Tyler in Japan

The Return

2005-11-26T21:20:00.000-08:00

So just when I was about to unleash a torrent of updates my computer began its slow march towards death. First the display gave out, followed soon by the trackpad, and then finally the logic board. When I finally took it to the Apple Store in Ginza, they happily accepted it for a free repair thanks to my apple care. I of course failed to mention the one time when a bookshelf full of books fell on it, dislodging the frame from the display. Weber and Marx can be so painful. "Did you ever drop this or anything?", the clerk asked. "No it happened autmatically." "Oh"
A lot has happened this month so I'm not sure where to start. I guess I'll start with last night, the story of which really began on Halloween. Standing outside the bar which played host to our revelries that night, I called out to this girl walking by to come join us. No doubt drawn by the bountiful afro I was sporting, she obliged and came in for a drink. Everything went smoothly at first. The woman getting on her knees to kiss the bare asses of two men in lingerie made a surprisingly good conversation piece. It made me want to compose a haiku.
Unfortuantely, the seduction came to an abrupt halt when the ape man came and bothered us. I had met him before. His name is Keiji and he is big, muscular, and always naked. His studpecs quickly formed a wall between me and Fumika. I would have challenged him, but it was getting late anyway... Plus, I had already gotten her number.
To my surprise she called me and we set up a date for last Saturday. All I can say is that I've never seen anyone eat more butter in my life. She kept eating and eating, intermittently exclaiming, "I love butter." When she took a break from luxuriating in the buttery splendor, we talked a little bit and I found out more about her life. Her hobbies include shopping, eating, and being a really hot nurse. As you might imagine I was enrpatured. Afterwards, we went for a walk and, thanks to the cold, had an excuse to hold each other close. After wrapping up the night with some tea, she went home like a good girl, and I met up with some friends who were wasted out of their minds, so wasted in fact that they were mouthing off to the guys sitting nearby about how japanese guys have small dicks. Luckily, the Japanese guys were too wasted to care and we all had a nice conversation about how hot high school girls are.
Back to Fumika. Despite being sick I went out too meet her again last night for some japanese food. She ate and ate, while I tried to engage her in some kind of conversation. I wasn't dismayed by how uninteresting she was, because I enjoyed looking at her so much. It was only after dinner that I realized how ridiculous the whole situation was. While waiting to catch my bus I tried to kiss her and that somehow turned into a handshake. No, that's not a euphemism for sex. We actually shook hands. Then came clarification of our relationship. She asked me what exactly about her I liked. At that point my japanese kind of fell apart and instead of saying how cute I thought she was (kawaii) I told her how scary I thought she was (kowai). Well, it didn't really get much better from there and I went home on the bus and wondered why I didn't just stay home and go to bed.

a few more

2005-11-25T17:02:00.000-08:00

Continued

2005-11-25T16:54:00.000-08:00

The Last Month in Pictures

2005-11-25T16:36:00.000-08:00

Sankeien Bamboo

13 Ton Buddha

Butter Art

Kendo Kids

Yokohama Day

2005-10-14T17:22:00.000-07:00

No, welcome to my store, bitch

2005-10-14T15:57:00.000-07:00

Go into any store in Japan and you will immediately be assaulted by a chorus of women exclaiming "irashaimase" in a voice an octave higher than their usual registers (it's store policy, everywhere). Though I find it kind of grating, the shouting of this welcoming phrase which literally translates to something like "come in" is a standard part of shop etiquette. I've only been in one store whose clerk didn't follow this practice. It was a used book store and the clerk's complete indifference to my prescense gave me fond memories of home.
As we were too busy reading articles about things like sabishisa (lonliness) and mono no aware (the essential sadness of things) to bother ourselves with the basics, I was never taught how to respond to "irashaimase" in school. It seemed rude to just ignore them, but overly formal to thank them. I usually just gave a head nod or quietly said "konichiwa" (good afternoon). My friend Ken developed the strategy of repeating whatever a Japanese person says during greetings, which of course works in many situations, "Good evening, Ken" "Good evening, Zenichi" "Nice to meet you Ken" "Nice to meet you Zenichi", but unfortuantely fails as you might expect with "irashaimase". Early on in the program we went to a gelato place in the mall next to the center at which the gelato girl of greeted us with the standard "irashaimase". Being a polite young genteleman Ken responded, 'irashaimase!", welcoming the clerk to his store too. This of course elicted a stare of disbelief from poor gelato girl who probably thought the lot of us mentally deficient.
Japanese bewilderment at the stupidity of me and my friends has been a common occurance in the first month of the program, certainly not limited to Ken's gelato incident. When I went to get my national health insurance card (they have universal health care here) I sat down at the desk I was directed to. Thinking the woman would initiate the process I just sat and waited and we both kind of stared at each other for more than a minute or two. Finally, starting to feel uncomfortable, I said "I need health insurance" in japanese. Clearly having made up her mind that I was special, she proceeded to explain everything to me very slowly in English. I hate being Englished.
Living in the U.S., surrounded by different kinds of communties and cultures, we are used to hearing all kinds of variations on English every day. There are different accents and vernaculars which are all recognizable as intelligible English. Most Japanese however have probably never spoken Japanese with someone who was not a native Japanese speaker. So aside from some regional variations, there is really only one Japanese and if you don't get your diction and accent right people are going to have a difficult time understanding you. One of my teachers here was explaining that even if you have beautiful diction and your grammar is perfect, if your accent is off people are going to think you are stupid. However, in many cases it seems like people are just flat out refusing to accept that you speak the language. I was at a tradtional japanese bar with some friends the other day and every time any of us would ask for something they would look confused, cup their hands over their ear and ask again what we wanted again.
For being in many respects extremely cosmopolitan there is still some significant anxiety about foreigners here. We were in this restaurant the other day, when this woman and her friend comes in a sits down next to us. Assuming that none of could understand Japanese, she begins by saying, "Man there sure are a lot of foreigners here," using gaijin the pejorative term for foreigners. Jerry, a friend from Tenesseee quickly leaned over to her table and responded in Japanese, "yeah, there sure are." The woman, completely mortified, got up an left.
These few cases aside, nearly all of my interactions with Japanese people here have been pretty pleasant. In fact today marks a significant moment in Japanese-U.S. relations as I'll be hanging out with a Japanese person unrelated to my program for the first time today. Her name is Keiko. We met at a Toru Takemitsu concert a few weeks ago and have been in e-mail contact. Today we are going to the musuem of modern art to see an exhibit of Isamu Noguchi's sculpture work. She doesn't speak much English so it should be a good Japanese lesson.
I know I've neglected this journal, but if anyone is still looking at it, I'll probably try to update at least once a week from here on out.

More Pictures

2005-09-23T16:32:00.000-07:00

Yoshio and Ian

Jon and Ken

Megumi - I love that name

Picture of Dan that sums up the evening

Max

Pictures

2005-09-22T18:45:00.000-07:00

Me and Mary Ann

Dan, the Wine, and the Cheese

The Group

Carnet de Voyage

2005-07-26T11:53:00.001-07:00

This will be a travel diary. Its central focus will be my day to day experiences in Japan, but it may at times degenerate into thoughts on what I'm reading, watching, and listening to. If things get really bad you may even encounter a complaint or two about school work or lovelessness. Hopefully, it won't come to that and my experiences will furnish sufficient material. Maybe this diary will end up being as revelatory as Goethe's Italian Journeys. It'll be my Japanische Reise. Yes, I'll soon tell of composing haiku in a new lovers arms, counting out the syllables along her spine. Wa-ka-ri-ma-su-ka? Well, maybe not...
For now enjoy this poem from Goethe's Roman Elegies :

Happy, I feel myself inspired now in this classical setting;
The ancient world and the present speak so clearly and evocatively
to me.
Here I follow the advice to page throug the works of the ancients,
Daily with busy hands and with renewed joy.
Ah, but throughout the night, Amor occupies me with other matters.
And if I wind up only half a scholar, I am yet doubly happy.
But do I not provide my own instruction, when I inspect the form
Of her lovely breats and guide my hands down her thighs?
Then I understand the marble aright for the first time: I think
and compare,
And see with feeling eye, and feel with seeing hand.
Though my beloved steals from me a few hours of the day.
She grants me in recompense hours of the night.
We don't spend all the time kissing, but have intelligent conversation;
When sleep overcomes her, I lie by her side and think over many things.
Often I have composed poetry while in her arms, and have softly
beat out
The measure of hexameters, fingering along her spine.
In her lovely slumber, she breathes out, and I inspire
Her warm breath, which penetrates deep into my heart.
Amor trims the lamp and remembers the time
When he performed the same service for his three poets.