Failing At...

Dinner!

Now this is not necessarily a Japan-specific failure, my cooking skills tend to end with the microwave, but this failure is taken to whole other level when you: a) have no microwave and b) are forced to cook with totally unfamiliar ingredients.

And yes, it is true I could buy lovely Western ingredients, but then again I’m not going to be that guy paying what essentially amounts to an Asshat Gaijin tax because I need to buy expensive Western ingredients, when I could just learn to live like a local. And besides, I’m in Japan, I’m eating/cooking Japanese food goddamnit.

But I must say, I’ve had some pretty spectacular failures.

First and most basically, is my failure at conquering the temperamental bitch known as Japanese style rice. I’ve yet to get it cooked properly. It’s either crispy and cemented to the bottom of the pot or it is a sloshy soup-like consistency. I really need to buy a rice cooker quick considering I’m in the land where rice goes with breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Second is the fact that I’m just a total shit cook with no patience, and that has nothing to do with the ingredients I’m working with. I just assume that everything is as simple as I think it must be. Need to cook a hamburger? Why just throw it in a pan and fry it of course! If you don’t mind burned outsides and totally raw insides. Need to make tempura chicken? Batter it and throw it in lukewarm oil so the batter falls off and melds to the bottom of the pan!

Third is the fact that I can’t read the directions on the back of the box, and clearly me and the person who makes the illustrations are on totally different wavelengths, because they’re not worth dick in helping me make a decent meal.

Thankfully, for whatever reason, Spam is popular here in Okinawa. Yes, I bought my first can of Spam the other day out of curiosity (desperation), and it actually wasn’t half bad.

I’m not kidding.

I don’t want to make it a regular thing, but when your cooking skills equal zero, you can’t read directions, and you don’t have the time to waste an hour and a half cooking a meal for one, Spam starts to look pretty appetizing.

Yet somehow, inexplicably, I think I’m gaining weight. I can’t believe it. I really don’t want to have to start exercising.

I certainly don’t have the time to both cook a meal and exercise all in one day.

So, Why Did You Come To Japan??

Here’s a question I’m asked constantly, and while I suppose it’s a legitimate question, it really does make me want to punt a kitten whenever it’s asked of me.

Whenever it’s asked of me, I think my face just goes blank. Then I stare the person in the eyes and calmly say, “Stop fishing for conversation and ask an intelligent question you fucking predictable dunce.”

OK, I don’t. But my eye twitches as I’m forced to hold back that natural response and fulfill my part of the social contract, as I answer with some light and trivial bullshit. Because let’s face it, the person who asks that question is likely a total assclown and won’t listen to any serious answer anyway.

But, as I said, I suppose it is a legitimate question, so I suppose it deserves a legitimate answer.

And like most questions like this, I really didn’t start thinking about an answer until I was already here. And very likely, my answer will change even after I’ve left.

I think I’m here because I see this as the Last Hoorah before effectively ending my life and going to Medical School. Once medical school begins, any spontaneity my life had, or could have had, is ended. Permanently, until maybe retirement. But by the time I retire, I may have the money to do all sorts of cool spontaneous things, but I will be missing something even more important: My Youth.

Which brings me to point two: I came to Japan as a Last Hoorah of my Youth. Not to be dramatic or anything. But really, I will be pissing away the best years of my life in medical school. The years when I have the most energy, am the most attractive, and can generally get anything I want. This is my only opportunity to be both young and (relatively) rich. It is the last time I’ll have no responsibilities, no expenses besides what I choose to spend my money on, and the youth, energy, and time to have a healthy social life.

Reason three: This is likely my last chance to spend any extended period of time abroad. After this, the realities of life demand that I settle down. That’s just the way it is. It’s a little difficult to establish a career, not to mention a career in medicine if you’re constantly moving.

So really, the bottom line is that Japan is my last chance to be young, stupid and fun, and I honestly can’t think of a better place to get it all out of my system. This is the society that pretty much invented escapism after all.

It’s going to be a year of pure hedonism and though most JETs save quite a bit of money in their time here, I plan on going back just as poor as I arrived. I will consider it a personal failure if I leave having saved any substantial amount of money, as it will be money that should have been spent getting trashed and doing my damndest to have a good drunken time. And besides, what will I need money for when I get back? I’ll be living on loans and taking out a cool 400K in loans (that’s right folks), so I don’t thinking having an extra 10K is going to improve my standard of living too much.

This year of hedonism needs to make up for the next 12 or so of pure shit. That’s a tall order, and you can imagine the unspeakable deeds that need to be accomplished to achieve such a goal.

Obviously I have lots of specific things I want to do, see, and be a part of, but it all basically comes back to those three main points.

So there, that’s why I came to Japan. Clearly not the kind of answer that should be tossed around during trivial, get-to-know-you conversation.

Hey! You Know What?! I'm In Japan!

So, there I was slaving away over blog posts the other day, listening to a Japanese band on my iPhone, when it suddenly dawned on me…

Holy Shit, I’m in Japan!

Like, I’m actually here! Sitting in the US watching youtube videos or listening to Japanese bands, it all seemed so far away, but I only recently made the connection of ‘Hey! I can go see those things on a weekend trip if I wanted to! I can go see these bands perform LIVE if I wanted to! I can get my Host fix IN PERSON if I want!’

Everything moved so fast and I’ve been so focused on surviving and adjusting that only now have I had the state of mind to have that epiphany.

For whatever reason the whole ‘not understanding anything’ thing or ‘wow everyone looks the same, and I look nothing like them’ thing didn’t bring home that point that I’m in Japan.

Then I also realized I’m not just here on vacation, I’m here for a year, and honestly, that made me panic a little bit.

Then next thing I did was find out if any bands would be playing in Okinawa. Naturally, my selection is quite limited, because think about it—How many bands in the U.S include Hawaii on their tour?

Though I found one who I have heard of; MUCC. They play here in December, and while not my first choice, I’ll settle. Because there is no way I’m leaving Japan without seeing a visual kei-ish band perform live. And I may just go to see random bands at the live house, just because I can.

Or what I am also thinking about doing is planning my trips to mainland cities to coincide with a band I really would like to see. You know, be a desperate groupie.

But I can do that, because I’m in Japan.

Failing At...

This is the beginning of another series of posts.

Get excited!

However, unlike the Pop posts, these will not be posted on a regular day, more like whenever I feel like it. But I have like 7 lined up already, so.

OK then, onwards!

Today’s “Failing at…” is Failing at Literacy.

I like to think I don’t take too many things for granted, but after being in Japan for a while I am quickly realizing how much I took my literacy (and ability to communicate, in general) for granted.

I can try to explain it, and I hate to say it, but unless you’ve experienced it, you really can’t understand.

You don’t realize it until you are forced to function like a baby, but there really isn’t a single daily activity that doesn’t require reading.

I need to bring my mail to teachers to read and tell me what to do with it. I need to play culinary Russian Roulette when grocery shopping. I need to bring a teacher with me to fill out even the most mundane paperwork. I need to play Simon says and simply follow the motions of the person in front of me when boarding any form of public transportation.

And it’s true, half the stuff around me I don’t really need to understand; I could certainly live my life just fine in the U.S without reading billboards or the sides of buses or advertisements, but just staring at them and their having absolutely no meaning to me is similar to losing one of my senses. I’m looking, knowing it should mean something to me, but it may as well be a blank piece of paper.

On the flip side, when I can read something (and understand the gist of it) the feeling is better than having an orgasm while eating the top part of a cupcake.

Thankfully the Japanese pride themselves on their language and like to assume no foreigner brain can wrap itself around it, so my total lack of language ability is expected and usually met with a ‘Oh, silly Gaijin’ smile.

Part of that is insulting, because (and I am guilty of this in the US) it’s assumed that just because the person can’t fully speak the language of a country, this person is an idiot not to be taken seriously. Yet you tend to forget that this same person can function just fine in the home country, and in fact may be quite educated and respected in his/her home country, and may be, I don’t know, let’s say an accepted medical school applicant, for example.

Hypothetically speaking of course.

But if you’re going to be an illiterate asshole who needs his coworkers to fill out paperwork to get his hot water turned on, you damn well better check your pride at the customs counter.

On Public Transportation in Okinawa (not Japan)

Everyone knows Japan has one of the best public transportation systems the world over.

And, like most other things, what applies to mainland Japan does not apply to Okinawa.

(Read: Okinawa public transportation is pretty much the most inconvenient excuse for public transportation this side of the rickshaw.)

First off, let’s start with just getting to this spec of land in the middle of the Pacific. There’s only one real way, and that is to fly. Shinkansen don’t run to Okinawa folks.

Or you could take a ferry from Tokyo to Naha. If you like a medieval traveling time of nearly 2 days.

Flying takes about 3 hours (To Tokyo), and will set you back at least $200. So you better make your trips to the mainland count.

Once here, getting around the island relying on public transportation is pretty much an expensive bitch and a half.

The only way around the entire island are the buses which are never on time and sporadic.

In Naha you have a few other options.

There’s taxis that charge an automatic 500 yen just for stepping through the automatic back door (which is admittedly cool, but not that cool).

But wait!

Naha also has the wonderful monorail!

It has exactly two cars per train, a capacity of like 60, moves at about 20 mph, and has a total distance of something like 8 miles! And this was just opened in 2003, so I have no idea what people did before then.

Plus it’s crazy expensive and most of the stations are within walking distance from each other.

In short it feels like a ride at Disney World (which has a cooler monorail, by the way), but it probably beats walking in Okinawa heat.

Barely.

Maybe.

If you’re really drunk.

However, don’t blame the Japanese for this public transportation SNAFU.

Blame the United States. Yup.

Okinawa was basically a U.S colony until the 1970’s (the currency of Okinawa was the U.S dollar until 1972, despite being part of Japan. Crazy!) meaning that like the rest of the U.S, people relied mainly on cars for transportation, and the U.S was not about to invest in a public transportation in Okinawa.

So there you have it, the U.S spreading its total lack of support for public transportation across the Pacific.

If you ever thought macro government policies and decisions had no effect on the individual, even in other countries, think again.

I’m reminded of it every time I spend $15 on a five minute cab ride, despite being in the country where 200 mph trains arrive at their destinations on time to the second.

By The Way...

I found out some interesting ‘Oh, by the ways…’ about my apartment today.

I knew immediately when I saw the head tilt from my supervisor that what I was about to hear was going to be about as pleasant as a prison gang rape with sandpaper condoms.

First let me digress and let you know when a Japanese person is about to give you bad news/say something they know will be inflammatory.

First is the previously mentioned head tilt. This is somewhat difficult to describe. It is the same type of head tilt a confused dog does, but it is a faster back and forth motion . And it is almost always accompanied by the sharp inward breath between the teeth.

And that’s when you brace yourself.

First was “By the way, rent will be automatically withdrawn from your bank account on the 20th.”

“OK, when is payday?”

*Previously mentioned bad news sound/action* “The 21st”.

“…...”

“OK, well I won’t have enough money in my bank account (which was accompanied by a ‘What the fuck are you gonna do about it’ laugh.”

Then he tries to explain to me the fees that will be involved for every day that I’m late, etc, etc.

Then I continue to explain that there’s not a damn thing that can be done about it. If these real-estate (which is a hilarious word to hear a Japanese person say, by the way) companies want to charge several months rent, deposit, key money, insurance money, etc due immediately upon signing the contract, then collect rent 3 weeks later, I’ve got news for them.

They can go fuck themselves. They’ll get the rent a day or two late.

Once I explained this to my supervisor (with my own head tilt of course), he then paused, and did the head tilt, teeth thing, and eyes closed.

I knew insult was about to be added to injury.

“Also, you know the landlord has a key to your apartment and can enter whenever he wants. You know, if he or the neighbors think something is suspicious.”

While I took this primarily as a roundabout Japanese way of saying, “Don’t do anything stupid in your apartment.”, it bothered me for several reasons.

First, I’m paying way too much rent to be treated like I live in a college freshman dorm. Second, I really hope this is a policy for everyone in the building, and not just some made up Gaijin clause. And third, before I leave my apartment I’m always going to be checking to make sure everything is clean and presentable should my landlord decide to break in.

I don’t want to be judged, OK?

But seriously. That’s some bullshit, by the way.

Pop Culture Tuesdays IX

In last week’s Pop Post, I hope you came away with at least a little appreciation for the Host Club and the crazy social rules which govern it.

But more importantly, I hope you came away with an appreciation for their badass hair.

Now, when you saw their hair, surely you thought to yourself, “I would love to be able to do my hair like that, if only I knew how. If only there was some sort of tutorial!”

Well, I’m here to answer your prayers.

Please take detailed notes as Ryoma, a Host among Hosts, male model, and general badass, shows you how to achieve the epitome of tasteless tackiness known as Host hair.

Did you watch the video in its entirety? If you did, shame on you. Seriously. Even I can't stand watching more than a minute or two; he's like a male, Japanese version of Paris Hilton (I still haven't decided whether that's good or bad).

Tokyo: Loud. Electronic. Ferocious.

How to describe the world’s largest city in one word?

Overwhelming. Tokyo is absolutely overwhelming (and over the top) in every way.

The amount of people. The size. The pace. The traffic. The public transport. The flashing shit.

I’m not exactly from bumblefuck Indiana, mind you, and even for me, Tokyo struck me as a city out of control.

Depending on how you handle such things, upon seeing the insanity you may withdraw and stay in the safe hotel, or you will be pumped full of adrenaline, feeling like you’re high on coke trying to absorb everything around you.

I was thankfully(?) part of the latter category. However, I will say this, being in Tokyo for more than a week or two would have to exhausting. I love it, but I would never want to live there.

Along the same lines, Tokyo is not a pretty city by any definition or stretch of the imagination. It really has no skyline and no real central area; it is more of a giant sprawl with multiple central areas.

Tokyo is a city full of unbelievable energy, and it has something for everyone. If you’re looking for peaceful, inexplicably silent shrines in the heart of the city, Tokyo has it. If you want non-stop sounds and flashing lights, Tokyo has it. If you want any subculture under the sun, Tokyo has it. But as a cohesive whole, Tokyo doesn’t seem to work; it’s just too big.

A person could be in Tokyo for 10 days and not even see all of Shinjuku station, so imagine the spec of Tokyo a tourist has time to see. I’m guessing that a person could live their entire life in Tokyo and not see all of the city.

Anyway, on the nonstop sounds and flashing lights angle, here is a video montage of some video I shot around Shibuya, set to, what else, “Loud. Electronic. Ferocious.”




(I have no idea why the video cuts off like that, but until I get it fixed just pretend there's a legitimate ending.)

That’s how I choose to remember Tokyo: Loud. Electronic. Ferocious.

(I will be posting other videos to that youtube account, so check back often!)

On Tokyo Orientation

Let me get straight to the point and tell you what no one else wants to say: Tokyo Orientation is a huge waste of time, if you’re a JET going to Tokyo orientation, don’t spend your limited time in Tokyo going to vague, general meetings, go out and see Tokyo. God knows you’re likely placed no where near Tokyo and may not get the chance to see Tokyo again for a long, long time.

Now, some people will say, “This is your job, you are getting paid to be there, you should do the responsible and mature thing, and go to the meetings.” I would tend to agree with this, if the meetings had any use or value. But they don’t. Don’t let the guilt get to you, skip them and explore Tokyo.

JETs spend Sunday-Wednesday (morning) in Tokyo, make the most of it (read: don’t go to the meetings).

Let me explain a little further.

First, I would definitely suggest going to the opening ceremony, not only because they take attendance, but also because it will make you feel good. After that, don’t step foot back in the hotel until the next semi-mandatory meeting, your prefecture meeting. This meeting is actually important, as you find out when you’re leaving for your prefecture, how you’re getting there, and other useful information.

Throughout the day Monday and Tuesday are a series of workshops that you get to pick-and-choose from according to your interests, they do not take attendance at these meetings (hint hint). Though I was tricked on Monday by workshop titles that sounded useful, but Tuesday I learned my lesson.

In every session I went to Monday, the information was so vague and useless all I could think about was all of the action going on in the biggest city in the world, just outside the hotel, and there I was stuck listening about how to use chopsticks.

Which brings me to another reason why Tokyo Orientation is so useless: JET is definitely a learning-on-the-job type of job. And that includes learning how to use chopsticks. Sitting through a few 50 minute sessions is not going to make you instantly prepared. If you don’t speak Japanese, learning how to say ‘konnichiwa’ isn’t going to save your ass.

You may have noticed that I have not included Sunday on this schedule. That’s because it’s basically a lost day. JETs arrive sometime late Sunday afternoon, and no matter where you’re coming from, it’s a long flight. By the time you get to the hotel (around 7-8pm) you will have been up for at least 24 hours and the day is basically over. Unless you’re a true warrior, I would suggest getting settled, eating, and going to bed early to regain your strength for Monday’s, ahem, meetings.

Don’t listen to any lies you may have heard, attendance is only taken for two of the sessions (the two I mentioned), and no one is keeping track of your whereabouts. It’s a little difficult to keep track of 1000 people. If you feel nervous about walking through the lobby to ditch, here’s a hint—take the main tower elevator to floor two, turn right, walk out the door, and BAM! the underground tunnel to Shinjuku station, and your freedom.

And that’s where I stand on Tokyo Orientation.

Pop Culture Tuesdays VIII

Please excuse the Pop Culture hiatus; things got a little crazy leaving for, and arriving in Tokyo.

But I’m back now, and I promise to make up for it, as today’s topic is a topic near and dear to my heart:

The Host!

Although Hosts and Host Clubs are really more of a Sociological phenomenon than a Pop Culture phenomenon, Host Clubs are actually becoming much more mainstream, and some Hosts are actually minor celebrities.

I mean, with hair like this:


Can you be surprised that some become national celebrities?

Anyway, for those of you unfortunate enough to be ignorant of the Host Club scene, let me show you the shiny, big-haired, creepy-head-tilted posed light.

You see, it all began in the land of milk and honey known as Kubuki-cho, Tokyo. It was here, in the 1960’s that bored, rich, undersexed women spoke with their husbands’ money and demanded attention from strangers. These women just needed someone to talk to, to feel like an attractive woman again. Nevermind the fact that these guys who are way out of some middle-aged housewife’s league are getting paid to compliment her.

So the Host is essentially a friend/date/etc for sale. Officially, the Host does not offer sex, and most Hosts do try to avoid having sex with their clients as they claim that by having sex with a client the client will have achieved her ‘goal’, and the Host becomes useless. Whether the Hosts actually have sex with their clients is not really important, what is much more interesting is the fact that the Hosts have basically become objects and the romantic relationship is just another commodity.

For one of my final Sociology projects in college I did a formal presentation and report on the Host Club phenomenon, so this is a rare post where I actually feel like I know what I’m talking about. Anyway, I won’t bore you with specifics, but I basically took the position that Hosts (and their clients) must both understand the ‘rules of the game’ in order for the illusion of romance to be successful and for the commodity to be sold. In this way, both the host and client are ‘selling’ something. Obviously the hosts are selling their time, and the women are trying to sell themselves as being worthy of the hosts’ attention.

I also examined the way in which the Host has become a caricature of masculinity, and has basically adopted certain exaggerated characteristics which have somehow been determined to be masculine.

Anyway, the bottom line is that Host Clubs have turned something as intangible as romance into a very tangible commodity with a very real set of codified rules which govern it. If I had to choose just one ritual surrounding the Host Club to show to beginners and say, “Here, this sums up Host Clubs, this is what it’s about.”, it would be the Host Menu.

The Host Menu is a book with headshots of all of the hosts of a particular club, and when a new client walks in, she chooses her host based solely on his picture in this menu.

And if you take some time to reflect on all of the social rules and assumptions which are thrown out of the window because of that menu, then I think that is a good starting point for understanding the fucked up fun that is the Host Club.

I could write pages on Host Clubs, but I’ll stop here, but if this introduction has piqued your interest, here are some ways to get your Host Club fix:

The Great Happiness Space: A field-research-type documentary of a Host Club in Osaka. Here is the link to the trailer: Here!.

And a link to the movie’s site: Here!.

Finally, a Host Club site: Here!.

It’s in Japanese, but it’s not really a problem, and you can use Google translate anyway. Mainly useful for its eye candy.


Now go! Immerse yourself in the sleaze!