Happy New Year?

2009 was a bit strange. I lost my job, moved to New York, met some new friends, rejoined some old. Thinking back, it's just a blurry wash of people's faces, shitty weather, and still-image memories passing before my mind's eye.

Being unemployed will do that to you.

But it's surprising how quickly some things change, in ways you'd never expect them to. In fact almost always in ways you never expect. I don't think the first two months of 2009 and the last two could have been anymore at contrast with the middle eight than they ended up being. The details aren't important, but 2009 was pretty much a load of soft and tasty egg salad nestled between two painfully stale pieces of pumpernickel. And once you eat it, it's gone.

And perhaps even more unsettling than looking back on a year gone by, is wondering what's to come in the next. Will you find love, success, good health - or will you lose it? Within the next twelve months, our questions will inevitably be answered, and we'll find our selves looking back on it all again, and in turn, wondering about the future.

With all of this weighing on my mind, on New Years Day I headed to Chinatown to have dinner with a friend. We went to Joe's dumpling place, or whatever, which is supposed to have the best dumplings in town. The waiter was terse and in quite a hurry when taking our order. Then be brought the fried rice and two orders of dumplings that we asked for, along with some other mystery dish that we didn't order. I tell the waiter we didn't order this particular dish and he started raising his voice in disagreement. I remained adamant that there must have been a misunderstanding with our order. He makes a clicking sound with his tongue and stomps off. He brings back a menu to try and convince me that we had indeed ordered the mystery dish by pointing to it on the menu, almost yelling at this point, in the intimately crowded dining room of Joe's dumpling tourist trap. All eyes were upon us. I simply maintained that there must have been a misunderstanding, which in any other restaurant would not have been met with such impudence. I decided to wait for the check before taking further action, but by this time I was raging inside and had lost my appetite. It just really made a very unpleasant experience out of what should have been an enjoyable dinner.

Not five minutes after stepping out of Joe's dumpling hell hole, I started to feel that all too recognizable gurgle in my lower intestinal tract. After foolishly failing to heed the warning signs, I realized that this was the real deal and frantically started to look for someplace in Soho that was open and had restroom. Suddenly there was a clearing, and rising from it, a Korean grocery store shining brilliantly in the viridescent light. I made it just in time. But I ended up sitting at the eat-in cafeteria there for an hour until I was sure my stomach had settled.

It was definitely time to go home. I got a seat on the 6 train and just moments before getting off, this guy standing directly in front of me attempted a hand-switch with his large coffee, and at just the moment when an object passing between two hands is at it's most vulnerable, the train jolted, which sent his coffee flying ass-over-teat directly in front of me, spraying me with coffee literally from head to toe (as a woman screamed dramatically). So coffee boy doesn't even say anything, but runs to the other end of the train. Great.
I felt utterly defeated, afraid of what humiliating situation I would be subjected to next. I was also struck with the notion that this may simply be a foreshadowing of what the new year has in store for me. I was worried in a way that I'm usually not.

I woke up the next morning still afraid. But in the shower, I was mulling over the previous night's occurrences and I started to realize something.
The service at Joe's was really shitty, but without even having to complain further, the guy actually ended up not charging us for the mystery dish, or the Tsing Tao he never bothered to bring me.
And although I was sprayed with coffee, and it was embarrassing, most of it actually ended up on the floor of the train, and probably on coffee boy. I was able to blot most of it up with a tissue before any stains set in.
And...I didn't shit my pants!

A wave of relief came over me - I had actually been quite lucky after all. Things could have been much worse, but I had only seen the misfortune that fell upon me, and not the misfortune I was actually spared. So I'm making this experience my theme for 2010. If you're yelled at by a Chinese waiter, some guy spills coffee on you, and you still don't shit your pants - it's been a fairly decent day. But seriously, I need to get some stuff done this year.

Worst. Blog. Ever.

Somehow I knew it would come to this. My exploration into the outer reaches of the blogosphere lasted all of six posts! Like many an impulse that has fallen by the wayside, I forsook it upon simply loosing the desire to continue. Not unlike the cello lessons I begged my parents for as a teenager - abandoned soon after discovering that the cello is in fact a terribly heavy and cumbersome instrument. Not unlike the time I was convinced that seiza style zen meditation was going to change my life and make me a much more agreeable person, only to give it up three days into the onset. Oh the painful onset. And not unlike the time I embarked on a trek to eat cheeseburgers across America, only making it as far as Hackensack, New Jersey.

And now here I am, two years later and a world away, crawling back to you on my knees, begging for your attention once again. Do I come hither, arms outstretched, bearing lush tales of exploits in the Far East? No. Rather I return to you a broken and humble man. A mere shadow of the man who once regaled you with whimsical narratives of clumsy old ladies and scholastic Pauly Shore references. 'Tis I, though you may barely recognize me. For I am no longer nestled among the thick and cozy cushiony context of being a student in Japan - the very thing that spurred my initial foray into weblogging and which, but for a short time, made me a mildly interesting person.

Allow me to briefly recap the last two years of my life...

When we left off, I was in Japan, and it had been brought to my attention that I had overlooked a major contract stipulation regarding my living arrangements, whereupon I took lodging in a "guest house" located in a bustling Tokyo suburb not far from the city center. From that day on, life was good I must say, which accounts for my neglect to actually sit down and write about it. This is all I will divulge of that period now, though I may be cajoled into delving into greater detail about my days there in the future. For now, allow me to simply bring you up to date. Upon returning to the States I was in a bit of a state of shock. After some readjustment, and with the help of a few friends, I was back on track at my final semester at university and back to work for the same company I had been employed at before I left for Japan.

Upon graduating in the Spring of 2008, which was no small feat considering the circumstances, (again I won't go into great detail, but the phrase "by the skin of my teeth" comes to mind) I decided to make an attempt at finding a job in Japan. I pursued three opportunities. The first, an interview in Toronto, Ontario with a company that has schools in Japan that teach English to children. Not only children, but they actually have classes for infants, and even pregnant mothers, with babies inside of them! The meat and potatoes of the interview consisted of a role-play lesson in which I, the teacher, had five minutes to devise a lesson plan and was then judged on my ability to teach it to the student, in this case, a grown woman, acting like seven year old girl. Not only did my very non-outgoing personality lend poorly to this situation, but the vague eroticism of it all was very distracting. I did not get the job.

The second opportunity: The Boston Career Forum. That's right, it's October, that time of year when hoards of suit clad, soon to be Japanese graduates converge on the Boston Convention center to look for a job that will undoubtedly dictate the course of their lives. I managed to land an interview with Bandai, the toy company. It was in Japanese, and I must admit I had a bit of difficulty discussing things that were completely unrelated to food, booze or pillow talk. However, I did manage to land a second interview for later that day, which didn't go quite as well. I did not get the job.

The third opportunity: JET. JET is the Holy Grail of jobs for foreigners in Japan. It's a government run employment program that places people from English speaking countries into primary schools all across Japan to be English Teaching Assistants. It pays very well, flight cost is covered, rent is covered, transport to and from work is covered, and they offer health insurance. Needless to say, it's a very competitive program and the application process was extremely arduous and time consuming. I submitted it in November '08 and had an interview by the end of February '09. The interview went well, because I was actually offered the job in March! If this event had taken place just a month or two earlier, I probably would be writing a much more interesting weblog entry right now, from Japan. You would probably be enjoying it.

However, a series of events took place for which there is no need to get into at this time. The stars were aligned, if you will, and I chose to gratefully decline the position I was offered, and instead moved to Brooklyn, NY, where I have been since May, and where I write to you now, on my bed, in my humble 7x7 bedroom.

The events of the past which I have described to you are, for the most part, inconsequential to what I may write in the future, but are intended to give a little context to the garbled words that from this day forward will leave my mouth, enter my ears, travel through my brain tubes and exit my fingers in the form of hasty key strokes. I have, in the past, expressed my doubts and reservations regarding the intrinsically self-absorbed, narcissistic nature of weblogs. (see first post) But here I am telling you that...on a weblog. Ironic, isn't it? I feel it's audacious to even assume that someone is reading this. But all qualms aside, or momentarily brushed under a nearby rug and out of sight, I feel compelled to write, so write I will.

It Just Wasn't Funny

I had to give a PowerPoint presentation in class last week about the Supreme Command for the Allied Powers' post World War II policies regarding the energy industries of Japan and their effects on the recovering economy.
I read the slide, shown below, explaining the actions of Edwin Pauley, the United State's Representative to the Allied Reparations Committee, regarding reparations in front of the class and added, with a deadpan expression on my face, "...essentially weasing the juice."

The class' reaction leads me to think at least one of the following assumptions to be true:

1) My classmates are dry, humorless, overly career oriented, brainiacs who were probably too absorbed in the actual historical substance of the information on the slide to notice the ridiculousness of it.
2) They simply don't know me well enough to know how to react to something like that.
3) I now know what it's like to date myself in front of a room full of ignorant teenagers.
4) It just wasn't funny.

I'm going to have to go with the robust combination of 2, 3 and 4.




In other news - I'm moving to a place called Kichijoji in Tokyo on August first. It turns out that the contract for my current living situation expires at the end of July. Somehow I managed to miss this, though it was mentioned various times on several different official type documents.

One of Those Days

I only had one class today until 12:30, so I putzed around in the computer lab for a while after and then went to Starbucks to study Japanese. That's right, Starbucks! You got a problem with that? Except they just call it "SUTABA" here, so it's OK.
It's near my school and there's always a place to sit. Moreover, they tend to play decent study music music (ie: The Bob Marley/Lee Perry sessions, but today was all Motown) and I've worked up a somewhat of a rapport with the staff where I start to order, stumble, and then they finish the sentence for me with a huge smile. There's something messed up about speaking Japanese that's actually Italian. See what happens when YOU order a "gurande aisu kyarameru mokito ". It tends not to roll off the tongue so easily. Then again, maybe that's a good thing.

After that, I walked to Shinjuku for a stop at Yodobashi, the self proclaimed largest camera store in the world. Really it's more than just cameras, but the store is located in a number of adjacent buildings. It's funny to look at the customers perusing the selection at Yodobashi. I don't know why really, but I guess when I see someone looking at camera stuff it makes me think that we all have this secret camera life. You just have to wonder what all these people are taking photos of. And the fervor with which some of these suit-clad middle aged men are testing high priced cameras with tends to lead the imagination into directions one would rather not discuss on a web log.

On the train ride home I watched as this poor old woman tripped over the step up into the train and fell flat on her face. I mean really flat on her face. A bunch of people ran to her aid as she kept doing the ol' "touch nose, look at hand as to make sure not bleeding" routine. Fortunately there was no blood coming from her nose, but a nasty gash on her shin left a nice trail of blood from the spot where she fell to the seat someone had offered her. There was a crowd of people around her as the doors closed and the train sped away to the next station. A woman took a handkerchief and tied it around her leg where the blood was coming from. At the next stop, someone who was getting off anyway helped her off and the train station attendants brought a wheel chair and quickly mopped up the blood so as not to cause a delay in service. Everyone was so concerned, and the train staff so helpful and efficient... So I'm just wondering how that would have played out on the train in Boston...?

So when I got home I checked my mail, and to my utter surprise, I had received an email from my university saying that ALL CLASSES are canceled next week due to a measles outbreak...
Hey, I was under the impression that Japan was one of the developed countries in Asian...
So I'll be heading out west as of tomorrow for a little vay-cay.
Japan and I need some alone time...

I Heart Japanese Toilets

Yes, yes it's been a while. I can sum up what I would have written during the past month, had I the time, by saying - Japan is good. I've never been a man of very many words, anyway. But here's a tip, my photo page is updated more frequently.

Classes are going well. Campus is like a zoo, a very fashionable zoo. No more sitting in class behind the girl wearing pajamas or the dude in a fleece with nasty cat hair all over it.
Thursdays and Mondays are Japanese Religion, Japanese Language and Japanese Business history - from 9:15 to 3:00. On Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday I have just one hour and a half long Japanese language class at 11:00, though I usually stick around campus to do homework for a while after.

I've also joined "Photo Club". University clubs, or "circles" are an important aspect of Japanese university life. They help students make friends, relieve stress, and are basically an excuse to get loaded with 20 or 30 like-minded people. Many clubs are sports oriented and other are for hobbies or interests. My favorite is FOLK SONG CLUB, which is described in the clubs list as follows:

"Hello, we are Folk Song Club. But we do not play folk song; we play Rock almost of our time. We organize bands with our member and play songs of favorite artists. If you want to enjoy playing Rock with us, come on and join us!"

Endearing...
Photo club meets once a week and has access to dark room facilities. We've only had one "nomikai" (drinking party) so far which took place at a Japanese style bar and then culminated with the cramming of 20 people into a tiny karaoke room, all of whom were chanting "take it off, take it off!" in Japanese.

I finally got around to taking pictures of my place. I guess the house is relatively old, but I'm not sure how old. Space is at a premium all over Japan, so homes are basically squeezed into whatever space is possible, are very boxy and sometimes have three stories. My place is pretty tiny. It's two stories, and can't be over a thousand square feet. It's interior is pretty traditional, which means tatami straw floors, sliding doors and paper screen windows.


See http://www.flickr.com/photos/unbdaveable for photos from the last month...

Delta 55, Rochester to Tokyo via Atlanta

After receiving a thankful bow from someone driving in a car that I let pass today, I think it finally sunk in that I'm actually here.

I arrived three days ago via a connecting flight from Atlanta, which would explain the Jeff Foxworthy fan club in the customs line ahead of me. And if they were allowed to enter the country, my student VISA and I sure as hell weren't going to be turned away. Sure enough, I was not asked a single question, but simply allowed to pass through customs and baggage inspection unmolested.

I was greeted by a student from my university, my personal monitor, who was holding up a card with my full name on it, including middle. She took me to my home where I met my roommate's parents. He was at work so he asked them to receive me. They're very nice, as is their son, my roommate.

The second day I had an orientation at my university.
Check in was at 2:30...

Me: I'm here for the exchange student orientation.
staff: OK, this is it.
Me: Are you sure? (looking around) Is this orientation or an anime convention?
staff: Well...little of both?

Naaah, just kidding. Everyone seems pretty nice...and young. And with the exception of the girl sitting next to me who was intently reading manga written in Japanese, and then later filled out a form stating that she had never studied Japanese before, anime zeal was, for the time being, suppressed.
And I met two dudes from Boston college, but had trouble joining in their discussion regarding the pluses and minuses of living on campus your senior year.
While on campus, I checked out one of the school cafeterias. I was very pleased with what I saw. kakiage, kitsune soba, curry rice, just to name a few dishes. And for an average price of about $2.00.

After orientation I headed over to Ueno park to meet Norie for some night time flower viewing, or "hanami", which this park is famous for. The cherry trees around Tokyo started blossoming last week, which means that, for Japanese people, it's time to party. On a given day while the trees are in bloom, a company office will send its lowest ranking member to the park early in the day in order to lay down a tarp which reserves a space for everyone else who will join him after work ends, at which time the drink, and the portable karaoke, will be plentiful.
However, on this night, with the exception of a few die-hards, the cherry blossom revelers were few, as the temperature dropped to a chili 40-something degrees. But there were still quite a few people simply walking through the park, enjoying the sakura blossoms.
After that, we headed to a near by izakaya where I enjoyed my first proper Japanese meal since I've arrived.

Today I went back to my university for the Japanese placement test, which will determine what classes I can take. It went well, but my kanji is a bit weak.
From there I came back to Funabashi and made a trip to city hall where I applied for an "Alien Registration Card". In order to open a bank account or buy a cell phone, it's necessary to have one.
I then went on a long long walk trying to get from funabashi station to higashi-funabashi station, near my house. I think I'll have to check the ol' Google Earth again, cause I got pretty lost (see web log name). Much of my journey was accompanied by warm air and sunshine, which suddenly turned into a freezing cold gale and a thunderstorm with sleet, as seen in the photo below. I was kind of in the middle of nowhere, without an umbrella, so I got pretty wet, but soon found my way to...the same station at which I started, where I took a train one stop to my home station and bought an umbrella at a convenience store for the walk home, where a hot bath was calling my name.

Putting the F.U. in Funabashi

A mid-sized industrial city on the northern shore of Tokyo Bay, Funabashi, which means "Land of 1,000 Pontoon Bridges" in Japanese, is the city where I will be spending the next 10 months of my life. From what I gather, there's nothing really special about it; another commuter city, home to throngs of office workers whom I assume battle their way onto trains headed for Tokyo every morning. The kind of place where people live arbitrarily. Ala yours truly.

This housing was arranged by my university. My roommate is a 21 year old Japanese guy who has just graduated and is actually starting his first big job on the day I arrive. He told me that the house I'm going to be living in was his grandfather's before he died and that it's "old", though I'm not sure in which sense of the word he means. Hole in the floor for a toilet old (seriously, I would not be surprised), or just not new?

The home is located in Higashi-Funabashi (West Funabashi) and is, from what I've been told, about a 40 minute ride, by train, to my university which is in the center of Tokyo. A commute of this distance is considered pretty good, as even though I'll be living in another prefecture, it will take me less time to get to Tokyo city than it does many people who actually live in the western end of Tokyo prefecture, much like a resident of Bridgeport CT lives much closer to New York City than someone who lives in Buffalo, NY - but on a much smaller scale.

Funabashi seems like a nice place, though I may have to venture to points due East or West for more culturally substantive experiences. Funabashi's most noted points of interest are: Japan's first IKEA, a race track, the country's largest shopping mall, and the site of a 400 million dollar indoor ski slope that went bankrupt and has since been demolished. Way to go, indoor ski slope inventor guy.

But honestly, I can't complain. I'm happy to be living someplace low-key and unassuming. The prefecture of Chiba, which Funabashi is in, is a peninsula that is made so by the waters of Tokyo Bay to the West and the Pacific Ocean to the East. It seems like a pretty nice place, and I've already got ideas for a few day trips down to the shore and the country side in the works.
Also, Chiba city, with a population of about a million, is just a 20 minute train ride to the East and is, I'm sure, worth a visit or two.