Monday, November 20, 2006

The last entry I wrote was a very angry one. Very angry indeed. It had to do with hospitals and bureaucracy. I decided not to post it because hospitals and bureaucracy are no-one’s favourite talking points. Except the Minister for Hospitals and Bureaucracy, and even then only during working hours.

So…it’s almost Christmas. This makes me very happy for as people may or may not know, I love Christmas. Really, I love Christmas. There seems to be an atmosphere in the air roundabout Christmastime, an atmosphere that tells us to forget all the bad stuff, look! Fairy lights! It’s like getting a great big hug for 4 weeks, only less awkward. It’s great.

However, I still have a deep down feeling that putting up Christmas decorations or listening to Christmas songs before December is…wrong. Sacrilegious almost. We tried it, Hannah and me, this weekend. I had once again gotten all excited that Christmas was just around the corner and I had gotten a craving for mince pies (eating Christmassy things outside of December is perfectly natural). So, with a conspicuous lack of any cowless mince, we decided to make our own. We asked Delia, for she always seems to know what to do. Via the magic telephonyjigger of the intraweb, Delia told us how to make the festive pie filling we desired. So, we bought the ingredients and went about making the mince.

My laptop and it’s endless library of hearty songs was but metres away from the newly Christened “Cookorama” section of my lowly apartment, so I thought it’d set the mood nicely if we listened to some festive tunes. I loaded up “The Best Christmas Album in the World…Ever!”, skipping the “traditional” CD and booting up Elton John stepping into Christmas.

It felt wrong. I must admit I felt violated. There we were, November the 18th, listening to modern Christmas songs. I felt as if I’d raided the stable, lifted the infant Christ from his manger and slapped him about the face with a copy of Gary Glitter’s “Rock and Roll Christmas.” So, we turned it off and settled for some more generic tunes. And lo, it was good.

Unfortunately we didn’t have any brandy for the mince so we used Japanese shochu. It looks a bit runny too. I’m hoping that it’ll look nicer after the one week standing time Delia commanded us to allow. Don’t fail me Delia.

I’m also considering Christmas decorations. Last year I did my best, and turned my living room into a little grotto. This year I am determined to outdo last year’s effort and this will probably involve buying more fairy lights and various other tat. Among the items under consideration are a life-size dancing Santa whose cold, lifeless eyes stare into the void as the swollen body below gyrates mechanically to a terrible rendition of “Jingle Bells” emanating from its groin; an inflatable snowglobe that’s approximately 6 foot high by 4 foot wide and quiet big enough to fit two fully grown adults in it’s glorious plastic tableau, and a statue of Rudolph made entirely of neon. Truly, I am blessed with choice.

Finally there’s the China holiday. I’m perhaps looking forward to this the most. Since the final year of Uni, me and Hannah have been plotting to go away somewhere together but unfortunately nothing has ever materialised. Now however, our deposits are paid, most of our flights are booked and there’s only the accommodation and visas to sort out. Apparently it’s going to be about –7 in Beijing so at least we won’t feel cold when we return.

Wednesday, November 08, 2006

Bombed

Well, I’m not sure quite what inspired that little rant down there. I still agree with most of it, but I do appear to have been in something of a bad frame of mind there. Anyway, what have I been up to recently I hear you ask? Well, I’ll tell you. Last weekend was a long one so me and Hannah decided to take a little trip down to Kagoshima, the Satsuma state and home of the appropriately named Satsuma rebellion that was the inspiration for The Last Samurai. It was with fervent ambitions of finding some rogue samurai that we set out to the Kumamoto city bus centre. So, we arrive. All’s well, point us in the direction of the nearest coach-like object and we’re off.

Woah there! Not so fast! This is Japan, they don’t just let you go anywhere you know! Indeed, it turns out there are no buses to Kagoshima running from Kumamoto. There are no trains either, the reason we looked to busses in the first place, so it looks like tensions still abound. Someone should tell Kumamoto council that the rebellion happened 400 years ago and that they should probably provide some way of getting in to Kagoshima that doesn’t involve losing a thumb.

Anyway, what they did have plenty of were busses to Nagasaki so we duly hopped aboard (after buying return tickets) the nearest one. We were off. 3 fairly uneventful hours later and we arrive at Nagasaki station. It was over a year since I was here last, and unsurprisingly not much had changed. It’s not like anyone was going to drop a bomb on the place.After searching frantically for a hotel, we dumped our stuff and had a little explore. My favourite part of the city is still the Wharf, appropriately labelled “For International Tourists” on a nearby map. It’s a lovely little wooden decked area with restaurants and pubs overlooking the rather lovely harbour and neighbouring Mt Inasa with it’s garish observatory. More on that later.

We dived into the local sushi shop and devoured our own body weight in sushi and sake, all the while being oggled by the clearly drunken owner of the place. They were amazed when we ordered hot sake, and even more taken aback when we lacked the “Arigaaaahto’ mate!” accent of other foreigners. My Japanese may still be poor but by god can I pronounce the three words I do know.

We then did what every slightly inebriated foreigner does in Japan at night and headed for the nearest Karaoke bar. Now, Karaoke is different over here in the way that it’s not something that gets wheeled out in dodgy pubs when the jukebox breaks down, it’s actually a substitute for the whole pub. Karaoke parlours are numerous and varied, from themed locales to your more common chains, perhaps the biggest of which is Shidax. Now, I’d never been to a Shidax. In Yatsushiro we go to a little local one that appears to be a franchise. It’s fun and it’s cheap. We once spent 5 hours in there and ordered more drinks than I can remember and the bill came to about 1000 yen (£5) each. Naturally, I assumed Shidax would match this.

So, we bluster in and clumsily sign our names on a little sheet and get allocated a room for 2 hours. We wander in, spend 10 minutes figuring out how to work the machine and order our first drinks via the handy telephone on the wall. There’s a small mishap where Hannah basically yells, “Drinks please!” down the thing and hangs up, but eventually we get some fairly potent Kaluha milks delivered. We start singing.3 hours later we emerge from our den, ear ringing and hearts smiling. Lo, there was singing, and it was good. So, we bumble back to the front desk and ask for our bill. I look at the cash register as the amount comes in.

11000 yen.

Cue confused looks. My mouth may have drooped slightly.

11000 yen! In terms of pounds sterling that’s just shy of £60. For Karaoke! There’s nothing to do but pay it but we study the bill furiously once we get the receipt. The people behind the desk begin whispering as we walk away with our mouths still hanging. £60! It turns out that we made a grave error in assuming that we’d signed up for nomihodai, all you can drink, which is the default setting at my local. Instead, we’d been playing for all the drinks individually. They had not been cheap, and we had ordered a lot. It was probably our fault for not checking with them before we went in but it’ll be a long time before I step foot in a Shidax again.

Anyway, the next day we do the sights. The atomic bomb museum was unchanged from my last visit, what with atomic bomb incidents being down this year. The Peace Park and Peace Statue were still unintentionally hilarious (just look at the thing, it’s hideous!). The Spectacles Bridge was still suitably spectacle like, if not particularly spectacular. We went to a few temples I hadn’t been to before, and found a gigantic Buddha statue on the back of a turtle-like building. We finished the day with a trip up Mt Inasa to the aforementioned observatory. I still think it’s a fantastic view but Hannah was less impressed as you can see from the photos below.

On the final, day, we only had a few hours before our bus. We spent most of our time at the Confucian temple, the only example outside of China. The adjoining museum of China artefacts served only to further excite me about our trip there this Christmas. I really can’t wait.

So we got the bus home, and all was well. Actually no, we got caught in the inescapable web of Japanese bureaucracy when the driver of the bus took our tickets and forget all about it. We had to pay again. Still, this was one small (but incredibly, incredibly annoying) smear on an otherwise fantastic weekend.

I’ve stuck some photos down there of our trip. This’s what £600 worth of camera and £0 worth of talent will get you.

The Wharf. Look at all the pretty lights. You don’t pick that shit up with your £400 “cameras” I tell you.

It’s Hannah, and one of many photos I have of her taking photos.


Here’s another one. The girl just loves taking photos.


In a radical change of pace, Hannah decides not to take a photo. She doesn’t look happy about it though does she?

What a lovely picture. The city at dusk. Hannah, so used to not taking photos at this point, missed a lovely shot, don’t you think?

“Fucking Huge She-man Teaches Babies to Rock Out” Apparently it’s an extremely holy notion.



“…and I said to him: “If you think that’s impressive, you should see my cock!””
“……..”
“Walter?”
“Don’t touch me.”


The city at night. It’s a bit blurry because I couldn’t keep the camera still. Insert “tripod” joke here. Tee hee.

Hannah just after I won our 8mile-esque Rap Battle. Shortly after this she drop kicked a baby right off the mountain. Ironically enough, it landed just next to the atomic bomb hypocenter and yet caused only a fraction of the damage.

I could quite happily spend all day trying to write amusing captions for pictures, but this one speaks for itself does it not? Looking good my friend. Looking good.