The Japanese have invented a lot of things but among the most famous, as well as the most widely mispronounced, is Karaoke. Until today I'd never felt the need to sing Karaoke. I had a pretty good idea of what it would be like and didn't really want to join in thankyou very much. However, earlier this evening, four of my classmates dragged me into a Shibuya Karaoke bar and after a fair amount of yelling even persuaded me to sing with them. When in Rome, y'know?
I've always imagined Karaoke to just be several people in a room screaming to a backing track. My preconceptions were almost absolutely correct but differed in two important respects. A) There were maracas B) Several people in a room screaming to a backing track is actually quite fun.
My companions- A Koeran, A Chinese girl and two Thailanders chose a large selection of mostly boring J-Pop to sing to but when things got too dull I just started making interesting rhythms with the maracas or harmonizing in kooky ways on the second mic (something which went down quite well). The highlight was a fantastic rendition of an Avril Lavigne song by the Thailanders which, due to the fact it was in a Language they couldn't speak, was both dreadful and hilarious. They knew this and embraced it.
I've also gained a new respect for Eminem. For a joke I chose 'Lose Yourself' as my second song. By the end I was actually sweating! The song selection was quite impressive and they had plenty of tunes which I knew. I did a pretty darn good rendition of 'Smile' by Lily Allen, but sadly my mock cockney accent was lost on my Asian companions.
Is Karaoke something I'd do again soon? Probably not but I have lost my disrespect for the pastime. Really though, maracas make anything good!
(Amendment: It was actually a Karaoke 'box' and not a bar. This meant my chums and I got a room to ourselves. It also meant the Japanese didn't have to hear me sing 'All around the world', those lucky devils.)
Wednesday 30 April 2008
Tuesday 29 April 2008
Suprise Holiday
Today has been a quiet day because, as I found out late yesterday afternoon, April the 29th is a national holiday. To celebrate the birthday of an Emperor who died in 1989, the people who cook my food and teach me Japanese took the day off and left me in the lurch. I didn't have anything planned and, not wanting to spent too much money (I've spent enough recently..), I had a quiet wander around Shakuji Koen.
That's not to say it's been an unpleasant day, far from it. Looking round the shops I saw all sorts of charming, odd and delightful products, some of which I'll detail for you. My first stop, just out of curiosity, was the English learning section of a Japanese bookshop. Most of the items were your usual "Hello, how do you do, my name is Nakamura and I come from Yokohama" type language books, however I found one magazine which specialized in teaching expressions and sentences straight from films as well as some highly situational 'Adult English'. My favorites in the M rated category (which those of a fragile disposition should feel free to skip) were:
'Women keep coming onto me in strange ways!'
'Sorry, but I'm looking for more of a physical relationship'
and the ever handy
'Do you want to make love before or after dinner?'
There were some other gems but, as my English is already pretty good, I didn't buy a copy so cannot remember them.
The next 'object of interest' that I found was in a shop called Passport. Passport is an odd place specializing in classy bags and children's toys. I wandered in by accident, thinking they might sell travel goods for Cambodia. They didn't but I wasn't disappointed for on one of the aisles was a section devoted to bath balls with small plastic suprises in the middle. You plonk them into your bath, the ball fizzles away and inside is a toy. The selection was enormous with plastic donuts, plastic ice creams, dinosaurs and sheep surprise bath bombs all available. The best of the bunch was one in the shape of a tenpura'd prawn. The prawn's tenpura shell fizzles away in the bath, revealing the prawn within. I haven't looked into postage prices yet, but I'm quite tempted to buy one for my little brother Cameron before I leave.
Among other highlights, I bought myself a "Carrot, Purple Carrot, Raspberry and Grape" drink in a health food shop, which was surprisingly tasty. I also saw a place called the 'Turn Thick Shot Bar'. I have no idea why it had that name but as usual I had to laugh and as usual I got a lot of mystified looks from passer by. Often I can see the logic behind these Engrish names. Shibuya's funky Triple Napalm Bomb hairdressers sounds striking, Black Man brand underwear is based on an trite stereotype and Calpis sounds a bit like calcium. Turn Thick though? Where is the sense?
I wonder if the Japanese in English tourist information booths is quite as bad...
That's not to say it's been an unpleasant day, far from it. Looking round the shops I saw all sorts of charming, odd and delightful products, some of which I'll detail for you. My first stop, just out of curiosity, was the English learning section of a Japanese bookshop. Most of the items were your usual "Hello, how do you do, my name is Nakamura and I come from Yokohama" type language books, however I found one magazine which specialized in teaching expressions and sentences straight from films as well as some highly situational 'Adult English'. My favorites in the M rated category (which those of a fragile disposition should feel free to skip) were:
'Women keep coming onto me in strange ways!'
'Sorry, but I'm looking for more of a physical relationship'
and the ever handy
'Do you want to make love before or after dinner?'
There were some other gems but, as my English is already pretty good, I didn't buy a copy so cannot remember them.
The next 'object of interest' that I found was in a shop called Passport. Passport is an odd place specializing in classy bags and children's toys. I wandered in by accident, thinking they might sell travel goods for Cambodia. They didn't but I wasn't disappointed for on one of the aisles was a section devoted to bath balls with small plastic suprises in the middle. You plonk them into your bath, the ball fizzles away and inside is a toy. The selection was enormous with plastic donuts, plastic ice creams, dinosaurs and sheep surprise bath bombs all available. The best of the bunch was one in the shape of a tenpura'd prawn. The prawn's tenpura shell fizzles away in the bath, revealing the prawn within. I haven't looked into postage prices yet, but I'm quite tempted to buy one for my little brother Cameron before I leave.
Among other highlights, I bought myself a "Carrot, Purple Carrot, Raspberry and Grape" drink in a health food shop, which was surprisingly tasty. I also saw a place called the 'Turn Thick Shot Bar'. I have no idea why it had that name but as usual I had to laugh and as usual I got a lot of mystified looks from passer by. Often I can see the logic behind these Engrish names. Shibuya's funky Triple Napalm Bomb hairdressers sounds striking, Black Man brand underwear is based on an trite stereotype and Calpis sounds a bit like calcium. Turn Thick though? Where is the sense?
I wonder if the Japanese in English tourist information booths is quite as bad...
Monday 28 April 2008
Want to bet?
Gambling is a huge pastime in Japan. Real hardcore casino poker 'n' tequila gambling is outlawed but that doesn't stop anyone from giving away stacks upon stacks of their hard earned cash for that "might win" feeling. There are three main ways to get rid of your money- Betting shops (soccer, bikes and horses), Scratch/Lotto Cards and the startlingly noisy Pachinko.
The reason I mention them at all is that these places are everywhere. The exit to each station is crammed with busy scratchcard kiosks, lucky cat totems waving from the walls. Ikebukoro has too many to count and even a backwater like Shakuji Koen has three.
The betting shops are less prolific, probably only slightly more numerous than in England. They make up for that, though, with sheer volume of noise. When you walk into any shop in the UK the assistants will probably ignore you, more so if it's a betting place. The Japanese way of greeting customers is the complete opposite. Shop keepers will yell their hearts out if you so much as walk past the door. 'Irashyaimase, Irashyaimase, Irashyaimase' they bellow, trying so hard to welcome you that you feel guilty just for not entering or buying anything. Outside betting shops high pitched recorded messages yell out 'Irashyaimase' at deafening volumes. Long strings of squeaky Keigo peppered with a few exciting English phrases. 'Lucky!' 'Bigu Win!' 'Grando Prizu!'.
But loudest, most numerous and most popular of all betting places are the Pachinko, the terrifying slots of Japan. Nothing I can say will properly capture the atmosphere of these epilepsy inducing buildings. The noise they produce is beyond belief. Imagine the sound of a thousand children playing gameboys at full volume. Now imagine a hail storm of coins bouncing one a concrete road. Put those two sounds together, amplify the result a hundred times and it still wont be as shocking as the pachinko.
Rows upon rows of businessmen sit on the small cramped stools, shoveling token after token into the machines. Rows upon rows upon rows, all in identical black suits, not a woman among them. The Pachinko is, I guess, a form of escapism from the dull daily grind of the Japanese salary man. My own pet theory is that spending hours in a Pachinko makes everything else seem better. My other theory is that hell is one big pachinko, getting steadily more noisy and cramped as you head down towards the ninth level.
Seeing them all in their, cooped up, sweating and slaving away at the slots makes me want to liberate these poor Pachinko drones. I want to march in, throw the doors wide open and yell 'You can go, I have saved you, you are free!'.
And then I realize they are already.
----------------------------
Trivia: As most forms of gambling are either illigal under Japanese Law or run directly by the government, the privately owned pachinko are not allowed to give money directly to their patrons. Instead you buy and win chips which, through a useful loophole, can be exchanged for prizes or cash at separately owned token redeeming shops. This is why, in the famous Pokemon Red and Blue (which I guess most people of my age will have played), prizes aren't collected in game corner itself, but in another building a few blocks away.
The reason I mention them at all is that these places are everywhere. The exit to each station is crammed with busy scratchcard kiosks, lucky cat totems waving from the walls. Ikebukoro has too many to count and even a backwater like Shakuji Koen has three.
The betting shops are less prolific, probably only slightly more numerous than in England. They make up for that, though, with sheer volume of noise. When you walk into any shop in the UK the assistants will probably ignore you, more so if it's a betting place. The Japanese way of greeting customers is the complete opposite. Shop keepers will yell their hearts out if you so much as walk past the door. 'Irashyaimase, Irashyaimase, Irashyaimase' they bellow, trying so hard to welcome you that you feel guilty just for not entering or buying anything. Outside betting shops high pitched recorded messages yell out 'Irashyaimase' at deafening volumes. Long strings of squeaky Keigo peppered with a few exciting English phrases. 'Lucky!' 'Bigu Win!' 'Grando Prizu!'.
But loudest, most numerous and most popular of all betting places are the Pachinko, the terrifying slots of Japan. Nothing I can say will properly capture the atmosphere of these epilepsy inducing buildings. The noise they produce is beyond belief. Imagine the sound of a thousand children playing gameboys at full volume. Now imagine a hail storm of coins bouncing one a concrete road. Put those two sounds together, amplify the result a hundred times and it still wont be as shocking as the pachinko.
Rows upon rows of businessmen sit on the small cramped stools, shoveling token after token into the machines. Rows upon rows upon rows, all in identical black suits, not a woman among them. The Pachinko is, I guess, a form of escapism from the dull daily grind of the Japanese salary man. My own pet theory is that spending hours in a Pachinko makes everything else seem better. My other theory is that hell is one big pachinko, getting steadily more noisy and cramped as you head down towards the ninth level.
Seeing them all in their, cooped up, sweating and slaving away at the slots makes me want to liberate these poor Pachinko drones. I want to march in, throw the doors wide open and yell 'You can go, I have saved you, you are free!'.
And then I realize they are already.
----------------------------
Trivia: As most forms of gambling are either illigal under Japanese Law or run directly by the government, the privately owned pachinko are not allowed to give money directly to their patrons. Instead you buy and win chips which, through a useful loophole, can be exchanged for prizes or cash at separately owned token redeeming shops. This is why, in the famous Pokemon Red and Blue (which I guess most people of my age will have played), prizes aren't collected in game corner itself, but in another building a few blocks away.
Sunday 27 April 2008
Kamakuradventure
Kamakura... wow!
So today I headed off bright and early (well... at 8:00) to Kamarkura, the town that preceded Kyoto as Japan's capital. It was, to put things mildly, brillaint!
The place exuded Japanese elegance from every pour. Every wooden roofed house, every exquisitely carved temple and every serene garden was brimming with style, beauty and grace. Prone to hyperbole as I am, I make no exaggeration when I say Kamakura is the prettiest place I've ever been. Good work Japan!
I owe most of this to the fantastic Koike Kei-san, my guide today and the hard-labored founder of www.j-os.com, an online school where I've been studying Japanese for the last year. (Kei-san, if you're reading this, dōmo once again!)
There's so much I could go into detail about, but I'll try to keep this entry structured and give you the highlights.
Tsurugaokahachimangu
鶴岡八幡宮
I'd challenge you all to say that nine times fast but I don't want you to do yourselves any injuries. Tsurugoakahachimangu is Kamakura's most famous Jinja. People come here to pray, get their fortunes told and even to get married. I was lucky enough to see a wedding in full swing- as we arrived a procession of delicately 'kimonoed' men and women trooped past in a line towards the central-court shrine. A monk from Tsurugaoka proceeded bless them as they took their vows, waving a ceremonial fan at them and taking them through the Japanese wedding ritual.
A quick climb up some stone steps took us to the main shrine where Kei showed me how to pray Shinto style. You face towards the shrine and toss in a five or ten yen coin, bow twice (making sure to bow with your full body, head included), clap twice and then make a wish with a final bow. In my typical 'gaijin' style I messed this up splenidly, somehow managing to clap three times and bowing with my body but not my head. The Shrine was so striking that to look away felt like doing it a disservice!
Outside hundreds of wooden blocks were tied to ornamental racks, each block with a wish written on it. Kei-san translated a few of them for me and the denizens of Kamakura, it turned out, had been wishing for everything from peace and prosperity to a win for their favorite baseball team.
Daibutsu: The Great Buddha
大仏
He was big! He was Buddha! What more can I say?
I'm sure many of you have seen the picture of this giant bronze Buddha statue, located at the Kōtoku-in temple. On Japanese guidebooks he often features prominently, his giant eyes tight shut, deep in content meditation. The temple in which he once sat has been washed away by a sixteenth century tsunami and years of weathering have turned his bronze a copper oxide blue, but nothing can disturb this 93 tonne giant.
He has meditated here since 1252bc and will continue to do so long after you and I have shuffled off this mortal coil and joined the great party in the sky.
Lunch
昼ごはん
At 12 we headed out into the suburbs and lunched in a small Sushi restaraunt about twenty minutes walk from the sea. Kei had sashimi and I had a Kamakuran specialty the name of which I can't remember. Hundreds of tiny tiny raw fish stared up at me from a bed of rice and I must confess the staring eyes of a thousand tiny eyes almost put me off eating it- the first few mouthfuls filled with guilt. The taste, however, was superb and I soon forgot the fishy gaze and wolfed them by the mouthful.
Kei-san generously served me three pieces of his sashimi which was the freshest and tastiest I've had anywhere. For those of you not brave enough to give sashimi a try, you don't know what you're missing it out on. It beats fish and chips hands down!
Kenchōji
建長寺
After an iced coffee in a comfy Starbucks (the nicest Starbucks I've seen) we trotted off to Kenchouji, a Zen temple and the final and biggest of the day. It was of course superb, with an impressively huge ceiling painting of a dragon and a tranquil Zen garden where we sat for half an hour and listened to the birds sing their little hearts out.
Our visit to Kenchōji sadly concluded we quietly walked to the station, my mind digesting everything I'd seen as we went.
Kei-san, ありがとうございます for a truly wonderful day. Tonight I think I shall sleep well!
So today I headed off bright and early (well... at 8:00) to Kamarkura, the town that preceded Kyoto as Japan's capital. It was, to put things mildly, brillaint!
The place exuded Japanese elegance from every pour. Every wooden roofed house, every exquisitely carved temple and every serene garden was brimming with style, beauty and grace. Prone to hyperbole as I am, I make no exaggeration when I say Kamakura is the prettiest place I've ever been. Good work Japan!
I owe most of this to the fantastic Koike Kei-san, my guide today and the hard-labored founder of www.j-os.com, an online school where I've been studying Japanese for the last year. (Kei-san, if you're reading this, dōmo once again!)
There's so much I could go into detail about, but I'll try to keep this entry structured and give you the highlights.
Tsurugaokahachimangu
鶴岡八幡宮
I'd challenge you all to say that nine times fast but I don't want you to do yourselves any injuries. Tsurugoakahachimangu is Kamakura's most famous Jinja. People come here to pray, get their fortunes told and even to get married. I was lucky enough to see a wedding in full swing- as we arrived a procession of delicately 'kimonoed' men and women trooped past in a line towards the central-court shrine. A monk from Tsurugaoka proceeded bless them as they took their vows, waving a ceremonial fan at them and taking them through the Japanese wedding ritual.
A quick climb up some stone steps took us to the main shrine where Kei showed me how to pray Shinto style. You face towards the shrine and toss in a five or ten yen coin, bow twice (making sure to bow with your full body, head included), clap twice and then make a wish with a final bow. In my typical 'gaijin' style I messed this up splenidly, somehow managing to clap three times and bowing with my body but not my head. The Shrine was so striking that to look away felt like doing it a disservice!
Outside hundreds of wooden blocks were tied to ornamental racks, each block with a wish written on it. Kei-san translated a few of them for me and the denizens of Kamakura, it turned out, had been wishing for everything from peace and prosperity to a win for their favorite baseball team.
Daibutsu: The Great Buddha
大仏
He was big! He was Buddha! What more can I say?
I'm sure many of you have seen the picture of this giant bronze Buddha statue, located at the Kōtoku-in temple. On Japanese guidebooks he often features prominently, his giant eyes tight shut, deep in content meditation. The temple in which he once sat has been washed away by a sixteenth century tsunami and years of weathering have turned his bronze a copper oxide blue, but nothing can disturb this 93 tonne giant.
He has meditated here since 1252bc and will continue to do so long after you and I have shuffled off this mortal coil and joined the great party in the sky.
Lunch
昼ごはん
At 12 we headed out into the suburbs and lunched in a small Sushi restaraunt about twenty minutes walk from the sea. Kei had sashimi and I had a Kamakuran specialty the name of which I can't remember. Hundreds of tiny tiny raw fish stared up at me from a bed of rice and I must confess the staring eyes of a thousand tiny eyes almost put me off eating it- the first few mouthfuls filled with guilt. The taste, however, was superb and I soon forgot the fishy gaze and wolfed them by the mouthful.
Kei-san generously served me three pieces of his sashimi which was the freshest and tastiest I've had anywhere. For those of you not brave enough to give sashimi a try, you don't know what you're missing it out on. It beats fish and chips hands down!
Kenchōji
建長寺
After an iced coffee in a comfy Starbucks (the nicest Starbucks I've seen) we trotted off to Kenchouji, a Zen temple and the final and biggest of the day. It was of course superb, with an impressively huge ceiling painting of a dragon and a tranquil Zen garden where we sat for half an hour and listened to the birds sing their little hearts out.
Our visit to Kenchōji sadly concluded we quietly walked to the station, my mind digesting everything I'd seen as we went.
Kei-san, ありがとうございます for a truly wonderful day. Tonight I think I shall sleep well!
Saturday 26 April 2008
Clueless
For those of you who haven't heard the news, Humphery Lyttelton, 'humorist' and famous trumpeter, died yesterday at the age of 86. On hearing news of a celebrity death my normal reaction is "ahh... unfortunate" but for Humph I sniffled quietly in a corner for a few minutes. You could say that at 86 he'd had a good inings, but I maintain that it was far too young for one such as the Lyttelton. Why is it that people have to die?
I'm sorry, I'm afraid I haven't a clue.
--------
I trooped out to Tokyo today and had a look at the West Imperial Palace Gardens, a nearby science museum (on the advice of Tom and Joel) and the bottom of the Tokyo Tower.
The gardens were truly very present. The wooden shrines, bushes filled with bright coloured flowers, oriental statues and ancient stone walls seemed oddly juxtaposed against the gleaming skyscrapers on the horizon. I'm fond of juxtaposition between the old and new and nowhere does it quite as well as Japan.
As I was eating a banana on a bench marking the spot where the imperial samurai used to train, two pleasant Japanese buisiness men approaced me and we had a nice conversation about London. The first question anyone will ask you when they find you're from England is "do you live in London" followed by "ahh, so how far away from London do you live?". Two questions that I've become very practiced at answering.
Once I'd had my fill of elegant horticulture I headed off on a mission, first to find somewhere to dispose of my banana skin and then to locate the science museum. Considering how startlingly clean Tokyo is, bins are in very short supply and after a long search I had to enter a big gray building to get rid of my peel. Wondering how far away the science museum was and if I'd get there before it shut, I looked up to at the clock on the wall and saw that it was right next to a large sign saying "Welcome to the Science Museum". Spooked, I payed my 600 yen entry fee and wandered in.
The Museum was a lot of fun, though would have been better if I'd had company. Everywhere things went whoosh and pop, though there were no English captions and while my Japanese is good enough to explain that I live 2 hours away from London by train, it falters somewhat when faced with technical explanations of the science behind the Aurora Borealis.
The exhibit which stuck in my mind the most was a scarily lifelike female robot who you could supposedly talk too. She reacted well to my "Konnichiwa", but to my other questions (Are you well? Who made you? How far away from London do you live) just stared blankly and eventually told me to go away and let someone else have a turn. I was quite hurt!
Tokyo Tower, Japan's answer to le Tour Eiffel looked good from the outside, but a little kitsch within. I didn't have the time to take the expensive elevator to the top viewing deck, but had a snoop around the shops on the bottom floor and met the tower's mascot. The poor guy is the same shape as the Tokyo's famous erection but strangely pink. Goodness knows why he smiled so much, he must have been bullied something dreadful at School.
Tomorrow I rise early as I've been invited to see Kamakura with Koike Kei-san, the man who owns and runs my online Japanese school. I may get back too late to write anything, but if I have time expect tales of temples, shrines and 800 year old giant Buddhas.
The journey takes over an hour and a half, so wish me luck finding a seat on the train!
I'm sorry, I'm afraid I haven't a clue.
--------
I trooped out to Tokyo today and had a look at the West Imperial Palace Gardens, a nearby science museum (on the advice of Tom and Joel) and the bottom of the Tokyo Tower.
The gardens were truly very present. The wooden shrines, bushes filled with bright coloured flowers, oriental statues and ancient stone walls seemed oddly juxtaposed against the gleaming skyscrapers on the horizon. I'm fond of juxtaposition between the old and new and nowhere does it quite as well as Japan.
As I was eating a banana on a bench marking the spot where the imperial samurai used to train, two pleasant Japanese buisiness men approaced me and we had a nice conversation about London. The first question anyone will ask you when they find you're from England is "do you live in London" followed by "ahh, so how far away from London do you live?". Two questions that I've become very practiced at answering.
Once I'd had my fill of elegant horticulture I headed off on a mission, first to find somewhere to dispose of my banana skin and then to locate the science museum. Considering how startlingly clean Tokyo is, bins are in very short supply and after a long search I had to enter a big gray building to get rid of my peel. Wondering how far away the science museum was and if I'd get there before it shut, I looked up to at the clock on the wall and saw that it was right next to a large sign saying "Welcome to the Science Museum". Spooked, I payed my 600 yen entry fee and wandered in.
The Museum was a lot of fun, though would have been better if I'd had company. Everywhere things went whoosh and pop, though there were no English captions and while my Japanese is good enough to explain that I live 2 hours away from London by train, it falters somewhat when faced with technical explanations of the science behind the Aurora Borealis.
The exhibit which stuck in my mind the most was a scarily lifelike female robot who you could supposedly talk too. She reacted well to my "Konnichiwa", but to my other questions (Are you well? Who made you? How far away from London do you live) just stared blankly and eventually told me to go away and let someone else have a turn. I was quite hurt!
Tokyo Tower, Japan's answer to le Tour Eiffel looked good from the outside, but a little kitsch within. I didn't have the time to take the expensive elevator to the top viewing deck, but had a snoop around the shops on the bottom floor and met the tower's mascot. The poor guy is the same shape as the Tokyo's famous erection but strangely pink. Goodness knows why he smiled so much, he must have been bullied something dreadful at School.
Tomorrow I rise early as I've been invited to see Kamakura with Koike Kei-san, the man who owns and runs my online Japanese school. I may get back too late to write anything, but if I have time expect tales of temples, shrines and 800 year old giant Buddhas.
The journey takes over an hour and a half, so wish me luck finding a seat on the train!
Friday 25 April 2008
Wrong Lines, Right Lines and Ghanaian Pickup Lines
I'm good at getting lost and today I excelled myself by catching the Yamanote line in the wrong direction. After ten minutes spent happily listening to my IPod I started to question the station names I was seeing. Had I even been to Meguro? Is Gotanda really on my route home?
As we were about to depart Osaki the chirpy intercom lady chimed out "tsugi wa Shingawa, tsugi wa Shingawa" (Next: Shingawa). Now, if I'd wanted to catch the Shinkansen and leave town, Shingawa would have been perfect. Sadly I didn't want to leave town, I wanted dinner, so had to make a mad dash towards the closing door.
I escaped, almost at the cost of a leg, and headed back towards Shibuya. All this faffing around meant that I avoided the rush hour and had a seat all the way to Ikebukoro. And the moral of the story is that, more often than not, stupidity is pays off.
I've been asked to tell you about my fellow students so I will! They're an interesting bunch- the class is comprised mostly of Chinese, Korean and Thai people, with a german, a dutch woman and a Ghanaian who sits in the corner "laying down funky beats" (he literally beat boxes in the middle of class) and trying to butter up the "laydees" (his word, not mine).
I've taken to sitting next to this Ghanaian as he speaks English and the low, African drum beat sounds he emits are quite comforting. Also, some of his lines to the pretty Korean girl (named Minji) on the desk behind us are priceless. On top of that his Japanese is worse than mine and in a class full of Korean speakers- a language very grammatically close to Japanese- his less than instant grasp of new sentence structuring gives me hope.
There is, of course, lots more to be said. I could tell you about today's trip to a sushi restaurant with a few if my classmates or write an article on the glitzy but oh-so-naff Japanese photo booths... However I'm off to see Tokyo Tower then the Imperial Palace grounds tomorrow and need my rest.
Oyasuminasai!
As we were about to depart Osaki the chirpy intercom lady chimed out "tsugi wa Shingawa, tsugi wa Shingawa" (Next: Shingawa). Now, if I'd wanted to catch the Shinkansen and leave town, Shingawa would have been perfect. Sadly I didn't want to leave town, I wanted dinner, so had to make a mad dash towards the closing door.
I escaped, almost at the cost of a leg, and headed back towards Shibuya. All this faffing around meant that I avoided the rush hour and had a seat all the way to Ikebukoro. And the moral of the story is that, more often than not, stupidity is pays off.
I've been asked to tell you about my fellow students so I will! They're an interesting bunch- the class is comprised mostly of Chinese, Korean and Thai people, with a german, a dutch woman and a Ghanaian who sits in the corner "laying down funky beats" (he literally beat boxes in the middle of class) and trying to butter up the "laydees" (his word, not mine).
I've taken to sitting next to this Ghanaian as he speaks English and the low, African drum beat sounds he emits are quite comforting. Also, some of his lines to the pretty Korean girl (named Minji) on the desk behind us are priceless. On top of that his Japanese is worse than mine and in a class full of Korean speakers- a language very grammatically close to Japanese- his less than instant grasp of new sentence structuring gives me hope.
There is, of course, lots more to be said. I could tell you about today's trip to a sushi restaurant with a few if my classmates or write an article on the glitzy but oh-so-naff Japanese photo booths... However I'm off to see Tokyo Tower then the Imperial Palace grounds tomorrow and need my rest.
Oyasuminasai!
Thursday 24 April 2008
Paving the Way
Apart from people and apart from vending machines, one thing that Tokyo is absolutely jam packed with is bikes. From the toughest Kendo masters to the oldest grannies everyone has a pretty pastel coloured cycle with a basket on the front and if you walk down any road in Shakuji Koen you will probably see more cyclists than pedestrians. And then there are the ones that you don't see...
It has long been my opinion that the British "no cycling on the pavement" laws should be abolished. Of course there's the danger of a pedestrian being hit by a cyclist, but at the moment there's the danger of a cyclist being hit by a car... and which one is more likely to be fatal?
The worst a pedestrian-cyclist accident is going to cause is a broken limb, probably for the cyclist. A car-bike accident on the other hand will quite likely end in death and at the very least will mean a heavily fractured cyclist and an expensive paintjob for the driver. The government should let bikes on the pavement and watch the fatalities fall (rather than the bicycles). Or so I thought.
Japan has been a good test of my adherence to this theory, for in Japan cycling on the pavement is not only legal but expected. The things whizz up behind you as quiet as mice and hurtle past at 20 miles per hour scaring the living daylights out of you. I won't lie, it's bad, but if you stay here long enough you not only get used to it, you develop a sixth "bike sense".
The biggest problem with the "bikes on pavements" system is that when you meet one coming head on you have to do the "is he going to go left or is he going to go right" shuffle. Only at bike speed it isn't a shuffle but a panicked left right wobble-dance followed by a jump into the hedge
Such pavement anarchy may be inconvenient, but it's far preferable to sending our two wheeled friends to their graves. Unless the government plans to go the whole hog and copy the wonderful example set by Holland, pavement cycling should most certainly be legalized. People would complain of course, but they do that anyway!
(On a different note entirely, I've noticed that my dormitory manager refers to himself in the third person. As present Duncan has no idea why this is. He'll tell you if he finds out.)
It has long been my opinion that the British "no cycling on the pavement" laws should be abolished. Of course there's the danger of a pedestrian being hit by a cyclist, but at the moment there's the danger of a cyclist being hit by a car... and which one is more likely to be fatal?
The worst a pedestrian-cyclist accident is going to cause is a broken limb, probably for the cyclist. A car-bike accident on the other hand will quite likely end in death and at the very least will mean a heavily fractured cyclist and an expensive paintjob for the driver. The government should let bikes on the pavement and watch the fatalities fall (rather than the bicycles). Or so I thought.
Japan has been a good test of my adherence to this theory, for in Japan cycling on the pavement is not only legal but expected. The things whizz up behind you as quiet as mice and hurtle past at 20 miles per hour scaring the living daylights out of you. I won't lie, it's bad, but if you stay here long enough you not only get used to it, you develop a sixth "bike sense".
The biggest problem with the "bikes on pavements" system is that when you meet one coming head on you have to do the "is he going to go left or is he going to go right" shuffle. Only at bike speed it isn't a shuffle but a panicked left right wobble-dance followed by a jump into the hedge
Such pavement anarchy may be inconvenient, but it's far preferable to sending our two wheeled friends to their graves. Unless the government plans to go the whole hog and copy the wonderful example set by Holland, pavement cycling should most certainly be legalized. People would complain of course, but they do that anyway!
(On a different note entirely, I've noticed that my dormitory manager refers to himself in the third person. As present Duncan has no idea why this is. He'll tell you if he finds out.)
Wednesday 23 April 2008
Snack Time
The number of weird and interesting food products sold in Tokyo could fill a book. Probably several. I list but a few:
Jelly in a Can
The plate is history and I've seen the future. In front of me is a very tasty tangerine jelly. In most respects it's a perfectly normal example of it's species, though there's one major difference. It came in a soft drinks can.
I noticed it on the way back from a shower, lurking on the bottom shelf of the dormitory vending machine. In went 60p (almost of it's own free will) and out clunked canned Jelly. Shake it vigorously and the jelly breaks into small bits which are easily slurped from the top of the can. I've just finished the last dollop and am seriously considering buying another.
The Green Tea Kitkat
It's green. It's a Kitkat.
From the taste, my guess is that this Kitkat was accidentally created when someone spilled their green tea into the white chocolate Kitkat mixture. It has a white chocolate flavor with a slightly bitter tea-ish after taste.
The most startling thing about it is the lurid green colour. It looks like the kind of food English shops sell around Halloween to scare the children.
Walky Walky
There are quite a few customs in Japan that if broken will get you the thousand cold stares. One of them is eating on the move. If you don't want to face the silent but overwhelming disapproval of the multitudes you must find somewhere to sit down and eat or you must go hungry.
Oddly enough, drinking on the go is just fine, which is where Walky Walky has its niche. These small bits of chocolate coated biscuit come cleverly packaged in a container that looks like a coffee cup. You can flip open the lid, knock them back and noone will glare at you.
They're pretty tasty too. In flavor very similar to "Pocky", another snack that's massively popular in here.
The "Post-a-Kitkat"
A really really big strawberry flavored Kitkat with space on the back to write a note and a little square box to affix a stamp to. It's a postcard... but it's a Kitkat. Somehow I can't quite get my head round that.
I don't know what the people at the Japanese Kitkat head office have been taking but it would probably get me deported.
Bottled "Afternoon Tea"
With surprising coherence, the text on the bottle reads:
Well not like this it hasn't! Kirin's sugary milk tea comes chilled in a 750ml plastic bottle and would make the dutches of Bedford turn in her grave. It looks like tea, but tastes like nothing I've ever experienced. There's enough sugar in the stuff to knock out even the most hardened builder. One lump or twenty?
I hope I stop finding new and interesting tasties soon. If the lack of calcium and the salt poisoning doesn't get me, the type two diabetes will!
Jelly in a Can
The plate is history and I've seen the future. In front of me is a very tasty tangerine jelly. In most respects it's a perfectly normal example of it's species, though there's one major difference. It came in a soft drinks can.
I noticed it on the way back from a shower, lurking on the bottom shelf of the dormitory vending machine. In went 60p (almost of it's own free will) and out clunked canned Jelly. Shake it vigorously and the jelly breaks into small bits which are easily slurped from the top of the can. I've just finished the last dollop and am seriously considering buying another.
The Green Tea Kitkat
It's green. It's a Kitkat.
From the taste, my guess is that this Kitkat was accidentally created when someone spilled their green tea into the white chocolate Kitkat mixture. It has a white chocolate flavor with a slightly bitter tea-ish after taste.
The most startling thing about it is the lurid green colour. It looks like the kind of food English shops sell around Halloween to scare the children.
Walky Walky
There are quite a few customs in Japan that if broken will get you the thousand cold stares. One of them is eating on the move. If you don't want to face the silent but overwhelming disapproval of the multitudes you must find somewhere to sit down and eat or you must go hungry.
Oddly enough, drinking on the go is just fine, which is where Walky Walky has its niche. These small bits of chocolate coated biscuit come cleverly packaged in a container that looks like a coffee cup. You can flip open the lid, knock them back and noone will glare at you.
They're pretty tasty too. In flavor very similar to "Pocky", another snack that's massively popular in here.
The "Post-a-Kitkat"
A really really big strawberry flavored Kitkat with space on the back to write a note and a little square box to affix a stamp to. It's a postcard... but it's a Kitkat. Somehow I can't quite get my head round that.
I don't know what the people at the Japanese Kitkat head office have been taking but it would probably get me deported.
Bottled "Afternoon Tea"
With surprising coherence, the text on the bottle reads:
Afternoon tea has been drunk by the English ever since the custom was started by the duchess of Bedford in the mid 19th century.
Well not like this it hasn't! Kirin's sugary milk tea comes chilled in a 750ml plastic bottle and would make the dutches of Bedford turn in her grave. It looks like tea, but tastes like nothing I've ever experienced. There's enough sugar in the stuff to knock out even the most hardened builder. One lump or twenty?
I hope I stop finding new and interesting tasties soon. If the lack of calcium and the salt poisoning doesn't get me, the type two diabetes will!
Tuesday 22 April 2008
Horrific Honorifics
This entry isn't being written by Duncan. It's being written by Dan. Due to a mistake on my part, Dan is my new school name.
Allow me to explain. My name, when translated into katakana (the Japanese writing system for foreign words) comes out as Dankan. Plonking the standard polite Japanese honorific on the end makes it Dankan-san. San isn't the only honorific though- there are a few others, which I'll take you through.
Sama- A very very polite honorific only used with people of a higher social status than yourself. Quite like the English "sir" or "Ma'am" but more humble. It is most commonly heard in shops where customers are referred to as "Okyaku-sama" (Kyaku meaning customer, the O being yet another politeness indicator).
San- The Japanese Mr, Ms, Miss or Mrs. It makes no distinction between gender or marital status, which I can't see as anything but a good thing.
Kun- Used semi-affectionately when referring to a male of a lower or equal age/social standing to yourself. Its closest English equivalent is "master".
Chan- A term usually used for very young children, reasonably young girls and pets. Can also be used affectionately between close friends and family.
Got that? Good!
Now being the maverick that I am, when the teacher asked what I'd like to be called I told her'My name is "Dankan", but if you want you can call me "Dan-kun"' (see what I did there?). She wrote my name on the board as 'Dankun-san'.
The rest of the class, who had understood my joke, explained that I meant 'Kun' as in the honorific. With a nod of understanding, the teacher amended my name to 'Dunkun-kun'. Regretting that I'd said anything, I stared down at my textbook while my classmates explained to the teacher that my real name was 'Dankan' but that a possible nickname was 'Dan' with the 'kun' honorific. My name was changed three more times to 'Dankan-kun', back to 'Dankun-san' and finally, with a sigh of relief from all, to 'Dan-kun'. My teacher smiled at the joke and the matter was settled. At least, I thought the matter was settled.
We're taught by two people and today was the second teacher's turn. During registration she called out the name 'Dan-san'. Heads clunked against desks. Noone had the heart to go through the explaining process again, so on Tuesdays and Thursdays I am not Duncan, Dankan or even Dankun.
On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I am Dan!
Allow me to explain. My name, when translated into katakana (the Japanese writing system for foreign words) comes out as Dankan. Plonking the standard polite Japanese honorific on the end makes it Dankan-san. San isn't the only honorific though- there are a few others, which I'll take you through.
Sama- A very very polite honorific only used with people of a higher social status than yourself. Quite like the English "sir" or "Ma'am" but more humble. It is most commonly heard in shops where customers are referred to as "Okyaku-sama" (Kyaku meaning customer, the O being yet another politeness indicator).
San- The Japanese Mr, Ms, Miss or Mrs. It makes no distinction between gender or marital status, which I can't see as anything but a good thing.
Kun- Used semi-affectionately when referring to a male of a lower or equal age/social standing to yourself. Its closest English equivalent is "master".
Chan- A term usually used for very young children, reasonably young girls and pets. Can also be used affectionately between close friends and family.
Got that? Good!
Now being the maverick that I am, when the teacher asked what I'd like to be called I told her'My name is "Dankan", but if you want you can call me "Dan-kun"' (see what I did there?). She wrote my name on the board as 'Dankun-san'.
The rest of the class, who had understood my joke, explained that I meant 'Kun' as in the honorific. With a nod of understanding, the teacher amended my name to 'Dunkun-kun'. Regretting that I'd said anything, I stared down at my textbook while my classmates explained to the teacher that my real name was 'Dankan' but that a possible nickname was 'Dan' with the 'kun' honorific. My name was changed three more times to 'Dankan-kun', back to 'Dankun-san' and finally, with a sigh of relief from all, to 'Dan-kun'. My teacher smiled at the joke and the matter was settled. At least, I thought the matter was settled.
We're taught by two people and today was the second teacher's turn. During registration she called out the name 'Dan-san'. Heads clunked against desks. Noone had the heart to go through the explaining process again, so on Tuesdays and Thursdays I am not Duncan, Dankan or even Dankun.
On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I am Dan!
Monday 21 April 2008
Hip Hoppy
Today I made the mistake of getting a later train home and was caught in the the rush hour (or "rashu" as it's know). Not an experience I'm eager to repeat. But I won't go into that. As promised, I'm going to tell you about the Edo museum and all I can remember of Isakayas.
The Edo museum was alright. The building is impressively big with a lot of open space and some spectacularly detailed models of Tokyo in days of yore. There were some interesting sections explaining olde Tokyo society and post war struggles, but the place failed to give me the bigger picture and the English captions were a touch short. Everyone else who's been there says it's excellent though, so maybe I missed a bit.
The one exhibit that really stuck in my mind was a large column of stratified soil which had been removed from central Tokyo to make way for the foundations of a skyscraper. During its tumultious past Tokyo has been burnt to cinders and rebuilt time and time again- blackened sections clearly marked the Edo fires, the Kantō earthquake of 1923 and the WW2 fire bombing. This constant cycle of death and rebirth may go some way to explaining the "out with the old, in with the new" ethos so prevalent here. Or maybe it's a Buddhist thing?
On the way back home, by complete fluke, I bumped into the American chap who lives in the room next to me. He and a couple of friends were searching for an IPod and so I joined the hunt. When the IPoding was over we discussed what to do next and Isakayas were mentioned. Somewhat rashly I said I'd never been to one and so off we went into the dark heart of Ueno on a new mission.
An Isakaya is a traditional Japanese pub and though they serve the same purpose as English ones, they go about it in a slightly different way. They're quite a bit more cramped than the pubs back home with everyone seated on close packed higgldey-piggldey tables and chairs. Usually there's a grill serving tasty Japanese kebabs and your food and drinks are brought to you by the rushed-off-their-feet waiting staff.
The drink selection was also new to me. While ordering the first drinks someone suggested I should have the tea, which sounded harmless enough! What arrived was a cup of weak Oolong loaded to bursting with strong Shochu (the Japanese vodka). It was tasty but packed a quite punch. I didn't want to spend much and after so after my second Oonlong I decided to call it a night and get my last drink. "Hoppy" was recommended and at only two pounds how could I refuse.
A bottle of "Hoppy" beer and another cup of Shochu appeared. I was shown how to pour a tiny bit of hoppy into the Shochu to create an odd beery cocktail. I finished it off, but still had a lot of Hoppy left. Then another cup of Shochu appeared. I poured in a bit more hoppy and finished it...Then another Shochu appeared. Then another. Then another. It kept coming. The stuff lasted me for over an hour and a half. Never has two quid stretched so far.
On the way home I was a bit more stumbly than I was hoppy, but then I doubt anything called "stumbly" would sell. At least, not without a good advertising campaign.
The Edo museum was alright. The building is impressively big with a lot of open space and some spectacularly detailed models of Tokyo in days of yore. There were some interesting sections explaining olde Tokyo society and post war struggles, but the place failed to give me the bigger picture and the English captions were a touch short. Everyone else who's been there says it's excellent though, so maybe I missed a bit.
The one exhibit that really stuck in my mind was a large column of stratified soil which had been removed from central Tokyo to make way for the foundations of a skyscraper. During its tumultious past Tokyo has been burnt to cinders and rebuilt time and time again- blackened sections clearly marked the Edo fires, the Kantō earthquake of 1923 and the WW2 fire bombing. This constant cycle of death and rebirth may go some way to explaining the "out with the old, in with the new" ethos so prevalent here. Or maybe it's a Buddhist thing?
On the way back home, by complete fluke, I bumped into the American chap who lives in the room next to me. He and a couple of friends were searching for an IPod and so I joined the hunt. When the IPoding was over we discussed what to do next and Isakayas were mentioned. Somewhat rashly I said I'd never been to one and so off we went into the dark heart of Ueno on a new mission.
An Isakaya is a traditional Japanese pub and though they serve the same purpose as English ones, they go about it in a slightly different way. They're quite a bit more cramped than the pubs back home with everyone seated on close packed higgldey-piggldey tables and chairs. Usually there's a grill serving tasty Japanese kebabs and your food and drinks are brought to you by the rushed-off-their-feet waiting staff.
The drink selection was also new to me. While ordering the first drinks someone suggested I should have the tea, which sounded harmless enough! What arrived was a cup of weak Oolong loaded to bursting with strong Shochu (the Japanese vodka). It was tasty but packed a quite punch. I didn't want to spend much and after so after my second Oonlong I decided to call it a night and get my last drink. "Hoppy" was recommended and at only two pounds how could I refuse.
A bottle of "Hoppy" beer and another cup of Shochu appeared. I was shown how to pour a tiny bit of hoppy into the Shochu to create an odd beery cocktail. I finished it off, but still had a lot of Hoppy left. Then another cup of Shochu appeared. I poured in a bit more hoppy and finished it...Then another Shochu appeared. Then another. Then another. It kept coming. The stuff lasted me for over an hour and a half. Never has two quid stretched so far.
On the way home I was a bit more stumbly than I was hoppy, but then I doubt anything called "stumbly" would sell. At least, not without a good advertising campaign.
Sunday 20 April 2008
Dairy to be Different
Sadly what I mean when I said 'that's all I trust myself to say!' was 'that's all I trust myself to say before I start keyboard slurring'. Noone like to read keyboard slurring!
I had an interesting day yesterday starting with a trip to a station milk bar. That's right, a milk bar! The open fronted store had a fine display of every sort of milk you can imagine on the counter. High calcium milks, low fat milks, little yogurt drinks, milks imported from all the Japanese islands and tasty looking fruit milks jostled each other in a big huddle, ready for you to make your choice.
It was a challenge not to give the poor serving girl a "What's the vintage on this fine semi-skimmed?" or "I'll have the strawberry, shaken not stirred" but I bit my tongue, made my choice and my milk was handed too me in a little glass bottle. The stuff was creamy and probably good milk, but then I don't like milk much.
I wasn't disappointed though, how many people can say they've been to a milk bar?!
(My thoughts on Isakayas, Edo Tokyo and Hoppi when I've had some lunch and done my Japanese homework)
I had an interesting day yesterday starting with a trip to a station milk bar. That's right, a milk bar! The open fronted store had a fine display of every sort of milk you can imagine on the counter. High calcium milks, low fat milks, little yogurt drinks, milks imported from all the Japanese islands and tasty looking fruit milks jostled each other in a big huddle, ready for you to make your choice.
It was a challenge not to give the poor serving girl a "What's the vintage on this fine semi-skimmed?" or "I'll have the strawberry, shaken not stirred" but I bit my tongue, made my choice and my milk was handed too me in a little glass bottle. The stuff was creamy and probably good milk, but then I don't like milk much.
I wasn't disappointed though, how many people can say they've been to a milk bar?!
(My thoughts on Isakayas, Edo Tokyo and Hoppi when I've had some lunch and done my Japanese homework)
Isakaya, nomimono and such
So, I've been to my first "Isakaya" (Japanese Pub) and am in no fit state to write a blog entry. In Isakayas they serve something that is known as hoppi. It's a cheap spirit mixed with beer that they keep serving until you can drink no more. I'm told it " makes you feel bad in the morning!"
I don't look forward to the morning, but for the moment I feel fine! (maybe too fine).
Today I visited the Tokyo Edo museum and had a good time. After that I met some friends from my dorm in Ueno and "had myself a time"!
...and that's all I trust myself to say! I'll write more tomorrow, scouts honor.
-an Isakaya'd Duncan
I don't look forward to the morning, but for the moment I feel fine! (maybe too fine).
Today I visited the Tokyo Edo museum and had a good time. After that I met some friends from my dorm in Ueno and "had myself a time"!
...and that's all I trust myself to say! I'll write more tomorrow, scouts honor.
-an Isakaya'd Duncan
Friday 18 April 2008
All the Whey
Today it rained buckets. It started before I went to bed last night, was still going when I got up and so far hasn't stopped. When the weather is wet Tokyo becomes a plastic sea of umbrellas and is quite hard to navigate. The average hight that the people hold their umbrellas at is about the same as the average high of my eyes, and a simple walk down the street means big danger. I was uncomfortably pronged in the nose a couple of times but as of yet haven't lost the gift of vision.
In other news, I've finally solved my milk problem: Calpis Water.
Calpis is a very popular drink in Japan. The semi-opaque white liquid looks like it should more properly be spelled with an "ow" than an "al" and for this reason I'd been keeping away from it. Today, however, curiosity got the better of me and I bought a bottle from a vending machine, crossed myself and poured it down the hatch.
As is often the case with Japanese food, what initially looks or sounds disgusting turns out be fantastic (Raw fish anyone? Sweet beans? Horse meat?). Calpis is no exception. It has a sweet, creamy, lemony taste- like a melted citrus mini milk. The bottle boasts "Happy Refresh" and I'm pleased to say it made me both happy and refreshed.
I'll certainly be drinking more Calpis, I just hope the name isn't a lie and it actually has calcium in it!
In other news, I've finally solved my milk problem: Calpis Water.
Calpis is a very popular drink in Japan. The semi-opaque white liquid looks like it should more properly be spelled with an "ow" than an "al" and for this reason I'd been keeping away from it. Today, however, curiosity got the better of me and I bought a bottle from a vending machine, crossed myself and poured it down the hatch.
As is often the case with Japanese food, what initially looks or sounds disgusting turns out be fantastic (Raw fish anyone? Sweet beans? Horse meat?). Calpis is no exception. It has a sweet, creamy, lemony taste- like a melted citrus mini milk. The bottle boasts "Happy Refresh" and I'm pleased to say it made me both happy and refreshed.
I'll certainly be drinking more Calpis, I just hope the name isn't a lie and it actually has calcium in it!
Thursday 17 April 2008
The saline solution
I've been feeling slightly off for most of today- a little shaky and highly strung. I was putting it down to some odd dietary deficiency, but now I think it might be the complete opposite. I think I may have eaten too much salt.
The food here is very nice, but there's salt in everything. Salty seaweed, salty soy sauce, salty salmon (okay, I'll drop the sibilance), pickled vegetables and salty miso jump out at you from every bento box and snack stand. I've eaten so much I feel like a walking salt mill. Even my saliva has started tasting of salt, which cannot be a good sign! For the last few hours, as a temporary remedy, I've been filling myself full of water but the stuff doesn't seem to be washing out. I can honestly see no way round the problem. If you want to eat, there is no escape.
With such a high salt intake, it surprises me that the people here don't die of heart failure in their 30s. Could generations of salinated Udon have led to natural selection? Maybe eating enough sodium pickles you. That, at least, would explain why Japanese people have the highest life expectancy in the world!
Anyway, I certainly shan't be drinking any miso for dinner. A cardiac arrest at 19 might be unlikely, but the risk isn't worth it.
Update: Dinner was the saltiest curry I've ever eaten. Quite soon I'll start to crystallize.
The food here is very nice, but there's salt in everything. Salty seaweed, salty soy sauce, salty salmon (okay, I'll drop the sibilance), pickled vegetables and salty miso jump out at you from every bento box and snack stand. I've eaten so much I feel like a walking salt mill. Even my saliva has started tasting of salt, which cannot be a good sign! For the last few hours, as a temporary remedy, I've been filling myself full of water but the stuff doesn't seem to be washing out. I can honestly see no way round the problem. If you want to eat, there is no escape.
With such a high salt intake, it surprises me that the people here don't die of heart failure in their 30s. Could generations of salinated Udon have led to natural selection? Maybe eating enough sodium pickles you. That, at least, would explain why Japanese people have the highest life expectancy in the world!
Anyway, I certainly shan't be drinking any miso for dinner. A cardiac arrest at 19 might be unlikely, but the risk isn't worth it.
Update: Dinner was the saltiest curry I've ever eaten. Quite soon I'll start to crystallize.
Wednesday 16 April 2008
Lost in Transition
I seem to have made a habit of prefacing blog posts by telling you all how tired I am. Well, today's is no different. I am completely smashed- I'm the most mentally drained I've been for about a year! Why I'm actually writing an entry is beyond me. I'm too tired to know.
Slight hyperbole aside, I had my first "real" lesson today. As was predicted, I knew most of the gramar, but my vocabulary was totally lacking. I spent the lesson scribbling at doublespeed, adding new words to my vocab list, checking their meanings on my DS dictionary, practicing Kanji strokes, desperately trying to memorize everything and, at the same time, keeping an ear out for new information from the teacher (who is very good, but speaks almost no English). It was hectic and utterly exhausting, but at least everything is withing my level.
I managed to get lost again on the way home today. My journey has one change at Ikebukuro which is the gateway from Shakuji Koen to central Tokyo and, I think, one of Japan's biggest stations.
Oddly enough I'm absolutely fine on the journey *to* the school, but on the way back I get lost without fail. I've done if four times in a row. My body is now so used to getting lost that I do it automatically. Without thinking, my legs carry me in the direction of lost and I spend half an hour looking for my platform and passing the same damned snackshop time and time again. Today, on my fourth trudge past, the girl behind the counter actually giggled at me. Considering the excessive politeness of the people in the country, that's quite an achievement.
Just I as I started thinking "I may be lost, but at least I'm making a thorough job of it", the sign to my platform popped up on the left and I caught the fast train home. It was actually slightly disappointing.
Slight hyperbole aside, I had my first "real" lesson today. As was predicted, I knew most of the gramar, but my vocabulary was totally lacking. I spent the lesson scribbling at doublespeed, adding new words to my vocab list, checking their meanings on my DS dictionary, practicing Kanji strokes, desperately trying to memorize everything and, at the same time, keeping an ear out for new information from the teacher (who is very good, but speaks almost no English). It was hectic and utterly exhausting, but at least everything is withing my level.
I managed to get lost again on the way home today. My journey has one change at Ikebukuro which is the gateway from Shakuji Koen to central Tokyo and, I think, one of Japan's biggest stations.
Oddly enough I'm absolutely fine on the journey *to* the school, but on the way back I get lost without fail. I've done if four times in a row. My body is now so used to getting lost that I do it automatically. Without thinking, my legs carry me in the direction of lost and I spend half an hour looking for my platform and passing the same damned snackshop time and time again. Today, on my fourth trudge past, the girl behind the counter actually giggled at me. Considering the excessive politeness of the people in the country, that's quite an achievement.
Just I as I started thinking "I may be lost, but at least I'm making a thorough job of it", the sign to my platform popped up on the left and I caught the fast train home. It was actually slightly disappointing.
Tuesday 15 April 2008
Back to School
I just got back from my first day at the Ark School and am pretty blasted.
I rather messed up the level check on Sunday, so the class my school put me into was quite easy (introductions and how to write the kana). After telling my teacher, they agreed to re-do the level check and I had a very animated Japanese conversation with a very nice Japanese teacher about trains, planes and lost luggage.
The results were that my grammar is far too good for the beginner class, but my vocab isn't near good enough for the intermediate. The choice I was given boiled down to joining A) a far too easy class or B) a far too hard class.
Like the fool I am, I chose "far too hard".
In other news- Today I ate a Japanese apple. You poor souls back in England may find it hard to imagine Japanese apples. The things are huge, about the size of four regular Coxs crushed into a ball. The texture isn't great, but they have a very fragrant taste, and are so juicy you could use a straw. They're the kind of things I imagine Adam and Eve snacked on in Eden before they were given the boot.
Why we don't have such apples in England is anyone's guess. Probably something to do with GM trading standards....
I also visited Toubu in Ikebukuro, one of the worlds largest department stores. Toubu is a startling 29 stories high, but I only made it to number seven to pick up a notebook and a pen. After not too much browsing I found a charming and lovely notebook with a large coat of arms on the front and the heading "Guildford". The caption underneath the coat of arms reads as follows.
The Guildford notebook was 50p more than all the others, but it was so charming and lovely that I just couldn't say no!
For my writing device I splashed out another two pounds fifty on the "make your own tri-colour pen". Empty pen shells sat beneath a rainbow of different pen fillings. I picked a blue, a yellow and, as it seemed to fit, a pink. So far I have not regretted my choices- if one's writing is illegible anyway, one may as well use nice colours.
Here's wishing you all a charming and lovely day.
I rather messed up the level check on Sunday, so the class my school put me into was quite easy (introductions and how to write the kana). After telling my teacher, they agreed to re-do the level check and I had a very animated Japanese conversation with a very nice Japanese teacher about trains, planes and lost luggage.
The results were that my grammar is far too good for the beginner class, but my vocab isn't near good enough for the intermediate. The choice I was given boiled down to joining A) a far too easy class or B) a far too hard class.
Like the fool I am, I chose "far too hard".
In other news- Today I ate a Japanese apple. You poor souls back in England may find it hard to imagine Japanese apples. The things are huge, about the size of four regular Coxs crushed into a ball. The texture isn't great, but they have a very fragrant taste, and are so juicy you could use a straw. They're the kind of things I imagine Adam and Eve snacked on in Eden before they were given the boot.
Why we don't have such apples in England is anyone's guess. Probably something to do with GM trading standards....
I also visited Toubu in Ikebukuro, one of the worlds largest department stores. Toubu is a startling 29 stories high, but I only made it to number seven to pick up a notebook and a pen. After not too much browsing I found a charming and lovely notebook with a large coat of arms on the front and the heading "Guildford". The caption underneath the coat of arms reads as follows.
Guildford is the most charming and lovely town in Surrey.
It has maintained its attractive rural villages,
riverside walks, gardens and Tudor architectures.
The Guildford notebook was 50p more than all the others, but it was so charming and lovely that I just couldn't say no!
For my writing device I splashed out another two pounds fifty on the "make your own tri-colour pen". Empty pen shells sat beneath a rainbow of different pen fillings. I picked a blue, a yellow and, as it seemed to fit, a pink. So far I have not regretted my choices- if one's writing is illegible anyway, one may as well use nice colours.
Here's wishing you all a charming and lovely day.
Big City
I've done and seen so much today that going into detail about it all would fill a small novel. Also, it's late, I'm tired and it's past twelve, so I hope you'll forgive me if I cheat and use bullet points.
If there's anything in particular you'd like me to elaborate on, drop me a comment and watch this space!
- Woke up too late for breakfast (which ends at 8:30.. ugh), so I went to the highly recommended Mos Burger for brunch. Though the comparison is a cruel one, Mos Burger is the quite like a Japanese McDonalds. The big difference is that Mos Burger is good- the burgers drip tasty dressings, are filled to the brim with fresh tomatoes and lettice, and are served in pretty wicker baskets. Not good for you of course, but then what is?
- Met Tom and Joel in Shibuya and headed over to the imperial palace. Sadly the palace was closed , but we had a nice trot round the edge and met some hungry Koi in the castle moat.
- Searched for some fruit, so I could pretend to be eating healthily.
- Found no fruit anywhere, but did stumble upon a ICE CREAM VENDING MACHINE. Of course we had to try it....
- Ate Onigiri at a "conbini" (convenience) store. Eventually located a very small pot of very expensive melon which I reluctantly bought and less reluctantly ate.
- Climbed to the 43rd floor of the Tokyo Metropolitan Building to see Tokyo. Tokyo is quite big. Pictures some time in the near future. I promise.
- Climbed down the Tokyo Met Building and found a lost phone in the entrance to the subway. Being the only one who spoke Japanese (ish), I ran back to the Met receptionists who told me to take it back to the subway. Eventually I found a helpful station assistant who took it to lost property.
- Met Ami in a record store and went to see her University's art exhibition (it was very good!)
- Ate Japanese seaweed and egg pasta at an Italian resteraunt near Tokyo tower.
- Saw a giant-realtime-touchscreen-globe and some very poorly produced television drama posters at a TV station.
- Visited the incredible Ropongi towers shopping centre. A place for Tokyo's very rich to shop and look smug. We didn't have enough money to shop or look smug, but wandered around looking gobsmacked instead.
- Browsed a book store where I stopped Joel buying a robot.
- Played Mario Kart. (I undeservedly won at in the last second of the race.)
- Left T, J & A at an underground station somewhere and made the long and arduous journey back to the dormetry.
If there's anything in particular you'd like me to elaborate on, drop me a comment and watch this space!
Monday 14 April 2008
Gigs and giggles
Just got back from my first Japanese"gig".
I met up with my chums Tom, Joel and Ami at half two, and we poked around Shibuya and the surrounding districts. I ate a cheese and blueberry donut, Joel bought a Moomin pendant, Tom took us to a crazy photobooth, place, thing and Ami (a local Tokyite who spent a year at my secondary school) kindly endured my practacing Japanese at her. Fun times!
The real meat and veg of the evening was going to see Joel's friends band play. The gig was a relatively tame affair- About a hundred and fifty Japanese teenagers stood in four neat lines, bobbing and watching apreciatively as the bands tried desperately to get them going.
As the music reached a fever pich and the gitaurists lept around the stage, a couple of people at the front started gently jumping, and one girl took off her jumper and danced in a bikini top. That was about as crazy as things got.
We left early and hit a "traditional English pub" (hah), and then a delicious fast food rice & beef joint were a good meal was under two quids. Food in Japan may be cheap, but the drinks are really expensive with a pint of guiness setting you back as much as six pounds (five if you're lucky) and regular beer around four.
I should probably save my drinking mony for Cambodia where pints are fifty pence a pop and spirits flow like water. My liver says no but my heart says yes!
Saturday 12 April 2008
The computer
So in the end I had to buy a laptop. I managed to find one for eighty pounds in the basement of a shady Akihabara second hand "paasocon" dealer.
It's quite a brute of a machine, huge for a laptop and heavily tarnished, but it works a treat. The 225 mbs of ram and 600kb processor buzz and whir, but can even run youtube without breaking into too much of a sweat. You can tell it was built to last simply by the fact that it still works.
Oh, and it came with a whole months warranty too!
It's quite a brute of a machine, huge for a laptop and heavily tarnished, but it works a treat. The 225 mbs of ram and 600kb processor buzz and whir, but can even run youtube without breaking into too much of a sweat. You can tell it was built to last simply by the fact that it still works.
Oh, and it came with a whole months warranty too!
More from the techno-capital
I went five minutes overtime writing my blog entry yesterday. On my way out of the internet caffe the woman behind the till gave me a look that was cold enough to freeze the blood. She charged me another fifty pence and glared until I was out of sight. Punctuality really is very important here!
I was planning to head to the imperial palace today and see the home of the oldest reigning dynasty in the world. However, my parents are funding a small internet device (parents, I love you y'know!), so I find myself in the Shibuya apple store again, asking if Ipod touches will work with ISP cables. To my bitter disappointment, the answer is no. Neither do most blackberries so I'm off to Akihabara once more to see if I can find a specialist one (or a cheap laptop) that I can use in the dorm.
After my last blog post I looked around a few more Akihabara game shops and headed back home. On the way to the station I went past a park famous for being a "costume player" area. For reasons beyond my comprehension "cosplay" (or what I've taken to calling "codsplay"due to the way the people pronounce it) is a really big thing in Japan. Hundreds of people dress up as their favorite TV characters and parade around for hours on end, showing off their costume, socializing and "strutting their stuff".
Apparently on Sundays the park is full or all sorts of interesting apparel, but yesterday the only codsplayers were one lonely looking girl in a skimpy nurse uniform and a two wizards handing out promotional tissues.
On my way back to Shakuji I took a quick peek at one of Ikebukoro's many department schools and noticed a middle aged salary man sitting with his eyes closed in one of the shop's massage chairs. It was free and I had time to kill, so I sat down in the chair next to his and pressed the on switch.
The chair made a loud bleeping noise, then suddenly grabbed me with big leather grips and pulled me in. It systematically pummeled every part of my body for fifteen whole minutes while I tried not to yell. Claws from within latched onto my spine, tweaked my buttocks, squeezed my feet, tickled my neck and pushed and pulled everything they could get at. How the guy sitting next to me managed to keep his eyes shut throughout the experience is beyond me, but when my fifteen minutes were up he was still there, peacefully snoozing while his seat bashed him as hard as it could on the back of the head.
Now, off to find an ISP compatible miniature internet device. There must be one somewhere... this is Japan after all!
Friday 11 April 2008
Getting Technical
Today I followed the technophile in me to Akihabara, Japan's gadget capital. What a place it is! I'm writing from a dingy internet caffe ten minutes from the station. They charged me two pounds for an hour and I can't quite decide if that's super cheap or very expensive. I have only seven minutes left to write this, which really will put my speed typing to the test.
Akihabara has to be seen to be believed. Bustling open front street vendors sell any and every computer part you could possibly need, from the largest custom casings to the smallest copper modulators. Vending machines dispense small plastic models which range from the cute kiddy toys to plastic pornographic figurines.
And then there are the computer game shops which for me have been the bitterest temptation of all. Those of you who know me may know that computer games are one of my vices. The range of things I can plug into my DS is astounding and the prices are so good I literally have to wrestle my hand from my wallet not to buy anything.
Prices in Japan are actually far more reasonable than travel guides would make you think, but if I stay here much longer I'll come away broke all the same. It's like the phythonian castle anthrax.
The Japanese Animation merchandise also abounds, so if anyone wants a "sexy nurse" costume posted over then just say the word (this place can be so odd.)
Anyway, my Internet time is now over, so I'm off to grab myself a drink of wheat tea (mugicha) and practice some more electronic chastity.
Wish me luck. I'll need it.
(Also I've hardly sent my blog link to anyone, so feel free to pass it on to those who know me!)
Akihabara has to be seen to be believed. Bustling open front street vendors sell any and every computer part you could possibly need, from the largest custom casings to the smallest copper modulators. Vending machines dispense small plastic models which range from the cute kiddy toys to plastic pornographic figurines.
And then there are the computer game shops which for me have been the bitterest temptation of all. Those of you who know me may know that computer games are one of my vices. The range of things I can plug into my DS is astounding and the prices are so good I literally have to wrestle my hand from my wallet not to buy anything.
Prices in Japan are actually far more reasonable than travel guides would make you think, but if I stay here much longer I'll come away broke all the same. It's like the phythonian castle anthrax.
The Japanese Animation merchandise also abounds, so if anyone wants a "sexy nurse" costume posted over then just say the word (this place can be so odd.)
Anyway, my Internet time is now over, so I'm off to grab myself a drink of wheat tea (mugicha) and practice some more electronic chastity.
Wish me luck. I'll need it.
(Also I've hardly sent my blog link to anyone, so feel free to pass it on to those who know me!)
Thursday 10 April 2008
Dawn Chorus
I was up with the lark this morning. Up before the lark in fact. To my utter horror I woke up at 2am. I read until the sun rose and at five I decided to go and explore the neighborhood.
On my way out I bumped into into the guest-house uncle who gave me an umbrella and told me how to get to Shakuji Koen- the park that my neighborhood takes it's name from.
Only five minutes away from my dorm, the Koen is beautiful. Tall trees surround a small picturesque Japanese lake, complete with an island temple in the middle. The air was crisp, hardly anyone was about and the only noise was the quacking of ducks.
As I neared the temple the quacking stopped and I heard the sound of a strange instrument drifting across the water.
On a sheltered bench outside the temple gate sat an old man tooting on an electric saxophone (I kid you not!). He beckoned me over and asked me the usual "When did you arrive? How old are you? Where are you from?" questions. On hearing that I was an Igirisu-jin (Engrish person) his eyes brightened. He pulled a battered book of songs out from his pack and played me a selection of british favorites. It's hard to put into words the feeling of listening to the eletcro-sax rendition of Scotland the Brave while watching the morning mist float around a Japanese temple. I'll leave it up to your imaginations!
At 7am other old Japanese ladies and gents started to arrive. Excited to have an audience, they explained to me that they were the Ikekai (lit: Pond-meet) singers and that they came to the temple every morning to give their vocal chords a workout and greet the new day. They treated to my own personal concert- 9 Japanese pensioners singing their hearts out and one jet-legged blond staring on in disbelief.
The rest of the day was good too and I would go on, but I've borrowed one of the Shibuya Apple stores computers and fear I'll be kicked out if I stay any longer.
Pictures of the temple soon- if I can find somewhere to upload them!
Wednesday 9 April 2008
First addled impressions
After what seems like a year, my journey is over and Im finally here in Shakuji Koen "Student Dorm", Tokyo, Japan. Im typing on a mighty peculiar keyboard and sleep deprevation has taken its toll, so my writing isnt hanging together as much as Id like it too. Still, here are my unedited and addled initial impressions of Nohhon!
After gulping down an Oni-Giri (Cheap, delicious rice ball) at the clean but quite unremarkable Narita airport, I borded the "Skyliner" train to Ueno. This was my first real cultural experience. I found my seat number, sat down and waited. After five minutes of lonely solitude, a man with a hard hat and a formidable looking vacume device hobbled into view. This was followed by a tapping at the window behind me and I looked round to see two station workers in fantastically queint caps waving me frantically off the train. I tried carrige door, but it was locked to stop foolish foreigners from boarding. I ran to the next carrige and encounted the same problem.
My beckoning behatted friends broke into a jog and signaled me further and further down the train. Finally, puffing and apologising profusely, I escaped through a very small door in the drivers cabin. Back inside the train, even more vacum weilding janitors had materialised and vacumed every surface in seconds flat. Once the job was done, they dissapeared and all the seats in the tain (east facing) automatically flipped round for the westbound journey.
I was beckoned back on and we headed off.
Here is a list of the notable things I saw from my window seat:
- Hundreds of sorry looking Sakura trees, petals having alsmost fallen.
- Large bamboo forests, some with little shrines.
- Graveyards with row upon row of match stick thin grave stones, many adorned with decorative sticks.
- A large sign bearing the motto "Wine - The best friend of life" (I giggled at this, a lot, which bought me some miffed looks from my fellow passengers.)
- Industrail looking langscapes neatly punctuated with cute little intensive farms, complete with orage clad laborers.
- A sight for the "Churipu Matsuri", or Chulip Festival overa field containing more tulips than Ive seen in my life.
- So many other things Im too tired to remember or articulate!
On my arrival in Ueno I was met by Mai Hirai, who expertly sheperded my through the Tokyo train system (all funny noises and haunting tunes) to sign my accomidation forms (which I wont go into detail about).Then handed me over to a nice American student who showed me to the acomidation.
The house "Uncle", a brisk but kindly man who seemed uncomfortably similar to the teacher from Battle Royale, explained the rules and regulations in incomprehensable plain-form Japanese and left me, tired and confused, standing in my room next to a pile of complicated Fuuton sheets and the worst pillow in the world. I managed to fashion a makeshift cacoon and caught 2 hours sleep before heading down to dinner.
A nice Korean chap said I could borrow his computer, and here I am! Now I must go and see to the Jigsaw puzzle that is my bed!
Oyasuminasai and all that. Duncan
After gulping down an Oni-Giri (Cheap, delicious rice ball) at the clean but quite unremarkable Narita airport, I borded the "Skyliner" train to Ueno. This was my first real cultural experience. I found my seat number, sat down and waited. After five minutes of lonely solitude, a man with a hard hat and a formidable looking vacume device hobbled into view. This was followed by a tapping at the window behind me and I looked round to see two station workers in fantastically queint caps waving me frantically off the train. I tried carrige door, but it was locked to stop foolish foreigners from boarding. I ran to the next carrige and encounted the same problem.
My beckoning behatted friends broke into a jog and signaled me further and further down the train. Finally, puffing and apologising profusely, I escaped through a very small door in the drivers cabin. Back inside the train, even more vacum weilding janitors had materialised and vacumed every surface in seconds flat. Once the job was done, they dissapeared and all the seats in the tain (east facing) automatically flipped round for the westbound journey.
I was beckoned back on and we headed off.
Here is a list of the notable things I saw from my window seat:
- Hundreds of sorry looking Sakura trees, petals having alsmost fallen.
- Large bamboo forests, some with little shrines.
- Graveyards with row upon row of match stick thin grave stones, many adorned with decorative sticks.
- A large sign bearing the motto "Wine - The best friend of life" (I giggled at this, a lot, which bought me some miffed looks from my fellow passengers.)
- Industrail looking langscapes neatly punctuated with cute little intensive farms, complete with orage clad laborers.
- A sight for the "Churipu Matsuri", or Chulip Festival overa field containing more tulips than Ive seen in my life.
- So many other things Im too tired to remember or articulate!
On my arrival in Ueno I was met by Mai Hirai, who expertly sheperded my through the Tokyo train system (all funny noises and haunting tunes) to sign my accomidation forms (which I wont go into detail about).Then handed me over to a nice American student who showed me to the acomidation.
The house "Uncle", a brisk but kindly man who seemed uncomfortably similar to the teacher from Battle Royale, explained the rules and regulations in incomprehensable plain-form Japanese and left me, tired and confused, standing in my room next to a pile of complicated Fuuton sheets and the worst pillow in the world. I managed to fashion a makeshift cacoon and caught 2 hours sleep before heading down to dinner.
A nice Korean chap said I could borrow his computer, and here I am! Now I must go and see to the Jigsaw puzzle that is my bed!
Oyasuminasai and all that. Duncan
Tuesday 8 April 2008
The Last Minute
All that's packed is packed, all that's forgotten is forgotten. Tomorrow I head off bright and early to Birmingham airport.
Today was pretty hectic to say the least. Everything was going smoothly until I visited Natwest to ask them why my accommodation payments were late. After about half an hour of phoning, they told me that they didn't know where the payment forms were. After a considerable amount of panicking on my part and some more phoning we decided that it was a better idea to pay my housing expenses in cash when I got there- this heralded a mad dash around town looking for yen. Nowhere, and I mean NOWHERE in Leamington sells yen.
I ran back to the bank and panicked at them some more, while they phoned other banks to find yen. There were no yen. I phoned my dad who turned up and looked gruff while I hyperventilated in the corner. My friend Owen, who had rather rashly accompanied, me tried hard to suppress signs of boredom. Eventually someone had the idea of travelers cheques and, after another mad dash, the matter was settled.
Anyway, today's debacle is over and I must get some sleep in preparation for tomorrow's. I have to get up at 6:30 and while I'm excited to be heading to the land of the rising sun, I wish I didn't have to rise with it!
Today was pretty hectic to say the least. Everything was going smoothly until I visited Natwest to ask them why my accommodation payments were late. After about half an hour of phoning, they told me that they didn't know where the payment forms were. After a considerable amount of panicking on my part and some more phoning we decided that it was a better idea to pay my housing expenses in cash when I got there- this heralded a mad dash around town looking for yen. Nowhere, and I mean NOWHERE in Leamington sells yen.
I ran back to the bank and panicked at them some more, while they phoned other banks to find yen. There were no yen. I phoned my dad who turned up and looked gruff while I hyperventilated in the corner. My friend Owen, who had rather rashly accompanied, me tried hard to suppress signs of boredom. Eventually someone had the idea of travelers cheques and, after another mad dash, the matter was settled.
Anyway, today's debacle is over and I must get some sleep in preparation for tomorrow's. I have to get up at 6:30 and while I'm excited to be heading to the land of the rising sun, I wish I didn't have to rise with it!
Monday 7 April 2008
Packing for Backpacking
This post is to test if the "update blog by e-mail" option actually works. It's also a last ditch attempt to delay troublesome packing.
I'll explain the problem- My first port of call is Japan. I'm spending a month in a student dorm in Tokyo, heading out every day to study Japanese at the Shibuya ARC Academy. While in Japan, it will be useful to have a selection of nice clothes so the cleanliness conscious Japanese won't view me as a dirty Gaijin hippy.
However, in Cambodia conditions are totally different. Jumping from guesthouse to guesthouse almost daily, I'll need light luggage that can be carried on my back without snapping limbs. This must include such necessities as a mosquito net, insect spray, medical kit, syringes for blood transfusions, a water bottle, sun hat, sixty days of anti-malarials, water purification tablets, elephant gun and the ever-handy-in-hot-climates Johnson's Baby Powder.
How on earth do I pack smart clothes for chilly weather, Japanese dictionaries + guide books and still have room for everything else without creating a load so heavy I need a pack horse?
And while on the subject, how much do pack horses cost these days?
I'll explain the problem- My first port of call is Japan. I'm spending a month in a student dorm in Tokyo, heading out every day to study Japanese at the Shibuya ARC Academy. While in Japan, it will be useful to have a selection of nice clothes so the cleanliness conscious Japanese won't view me as a dirty Gaijin hippy.
However, in Cambodia conditions are totally different. Jumping from guesthouse to guesthouse almost daily, I'll need light luggage that can be carried on my back without snapping limbs. This must include such necessities as a mosquito net, insect spray, medical kit, syringes for blood transfusions, a water bottle, sun hat, sixty days of anti-malarials, water purification tablets, elephant gun and the ever-handy-in-hot-climates Johnson's Baby Powder.
How on earth do I pack smart clothes for chilly weather, Japanese dictionaries + guide books and still have room for everything else without creating a load so heavy I need a pack horse?
And while on the subject, how much do pack horses cost these days?
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