久し振り! (It's been along time!, pronounced "hisashiburi")

OK, so I have neglected to make any meaningful posts, but, then again, I have neglected to do anything meaningful. That is to say, picture-laden and touristy. Since I last posted, I have spent a good deal of time with Yoko, learning Japanese at an incredible rate. I prefer to spend more time with her and many of my local friends because traveling through Japan is just too darned expensive (although the former is not cheap either).

Two weeks ago I went with some friends to Yokohama (横浜), which is the second largest city in Japan and a satellite of Tokyo. It's basically the Jersey City of Tokyo, if you know what I mean. Yokohama has grown into a sort of suburban city for the chumps who cannot afford to live in Tokyo (or are too smart to pay the usurious prices, I'm not sure). The premise of the trip was to: 1)go to the largest Chinatown in Japan, 2)go to some famous shopping mall, 3)go to the An Pan Man museum, 4)say we have been to Yokohama. I was accompanied primarily by Taiwanese women, so the first two are obvious. #3 is significant for anyone who grew up in either Japan or Taiwan as a kid, as An Pan Man was like what Thundercats was to me.

An Pan Man, as his name implies in Japanese, is a bean jam-filled bread (a popular, mediocre-tasting dessert over here) who fights with his arch-nemesis, Baikinman, or "Germ Man," who logically has a weakness to soap (so where is Soap Man?) See, in a country where there is a negligible amount of crime, this is what people worry about: germs. And believe me, the Japanese worry about it.

Here is An Pan Man:



Not much to report really: the girls were excited; I was curious but moderately bored and knee-deep in Japanese kids. Glad I got to see Yokohama though.

Otherwise, I have been spending time with Yoko. We went to the Ginza (銀座, "silver seat") neighborhood once, which is sort of like 5th Avenue in Tokyo and the home of the most expensive real estate in Japan. Sure, I had so much business being there. I did buy a pair of nice boots there for about $75, though. Ginza, by the way, as the name implies, was the original location of Tokyo and Japan's banking district. Yoko took the pics of the area, so she has to send them to me so that I can post them in the link to the right.

What else? I have been thinking alot about stuff. Important stuff. I will add my ruminations in the coming days. Also looking for work, both short-term and long-term. My English and Portuguese resumes are finally up to par, so now I am taking a crack at a Japanese resume (歴史 or レジメ, pronounced "rekishi" or "rejimay"). I am shuffling through the University of Chicago alumni database for Tokyo contacts to cultivate before I leave. The weather is funky: it was 70ish and sunny yesterday, 30ish and raining today. Oh, here is Yoko, since everyone was wondering:



Just kidding. Look in the Yokohama folder to the right, lazy bones.

Date at the Japanese Bath House (温泉, pronounced “onsen”)

So I blew my entire Thursday at the onsen with Yoko. What sounded like a great idea at first, wasn’t because they separate the sexes. I spent the better part of the day stark naked with other Japanese men.

Nevertheless, if you ever have the change to go to a Japanese bath house, do it. An onsen is sort of like a Disneyland of leisure: there is a middle area in which food, drinks, and odd souvenirs are sold while patrons relax from bathing (trust me, it’s necessary) surrounded by several “themes,” including an outside foot-bathing park with foot massaging rocks that hurt like hell, a full-body massage area, and an indoor/outdoor main bathing area. I never realized that you can do so much crap with water: regular shower, dry sauna, wet sauna, hot water tub, scalding hot water tub, muddy water cascading from rocks that I suppose is good for the skin tub, Jacuzzi, and some outdoor waterworks that I did not attempt.

When it was all done, I spent approximately 4 hours bathing, including 4 traditional showers.

I will post pics later (completely G-rated).

Lost in Translation

You knew that I was going to use that title eventually somewhere on this blog.

In any case, last Sunday I squeezed in some time during my hectic 9-hour per week class schedule to follow up with Yoko from Starbuck’s to go out.

Blah, blah, blah, usual date stuff. We went to eat and got some drinks afterwards. Typical Japanese woman: she was moderately drunk after 1 ½ screwdrivers. Eventually, the night came to a close when the battery on my electronic Japanese-English dictionary ran out of power (I laugh as I write this).

So as we are heading towards the trains, she asks me about a second date and what I would like to do. She mentioned earlier in the evening that she enjoyed going to an “onsen” (温泉) on the south side of Tokyo. I typically understood an “onsen” to be a natural water spring or waterfall, so I suggested that we go there next time for a good-natured viewing.

“Nani?! Hontoni?!” (“What?! Really?!”)

I regrouped, unsure what I had said wrong only to realize that an onsen is a Japanese Bath House. I stumbled a little and suggested some other activities, but told her that I would think about it and e-mail her later.

Anyway, we went to the onsen on Thursday. Haha!

Waseda University Judo Team

I joined the Waseda University Judo Team. I will post pictures as I collect them.

Waseda v. Keio Baseball Game

I am a student at Waseda; Keio is our rival university. The big game was on Saturday, November 1. A game of this caliber at an American university would be marked by drunken fighting, vandalism, and police (possibly in riot gear). However, as this is a country in which jaywalking is rare, all parties demonstrated the highest degree of civility.

Fans cheer at all times during Japanese baseball games, led by cheerleaders, a band, and something like a chant leader (see the pics). At the games conclusion, Waseda University, the visiting team, was permitted to perform its school song and cheer in complete silence, concluded with a tribute cheer to the Keio team and fans. The Waseda chant leader then commands silence from the Waseda fan base, turns to the Keio side, bows, and they begin their routine, again finished with an acknowledgement of Waseda’s team and fans.

Halloween

So my ultra-expensive (a perfect indicator of quality) Apple MacBook Pro’s 17” screen broke a week before Halloween, leaving me with no alternative than to either have it fixed by Apple for a perfectly reasonable price of $1250 or attempt to fix it myself for approximately $300. Naturally, I selected option 2 and headed to the Akihabara neighborhood of Tokyo, the side of town generally considered the Mecca of Electronics. Much to my chagrin, of the approximately 500 computer & electronic stores located there, not one had a replacement screen or even a repair shop that could service Macs. That’s the problem with Apple ownership: once you’ve bought one, you’ve given Steve Jobs a monopoly on its servicing.

Akihabara is also famous for its “maid cafes” in which pretty, petite Japanese women serve sodas, perhaps food also, I don’t know, to hapless schleps and play childish games with their clients while referring to them as “master” and other completely ridiculous aggrandizing statements. While patrolling the area for my non-existent replacement screen, I sidestepped numerous solicitations from these women to attend their cafes.


(This is what Akihabara maids are supposed to look like)

Since I was going with friends to a Halloween party, oh say, that evening and hadn’t purchased a costume or even conceived of a character that I wanted to be, I thought: “Golly, wouldn’t it be right funny if I dressed up like an Akihabara maid? My friends would get such a laugh out of it!” Yes, I actually thought that. And yes, I actually thought, “golly.”

Long story short: I bought a costume, it actually fit, I spent literally 5 minutes getting prepared, and that night I went to meet up with friends at school, which consisted of a short walk to the station, a 7 minute train ride, and a 15 minute walk to the campus from the train station. It felt like about 2 hours. Keep in mind that Halloween is a Western tradition that is only marginally observed in Japan; nobody in Tokyo dressed up for Halloween. I endured it all: complements, giggling, staring, cat calls, looks of general confusion by the local straights, and lastly a solicitation to perform in a rock band.

We made our way to the Ageha Club, which is evidently the largest night club in Tokyo with a capacity of approximately 3,000 people. That number was tested on Halloween night as the club was packed and there was a line to get in even at 4AM. We arrived at about 11:30PM to be roughly 1,000th in line. Shortly thereafter, while waiting in line, a security guard approached me to ask me if I wanted to be in the costume contest. After much cheering and cajoling from the evening’s cohort, I was taken out of line and directed to an auxiliary warehouse next to the club. Upon entering, I discovered that I was required to wait there until the contest began at 2AM (which became 3AM), beer would not be served in the warehouse, and that in my haste to get out of the line I left my IDs, keys, credit cards, and cash in one of the girls’ purse. I grabbed a seat, pissed that my Halloween was shot, and checked out my competition. Evidently, the Ageha Halloween costume contest is a big deal. These dummies were actually rehearsing performance routines, in some cases for the full 2 hours. I opted for vacant staring and napping. After about 30 minutes of abject boredom, I was directed to, I suspect, the contest ringleader:

“Hello, what is your concept?” He asked.
“Uhh… You have to ask? Big white guy dressed like an Akihabara maid.” I rejoined.
“What’s your name?”
“Matt.”
“No, your stage name?”
“Uhh… Matt, no… Yoko.” It’s the only Japanese female name that I could think of. I clearly was not prepared for this contest.

After the short exchange, I was directed to my seat, where I attempted another nap only to be interrupted by a Japanese student from Kyoto who introduced himself to me and began discussing his recent testicular cancer while wearing a set of fake women’s breasts. The boobs were part of his costume. I still don’t know what he was supposed to be. If there had been a gun within arm’s reach, I would have shot myself. No, better yet, I would have shot him.

Just as we, the ten finalists, were to be escorted to the stage, I discovered that I was paired with another contestant. She was the Snow Queen, an arbitrary character, accompanied by her boyfriend and colleague at art school. He spoke English, she didn’t. As they had clearly put some serious time into her costume, they wanted to do a routine and rehearse it. I didn’t. A big Akihabara Maid and a Snow Queen; what were we going to do?! “Look, I’ll walk out on stage do a few muscular poses. When I do this one (I mimic a double bicep pose), she comes out, walks around me, and I am enamored by her beauty. I will then pick her up and carry her off stage.” After quibbling over details until the very second I walk on stage, that was the plan that we executed.

So the contestants parade out on stage separately; I go tenth of 10. When I walk out there is a mild roar at my completely ridiculous outfit (or sexy legs, I’m not sure); I walk to the middle of the stage, curtsy, and then scratch my jock as I proceed down the catwalk. The jock-scratching is part of the act; I am in good health. I hit a few poses, the Snow Queen comes out, I carry her off: it went perfectly. Afterwards, there was an interview with 2 quasi-famous Japanese television celebrities who held the microphones for us and the 3 judges, all female models: one American, two Japanese. Don’t send me any e-mails afterwards asking me about this: yes, they were stunning.

So the first B-list TV celebrity dude asks me: “sdflkjf;lkasjdf;kjsiajv werfwpjpokvsmflskgvlnvn;owjfownjsnlksdnfkjshl desu ka?” (‘desu ka’ = ‘is?’)

To which I incisively rejoined: “huh?”

“You’re looking sexy tonight in that outfit tonight, baby!,” the American model notes in English, realizing that, despite the meticulously-assembled costume, I am not actually Japanese.

“Thank you, baby,” I returned, or some nonsense like that.

Kindly note that the Snow Queen is a native Japanese speaker and they did not ask her anything.

Just before the judging phase, all contestants were paraded onto the stage again. While all these knuckleheads were dancing around, I walked around the stage, looking into the crowd for my friends. Who knew that trying to find about a dozen Taiwanese students in a crowd of 3,000 Japanese people would be that difficult? I looked down, noticed someone waving their hand for me to shake, so I obliged. Then another, and another. I ended up walking around the entire stage twice shaking hands, while a few different people shouted, “you’re the best!” and “you’re number one!” I am not making this up. After a while, I discovered one girl in the crowd who was really into it, so I tried to pull her up on stage only to get blocked by a security guard. He was mad. The security team was not enjoying their evening. Maybe they should have dressed like women, too.

So we went to the judging, and I won (the Snow Queen tagged along, too). I began screaming in jubilation, jumped off the podium that I shared with all contestants, and rushed to the center stage where we were presented a placard that read in Japanese: “10,000 Yen ($1000) and a Trip to NY.”

“Did we just win this?” I asked the Snow Queen in Japanese. She shook her head yes. That was the first time that I was aware of any prize.

I kept shouting and acting like an idiot and included (pardon the terse language) a “fuck yeah!” in my repertoire.

Not to be outdone, the Snow Queen (again, no English) confusedly punctuates the celebration with “fuuiiiikkyeeuuuh!” Good enough.

Long story short: we retreat back to the warehouse to bicker over dividing the prize, I reenter the club to find my friends in two minutes, and it takes an hour and a half to leave because I am accosted by Japanese women who want to take pictures with me (I am still not making this up). It was ridiculous; I lost my friends twice in the 2000 ft. walk to the door.

We eventually leave the club grounds around 5:30AM to face an hour commute back home, precisely at the time most Japanese salarymen are boarding to go to work. No worries; at this point I have the drill down: cover yourself with the dress when you sit down or walk up or down the stairs. I arrive at Harajuku Station around 6:30AM and the first thing I encounter is a cab driver gawking at me while making thumbs up gestures at me while driving. The dumbass almost wrecked his car.

Finally, I get home and go to bed at around 7AM. As a side note, I was completely sober during this whole affair.

I wake up the next morning (3 hours later) naturally at around 10AM. With nothing to do, I shower and head to Starbucks for my morning coffee. As I am sitting in Starbucks trying to get my act together, one of the female Starbucks employees encounters me and begins hitting on me in Japanese. Wait, was I still wearing my costume? I double checked and confirmed that I was wearing pants. At this point I almost called timeout, but I obliged. She divulged all of her information and we’ve been on a few dates since. But that will be in other posts.

I am still amassing the photos for Halloween, including the photos backstage taken by the Snow Queen’s boyfriend. The best pictures unfortunately are in the cameras of about 40-50 random Japanese women somewhere on the island.

Kyoto Trip

I finished my Portuguese fluency exam, all in one day no less. I was originally slated to take the written exam on Tuesday and the oral exam on Wednesday, but they pushed me through from 1:30PM to 8:00PM. I felt like I did well, but who knows what errors will surface when they begin to grade it.

I overslept on Tuesday, the day I was to depart, and did not leave the house until about 2:00, without a train ticket or a confirmed place to stay in Kyoto. I eventually took care of the train business, arriving in Kyoto at about 5PM. I then called the Bed & Breakfast where I thought I had a reservation only to find out that I did not. So I was in Kyoto, no idea where I was, no place to stay, no clue where my exam was to be conducted the following day: No worries. I walked around and found a hotel in central Kyoto within 15 minutes, settled in, and received a phone call shortly thereafter from the B&B wondering where I was. Evidently, he misunderstood that when I previously called I already had a reservation and was calling simply for directions. In any case, I confirmed that I still wanted to hold the reservation that I had for the following two days.

I completed the written exam by 4PM on Wednesday, which gave me ample time to commute across town to check-in to the B&B during the 5-9PM time allotted, but I discovered then that my 30 minute oral exam was moved to that evening at 8PM. I did not want to attempt the commute in the interim between the exams as I neither understood the layout of the city nor wanted to waste $120 in cab fare for both ways, so I called the B&B to obtain an address because I would have to take a cab and to explain that I may be a few minutes late. After a few language-obstructed, awkward exchanges, he urged me to take the subway across town and then catch the #17 bus uptown to something like “King Li Circle,” the supposed last stop that is a non-Japanese-sounding name that was not on the map.

I did everything as instructed, only to find the #17 bus displayed no map in the bus’s interior and the stops were named according to the district and not the street names in contradistinction to my map (this is actually an all too common source of problems in getting directions in Japan). After about 10 minutes en route, doubt began to creep in when I realized we had been driving for some time, my best estimates indicated that we had driven off my map, streets lights were decreasing in frequency on our route, and I boarded the bus at stop #3 of 30. Remember, I am supposed to go the last stop.

At this point I called the B&B again at 8:45PM with no answer. By 9PM, I conceded that it was a lost cause and got off at about stop #15 in the middle of nowhere, walked across the street to the bus stop going back into town, and waited under a small canopy in the rain without my umbrella that I left on the bus in my haste to get off with 2 bags of my stuff that I had been carrying all day. The #6 bus appear promptly 30 minutes later, I boarded asking the bus driver if the bus went to Kyoto Station; he said no. I then asked if it went towards lights; he said yes, so I said let’s go.

I returned to central Kyoto, only to stay in the same hotel as the night before. At this point, I was desperately low on cash with no American bank in the vicinity. On Thursday, I woke up, toured the city in the rain despite most tourist attractions being closed, spent my remaining cash on lunch, and left for Tokyo that night.

There are some lame-ass pictures in the link to the right.

Weekend in Roppongi

I went to the Roppongi neighborhood twice this weekend, once with a group of friends on Friday night to just go out and again with someone on Sunday night to the Mori Museum. I will preface this entry with the caveat that I forgot my camera (yes, both times) and did not take any pictures. However, that may not be entirely a disadvantage, given the usual activity that goes on in the district under discussion.

Roppongi is like any U.S. city's Chinatown (I know this is Japan) in reverse; it is where all the Westerners live. Accordingly, everything in the area caters to Western needs: Western restaurants, clothing shops, bookstores, etc. I had been warned that it is also a bit of a meat market: Japanese women converge in the area to meet gaijin men and Nigerian dudes accost Caucasian men to persuade them to go to their clubs and peep shows.

This became evident when I arrived at Roppongi Station a good 15 minutes before my party and decided to have a look around. I was fortunate enough to make it out of the station and across the street before the first of perhaps 20 dudes solicited me to “go upstairs… real Japanese women… hot and steamy… do you like leather?... anything you want… fulfill your fantasies…” By the time I made it to the end of the street, I was on the phone to my friends begging them to hurry up.

When my friends arrived, we decided to go to Outback's Steakhouse to experience the local cuisine. The party consisted of approximately 12 Taiwanese students, one Japanese student, and me. Everyone formed a protective boundary around me as we walked down the street, but evidently the Nigerian Brotherhood has seen this tactic before as they penetrated the force field with ease. It doesn't help that I am a foot taller than everyone else. The most ridiculous aspect of their solicitations is that at this point I had been subjected to an equal number of moderately drunk (i.e., 1 pint of beer) Japanese women leering at me.

Outback's was great: they didn't serve any dishes with rice; the waitresses spoke better English than I do; and we engaged at least 3 times in the Japanese tradition of singing “Happy Basuday” to patrons who may or may not have actually had a birthday that night. It's the same song in English, but you clap through the whole damned thing and the Japanese can't make the th sound in “birthday.” Fortunately, my friends brought their cameras and shared their photos, which can be found in the photo gallery.

We had intended to go to the infamous nightclubs in the area, but we eventually wasted the entire night at Outback's and left prompted afterwards so as to catch the last train of the night. This may have been for the better given what I have heard about aforementioned nightclubs, because I did not want to spent the rest of my life soaking in a vat of penicillin.

Sunday night was much more tame. Roppongi slows down on Sundays and actually might be deemed “inhabitable.” I went with Ashley, also from Taiwan, to the Mori Museum to see an Annette Messenger (French) exhibit that was as Catholic as the Pope. I was sure that I was going to end up explaining all of the esoteric Western/Christian elements inherent in the pieces only to discover that she understood it better than I did.

The museum's admission ticket includes access to the roof on the 53rd floor, which gives a stunning panoramic of Tokyo. It's so nice that I will eventually return just to take pictures.

Miscellaneous Notes:

I am leaving for Kyoto in like 2 hours, where I will be through the following weekend.

Recent Weird Food

Here are some culinary masterpieces that I have been able to choke down and keep there:

Green Tea Ice Cream

Shrimp-flavored Corn Chips

First Day of Business School classes

I have been attending Japanese language classes for about two weeks now, but today was my first B-school class, "Corporate and Business Strategy."  This is my replacement for "Managing Across Cultures," the ill-fated class with Professor Grossberg if you have read my previous posts.

When I walked into my new class, I introduced myself to the professor who knew who I was.  

-"You're from Chicago, right?"

-"Yes, how did you know?"

-"You're the big guy.  I have heard about you.  I was also on the admissions committee."

He heard about me?  News can't travel that fast.  

In any case, class was good; met 6 or 7 new students.  Two of the exchange students were in the class; they had transferred from "Managing Across Cultures," too.  They were not fans either; in fact, they reported that Prof. G has built a reputation on campus as being disagreeable.  So see, it's not me.

Sundays in Yoyogi Park

This was a comparatively uneventful weekend for me as I stayed in Tokyo while everyone that I knew went to Chiba (about an hour train ride east of Tokyo) for the Tokyo Game Show, an annual video game exhibition. Seriously, everyone went to that damned thing.

In any case, I took a stroll through Yoyogi Park, which houses the Meiji Shrine amongst other things. Just when I was prepared to crown Central Park the “weirdest park of all time,” I walk through this one.

Check out the sweet pics to the right.

Be Careful What You Wish For…

You just might get it. If you have been following my blog, the post titled, “One-Month Anniversary” reports that I miss “acrimony with other city dwellers.” Well, last week I got some. When I reported my class schedule to Chicago GSB, my coordinator at the International Office reported that I was one class short for complete credit in the study abroad program. Accordingly, I signed up for an additional course, but one week late. I attended the second scheduled class, but to my chagrin no one was there. I then consulted with the Waseda Business School's Program Office to discover that class in fact was slated for that day and no cancellation was reported. Logically, I contacted the professor to insure that I was properly informed:

Hello Prof. Grossberg,

I attended your "Managing Across Cultures" class yesterday in Room 609, but no one was there. I assumed that that particular session was cancelled or rescheduled. I did not attend the previous class, so any information that was relayed at that time, I did not receive it.
As I have signed up for this class, please let me know if the class is still in session and its location and time.

Thank you,

Matthew Drane

I thought that my query was reasonable and well written, but the professor evidently disagreed evidenced by the two e-mails that I received in response:

Dear Matthew,

There's always one. I told my class at the first meeting that we would not be meeting yesterday because it was Yom Kippur, and asked them to tell anyone of their colleagues who intended to join the class that there would be no class on Oct. 9, and under no circumstances to go to the office to ask where I was. So obviously you did not hear it from any of the many students who attended the first session. We will meet on schedule next week, Oct. 16, but I suggest you stop by my office (room 502, 5th floor) before then to sign up, since you don't seem to be "in the loop" with your fellow students.

KAG

and...

I just took a look at the class sign-up sheet and realized that you were in class on Oct. 2. How could you have missed my announcement that there would be no class on Oct. 9? I must have repeated it at least 4 times, and even joked with the class about hoping that everyone got the message. KAG

I attempted a response, but I was at school using a Japanese keyboard that Chicago GSB's mail server did not seem to recognize. When I arrived home later that day, I discovered this third e-mail regarding the second e-mail that he had sent:

Dear Matt, My apologies. This email was sent incorrectly. Please disregard, and come see me in room 502 next week.Rgds,KAG

Nevertheless, I lost my everlasting mind. Here's how a gentleman says, “F@%K YOU!” Kindly note the discriminating use of the semi-colon:

Dear Professor Grossburg,

You must be kidding. It is in both of our interests that I not come to your office.
As you have properly deduced, I was not in class on October 2nd. Your class was not under consideration until a coordinator from my home school informed me that I needed to enroll in an additional course, a message that I received on October 4th.

That “there is always one” arouses suspicion that the fault of miscommunication lies with you. Perhaps the conspicuously outmoded word-of-mouth method of relaying critical information is inappropriate for business school, particularly one of Waseda University's supposed caliber. If you are going to send me two caustic e-mails unprovoked, be a man and stick to your guns; do not send me an apology afterwards.

Given the clumsy and unprofessional manner by which you have handled this correspondence, I suspect that there is nothing about business or management that you can teach me. Moreover, I have elected to drop your class for another. What qualifies you to teach “Managing Across Cultures” if you cannot manage your own classroom?

Kindly refrain from contacting me further in any manner. Should you insist, I will deem it an act of provocation and will relish the opportunity to seek remedial action that I judge to be suitable.

Sincerely,

Matthew Drane

I get so tired of the scorn and childish antics of "academics." I am putting them on notice.

Cultural Notes: 笑み (Smile) Differences in Facial Expressions between U.S. and Japan

I unearthed this gem from the internet, which explains why nobody smiles in Tokyo:

In the United States the emoticons : ) and : - ) denote a happy face, whereas the emoticons :( or : - ( denote a sad face. However, Japanese tend to use the symbol (^_^) to indicate a happy face, and (;_;) to indicate a sad face. When participants were asked to rate the perceived levels of happiness or sadness expressed through the different computer emoticons, the researchers found that the Japanese still looked to the eyes of the emoticons to determine its emotion.

"We think it is quite interesting and appropriate that a culture that tends to masks its emotions, such as Japan, would focus on a person's eyes when determining emotion, as eyes tend to be quite subtle," said Masuda. " In the United States, where overt emotion is quite common, it makes sense to focus on the mouth, which is the most expressive feature on a person's face."

Japanese Advantage in Detecting Liars?

The results also suggest the interesting possibility that the Japanese may be better than Americans at detecting "false smiles". If the position of the eyes is the key to whether someone's smile is false or true, Japanese may be particularly good at detecting whether someone is lying or being "fake". However, these questions can only be answered with future research.

Sounds too scientific for me. Here is my hypothesis:

One-Month Anniversary

This last Saturday was my 1-month anniversary here in Tokyo, Japan. Here's what I miss so far:

-Skim Milk
-Free ATM withdrawals
-Acrimony with other city-dwellers

Saturday Night Dinner

A friend here had a birthday, so we went to a "yakitori," a Japanese BBQ restaurant. Here's what I ate:

-Liver of something

-Chicken Ass (specifically the chicken's tail, but it was introduced to me as the former)

-5 different Nigiri-Sushi (raw fish)

-A few miscellaneous, unknown items

-6 Krispy Kreme doughnuts

I wonder where all this fits on the chart above?

Giants Game: 野球 ("baseball", pronounced "yakyuu")

I went to the Yomiyuri Giants game here in Tokyo with my business school colleagues as relief from our stressful first week of classes. See the game coverage in only 105 pictures in the Photo Gallery to the right!!!

Language Count

Languages used in Japan: 3

Japanese
English
Portuguese

I spoke to a man in Portuguese today since he spoke neither English nor Japanese. Portuguese is especially popular in Japan; for example, ATM's are usually available in Japanese, Korean, English, and Portuguese. I have heard quite a bit of Brazilian music in restaurants as well.

One of my Japanese language professors is from Brazil; she was delighted when I told her that I practiced Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu.

Sensou-ji Shrine (金龍山浅草寺) & Asakusa Shrine (浅草寺)

Sensou-ji Shrine & Asakusa Shrine

The Sensou-ji (浅草寺, “shallow grass temple”) and Asakusa Shrines (also the 三神様, pronounced Sanjin-sama, “Shrine of the Three Gods”) are coincidentally located in the Asakusa (浅草, “shallow grass”) neighborhood of Tokyo. I went with some of my colleagues from the Business School.

The Sensou-ji is Tokyo's oldest and most significant Buddhist temple, dedicated to the Bodhisattva Kannon (the Goddess of Mercy). The legend is that two fishermen brothers found a statue of Kannon in the Sumida River in 628 AD, an article that the village chief instantly deemed sanctified and for which he began remodeling his home to properly house. Historical records indicate that the remodeling began in 645 AD, making it the oldest temple in Tokyo. Off the record, a 17-year gap between the discovery and the remodeling does not strike me as “instantly remodeling” but please consider that people lived life slower in those days.

Unfortunately, the original was bombed during World War II, so the temple today is mostly a replica. Since the History Channel has moved away from their usual 24-7 coverage of WWII to focus on more important historical gems like “Ice Road Truckers” marathons and “UFO Hunters,” I was completely unaware of this fact.

The Asakusa Shrine is a Shinto shrine adjacent to it that commemorates the efforts of the two brothers and the village chief. Evidently, there is no conflict having Shinto and Buddhist shrines on the same grounds.

Additionally, the temple grounds have become a popular site for carrying out important Buddhist and Shinto traditions, including the Sanja Matsuri festival in May, which commemorates the three previously mentioned persons in May for about 4 days, and selling useless souvenirs to tourists which lasts for about 361 days, commemorating the opportunity to sell people things they normally wouldn't buy and at a premium price.

Meiji Shrine (明治神宮, pronounced Meiji Jinguu)

Last week I went to the Meiji Shrine in Yoyogi Park, which is basically my back yard. The photos can be found in the Photo Gallery Link on the right.

A Brief History
The Meiji Period (明治時代), also known as the Meiji Restoration, lasted from 1868-1912, which represents Japan's modernization from the previous 265-year Tokugawa Shogunate and, thus, emergence as a world power.

In 1867, Shogun Tokugawa Yoshinobu resigned from his position and relinquished all power to Emperor Meiji, the latter of whom then recently assumed his role with the death of the previous Emperor Koumei.  (By the way, the Western Roman Empire “fell” in a similar matter, when the then ironically named Emperor Romulus was told in 476 AD that his services were no longer needed and, thus, free to leave).  In any case, shortly after Yoshinobu resigned, the Boshin War began, people died, the Emperor wins and formally declares his right to rule.  The subsequent Meiji Restoration puts industrialization in high gear and cleans up the mess of the Daimyo geographical rule and the Shogunate military rule.  If I may draw parallels to the West again, think of the move from mercantilism and the petty bourgeoisie to industrialization, which occurred in England, for example, in the mid-1800s.  The premise is that de jure political participation was accessible by the society at large and that political rule no longer resided solely in the hands of the previous shogunate.On July 30, 1912, the Emperor Meiji died, which gave way to the Taishou Period (1912-1926), the Shouwa Period (1926-1989), and the present Heisei Period (1989-Present).  I will cover these later on my blog in the future. Anyway, the Emperor died; the people want to pay their respects; you get a shrine. Officially, the Meiji Shrine is a Shinto shrine dedicated to the spirits of Emperor Meiji and Empress Shouken.

While I was snooping around the temple, I caught a glimpse of a Shinto wedding procession.  The associated pictures are in the "Meiji Shrine" folder in the Photo Gallery as well.

Initial Musings

Simply put, Tokyo is an amazing city, seemingly endless and reasonably busy at all times. However, I am most impressed with its citizens who have greeted me with the highest degree of civility and cordiality.

I typically spend the better part of my mornings at a local Starbuck's that shares an entrance with the neighboring office building. Thus, at any point in time there is an almost constant flow of either customers or businesspeople through the door, all of whom the Starbuck's employees will duly and indiscriminately greet with either an “irasshaimase!” (“welcome, please come in!”) or an “ohayou gozaimasu!” (“good morning!”) upon arrival and an “arigatou gozaimasu!” (“thank you very much!”) upon departure. Every employee to every entrant. Remarkably, the energy with which the exclamations are dealt is the same at 2PM as it is at 8AM.

Politeness seems to represent big business in, at least, Tokyo, if not Japan at large. The government and local businesses employ armies of people to do seemingly menial tasks, the magnificence of which eludes most Americans, particularly senior executives who have downsized similar jobs in the U.S. decades ago. A local department store that I frequent has not only a store greeter but also floor greeters who do precisely that and nothing else. Eleven floors, each with a greeter. Make no mistake; these are not the half-assed greetings that you might receive at, say, Wal-Mart. It is not uncommon to take two steps off of the escalator and be greeted promptly and emphatically by an adorable little Japanese woman who is immeasurably happy that you have decided to visit the third floor.

Perhaps the most illustrative anecdote that I can provide occurred last Friday, when I was trying to find the post office to mail my JLPT (Japanese Language Proficiency Test) application (on the deadline, of course). I gathered what I thought was the correct address for the post office from Google the night before. After walking around what I thought was the correct address for about 20 minutes, I stopped a police officer to get better directions. He promptly took me up the block to his office to get his map, detailed the necessary directions for me, and even employed the help of a passerby to assure that his directions were, in fact, correct. I did as instructed (his directions were correct), only to walk into, I think, a culinary school. I somewhat rhetorically asked the woman behind the counter if it was a post office. She assured me that it was not and proceeded to give me the necessary directions. When it was evident that I did not understand (streets in Tokyo are quite confusing), she got up from her seat, put her shoes on, and escorted me the three blocks to the post office's front door.

I am taking it in while I have it because I will miss it when I am gone.

Welcome to Japan

Orbis terrarum liber est, et illi qui non commeant modo unam paginam legunt.                                                                                                -St. Augustine

 Finally, this site is up and running.  Within you will find my journal archive in which I will recount various musings and anecdotes as they happen, a cumulative photo gallery, and cultural notes drawn both from study and direct observation.  I have translated this page into, at present, four other languages:  Japanese, Portuguese, Spanish, and French.  There are a few people that I know who are native speakers of these languages, but I have done it primarily as a pretext to practice my language skills.  If you think you can translate any of the pages better or if you have noticed egregious grammatical errors (there are bound to be a few), I welcome any salient suggestions.