised. Vending machines, symbols of modern Japan; those dispensing cash (ATMS) close at 5pm, as do those dispensing cigarettes. But you can buy beer (or soft drinks) 24-7. There’s one a couple minutes from my house. It’s great on stupidly hot nights. Unfortunately, they tend to foam a lot if you open them immediately preceding drop. But who wants to wait when it’s this hot!
Supermarkets don’t open until 10am. That one really spooked me the other day in need of breakfast before school. Neither does the gym. It doesn’t close until midnight though. People go to classes on Friday, Saturday night. Late. That’s their night out.
I’ve been swimming most days. I think I’m the youngest person that swims regularly. All the twenty – thirty somethings seem more into the aerobic and weight machines. Lots of my students tell me that their favourite sport is swimming but I think they have pools at their schools.
The Japanese that do swim are really good at it. I wonder what they must think of my persistant sploshing up and down the pool. The preoccupation here appears to be with style, not speed or stamina, as it is back home. Women glide up and down the pool, hands meeting at the end of perfectly straight arms in front of them. They pay acute attention to the precise curvature of an arm, the tilt of a head - but all so slowly. It’s a wonder they don’t sink.
Most people go to the pool to walk though. It’s bizarre. It’s like John Cleese has John Malkoviched himself into the bodies of little old ladies, and some not so old or so little. Great long strides with arms at the side doing impressions of demented power walkers. I saw this women the other day, she had forgotten to take off her makeup, hat and sunglasses (we’re talking indoor pool here) and was recreating a 60s fashion show as she transformed the pool into her own personal catwalk ::: I’m too sexy for my swimsuit. Post swimming chilling out I was gob smacked. Then I had to hide underwater trying to contain the eruption of laughter that was smoking in my brain. Lips pursed, posture perfect, sense of humour choked to death, she didn’t look like she would have appreciated my not so kind-hearted observation!
Supermarkets don’t open until 10am. That one really spooked me the other day in need of breakfast before school. Neither does the gym. It doesn’t close until midnight though. People go to classes on Friday, Saturday night. Late. That’s their night out.
I’ve been swimming most days. I think I’m the youngest person that swims regularly. All the twenty – thirty somethings seem more into the aerobic and weight machines. Lots of my students tell me that their favourite sport is swimming but I think they have pools at their schools.
The Japanese that do swim are really good at it. I wonder what they must think of my persistant sploshing up and down the pool. The preoccupation here appears to be with style, not speed or stamina, as it is back home. Women glide up and down the pool, hands meeting at the end of perfectly straight arms in front of them. They pay acute attention to the precise curvature of an arm, the tilt of a head - but all so slowly. It’s a wonder they don’t sink.
Most people go to the pool to walk though. It’s bizarre. It’s like John Cleese has John Malkoviched himself into the bodies of little old ladies, and some not so old or so little. Great long strides with arms at the side doing impressions of demented power walkers. I saw this women the other day, she had forgotten to take off her makeup, hat and sunglasses (we’re talking indoor pool here) and was recreating a 60s fashion show as she transformed the pool into her own personal catwalk ::: I’m too sexy for my swimsuit. Post swimming chilling out I was gob smacked. Then I had to hide underwater trying to contain the eruption of laughter that was smoking in my brain. Lips pursed, posture perfect, sense of humour choked to death, she didn’t look like she would have appreciated my not so kind-hearted observation!
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
Cicadas forming the soundtrack to my life.
Its like being on some tropical movie show.
There is no daylight saving here, so it gets light about 4:30 in the morning. At which point the birds wake, closely followed by the cicadas, and then me. It finally being cool enoughto sleep, I relish not sweating profusely for a couple of hours, curl over and snuggle into my sheet.
Yesterday was a public holiday. The Day of the Sea. I didnt know this but was told by some sailors who I was trying to suck up to in broken tongues of many varieties. I wanted to go to the beach,which meant catching a train and a ferry. Caught the wrong train which was exciting because I ended upon the big bridge to the mainland, considering being freaked out about being busted by an uptight ticket inspector,but being too stoked about the view to really care.
I got toTakamatsu and stood overlooking the Inland Sea on one of the clearest days Ive expereienced. It was soo beautiful. And then, low and behold, I spot dhingies heading into a har\bour a km away. Wahoo! Have been looking, unsucessfully, for a boat since I got here. I weave my way around the back streets and finally find a few guys sitting around in a carpark come foreshore.
"Hello. Excuse me very much. My name is Kirstie" i bravely state as they look curiously at me.
"Im an Osutoralian person".
"I like sayringu."
"I like sayringu very very much."
Ive run out of things to say and start looking around for an embarrassed escape exit. Someone decides to brave their high school English, smiles and says hello back. I breath a sigh of relief. After another few minutes of awkwardness another guy ventures " You want to join sayringu club."
"Ahh, so, so, soo desu ne"
Then the English teacher comes out to help and they tell me this is day of the sea, the race is a special occassion, and its difficult for me to join a club. But we swap sailing stories and one guy tells me his friend owns a yacht and a dhingy. Oops. Ive forgotten my phone number, so I give him my email address and pray to the gods of the sea he willcontact me.
I never made it to the beach, but the beach will wait. I think many more hot days lie ahead. Hopefully I will get my wish to learn to sail inJapanese. Sugoi desu ne.
There is no daylight saving here, so it gets light about 4:30 in the morning. At which point the birds wake, closely followed by the cicadas, and then me. It finally being cool enoughto sleep, I relish not sweating profusely for a couple of hours, curl over and snuggle into my sheet.
Yesterday was a public holiday. The Day of the Sea. I didnt know this but was told by some sailors who I was trying to suck up to in broken tongues of many varieties. I wanted to go to the beach,which meant catching a train and a ferry. Caught the wrong train which was exciting because I ended upon the big bridge to the mainland, considering being freaked out about being busted by an uptight ticket inspector,but being too stoked about the view to really care.
I got toTakamatsu and stood overlooking the Inland Sea on one of the clearest days Ive expereienced. It was soo beautiful. And then, low and behold, I spot dhingies heading into a har\bour a km away. Wahoo! Have been looking, unsucessfully, for a boat since I got here. I weave my way around the back streets and finally find a few guys sitting around in a carpark come foreshore.
"Hello. Excuse me very much. My name is Kirstie" i bravely state as they look curiously at me.
"Im an Osutoralian person".
"I like sayringu."
"I like sayringu very very much."
Ive run out of things to say and start looking around for an embarrassed escape exit. Someone decides to brave their high school English, smiles and says hello back. I breath a sigh of relief. After another few minutes of awkwardness another guy ventures " You want to join sayringu club."
"Ahh, so, so, soo desu ne"
Then the English teacher comes out to help and they tell me this is day of the sea, the race is a special occassion, and its difficult for me to join a club. But we swap sailing stories and one guy tells me his friend owns a yacht and a dhingy. Oops. Ive forgotten my phone number, so I give him my email address and pray to the gods of the sea he willcontact me.
I never made it to the beach, but the beach will wait. I think many more hot days lie ahead. Hopefully I will get my wish to learn to sail inJapanese. Sugoi desu ne.
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
Boing boing boing ... oops!
That promise to come back in a couple of days . . . unfortunately life has slowed down somewhat.
Going up and down is especially difficult. Im not sure if my anke let me down, or if I let my ankle down, but I got to see the inside of a Japanese hospital last week. Nothing serious, just boinging around on crutches again after spraining my ankle after karate. Not even during karate, how lame is that? Ive been telling all my kids this really scary big guy was chasing me and I fell over, which is somewhere near the truth but we were joking around so it doesnt really count. Ive been boinging around the classroom and they all think its hilarious, which i guess it is!
I am scoring lots of sympathy though, and my neighbour brought around a six pack of Haagen Daaz aisu kuriimo, which is almost worth having a football instead of an ankle! I wanted to get some crutches, but had to see a doctor first, which was kinda expensive not having med insurance organised yet. The doctor who livesa couple of doors down came over and had a look and said if i went to the hospital the next day hed sort me out. We did x-rays and apparently ive broken the cartilage, which i didnt know was possible, but hey! Then he put a five minute cast on my leg, and so it would be cooler, sawed half the cast off.
Truly! Attacked my leg with this scary circular saw and cut away the front part of the cast, meanwhile asking me in very broken English if I trusted him. I went white and sweated a coupleof litres as he was doing it. It got really hot, and i could feel the heat near my skin, freaking out about what would happen to my leg if he went too deep. Then, when he had scared the pants off me he said it was vibration only and touched it with his hand. B#$%&@d!
So with the front bit cut away, I can take it on and off, which is pretty cool. The down side is that it stays on by wrapping a bandage all around it. I was sooo excited about having my first cast ever, and getting heaps of people to sign it in Japanese, but it doesnt really work.
Other than that, its been raining lots. Raining wolves and tigers in fact. We had the most amazing storm last friday. Ive seen monsoon rain before but I figure we must have caught the edge of a tyfoo. So much water. All the rice that was planted a couple of weeks ago has shot up over the past couple of days and everything is pretty beautiful and lush now. The temperature thankfully dropped a few degrees too which is nice.
I havent been doing much else really. I went to karaoke on Sunday with all the karate guys and drank my first warm sake in Japan. Thats the third time ive been to karaoke since i got here, and im getting into it, which is bizarre, since i was way too embarrassed in Korea. Everyone here is soo friendly it blows me away. Im more content than i have been in a while. Ive been studying a fair bit too and my Japanese is coming along. Word for the week is suberashi which means excellent, or some such.
Going up and down is especially difficult. Im not sure if my anke let me down, or if I let my ankle down, but I got to see the inside of a Japanese hospital last week. Nothing serious, just boinging around on crutches again after spraining my ankle after karate. Not even during karate, how lame is that? Ive been telling all my kids this really scary big guy was chasing me and I fell over, which is somewhere near the truth but we were joking around so it doesnt really count. Ive been boinging around the classroom and they all think its hilarious, which i guess it is!
I am scoring lots of sympathy though, and my neighbour brought around a six pack of Haagen Daaz aisu kuriimo, which is almost worth having a football instead of an ankle! I wanted to get some crutches, but had to see a doctor first, which was kinda expensive not having med insurance organised yet. The doctor who livesa couple of doors down came over and had a look and said if i went to the hospital the next day hed sort me out. We did x-rays and apparently ive broken the cartilage, which i didnt know was possible, but hey! Then he put a five minute cast on my leg, and so it would be cooler, sawed half the cast off.
Truly! Attacked my leg with this scary circular saw and cut away the front part of the cast, meanwhile asking me in very broken English if I trusted him. I went white and sweated a coupleof litres as he was doing it. It got really hot, and i could feel the heat near my skin, freaking out about what would happen to my leg if he went too deep. Then, when he had scared the pants off me he said it was vibration only and touched it with his hand. B#$%&@d!
So with the front bit cut away, I can take it on and off, which is pretty cool. The down side is that it stays on by wrapping a bandage all around it. I was sooo excited about having my first cast ever, and getting heaps of people to sign it in Japanese, but it doesnt really work.
Other than that, its been raining lots. Raining wolves and tigers in fact. We had the most amazing storm last friday. Ive seen monsoon rain before but I figure we must have caught the edge of a tyfoo. So much water. All the rice that was planted a couple of weeks ago has shot up over the past couple of days and everything is pretty beautiful and lush now. The temperature thankfully dropped a few degrees too which is nice.
I havent been doing much else really. I went to karaoke on Sunday with all the karate guys and drank my first warm sake in Japan. Thats the third time ive been to karaoke since i got here, and im getting into it, which is bizarre, since i was way too embarrassed in Korea. Everyone here is soo friendly it blows me away. Im more content than i have been in a while. Ive been studying a fair bit too and my Japanese is coming along. Word for the week is suberashi which means excellent, or some such.
Friday, June 24, 2005
Yup, life is cruisy, Marugame so far . . .
Definitely landed on my feet.
I'm living in the City of Marugame, Shikoku, which is more like a big town. It's got everything you could want but is surrounded by rice paddies, some dotted around the houses too. At the moment its planting season and legions of old women can be seen bent over in the nasty looking run off water which comprises the paddies, surrounded by slimy algae with lots of CO2 mixed in for good effect. They wash the rice here thoroughly! I'm so looking forward to the luminecent lushness of a couple of months to come. Young rice, so pretty.
Marugame means Circle Turtle. An odd name to be sure. I can guess t
hat it refers to the circle of tu\rtles that surrounds the castle, but it would only be a guess. Yes, you read right. I'm living one minute away from a castle. One of twelve remaining Edo style castles in Japan, or something like that. The castle itself is a replica, and only the size of a small house, but the walls climb a hill that imposes itself over the whole town. Last week I climbed to the top and took some photos of the surrounding area. To be posted soon, just getting them put on CD. The Castle is also surrounded by a real live moat, teeming with real live turtles, swans, carp, cranes, ducks and these funny little bobbing diving birds that I've never seen before, maybe because of their timidity. The grounds around the castle boast a couple of amazing gates, a dodgy zoo and some beautiful park land and trees. Perfect for running around in the mornings before it gets too hot and mushiatsui.
Mushiatsui is my word of the week. Sensei taught it to me and it means humid. The perfect example of onomatopaia. Atsui means hot in Japanese, so you have mushy hotness: humidity. I love it! I've finally embarked on my dream of learning a martial art. I wanted to learn Shorinji Kempo, which has its international headquarters in the next town, Tadotsu, and is all zen and spiritual and idealistic. But Tyler, the teacher I'm replacing, took me along to his Karate class to check out and I'm loving it. Three hours, twice a week of full contact sweat and pain. Its hardcore, very focused and the guys there are really nice. More so than sailing, when in class I'm totally focussed and nothing else matters.
Tyler took me for a drive up the coast last week and its absolutely beautiful. Old style villages, dramatic mountains, its so . . . Japanese. That sounds kinda dumb I realise, but after my time in Korea I'm suprised at how "authentic" things look. There are rice paddies, vending machines and the houses l;ook old style, have proper Japanese style gardens with trees poodle polished into strange shapes that look like a caligraphy painting!
When Tyler goes in a couple of weeks I get his car, so I can get to class on Saturdays. That will be awesome though I'll miss him a lot. Camping stuff is really cheap here, as are some clothes. $50 for a pair of Carhartt shorts, but over $200 for a pair of Levis. Go figure, not that most people reading this would care anyway! But, I'm gonna get me some camping gear and go check out this island in my copious free time.
Right now I'm off for a swim. Nettie, my boss, paid for the first couple of months of a gym membership for me. They have nice equipment, but most importantly, a really nice pool that almost always empty. I've been doing laps almost everyday and then soaking in the attached Onsen, japanese style bath.
I'm living in the City of Marugame, Shikoku, which is more like a big town. It's got everything you could want but is surrounded by rice paddies, some dotted around the houses too. At the moment its planting season and legions of old women can be seen bent over in the nasty looking run off water which comprises the paddies, surrounded by slimy algae with lots of CO2 mixed in for good effect. They wash the rice here thoroughly! I'm so looking forward to the luminecent lushness of a couple of months to come. Young rice, so pretty.
Marugame means Circle Turtle. An odd name to be sure. I can guess t
hat it refers to the circle of tu\rtles that surrounds the castle, but it would only be a guess. Yes, you read right. I'm living one minute away from a castle. One of twelve remaining Edo style castles in Japan, or something like that. The castle itself is a replica, and only the size of a small house, but the walls climb a hill that imposes itself over the whole town. Last week I climbed to the top and took some photos of the surrounding area. To be posted soon, just getting them put on CD. The Castle is also surrounded by a real live moat, teeming with real live turtles, swans, carp, cranes, ducks and these funny little bobbing diving birds that I've never seen before, maybe because of their timidity. The grounds around the castle boast a couple of amazing gates, a dodgy zoo and some beautiful park land and trees. Perfect for running around in the mornings before it gets too hot and mushiatsui.
Mushiatsui is my word of the week. Sensei taught it to me and it means humid. The perfect example of onomatopaia. Atsui means hot in Japanese, so you have mushy hotness: humidity. I love it! I've finally embarked on my dream of learning a martial art. I wanted to learn Shorinji Kempo, which has its international headquarters in the next town, Tadotsu, and is all zen and spiritual and idealistic. But Tyler, the teacher I'm replacing, took me along to his Karate class to check out and I'm loving it. Three hours, twice a week of full contact sweat and pain. Its hardcore, very focused and the guys there are really nice. More so than sailing, when in class I'm totally focussed and nothing else matters.
Tyler took me for a drive up the coast last week and its absolutely beautiful. Old style villages, dramatic mountains, its so . . . Japanese. That sounds kinda dumb I realise, but after my time in Korea I'm suprised at how "authentic" things look. There are rice paddies, vending machines and the houses l;ook old style, have proper Japanese style gardens with trees poodle polished into strange shapes that look like a caligraphy painting!
When Tyler goes in a couple of weeks I get his car, so I can get to class on Saturdays. That will be awesome though I'll miss him a lot. Camping stuff is really cheap here, as are some clothes. $50 for a pair of Carhartt shorts, but over $200 for a pair of Levis. Go figure, not that most people reading this would care anyway! But, I'm gonna get me some camping gear and go check out this island in my copious free time.Right now I'm off for a swim. Nettie, my boss, paid for the first couple of months of a gym membership for me. They have nice equipment, but most importantly, a really nice pool that almost always empty. I've been doing laps almost everyday and then soaking in the attached Onsen, japanese style bath.
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
Some days it's better to stay in bed . . .
Unfortunately, when those days coincide with an international flight, trouble is bound to strike. But maybe it was for the best after all!!
So I've spent a couple of days hanging out in Bangkok, picked up some stuff I wanted for my computer, eaten yummy spring rolls and black sticky rice at May Kaidees vego restaurant, freaked out a little bit about how schmick Koh San Road has become; everything paved, new, even a new Starbucks aggrhhh. I wandered down to the flower market, one of my favourite places, and then over to Wat Po, my very favourite place, to chill out and get the best massage ever. When the guy tells me to turn over I realise to my embarrassment that I'm drooling over the pillow. Oops!
So all this is good until it comes time to leave on Sunday. I run out of the hotel quickly before leaving to pick up a copy of Kid A (I've lost mine) and some special Thai toothpaste. VCan't get either. No biggie.
I get a taxi to the airport and everything is fine until he doesn't have any change and sends me off to wander around with my Four Bags to find some. No one is helpful and I'm not in the mood for this. For the first time I find myself getting short with people. Time for a reality check and decent swig of Emergency Essence. This is Thailand. At check in I can't get a window seat. I'm two and a half hours early and despite all pleas and protest the woman won't be moved. Damn Japanese package tourists must have checked in at first daylight or something. An interesting lesson methinks for Japan, me who always wings it at the last minute but is rarely late.
At the other end, I have 50 minutes to get out of the airport and onto a train to stay at a friend of my bosses that night. So I'm kinda stressed, not really wanting to be stuck in Osaka with too much stuff! At quarantine I get drilled about where I'm staying. At immigration, when I finally get there: 2 people for 200 foreigners, it gets worse. I accidentally wrote 3 months on my card, but only have a 35 day ticket. I also wrote teacher as occupation but am coming in on a tourist visa. Alarm bells start ringing (metaphorically) and I wonder if it would be worse if I had written my usual "international espionage" on my arrival card.
I get taken off to the immigration holding cell, the little white room where they leave you to sweat whilst working out what to do with you. By now I'm in panicky tears realising that missing the last train isn't the worst option. What if I get deported?
Finally, I get released after a big lecture and promises not to work illegally. Phew!
The courier place to send my bags has closed. I can't get change for the equivalent of a $100 note I have in yen and need to ring my boss. Eventually someone helps me spend a lot of money getting an expensive hotel next to the airport.
I ring Nettie, my boss, and discover she's been trying to get hold of me for the last week; apparently if I'd caught that train I would have been really screwed. Kathy, her friend, has gone back to Australia because her grandmother passed away.
It can only get better, I think, as I drink my first Asahi in Japan and settle into a hot bath.
So I've spent a couple of days hanging out in Bangkok, picked up some stuff I wanted for my computer, eaten yummy spring rolls and black sticky rice at May Kaidees vego restaurant, freaked out a little bit about how schmick Koh San Road has become; everything paved, new, even a new Starbucks aggrhhh. I wandered down to the flower market, one of my favourite places, and then over to Wat Po, my very favourite place, to chill out and get the best massage ever. When the guy tells me to turn over I realise to my embarrassment that I'm drooling over the pillow. Oops!
So all this is good until it comes time to leave on Sunday. I run out of the hotel quickly before leaving to pick up a copy of Kid A (I've lost mine) and some special Thai toothpaste. VCan't get either. No biggie.
I get a taxi to the airport and everything is fine until he doesn't have any change and sends me off to wander around with my Four Bags to find some. No one is helpful and I'm not in the mood for this. For the first time I find myself getting short with people. Time for a reality check and decent swig of Emergency Essence. This is Thailand. At check in I can't get a window seat. I'm two and a half hours early and despite all pleas and protest the woman won't be moved. Damn Japanese package tourists must have checked in at first daylight or something. An interesting lesson methinks for Japan, me who always wings it at the last minute but is rarely late.
At the other end, I have 50 minutes to get out of the airport and onto a train to stay at a friend of my bosses that night. So I'm kinda stressed, not really wanting to be stuck in Osaka with too much stuff! At quarantine I get drilled about where I'm staying. At immigration, when I finally get there: 2 people for 200 foreigners, it gets worse. I accidentally wrote 3 months on my card, but only have a 35 day ticket. I also wrote teacher as occupation but am coming in on a tourist visa. Alarm bells start ringing (metaphorically) and I wonder if it would be worse if I had written my usual "international espionage" on my arrival card.
I get taken off to the immigration holding cell, the little white room where they leave you to sweat whilst working out what to do with you. By now I'm in panicky tears realising that missing the last train isn't the worst option. What if I get deported?
Finally, I get released after a big lecture and promises not to work illegally. Phew!
The courier place to send my bags has closed. I can't get change for the equivalent of a $100 note I have in yen and need to ring my boss. Eventually someone helps me spend a lot of money getting an expensive hotel next to the airport.
I ring Nettie, my boss, and discover she's been trying to get hold of me for the last week; apparently if I'd caught that train I would have been really screwed. Kathy, her friend, has gone back to Australia because her grandmother passed away.
It can only get better, I think, as I drink my first Asahi in Japan and settle into a hot bath.
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
ETA 10th June 2005
Right now I'm running round maniacally, trying to get my stuff stored, figuring out what I can't get over there, yada yada.
Come back later and I promise it'll be more interesting.
Come back later and I promise it'll be more interesting.
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