tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-367731202024-03-08T11:58:56.163+09:00The Hired TongueBeing a description of an English teacher's time in Japan.Joe Streckerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13848690885706346774noreply@blogger.comBlogger149125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36773120.post-14713586653753942412009-02-27T05:45:00.002+09:002009-02-27T05:48:18.111+09:00Onward!I'm not done yet!<br /><br />The Hired Tongue is finished. This was my Japan blog, and I'm not in Japan anymore. Time for something new, something that's not necessarily about where I am. I've got a new blog for my continuing adventures: <a href="http://connectedthings.blogspot.com/">http://connectedthings.blogspot.com/</a><br /><br />Check it out. The adventure doesn't end.Joe Streckerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13848690885706346774noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36773120.post-53664332217334186552009-02-18T12:46:00.003+09:002009-02-20T02:51:31.504+09:00UnhiredAs I write this, I am no longer an English teacher, no longer a Hired Tongue, no longer in Japan. I'm uhired now, cut loose to pursue other things, and presently in the familiar setting that is Portland, Oregon, U.S.A. My time in Japan ended with fireworks and music, a fitting ending.<br /><br />I met my students in front of the school, and we went off to a local restaurant where we'd reserved a huge table. We ordered various bits of food, drank, and I proceeded to get peppered with cards and gifts. One student, I noticed, had a rather awkward and bulky looking package. She opened it up, and announced that she had fireworks. She looked quite pleased with herself.<br /><br />Fireworks. Fireworks in freezing February. There was a park, she said, nearby. A suitable place to set them off, to set them all alight and aflame. All the while, one of my students was insisting that we sample different varieties of sake. Another bought me an unasked for gin and tonic. Another, a beer. We were all drunk, and I more than most, when we stumbled out of the restaurant and ambled through dark Narita to this suitable park.<br /><br />The student with the fireworks laid them all out, handed out sparklers, got the rockets ready. We held the sparklers three at a time and lit fuses with their orange and green fires, causing the sky to pop and fizzle in a way that it never does in the winter. The smell of powder in the winter, I found, was odd. It's such a summer smell, but I'd never thought about it as such before. The cold and the smell juxtaposed oddly but not unpleasantly.<br /><br />I said goodbye to my students and went home feeling wonderful and a little sad about it, and I hoped that they'd be nice to the new teacher. The next day, I woke up with a horrible hangover from all of the sake, but was fortunately able to shamble my way to Chiba where two of my good friends were going to be getting behind microphones at a local bar. It was, I think, a fitting last night. I was pleased to be there with my various teacher friends, though I drank only oolong, what with the previous night's activities and all.<br /><br />Two of my friends saw me off at the airport, and one of my students who worked there surprised me by showing up and announcing that she'd gotten me a cushy aisle seat. I really didn't want to go. Coming to Japan was the best decision that I've ever made, and I know that it's over now, but I had a lot of internal resistance going. Sure, there will be lots of things I won't miss, and there are lots of things that I do miss about Portland. But, I fell in love with Japan. I loved the landscape and the people, I loved the weirdness of it all and life as an alien. I loved the simple pleasure of reading labels in a foreign language, and the experience of life as a perpetual puzzle, challenge, and adventure. I loved what the experience of Japan and teaching did for me regarding my own confidence and sense of self. I loved being able to express myself, even badly, in Japanese, and, above all, I loved the camaraderie of the expat community. As I was moving away from all of that on the airplane, in the cushy, front-row aisle seat that my student had gotten for me, I broke down and cried. I know I'll be back someday, in some way. The place has been too good to me to leave forever.<br /><br />I'm in Portland, now, and I know already that I won't be here for long. Hopefully I passed the Foreign Service Exam, and that will pan out. If not, I may very well join the Peace Corps and get involved with international aide and politics that way. In any case, I know that I'm not settled. I'm not stationary. I've looked through my old boxes in storage and plan on selling the contents- I don't want stored objects to hold me back. I've got a bit of money saved and I know that I can save more, because I'd rather have experiences than things. Later this summer, I'm going off to Mexico just because I can.<br /><br />I thought that this would just be for a year. I thought that a single stint as a hired tongue in a foreign country would get the travel bug out of my system. Just the opposite. The world is too big not to see. Japan was a wonderful beginning.Joe Streckerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13848690885706346774noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36773120.post-14730272232368047732009-02-10T11:15:00.003+09:002009-02-10T12:06:54.640+09:00TestedI took the Foreign Service Exam yesterday. If it's graded like a university test is graded, I know I passed. If they decide to take only the top 20% or so, then I don't know if I'll go on to the next round of selection. The material was unsurprising and straightforward, I'm reasonably proud of the essays I wrote. Additionally, I couldn't help but size up my fellow test takers. While I didn't get to talk with any of them in any sort of in-depth way, it was nice to see that I wasn't out of my league at all. These were people with similar interests and temperaments to myself. If they are what the potential "best and brightest" or whatever are like, then I think I have a good chance (though not a sure chance) at being granted an interview.<br /><br />Mainly, though, it was great to finally do something that I'd been preparing for for so long, and its completion has helped me mentally sever myself from my current situation. Goals and such seem less amorphous and hypothetical, and the possibilities are moving me towards activity. As I said in my last post, it's a very nice feeling.<br /><br />I'll know if I passed in about nine weeks. In the meantime, I'll look for other options, wander about, and see what other ins and opportunities I can find that interest me.<br /><br />Despite the morbid predictions on the economy, I'm sure there's something. There always is.Joe Streckerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13848690885706346774noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36773120.post-85242092410534384942009-02-07T09:00:00.006+09:002009-02-08T13:00:04.302+09:00The Next PartAll week, I've been telling my students that I'm leaving, and I've also been telling them why. I've told them that I am indeed going back to the U.S., and hope to get a job with the Foreign Service. I've told them that I'm taking the test tomorrow, have been studying for it for months, and that I find this path a fitting one for me. I majored in political science and have always been consistently interested in politics, international relations, and world affairs.<br /><br />It's been a mixed process. My students are not happy to see me go, which is a nice ego boost. After I explained that a new teacher would be coming, one of my kids wrapped herself around my torso and said "You're teacher. I hate new teacher." I've also started getting plenty of presents and knick-knacks, which is sweet, but right now I'm trying to get rid of stuff. Best, though, was what one of my older students said to me:<br /><br />"I studied engineering at university," he said, "and now I'm an engineer. Every day, I make machines, I do what I love, and I'm happy. I understand why you're leaving." He smiled at me, said "see you next week!" and left.<br /><br />I found this very encouraging, and as I've been articulating my reasons for leaving to my students, it's put into perspective what I want to do as a more long-term career. Even if I don't get into the Foreign Service, I'm going to pursue work with other government entities or with NGOs. I am determined to become a part of that which interests me the most.<br /><br />To be sure, I can be interested in just about anything. There are few things out there that, when you really stop to appreciate them, are inherently boring. But, it is the system of human societies which I have found regularly fascinating. Since I was a kid, in fact. When I think of childhood reading material, I think of Encyclopedia Brown and Newsweek.<br /><br />All of this, really, is a relief. A relief of a jarring sort, really. When I first decided to do this, months ago, I spent a couple of hours walking around by myself in the Meiji Jingu with an "oh shit..." sort of feeling. I had decided to act in accordance with what I wanted, and found it wonderful yet disorienting. Now it's mostly settled in, and I've become much, much more calm about things in general. I'm even managing to control my stress about the upcoming exam fairly well. In fact, I'm surprised at how unpanicked I am. I think this is a good thing.<br /><br />To see one's area of passion and interest as something of value is a wonderful feeling. In 24 hours I'll be at the U.S. embassy, trying to get my foot in the door with a politically-oriented career. I've done quite well on the practice tests, and hope that my performance is competitive enough to be selected for an oral assessment. Even if it's not, though, I know what I want and where I'm going.Joe Streckerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13848690885706346774noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36773120.post-41745468385344841922009-02-06T09:02:00.008+09:002009-02-06T10:44:47.512+09:00At Yasukuni<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG9ICdIFdA56Oz6vFUSpXjAnb37ooEm-TayWlRkPNHfoJGBaLMh_MMWTt7Eslc4kPuEyWyYY8VDpGW1D723Me-SQmRJcUDgf5a3LCNQbpiK-_tTurt7opr7fGfPqb3eUFbU5cxfw/s1600-h/IMG_4201.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG9ICdIFdA56Oz6vFUSpXjAnb37ooEm-TayWlRkPNHfoJGBaLMh_MMWTt7Eslc4kPuEyWyYY8VDpGW1D723Me-SQmRJcUDgf5a3LCNQbpiK-_tTurt7opr7fGfPqb3eUFbU5cxfw/s200/IMG_4201.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299483469724544162" border="0" /></a>Last weekend, I finally made my way to the Yasukuni Shrine, the Shinto shrine dedicated to memorializing and deifying those who have died in the name of the Emperor. It was an absolutely pleasant day in Tokyo, and I met up with two of my friends for a fine day of gallivanting around town. Our first stop was Yasukuni, the most controversial place in Japan.<br /><br />The central walk of the shrine was fairly nice, a broad avenue under a pair of fairly impressive and iron torii, one of which is the largest such arch in Japan. I was surprised to see a bunch of food stalls and a flea market off to one side. I really didn't expect a ramen shop and flea market at such a place, but it lent the shrine a certain approachability I wasn't expecting. There was also an old guy playing the shamisen, lending the morning strummy soundtrack.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGPtay3Qn3vxaUwvCIMRjlvqwvvcse6uqNIIiHaPPOUzEs7MSftrWMytydt0eCb0ZhMq40VprlremRMdEx8vM0cvg2ePzWslOId3Yy7nK9WoSvHpQZnWTQLuuJsAIJsAvoSqCmdQ/s1600-h/IMG_4199.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGPtay3Qn3vxaUwvCIMRjlvqwvvcse6uqNIIiHaPPOUzEs7MSftrWMytydt0eCb0ZhMq40VprlremRMdEx8vM0cvg2ePzWslOId3Yy7nK9WoSvHpQZnWTQLuuJsAIJsAvoSqCmdQ/s320/IMG_4199.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299493269824585154" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The outside of the shrine features the oldest Western-style bronze in Japan, much to the delight of one of my friends who is something of an art geek. "Hey, never mind the politics," she said, "that's the oldest Western-style bronze in Japan!" It's quite nice seeing smart people get excited about their areas of expertise.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhenEDTk12SqrZLij6YjE5v7JSEpnB67FNx4RLnrwO8sQM_pEP2BpzgXBMQD9Hq_fjJ6PzfahhEx0vynurJ-_HQmunsHZ9fAxV4SghJi00bNMDQC9Rt7xYCvzk748apESTPdkKGmQ/s1600-h/IMG_4197.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhenEDTk12SqrZLij6YjE5v7JSEpnB67FNx4RLnrwO8sQM_pEP2BpzgXBMQD9Hq_fjJ6PzfahhEx0vynurJ-_HQmunsHZ9fAxV4SghJi00bNMDQC9Rt7xYCvzk748apESTPdkKGmQ/s320/IMG_4197.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299484003566688418" border="0" /></a><br /><br />We strolled around the central area, but refrained from directly approaching the altar. I've done so at other Shinto shrines, and have no problem with Buddhist temples, but here I felt that it would be a bit ideologically weird to go up to the main site at such a place, to become a participant rather than an observer. I left the wooden steps untrod.<br /><br />The shrine has a fair bit of statuary in it, most notably that of a kamikaze pilot. Also depicted are a military dog, horse, and a carrier pigeon. I was most fascinated, though, by this portrayal of a warship, lording itself over a stone map of Asia. It seemed imposing and, despite the shrine's reputation, brutal and artistically honest. But who knows? I couldn't read the inscription. It might be about how cuddly warships were, for all I know.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFx9W3WWZRZ32_kAbw7Zemx1A6V6KIQhINvBAtMaCWjgC3wqDSnQzd8FsbzHHghKKm1WmF9yAX1gMiASlmiwOcE4nL0a9jMNliM9D2tCN2FYCty-1LfnyuywlCGNeya5W9HcODiw/s1600-h/IMG_4208.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFx9W3WWZRZ32_kAbw7Zemx1A6V6KIQhINvBAtMaCWjgC3wqDSnQzd8FsbzHHghKKm1WmF9yAX1gMiASlmiwOcE4nL0a9jMNliM9D2tCN2FYCty-1LfnyuywlCGNeya5W9HcODiw/s320/IMG_4208.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299484463290561586" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Before going to the museum, I'd mentally prepared myself for the worst sort of revisionism so as not to turn into some rage-spouting history geek decrying the lack of truth upon my exit. I didn't get angry or have much in the way of emotional responses to much of what was in there other than a weird sort of amusement. Many of the historical lies were so downright bullshit-laden that I found them hard to take seriously. For instance, there was an item about how <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Manchukuo">Manchukuo </a>was apparently formed by five of China's northern ethnic groups coming together of their own accord to form a new nation, with the administrative help and support of Japan. Also, according to the Yasukuni museum, Korea was an independent state after the first Sino-Japanese war. I'm sure that's news to a lot of Koreans. Japan was also forced into WWII. I was expecting that bit, though.<br /><br />But I'm getting ahead of myself. The early parts of the museum were all about early Japanese warfare- samurai and such. I and my companion spent a fair amount of time looking at the various swords, naginatas, old style guns, and other sundry implements of destruction. It was a fairly kickass panoply of lethal shit, to be perfectly honest. "Hell yeah!" said a certain part of my brain, "motherfuckin' GUNS 'N SWORDS! Rock!"<br /><br />The various labels and whatnot all extolled how glorious it was to die in battle for the Emperor and such, with various poetical odes to mortal selflessness and anologies of slain warriors falling like a thousand sakura petals. It reminded me a lot of <span style="font-style: italic;">300</span>, to be honest. Sure, it was a bit more subtle (and a lot less homoerotic) than that movie, but it had the same general ethos: "Isn't this all great and glorious? Isn't it great to utterly abandon yourself and give yourself over to death and battle and blood? Doesn't it sound absolutely glorious to go and kill a bunch of dudes and then eventually get killed by some other dude? Awesome, Right? SPAAAARTAaaa... I mean... JAAAAPAAAN!"<br /><br />Basically it was kitschy death porn, and I'm sure it would have given Yukio Mishima a raging erection. This sort of militaristic ideology is indeed dangerous and in reality does inspire people blow themselves up on a fairly regular basis, but in sunny Tokyo I found it hard accept as very real. I had much the same attitude through the more contemporary exhibits. "Does anyone," I thought to myself, "actually take this stuff seriously?" I knew the answer was yes, but I wondered anyways.<br /><br />To be fair, not all of the exhibits were <span style="font-style: italic;">complete </span>bollocks. There war just a significant percentage of bollocks. The museum's biggest flaw was that it often said that certain things happened, but didn't say why. Many of the timelines and displays made mention of the movements of Japanese troops and ships in various parts of Asia, but it didn't say what, for instance, the Japanese military was doing in the Philippines. (Answer: Invading and setting up a puppet government.) It just mentioned that they were there. There was a lot of facts, but a dearth of analysis.<br /><br />This happens in the U.S. too, though. I recognized a lot of the sins commited by textbooks and national monuments as described by James Lowen in <span style="font-style: italic;">Lies My Teacher Told Me</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">Lies Across America</span>. A lot of it was the same sort of revision and omission that one can find in the good 'ol U.S. of A. I'm pissed off by such behavior in the U.S., and pissed off by it in Japan as well, but such symmetry engenders a kind of understanding.<br /><br />The last part of the museum was a fairly impressive display of military hardware, which, again, tapped into that part of my brain that actually likes looking at guns 'n swords. It was diverting enough.<br /><br />Japan has every right to memorialize it's war dead, and private organizations, such as the Shinto group that runs the Yasukuni shrine, have every right to practice their religion. As a foreigner and one who has not extensively studied this matter, I'm not in an expert position to offer recommendations. But, here's my unsoliscited advice.<br /><br />-The most obvious objection is the inclusion of 14 class A war criminals in in shrine's register of names. The people memorialized in the shrine are considered not only fallen, but deities of a sort. A good solution would be to simply strike the name of the 14 offenders.<br /><br />-Likewise, there are several people, particularly those of Korean descent, whose relatives object to their inclusion. Inclusion in the Shrine should be with the consent of the family of the deceased. That way, it would be a voluntary honor, rather than something foisted upon people who have ideological issues with the place. An option for de-listing should also be included.<br /><br />-Yasukuni specifically enshrines those who have died in the name of the Emperor. Since WWII, several members of Japan's Self Defense Forces have died in international conflicts, and they are not included in the Shrine. If Yasukuni were to change it's criteria from those who died for the Emperor to those who died for the people and nation of Japan, contemporary members of the armed forces could also be honored, thus secularizing and modernizing the place.<br /><br />-Lastly, at a certain point China and Korea really ought to stop complaining. Yes, Japan did absolutely horrific things to them, but that was a generation ago. Nearly all of those people are dead, and arguing over who did what to whose parents and grandparents is something of a childish exercise. Of course Japan should apologize, but as wronged parties China and Korea can't just bring up wartime atrocities whenever it's convenient. Such complaining does not effective diplomatic relations make.<br /><br />Not that any of those are realistic. More realistically, the veterans and their children will someday all be dead, and hopefully it will all be an unemotional historical abstraction.<br /><br />Yasukuni did not offend me, nor did it make me angry. I don't think it's a symbol of hate or aggression. More than that, I think its inaccuracies represent a certain immature desire to believe that our forbears were better than they really were. Columbus was a geographically incorrect murdering jackass and the U.S. committed genocide on the native population, yet we still have a national holiday commemorating those three ships landing on Hispanola and romaticize western expansion. There is a compulsion to apologize, to pretend that there was neither sin nor unwarranted blood. Such historical revisions can't, to borrow a phrase, handle the truth. They suffer a poverty of ideas because they feel people can only be inspired by a sanitized version of history, even though the flawed and tragic truth is often more fascinating.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu0JA2-NaMS_I-LY82f46k4lNcXy5LWbVd4PFYmA6GzQI7w6r9xSHQ6lp_HyuFTWLPgfGbr04iun1K0knqFFmotUI34a0vFxfmAOt1LQ-ynzX4B8kkFgiaCJYSCydh8JXUMN_svA/s1600-h/IMG_4211.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu0JA2-NaMS_I-LY82f46k4lNcXy5LWbVd4PFYmA6GzQI7w6r9xSHQ6lp_HyuFTWLPgfGbr04iun1K0knqFFmotUI34a0vFxfmAOt1LQ-ynzX4B8kkFgiaCJYSCydh8JXUMN_svA/s320/IMG_4211.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299492475040205378" border="0" /></a>Joe Streckerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13848690885706346774noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36773120.post-86095953576785187792009-01-28T23:06:00.004+09:002009-02-04T23:19:33.288+09:00Things I'll Miss, Part Two<span>A few more parts of the landscape that I'll miss...</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />The Metric System<br /></span><span>The metric system wonderfully intuitive, and it's absolutely ridiculous that the U.S. doesn't use it. Here in Japan, I've gotten used to thinking in terms of centimeters, kilograms, kilometers and the rest, and have found it all far more understandable than the imperial system. I really couldn't tell you how many feet there are in a mile, for instance. But, I know how many meters there are in a kilometer and grams in a kilogram- 1,000, easy as that. It's great! The metric system</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span><span>an intuitive, user-friendly and global set of standards, and the U.S. would do well to abandon it's clunky and ill-conceived proprietary set. I'll miss you, metric system. Maybe one day you can come to America.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">The View From My School</span><br /><br />From my classroom, I can see Narita-San temple, Mt. Tskuba, a constant stream of airplanes, and lots of trees. The school is on the sixth floor of an office building, and from the balcony one can see Mt. Fuji on a clear day. What's more, it's a westward view of Fuji, so the sun sets nicely behind it. No, I don't have a picture. Just trust me that it's awesome.<br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Clubbing</span><br /><br />Yes, there is clubbing all over the world, I know, and occasionally clubbing just hasn't worked for me. But all in all, I enjoy getting assaulted by the blaring rhythms and beats, feeling my sternum vibrated by the sound system, navigating amongst the milling crowds. At clubs, I've mostly considered myself an observer- I'm still not "good at" clubbing. Apparently one can meet people at these places, but I don't really know how you'd do that if the music's too loud for conversation.<br /><br />I suppose what I'll miss, though, is how clubbing facilitates unselfconscious revelry. There is no form or steps to the dancing- one simply moves how one pleases, often while drunk. I appreciate the otherworldliness of it all, the feeling that one is in some sort of suspended place, and techno often brings with it a kind of looping mindlessness that I've come to appreciate. A well places sample or hook coupled with the freedom to jump around as one pleases lends itself to a certain abandon. I know that that much can be said of a lot of music, yes, but I won't forget Tokyo's immense, dark, smoky chambers.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Tokyo Skyline</span><br /><br />I'm from Oregon and a nature lover since childhood. I love trees, mountains, and all of that wonderful green stuff. My own hometown, Portland, is dotted with greenery in a lovely way, and I love it for that. However, there's something undeniably sexy about the busy, neon-lined machine city that is Tokyo.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9K6pMGFWbPjkjbedIzTlI7chmbptPBs7KcZu_tL1FjDBTDxyeObPXkpMnCzB0d11h427dv9wYAO3MG0iVVi_ZYQPjJCtZuWKvFXawA7L_5cPxX-mZQ3ItByGnZXff3_cZIcujwA/s1600-h/IMG_4081.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9K6pMGFWbPjkjbedIzTlI7chmbptPBs7KcZu_tL1FjDBTDxyeObPXkpMnCzB0d11h427dv9wYAO3MG0iVVi_ZYQPjJCtZuWKvFXawA7L_5cPxX-mZQ3ItByGnZXff3_cZIcujwA/s320/IMG_4081.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296153314987602898" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I can understand how it could be stressful, or someone's idea of an urban hell. I can see how it could overload the senses or tire people out, and if I had to live downtown during the work week, maybe it would exhaust me as well. But I love how inexhaustible it feels, how in the innards of Tokyo there doesn't seem to be an end to the wonders of civilization and technology, and it all makes me wonder what comes next in terms of technology and civilization.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYsq98mFq1Nc7Xt6V7gtgHukVNPsZn7TKiJLsj2ozz1LXWnpgIkVIVZpIhfhjPsyI93ap1GK8_uaAPxf-RN6cjCWv-VQJ2aXtdUvIpxLo5KZTYft69b3Liu4p2K7x68uTSF6yf_Q/s1600-h/IMG_4107.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYsq98mFq1Nc7Xt6V7gtgHukVNPsZn7TKiJLsj2ozz1LXWnpgIkVIVZpIhfhjPsyI93ap1GK8_uaAPxf-RN6cjCWv-VQJ2aXtdUvIpxLo5KZTYft69b3Liu4p2K7x68uTSF6yf_Q/s320/IMG_4107.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296153727791823218" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Among the crowds, even when walking alone, you feel part of something, part of something that's much larger than yourself. It's as if you're standing on some sort of hub or axis and watching the world's gears click and spin around you in a colorful panoply.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0Usj5juwZTzAbC7OetrMZRO5NDqWNO-E5cH7ltASn10Bv1Cdr0BpCve7oZo6rfDvhCwKzWeBRrVoCBGuBbrL9fO2ogdQisJee9dQwepn2SJQHdgF-R4qk2x-G7TtH0LRin_qSOw/s1600-h/IMG_4183.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0Usj5juwZTzAbC7OetrMZRO5NDqWNO-E5cH7ltASn10Bv1Cdr0BpCve7oZo6rfDvhCwKzWeBRrVoCBGuBbrL9fO2ogdQisJee9dQwepn2SJQHdgF-R4qk2x-G7TtH0LRin_qSOw/s320/IMG_4183.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296155189753233394" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I don't want to romanticize it too much, the crushing crowds and the noise. The movement and the light make it a place without peace. The sensory saturation of it all, though, is a certain kind of wonderful. In Tokyo, your eyes wander over more objects than you could hope to contemplate and more people with whom you could ever hope to talk with. The world magnifies itself in unquiet motion, and stretches in all directions.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRdZw7PTg8BVZROd6m5NKXzs6shjRr9b814iXGB53PEXI5DEN6wTpIuOYGssrZonFzcTwCwTPb4dL3yzXF5igwAaVciueokl8LVoYw-qhBV-bCHavy4paQkk97p3Ga81DHqVEBGw/s1600-h/IMG_4129.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRdZw7PTg8BVZROd6m5NKXzs6shjRr9b814iXGB53PEXI5DEN6wTpIuOYGssrZonFzcTwCwTPb4dL3yzXF5igwAaVciueokl8LVoYw-qhBV-bCHavy4paQkk97p3Ga81DHqVEBGw/s320/IMG_4129.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296154153625137330" border="0" /></a>Joe Streckerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13848690885706346774noreply@blogger.com183tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36773120.post-1674894335789508952009-01-28T10:26:00.013+09:002009-01-28T23:25:40.112+09:00Things I'll Miss, Part OneAfter that little bit snarkiness, a few things I'll miss about Japan. Not big things like my students or friends, but little things about the landscape itself.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Temples and Shrines</span><br /><br />Sure, a lot of them look alike. But I like them anyways, especially my local, massive Narita-san. It's nice to see these buildings which are characteristically Japanese nestled amongst all the modernity, reminders that modernization need not mean complete westernization. Here, temple attendees read New Year's fortunes in Asakusa.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKZE6ommt4w0LA40q5Y2vZkghKwAJexfvIDQ7z9Rf0G6gGtVXtF3av-wv3YGNrXW0XqKqtaTSVlgYZ3rxA0Br1HhUhkIq8Hy6Mba2TLpmWRkx6lexnNGm61vyoyHT1au15L-4XmA/s1600-h/IMG_4161.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKZE6ommt4w0LA40q5Y2vZkghKwAJexfvIDQ7z9Rf0G6gGtVXtF3av-wv3YGNrXW0XqKqtaTSVlgYZ3rxA0Br1HhUhkIq8Hy6Mba2TLpmWRkx6lexnNGm61vyoyHT1au15L-4XmA/s320/IMG_4161.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296154622097035698" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Trains</span><br /><br />Japanese trains are wonderful. I wish I could uproot the train system here and take it back with me to the States. With them, one can go most anywhere rather rapidly and affordably, and I've hardly missed having a car.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Kaiten Sushi</span><br /><br />Proper sushi bars, the kind where you sit at a table and order items individually, are fairly expensive. While in Japan, though, I've been to such a place all of one time. I'd rather go to kaiten sushi, the restaurants where cheap sushi revolves around the counter on a conveyor belt, with the chefs often standing in the middle of it. At their best, these places are crowded and raucous, with customers yelling orders at the chefs, and the chefs yelling right back. There's the constant sound of clinking plates and chatter, and the whole place is infused with the distinctive smell of fresh fish. I usually have to limit myself to about seven plates or so, otherwise I think I could devour the contents of the conveyor belt.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Tone and Edo Rivers</span><br /><br />These two rivers have awesome bike paths, and I've quite enjoyed riding along them. The Tone is near my apartment, and it's wind-buffeted bike path is part of my regular cycling loop. The Edo stretches into Tokyo from the suburbs, and down into the Southern coast of the metropolis. I've zoned out on my bike quite a bit on these waterways, and will miss my river-lined cycling sessions.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Yoyogi Park</span><br /><br />I've mentioned this place before, I know, but ever since my first day in Tokyo Yoyogi has consistently been my favorite place in Tokyo. On Sundays, all manner of people come out to play. The place is filled with drummers, dancers, jugglers, and, of course, the Elvis-like Tokyo Rockabilly Club.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRNyzxPNNYGaY6W4TBZRMQ8yjrKgDuGzafC5IZZ07vt9KpU9iTo4fMLU3GooPtB7ezaEUCjouSahEWf1-XfJRWSTDgizIntRklYQvM1xnAhFZAYmUQyoTrZiOhAId6N13LFUF2pA/s1600-h/IMG_4053.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRNyzxPNNYGaY6W4TBZRMQ8yjrKgDuGzafC5IZZ07vt9KpU9iTo4fMLU3GooPtB7ezaEUCjouSahEWf1-XfJRWSTDgizIntRklYQvM1xnAhFZAYmUQyoTrZiOhAId6N13LFUF2pA/s320/IMG_4053.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296152085401714722" border="0" /></a><br /><br />It's been cold lately, but on warmer days Yoyogi Sundays are virtual outdoor concerts. All manner of bands and musicians are out there, playing for whoever passes by. Here, a solitary trumpeter braves the cold.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8L40udPdqItRIGKwYz8uiHuChUMmzsyLMsW06XZMPDZboTlmBvscjZK9k8W8YKYNOVJqh8h_3uLthp8nLGikqf9dqSO_jeBzqM5EXk50EyeZpBZYC2YzvWCWTQVGceq9YShwkjg/s1600-h/IMG_4040.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8L40udPdqItRIGKwYz8uiHuChUMmzsyLMsW06XZMPDZboTlmBvscjZK9k8W8YKYNOVJqh8h_3uLthp8nLGikqf9dqSO_jeBzqM5EXk50EyeZpBZYC2YzvWCWTQVGceq9YShwkjg/s320/IMG_4040.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296151093555867554" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The flea market is considerable. Here in Japan I've tried to limit my intake of stuff, given that I'll just have to move it or get rid of it later. Back in the States, though, I would have had a field day with all of the LPs and vintage jackets for sale.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipacHF4AXBxtr_ifjJVLA9HQb5uD7E1PUFfuXsYWWnQYoCiSvM8c7QiO49DP-QQMas7-kvu8rPuCpqGXVjXONZzKNCH5qK-JQDwGkTOsjOzKROK2tb6ldQb_V3B1LwUv8gFz63hw/s1600-h/IMG_4047.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipacHF4AXBxtr_ifjJVLA9HQb5uD7E1PUFfuXsYWWnQYoCiSvM8c7QiO49DP-QQMas7-kvu8rPuCpqGXVjXONZzKNCH5qK-JQDwGkTOsjOzKROK2tb6ldQb_V3B1LwUv8gFz63hw/s320/IMG_4047.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296151557569065554" border="0" /></a><br /><br />And of course, there are the goths and weirdly-attired youth. Once, I was having a class with an older student, and the topic in the textbook was clothes and appearance. The Harajuku/Yoyogi goths ended up coming up in class. My student said "I think they look stupid, but that's okay. They remind us that we are free."<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9fyKWUps3toZYXkOwMUyk4YfkpqW965vcqFy8tt-roAvaPr3qfNQtW1XJGfwr7BYkMk3ueT-te20URyy9QgXQgNrAE9aOPGJn-4n_bVTp3R1K3G5dPY4kCG2IEsyua0h4IeA_ew/s1600-h/IMG_4056.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9fyKWUps3toZYXkOwMUyk4YfkpqW965vcqFy8tt-roAvaPr3qfNQtW1XJGfwr7BYkMk3ueT-te20URyy9QgXQgNrAE9aOPGJn-4n_bVTp3R1K3G5dPY4kCG2IEsyua0h4IeA_ew/s320/IMG_4056.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296152613884951394" border="0" /></a>Joe Streckerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13848690885706346774noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36773120.post-87955884763862182582009-01-22T11:09:00.002+09:002009-01-22T12:15:01.659+09:00Things I Won't MissOne thing that I've tried to avoid doing on this blog is bitching about Japan. I'm sure I've done it a bit, but foreigners who constantly complain about this place annoy the shit out of me. There are lots of them, and they pop up all the time in bars and gatherings where a significant percentage of expats gather, and I usually want to say "Look, no one forced you to come here. If you don't like it, leave. The airport's over there."<br /><br />But anything you love- any friend, lover, family member, place, or institution, will have a few qualities that drive you up the wall. Nothing is flawless or aggravation free. Here are a few hopelessly irritating things about this place that I love:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">"Nihongo jozu!"</span><br /><br />In almost any situation where I'm speaking even a little Japanese to someone, there is a high probability that someone will say "Nihongo jozu!" meaning that "Your Japanese is very good!" I've gotten this after all I said was "konichiwa." That's how reflexive it sometimes is. I understand that some people may just be trying to be nice, or don't know what else to say, but I really don't like being patronized, having my ass kissed, or recieving insincere compliments. It's embarassing for all parties involved.<br /><br />I often just say "Nihongo jozu!" right back.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">ATMs That Close</span><br /><br />ATMs usually close at night and on holidays. Over New Year's, they were closed for four days straight and the one nearest my apartment is closed on Sunday. This is especially annoying in a cash-based society like Japan. Why do the ATMs close? Why? They're machines. The whole point of machines is that they mindlessly and tirelessly slave away for us humans. Why on earth do they need time off?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">"Maybe."</span><br /><br />In Japanese society, "maybe" often means "no." It also means "maybe." I've gotten used to it, but still prefer blunt answers.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Talking Machines</span><br /><br />I don't need vending machines to say "thank you." I also don't need the escalator to tell me to hold onto the handrail because it's dangerous. A simple sign will do, thank you very much.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Overpackaging and Overbagging</span><br /><br />I'm sure America is guilty of this too, but it seems that convenince stores and supermarkets use way, way too much plastic to package and bag stuff. The toothpaste and onigiri can go in the same bag- that's fine. They don't need to be separate.<br /><br />Come to think of it, it is always plastic. Where are the more eco-friendly, biodegrable, recycleable paper bags? What's up with that?<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />"That's Dangerous!"<br /><br /></span>Japan is very nice, safe comfortable country. Which means that, by comparison, the rest of the world seems dangerous and scary to lots of the people here who haven't been abroad much. I get a little irked when I hear America (or anywhere else) described as "dangerous." Billions of people live abroad, and every day billions of them manage to not die.<br /><br />To be fair, though, I do have some pretty badass, world-wise, globe-trotting students, and I suppose there are naive homebodies in every country.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Lack of Dark Beer</span><br /><br />This is the second largest economy on earth with an enormous population, yet somehow porters and stouts haven't caught on. I don't have anything against Asahi or Ebisu, they're great. I'd just like a bit more variety. I guess I've been spoiled by Oregon's myriad microbrews.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">"Do you like Japanese girls?"</span><br /><br />This is one of the most asked questions that I get when meeting new people, a bit after "Where are you from?" and "How long have you been in Japan?" I know that the guys who ask me this are just trying to socialize and find common ground, but when I first got here I heard the question as "Are you one of those Orientalist perverts who irrationally fetishizes Asian women?" I know, I know. I overanalyze this stuff way, way too much. Now I'm just sick of the question. Especially because the answer is mostly "No."<br /><br />And the thing that I'll miss the least:<br /><br /> <span style="font-weight: bold;">Naive Assesments of Japanese Uniqueness, Specialness and Isolation</span><br /><br />Lots of people here, both foreign and Japanese, have this image of Japan being this unique, special, magical place. It's an amazing place, yes. But so are many places. Japan is one nation among many, one culture among many, and there are many things that it does well and many things it does poorly. In many of the conversations that I've had, Japan's supposed "isolation" is often cited as a factor in this. But, it is not a utopia, nor is it cut off from the world at large. There is a huge, messy, international and intercultural system out there. Japan is a node on the network, a participant of the system, as vibrant and flawed as any other.Joe Streckerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13848690885706346774noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36773120.post-51459025226656531662009-01-20T23:11:00.002+09:002009-01-21T00:02:25.980+09:00In Which I Learn to SnowboardI'd never snowboarded before last weekend. Never skied, either. Despite being from Portland and within driving distance from Mt. Hood, I'd never once strapped things to my feet and slid down a mountain. I'd simply never had the money to do so.<br /><br />On Sunday, though, I found myself in Nagano with a bunch of students and a coworker, surrounded by awesome looking snow, and with a board strapped to my feet. I tried not to go in with very many expectations. To be honest, I didn't really think that I was going to be able to do it. One of my more annoying demons is that I persistently underestimate my physical self. I often think of my body as a carrying case for my brain, and an awkward one at that. (This is all despite the fact that I actually enjoy a number of sports and exercise on a regular basis.) Snowboarding, I thought, is something that athletically able sexy people do. Not me.<br /><br />Anyway, I often have to put a fair amount of concious effort into kicking my bullshit hangups in the teeth, and was able to do precisely that while I was attempting to stand up on the damn board. When I first strapped it on to my feet, I couldn't stand up at all. I fell onto my ass multiple times, and heard the annoying voice of personally produced bullshit ringing in my brain, telling me that I didn't have the innate ability or the prerequisite physical training to do it. I told the voice to go fuck a weasle, and kept trying, bucking my body forward and then attempting to balance on the top of the board. Besides, I was with students. There was no way I was going to crap out on anything in front of my students.<br /><br />I got it eventually. I fell on my ass a bunch more, but I was able to stand up without too much of a problem. I was also able to slide about on a small slope, and when I got the hang of the basics of control I climbed onto the lift.<br /><br />The lift was quite a show in and of itself. Nagano was white and tree-studded all around. The slopes were abuzz with sliders and I wafted quietly above them. When I got to the top, I slid down, fell, slid down, fell, slid some more, fell, and eventually slid for a long stretch where I felt, for the first time that day, speed and adrenaline. I felt the pleasure of a newly acquired skill, the excitement of it, and understood why the sport was popular in that instant. I fell again soon, but laughed and smiled after my back hit the snow.<br /><br />I loved it. I loved it even though my skill was incomplete. I went down the same run a few times, and a larger one as well. I slid and tried to turn, I feel again and again and got sore because of it. I got snow in my gloves and my goggles fogged, I marvelled at Nagano's snowy awesomeness from the lift and tried different ways to shift my weight and change direction. I enjoyed futzing with and experimenting with my weight and the board, even though most of my attempts ended with me on my back. It was great, and I'll gladly go again.<br /><br />I also had a great time with the students. I've too often seen them simply through an academic lens, and it was fun to do something that had nothingwhatsoever to do with English learning. They were as green as me, though, and we had a great time falling about on our asses together. By the end of the day we were a tired and bedraggled lot, but happy for it. In a bar back in Tokyo we got to talking about how I'm leaving, and my last day at work is Feb. 14th.<br /><br />"What will you do," said one, "if we give you chocolates on Valentine's Day?"<br /><br />I smiled. "I'll eat the chocolates," I said. They laughed at my mock callousness.<br /><br />She punched me in the arm like my little sister sometimes does. "No," she said, "you'll stay! If we give you chocolates, that means you have to stay!" I was touched. The whole group of us got on a train back to Narita, and exhausted we fell asleep in our seats.Joe Streckerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13848690885706346774noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36773120.post-49855053157175821822009-01-12T23:51:00.004+09:002009-01-15T10:38:20.501+09:00In Which I Drink Overpriced Coffee in a Pink and White RoomIf you walk around Akihabara for long enough, eventually a girl in a maid costume will try to hand you a pamphlet. It's a pamphlet all about her place of work: a maid cafe, an establishment in which girls in ornate pseudo-French maid costumes will serve you overpriced coffee and sweets for about an hour.<br /><br />Until this weeken, I'd never been to one of these places, but two of my old friends from Okayama were in town. Somehow when making the itinerary for today the idea of going to a maid cafe in Akihabara came up and stuck. I'll admit, I was curious. These things are something of a phenomenon, I wanted to see what all the hubbub was about. One of my coworkers went to one earlier in the week, and described it in positive terms.<br /><br />So, we go into the place, and the decor is dominated by pink and white. I was pleased that the first thing that we got when we entered was a list of rules, printed in Japanese and English, not to be lecherous dicks while on the premises. That's good. Lecherous dickery is bad for the world, and I was happy to see that the customers were asked to touch with their eyes, not with their hands. Again , I looked around. The place was pink. Pink with shots of milky, unthreatening white. Soft and harmless like a marshmallow peep.<br /><br />The maids themselves were all done up in piles of ruffles and lacy things, with various geeky flourishes thrown in. The one that served us had a fox tail sticking out the back of her skirt, and several others had plastic charms and bits of flair hanging from their uniforms. To be honest, a lot of them looked like they'd put a lot of effort into personalizing their costumes, which is cool, but they looked far too harmless and fluffy to be called attractive or interesting. I suppose that's all relative, though.<br /><br />What I thought was kind of funny, was that this fluffy, cute place was in Akihabara, a place redolent of bizarre pornography and stale testosterone. A very solid majority of the customers and denizens of the place are male, and are very obviously the target demographic of maid cafes. Yet the inside of such a place (at least the one that we were in) looks like some sort of adorable Disney pink-princess room. It's all about cuteness, pinkness, ruffles, hearts, and bunnies. When I think of places designed with guys in mind, I think of pool tables, strippers, and beer. Not hearts and bunnies. Hearts and bunnies are for nine year old girls who think that "princess" is a valid career choice.<br /><br />But apparently for quite a lot of guys hearts and bunnies scratches some kind of itch. I'm not saying this is a bad thing, I'm just saying it's not my cup of tea. I sort of wondered what my reaction was supposed to be. Was I supposed to be getting off on it, was I supposed to find it amusing in a novel or ironic way? Was I just supposed to sit there and drink coffee like it was a normal cafe, except more expensive and with a cover? I didn't really know what an appropriate social reaction would be, so I just chatted with my friends and ate an ice cream sundae shaped like a rabbit that had little hearts drawn on it.<br /><br />Eventually, one of my friends (a married woman, funnily enough) told me. "It's okay to stare. You can stare. That's why we're here." I feel sort of bad staring at people though. I mean, really. You're just staring at them. You're just watching them do stuff. That's really weird. At least with, say, strippers you're watching them dance. You're appreciating something that's halfway aesthetic. There's music and performance and that's socially acceptable to look at, even if the performer is only wearing a soon-to-be-slid-down thong. But staring at people serving coffee and working in a cafe just seems kinda pervy.<br /><br />It didn't help that most of these girls looked like they were about sixteen or so. I'm sure they were probably older than that, but still, it was weird. Really, I think that's the crux of it. I can't really see girls who look like that as anything other than overgrown kids. I guess all of my teacherly/fatherly instincts are in place- when I see girls like that, I don't want to stare at them, ogle them, or leer at them. I want to teach them how to write a five paragraph essay and use Mace. You know, the normal sort of stuff adult males do with young women.<br /><br />Again, I want to emphasize that I'm not condemning any of this. Japan has a right to it's maid cafes, and people just like what they like. It's cool. The general populace of Akihabara enjoy different things than me, and that's perfectly alright. <span style="font-style: italic;">Viva la difference</span> and yay pluralism and whatever. But, it's not for me. I like women, not girls.<br /><br />As we were leaving, we noticed that in the same building there was yet another maid cafe in the same building. This one, though, advertised ear cleaning. Oh, Akihabara...Joe Streckerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13848690885706346774noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36773120.post-48060188602837707532009-01-12T00:12:00.010+09:002009-01-12T00:44:10.924+09:00Ice, Ice, MeijiEarlier today I went strolling through a display of ice sculptures in Tokyo's Meiji shrine. It was crowded and highly neat. A few pictures:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAUaVOuA6KQXkCceU_6pOLlsFqOGEu2Jq_WzXR6otP6UEIewMZDJS2sTf-3STAr4-rH0aeO-m53G3mWH-V3G4WqzdjMlDXv3zpFNRiMa0MW4KilXdaHr8oTeeOniT3_UbquwQytQ/s1600-h/IMG_3981.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAUaVOuA6KQXkCceU_6pOLlsFqOGEu2Jq_WzXR6otP6UEIewMZDJS2sTf-3STAr4-rH0aeO-m53G3mWH-V3G4WqzdjMlDXv3zpFNRiMa0MW4KilXdaHr8oTeeOniT3_UbquwQytQ/s320/IMG_3981.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290056510531740402" border="0" /></a><br />Several of the statues had limbs and bits falling and melting off. It was cold, certainly, but still above freezing. This lady here is just one arm and a head away from becoming a Samothrace. Well, almost. Maybe she could be a Samothrace groupie or something.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOaNDdX9C8FsEX-wXNSWnwXIONn5Cn11eI6Zpfxh9aoASxTys8MfMWdnmdNlJ7ksGzQzO95nHtuvasmyrguSr4tW2nrUd59AhZl0O9wyiHVk_TJae5X-2PnHbUP9j2zZwSa5RTwA/s1600-h/IMG_3991.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOaNDdX9C8FsEX-wXNSWnwXIONn5Cn11eI6Zpfxh9aoASxTys8MfMWdnmdNlJ7ksGzQzO95nHtuvasmyrguSr4tW2nrUd59AhZl0O9wyiHVk_TJae5X-2PnHbUP9j2zZwSa5RTwA/s320/IMG_3991.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290056785935364306" border="0" /></a><br />This is a dragon. Dragons are fucking awesome. This dragon has three heads, and therefore rocks all the harder.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMoHb41FSCmZL_GOqVMscA1KKjVGfLHfp56p30YUShMRFbaxMFj7XfnC0MB4KgiPfO0moxUNCRtmBwb2HtvBxewhJYaqbJpxEVUM43ZpYS9bHk0rU0PdaN_KaHHxq2ec_7NsOmqQ/s1600-h/IMG_3978.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMoHb41FSCmZL_GOqVMscA1KKjVGfLHfp56p30YUShMRFbaxMFj7XfnC0MB4KgiPfO0moxUNCRtmBwb2HtvBxewhJYaqbJpxEVUM43ZpYS9bHk0rU0PdaN_KaHHxq2ec_7NsOmqQ/s320/IMG_3978.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290056362425087010" border="0" /></a><br />This is Thunder Chicken. He is swathed in majestic sunlight.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipc2iip0lQUCkn9f78_1xj9JOcggC66Hg5G6j9AskVG0zePnjX0vEZFIzD9OmiCuiOYJb431pwvlRCKrBLRnWple4u0yzLM-us_gjSYD4jRR3vFHmkAxrb4NlQASeM9xd9XtGvdA/s1600-h/IMG_4010.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipc2iip0lQUCkn9f78_1xj9JOcggC66Hg5G6j9AskVG0zePnjX0vEZFIzD9OmiCuiOYJb431pwvlRCKrBLRnWple4u0yzLM-us_gjSYD4jRR3vFHmkAxrb4NlQASeM9xd9XtGvdA/s320/IMG_4010.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290055667000419346" border="0" /></a><br />There seemed to be a an overabundance of birds in the shrine. Birds and wings. About every third figure was either a bird or some kind of naked lady with wings. Now, I like both birds and naked ladies with wings, and I didn't really notice at the time. But going through the pictures I couldn't help but think "Damn, that place had a shitload of things winged."<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg35QHpDruwQYu6vWbVOByXpAiXpbaMMK_U1avQNqIuolPpOx-IJ3HOY6xAClV_br8pc9rcm78HH7kSgjCoqcZXAX02iWClLDLNjM9xprkDOPaYGQrbaDBrE2wH2lLuqgJc2orF4A/s1600-h/IMG_3993.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg35QHpDruwQYu6vWbVOByXpAiXpbaMMK_U1avQNqIuolPpOx-IJ3HOY6xAClV_br8pc9rcm78HH7kSgjCoqcZXAX02iWClLDLNjM9xprkDOPaYGQrbaDBrE2wH2lLuqgJc2orF4A/s320/IMG_3993.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290055055842580994" border="0" /></a><br />See! Look! It's another bird! The place is a veritable frozen avian convention.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2mBDxOocB4lFhoiDz8yoGtDtp_q_HE_Mmi0dwhJWVsrhCOgUhPGDAJlJZvuH07jrltz0WGqkA7ttGGquxthFq9IeJ_mB6-fMbTKiE2lX0op0Tv2Ycc94dlK3PQlj9i8hhBpvUqg/s1600-h/IMG_4001.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2mBDxOocB4lFhoiDz8yoGtDtp_q_HE_Mmi0dwhJWVsrhCOgUhPGDAJlJZvuH07jrltz0WGqkA7ttGGquxthFq9IeJ_mB6-fMbTKiE2lX0op0Tv2Ycc94dlK3PQlj9i8hhBpvUqg/s320/IMG_4001.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290060384671443154" border="0" /></a><br />"I'm melting! I'm melting!"<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi21qcVBx8l8kHZJ9FGCijuIYGiapfoyiSvi7UIwtfOpgd9Sk9cM3ntZnBcvNrYDmrnrC_pPZqq_vIu52JsXOg0IX4_KiZL38UgQqrKw7Up69v1szQlojgiIyA2cwXuE_-8Bcq7SA/s1600-h/IMG_3986.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi21qcVBx8l8kHZJ9FGCijuIYGiapfoyiSvi7UIwtfOpgd9Sk9cM3ntZnBcvNrYDmrnrC_pPZqq_vIu52JsXOg0IX4_KiZL38UgQqrKw7Up69v1szQlojgiIyA2cwXuE_-8Bcq7SA/s320/IMG_3986.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290061619381420770" border="0" /></a><br />I like the sunlight on this one. That is all.Joe Streckerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13848690885706346774noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36773120.post-36126082679859298552009-01-09T23:47:00.002+09:002009-01-09T23:49:32.070+09:00A Small Bit of Self-PromotionI've started another blog, one that has nothing to do with Japan. It's in its infancy and I don't know what will come of it, <a href="http://stuffthatworksforme.blogspot.com/">but you should definitely check it out</a>.Joe Streckerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13848690885706346774noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36773120.post-9555357339600554292009-01-07T09:45:00.003+09:002009-01-07T10:02:12.526+09:00"You said it, Chewie."<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPrx7b0GppF7eG02WitChAHEM03ZEhn8seZwtuWqULs1hFjxsfcAxGrNR1ZG-rpWzKXfZMbKY8xEav5Ms4mHE96tf4Z9eOSutscvpzldBPJeb3LkO1SDMyemAz3Vfn-jd907L1-g/s1600-h/Chewbacca_w_Han_Solo_ANH.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPrx7b0GppF7eG02WitChAHEM03ZEhn8seZwtuWqULs1hFjxsfcAxGrNR1ZG-rpWzKXfZMbKY8xEav5Ms4mHE96tf4Z9eOSutscvpzldBPJeb3LkO1SDMyemAz3Vfn-jd907L1-g/s200/Chewbacca_w_Han_Solo_ANH.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288348714075361106" border="0" /></a>Every kid who grew up with Star Wars has either wanted to either be or sleep with Han Solo. That's just a fact. If you're between the ages of 18-35, no other figure has demonstrated all that it means to be interplanetarily masculine. Look at what this guy's got- looks, charisma, a spaceship, a giant furry sidekick, a laser gun, and a spunky galactic princess for a girlfriend. Pure awesome. I'm happy to say that here in Japan I've achieved Han-dom in one small way- how I talk to my manager.<br /><br />My manager understands English, but doesn't bother to speak it. I can understand a lot of Japanese, but, knowing that she understands English, I often just speak English to her. So, she speaks her language and I speak mine. This is the exact same thing as "RAwwwRRAwGWR!" <br />"You said it Chewie," or "RWAggRG!" "Yeah, I've got a back feeling about this."<br /><br />I'm not unique in this. Back when I lived in Okayama I was surprised to see lots of conversations where both participants mutually understood each other's languages, so they'd just each just speak their respective mother tongues at each other. At first I thought it was because people were just lazy, but the fact of the matter is that language learners can usually understand of a foreign language far more than they can produce. So, in that sense Star Wars is a completely and utterly accurate picture of intercultural communication.<br /><br />So anyway, I've achieved one small bit of Han-Solo-dom. Now I want a spaceship.Joe Streckerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13848690885706346774noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36773120.post-4740611895465868252009-01-05T10:30:00.009+09:002009-01-05T11:48:31.407+09:00Welcome to the Year of the Ox<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhui-lXZ5VrwNuXzASb49UQQQ2N09cJyQEgvbjJu6Gkg9jqZgUoqxMRikiNoRjuIKNkvda58MgHTAikvqUoOtBgnUr8WD2KaebC5AKf7a4mjUqVqIbI2pEHLhKrs_nN4ncS7JAP_Q/s1600-h/IMG_3947.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhui-lXZ5VrwNuXzASb49UQQQ2N09cJyQEgvbjJu6Gkg9jqZgUoqxMRikiNoRjuIKNkvda58MgHTAikvqUoOtBgnUr8WD2KaebC5AKf7a4mjUqVqIbI2pEHLhKrs_nN4ncS7JAP_Q/s320/IMG_3947.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287634759874074898" border="0" /></a>After being up all night on New Year's Eve I boarded a train home to Narita on the morning of the first. It was a mere six hours into the Year of the Ox and car was already crowded. The vehicle only proceeded to get more crowded as the thing went on down the line, accruing bleary-eyed commuters making their way to my suburb.<br /><br />They were going, of course, to Narita-San, the gigantic temple about a kilometer away from where I'm sitting right now. As one of the largest Buddhist temples in Japan, it is very well-trafficked in January, filling my town with people eager to receive New Year's blessings, get their fortune told, and to go through the rituals surrounding another trip around the sun.<br /><br />When I got off the train, the normal recorded announcement as to how to get to the airport had been replaced with one welcoming everyone to Narita-San. The crowd got off as one at the station, and all jostled against all. I went back to my apartment, and recovered from the previous night's revelry. A few hours later I got up and joined the crowds. In the dark, the masses had thinned a bit, but were still considerable. A few pictures:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpsFSvT1ZEx_uFeAYQw8aAPbBth7UGBZS2IPByC4E6765mdvq6b6Zgg2R5g7U3heUMbQ9xZVIAugPbXtdw-WvydDt0FciERpa-Uc5AtMc77-Jwn5Ryl0TOGM4jbxF_hdEjzAWfhA/s1600-h/IMG_3874.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpsFSvT1ZEx_uFeAYQw8aAPbBth7UGBZS2IPByC4E6765mdvq6b6Zgg2R5g7U3heUMbQ9xZVIAugPbXtdw-WvydDt0FciERpa-Uc5AtMc77-Jwn5Ryl0TOGM4jbxF_hdEjzAWfhA/s320/IMG_3874.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287622317835616274" border="0" /></a><br /><br />A hawker near the entrance to the temple, yelling out to the crowd about hot hazelnuts and sweet sake. Hazelnuts I've liked for some time, but I tried <span style="font-style: italic;">amazaki</span>, the sweet New Year's variety for the first time yesterday while strolling with a friend. It's much thicker than the normal sort of sake, and somewhat on the lumpy side. Served hot, it makes for an excellent winter drink.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjStj_TgZopR_pkVMHL2Cb2DLe5WXL5awFAvugBRplV-VdWrWQzbAHBsrbAqrbX2cYCJgwqW_tevLyNySzJL6TAWkq1PNuZfQm2zKmiONYLEvNjXhzCg2xawiNbr5ZfWUS7FP3CDQ/s1600-h/IMG_3893.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjStj_TgZopR_pkVMHL2Cb2DLe5WXL5awFAvugBRplV-VdWrWQzbAHBsrbAqrbX2cYCJgwqW_tevLyNySzJL6TAWkq1PNuZfQm2zKmiONYLEvNjXhzCg2xawiNbr5ZfWUS7FP3CDQ/s320/IMG_3893.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287622006426058978" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I am a bit unclear as to what, exactly, these things are. I've seen them in several places before, and given that many of them had the kanji for "luck" on them I'd assume that they were some sort of charm or something. Others simply said "Narita-san" on them, and a few bore the kanji for "construction," something that I couldn't really figure out. This was just one of the booths at the base of the temple were all manner of charms, objects, and trinkets were being sold. Not all of them were of traditional or religious nature- there were a number of ball-tossing and air gun games set up as well, which gave the whole place a carnival atmosphere.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu-wcRfyfHB3hH7p52HQp4KhR0KuDH04XqMPrE_7BgJYPiQ_e1wyBpIDm3ZLaTwRFreRamX8Oa3XNxYPwXo9ZqqVepYhmMgVBkBIYekWqv7q9Lm0xSqyOYCdMwWICCZq9qHR3AXA/s1600-h/IMG_3914.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu-wcRfyfHB3hH7p52HQp4KhR0KuDH04XqMPrE_7BgJYPiQ_e1wyBpIDm3ZLaTwRFreRamX8Oa3XNxYPwXo9ZqqVepYhmMgVBkBIYekWqv7q9Lm0xSqyOYCdMwWICCZq9qHR3AXA/s320/IMG_3914.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287624739272157314" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The main building of the temple. I've been here a number of times, but mostly at night when it's completely empty, so it was a bit curious seeing the whole place filled with people. Another thing that was new for me, though, was that the main sanctuary was open. I'd only been into the antechamber from which one can view the inner room from behind a glass partition, I'd never gone in the main room of the temple. It was open, though, and filled with people so I thought "What the hell. Why not." So, I took of my shoes and went in.<br /><br />At first I was a bit self-conscious about it. I was, after all, a foreigner who was not culturally or religiously affiliated with the place. I was also the only foreigner inside the sanctuary, and wondered if I was unconsciously doing something improper or disrespectful. However, I was able to beat such misgivings into submission and sat on the floor and took in the atmosphere of the place. People were sitting silently before the altar which was laden with candles. Incense burned in a few braziers and behind me several people were tossing five yen coins into the offering box and clapping as they made prayers for the New Year.<br /><br />I stayed there for about half an hour, and did my best to meditate in my own unsupernatural way. Since reading a few sutras, I've actually come to respect Siddhartha Guatauma as a philosopher in much the same way that I've respect, say, Socrates- smart guy, brilliant for his era, and wrong about 30% of the time. But, that's another blog post.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjggH8OAruGRA5RWoTcUo_UPHzarwNsKu4OmA5moQ522PfLMJuE4hvSujeglWBCwBPfIfjKgDW74kid5FupyoySK-PKiz4sq1MIlkKTIadpn3zx7CwujFaZ_ZyO3symUr5eg5qSrQ/s1600-h/IMG_3953.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjggH8OAruGRA5RWoTcUo_UPHzarwNsKu4OmA5moQ522PfLMJuE4hvSujeglWBCwBPfIfjKgDW74kid5FupyoySK-PKiz4sq1MIlkKTIadpn3zx7CwujFaZ_ZyO3symUr5eg5qSrQ/s320/IMG_3953.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287623874578158370" border="0" /></a><br /><br />After walking through the temple complex a bit I went back to Narita's main street, and the eel guys were out. Eel, for some reason, is the regional specialty of Narita, because here in Japan absolutely everything has to have a regional specialty. At this particular restaurant, the eel preparation is something of a street performance, and a bloody and smoky one at that. At a table on the street, two guys were grabbing live eels from a bucket of water, driving nails through their heads, and then splitting them open and pulling out their spines and guts in front of appreciative onlookers. Quite captivating to watch actually. The eels are grilled and served right there, at the apogee of freshness.<br /><br />When I first saw this, I thought about how such a show wouldn't really go over so well in America. Americans (at least liberal city-dwellers such as myself) can be distressingly alienated from the meat they eat. Meat doesn't come from the insides of animals- it comes from packages and cans. A friend of mine even insisted on sitting with her back to the fish tank at a sushi bar once, as she didn't want to be reminded of where her meal came from.<br /><br />Japan doesn't seem to suffer nearly as badly from this alienation, and I think that's a good thing. The New Year's crowd didn't seem repulsed or put off by the eel guys, at least not that I could tell. Instead, they eagerly bought up freshly grilled sea beasts, with appreciative exclamations of "oishii!"<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvra3Y2YYNYkcHVmwuROZb7r913fpCWclXb0YocQ7Kdta4AOhW9kFIw4yIELN_oJEHw8XPpziNcpRQ93iO3eOZHOifNWPAIphUqCdFCL0iCPNH2unzrq1CKGAGPrZajzW-Tj4yuw/s1600-h/IMG_3968.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvra3Y2YYNYkcHVmwuROZb7r913fpCWclXb0YocQ7Kdta4AOhW9kFIw4yIELN_oJEHw8XPpziNcpRQ93iO3eOZHOifNWPAIphUqCdFCL0iCPNH2unzrq1CKGAGPrZajzW-Tj4yuw/s320/IMG_3968.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5287624236238927842" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Lanterns glowing on the main street. The shops and restaurants, even as they were closing, still bustled with visitors. And they're still bustling. I was out again yesterday in the daylight and the whole place hummed. Narita, yes, is always a bit active, what with the airport and all the tourists. But, it's nice to see it buzzing in a different manner. So far, the Year of the Ox is off to a good start.Joe Streckerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13848690885706346774noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36773120.post-29320089402189439622008-12-31T10:23:00.013+09:002008-12-31T11:57:47.676+09:002008: Most Awesomest Year EverI've thought about it for a bit, and I really don't think it's an exaggeration to proclaim that 2008 is the single Most Awesomest Year I've ever had. Yes, it was so awesome it made English grammar contort itself.<br /><br />This was the year in which I hung out in the biggest city in the world, <a href="http://hiredtongue.blogspot.com/2008/05/shanghai-first-impressions-of-middle.html">made an eye-opening trip to China</a>, <a href="http://hiredtongue.blogspot.com/2008/06/new-wheels.html">took up cycling</a>, <a href="http://hiredtongue.blogspot.com/2008/10/gyeongju-hills-of-tombs-mountain-of.html">hiked in Korea</a> and <a href="http://hiredtongue.blogspot.com/2008/09/dmz-standoff-tourism.html">saw the DMZ</a>, <a href="http://hiredtongue.blogspot.com/2008/07/kabuki-pretty-damn-awesome.html">saw Kabuki for the first time</a>, <a href="http://hiredtongue.blogspot.com/2008/06/other-side-of-classroom.html">learned tons of Japanese in an awesome class</a>, <a href="http://hiredtongue.blogspot.com/2008/12/knowledge-is-nifty.html">took (and possibly passed) the Japanese Language Proficiency Test</a>, <a href="http://hiredtongue.blogspot.com/2008/02/setsubun.html">saw snow-covered sumo wrestlers throw beans at people</a>, saw more than a few giant Buddhas, played lots of frisbee, appreciated the giant temple that's right by my apartment, read a bunch of brilliant authors for the first time, made some awesome friends, <a href="http://hiredtongue.blogspot.com/2008/10/tick-tick-tick.html">and decided what sort of career I want later in life</a>. All in all, it was exceedingly kickass. A few memorable pictures:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLVk8l_TKeOerH6zZXMSzZ0pDHJZ-QsJoub8MDjh3betPj6HYk3VCp8VoFOlYSYG8zA9cy29Vi1eoaQInL7zHL2tj5YXt4Cp-WlqkEycBZiJgFtrXgi7ceh01mHIF29oOaMipKNQ/s1600-h/IMG_2648.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLVk8l_TKeOerH6zZXMSzZ0pDHJZ-QsJoub8MDjh3betPj6HYk3VCp8VoFOlYSYG8zA9cy29Vi1eoaQInL7zHL2tj5YXt4Cp-WlqkEycBZiJgFtrXgi7ceh01mHIF29oOaMipKNQ/s320/IMG_2648.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285765034318403186" border="0" /></a><br />This statue of a wandering monk is towards the back of Narita-San, the temple I live near. There are myriad statues of monks, Buddhas, and gods throughout the temple, either on pedestals or worked into the rocks. It's the second largest Buddhist temple in Japan, and it's become a place I quite love, <a href="http://hiredtongue.blogspot.com/2008/01/naritasan-by-night.html">particularly at night when all of the shadows make everything look menacing</a>. This picture was taken in March when Japan's iconic sakura were out.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSe4TjSsrVTWMJ4ekKWhLyvEveHwU4FvnVSggoxl_MhDSdSzISx3PDDAiNOBkHjDEnlsR34DprEzPY3VGHv3TeDNCOtnkagbx0bYvjulKGDwGq5ouZBs_S_7TCKt5FSJuLtUui0A/s1600-h/IMG_2730.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSe4TjSsrVTWMJ4ekKWhLyvEveHwU4FvnVSggoxl_MhDSdSzISx3PDDAiNOBkHjDEnlsR34DprEzPY3VGHv3TeDNCOtnkagbx0bYvjulKGDwGq5ouZBs_S_7TCKt5FSJuLtUui0A/s320/IMG_2730.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285766183033331170" border="0" /></a><br />Some rather enthusiastic participants at <a href="http://hiredtongue.blogspot.com/2008/04/rites-of-spring-part-ii-giant-cocks-of.html">Kawasaki's annual springtime fertility festival</a>.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQFsMM2hFeln9jW76oEtOjq2SWLYMFzyBNijBtjEwhuG1OSsuwF1XwKqpj321pCyiHqf7XGRtPY3EWRCSa7p473l9M2kefJCwuFPPogibphDueksubZel9HLvVo_eV0k_yc7YtqA/s1600-h/IMG_2814.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQFsMM2hFeln9jW76oEtOjq2SWLYMFzyBNijBtjEwhuG1OSsuwF1XwKqpj321pCyiHqf7XGRtPY3EWRCSa7p473l9M2kefJCwuFPPogibphDueksubZel9HLvVo_eV0k_yc7YtqA/s320/IMG_2814.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285767031836242386" border="0" /></a><br />Kawasaki's Buddhist temple on the same day as the Shinto penis festival. The Buddhist temple was a bit more sedate than the nearby Shinto shrine, but still bustling.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyK58A68XootORrrVZYlmJwOmUuo99GUQlZxWzUvd8AYvXspHgOHENQXUoC_pyySerX0pJ7k4KFVqUUxVNtji_jbdlxY66VIahHDzl4gkYrwzot7ciZh4OZ4OXCC7DKeTgt3k4TA/s1600-h/IMG_3104.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyK58A68XootORrrVZYlmJwOmUuo99GUQlZxWzUvd8AYvXspHgOHENQXUoC_pyySerX0pJ7k4KFVqUUxVNtji_jbdlxY66VIahHDzl4gkYrwzot7ciZh4OZ4OXCC7DKeTgt3k4TA/s320/IMG_3104.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285769263219633906" border="0" /></a><br />A view of <a href="http://hiredtongue.blogspot.com/2008/05/zhouzhuang-floating-temples-and.html">Zhouzhuang</a>, a water village just outside Shanghai.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_yMGRKJKhnwg4VjDzqKkMohetFuigBZalLrtW0_gBL_1ZD1iFY7C4Sm2IlwfaaMKQ-m4m7z68dTBSnbiw4HgJR80QRP3278adrSPJNpMpQ5YMaGbpBRefslrS8Zn0AUQZPWzwgQ/s1600-h/IMG_3179.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_yMGRKJKhnwg4VjDzqKkMohetFuigBZalLrtW0_gBL_1ZD1iFY7C4Sm2IlwfaaMKQ-m4m7z68dTBSnbiw4HgJR80QRP3278adrSPJNpMpQ5YMaGbpBRefslrS8Zn0AUQZPWzwgQ/s320/IMG_3179.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285770152836183090" border="0" /></a><br />Shanghai's unmistakable Pudong skyline by night. <a href="http://hiredtongue.blogspot.com/2008/05/shanghai-pictures-of-dynamism.html">Seeing all of the newness, all of the development, commerce and newly built infrastructure was amazing</a>. All the while, <a href="http://hiredtongue.blogspot.com/2008/05/shanghai-i-am-not-now-nor-have-i-ever.html">antiquated red flags</a> flapped in the wind.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHk2XSOeeYLQgU9dnZjgDfbgw2AhMZauIiZdOYSQisFE1F8rt4aY2eUDhFJw1Q-4e65LO25MTk8KqvNzIurdL6-7RiDSiwvDV-n4KC0jNC35XISFKgiodlSZ9wQ27emCMqKGhDEQ/s1600-h/IMG_3519.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHk2XSOeeYLQgU9dnZjgDfbgw2AhMZauIiZdOYSQisFE1F8rt4aY2eUDhFJw1Q-4e65LO25MTk8KqvNzIurdL6-7RiDSiwvDV-n4KC0jNC35XISFKgiodlSZ9wQ27emCMqKGhDEQ/s320/IMG_3519.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285771780769157218" border="0" /></a><br />I took this pictures while surrounded by the noise, lights, and heat of <a href="http://hiredtongue.blogspot.com/2008/07/noise-and-lights-of-summer.html">Narita's summer festival</a>. The wooden wagon, called a dashi, was pulled up the hill by a team of enthusiastic (and somewhat tipsy) Naritans, all the while cheered on by the crowds.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik7shGcSMzJcR4Y1_uPbICs8FsGn3MpVf3o2mYKqU0_7KFx74hDISmSsi9FpW5-ZKNgvS9D_KsxLOA_WOta-26NAWLC0Yz54gpVrC-RZsAiAYnLeAweFzv63umhrZe_-7Jm2a_nQ/s1600-h/IMG_3548.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik7shGcSMzJcR4Y1_uPbICs8FsGn3MpVf3o2mYKqU0_7KFx74hDISmSsi9FpW5-ZKNgvS9D_KsxLOA_WOta-26NAWLC0Yz54gpVrC-RZsAiAYnLeAweFzv63umhrZe_-7Jm2a_nQ/s320/IMG_3548.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285776120936918818" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://hiredtongue.blogspot.com/2008/07/in-which-i-hang-out-with-costumed-geek.html">Things made by enthusiastic Japanese Star Wars fans have tons more life in them than anything made by Lucasfilm</a>.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNHnZaHK6fWjEfbNtYruruUam3SU_4MihOjxGbRkNgzX_I9OapIiYswKoYkIVm4NmQDAMf0abEa-uq4XLagCBEWzDzLUjyIBHBjovRitaFzDEsoxn_-NCmBd-yzuR3mMqc3jnWww/s1600-h/IMG_3652.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNHnZaHK6fWjEfbNtYruruUam3SU_4MihOjxGbRkNgzX_I9OapIiYswKoYkIVm4NmQDAMf0abEa-uq4XLagCBEWzDzLUjyIBHBjovRitaFzDEsoxn_-NCmBd-yzuR3mMqc3jnWww/s320/IMG_3652.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285773114168289362" border="0" /></a><br />Seoul's statue of Admiral Ye Sun Sin, the man who helped to thwart Toyotomi Hideyoshi's plans for a conquest of Korea. And he did it with turtle ships, some of the first marine armor ever created. <a href="http://hiredtongue.blogspot.com/2008/09/seoul-in-which-i-arrive-in-korea.html">The whole of Korea was great</a>. If anything, I got the satisfaction of learning to read (though not necessarily understand) Hangeul.<br /><br />Unfortunately, I don't really have an pictures of the place that has meant the most to me this past year: Tokyo. I don't bother to bring my camera with me when I go into town, though I should probably get a few shots of the place before I leave. Admittedly, I love Tokyo so much mainly because I don't have to live there. I live out in Narita, an hour away from Tokyo station, and the Metropolis is mainly <a href="http://hiredtongue.blogspot.com/2008/05/tokyo-on-any-given-sunday.html">my playground on the weekend</a>. But what a playground it is. Whenever I get off the train I'm enthusiastic about doing stuff, about not having to be a teacher in the suburbs anymore- instead I get to be a city guy for a bit. I've got a month and a half left of this awesome place, and I know I'll miss it terribly.<br /><br />But missing it is entirely necessary. In 2009 I'm starting my career.Joe Streckerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13848690885706346774noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36773120.post-1555662929756250202008-12-29T13:33:00.003+09:002008-12-29T14:11:19.670+09:00In Which I Get a Personal Stereophonic DeviceI bought an iPod yesterday. Not "a new" iPod, mind you- I bought an iPod for the first time ever. It's the first personal stereo that I've owned in twelve years. The last time I had one I was a black-clad, sideburn-sporting teenager equally obsessed with Kurt Cobain and Mozart. It was a battered up old Walkman, a taped together mass of black plastic that I kept stocked with classical mix tapes, Led Zepplin, and 90s alternative. I don't remember how I got it, the earphones were dodgy, and I had to sort of jiggle it sometimes to make it work. I either lost it or it broke- I don't really remember, and never bothered to replace it.<br /><br />Not that I don't like music, mind you. I love the stuff, and in the intervening years have cultivated a fairly large collection of LPs, CDs, mp3s, and even casette tapes, the majority of which are stored back in the States. In my old demi-house (it was more of a duplex than an apartment) I was quite proud of my stereo with my shelf of nicely retro LPs, kept my CDs stocked prominently in my living room, and went to concerts often. But, I never got an iPod. Part of the reason was money- they aren't cheap after all. I also listened to a lot of music on cheap and easy-to-aquire vinyl that could never be stored on a digital device. Another issue, though, was that I never really thought of myself as someone who owned such a device. It was just an immutable fact about me- I have black hair, brown eyes, and don't own a personal sterophonic device.<br /><br />Recently, though, I've been going on this tear of musical geekery. It's been great. For whatever reason, I've started aquiring new albums at a fairly rapid pace, and I'm quite simply not in my apartment enough to enjoy them all. I've also taken up jogging, and figured that music would be nice while I did that. So, yesterday, I picked up a silver iPod nano in Shibuya. I was weirdly reluctant for a bit to get one, but fortunately a friend of mine was on hand to goad me into it.<br /><br />Anyway, these things are awesome. I guess everyone has known that for a while ago, what with the Walkman and its descendants being popular for something over twenty years now. You know that stock sci-fi scene where someone gets zapped back into the past and then impressed cavemen with something simple like a lighter? Well, right now I feel like that caveman- I'm impressed and awed by something that everyone else has been aware of and enjoying for quite some time now. But, it's great- I didn't have to listen to insufferable muzak jingles at the supermarket this weekend. Instead, I listened to Vampire Weekend while I picked out vegetables, and was completely exhuberant about it.<br /><br />So, what are you guys listening to right now? I'm caught up in full on music fandom and would love some suggestions. Right now I've been listening to Girl Talk, Vampire Weekend (who I've already mentioned), the new David Byrne and Brian Eno album, TV on the Radio, LCD Soundsystem and Frightened Rabbit. I've also given <span style="font-style: italic;">Chinese Democracy</span> a couple of listens, which I feel like I should be embarrassed about, but whatever.<br /><br />So... suggestions?Joe Streckerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13848690885706346774noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36773120.post-60534369799139650992008-12-23T09:45:00.005+09:002008-12-25T11:25:25.144+09:00Better Than PalanquinsPalanquins are silly. Sillier even than the most outsized of SUVs. As much as one can display conspicuous consumption today with a stupidly large car, that pales in comparison to being carted around by two or more humans whilst inside a gold box. And, it was precisely these monstrosities of wealth that a friend and I were looking at this weekend, at a special exhibit at the Edo Tokyo Museum.<br /><br />The whole display was a showcase of indulgence. What we were looking at were the playthings for the very rich, objects that only a sliver of the population actually utilized. I pointed this out to my friend and she said, "Yes, but the rich were the ones who made all the decisions and started all of the wars." I can't really argue with that. But still, looking at playthings and status symbols is not wholly satisfying. This is not to say that I didn't enjoy them- I did. Just that looking at such a tiny sliver privileged life for so long tends to provoke a bit of irritation at the decadence.<br /><br />One amusing thing, though- towards the end of the palanquin exhibit, there was a showcase full of objects that belonged to a princess whose things were on display. Amongst them were a laquerware basin and towel rack which looked like, well, a basin and towel rack. There were also helpful little labels that said "basin" and "towel rack" in English. Nevertheless, this older woman decided to help us out by pointing at the objects, and mime washing one's face and using a towel. This was really rather endearing, her making sure that we foreigners understood what the objects were. On the other hand, presuming that we were ignorant of such basic objects such as a basin was a bit patronizing. It was sort of sweet of her, nonetheless.<br /><br />We ventured out of the palanquin exhibit, into and through a gift shop selling bowls for over ten thousand yen, and up into the normal exhibition hall wherein I lots of stuff far more interesting that the feudal equivalent of SUVs resided.<br /><br />Like books. Books that were printed with old style woodblock presses, books bound together with strings and lavishly decorated on the covers and inside with all manner of illustrations. These were the publishing products of a feudal society and a direct descendant of mass media. Also impressive were the woodblocks- mass produced bits of adornment and entertainment, made in great numbers and sold to the public. There was likewise a whole exhibit about coinage and currency, of which there were apparently several kinds in the Edo era, in addition to using rice as a currency. I wondered how inflation worked back then, and at what rates the different currencies were transferable to each other.<br /><br />These things, books, prints and coins, were about ideas and communication, commerce and the popular sentiment of a place. Seeing these old examples of popular culture, the direct descendants of manga, newspapers, and publishing houses, inspired me far more than any relic of a gilded, idle life. These things were products of a vibrant society, not just a tiny minority.<br /><br />The next day I got into an IM conversation with an old friend of mine, and he mentioned that he'd been reading up on the Heian period, and would have loved to have been a noble back then. I mentioned that I was far more interested in Japan's modern era, and studying the rapid rate of modernization in the Meiji period could be instructive with regards to the speedy modernization happening now in other parts of the world. He replied with something about the importance of beauty and poetry and whatnot.<br /><br />I can't dispute that such things- beauty, poetry, adornment- are nice. I do, after all, rather like seeing temples, shrines, screens, and statuary, things which are hardly practical in the strictest sense. Yet, I want to look at history with a practical, not just an aesthetic eye. I want to see how problems were solved, how goals were persued, how technology was applied, how organizations were administed, and what the result of it all was. A book, after all, is just a book. But seeing the Edo era prints called into mind an entire infrastructure that would have to exist to sustain such things. If books were popular enough to be printed and sold, then that means literacy was widespread. It also means that the economic and agricultural structure of society (even though it's often called "feudal") had to be efficient enough to support sizable (albeit, still minority) non-agrarian specialist population. That is highly cool to find out about.<br /><br />For better or worse, I've also started thinking about broad-based societal phenomenon in a professionally curious way. As I continue to review political science, I'm more and more seeing myself as someone who will be entangled with the infrastructure and workings of societies. And that means knowing about industry, media, and commerce. These things are sizable and engaging, and soon I'm hoping to see such things in more than just an amateur fashion.Joe Streckerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13848690885706346774noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36773120.post-90730215356450048902008-12-19T23:13:00.004+09:002008-12-22T13:06:38.563+09:00Christmastime in JapanI like Christmas. That might come as a surprise to some of the people who know me, as there are lots of things about it that annoy the hell out of me. For the most part, I agree with everything that noted atheist/drunkard Christopher Hitchens has to say in <a href="http://www.slate.com/id/2206713/">this rather characteristic column</a>. It is indeed a nightmare of consumerism, stress, religiosity, and vulgarity. But, on the whole, it's worth it. It gives everyone a few days off at the end of the year, drives the economy a bit, and gives us yet another reason to consume grossly obese birds. Also, I like the Nutcracker Suite and the novelty of having an indoor tree.<br /><br />Well, it's more than that. I remember when I shared an apartment with an old girlfriend and we agreed to get a tree. Neither of us believed, and neither of us cared much for the family stress that we'd have to endure come Christmas Eve and Day. But still, be got ourselves a tree and set it up in our apartment, festooning it with a few ornaments and lights. Even though our relationship didn't last, I remember looking at that tree and thinking to myself "This is real- we actually have a connection. We got ourselves a goddamn <span style="font-style: italic;">tree</span>." I remember looking at it and thinking "this is my home now." It was a feeling that was fleeting, but wonderful, and all because of something as simple proping up an evergreen in one's living room. In other words, I know I can't escape the emotional connection that I have with this holiday- it is something that is fairly ingrained in me, and I will probably acknowledge Christmas in much the same way that I acknowledge Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Indepedence Day in my own way.<br /><br />Now, as much of a distaste as I have for religion in general, I tend to prefer the religious trappings of Christmas to the secular ones. Really- I'm not being ironic here. I'd take a nativity scene over Frosty the Snowman any day, and vastly prefer <span style="font-style: italic;">O Holy Night</span> to any such dreck as <span style="font-style: italic;">Winter Wonderland</span>. I suppose the reason for this is that the religious stuff seems to come from a real place on the part of the creators. This is not to say that relgious stuff can't be ingenuine or kitsch (it most certainly can). What I mean is that the non-secular trappings of Christmas are generally more real, emotion-laden, and unmediated than the non-religious kinds. And, even as a devout humanist I'm capable of enjoying such things on an aesthetic level. Much in the same way that I admire Dante, I also admire <span style="font-style: italic;">Adeste Fidelis</span>.<br /><br />Which brings me to Japan...<br /><br />There is Christmas in Japan. Oh my, is there ever Christmas in Japan. But, Japan is not a Christian country. Nor is it particularly Buddhist or Shinto. Based on conversations I've had here, it seems that Japan has ceremony without devotion, and secularism without abstention from ceremony. A very intelligent and articulate student of mine said to me "When we are at the temple we are Buddhist, when we are at the shrine we are Shinto, and on Christmas we are Christian." I can't say that she speaks for the entire population, to be sure, but her words stuck with me.<br /><br />I think that she's wrong on the last point, though- while Christmas is most certainly in the air here, there is nothing particularly Christian about it. It's a season and time of naked consumerism, a festival of lights and shopping that culminates in the consumption of fried chicken, cake, and subsequent sexual coupling. I'm not kidding- "Christmas Cake" is a popular confection here, and students are surprised when I tell them that it's utterly absent in the U.S. Likewise, KFC has somehow gotten itself brand-identified as Christmas food in Japan. I have to applaud whatever evil marketing genius is responsible for that. And, somehow, Christmas has turned into a popular date night, where young Japanese couples spirt off to love hotels and celebrate Jesus' birthday by fucking the shit out each other. While I think Jesus, hippy-type that he was, would probably be amused by this course of action, it is a little weird. There is a Christmas-themed love hotel near my apatment that is quite the sight to behold. The whole place, year-round, is decked out with wreaths, lights, candy canes, Santa, etc. And here, all that stuff means "let's do it."<br /><br />In any case, it's a curious and obnoxious sensation, seeing all of this. I was walking today in one of the Chiba suburbs where I teach, and plinky, midi-like versions of Christmas carols were being piped through the street's PA system. I wondered how many of the bent old women actually knew the lyrics of, or much cared for, the treacle that was being pumped into their public space. I noticed that all of them were generic holiday tunes only about winter, snow, jingle bells, and Rudolph. Nothing at all religious or devotional, nothing with an emotional core.<br /><br />Why? Because here Christmas is even more shallow, more consumer-oriented, more superficial than in the U.S. In the U.S. Christmas is a main festival of western civilization, and here it is merely an unofficial holiday that's all about shiny things and buying stuff. And Japan is nakedly unapologetic about that. There is no patina of devotion or meaning to it, no veneer of greater significance, no pretension of importance. Only lights, gifts, and empty adornment.<br /><br />I don't disapprove of this, mind you. I believe that Japan has every right to adopt our shallow gestures and use them for it's own benefit. Yet, I feel a bit of nostalgia for the emotional core of it all, of seeing my Catholic father's genuine joy at the holiday, of hearing Linus earnestly intone the Gospel of Luke at the end of <span style="font-style: italic;">A Charlie Brown Christmas</span>.<br /><br />To be sure, the nonbeliever in me can't complain- I would gladly see the entire relgion that venerates Christmas consigned to the dustbin of history. Yet, I balk at the emptiness of yet another repitition of idiotic non-songs such as <span style="font-style: italic;">Jingle Bells</span>. Here in Japan there is a shell and surface, but nothing behind that blinking lights.Joe Streckerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13848690885706346774noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36773120.post-58446001265689935442008-12-15T08:22:00.003+09:002008-12-15T11:29:22.822+09:00Knowledge is Nifty!For some reason, I sort of like getting up early. There's a sense of purpose to it.<br /><br />Two weeks ago, I got up early and peeled myself out of bed to go to Nihon University to take the third level of the Japanese Language Proficiency Test. It was quite the thing. I'd taken the test before, last year, and failed. But last year I really should have taken a much lower level. Last year was kind of like being trampled by an angry rhino that was made out of language. This year was much better, and I may have even actually passed the thing. Even if I didn't pass, though, it was an awesome experience because of the mental place that it put me in.<br /><br />I've been studying for my entire time in Japan, but I been studied far more intensely than normal the week before the test, and loved it. Absolutely loving it. I studied so much that I got a sort of high off of it. Really. For the entire week beforehand I'd made myself do little else with my free time, and while I definitely couldn't keep up that level of work all the time, it was great while it lasted. Finding stuff out, seeing how systems work, looking at a pile of information and seeing how it all fits together is one of the most pleasurable sensations ever. To suddenly understand something new, to have a new skill or ability, to see the world in a new way- that is a niftier aquisition than any new object.<br /><br />Seriously. Knowing stuff rocks.<br /><br />Anyway, nerdy knowledge junky that I am, the test gave me a focus and reason for my studies. I'm fairly goal-oriented, and something like the test is just the sort of thing that can make me work and act in such a way that I wouldn't be able to under normal circumstances. Also, the experience of the test was wonderful compared to last year. Like I said, last year's examinating trampled me handily. This time, though, I actually understood almost everything that was on it. I didn't know all of the vocabulary, and on some of the finer points of grammar I had to guess, but even in questions where I didn't know the specifics of the language mechanics I was still able to understand what the sentence was about. That's a fairly big deal, and comparing that with last year's experience gave me an awesome feeling of progress.<br /><br />Afterwards I joined a bunch of friends (several of whom had also taken the test) and we commemorated our academic endeavors by getting absolutely trashed on Brazilian sugar-cane booze. Fun times.<br /><br />Come February, I've another test to prepare for- the U.S. Foreign Service Officer Exam. While I'm still studying Japanese for the fun and immediate utility of it, I'm also refreshing my knowledge of political science. Yay studying! Yay knowing stuff! Yay!Joe Streckerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13848690885706346774noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36773120.post-44906942070360364312008-12-03T10:45:00.004+09:002008-12-03T18:16:39.350+09:00Aspiring to 61%I've been pacing around my apartment a lot, listening to <a href="http://www.japanesepod101.com/index.php">Japanesepod101</a>, sitting with my textbooks on trains and in coffee shops, and have given myself a temporary respite from studying political science. During my breaks at work I've closed the door to my classroom and am reviewing grammar and testing myself with flash cards. The primary forms of leisure that I've allowed myself are either reading <span style="font-style: italic;">Dragonball </span>in Japanese, or watching <span style="font-style: italic;">Witch Hunter Robin</span> (albeit with subtitles), so that I don't have to exit my Japanese brain space more than is necessary. Yesterday I tried to limit the amount of English that I used with my manager and coworker (much to their amusement) and have generally tried to soak my brain in the language.<br /><br />Why on earth am I doing this, you ask? On Sunday I'm taking the <a href="http://www.jees.or.jp/jlpt/en/">Japanese Language Proficiency Test</a>, third level. This is the same test that I took last year, and failed. Granted, last year I was biting off a bit more than I could chew- I really should have taken the fourth level, the lowest one. I'm a bit more confident this time around- hopefully my brain will be sufficiently marinated in Nihongo that I pass.<br /><br />But, the test is a bitch. So much of what I know I've learned from context, and the test is entirely decontextualized. This is good and bad. On one hand, language is always in context, so the test (much like many English test) is very artificial. On the other hand, it really does test whether or not you know the language in and of itself, not just whether you can read situations and deduce stuff.<br /><br />Anyhow, this has made having to teach English a little odd. I'd rather be a student now, and would like to selfishly refrain from having to teach my own language. But, my free time is packed with an intesity of study that I never had when I was a university student, which is a nifty feeling.<br /><br />To pass, all I need is over sixty percent. Here's hoping for sixty one...Joe Streckerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13848690885706346774noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36773120.post-53115502886898701112008-11-21T10:18:00.004+09:002008-11-25T10:10:51.829+09:00Book Rant: Samuel Huntington is WrongGiven that I'm taking the U.S. Foreign Service Exam in February, I've been devouring political science books for the past two months. Recently, I held my nose and picked up <span style="font-style: italic;">The Clash of Civilizations and the Remaking of World Order</span> by Samuel P. Huntington. I read Huntington's original article in <span style="font-style: italic;">Foreign Affairs</span> back in university, and found him to be a deplorable xenophobe. Nevertheless, he is widely quoted, refuted, and talked about, so reading what he had to say was important for my autodiactic endeavors.<br /><br />To sum up Huntington's argument: The principal divisions in the world are now among so-called "civilizations." Huntinton names seven major ones- Western, Latin American, Orthodox, Islamic, Hindu, Chinese, and Japanese. He also identifies separate African and Buddhist civilizations, but does not regard them as of major importance. These divisions, says Huntington, will define the chief source of conflicts after the Cold War. The violence and competition of the future will mainly come from competition between Western, Chinese, and Islamic civilizations. <br /><br />Back when I was a student of political science, I found his divisions to be curious and unecessary. Now that I've lived for over two years in another "civilization," I find his divisions to be not only odd, but actually destructive. Civilizations do not have clear-cut borders, there are divisions within civilizations, and culture is more changeable than he imagines.<br /><br />To be fair, Huntington does have a point when he says that culture matters. Culture is important, and must be taken into account to an extent. However, Huntington seems to think that culture is both immutable and overpowers all other concerns. Japan in particular, I think, offers a nice refutation of Huntington's views.<br /><br />A bit over one hundred fifty years ago, the spot at which I'm now sitting was a rural patch in a closed, feudal state. The U.S. and Europe had factories, industry, democracy, liberal economic systems, railroads and steam engines in the 1860s. Japan didn't. Japan had rice fields, swords, and a system of medieval patronage wherein the Shogunate hoped to keep the social order frozen in time. Had Samuel Huntington been around then, he would have written off Japan with the same sort of dismissal that he gave to Africa and Latin America.<br /><br />Then, that whole culture was scrapped. The Meiji Restoration is really, really mind blowing when you think about it. The whole medieval system was scrapped, the entire country was industrialized, and the whole culture was overhauled. Of course, there were members of the samurai class who resisted, but the modernizers carried the day. The modernizers of the Meiji Restoration didn't want Japan to be a backwater, didn't want it to be controlled the way China was being controlled, and wanted to create a globally competitive nation. And they did, much to the peril of China and Korea. As awful as some of the things that Imperial Japan did, it is worth emphasizing that <span style="font-style: italic;">modernizers within Japanese society determined that economic prosperity, national security, and global competitiveness were more important than conservative notions of cultural identity.</span><br /><br />This all happened again at the end of WWII. This time, the emperor system revealed itself to be an inefficient, dangerous, and unsuccessful model in the twentieth century. From what I've read, it seems that the American forces were extremely surprised with how little resistance and hostility they encountered when they came in and began the process of democratizing Japan. The reason for this was that modernizers within the society saw clearly that the prevailing cultural system had failed. Cultural systems, like economic systems, have to be accountable to their populations. They have to retain legitimacy, otherwise you get things like the Meiji Restoration and postwar Japan. Culture is not the unchangeable and implacable roadblock to global accord that Huntington imagines. It is something that can be altered, destroyed, upgraded and improved by determined liberals.<br /><br />There will always be conservatives like Huntington who cling to antiquated notions of culture and declare them to be a fundamental truth. But, the fact of the matter is that Western society now is radically different from Western society even fifty years ago. Fifty years ago, homosexuality was considered a mental disorder. Now, gay people can be happily married in countries like Canada and Spain. China is no longer really communist. Here in Japan, the generation gap is gaping. Huntington's notions do not stand up to the dynamism of the world today, where economic and technological trends chip away at old notions.<br /><br />Some years ago, I read an interview with <a href="http://dir.salon.com/story/books/int/2005/04/24/satrapi/index.html">Marjane Satrapi in Salon</a>. At the end of the interview she said something to the reporter that I thought nicely summed up their interaction and conversation. Speaking of the Iranian regime and the Bush administration she said that "The difference between you and your government is much bigger than the difference between you and me. And the difference between me and my government is much bigger than the difference between me and you. And our governments are very much the same."<br /><br />Satrapi's comment, while a little on the pithy side, accurately illustrates how liberal-minded, modern-minded and internationally people can relate to each other, especially when governments do not foster a mood of international cooperation or accord. Her insights are especially interesting given that she's from Iran.<br /><br />Anyway, I'm glad I got Huntington out of the way. There's only so much of his doomsaying and xenophobia I could take. I'm reading Thomas Friedman now, and he's sort of obnoxious in the other direction, what with incessantly declaring how flat the world is and all. But, he's a nice antidote to Huntington's backward-looking cultural myopia.Joe Streckerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13848690885706346774noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36773120.post-13623172228354166652008-11-13T11:19:00.004+09:002008-11-13T11:25:49.151+09:00xkcd: Font of Geographical ProfundityI completely identify with this. Even more so because I live in "The East" yet I'm from the American west coast (which of course is east of here).<br /><br />I also read somewhere that in Japan "the West" traditionally meant China.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://imgs.xkcd.com/comics/terminology.png"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 565px; height: 348px;" src="http://imgs.xkcd.com/comics/terminology.png" alt="" border="0" /></a>Joe Streckerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13848690885706346774noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36773120.post-5553559041155364752008-11-12T22:09:00.002+09:002008-11-12T22:36:11.295+09:00(Un)TeacherI've been most successful as a teacher when I've stopped teaching. I know that sounds like some stereotypically "Zen" thing to say or whatnot, but it's true.<br /><br />People don't learn English (or any language) to do grammar drills or rote practices. Those things are, at best, a necessary burden. At worst such blunt, direct means serve as dangerous demotivators. Language is communication. It is one human talking to another. It is not grammar or vocabulary. Grammar and vocabulary are tools that humans make use of in order to make communication better and more specific. They are means to a universal end.<br /><br />One of the best ways to teach new language items is to expose students to the meaning and feeling behind them, to show them that there is life and verve in words and structure. I've started telling students that "grammar has feeling," and they tend to look at me oddly, but it's true. Consider the examples-<br /><br />"Having done that task, I will do my homework."<br /><br />vs.<br /><br />"I'll do my homework when I'm done."<br /><br />Tell me: which one sounds like something voiced by a normal schoolkid, and which one sounds like a precocious little poindexter said it? There really is a lot of feeling conveyed grammar, and it's cool to see when students realize that.<br /><br />To say that I've taught best when I've stopped teaching, then, is to say that I know that I impart the emotional character and feeling of language best on students when they see me as an approachable fellow human rather who happens to be knowledgeable about a particular subject (English) rather than as a teacher. I've been least successful when I've tried to use my supposed authority to pound and drill language into other people's heads. When I've been the most honest with students, the most friendly, and the most genuine, I've also been the most successful as a source of English.<br /><br />Funny, that.Joe Streckerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13848690885706346774noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36773120.post-29133383644337107062008-11-05T10:44:00.002+09:002008-11-05T11:58:48.013+09:00Upon the Occasion of the Election of Barack Obama(Every so often I just want to use really flowery language. Today was one of those days.)<br /><br />I woke up this morning, the morning of November 5th, crawled off of my futon, and began to check election results. The polls hadn't closed yet, and the various news sites were just flurries of speculation and unreliable exit polls. As I write this now, MSNBC has called Pennsylvania for Obama, and the New York Times, though not willing to make the same definite pronouncement, shows Obama in the lead in Pennsylvania, Ohio, and Florida. This election is over, and Obama has won.<br /><br />My students, throughout the election, have had all manner of questions for me about it. Almost all of them know that I majored in Political Science, and when asked directly about my political beliefs I am honest with them. There are two questions that they've asked me at the start of conversations: Whom I support (Obama) and why do I support him. The answer to that second question is a bit more complicated. (I always try to turn the conversation around and ask them about the Japanese government as well. Most often, students lead in with a laugh about how the new PM, Taro Aso, is a huge otaku.)<br /><br />Why do I support Obama? Why am I filled with glee and buzz as I'm reloading news sites in the other tabs on my browsers? I want the answer to be something more substantive and well thought-out than "because he's a Democrat." I am a Democrat, and a liberal one at that. But, I want my opinions to come from reason and discernment rather than an emotional sense of partisanship.<br /><br />Why do I support Obama? One of the biggest reasons, is seeing how positively my students talk about him. I've seen several Japanese people smile and speak approvingly of the Democratic candidate, and what he represents about the U.S. One of Obama's greatest strengths (and perhaps a huge stumbling block to his presidency) is that he is a symbol as well as a man. This will undoubtably lead to a certain amount of disappointment from people who see him as the Second Coming, but this rare asset is also something that can help us (that is, the U.S.A.) in our dealings abroad.<br /><br />Obama, as a symbol and an icon, shows two things to an international audience like my students. First, he is an obvious break with George W. Bush. The world at large has not been impressed with the current president, and Bush has done obvious harm with regards to our reputation and image in other countries. It is profoundly important that other countries <span style="font-style: italic;">like us</span>. Even admire us. We are a military superpower, the biggest economy in the world, a mitigator of international disputes, holder of the most important currency on earth, and all-around superpower. With all of that ability and responsiblity comes a whole host of unique problems. We are also used as a scapegoat by ideological elites in less-well off countries, employed as a symbol by ideologues (like Hugo Chavez) who want to define themselves against us, and an obvious target for those who would seek to violently restructure civilization, such as Bin Laden and others like him.<br /><br />To perform these responsibilities and combat these challenges we need legitimacy. Not only do the leaders of other countries have to agree with out official policies, but peoples in other places need to be comfortable with, say, American troops stationed within their borders and American diplomats and aide workers working on solutions to local problems. If we do not have support from the populace, if American troops, aide workers, etc., are seen as objects worthy of protest (protest which can potentially become violent) rather than as part of a solution, then our tasks abroad become much, much more difficult. George W. Bush has eroded that essential legitimacy, and Barack Obama, I hope, can restore it.<br /><br />I have high hopes for Obama because people such as my students know that he is a profoundly different man than the current president. Not only in terms of his party and his race, but also in temperment and character. At one time I would have dismissed such things as emotional and unimportant, I would have only cared how a politican voted and decided on certain issues. Now, though, I can see how Obama's bearing has already benefited us a little in terms of burnishing our image. Hopefully, that trend will continue.<br /><br />The second major way that the U.S. can benefit from Obama as a symbol is that he shows how a civilization can transform itself. Much has already been said about how the elction of Obama is the culmination of years of work regarding race relations in America. This is true, though racism and racial divisions will not vanish with his presidency. I do think, though, that it is extremely wonderful to see that a democratic, industrialized, economically liberal country can indeed actively move past divisions that were once seen as immobile and immutable.<br /><br />Yesterday I was talking with a Japanese coworker of mine about Japanese attitudes towards Chinese. My coworker, who has traveled abroad extensively and lived in China as a child, mentioned that she feels odd when students say things that spring from obvious prejudice. She even went so far as to say that she herself even feels the pull of that prejudice, a whole array of social emotions that pulled her away from her better reason and nature. Obama, though, shows that one of the gifts of modernity is that it can help us pull away from ugly old tribalisms, and that divisions such as the one my coworker described need not be permanent. Through Obama the U.S. can show the world that such liberalization is possible and desirable.<br /><br />I know that Obama's presidency will be as flawed as any other, and that his halo will undoubtably dim when his administration ends in (hopefully) eight years. However, right now, just for a moment, I'm delighting in a moment in history where a man who has become symbol of liberalism has acheived the presidency of the most powerful country on earth. The New York Times has called Pennsylvania for Obama. Ohio and Florida are still blue. Slate has just called the election. The world at large, I think, is looking on appreciatively.Joe Streckerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13848690885706346774noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36773120.post-22458979687138579612008-10-24T23:15:00.002+09:002008-10-24T23:27:00.543+09:00Tick, Tick, Tick...I'm leaving Japan.<br /><br />I'm leaving in the first half of February, and I feel great about it. I've had this planned for a while, but this past month I've gone through the official channels at my work, written a letter of resignation, and am prepared to leave my job behind in less than four month's time. This is happening, I believe, at precisely the right time. As of tomorrow I'll have been in Japan for two years. Over the course of my time here I've learned quite a bit, changed much more than I thought I would, and had a wonderfully unexpected experience. But, it's time to go. I find myself going through the motions at my job without passion or a feeling of being challenged. In some ways, it's great to not have to think much about my work. In other ways, it feels maddening to be underutilized. Arrogant as it may sound, I know that I've got skills that my current position will not allow me to use. At work I may be busy in a technical sense, but in more meaningful, intellectual ways I'm quite idle. I aim to fix that.<br /><br />So, I'll be back in the States in February, though not permanently. At least that's the tentative plan. In February I'll be taking the Foreign Service Exam, and I hope to get a job at a U.S. embassy or consulate somewhere around the globe. I thought that a stay in Japan would get the urge to live as an expat out of my system. Instead, it just got it more into my system. What's more, I know that I will be continually unsatisfied if I merely read about, talk about, and think about politics and world affairs all of my life. I want to work with it in some small way, to put that political science degree to some measure of use.<br /><br />I know I'll be out of Japan in four months, back in the States in five, and no idea where I'll be in a year's time. Right now, I wouldn't have it any other way.Joe Streckerthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13848690885706346774noreply@blogger.com6