Insane and Desperate

Hot Spring

2006-04-28T11:53:00.000+09:00

Monday H. and I headed out for a night at a hot spring in Oita. H isn't too keen on the whole hot-spring scene, unless we can stay overnight (rather than just have a soak) and unless we can get a private bath (usually they're communal). She found us a place tucked away in a steep, mountain valley that not only had private, outdoor baths but a special deal: about $100 per person per night, two meals included.

After a long drive and a few wrong turns, we finally found the place, and checked in. It was beautifully done up, with a single, six-tatami sitting/sleeping room; seperate washroom and toilet; and the outdoor bath, overlooking the mountainside opposite.

H. was knackered after her drive (she's the only one with an int'l licence), and so after drinking a cup of complementary tea, she got her head down for a couple hours before dinner. I tried out the bath. It was too hot for my comfort, but after an initial soak I spent the next hour or so with my legs dangling in and reading a book. The weather was perfect, and between the steam rising up from the bath, the cool, spring breeze and the small birds flitting about, all seemed right with the world.

Just before six I got dressed for dinner, and we made the short jaunt up to the dining room.

As usual for Japan, service was exemplary: staff greeted us by name as soon as we walked in the door, and we were shown directly to our table. The dining room was a long, low hall covered in tatami mats, where all the guests gathered for meals. We had a low table to ourselves, at which we kneeled and were treated to some half-dozen courses of delectables. H. wasn't drinking, but I couldn't resist ordering myself a bottle of potato shochu (kind of like a vodka), which I drank a third of, with hot water and lemon. As usual for us, we arrived before most of the other guests, and were the last to leave.

When we got back down to our room, our beds had been laid out, and soon after we arrived, my unfinished bottle was brought down in a basket with cup and more sliced lemon (hot water was already in the room). I had another couple of drinks while H. bathed, and then we crashed out.

I couldn't sleep more than a few hours, so got up in the middle of the night and sat on the bathroom floor reading. After dawn, I had another short bath, and we went up for another massive meal; rice, pickles, soup, three varieties of fish grilled at our table, tofu, etc. By ten we were checked out and making our way back to Kumamoto.

We made much better time on the way back, and so stopped in at a mall for some shopping. H. patiently waited while I picked out a new suit on sale, and then hunted down a shirt and tie to match. I may not make my flight home, but at least I'll be well-dressed!

Noh

2006-04-27T00:26:00.000+09:00

Got up late Saturday morning to a grey, rainy day in Fukuoka. The weather was conducive to nothing, but I was determined to get out and see a couple of famous temples in Fukuoka, since I'd gone all that way. Dressed, checked out of the hotel, and after leaving my bags with reception, headed out for a wet walk down the road the Tocho and Shofuku temples.

The first is known for having the largest, wooden statue of the Buddha in Japan, but photographs weren't permitted. It was big. It was wooden. And its face strangely resembled that of our waitress from dinner the night before. Shofuku was much older (originally 11th C), and Zen (note the raked gravel), but the public weren't permitted into the central compound, so all I could do was take a shot from the gate. All in all, both were kind of disappointing.

Collected my bags, trudged over to Hakata station and killed time before my bus by shopping for a couple of Japanese CDs to take home as souvenirs. One purchase was the latest by a group called Doping Panda: they sing mainly in crippled English, but their sound is somehow very Japanese. Finally boarded a one-o'clock bus, and slept almost the whole, wet way back to Kumamoto.

That afternoon, I was to go over to the stage where I used to learn Noh and, for old-times' sake, watch a practice. The walk over there from Zac's took almost the same route that I used to walk when I lived in Kumamoto, and I couldn't help wondering to myself how many hundreds of times I'd walked that route in the past when going to practice. Felt like I'd never left.

It was about a three-hour session, during which I was able to join in some of the choral parts and, to my surprise, at the end Tsuiji-sensei invited me to dance. I had a crack at Yashima, which I'd last done over a year ago in St Catherines, and was able (with guidance from sensei) to get through it all.

Afterwards most of us piled into cars and drove up Mt Kimpo to sensei's house for one of his wife's legendary feasts. I've been up there enough times that it now feels like going to a surrogate home: less like a visitor, and more like one of the family.

At about eleven we wrapped things up, and I got a lift downtown where I made my way to Sanctuary - a local club popular with the foreign crowd (now housed in the building that used to house the Jail - another club) and had a drink or two while waiting for Zac to get off work at 01.30. When he finally did, we spent the rest of the night there, drinking more than we needed to, chatting up everything with long hair, and stumbling home at about 06.00. It was kind of fun to be recognised by the owner (Marcas and I used to spin CDs for him at his club BITD) and his son...

wisdom of the day

2006-04-23T22:56:00.000+09:00

Unrelated wisdom-of-the-day (with particular ref. to the Four Horsemen - my fellow L students): 'Force is the ultimate argument, and once it has been invoked, the only effective reply is superior force.' (Dyer's War) Let's keep that in mind when we take advocacy...

Fukuoka

2006-04-23T22:24:00.000+09:00

Friday I took the bus up to Fukuoka to crash the prefectural meeting of the CIRs (Co-ordinators for Int'l Relations - my old position in Fuk). Arrived in town (Hakata) about 13.30. Weather was good: sunny and warm - just perfect, actually. Jumped in a cab to my hotel (impressively named the Purejidento Hoteru), checked in, ironed a shirt, shaved then made my way to the subway and over to the place where the meeting was already in progress.

I arrived just as the meeting was on a break, and Ken came out to greet me. Everyone kindly welcomed me to the last half of their proceedings, and after briefly introducing yours truly, got back to 'business'. I have to say, however, that things were a pale shadow of the kind of meetings we used to have in the bad old days. Numbers are down to at most half of what they were, and there seems to be a general disinterest in what's going on. Too bad, but little to do with the people taking part: largely the fault of the people running the programme.

After the meeting it was a bit of tradition: whenever we used to come up for these meetings, Ken, Daniel, myself, etc, would usually head over to a local arcade to kill an hour before dinner. This time was no exception, save that before doing so we climbed up half the Akurosu building outside, which is a local version of Babylon's hanging gardens: the south side of the building is terraced, with an appealing variety of plants growing on each terrace, with the overall affect that, when viewed from the south, the building looks like a leafy hill.

After about an hour capping zombies at the game centre, it was off to dinner at Tattoo. This was good fun, with drinks aplenty, and sufficient food. I was happy to get to know a number of the new CIRs whom I had yet to meet (as we traded stories of 'forbidden liasons' [get in there, Dan!]), and we all stumbled out about 21.00.

At that point out numbers thinned as the most-responsible folks headed for home and the rest of us went off to karaoke. This was good fun, as the last time I went to karaoke was probably last year when I was here in Japan, but this also thinned our numbers such that by the end of our two-hour singing bout, there were only three of us left: me, Ken and Emiko.
This was about 23.00, and I was raring to go clubbing in Fukuoka, which is a real blast at night. Unfortunately, in Japan's cash-based scene, I committed an ultimate sin - after dinner and karaoke I'd about run out of cash - only 1,000 yen left, which enough for two drinks somewhere at most, or a cab ride back to my hotel. In the end, I did neither, and walked back to my hotel via Nakasu (Fukouka's red-light district) with Ken - who, to his credit, stayed out to the bitter end, when he could have bailed earlier and caught the last train home. As it was, he stayed out and ended up having to shell out the cash to stay at a capsule hotel at the station (thanks, Ken).

So, boo-hoo, after coming all that way, I was in bed at my hotel by midnight. Very sad. But, having just about run out of cash, I had little choice...

Aikido

2006-04-20T21:34:00.000+09:00

Friday I rolled into Kumamoto station, and rode the streetcar out to Karashima, where my boy Zac lives. I was to be his guest for the weekend, staying at his apartment convenientily located just down from Shawa-dori. The weather was lousy, but Zac walked me over to Ginza-dori to get my shirt cleaned at the cleaner's he always uses, and then I saw him off to work. He works at a local snakku (see below), his shift starting at about five and going to 01.30 We had plans to meet up when he finished.

I was off to an aikido practice on the top of Nikko Hotel, taught by a good friend here in Kumamoto, Michio Yuji. Practice was sweaty but tame, and I finished off by asking Yuji to throw me about for a bit - for old times sake. He was happy to oblige.

After practice I killed time until 01.30, when I met up with Zac and we went for a tame drink at a dark but well-stocked bar called 'Pegasus'. For those in the know, the old Jail is now apparently situated in the same building. Zac had a beer and I had a gin and tonic with Angostura, and we spent some time talking with the manager, who happened to be a friend of my wife. She and one of her staff agreed to meet us later at the next bar we were off to, which turned out to be a basement hole with an entire wall lined in CDs.

The girls joined finally joined us about 03.00, and we stayed till after four, drinking and smoking and making requests from the CD collection. Zac and I finally got back to his place about five. It was a quiet start to my weekend in the city, but a nice welcome-back all the same.

Back from the City

2006-04-19T12:10:00.000+09:00

No updates over the past several days as I've been down in the city with no Internet access. Much has happened, as evidenced by my having only about twelve hours sleep since Thursday. But now that I'm back up in the hills, I've (ironically) got access again, and time to type. And good news! The weather's turned, and finally is sunny. Have a look at the shot above: yours truly standing at the Tsuboi river with Kumamoto Castle just visible in the far distance...

Some wisdom has been acquired during my sojourn. Not little of it from a bit of Shakespeare, i.e...

'Mad in pursuit and in possession so;
Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme;
A bliss in proof, and proved, a very woe,
Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream.'

'All this world well knows, yet none knows well
To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.'

Here's to going to Hell and back.

Tsukiji

2006-04-13T17:13:00.000+09:00

So I went to bed Monday night (Tues. morning) thinking, 'Stuff it: I'll sleep in tomorrow, and head to Tsukiji Wednesday, before I fly to Kumamoto.' Originally, my plan was to hit Tsukiji early Tuesday morning, breakfast there adn then haed off to the Kabuki-za for matinee performances.

Thankfully, Tuesday morning at about 05.00 my eyes snap open and aren't interested in closing again. It's then I remember, 'Damn! Wednesday Tsukiji's on holiday! I go today or never!'

So what's Tsukiji? It's arguably the largest fish market in the world, and is perhaps the best place in the world for fresh sushi - it can't get any fresher when the chef's cutting his fish that he's bought that morning at the market. And, being a fan of sushi, I'd always wanted to eat sushi there, but never made the time. After hearing, however, that within a few years the market at Tsukiji may have to move locations as its outgrowing its present grounds, I decided I'd better make it on this trip.

So I'm out on the streets by 06.00. First thing in the morning is about the only time when a Japanese city is close to quiet: the drunks have all since passed out; the nighttime workers are cleaning up and heading home; and the daytime places have yet to open. Tokyo was no exception. As I headed out that overcast morning, things were relatively quiet, and after taking the subway to Ginza, I found myself walking along Tokyo streets that were comparatively deserted.

I finally found the Tsukiji market, which at its entrance resembles the cavernous opening of a bus terminal. In I go, and enter a dark, warehouse-type world with dim lights hanging from a corrugated ceiling high above. The place is functional bedlam, with fleets of curious tricycle scooters chugging along between fishmongers and trucks. I missed the famous auctioneering of fish, but did get to see the many stalls selling an incomprarable array of fish and seafood. I even got to see the famous giant white frozen carcasses of tuna, stacked up like oversized firewood.

After slopping through the half inch of water and the-gods-know-what-else that permeates the floor all through the market, I began to feel increasingly self-conscious, as I noticed there were dozens of other white-skinned trourists like myself, gawking and getting in the way. It would be perfect place to buy one's fish first thing in the morning, but as a tourist, I soon felt out of place and went off in search of a suchi bar for breakfast.

The famous place is Daiwa Sushi, which usually has a long line in front of it, and this morning was no exception. I joined the line and pulled out my Murakami, ready to settle in for a long wait. I soon realised, however, that the majority of the people waiting were foreign tourists like myself, and good sushi or no, I decided I didn't want to eat at some place where every other tourist and his mother does, so I went off in search of a lesser-known spot.

I found one, a bar just big enough to accomodate perhaps ten diners, sat down with four others that were already there, and ordered the omakasei, or 'chef's whim'. No doubt about it, the sushi was good and fresh, and some of the best I've had, but I also realised how much the food is affected by the atmosphere. A big part of going to a proper sushi bar is the interaction betwen chef and customers, and here there was none. The chef was simply getting his orders out and chatting with his assistant. This is a real waste in such an intimate space, and made the meal little more than an exercise in getting the food down and moving on. Disappointing.

I still had about an hour to kill before the Kabuki-za box office opened, so I asked about for a barber, found one, and had a shave and hair cut (or head shave). About thirty minutes and $35 later, I walked out feeling renewed, but subsequently found out the barber had all but raped my tender cheeks, and I had a couple of bad patches of razor burn for the rest of the day. Another disappointing Tokyo experience. Boo hoo.

Snakku

2006-04-13T17:04:00.001+09:00

Ryan and I made the bad choice, however, of going back to Ueno, which, we learned, is all but dead on a drizzly Monday night. After lapping the train station a couple of times looking for something interesting, we were about to pack it in when Ryan suggested as a last ditch effort we head into a local snakku.

Now, for the uninitiated, a snakku is a nightclub (in the old sense of the word) where customers of one sex (usually male) go to pay a bunch of money to sit and drink and chat with employees of the opposite sex. That's it. Seriously. There's nothing dubious about it (except for the prices).

About the only time I got anything out of going to a snakku was the first time, when I was nineteen, didn't have a clue what kind of place I'd been taken to, and spent the whole time there waiting with trepidation for the moment when the lights would be dimmed and... you get the idea. But none of that ever happens (not at a snakku, at least). No, the most risque it gets is some flirting, a la what goes on in Canadian bars between waitresses and male clientele.

And that's the other thing about snakku: Monday was the first time in my life I'd ever been to one and paid for it. I've normally never had any interest, so have only gone when taken along by a Japanese host. I could never see the point in paying all that money to sit with some college girl who's a lousy conversationalist and have her giggle in delight at your Japanese ability when you know, ultimately, nothing'll come of it.

But away we went on Monday, and spent an hour drinking thoroughly-watered-down brandy (ends up tasting like unsweetened iced tea), smoking cigarillos and each making silly small talk to three successive girls dressed in evening gowns. Now, they were all nice enough people, but, as they would switch off girls every twenty minutes, this meant I ended up having the same conversation three times in one hour. Ugh.

Only the last girl was of any distinction, one because she had a little French instead of English, and two because she spoke with comparatively husky voice - I say comparatively as it was husky when compared with the usual high-pitched cutesy tone that passes for non-threatening and, thus, attractive to Japanese men. I'm not much for cute, so a natural voice was appealing (hey! one of the reasons I was attracted to my wife when I first met her is she speaks in a normal voice...).

Anyways, by 01.30 I was back at the hotel and bedding down, expecting to sleep in and skip Tsukiji. Little did I guess, however, what the body clock had in store for me...

Monday night

2006-04-12T05:30:00.000+09:00

Just as I was checking in, Mike 'phoned, and we made arrangements to meet for dinner in Ikebukuro after I had a quick shower and change of clothes. The restaurant he and Mayumi chose had an evocative, swanky-Japanese decore. As we sat down to eat, the whole situation seemed suddenly surreal - here I was having dinner in Tokyo with people I'd only known from Victoria, when I myself had been there only 24 hours previously.

Ryan joined us about a half hour into things. M&M unfortunately had a long train ride home, which they had to start on or they'd miss the last train and have to stay out till dawn. So it was an all-too-brief visit with them, and then Ryan and I headed out for a bit of action.

In Country

2006-04-12T05:22:00.000+09:00

Here I am. The flight over was long (surprise, surprise), but made the more so 'cause I had to sit in a window seat (which always seems more cramped). Halfway through the flight, though, I moved to an empty aisle seat in a row of four, and ended up talking for the rest of the flight to an attractive Japanese girl who was sitting in the same row. Means I didn't get any sleep, but I can think of worse ways to spend four hours.

Immigration was the usual pain to pass through at Narita: long, twisting line that took I don't how long, but by the time I got down to the luggage carousel, it seemed all the other passengers had collected their bags, but mine - as mysterious left-overs - had been segregated and were being anxiously fondled by a trio of concerned-looking staff.

Figured out the train to Ueno without mishap, and finally napped as it made the hour-long trek from the airport to where I'm staying. The grey, drab landscape - made even greyer and drabber by the rain - was certainly conducive to sleep: nobody wants to look at that at the start of a vacation.

After asking directions at Ueno station to my hotel, I made the hump with bags in tow to my lodging, which is (for Tokyo) an affordable business hotel (i.e. $100 per night for a cramped room with tiny shower) - dingy, but staffed by reasonably sharp kids.

This is it

2006-04-10T00:41:00.000+09:00

I pull out this morning to the airport for my flight to the 'Pan. I was supposed to tie up loose ends yesterday, but after spending a late night before at the Aitchisons' (thanks for a great night, guys!), I accomplished very little. What else is new.

Things here are grey, cold and rainy. Here's hoping Tokyo's better (looks crappy though, with forecast for 12 and rain).

Got a bit more sleep last night, but as Heat was on TV, not as much as I would've liked - but how could I resist staying up to watch Heat...

Last Day at Work

2006-04-08T01:35:00.000+09:00

After little sleep and resigning myself to getting only half the things done that I wanted to, I'm now packed up and ready to voyage to the mainland before catching my flight on Sunday. One last day at the office, then I'm gone for three weeks.

As I was loading the car this morning, saw neighbour woman out in the parking lot in her pink housecoat and white slippers, with a long, thin stick, stalking a brace of geese. Can't figure those people out: if you're not keen on birds, why live in a bird sanctuary? Then again, I was never 100% keen on Japan, but I lived there for five years. Maybe what I needed was a long, thin stick and pink bathrobe...

Made hotel reservations this morning. I'll be staying near Ueno. Who knows how close this is to where I want to be, but I've given up trying to figure it out. I'll just have to put Tokyo's world-famous public-transport system to the test.

As for essentials, I'm pretty good. Passport (brand new): check. Five days' clothes: check. Runners: check. Camera: check. Laptop: check. Cigarillos: check. Reading material (Murakami's Dance, Dance, Dance and Dyer's War - the latter courtesy of JP): check. Still have to get omiyage. Still have to let some people know I'm flying into town. Still have to get a decent night's sleep...

'Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on...
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again.'

Wild Geese, by Mary Oliver

Still No Closer

2006-04-07T01:11:00.000+09:00

I need to bug out of the Island tomorrow and get me to the mainland, but still have yet to pack, pay bills, send off letters, etc. This always seems to be the way: whenever I've set out on a trip to the 'Pan, I seem to be pulling an all-nighter just before I take off. One would've hoped that, at 33, I'd be better at the whole process. But, by way of excuse, the past weeks have been filled with foolishness, so I've been doing nothing that I was supposed to be doing. That should absolve me, right?

Hasn't helped that for the past three nights I wake up - ding! - at oh-dark-hundred and spend the subsequent hours before I have to get up for work just tossing and turning (well, maybe just turning), thinking, 'Hm. It would be much better if I were asleep right now...' Inability to successfully reason with oneself must be some sign of mental decline. Also means I'm fair knackered...

'Now o're the one halfe World
Nature seemes dead, and wicked Dreames abuse
The Curtain'd sleepe:'

MacB, II.1

Coming Soon

2006-04-06T01:36:00.000+09:00

Watch this page for details of my upcoming trip to the Land of the Rising Sun. Excited? Yurp.

Heading back for three weeks of R&R after a strange couple of months. Can't call the trip 'much needed', but certainly better than spending the time mooching about the provincial capital, waiting for school (ugh) to start.

Few days in Tokyo, few days in Fukuoka, and the rest in Kumamoto - my old ground for stomping in Asia. Look for arts, entertainment, debauchery and narcissism: very Biblical.

Finally, remember, sports fans, in the words of good ol' A. E. Housman...

'play the man, stand up and end you,
When your sickness is your soul.'