Evidence

I really did go to Kyoto. Here's the proof.

Kyoto Station. Bloody massive.

Shinkansen. Not ours of course, ours was much better

A temple. I think this was the entrance to the Inari shrine.

This was the real meat of Inari, the thousands of tori gates. Marvo

More later.

Trip

Kyoto then. I’d been once before but was so tired after the completely pointless Kobe recontracting conference that I’d just attended that I didn’t really get to see much of it. This time however Hannah and me had 4 days to explore. As Hannah had also been before and had in fact managed to make it out of her hostel without keeling over we had a pretty good idea of where to go and what to do.

Obviously there was a lot of temple hopping, Kyoto having something of a temple surplus. There was the famous Golden Pavilion (a wee bit tacky if you ask me) and the less well-known and inaccurately named Silver Pavilion (much nicer and probably my favourite). There was the precariously balanced Kiyomizu shrine replete with the rudest people in all of Japan. Inari shrine also resides with the city, along with its thousands and thousands of corporate sponsored Tori gates.

Just outside the city proper is Nara, which was apparently the first capital of Japan. Most of Nara seemed to consist of a park full of deer and tourists that also contained the world’s largest wooden building which itself houses the world’s largest upright Buddha. That’s a lot of the world’s largest stuff. The building was big, the Buddha was fucking huge. For a Buddha.

Then there was the city itself. Kyoto is a long, long (looooooooooooooooong) way from Kumamoto and I’m not just talking about miles and kilometres. If Kumamoto is to be considered the Slough or Wigan of Japan then Kyoto is surely its Manchester or Leeds. I’d say York but that quiet, historic town has nothing on Kyoto’s vibrant people and outstanding nightlife. It’s an amazing place. For what was possibly the first time in almost a year, I felt like I was somewhere that was fun, somewhere that mattered. It felt familiar. I was constantly reminded of my time in Leeds, up to now possibly the most content I’ve ever been (well, the first two years anyway). We weren’t being stared at or commented on (well, actually we were but nowhere near as much as in Kumamoto). I didn’t feel like an alien. People didn’t feel the need to comment on my clothes as I walked down the street, nor stop and giggle at the sight of someone who wasn’t from Japan. It was like having a weight lifted from my shoulders.

I realised that all my opinions of Japan, of its people, its rules, the way things are run, are not in fact indicative of Japan as a whole. In fact, my views and opinions are probably completely erroneous. Kyoto proved to me that Japan is more than the farmers and convenience store workers of Kagami, more than the salarymen of Kumamoto city, more than the teenagers on the tram taking sly pictures of the gaijin with their phones. Although we still got a few comments and the odd glance, the whole experience made Kumamoto look like a racist Nazi state in my mind. Needless to say I dreaded going home.

But home I am, if you can call it that. My recent exploratory venture into interior design has made my apartment feel a bit more homely, especially thanks to Hannah’s birthday present, but the town of Kagami itself is, I think, about as far away from being a homely place as anywhere I’ve ever been. I’ve taken to calling it a ‘place’ rather than a ‘town’ because, well…that’s what it is. It’s a place for farmers to live when they come home from the fields. The only reason there are two high schools here is because it’s situated exactly between Yatsushiro and Kumamoto and even then no one wants their kids to go to school here.

Still, I had a great time in Kyoto. It was exactly what I needed at exactly the right time. Next stop, Tokyo.

Snap

Yesterday was a national holiday so I got the day off. Yay! I was a bit bored so I set out with my camera to get some shots of Kagami, my hometown. Of course, I waited until the light started to fade so I could really capture that “I can’t see what’s happening in that photo” look. To remedy this, I cracked out a little program I downloaded and had a fiddle with some of the shots. So here it is, presenting:

“The Kagami Urban Kollection.”
Hardcore: To the Max!

Class

My first Japanese lesson was last night. It went well. It was enjoyable even, something I thought impossible after years of state-funded education had convinced me that anything resembling the act of learning was both dull and pointless. The lesson itself consisted of trying to ascertain what level of Japanese I actually possessed, a more difficult task than you may imagine. I’ve been living in this country for almost 2 years now so I’ve obviously picked up a reasonable amount of vocab in that time. During the long, long summer holiday of 06 I also attempted a few weeks of self study which enlightened me as to some of the grammatical elements of Japanese. However, I didn’t really know how much I’d retained or indeed how much I’d even learnt.

I would class myself as a beginner but I surprised myself with how many words I actually knew, thinking as I did that 0 probably would have been an accurate count. I knew more than 0. This is good. I found myself getting a bit flustered when I was asked questions orally, questions I knew I knew the answer to. Still, I felt I came away with something which is always nice.

Lessons are almost over for this semester. Hikawa have already finished and yatsuno will go the same way next week. This means that, although I still have to go to school during the next few weeks, I won’t have any lessons. This is both good, and bad. Good because I get paid to do nothing. Nothing is expected of me and I am happy to fulfil those expectations. However, not having anything to do and doing nothing are quite different. Doing nothing is a sure-fire way to make every day drag on until it seems like a month. Doing nothing also the best way to get headache, staring at empty computer screens waiting for the bell to ring. It’s frustrating. Luckily this period will be broken up by Hannah and I’s trip to Kyoto from the 28^th so at least I get a proper break this time round.

Spring

The spring break is rapidly approaching. Two (or three in the case of one of my schools) weeks of no lessons even less responsibility. Good shit.

Me and Hannah are heading to Kyoto for a bit in just over a fortnight which cannot come soon enough. Although school life has been pleasantly free of the annoying incidents I once associated with it, I can’t say it won’t be a relief to get out of Kagami. Oh yes.

Also, I’ve decided to get Japanese lessons. This after a mere 1 year and 8 months in the country. I did have the occasional stab at self-study but, with local ALTs having great Japanese and most of my Japanese teachers having great English, the motivation wasn’t really there. However, looking at Hannah whose level is quiet unbelievable after only 8 months of lessons has inspired me. I haven’t deluded myself into thinking I can progress and rapidly as her, this is her third language after all, but it has convinced me that it isn’t too late to start.

Shanghai

The last stop on our tour and the most highly recommended of the cities, we were both looking forward to Shanghai. It was good. We both enjoyed it. Unfortunately the rain, which had mercifully let us be so far, decided to pay a visit. The first day we arrived in Shanghai was nice, not too cold and very clear. Thankfully we chose to go to the Bund to have a look at the budding Shangai riverside. This is the iconic set of highrises and the odd looking Oriental Pearl Tower that have come to symbolise the city. It was a lovely view and, save me getting a load of candy apple shite all over my coat, it was nice. As I say, it’s a good job we got to see that view the first day as for the rest of our stay the whole area was covered in low hanging clouds and fog, rendering the buildings across the water almost invisible. Oh well.

There were still some interesting sights though, The Oriental pearl tower was resplendant in its garishness, especially when placed next to the Jin Mao tower, the 4th tallest building in the world and possibly the most entrancing building I've ever seen. Seriously, it looked like something a comic book super-villain would reside in. It was magnificent.

Unfortunately, we found that most of the infamous street markets of Shanghai, full of dirt cheap brand-name clothing and some of the city’s main attractions, had been closed down, no doubt due to international pressure. No cheap Gucci for you. The Friendship store, a shop opened by the British to supply expats during the Empire, which was still operating according to the Lonely Planet, had also been demolished to make way for a hotel. Because you know, there aren’t enough of those in Shanghai.

We ate out a lot mainly because the food was so good and so cheap. Thanks to the ever-present Lonely Planet in Hannah’s bag, we were able to search out the finest the city had to offer. This included a lovely health food place that we went to twice and a vegetarian place whose tofu dishes were textured and flavoured meat imitations. It was actually unbelievable to me that some of the dishes weren’t meat; the breaded chicken tofu was, in almost every way, exactly the same as actual breaded chicken (minus the fat and gristle).

Also, I got a haircut.

Other adventures led to us encountering the famed People's Park English Corner, a gathering of which we were blissfully unaware. Basically all the English speakers in Shanghai (or so it seemed) decended on the area known as People Park every Sunday to practice English. Into this we stumbled. Having been warned to run screaming from anyone approaching us and speaking English it was probably best that the first thing they said to us was "Don't be afraid." It was rather surreal.

Soon we were talking about every topic under the sun. Of particular note was the question of Japanese people. One man, pictured below with me and Hannah, had been coming to the corner for 60 odd years and told us the fascinating story of how he and his English teacher were seperated during the Japanese occupation of China and reunited several years later. The general opinion was that the Japanese were stuck up and unfriendly and generally disliked. Hmm.

Shanghai is probably the only place I’d go back to. Beijing was good but now that the sites have been seen, it offers little incentive to return. Xi’an probably ended up being our favourite city but is so far away that we’d need a reason to go back. Shanghai is an hour and a half’s flight away from Fukuoka and a great place.

The Oriental Pearl. Wouldn't look out of place in Blackpool. Speaking of which...

Look what I found. At the top of one of China's landmark buildings, Blackpool reigns supreme!





Oriental Pearl on the left, Jin Mao in the middle (it's much further back the the rest of the buildings)

Jin Mao Tower. Just...look at it!


It was pretty tall too.

Xi'an

Xi’an, the even more ancient capitol of China was our second stop. After a relatively easy flight we arrived at the airport and were picked up by a happy little chap the hostel had sent. Driving through the ramshackle “towns” we began to become less and less convinced that coming to Xi’an had been a good idea. The mist had settled and the places we were passing through were supremely depressing (think the endless concrete high-rises of the Eastern Bloc). But then, low and behold, the famous Bell Tower emerged and we had arrived at what would arguably be the most enjoyable city we would visited.

Xi’an is interesting because it lies in the centre of China on the border between the Buddhist section and the Muslim section. Because of this, there is an extremely active Muslim Quarter just down the road from where we were staying and after we’d got settled (lovely room, absolutely perfect position) we went for a visit. For the first time in one and a half years I had a donner kebab. It wasn’t even intentional, I simply liked the smell of what some woman was cooking on the street and asked for one. It cost me 1 RMB (about 6p) and it was lovely. Unfortunately I couldn’t find this lady again, nor did anyone else seem to be making them. Sad face.

The rest of the street was equally as interesting, although poor Hannah didn’t find much to eat as most of it was lamb. The fried figs were nice though and the candied fruit sold in the candied fruit market was unbelievable. It was like being in Charlie’s Chocolate Factory if Wonka had preferred a nice bit of pineapple to a Mars Bar. There was also, strangely enough, a shop dedicated entirely to video game collectables. Poor Hannah indeed.

On the second day we set out to find what we had actually come to see; the Terracotta Warriors. This, one of the modern wonders of the world, had been highly recommended from all quarters and was probably the sight I was looking forward to the most. To get to it we took a local bus (12 RMB, just less than a quid, for the hour ride) and were dumped on the edge of a vast car park. We started to walk. It had been snowing that morning and raining the evening before so the ground was awash with slush. Little did I know that my shoes had holes to rival those in a Columbine student’s chest. By the time we’d walked through the hideously abandoned “Tourist Village” I couldn’t feel my feet. It was freezing. It was actually well below freezing if you’re counting (about minus 4 or so) and this did not put me in a good mood. Still, I shook myself out of it and convinced myself the sight of 6000 terracotta warriors in perfect battle formation would cheer me up.

So we finally, finally got to the excavation pits. They were covered over with aircraft hangar-like structures and surrounded by various dull looking concrete exhibition buildings. With the thick mist and layer of snow it really did look abandoned and rather depressing. Anyway, we’d been advised by someone in the Beijing hostel to work backwards, go from pit 3 to 2 to 1 as they increase in size and quality in that order. So, we skipped the first two and headed to Pit 3. It was OK, a rather small area containing 68 soldiers, or so we were told. Nice. Next was pit 2 and the sheer size of the building housing it meant that it couldn’t possibly be disappointing. Indeed, as I neared the perimeter wall enclosing he pit I averted my eyes for a moment, preparing them for the amazing scene below me…

It was indeed big. Huge infact. Massive one might say. One might also describe it as “soldier-less.” Not a single intact warrior stood in the massive hole before me. It was profoundly disappointing. I had expected row on row of pristine terracotta warriors ready for war but all I got was some ancient timber and shattered pottery barely distinguishable from the earth it lay in. Over to the side there were several soldiers on display in glass boxes but these were merely a distraction.

So, with a sinking heart, we made for Pit 1; the big one, the one in which over 6000 soldiers were supposedly discovered. Again, like Pit 3 it was nice…but that was it. There were soldiers here, maybe a few hundred, but nowhere near the figures so often banded about. A sign reliably informed us that most of the soldiers had been destroyed during the Japanese occupation of China or moved into an onsite exhibition centre, which was of course, closed. Considering the conditions we’d seen and the time we’d taken to get there, it was a bit of a disappointment.

Still, the city itself sticks in my mind as the most enjoyable of the places we visited. Vibrant, colourful and a million miles from the quiet Japanese settlement I call home, it was like being back in Leeds. An Oriental Leeds.

(This is the soldier-less Pit 2 by the by. See?)

Beijing

"Is it me or does this place smell of ass?”

Ah, Beijing, ancient capitol of an ancient race with tourists coming from all corners of The Almighty’s globe to wonder at her Forbidden City, Mao’s Tianamen Square and the Great Wall of China. City of history, city of the Olympics, city of smells. This last quality led to the rather amusing quote above, as spoken by a random American at the Summer Palace. Even though Hannah and me were in the middle of a small fracas, we couldn’t help but laugh (or at least Hannah couldn’t, I misheard it and though someone was taking the piss out of my hat. You’ll see why in the pictures). The smell of human excrement wafted amongst the shanty-town hutongs and mixed with the smells of barbequing lamb and baking bread. It really was quite a smell.

Beyond the smell were the sights. As our hostel was but an aborted female baby’s throw from Tiananmen, we started there. It’s a square. It is big. Not much else to say really apart from the fact that it was swarming with hawkers trying to sell all sorts of tat (Chairman Mao’s Little Red Book, Chairman Mao watches, Chairman Mao scarves, Chairman Mao’s Little Book of Loving etc etc). Some even went so far as to impart art student personas upon themselves and try and force us to go to “Art Exhibitions” where, according to Lonely Planet we weren’t so tired as to follow them, they try to sell you hugely overpriced “art”. These people did not leave us alone for the majority of the trip, so much so that I made several friends; Buy Now, Real Cheap and Fuck You.

The highlights in Beijing were the Great Wall and the Summer Palace. The Forbidden City was nice, but there are only so many temples and halls one can take. The Summer Palace is exactly what it sounds like; a retreat for fat Emperors hoping the summer air would aid erection. As we went in winter, the huge manmade lake in the centre of it all was completely frozen over with lots of mad Chinese skating around on it like so many lobotomised ice skating people.

The Great Wall, or at least the section we visited, was an hour’s drive from the city. Rather than taking one of the extortionate tours (280 RMB=nearly £20) we got there by ourselves using the extreme cunning we had developed from avoiding Beijing’s infestations of art students. In the end, it cost us 7 RMB each way (about 50p). Once there, we were suitably impressed. Several times while walking along the 15km long section I would stare out at the scenery, imagining a Mongol hoard screaming through the bracken in a bloodlust. In fact, the only Mongolians present were the ones avidly trying to sell me pashminas. After trekking more than the 15km (the entrance was in the middle of the section, forcing us to retrace our steps if we wanted to see the other end) we were absolutely knackered, the cold had numbed and blistered my lips and we wanted to go home.

This was probably my one real experience with bartering. I had seen a lot of Chinese people wearing rather spiffy greatcoats and decided I wanted in on the action. Sure enough, several of the tourist stalls were selling them. The first person I enquired with gave us a price of 150 RMB (£10) but worked herself down to 80 as we walked off. The second offered us an initial price of 580 RMB (well over £40) and I must say I stood a little gobsmacked. She insisted that the other vendor must have said $80. Bollocks. Anyway, there was no way I was going to pay that must for a coat worth less than my dodgy hat so we made to leave. The lady in the store wasn’t having it. After several minutes bartering, and several actual attempts to leave by myself, we got her down to 130 RMB, just less than a tenner. So I said OK and felt rather proud of my bartering skills. Of course, I should have been watching her more closely as she put it into a bag. When we got home we realised she’d swapped the perfectly serviceable coat I’d tried on with one who’s buttons were so mismatched as to make it basically unwearable. The cow.

Ni Hao.

Well, it’s that time of year again! Time that I bid you my festive farewells before I bugger off to somewhere untouched by the gentle fingers of Yuletide joy. Sort of, it appears the hostel we are staying in for Xmas is doing a load of stuff, parties and the like, on Christmas day so I still get to enjoy the season.

Just a quick bye bye this time as I have to get packed and head down to Hannah’s in preparation for an early start tomorrow but rest assured that I miss everyone back home and really do wish you the best possible Christmas and the happiest of Happy New Years. Let not the Golden Ball go empty, my friends!

I shall leave you with this; my entry into a recent “Favourite Christmas Memory” survey/competition thing:

Picture the scene, if you will. The year is 1998, the Millennium minus 2. December. The wind is blowing icicle chills through anyone caught outside, as it carries the faint tinkle of Christmas songs through the air. On the horizon the low bulk of a concrete shopping centre stands firm against the chill, the water cascading from its roof in a steady stream of wet ice.

Inside is a different story. Instead of icicles here is tinsel instead; no wind, but smells of mince pies and mulled wine drift sleepily. Shoppers go about their business with the hushed fervour that signifies the Shopping Days to Christmas are almost no more. Lone fathers prowl the toy stores searching manically for this Season’s must have, mothers drag resisting children by the hand and old couples wander peacefully, gazing at the chaos that engulfs them.

Surrounded by this whirling maelstrom of consumerism stand a bold group, a dozen souls or so strong. Their stony silence and grim faced determination soon begins to spread, the crowd slowing its progress as the people turn their faces, reddened by the cold and the free brandy outside Superdrug, towards the small, tastefully shod ensemble.

Suddenly, a flash of light, a glint of metal; the group explodes in a flurry of activity. The crowd stand motionless, mouths agape as all of a sudden…music fills the air. A trumpet soars into the high octaves, the tuba and euphonium ring out a rhythm as regular as a clock, the flutes patter the air with high pitched staccato and the trombone roars combine the sounds into one, harmonic whole.

…

Five minutes later, two of them have fainted from lack of breath and the old couple, rather obviously drunk off their deerstalkers, won’t stop requesting Bing Crosby. The small group are paid in doughnuts from the local Burtons and as they wander back to the High School with rapidly developing colds, escape plans are drawn...

Or something like that. My high school band used to play in the local shopping centre every Christmas and I’ll always remember those days as some of the best I ever had there. Not only would we get a whole half-day off school, we would indeed get free (or at least reduced) doughnuts and pastry from the Burtons we’d set up outside of and the crowds we’d attract would often get intimidatingly large. So, more of an occasion than a memory. However, my favourite time of all was when my brother, at this point on the Alto Sax, did actually pass out from lack of breath. I got to go home early! At high school!

Best. Day. Ever.

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 18^th, 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.

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.

Embittered

I’ve got into a habit of writing these entries, forgetting about them and posting them up on the blog at almost the precise moment they lose relevancy. A bit like the UK government then. Maybe I should consider going in to politics, I’m lazy enough.

So, this is the entry where I pour great steaming heaps on disappointment on you all; I won’t be returning to Britain any time soon. I’ve decided that, because of my limited time here and the fact that when I return home Tony Blair is not going to let me (or anyone) leave those hallowed shores ever again, I should make the most of my time here. So, I’ll be heading off to China for 2 weeks, more specifically to Beijing, Shanghai and Xi’an (where all those terracotta solders are kept).

I know many will be thunderstruck by this news, and many others will simply not hear about it as this blog must now be reaching less people than Steve Irwin, but I’m afraid the rainy, scum ridden, expensive, US-pandering, freedom hating, racist streets of Britain were just edged out by the home of one of the most ancient civilisations on Earth and the many ridiculously cheap attractions contained therein. Sure it’s Communist, but after looking at today’s UK from a distance I’ve come to realise the Chinese could be a lot worse off.

You may have noticed from that last paragraph that I’ve become somewhat disenchanted with the country of my birth. Well, sort of. I really do recommend that everyone who reads this and who hasn’t done so already takes a few months off and lives in a country outside of Britain. Any country, it doesn’t matter. It changes your perception radically. While living in England, I knew that everything was more expensive here and that the government had long since stopped acting for the people. I knew that the British populace were often considered mean, rude and miserable by the international community (although I couldn’t see that at the time). But I thought of places in far off climes and said to myself…well, it could be worse.

Of course that all changed after about 2 weeks in Japan. Even now, when traditions I first thought were quaint have brought me to the brink of insanity, nothing here has made me pine for the grassy hills of home. I miss the people back in England, I really do, and as it’s coming up to Christmas I’ll miss the atmosphere of the place (but again, that’s mainly down to family and friends) but the country itself…I’m incredibly glad to be shot of the place, even if it is only temporary.

Possibly the aspect that gets my goat the most are the prices we pay. Japan is a country that was not built with humans in mind. 70% of the place is taken up with huge impassable mountains that only the most hardy of sheep would dare ascend. They have zero natural resources over here, none; they import it all. But still, the 120 million people they have here manage to get by. Not only get by, but also in most cases get by comfortably. This is probably because the price of consumables over here is reasonable. Not cheap, but reasonable. Compared to the prices infesting the UK though, they might as well be free. I don’t pretend to know all the politics behind it, why it is the UK government charges us 17.5% VAT while the Japanese government gets by on 5% consumer tax, but I know that I can get all the food I need for a week for £20. In Leeds that would barely last me 2 days. I know that my car insurance is not going to cost me as much as my house does every month, because some statistic from the 70s said that people under 25 can’t drive. I know that flights out of the country will not induce a 3-year saving plan. I know that my wage will not be cut in half by taxes to be spent on red tape and administration.

I could go on and on (and I have) but I’ll stop ranting now. As it is, I’m having a good old time over here at the moment, with a long weekend on the horizon and someone special to spend it with.

Next time: The 7 reasons I hate you and your family.

Scratch

This one's a bit old but I thought I'd post it up anyway! More complaining ahoy!

I use this blog more as a virtual scratching post more than anything. I do apologise about that but, well, it is my blog.

Went to the Shaken place yesterday to see what was going on. They told me that the procedure would cost 90000 yen (about £450) which is oddly enough what I’d hoped for. Got to go back on Monday to actually get it done and find out what needs repairing. Apparently the repairs they might suggest are just that; suggestions. Apart from a few serious problems it’s entirely up to you whether you repair them or not.

Another fun meeting with one of my JTEs a few minutes ago. Yesterday we decided to embark on a new adventure. We decided that, for once, we would let the students think. I usually take my lesson plan topics for Oral Communication lessons from the text book the other teachers use when I am not in a lesson. Now these things are awful, terrible books that not only do not teach English but sometimes get it plain wrong. An example, from the current book:

“I have a dream of becoming a dentist.”

While grammatically correct (sort of) I would never, ever utter that phrase in conversation. “I dream of becoming a dentist” maybe, but that still sounds rather disjointed.

Now, the first few chapters of this book were easy to use as the themes of lesson plans; Holiday, directions, the telephone. But the 4^th chapter is titled “Would you like an extra blanket?” and is about…nothing. Well no, it’s actually about how to ask for an extra blanket and some more nuts on an airplane. So, I went to my teacher yesterday (about 10 minutes after I was supposed to be at my second school as the said teacher had disappeared for 40 minutes) and told her I couldn’t make a plan out of this chapter. So we decided to do more on the previous topic, the telephone. As far as I was concerned we had decided to, for once, let the kids actually use the English they’d “learnt” and spend the lesson constructing their own telephone conversations from the Key Phrases I’d given them the lesson before.

Today, she saunters up to me and asks to see the worksheet I’ve prepared for today’s lesson. “I’m sorry?” I stutter. “For the lesson today, did you make a worksheet?” I remind her that only the day before we had decided to let the kids work in groups this lesson, we had decided to let them use their brains. “But I thought you were going to make a worksheet for that?” I patiently explain that the Key Phrases are on the worksheet I did last week that the kids still have, and that we agreed yesterday that we’d suggest a few topics for the conversations on the board. Of course, this totally confuses her. “Well, their English level is very low…” Ignoring the fact that she’s now completely forgotten about yesterday’s conversation, I tell her that this sort of thing is what I used to do in French lessons, and my level of French was never much higher than “low”. Still she looks nonplussed.

Then she moves on to the two English 1 classes I have today. Why I have two is still beyond me, my original lesson plan made at the start of this term clearly states that on Wednesdays I should only have one. Never mind. She asks me if I have any ideas. No clarification on what topic or subject I should broach, just “Do you have any ideas?” No, no I don’t. I have never planned these lessons, that’s been left up to the JTEs. They haven’t been doing a very good job lately, most lessons end up in me playing cards with the students. I’m not entirely sure why the JTEs can’t organise these lessons considering all the lessons they do without me are taken straight from the terrible textbooks.

Then she asks if I have any activities involving the past tense. Oh yes, just let me find them… Grammar points are almost impossible to make into any activity that isn’t excruciatingly dull and luckily they usually leave the grammar stuff to the lessons not involving me. Not this time. She says we’ll discuss it in the period before the lesson, you know, when I’ve got all of 45 minutes to put something together.

I despair I really do. The Japanese education system, at least regarding English, has possibly the worst attitude towards the students that I’ve ever come across. They’re treated like unthinking drones incapable of retaining even the most basic knowledge. Any creative thought or input is actively discouraged. Learn this. Memorise this. Say this, then. “I’m fine, and you?” But to be honest, that’s exactly what my students are like. Whether this is due to the students themselves or the way they are treated from the very beginnings of their education is a distinction crying out for research.

Well, I just had the “thinking” class and amazingly enough it went very well. The students actually thought about what they were doing in their groups (well, most of them) and the conversations they came up with were actually pretty good. The atmosphere was really good too.

I suppose that answers the nature or nurture question I had before…

Kevin Carter

Well, I paid enough for it so here are some pictures I took with my new fancy camera. They're not much good at the mo as I'm still getting the hang of the settings! Click for a bigger version (the bigger version were scaled down by me as blogger wouldn't accept them. The ones here are 25% of the original size!)
The Hikawa dam and resevoir, as seen on my way to work.


The village of Izumi, again close to one of my schools.

Who is this handsome beast eh?

Juxtaposition

These last 2 weeks have been a mix of the really bad and the really good. Most of my time has been concerned with the really bad, but when has that ever not been the case?

I sent my car to the mechanics the week before last. They told me that they’d need to replace a few suspension bolts and that the price for said maintenance would be about 50000 yen (£250). It could’ve been worse. Cut to the weekend before last. I arrive at the mechanics and they tell me they’ve managed to fix it without replacing the parts. Great. The price is substantially cheaper; reasonable even. So, I drive away. 5 minutes later I’m back. The problem hasn’t been fixed at all, the noise is still there. After 30 minutes of mucking around they tell me the part will need to be replaced after all, but they can let me drive home as the problem isn’t serious. They will try and get rid of the noise temporarily. After 40 minutes, they come back and tell me that, actually, the noise is gone and unless it comes back I should be OK. Fine.

Cut to this weekend just gone. I had a lovely weekend with Hannah doing not much at all, and the stress of the last week was finally dissipating. The typhoon we had on Sunday had seemingly left my car untouched and I drove home on Tuesday morning after the bank holiday Monday. As I turn in to my parking space, a glint of light catches my eye. I am drawn to the windscreen where I find…a fucking huge crack. Seems the typhoon left me a little present…again. That’s two typhoons I’ve been through, and two car windows smashed. I go mental for about ten minutes before phoning in sick for work and driving back to the city I’d just come from to pay the Audi mechanics another visit.

Of course the whole front windscreen needs to be replaced. The good news is that they have a shipment of glass replacements arriving today, the 20^th. The bad news is it’s going to cost me £400. I am fucking livid. With the mandatory MOT type thing coming up next month and the repair costs for the suspension, this means I’ve spent about £50 shy of £1000 on my car in two months.

What pisses me off the most is that the cars I was parked next to during the typhoon were left completely unscratched. Nothing on them. But for some fucking reason my windscreen was cracked for the second time in a row under these conditions. I knew these few months would be expensive with the MOT and stuff but this is ridiculous. The car is turning into a money pit. What’s worse is that I know, just fucking know, that the suspension noise is going to come back, probably sooner rather than later. The MOT will no doubt spring a whole other spate of problems I need to get fixed on me and the cost of those, on top of the needlessly extortionate £450 it’s going to cost to get said MOT, is going to mean money, for the first time in almost a year and a half, is going to be a worry.

For a while after I discovered the cracked windscreen I was seriously considering getting the car repaired, getting the MOT and then selling it. To be honest, I still am. The guy who had it before said he had no problems with it (and I believe him, I still know him and he’s a very honest chap) but me, as soon as I buy the fucker, am overloaded with the things. I know for a fact one of the ALTs in the city is getting a new car so his K car (small car with an engine of 660cc) will be going cheap, if not for free. It’s very very tempting. I think I’ll see how the MOT goes. If the results are bad then I may have to sell up.

Bugger

Oh dear. My car’s gone a bit buggered, like. I drove down to Hannah’s on Sunday and the mysterious creaking I’d heard coming from the front left wheel changed into a sort of grinding, squealing noise. Obviously this made me a bit nervous. Once I’d gotten to the city I decided that I didn’t want to risk further damage (to myself or the car) and left it at Hannah’s apartment, getting the train and tram home and resolving to walk to work for the next week. Hopefully Froilan (a 4^th year who moved to Kumamoto city from Yatsushiro) will help me take it to the Audi dealership in the city sometime this weekend. I’m just praying it’s not going to cost too much L

At the moment there are several money sapping prospects running through my mind. First up is the mandatory; shaken for my car. This is a sort of MOT that must be done every two years and for white plates (aka bigger cars like mine) it can cost anywhere from 90 – 160 000 yen (£400 – 800). Apparently one of the Yats ALTs known a mechanic so hopefully my costs will be on the lower end of that scale.

Then there’s the…ahem…luxury stuff. It’s over a week since I ordered the new camera from the Itos. Now, I don’t regret ordering the camera but it is quite a lot of money (link ) and when I ordered it I didn’t know that I’d have potential car repair costs hanging over my head (no excuse about the shaken though, I knew that was coming).

Well, it’s too late to retract the order (even if I wanted to, and I don’t really) so hopefully the car is not going to cost too much to fix. Hmm.

...

God dammit. It’s my first day back at work, a day on which I have been told several times, once before the holidays and once again this morning, that there would be no lessons. But they’ve found one for me from fucking somewhere. It’s not a lesson that’s on my regular timetable for Mondays so it’s not just a case of the exams today finishing early. It appears that one of the JTEs has had one of her lessons for tomorrow brought forward to today, a lesson which I would not usually participate in, but she’s decided to rope me in to it anyway. I cannot express how annoying this is, I really can’t.

It’s the look they give you when you tell them you were under the impression there would be no lessons today. They look as if you’ve just told them you smear shit on yourself and go by the name Lord Pooface of Stevenson at the weekends; one of complete incomprehension. They can’t grasp, even though I’ve been told today that I have no lesson, that one appearing out of nowhere should be a surprise. And the gap they gave me between telling about the lesson and the lesson itself? 10 minutes. For God’s sake. It’s my first lesson in almost 2 months as well. I’d been building myself up to go to the lesson tomorrow; I was a bit nervous as it’s been so long. Of course, all that’s been thrown to the wind now. 10 fucking minutes notice. God dammit I’m pissed off. I’m not even needed! It’s a plain old boring repeat after the teacher lesson that is simple for both teacher and student. But for some reason in 5 minutes time I’ve got to get up in front of a class and pretend I’m happy to be teaching them. This had better be a one off…

Over

The holiday’s are over it seems. My actual holiday, the last week, have been Ok. I decided to go to a few places on Kyushu, Kagoshima and Fukuoka mainly, and my trips were nice. It was quite odd going on holiday alone, the first time I’ve ever done so, and I must say that I prefer travelling with others. Not that I was lonely, but there’s only so long you can go without having anyone to talk to.

I decided to invest in a new camera too. I figured I’d treat myself as I hadn’t really spent any money on the trips (or at least no serious amounts of money) so I opted for the new Canon Digital SLR (one of the big chunky ones for the uninitiated, as I was last week). Through the local host family, who own a camera shop, I was able to order it for a great deal less than the street price and I’ll get it two days before it’s officially released on the 8^th. Score. I’ll put up any and all photos I take that are any good. Not many then.

Let’s see, what else has happened? Well I’ve met the new guys properly. They’re all great as far as I can see. Lien (or Lynne as she prefers) is very lively and happy and easy to talk to. The married couple are cool too, Nathan being the more talkative of the two. Rachael is possibly the quietest person I’ve ever met but she’s lovely. There’s a few I haven’t met yet, Carlo down in Toyo village and Geoffrey and Aashima who are in Yats. I’ve heard various things about them all, ranging from the good to the not so good. We’ll see.

As lovely as they are, it seems that none of them are really party people. I didn’t expect them all to be Shaun Ryder’s but they don’t really seem the sort of people who will join you for a casual drink on a Saturday night. I could be wrong, and I hope I am, it’s still very much a hectic period for all of them, but as nice as they all are they don’t seem to be that sort of people. And that’s fine, they obviously came to Japan for other, perhaps more admirable reason than to go out drinking with other gaijins but it does make me realise how much I miss the old guys and the fun I was having this time last year.

Shakesy

It’s gotten hot. Oh yes, very much so. And quickly too. Yesterday I had forgotten the power lead to the laptop and as compiling the lovely picture blog below had taken so much out of it, I needed to return home and collect said piece of wire. Unfortunately, my car was running rather low on petrol at that point. So, I decided to walk. It didn’t look too rainy outside, indeed some of the clouds were shifting to reveal actual sunlight. Of course, by the time I’d stepped out all of the clouds were gone and the temperature and humidity had shot through the roof. The 10 minute walk left me covered in sweat and extremely uncomfortable. Urgh.

Another slow day today so far. It’s not been so bad actually as learning Japanese has turned out to be, gasp, interesting. Difficult sure, but interesting. I’m also trying to keep my hand in with the whole writing thing. I’m doing a sort of autobiographical doohicky at the mo, one that I’ve been dabbling in and out of for a while now. It’s OK I suppose, a nice way to cross nostalgia with creativity, or at least what small amount of creativity I now possess, my mind having been dulled by sushi and green tea. It’s a sort of seat of the pants thing (in method rather than subject) as I’m just writing stuff down and sorting out little things like continuity and temporal order later. I’ve got sort of a flashback thing going at the moment and it actually seems to work. Tense has been something of a problem but I solved that by writing everything in the first-person present perfect. I am rather anxious to see what an independent observer would think of it, yet am too embarrassed to share. Damn my vanity.

It's also nice to know that people are still reading this blog, all two of you. Yay!

A Day In The Life

I’ve been wanting to do a photo blog for a while now but have always forgotten to take my camera to work. Well, as everyone is far less busy now, thanks to the summer “holiday” I thought it might be an opportune time to walk everyone through my average day. Strap yourselves in, it’s a wild, wild ride (click on the images for larger versions):


I usually wake up at about 7.30 to be confronted with this. I made sure the camera didn’t catch most of the floor as I don’t want my mother to have a heart attack. Anyway, I usually check my emails in a bleary eyed way before forgetting to get ready and rushing about at the last minute. Interesting fact: there is a huge tapir just out of shot. His name is Marilyn.


This is my personal Life Support System. If I could have it fixed up intravenously I would. It’s also my clock; by the time the jug is full I know I’m probably 5 minutes late for work. Interesting fact; I stole that fridge from a tramp.


And this is how I get to work. A tragic waste of money spent on petrol, as my school is only a 15 minute walk away but I paid good money for Sally here and I may as well get my yen’s worth. Not sure why this picture is so foggy, it’s actually rather sunny today. Interesting fact: the yellow square on the floor is a designated spot for gay flogging.


My school. The first view I get of it as I arrive. It looks pretty rubbish here and again I don’t know why it looks so miserable. My amazing camera skills perhaps. Interesting fact: the bike shed pictured is made out of moles.


My desk. About as tidy as my apartment. That Tropicana bottle has been there for several months and I can’t even remember when I brought that thermo-flask thing in. Notice the stack of books on the left and realise that this is what I do for 85% of my time. Interesting fact: my desk has a border signifying it as British territory.


The staff room, or my view of it anyway. See? I’m not the only one with a messy desk. Interesting fact, there were 6 teachers in shot, but none of them came out in the photo. Spooky.


And this is what I plan to do with my summer. My Japanese is still pretty bad. I can understand a lot of what’s said, but actually constructing my own sentences is another thing. I thought the title was rather ironic so there’s the comedy aspect too. Interesting fact; most Japanese people learn Japanese from this book.


The inside. This is the main section of the staffroom block. I don’t actually do any teaching here as all the classrooms are either science, music or computer based. Interesting fact, a Shinto curse means the ghosts of naughty tapir regularly wander between the seating areas.


That’s better. The view of the second building from one of the connecting bridges. Interesting fact, pixies live in that tree, emerging only to hurl books and expletives at me.


The front of school. The 1st floor is the staff room and the ground floor is the school office. Doesn’t get much more exciting that that! Oh, and there’re palm trees too. Two of them. Interesting fact; there are no monkeys in this picture.


Ah, my labour of love. This is my rather pathetic World Cup English display looking forlorn and welting in the heat. Notice my amazing art skills that make the display difficult to read even for a native speaker. Also notice the large amounts of Japanese written by an English teacher so that the students knew what the hell I was on about. To be fair to myself, most of it has either fallen off or been taken down by this point but part of me just can’t bear to throw the rest of it away. Interesting fact; one student scrawled “Piss off home” across my first attempt.


Ah, teachers. I fooled them into posing for this by telling them I was dying, that’s why they look so happy. The one on the right is Kudo-sensei, my tantousha (supervisor) and the one on the left is, well I’m not entirely sure. I will call him Phillip. Hello Phillip! Interesting fact; Phillip is performing the ancient Japanese hand signal known as Ryoshomon. It indicates that this particular person hates Winston Churcill.


Half an hour into the day the laptop’s out and I’m playing Sonic 2 with the sound off. Interesting fact: Sonic 2 is regarded by many as the best English teaching tool ever created.


Two hours in and I’m watching hardcore porn with the sound on. I’ve pixellated the movie for those with sensitive dispositions. Interesting fact: I was once told to turn the sound up as the geography teacher couldn’t hear it.


Today, I read this book quite a lot. Lord knows how many times I’ve actually finished it, but it’s probably a few too many. It really is one of my favourite books of recent years, and I have no idea why. It reminds me of 6th Form College but by all accounts that should not be a good thing. Interesting fact; during 6th Form College I aged 4 times faster than normal. I am now 28.


This is how bored I am by 3.20pm; I made a calendar collage. As you can see, I have much more penned in for August than July. Most of those are holidays though. Interesting fact; the JET calendar is not given, but must be won in a gladiatorial arena type event.


This is the ceiling above my desk. I get paid quite a lot of money to stare at this spot for hours every day. Interesting fact; strip lighting was invented by the band Men Without Hats.


My desk has got progressively messier over the course of the day. I’m too bored to do anything about it at this point. Interesting fact: mumblemumble zzzzzzzzzzz…


This is the blurred picture of my foot my camera took as it fell from my unconscious fingers. Interesting fact; I was asleep for three hours.

All in all, one of my more eventfull days.