Conclusion
Enjoy!

A Gaijin in Tokyo

Friday, March 8, 2002, 02:25 p.m. :||: recomendation
So you wanna go karaoke-ing in Tokyo. In that case, allow me to recommend you a karaokekan in Ikebukuro. I don't know the name of the place, but you'd have to be blind to not see the moving 3D Dragon attached to the building.

It's near the West Exit of the Ikebukuro train station, and it's a few stores down from the, um, um, a bookstore that has a name that resembles the word "horny." See? easy to find!

The inside is set to a European Medieval Castle, complete with dungeon-like walls and coats of armors in the hallway.

This has been Tokyo Gaijin's advertisement of the day. Please have a nice day. And please ignore the money I am being given by the karaoke people. This is a non-sponsered blog.

Friday, March 8, 2002, 01:42 p.m. :||: Reasons for Happiness
Oh, I knew in advance that I'd be making stupid mistakes in Japanese. I just thought they would be stupidity mistakes, not that they would, um... um... yeah. You'll see what I mean.

[Sensei walks into the classroom.]

Sensei: Ohayou gozaimasu. (Good morning).

All of Us: Ohayou gozaimasuuu!!! (Gooood Morning!!)

Sensei: Genki desu yo ne. (Cheerful today, aren't we?)

[Isabel sparkles and smiles and stuff]

Isabel: Kyou wa totemo kirei nan dakara! (That's because today [is] so pretty!)

[Reminder: In Japanese, the subject of the sentence can be dropped. So I didn't specify the subject.]

[Sensei is rather bewildred at this.]

Sensei: ...Itsumo kirei ja nai? (...Isn't [it] always pretty?)

Isabel: Demo kyou wa toku ni kirei! (But today especially!)

Sensei: ....

Isabel: Hora, kyou no sora wa konna ni aoi! (Look at how blue the sky is!)

Sensei: Aa... jaa, "tenki wa ii" o itta hou gai ii yo. (Aa... it would be better to say, "the weather is good.")

Isabel: ????

Because I had apparently made the sensei think that I was calling HIM especially pretty that day. We fairly died of embarrassment that day. So, excuse me, I shall break out of verbal language for a moment.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXD AAAAARGH!

There, done. But he's a wonderfully... odd... person, so it was all good.

Later on in class, he commented on how softly I answer questions (instead of, "it's A!", I say something like, "isn't it A?"). "But, it's constrasting to the way you sit with your leg hitched up on the chair next to you and your pant leg pulled up to your knee."

I'll miss that sensei, I swear. It was our last class together. Now who's going to go into a seizure of happiness when teaching us about new kanji?

Wednesday, March 6, 2002, 01:37 p.m. :||: Vending Machine Restaurant!
The latest Japanese, um, modern tradition that has amused me: ticket-restaurants. Before going into the restaurant, you look at the menu, decide what you want to eat, and then buy a ticket for it at a vending machine. You then take the ticket inside, give it to a person, and they proceed to make the meal for you. Is this simply to reduce the amount of necessary talking?

Wednesday, March 6, 2002, 01:17 p.m. :||: Requirements and Conditions
Yuzu-chan, the four year old daughter of my host family, is rather tempermental with me. One moment I'm "wan-wan" (the sound a dog makes in Japanese), and she's ordering me around to take a bath and eat dinner (though it might not sound like it, treating me like a dog means that she likes me), and then the next moment she "dai kirai"s me. (dai kirai==hate). She stops dai kirai-ing me easily enough, though. Apologies, drawings, and/or time heals her anger.

I would stop making her hate me, but I never know why she suddnely turns against me.

So a couple of days ago, I was lazing around the living room when Yuzu-chan, hiding the lower part of her face behind her beloved pink towel, issues a declaration of hate.

"I'm sorry," I say automaticaly. "What did I do wrong?"

"I hate you." Yes, that explains everything.

So I sit down, and wordlessly try to express my feelings of sadness and guilt. I do that a lot, here. I mean, trying to express myself without words.

She hopped onto her Tigger-Scooter (I'm amazed that the second floor's floor is still so pretty despite the Tigger-Scooter), "I'll forgive you if [blank] meet(s) a Brazilian."

(In Japanese, it is grammatically acceptable to throw the subject out of a sentence. So in this case, it could be Yuzu, me, or some random person meeting a Brazilian).

Because I have some logical capacities (not much), this didn't make much sense to me. I figured that the problem was with my language skills. But, no, even after I had her repeat it, I understood that if someone met a Brazilian, I'd be forgiven. Baffled, I went away.

The next morning I asked Masako-san (my host mother) to explain the mystery to me. Yuzu-chan, who was being fed breakfast (by Masako-san), declared that I was the one who had to meet a Brazilian. Since I was going to go to the Banco do Brasil that weekend, I promised her that I'd meet a Brazilian soon.

"Oh, but I already forgave you. I thought it over last night, and realized it wasn't necessary." What "it" was exactly (hating me, meeting a Brazilian, etc), I'm glad she changed her mind. Who can understand four-year olds, anyway?! Scarier than that, though, is that she was utterly adorable the whole time.

Wednesday, March 6, 2002, 11:22 a.m. :||: uwaki shitara, paaanchi!
I make random discoveries, you see.

I knew before that "uwaki" was a word to refer to somebody cheating on their spouse/lover/romantic other.

I knew the kanji for the word with "u" and some "w" sound in it that meant floating.

And now I think that kanji is the same one used for "uwaki." That's a much nicer way to refer to cheating, isn't it? You're floating away from the partner you promised to be true to. It's even almost romantic.

Wednesday, March 6, 2002, 11:19 a.m. :||: Daily Mystery
Every morning, on my way to the train station, a sign tells me to "be particular about one thing... soft water." It is my daily mystery (amongst many)! What, exactly, is soft water? If I remember correctly from my science classes, it's water with low amounts of metal mixed into it (because water is the universial, erm, mixer?, it is nearly impossible to find it in a pure state). But why should I be particular about it? Is it a health issue? Is it a company wanting me to sell their wares? If nothing else, at least I'm particular about thinking about being particular to soft water.

Saturday, March 2, 2002, 03:21 p.m. :||:
Following the Guiri's reccomendation, I went over to a small park in Setagayaku by the name of Hanegi. ("ha" for wing, "ne" is a character I don't know, and "gi" is tree.) I myself live in Setagayaku, but it felt like an entirely different place. This section was much more relaxed and low-key. People talked more, and in more informal language. About half the people were over sixty. I liked it there.

Saturday, March 2, 2002, 03:02 p.m. :||: Showing the Obvious
One of the amusing things of Shibuya-- and there are many, trust me-- is the nature of one of the huge tvs that decorate the buildings in front of the train station. They're huge, they have a large audience, and if you're being shown on it, you're hot stuff. Or are on your way to being hot stuff.

So when they show a music video on the screen-- which happens most of the time-- they will invariably throw in a shot of the music video being played on the huge Shibuya tv screen. Now, a picture of this in a magazine, or on a normal tv, would make sense. It would make me think, "wow, they're so popular that they appeared on the Shibuya tv screen!" But if I'm watching that tv, I already know that they're on it, and don't need to be told so. So it's pointless, isn't it?

Did that even make any sense? Oh, be quiet.

Friday, March 1, 2002, 02:29 p.m. :||: Randomsity
I love how being in Tokyo, no matter how random a place I go, it automatically has some nifty history behind it. Yesterday the exchange students were taken to have shamisen lessons in Nippori. I thought Nippori was just another stop off the Yamanote line (I should know by now that nothing on the Yamanote line is un-extrodinary), but of course it isn't. It's filled to the brim with temples.

It's a quiet place, filled with small avenues that aren't large enough to fit a car through, and cats prowl around as if they own the place. (though there was this one cat that was freaky-- he was perched on a motor cycle, all tensed up, as if he was either about to pounce something, or if he was really nervous. And he didn't move. Not once. Not even when Guiri went to pet him, or as we walked away. What was up with that?)

(Random note: a shamisen is one of the traditional Japanese instruments. It's a guitar-type thing with only three strings, and sometimes the sound reminds me of a banjo. I believe they use it to play the music at kabuki...? I may be mistaken.)

I am going to have a Japanese style house when I grow up, I've decided. And I will wear a kimono all the time. Because kimonos and tatami mats are the best.

After the lesson was over, as we were walking back, I find this sign talking a bit about the area. And it turns out to be the place where the famous historical event of the 47 samurai avenging their master (the one that Kurosawa based his film on). No wonder the shrine density was so high there!

Friday, March 1, 2002, 02:21 p.m. :||: Path to the Stars
I was walking around Shibuya, because I love Shibuya and it's a hip place to be. That, and I have to go there twice a day anyway.

It was night, and while I'm usually too busy looking at the people and the stores, I don't pay much attention to anything else. But for whatever reason, I looked up, and saw the moon. It had been a long time, so I waved to her. I looked around for her friends, the stars, when I realized that there weren't any stars. None. Not even the planets were visible.

I remember a few years ago, while traveling in Brazil, we went to a place in the middle of nowhere (with a name something like, "Aza Verde"). There, the skies weren't so much star-light as glitter had been poured all over. Beautiful, gorgeous.

No wonder nobody ever looks up here. There's nothing to see.

Friday, March 1, 2002, 02:07 p.m. :||: ikebana
I have come to realize that I could never be an ikebana (flower ceremony) master. It's far too brutal!

Brutal, you ask? How? You play around with flowers. Maybe if you hit people with the flowers it would be brutal, but other than that... well, I assure you that it is most definitely brutal. The violence and gore is well-hidden, that's all. But it's still there!

For example, how do you think that the flowers stay standing? Pure will-force? A special anti-gravity field? No, the base of the flowers are stabbed onto this brush thingy with metal spikes. The sort of think fahkirs lie down on to impress tourists and get lots of money. Ouch.

But more than that, ikebana isn't about the natural beauty of the flowers. If you want that, go walk in the wild/in a park. Those are natural. But in ikebana you twist the flowers around, you pluck the "excess" and "ugly" parts off.

Ikebana is where humans take plants and mangle them according to their pleasure.

Of course, the results are beautiful. But I couldn't do it. At the class I attended, it hurt to watch the sensei peel off the leaves, and break off the branches. They were so pretty in and of themselves.

I may be, of course, a wimp.

Tuesday, February 26, 2002, 03:37 p.m. :||: Permanence, or the Lack of It
Some things are new here. Like eating raw eggs, taking the train every day, the eccentric commercials, and video games with Michael Jackson as a side-character.

Other things, however, will never change. For example, I still scream embarrasingly loud when pounced upon. And Guiri still enjoys sneaking upon me. I just kind half wish she wouldn't do it in the middle of the street!

Gina, who had been walking on the opposite side of the road, says that Guiri had been stalking me, in an obvious comedical manner, for a ten minutes. Furthermore, she had been wearing bright neon colored clothing that would be visible even in the dark. Oh, and she heard me scream.

What can I say? I'm oblivious to the outside world!

Thursday, February 21, 2002, 02:18 p.m. :||: Hiroshima, Day Two
(If you want to read about this trip in chronological order, go to the entry before this one. I apologize for the inconvience of scrolling down the screen).

The second day I would classify as "perfect."

After breakfast, we trekked over to Miyajima. Miyajima being the island where, um... of course I would forget the name. It's the place where the super-anicent-famous Torii gates stand in the water (dad, the book on Asian Religions we have at home has a picture). At any rate, it's an island steeped in tradition. Full of forests, shrines, animals, and of course, tourists. But not so many, because it's more popular in the spring and autumn (Hiroshima is, after all, famous for its momiji-- red autumn leaves. Think of the Canadian flag).

Why was the day perfect? Because it snowed. Not heavy snow-- most of it was gone by the time it hit the ground. But it was soft, comforting, light, the way you see it in romantic movies. It was even sunny. Don't there have to be clouds for it to snow? Walking through the trees, riding the sky trolley over the forets, looking over the islands from the top of the mountain, watching the monkeys and the deer, with the snow was one of the most soothing experiences I've ever had. I would have been happy to pull out a sketch book and spend years drawing there, in that sort of environment. (Albeit the snow would wet my sketch book.) I can still remember standing directly in front of the sea red Torii, looking straight through, with the water beneath me... I wanted to jump in and swim towards it. I really did.

The contrast between the first and second day (the first dedicated to recent events, showing both how fragile and strong human culture is, and the second to show the longevity humanity can enjoy with nature) also made for good thinking material on the plane back home.

Thursday, February 21, 2002, 01:12 p.m. :||: Hiroshima, Day One
Because I'm a generally confused girl, I'm not entirely sure why a trip to Hiroshima was arranged for us exchange students, but it was. Nor am I complaining. I am most definitely not complaining. I don't think I would have gone there this year (I have other places I want to visit), but I was happy for the opportunity.

So on Monday morning, Tanabe-sensei, Tanabei-sensei's daughter, the Exchange Student Threesome (Guiri, Gina, Me), and another foreign-exchange student (Jyuu-san from Korea) parted for a two-day trip to Hiroshima. Two days doesn't seem like much, but it wasn't my choice, so.

On the first day, we visted the Memorial Area-- the Genbaku Dome, the Museum, and the park with the fire. For those of you who don't know, this was the area where the nuclear bomb was dropped on August 6, 8:15am. There are several memorial pieces, including the fire for peace (it will go on burning until all nuclear weapons are dismantled), the Genbaku Dome (one of the few buildings that survived the blast-- all that is left is the skeletal structure), and a statue to... I forget her name (Saeko), but she was the one who tried to create 1000 cranes so that she would heal (she died trying).

It was strange, looking at memorial garden. There were people riding by on bikes, grass growing, warm sun, and normal every-day buildings all around. The tenacity impressed me. If it were by me, that area would be left to do this very day, for fear of memories and nuclear residue. But no, people go on living, hardly notice the place (This changes, I'm sure, on the anniversary of the event). But no, they kept right on living there, even though when they first started re-building people died left and right.

On the one hand, while this tenacity is certainly admirable, I also can't help but think of...

The museum... we read a few articles before hand discussing/complaining about this museum and the Smithsonian exhibit of Enola Gay. So I walked in with a firm image set in my mind, and my current opinion is probably prejudiced by what I read. The museum took on a factual tone of voice, reporting the damage (to themselves) without any melodrama. They did mention the surrounding war a bit (ie, there were military posts in this and that place), but they didn't mention it much at all. I don't think they even mentioned why Japan was at war in the first class (though they had a list of reasons why the US bombed them).

Still, all in all, a terryfing exhibit.

For a change of pace, afterwards, we ate okonomiyaki. They call it "japanese pizza," but that's a lie, a lie. It's more like a pancake with lots and lots of layers of other food. Most delicious. Also, most unsanitary. The okonomiyaki is made on a grill right in frong of you, and while you do eat it from your plate, the okonomiyaki sits on the grill. Along with everyone else's. Maa. Nobody was dropping dead around me, so I figured it was all right. And I'm still walking around.

Finally, tired out by walking around and looking at grizly things, we went to the hotel. Where we were given a washitsu (Japanese style bedroom). Kaloo kalay! We even got yukatas (that came untied as we slept, of course. The flimsy versions hotels give out are impossible to keep tied for long periods of times, especially when you're unconscious). I wonder how many people would be ecstatic to find out they would be sleeping on the floor? Not many, I suppose, but we were. We even fought fought for who would get to sleep in the closet (which, trust me, would be a verily awsome place to sleep in).

Finally, we slept. And slept. And slept some more.

Friday, February 15, 2002, 01:40 p.m. :||: blatant advertisement
Sadly, some of the best things one sees are advertisements. So I present to you the one I pass by often in Shibuya. It's a billboard presenting a woman riding a pepsi-can like a space skateboard. The woman is shooting at some monsters on the other side. There is text to explain the image:

SPECTACULAR BATTLE IN SPACE

In this battlefield, there is a non-stop fighting for the sacred PEPSI-CAN filled with happiness. There is only one way to get the pepsi can-- that is to open the mysterious gate that no one has ever opened before.

A woman soldier, Pep-in, who only wishes a happy ending to the universe, now bravely stands up holding her ray gun and ready to open the gate.

Watch out. Coca-don the bad cop (looking so mean) is now shooting his ray gun from his space scooter. The (deadly) game now has just begun.

The names are a nice touch. Real subtle.

Does anybody else think this would make a marvelous series? I would like to know how Pep-rin destroyed the looking-so-mean Coca-don cop, how she opens the gate, and what sort of a happy ending she gives to the universe!

Friday, February 15, 2002, 01:04 p.m. :||: Sen to Chihiro no Kamikakushi
Wednesday being the half-price movie ticket day for females, the three of us (Guiri, Gina, me) went to see "Sen to Chihiro no Kamikakuashi." (The English title is "Spirited Away," though a more literal translations would be, "The Kidnapping of Sen and Chihiro." The title confused me for a long time, because "sen" also means "a thousand," I had no idea what a "chihiro" was, and the characters for "kamikakushi" are "god" and "hiding.") It's the latest movie by oft worshipped Miyazaki, the same guy who directed Mononoke Hime and Tonari no Totoro.

Excuse me, I'm going to put on my Academic Pants on.

The film is what I would call the Japanese nightmaerish version of Alice in Wonderland. There wasn't much speech; the emphasis was on the visuals. If you had turned off the sound, I would have been happy enough watching all the strange creatures and studying the ancient Japanese structures.

The setting reminded me of something Zimmerman-sensei mentioned in my Gender in Japanese Culture class: Miyazaki's films are often set in the more "innocent world," where WWII never happened. This movie definitely had that feeling. The train Sen rides is ancient, the whole public bath has a historical feeling, etc.

Another class I was reminded of was Theory of Religion, where we discussed someone or other's theory of the liminal (I think it was Eliade, but he may have taken it from someone else)-- that before entering the sacred space/time, you must go through something that removes you from the normal world. The tunnel the family walks through, as well as the forest/sea surrounding the special world definitely serves as that boundary.

My complaints include the flatness of the other characters. I saw none of the love that was meant to transpire between Sen and Haku. That part felt stuck on to the extent that I could point out where the glue was. The older friend, the one that looks after Sen, I forget her name, why was she there? In fact, why were any of the humans there at all? They might have explained how Haku ended up there (and I just didn't catch that), but they didn't do so for the others).

Something that amused me:

After the Movie

Isabel: I have just one question... when they were falling down from the sky, what did Sen mean when she said that she falled on her face? And how did that help Haku remember his real name?
Gina: Fell on her face?
Isabel: "Kao ni ochita," she said.
Gina: Not "kao," "kawa."
Isabel: ...Ah.
Guiri: The name of the river she fell in was his name.
Isabel: Naruhodo!

A single word can make a world of difference, folks.

The themes I picked up were of greed-- the parents turned into pigs after eating, the spirit follows Sen because she's the one person who doesn't want anything it has to offer, and so on. The second theme that struck me was that of duality. The multiple forms of the gigantic baby, Sen and Chihiro, Haku and the dragon, the obaachan twins, etc. There are other themes, of course, but those were the ones I noticed especially.

Here's an interesting interview with Miyazaki on the movie.

Tuesday, February 12, 2002, 01:55 p.m. :||: tokyo ironies
Archived the previous messages. Bye-bye!

I'd like to talk a bit about Tokyo. I didn't, um, have the time (ie, was too lazy) to learn more about Tokyo before coming here, so it was a bit of a shock. I've never actually lived in a city before, so maybe this is all normal, and I'm just a clueless country-bumpkin girl. So why am I so surprised?

Tokyo is huge.

It's divided into 23 'wards,' which are mini-cities onto themselves. The one I live in is more like a densely populated surburb than a part of Tokyo. (I imagined all of Tokyo to be like the huge shopping centers of Ginza and Shinjuku, full of bright lights and impossible tall buildings).

Okay, here's to help explain just how big this place is. Boston/Cambridge has four subway lines, right? The red, blue, green, and orange. Aside from that, it has a fair few number of Commute Trains (which go to the surburbs of Boston), about six or so.

Tokyo has a main train system, called 'JR' (standing for, I suppose, 'Japan Railway'), which is split into over eight lines (each of which takes an hour or so to fill a complete circuit). Then those split off into various lines. I can't even begin to guess the number of the smaller lines. All of this, by the way, does not include the subway system.

In other words, Boston's transportation system consists of four subway systems and some trains. Even living in a surburb, it doesn't take more than an hour to commute. In Tokyo, there are dozens of trains and many subways. Two hours is the expected commuting time.

A random note: Neil Gaiman wrote a fiction book based on the English subway system (called 'Neverwhere.' It's damned good, I suggest everyone read it. Mom, dad, if you're interested, it's on my book-book bookshelf. People from my university, our school library sucks in terms of the sci-fi/fantasy department. So we do not have it. I suggest you mutiny). Now I want him to write one on the Japanese subway system. It could be full of ninjas, samurai, kappa, and bakeneko! ...Or not.

Another thing that surprised me is all the 'family' businesses. There are, of course, chain stores, like the Gap, Wendies, and KFC. There's even that evil Seattle coffe place, the name of which I forget. Starbucks, that's it. Evil, evil starbucks. Anyway! Moving on. There are a ton of these chain stores. But right next to them are the smaller places. Which is very pleasing. I always make sure to eat at those places.

One last thought on Tokyo- the names! They no longer suit the places they refer to! Like 'Shinjuku' is literally, 'New Living Place.' Shinjuku is neither new, or much of a living place. Tokyo also has a lot of 'natural' sounding names ('Takadanoba,' 'High Horse Field Ground,' 'Jiyuu ga Oka,' 'Free Hill,' 'Shinagawa,' 'Something - River'). This strikes me as highly ironic.

At some point I'm going to do mad research on Tokyo. It must have a fascinating history. In fact, I could take a class on it, here. I'll see if it's any good.