Rory Steele

RoryView: Drag Me To Hell

2009-05-25T16:52:00.000+01:00

Ode to Spock

2009-05-23T14:32:00.004+01:00

Oh, Spock
So logical thou art!

Why, even your name speaks of logic...

Space
Pal
Of
Captain
Kirk

"That's highly acronymical, Captain".

A poem

2009-05-10T10:38:00.001+01:00

Chickenbox

Discarded cardboard coffin
Abandoned on the top deck floor
Spattered red and cold

Bones gnawed
Skin torn
Flesh gone

Cluck out of luck

Yuck

Worthy Highlights

2008-07-05T13:50:00.002+01:00

So last weekend I was right in the middle of this year's Glastonbury Festival in all its mad muddy glory (though actually it was only a bit sludgy and wet on Friday), and I got to see plenty of good stuff in between working on the glowpot stall - which was remarkable fun and came with certain priviliges (cleaner lavvies, central and comparatively quiet camping location, nicer wristbands, etc.). So here's a top 10 rundown of sorts of some of my personal festival highlights...

Wall-E - a special preview on Sunday night some three weeks before its UK release, and an absolute treat it was indeed. Full review over at my reviews blog.
Pivot - I had seen the Australian three-piece perform at Royal Festival Hall supporting Yellow Magic Orchestra as part of the Southbank's Meltdown Festival curated by Massive Attack. And although they were now on the tiny G Stage in the Dance Village on Friday afternoon, they still blew me away thanks to the up close and personal setting. Some monstrous drumming too - the drumkit kept falling apart thanks to the punishment it received during the performance. Stunning.
Smerin's Anti-Social Club - while making my way between Saturday headliners Jay-Z and Massive Attack, the bandstand had pulled in a sizeable crowd for this band, a brilliant brassy ska band who got the audience jumping about like loons. Their closing cover of the Doctor Who theme was a winner.
The Raconteurs - a swell selection of tunes from both of their albums performed impeccably well, yet filled with a raw live energy lacking from other bands at the festival. Great songs that feel like you've somehow always known them - in a good way.
The Actor Kevin Eldon - a great chance to see one of the finest comic actors, who has appeared in pretty much every great British comedy of the past 15 years, do some of his stand-up in character as political poet with delusions of grandeur, Paul Hamilton. The must-see of the Cabaret tent this year.
Goldfrapp - not sure why the rest of the crowd didn't seem to be feeling their performance - maybe it was the slot, or the heavy dependence on material from their latest album (I guess people wanted more of the glam-electronica, but I like it all, so was happy with all the song choices) - but I certainly thought they delivered one of the most engaging and beautiful sets of the festival. And the weird Wicker Man-esque folkiness was scary and sexy in equal measure, complete with May-pole pole-dancing and bikini-girls with werewolf masks.
Neon Neon - one great thing about festivals is stumbling upon stuff you'd not make an effort to see but happen upon as we walk from place to place. But when Har Mar Superstar appeared as guest vocalist for Neon Neon on the Other Stage, he certainly held my attention. It's not often you see a rapping cross between Jon Lovitz and Ron Jeremy singing a verse while doing one of those shoulderstands with his legs in the air. Made me giggle anyway.
Lightspeed Champion - caught the end of his rather pleasant set, which featured a rocking rendition of the Imperial March followed by a Star Wars medley. The ultimate festival sing-a-long.
Kings of Leon - I don't doubt their place as Friday night headliners because I think they're a terrific band and their most recent album, Because of the Times, was my favourite released last year. But I expected to be a little more wowed by their performance. It was good and all, but didn't blow me away like it should have done.
Taiko Meantime - a taiko-drumming group based in Greenwich, they offered some typical taiko banging, but their best performance actually came with the four main musicians knocking out a clock-like percussive number with little cymbals before launching into a ping-pong-esque to-ing and fro-ing of sound between them. Great to listen to and watch in action.

HONOURABLE MENTIONS: Elbow, Hot Chip, MGMT, Young Knives, Charles Hazelwood, Will Gregory and Adrian Utley...

"Do You Have Your Student I.D.?"

2008-06-11T14:40:00.004+01:00

With examinations long gone, dissertation handed in and term time officially drawing to a close, so begins my gradual ebbing away of studentdom. Through as I am with academia, I now must accept that I will soon shift from nominally being a "student" to "unemployed", which isn't really a good thing. I am no stranger to holding down an occupation or two but whereas previously I had summer jobs and gap year fund-raising jobs, now it's a "work until you retire or die" situation I have lined up ahead of me. And simultaneously the priviliges I have enjoyed the past four years have started to vanish.

Yesterday, I handed in my SOAS card, as it was essentially property of the university. Now if I wish to enter the school's hallowed doors, I will need to sign in as a visitor. Similarly, if I ever want to borrow a book from the library, I'll need special outsider access, with all kinds of extra limitations and fees, while gone already is my Senate House Library validity.

However, my student status is still intact for a few months yet. I can still use SOAS computers and keep all my files for another three months, and my SOAS email address is still active three months after that. More useful is my NUS card, which I'll keep on using until I am literally turned away from a point of sale (they change the colour and design every year to make sure it's obvious I'm out of touch with the youth of today). I've been making a concerted effort to catch as many films at the cinema as possible just to wring every last drop of ticket discountability it offers. A couple of quid here and there soon adds up, and you can then go spend it on seeing another film. Bonus. With even more longevity is my student Oyster card, which gives me a third off travelcards until 14th October. And then there's my Young Persons Railcard which doesn't expire until 3rd September 2009, so there'll be plenty of cut-price travelling for months to come.

Cards and tickets are one thing, but I'm already starting to feel old - recent university open days and tours for prospective first years highlighted just how young and fresh-faced these new whipper-snappers are. I don't think I could cope sticking around for a masters or postgrad degree with so many youngsters around; I'd just get horribly depressed. At least in the world of work I'll still be considered something of a young'un. A trainee of sorts. Nothing's worse than being asked by a first or second year "What's it like being a fourth year?", not because it's impolite or annoying, but rather because it's just plain upsetting. Suffice to say, tales of mid-mid-life crises have a certain substance to them.

----------------
Listening to: Masami Ueda, Shusaku Uchiyama, Syun Nishigaki - The Library
via FoxyTunes

95 Noises

2008-03-06T17:12:00.003Z

The plot thickens in the ever-interesting "Loathe My Neighbour" saga. Recently, there has been a dearth of entertainment from their quarters - just turgid choons ad nauseum. I'm more clued up on the contemporary R'n'B, rap, hip-hop, garage and trashy dance scenes than any other musical genre at the moment thanks to their 100+ decibel-level speakers in incessant use. There's the odd telephone conversation about going to court, and a few arguments, but mostly mawkish noisy ear-sewage. I don't like the term 'chav' - I think classing any social group with a tag they haven't chosen to adopt themselves is a dangerous thing to do - but they're only a few steps down (or shoul that be up) from Devvo. Need I remind you, these are people with 'WANKAS' scribbled in blue above their front door (not my handywork, I'm afraid).

I'm starting to get a handle on the set-up now - I believe the family downstairs rents the rooms upstairs to college students, as the bitch next door seems to have moved out (or at least moved rooms) after she fell behind on payments (or at least the argument she had with the father of the family out in the garden seems to suggest). Instead, my new adjacentee is an irksome ruffian with delusions of rapping grandeur, as he tries his best to rap his guts out but ends up tripping over his words, giving up rather sheepishly. On seemingly permanent replay is "Apologise", which just might be the whiniest, wettest song in the history of the musical arts; yet I'm deluged by its various iterations, coupled with the cretin next door screeching the drippy chorus, on a daily basis.

It got so bad that the other week I was woken up at about 3am on a weeknight to some horribly distorted rap claptrap at a heinously excessive volume. I phoned the council's 24 hour noise nuisance enforcement service, but before someone could come round, the music ceased. I waited and waited, then called the council to cancel dispatching someone to come over. But as soon as it had been called off, the music rebooted and my soul fell apart. Next time. Next time!

Other times I've taken matters into my own hands, singing along loudly and just as badly (if I know the tune), or just banged on the wall. It's not particularly thin, so the best method is to tilt my wardrobe against it repeatedly or smack my hand against a poster to create the loudest slap against it. Sometimes I get primitive return knocking; once he kicked the wall a couple of times and said to himself "Dickheads! Stop hitting my wall!". Tee-hee.

However, all this anguish finally paid off a few days ago. I had just gotten out of the shower and was drying off in my room when all of a sudden through the wall I hear: "AH! NO! MOTHERFUCKER! FUCK! NO!" There was banging and crashing and shouting. "HELP! I CAN'T GET OUT MY ROOM!" Turns out he locked himself in somehow or the door was stuck, but hilariously he was trapped. Help came (someone apparently with the great moniker Ruben), and they told him to turn his music off so they could hear him. "IT WON'T WORK!" He repeatedly pulls and pushes, bangs and swears but to no avail. He then announces he's going to climb out the window, get onto the roof and clamber through his friends window. Part of me wanted to suddenly open my window and scare him by making a loud noise in the hope it would result in a nasty fall...but a manslaughter trial would really hinder my dissertation. So he starts to put his leg out of the top window, but the hinge is such that there wasn't enough room to get through. As his leg dangles over the side, "I CAN'T GET OUT THE WINDOW! NNNRRRGGHH! NAH, CAN'T DO IT! If I fall, will I get compensation?". He pulls himself back in and it soon turns silent - I assume the door was soon opened or he just gave up and accepted incarceration, but I suspect the former is true. Anyway, it was an entertaining half an hour from the Cirque du Retards.

NOTE: While typing this up, his CD started to skip. "FUCK! FUCK! FUCKING WORK!" BANG! BANG! BANG! More skipping. "FUCK!" SLAM! Out the door...baby.

Dying Standing Up

2008-02-29T11:30:00.006Z

This week has been pretty eventful. In between not working on my dissertation, I went to see both Juno (overrated) and Be Kind Rewind (underrated) back to back, visited the Royal Pharmaceutical Society to look at opium artefacts and whatnot (ornate jars of bear grease to combat baldness, apparently) amid a police-cordoning-off of Lambeth Bridge area, had a trip down the local to celebrate Jona's birthday, and have seen Richard Herring do his "Oh F*ck, I'm 40!" stand-up show which was very funny and vulgar indeed.

But perhaps the most eventful event of the week (if that makes any sense) was trying my hand at stand-up comedy on Tuesday evening. I went to Kingston University to compete in the regional heat of the Chortle Student Comedy Award 2008. In case you didn't know, Chortle is basically the UK Comedy website, with gig listings and daily news updates of the comedy scene, and has been running a nationwide search for the UK's best student comedian for the past few years, the final being held up in Edinburgh during the festival.

Now, I've never done stand-up before, but I thought that this was perhaps my only shot of giving it a go, and what the hey! You're only young and stupid once. So I applied. I got in. I'm on the list of acts. And now I'm standing in a student bar waiting to go on stage and recite some barely rehearsed material in front of a bunch of strangers, experienced comics, and industry know-it-alls. It was perhaps made a tiny bit more nerve-wracking that the head of Chortle looks a lot like Gregory Itzin aka President Logan from 24 / The Mayor of Eerie, Indiana.

I got chatting to a few of my competitors who were very amiable and supportive individuals. One was actually doing an MA in Stand Up Comedy, another did a couple of gigs every week, for one it was his first gig in 4 years (a final shot at the title belt, so to speak), and another who organised his own comedy night and had done about 100 gigs since September. And then there was me. But hey - everyone's gotta start somewhere.

I was to go on 4th out of 10, and I couldn't really have picked a better slot - not going first, but getting it over and done with before the interval. We had a professional MC warm up the audience of about 30/40 local students, the first few acts came and went with varying degress of laughter from the attendees, and there it was my turn.

Now, I wouldn't say I died on my arse, but during the 5-6 minutes of my act I probably got 5-6 laughs. Here is a two minute extract of my performance; unfortunately they picked the two minutes that included the joke that died the worst death and a long-winded set-up and spiel that didn't pay off (I should be sent the whole thing at a later date).

It was strange because there was no tension in the room and I wasn't really nervous; the audience sat there smiling but not laughing, so I think I held their attention and they were mildly entertained, but they just didn't find any of it actually funny. I got some better response towards the end, and a joke I only resorted to when I needed to fill up more time got the biggest laugh of my set, so what do I know? I think my main flaws were...

Too much set-up, not enough jokes. My running theme could have lasted a whole headline act, but I tried to squeeze it into a 5 minute framework.
The delivery. I didn't rehearse enough, forgot a few bits and tripped over myself a few times. Timing the right moment to drop the punchline, seguing smoothly, and emphasising the right words were also skills I fail to possess.
Not enough dick and fart jokes. Perhaps my approach was too clever clever, more of a referential rant than trying to point out everyday foibles that would resonate better with the audience, or better yet, using more swears and gags about sex and poo. And less bad puns - I expected at least a chucklesome groan, but got silence instead.
Be myself. Perhaps I was too scripted - really I should be making jokes that would make me laugh, and I love dark horrible humour, so maybe I should be just a bit sicker in the head.
Perhaps the most crucial - I just wasn't that funny.

Anyway, the very fact that I'm picking apart my routine is probably testament to my desire to give it another spin. The other experienced stand-ups said it was good for a first try, and those that didn't know I was a beginner were impressed in a Faking It sort of way. It was clear though that I had no chance of winning, but I was just happy to have survived. In the end, the winner was a member of the Cambridge Footlights, had competed in this competition the past 4 years, and was already signed up by Avalon. So it was a forgone conclusion for all involved. You can watch clips from all the acts in that heat here.

Still, it was a good learning experience, I got some helpful tips and advice, and I've popped my stand-up cherry. The thing is now, do I dare go on a second date?

The War Next Door

2008-01-12T12:09:00.000Z

So, my final essay for a while is finished. Done and dusted. No longer do I need to think about Japan's pharmaceutical industry and their production and distribution of cocaine between the two world wars - a fascinating topic, but it almost killed me. I typed about 2000 words in 24 hours, staying up to 4am on Thursday night, waking up at 9am the next morning and ploughing through it until just before 2pm to meet the 4pm deadline. Not only that, but my main source was one of the most cack-handedly written texts I've seen throughout my university career (including my own work). Spelling the same name three different ways, non-sequitur paragraphs, little sense of a threaded argument - Steven B. Karch, MD: you are a dolt.

The weekend is my reward. But the jerks next door seem to be having none of it. After the incessant loud music (they've added bad Pink Floyd dance remixes to their repertoire now; there should be a law against radios playing songs that are designed to be 'played loud'), frantic alibi-setting-straight telephone calls, macaroni-window-flinging and shouting matches that would make the cast of Eastenders flee in fear, their ouevre has expanded.

I assume their inquisitive cat (which would regularly peak out the window and stare at us in the kitchen or lavatory) has died, because it its stead they seem to have acquired a dog. A tiny yapping puppy of sorts, and I guess the girl in the room adjacent to mine is its appointed owner. Every time they have an argument (which is pretty much all the time - most recent exchange: "Get the f**k outta mah layf!", "Get the f**k outta mah hause, yeh f**kin' mug!"), the dog won't start yipping and yupping like a flustered chicken. I blame its master. So far her commands have consisted of "Stay there!", "Sit down!", and "Shut up!". Crufts beckons.

But just as this all gets intensely irritating, something hilarious happens and all is forgiven. Couple of nights ago, she had some friends over listening to some godawful music, and the dog was yipping from time to time. Then, all of a sudden, there was shouting and panic: "OH MAH GOT! HE PISSED ON MA DVDS!".

Bless that dog.

----------------

New Year means New Telly, and a chance to catch the second series of two similar shows that hit at roughly the same time when I was in Japan. Charlie Brooker mode activated.

First off is Doctor Who spin-off Torchwood, an absudly silly sci-fi rompathon that plays like an episode of Scooby-Doo in which Shaggy has been replaced by, well, shagging. Much has been written about its bewildering tone and how the very existence of an adult version of a kids programme that retains the same level of scripting and acting but with blood and sex is strange enough in itself (Lazy Town Sleepless Nights? Postman Pat: Off Duty Package Delivery? Rosie & Jim Unleashed - With Extra Hot Dickings?). I managed to catch the first two episodes of the first series, but when I wasn't baffled, I was just plain bored. If it didn't have the Who connection, I doubt anyone would have bothered in the first place.

Yet, here comes another helping. The BBC have uploaded the opening of the first episode of the new series onto YouTube and it seems more of the same. A man with a blowfish for a head driving a sports car being pursued by the Torchwood team in their S&M Ice Cream Van with tinkly blue LEDs. A delerious hostage situation, the hilarious sight of Welsh people holding guns with all the confidence of an archer afraid of targets, some raspy hammy alienspeak and Captain Jack (John Barrowman) dropping in from nowhere to save the day. Surprised they didn't shoehorn in a big gay snog (though I believe you're promised one later in the episode). Touch wood, it'll get better...groan. May I suggest they have a man with a different animal for a head each episode. That's right, not a different animal head, but his all head comprises a scaled down creature with all its appendages attached. A tiger? Or an earwig? Or maybe a bat?

More interesting-looking is ITV's CG-filled family entertainment answer to Doctor Who, Primeval. 'Back for Seconds' scream the trails (surprised Torchwood hasn't gone for 'Second Coming'), as a band of young pretty scientists battle dinosaurs that rip through the fabric of space and time to eat M&Ms (no joke) and feast of Jeremy Kyle's intestines (joke, but one can dream can't they). Starring Ben Miller and that one from S Club 7, its perhaps because it doesn't have the baggage of 45 years of Doctor Who that both hinders and helps Torchwood that it looks like it could be more entertaining, but perhaps not quite as hysterically ludicrous.

Although Primeval starts tonight, I'm afraid I'm going to plump for an evening with Captain Jack instead. Torchwood may not start until Wednesday, but I have rented a DVD classic starring John Barrowman himself...Shark Attack 3: Megalodon...

Jean Therapy for Cringemuss

2007-12-03T14:55:00.000Z

With less than a month to go before Crimbletide, I am now no longer allowed to buy myself anything bar essential goods. Luckily, I did a little spending spree before the calendar change, ordering a bunch of CDs from Amazon Japan and stopping by the new big Uni Qlo stores in Oxford Street for a couple of tops and a pair of jeans.

Yes, that's right - this is the first pair of jeans I have ever bought. I gave up on jeans before I started having to buy clothes for myself, and I still don't get the WORLD's obsession with them. Denim is not an especially nice fabric for starters, they get worn out pretty easily and the cut is rarely comfortable. On top of that, EVERYBODY WEARS THEM. Aliens probably think it's some global uniform the UN has decreed all must wear. More people wear jeans out of work than people wear suits to work. Now I've finally gotten myself a pair (mainly because I thought I might as well get some blue trousers in a change to my dark/beige/green selection), I feel even more self-conscious about the fact everyone else is wearing the same than if I'd been wearing something no-one else was wearing. I'm glad I bought them and it's a useful addition to my wardrobe, but come on guys! How about NOT wearing jeans for charity rather than the traditional vice-versa scenario? They're so...boring.

Fashion column over. The Christmas lights have been going up in Turnpike Lane the past week - well, they're non-religious specific, just some twinkly bits on the side of streetlamps. As Bill Bailey referred to in his Tinselworm show I saw on Thursday, they're just there to emphasise the Primary Gifting Period ("BEGIN THE PGP!") that have made advertisements on television more tedious than ever. While we're perhaps more inundated with 'Buy Me' breaks than in Japan, at least it's not as commercially ruthless as it was over there. They were already removing garlands from shop displays at 10pm on Christmas Day. Back closer to home, a banner was being put up over Ducketts Common roughly the same time as the Christmas lights. Would it be a Christmas message? Or a celebratory sign of some sort? Um...no...

STOP DOMESTIC VIOLENCE
Zero Tolerance in Haringey

Charming. The banner's already been battered and abused by the wind, causing it to look even more depressing in its now contorted, crumpled state.

Speaking of signs, I've recently been enjoying entertainingly named businesses. I'm pretty certain I would enlist the services of a snappier or sillier named business than a more mundane one, regardless of recommendations or qualifications. There was Swanky! Beauty Salon I saw on the bus today, the Fishcoteque chippie by the BFI Imax (I intend to open a geeky fish and chop called "All Your Plaice Are Belong To Us"), and Jim'll Mix It cement mixer. Whether I needed cement mixed or no, it's worth getting a patio just to tell your mates that Jim mixed it for you.

"Now then, now then, now then, concrete, cement, etc."

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Listening to: Daft Punk - Voyager
via FoxyTunes

The Lone Gigger

2007-11-19T16:26:00.001Z

Last night I went to see Arcade Fire at the Alexandra Palace. However, I was in Japan when tickets were on sale, and not wanting to pass up the opportunity in case they sold out (which they did), I decided to buy one then and there. But I did not want to fork out twice or thrice the price to get extra tickets, in the hope that I could convince someone else to go to a concert months into the future, and get paid back for it. So it was a solo venture as I walked through the wind and rain from home to the venue, a grand place for a concert indeed (having seen Franz Ferdinand there two years previous in a similar state of loneliness).

So what does one actually do at gigs when you're on your own and waiting for the bands to come on? It's too expensive and time-consuming queueing to drink, yet I was too sober to start up chit-chat with strangers - no-one wants to appear too enthusiastic about the band, despite the fact that everyone there is a fan (otherwise, why would they be there?). Instead, you're left standing there on your own while groups of friends around you have vastly entertaining and interesting conversations you want to join in with but feel it socially inappropriate to do so; no one wants their evening spoiled by some strange nobody chiming in with their two cents like they're worth a dime (that's ten cents).

Well, pehaps not turning up early would be a good idea. Then I spent my time putting my coat in the cloakroom, looking at prices for food and drinks, then found a spot by the tech crew and waited. For 45 minutes. The good thing was that Alexandra Palace is perhaps the best venue in London to get a signal (what with it being the old broadcast centre), so mobile phone use was not a problem. The boredom was alleviated through a light bit of texting, something that just would not be possible in the more cavernous capital venues (at which point, not even faux-phone-fiddling - in which you pretend to be doing important things like sending or checking messages - would slide).

Maybe there should be some kind of gig-goer application on something like last.fm where it wouldn't be considered socially awkward to check who's going on their own. Perhaps you can hook up with a like-minded group of people - I mean, the band could be a starting point for just getting to know others. Could even expand into a dating service sort of realm - music is a personal thing, and if you share similar tastes in tunes, who knows? They could be 'the one'. But I digress...

Once the support acts were on, it was fine. You're among a crowd and the focus is on music rather than being a Billy No-Mates. While New Englanders Wild Light better fitted the bill as a warm-up, Liverpudlian band Clinic were perhaps the more entertaining band, even if they seemed to bemuse most of the audience. Living up to their name by wearing dark blue surgical outfits, Clinic's pounding mix of indie-punk-folk and strange strange vocals was creepy but interesting.

Arcade Fire themselves were stunning. An energetic, kinetic live show thanks to the brilliant visuals and lighting, and the rambunctious nature inherent with so many band members and instruments on stage. Lead singer Win Butler's vocals were drowned out during My Body Is A Cage and a teasing opening to a cover of Pulp's Common People never came to pass, but the rest of it was joyous. The anthemic choral nature of their songs lend themselves perfectly to crowd sing-a-longing and clapping which required little to no direction, such were the lyrics and music engrained within all the attendees. Including myself. So I guess I wasn't alone after all...

Bah, screw sentimentality and lessons learned. Next time, I'm forcing someone to come with me.

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Listening to: Clinic - Fingers
via FoxyTunes

Guess Who's Back? Needs A Scratch?

2007-11-15T21:59:00.001Z

Flash forward three months and you find me here. In London. With macaroni cheese running down my kitchen window.

To briefly fill in the gaps, I'm now well into the first term of my final year at SOAS. The workload is pretty intense - I could easily coast by for the moment, but I know that preparation is key to survival. Or something. Being back from Japan is a little weird; I miss a lot of things about living there, but I missed a lot of things about living here too, so go figure (oooh, that sounded very early 90s). Despite all the pressing engagements (two essays for the end of term, dissertation deadlines to make, Japanese Language Proficiency Test Level 2), there's still time for frivolity. Well, there kind of isn't, but it gets you out the house, don't it?

Case in point - this time last week I was watching I'm A Cyborg But That's OK, followed by a talk with the director Park Chan-wook, who I believe to be something of a genius - and yet I've only seen two of his films. Well, three now. It was the closing night gala of the London Korean Film Festival, and his screen talk with Empire writer Damon Wise (via translator) was funny, frank and illuminating. I can't imagine many directors would be so honest about their early films, box office success and failure and the meaning of their work. I think he does a commentary on the Oldboy DVD which I should really listen to some time. Anyway, I review his latest on my review blog (yes, it's still there) here.

Another case in point - last Saturday, I went to see all 14 episodes of genius sitcom Spaced in one day in a grand comedy show marathon as part of the BFI's Channel 4 at 25 celebrations. In between the two series, we were treated to a Q&A with Edgar Wright, Simon Pegg, Nick Frost, Katy Carmichael, Mark Heap and Julia Deakin, chaired by big-chinned, whine-voiced Radio Times film-prong Andrew Collins. Although Jessica Hynes (Stevenson) couldn't make it (leaving us a brilliant recorded message instead), it was a brilliant way to spend 10 hours. We even got to see Aida the Dog (aka Colin the Dog)! Interestingly, the episodes were taken from their original broadcast, so at the end, the voice announcer would keep telling us Frasier was coming up next. The Q&A session was the highlight - Nick Frost is a comedy genius par excellence, and I even got to ask a question. Well, no-one else was sticking their hand up, so off the fly I asked them what it was like having met and collaborated with film directors such as George A. Romero and Quentin Tarantino having referenced them in Spaced. Not a great question, but we got a nice anecdote about Edgar meeting John Carpenter in Virgin, both buying The Beatles' Help! on DVD. I also thanked them for putting Wells on the map with Hot Fuzz, to which Edgar punched the air and Simon asked me "Didn't you know where it was before?".

The bizzayness doesn't stop there. I'm running the SOAS Film Society every Tuesday night. So far I've shown Children of Men, Chung King Express, The Thing and Grizzly Man, with A Scanner Darkly due next week. Also, I'm hosting Tokyo Soundscape, my Japanese music show, every Friday 1-2pm, which can be listened to through Open Air Radio. I got myself a MySpace page for it, so please be my friend, or I will hunt you down and cut you. Kiddles!

And as for the macaroni...well, it seems that not only do we have a bedbug infestation and noisy stupid neighbours, but someone flung macaroni cheese on our kitchen window. It was still steaming as it congealed on the glass, and I didn't even hear it happen. One moment it wasn't there, the next SPLOK! As the window only overlooks our neighbours, it could only have been them; unless the people directly below us had especially good aim. Still, there's a Citizen's Advice Bureau round the corner which I'm hankering to pay a visit. Once I've stoppoed wasting time doing stupid things like blogging.

Ah! It's good to be back!

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Listening to: Fredo - Grande
via FoxyTunes

Bon Voyage Bullet Points

2007-08-14T09:47:00.000+01:00

So I said goodbye to my dear mother and younger brother yesterday morning (after infuriatingly leaving behind a whole bunch of stuff they could have taken back with them, thereby easing my own luggage). You can view a variety of photos from the three weeks we spent travelling together on my Flickr collection, but for now, here's a brief rundown of some of the things we got up to during this time as best as memories serve (Hamish has a far more detailed journal he regularly updated during the holiday, which may prove a better testament to our experiences). Nevertheless...

Friday 27th July

Early morning Shinkansen to Tokyo to meet up with half my family at their hotel in Asakusa. They've already done the temple and Ueno Zoo, so not bad going considering the jetlag.
Take the Sumida River Cruise through Tokyo down towards Obaida, passing under multiple (supposedly interesting) bridges along the way
Experience the madness of the Fuji Television Japan Broadcast Centre, which involved live shows, shops, stalls and stands related to TV shows I knew nothing about (having been sans telly all year)
Meet up with Ian in the evening for dinner and drinks at Kamiya in Asakusa. As we exited, a fire patrol man entered the building with a stretcher, and a couple of drunken salaryman attempted some English conversation (as they often do).

Saturday July 28th

Shopping in Akihabara, at various electronics and media centres.
Bump into Nick and a friend of his there, having a post-Fuji Rock Festival day out.
Visit Edo-Tokyo Museum for various real and reconstructed exhibits charting the history of the capital. Best bit: pretending to ride a penny-farthing!
Weave our way through the crowds to find a spot for the Sumida-gawa fireworks festival. Some kind local punters offer us a tiny space to sit in a baseball ground, which felt like being in a concentration camp. Except with fireworks. And glorious ones they were, eliciting genuine gasps and wows. Knocked Tenjin Matsuri for six.

Sunday July 29th

Election day is spent shopping in Shibuya. Breakfast in Starbucks overlooking 'that' crossing.
Bump into Ricky Wilson, lead singer of Kaiser Chiefs, in a tiny T-shirt shop. A little sunburnt and bruised from their show at Fuji Rock Festival the night before (he was wearing a festival t-shirt), I would have loved to stop for a chat about Polysics, but thought it best to leave him to it.
Just as we reach Harajuku, we're hit by a terrific downpour and vicious lightning bolts strike all around us, so we decamp under a subway entrance, then get brollies just as the worst has subsided.
Weave through teeny shopping streets of Omotesando, then back into Yoyogi Park as the rain lets up to watch the rockabillies twist their hips, strike imaginary air guitar strings and slide about the place.
Back onto Harajuku Jingu-bashi to see the cosplay crew out in force.
Arcade games in Shibuya, followed by Ratatouille, which is the best Pixar (and by that token, probably CG-animated) film since Toy Story 2. Heart-warming, grin-inducing, and more mature than you'd ordinarily expect from a film featuring talking rodents.

Monday 30th July

Final meeting with the Heiwa-Nakajima Foundation all by myself.
Walk to Tokyo Tower for pics and postcards.
Subway to Shinjuku and up to the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Offices for views of the city.
Into the hustle-bustle of Shinjuku itself and explore the massive Takashimaya Times Square department store, from the basement food hall to the HMV near the top.
Din-dins at an izakaya before returining to the government building for night-time cityscapes.

Tuesday 31st July

Asakusa Temple and market, plus the wonders of the 100 yen shop and the Studio Ghibli shop round the corner.
Into central Tokyo and a pilgrimage to the Godzilla statue outside the Toho building.
A look into the aquarium outside Sony Plaza turns stomach-churning when a puffer fish decides to chew on the head of one of it's co-habitants and begins an off-putting brain-eating frenzy. Pizza for lunch...
Spot a blimp on the way to Tokyo Imperial Palace Park. Walk through the grounds, hope for martial arts at the Budokan in Kitanomaru Park, but, alas, there's some concert going on (didn't know any of the artists except someone from the Backstreet Boys was DJing apparently - there's a mark of quality if I ever saw one).
'Do' Yasukuni shrine for the controversy factor.
Tokyo Dome and the Koraku-en Amuseume Park offer night-time thrills. The Thunder Dolphin rollercoaster is just as fast as ever, GeoPanic is an underground (read: dark with flashy lights) trip to the centre of the earth, but scariest attraction was easily the horror house experience Yami no Shika Byoutou (Dentristy Ward of Darkness). Taking place in The 13 Doors area that Harry visited in 2004 and sponsored by The Grudge 2, Hamish and I had to navigate terrifying corridors while examining corpses for evil teeth. While others took their time, we kept our heads low and ran, trying to avoid the monsters popping out to make us 'fill' our pants. Abso-bloody-lutely terrifying, but so much fun.

Wednesday 1st August

Shinkansen in the morning all the way down to Fukuoka (with a stop at Shin-Osaka). Make a brief stop at the City Disaster Prevention Centre if only for a chance to use the wind tunnel and earthquake simulators. Turned out to be the best thing we did all day.
Reach Fukuoka's rather soulless sea front with obligatory 'big tower' and baseball dome.
Decide to walk to the largest ferris wheel in Asia. Bad idea. Must have taken us about an hour and a half, plus a wrong turn thanks to near identical naming for two completely different places. Once we get there, we ride it round, then leave soon after, taking the bus this time.
Train down to Kumamoto, arriving in the evening.

Thursday 2nd August

Q. Why did the castle swear uncontrollably? A. It had turrets. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry...
Moving on, we visited Kumamoto Castle amid temperamental weather. As we walked onwards to the Former Hosokawa Gyobutei Samurai Villa, the wind and rain became truly dreadful, and it was only when we went to the train station to check departure times that we discovered a category 5 typhoon had hit Kyushu and we had been sight-seeing during it. Decamp into a nearby arcade for blister-inducing Taiko no Tatsujin 10 (of which my mother became quite a fan).

Friday 3rd August

Errands and such in the morning, Suizenji-koen in the afternoon. Most of the rest of the day was presumably spent in the covered shopping arcades of Kumamoto.

Saturday 4th August

Fine weather for our trip to Mt. Aso, but the previous days' typhoon had caused a signal failure at one station, meaning what should have been a journey of half an hour or so lasted some three hours instead. Frustrating doesn't begin to cover it.
Eventually make it to our arrival station, then bus it up to the cable car station, then cable car it up to volcano creater, foregoing lunch (I know! Lunch!).
Weather reaches its peak of excellence as we reach the crater, and watch the bubbling water and smoke plumes rise from within. Beautiful, epic, prehistoric landscapes (and Japanese girls dying to have their picture taken with yours truly).
Long journey back to the station, but forego trains for a good old coach (though that's almost half an hour late).
Arrive at Suizenji-koen again with about 40 minutes left of Takigi No (No theatre performed by firelight, which only takes place here once a year). Makes little sense and is somewhat repetitive (40 minutes is just about enough really), but remains engrossing and atmospheric.

Sunday 5th August

Trains to Fukuoka and onto Hiroshima. Our hotel is 2 minutes walk from the Peace Memorial Park, which we then visit to observe the preparations taking place. Meet Catherine, helping with the organisation, who just so happens to be an ex-Sheffield University student who also studied at Doshisha for a year (instantly connected with the Matsumoto-sensei namecheck) and was now on the JET program, so knew Josy. Coinkydink!
Take a look around a packed Peace Memorial Museum (naturallement). An old Japanese man strikes up a conversation with us about how he was a student when the bomb was dropped, but he was working in an arms factory at the time, so he was spared (although his mother died - his house was where the park is now). He then offered to send me various materials on his peace foundation, which was very generous, arriving soon after we got back.
Wander about the park some more, visiting the various sights it's renowned for, while workers set up stands and stages, press crews position cameras and orchestras rehearse.
Dinner in Okonomiyaki Mura, a building filled with numerous okonomiyaki counters. Naysh.

Monday 6th August

Wake up early to a rumbling downpour outside, but it had luckily ceased by the time we left the hotel to attend the Peace Memorial Ceremony from 8am. Music, speeches and wreath-planting, followed by a minute's silence as the bell tolled to mark the exact moment the bomb was dropped. Then, scores of doves (pigeons, actually) were released. Unexpectedly, PM Shinzo Abe, still reeling from the election results, was in attendance and gave a speech reinforcing the three non-nuclear principles Japan followed, though the Mayor of Hiroshima's emphasis on leaving the constitution as is must have caused a little tension between them both.
Take the tram to Miyajima port, and board the ferry to the island, where we encounter the resident deer who, unlike their Nara counterparts, are not allowed to be fed, so they end up trying to eat out of bins and tourists' pockets.
The tide was out, so we could walk quite close up to the famous floating torii for some good photo opportunities, then we headed up to Senjo-kaku, an unfinished but impressive hall and pagoda combo.
Walk around Itsukushima-jinja, marvelling at the teeny crabs beneath us.
Trek through the woods up Mt. Misen, board a cable car offering fascinating views of the forest beneath us, and then across the Inland Sea, which was simply breath-taking. Plus, at the top, there were a bunch of monkeys, lazing about in the shade and picking bugs out of each other (and some of the deer there too).
After leaving the island, we saw spectators watching a sport of some kind taking place in the water. Our investigations revealed it was speedboat racing, which sounds mighty cool, but in actuality looked rather dull, just watching boats zip round in a loop again and again.
Take a seat in front of the river next to the A-Bomb Dome and watch the Peace Lantern Ceremony as hundreds of paper lanterns are floated down the river (some more successfully than others).

Tuesday 7th August

Travel to Himeji in time for lunch and a visit to the castle. Blazing hot, but certainly worth the effort (and having watched You Only Live Twice three times in the space of a couple of months, couldn't help noticing some of the ninja training locales).
Koko-en gardens and ex-samurai quarters provide a chance to gather ourselves before heading back to the station and onto Kyoto.
Check in at the hotel right next to the station, then meet up with various buds at Kyoto Tower Beer Garden to bid Baptiste farewell. Don't drink or eat enough (thanks to time limitations and constant photo-taking), but it's followed by gaming sessions, purikura, ice cream and, ultimately, all-night karaoke in a psychedelic ocean-themed disco room.

Wednesday 8th August

Meet up with Mama and the Mish for a walk around Shijo and Gion, then through Yasaka-jinja and Maruyama Park (home to some very peculiar ducks) en route to Kiyomizu-dera. Much the same as my previous visits, but before we go, went into a little temple before the entrance in which you navigate through corridors in pitch darkness, supposedly symbolising being in the womb of some deity or other. Not quite sure, but worth 100 yen anyway.
Shopping in Shijo arcades and a walk down Nishiki food market and Ponto-cho is followed by yummy yakiniku (though a dead rat outside the restaurant didn't really sell the establishment very well - "Poor Remy", as Hamish remarked).

Thursday 9th August

Nara - deer love crackers. Whether it was because it was too hot or it was a weekday, not sure, but Nara wasn't busy at all, meaning the attractions were not as heaving as I was worried they would be. Visit the Todai-ji, squeeze myself through the hole in the pole round the back of the Daibutsu (though I reached a point where neither my arms or legs could touch the ground, so I needed to be pulled out the other end).
Views from the Nigatsu-do balcony and a chance for some rest before a lantern-lined walk in the woods. Kofuku-ji pagoda, turtle action at Sarusawa pond, then more delicious okonomiyaki. As we leave, the night illuminations have begun, but, figuring it's just going to be everything we've seen during the day, but with little lights hither and thither, we call it a day.

Friday 10th August

A call from the International Centre at Doshisha (I'm too appear in more promotional material for the university) coincides with a visit to Imadegawa campus, and Mumsy and Hamish get a chance to sample the tastes of the canteen. Dip into Tsutaya to rent a movie, then hop on a bus to Kinkakuji. Or at least, I got very confused, and we took the bus to Ginkakuji instead. But what the hey, we ended up catching them both that afternoon, so it all turned out okay.
Head to Mukaijima to give a (brief) tour of my room. Hamish stays the night, so we go to the wacky shop round the corner, buy some McDonald's and watch Godzilla vs Destoroyah. Ilan comes round a little later and goes a bit bonkers while we watch YouTube videos into the wee hours.

Saturday 11th August

Slow start, but get into Osaka for lunch, and visit geeky stores, like electronics shops and the Chax Colony in Amerika-mura. End up in the long arcade and go on a spending spree in Book Off, getting second-hand movie pamphlets and DVDs on the cheap.
Take a peek in Mike's Store (the place with the Predator statue outside) and K-Optix (the place with the Cucumber Hendrix figure, which we sneakily snap, deflecting staff assistance concerning eyewear).
Walk through Den Den Town and brief stops in Super Potato and Retro Game Revival to look at the stacks of console crap and play Virtual Boy.
Meet with Mother (who has spent a very hot day temple-hopping in Kyoto), and walk about Dotombori, where we have dinner, giggle at the dog café, observe the pretty neon (much of it now themed around the upcoming world athletics tournament to be held in Osaka) and play a few arcade games.

Sunday 12th August

Arashiyama is today's destination, and a lovely day for it too. Watch some fishing, then go for a relaxing boat trip on the Hozu River.
After lunch, we head to Tenryu-ji for it's lovely garden, then walk through the bamboo groves behind, stop at a station for shaved ice-cream, then get horribly lost on the way back, thanks to just not taking a right when I should have done.
Back into Shijo for karaoke (a chance to show how I've improved over the course of my study year abroad), then a few more arcade games before bed.

Monday 13th August

Final shopping in Shijo, then a purikura session at Namco Wonder Tower, which results in some frightful editing and rakugaki afterwards.
Fushimi Inari-taisha in the late afternoon/early evening. Spiders, cats, snakes and bats give it a 'witch's cauldron' atmosphere and it's a tiring climb to the top for views of Kyoto, but we make it (well, Hamish calls it quits two flights of steps from the goal).
Dinner at Fujinoya on the balcony overlooking the Kamo-gawa. Small portions, but so many courses (not all of it to our tastes, but the tempura was delicious).

And that's about it. I realise now that I really actually don't have much time remaining at all. I had expected to do a lot more relaxing this week, but there's still a few time-consuming chores to get done (mostly packing and writing my final foundation letter), so I may have to leave more final thoughts-style blogs until I'm back in Blighty. Until then, toodles!

The Parting of the Ways

2007-07-25T16:04:00.000+01:00

My time at Doshisha has drawn to a close. Today was my last day of attendance, and I overslept. Goes to show just how tired I have been all this year, but especially the past few weeks. Luckily, a call from Baptiste woke me up, and I made it to the classroom just in time for my penultimate test. After the final exams, I handed in my final report, and then went to the little luncheon party for us foreign students were I said many goodbyes, some only temporary, some most probably permanently, and the rest? Well, we'll always have Facebook. Still, I had a fun evening in Osaka with a few buddies watching the climax of the Tenjin Festival, perfectly positioned to watch the spectacular fireworks burst over the festival boats on the river below. It was quite a send-off. Tomorrow will be spent alerting the country to the fact that I will be departing soon, via the bank, the ward office, the internet company, etc.

As I'm off to Tokyo on Friday morn, I won't be able to attend the big farewell party (all for Josh, apparently) that evening, which is a bummer - but there will still be a few people sticking around once I'm back in Kyoto. Of course, the reason I'm going to Tokyo is to begin a big Japan trip with my mother and younger brother (Hamish, in case you don't know), both of whom I haven't seen since September, so that will no doubt take my mind off my final farewells. I probably won't be posting much while we're travelling, but I'll be back in Kyoto on 7th August , so perhaps a blog and Flickr update will be in order then. They'll be off on the 14th, and I finally leave on the 20th, so during that time I hope to post some final thoughts (Jerry Springer-style) on my time in Japan. No doubt this blog, plus RoryView, will continue beyond my time here, but please leave comments and give me feedback just to know that this isn't completely worthless and I'm just doing this to appease my creative spirit (or swollen ego).

So this week is a time of joy tinged with sadness. Or maybe sadness tinged with joy. I'm both happy that my exams are over, I'm about to embark on an amazing journey, see family members for the first time in months and I will soon be going home. But also genuinely upsetting just how many people I'm going to miss. It's not that my fellow Doshisha (and assorted other institution) buds have just been filling a void left by my SOAS compatriots, scattered throughout the land, but more that they have joined their ranks - extending the rich tapestry of solid-gold ladies and gentlemen I can consider genuine friends.

Perhaps this ambivalence can be summed up in this advert for 24: Season Six, posted outside the Imadegawa Tsutaya (strange how one of my last Japan posts involves 24 advertising much as one of my first posts - I have come full circle). My feelings towards this season reflect my feelings now (first half: so good; second half: not so good), and the advert seems to have captured this somewhat. Clearly Jack Bauer is not a happy bunny in this picture and appears to be shouting or screaming, but what is written here is certainly not what would have been the first exclamation to enter my head. It's kind of a pain/pleasure sensation of sorts:

Thanks to all my Doshisha and Kyoto chums (students and staff alike). It's been emotional. All good things, indeed.

On Thin Ice

2007-06-25T14:37:00.001+01:00

Apologies. After promising to open up the floodgates of blogginess, such a torrent of day-to-day happenings has recently been curtailed by homework, presentations, essays and revision. However, today I have a little chance for a breather to spill my guts about our little ice-skating trip the other weekend.

Alice, Nick, Ilan, U-chan, Parn, Baptiste and Meeee got up at a semi-reasonable hour to board the lovely faux-old-fashioned Hankyu railway cars to Osaka. We navigated our way through the rather soggy weather to Namba Parks, which was really just your typical Japanese mall (typical meaning swish and fancy), and after a long-awaited pizza and pasta luncheon, we made our way to the Namba sports centre. It took us a while to work out how to use the umbrella locks to stow away our brollies in safety, and then we proceeded to the basement where the ice rink was situated.

So, I've never ice-skated in my life, and the only other people who shared my level of experience had had far more extensive roller-skating/-blading experience in their early years than I had done. It's not like I was deprived as a child, but more that strapping wheels to my feet wasn't an experience I had been too fussed about. And plus, it's for girls. I hoped my recent snowboarding skills I had picked up in Hokkaido would see me through (what? Ice? Snow? The same thing, right?). Having eventually found boots the right size for me and purchased some cheapo 'one size fits all' gloves (that one size is 'junior'), we headed out onto the surface, only to be ushered off seconds later as it was time for the resurfacing machine to do it's job. Great false start. But finally, it was time to hit the rink. And hit it I did. Again and again and again.

Us noobs hadn't received much tutelage upon our initial steps (read: skids), and while the pros offered us hints and tips, admittedly a lot of it you have to work out for yourself. U-chan and Ilan picked it up quite quick, while myself and Haruna (who'd joined us at the rink) struggled to make our legs work properly. I'd manage to push off on the right, but leave the left dragging behind, or vice versa. And looking at what you are doing with your feet means you are not looking where you are going. Which is kind of crucial really. The problem was that the slower I was going, the harder it was, but the faster I went, the probability of injury was greater. And boy howdy did it hurt. Over the course of a couple of hours, I had maybe two minor falls, but at least four really big ones. That doesn't sound too bad, but I only managed a few laps in which I did not feel like I was going to fall over at any moment. And the constant lappage was making me feel a little dizzy too.

My big falls were pretty spectacular though. I think it was twice where I fell flat forward and skidded on my belly a bit, but the real bad ones where when I was falling backwards onto my arm, shoulder, back, leg and arse - all at once. I was wearing a helmet, but unfortunately, they didn't have any arse helmets around. I had been keen to continue for another half an hour, but as soon as I said that, I had a terribly painful fall and could barely stand afterwards, let alone skate to the exit. What's more the staff on hand just skate past you and ignore you - no "Are you okay?" or "Do you need a hand?". They probably just think "Pff...Stupid amateur gaijin...".

I guess the really tricky part was both trying to skate properly whilst not hitting anyone else - and changing direction or stopping without causing myself to fall was a real challenge. The vast majority of punters were pretty adept at the skating thing, with a small few external to our group embracing the ice as I did. Plus, lots of tiny kids who had a habit of doing spins and such directly in front of your skating line. There were also a few representatives of figure skating teams from various Kansai universities, and I'd hate to crash into them and be the one to put an end to their burgeoning sports careers. "No Olympic Games for you, chum!" We also noticed that a significant number of patrons were old men whose sole purpose of being there seemed to be giving skating tips to young pretty girls. Sure, you're taking the grandchildren out for exercise! You just want to pick up chicks by teaching them how to do backwards lemons.

Well, I left with aches and pains that would worsen and remain for the next week, but kind of pleased. I never reached a stage where I was relaxed or comfortable, but it was fifty-fifty fun and frustrating. And all the pros gotta start somewhere, right? As I walked out, my feet were making sliding motions rather than taking proper steps - much as a prolonged trampoline session warps one perceptions of the foot-ground relationship. And from one dicey icey enocunter to another.

I was assaulted for the first time during my stay in Japan. YAY! I can safely say that it was far more of a bewildering experience than an intimidating one, just because the situation was so unexpected and came out of nowhere. To set it up, most of the others had gone home, but Ilan, Baptiste and I stayed for a quick trip to Yodoyabashi Camera for a webcam, The Legend of Zelda: Phantom Hourglass on Nintendo DS, and just because I hadn't been there myself, respectively. We then boarded the train back to Kyoto, and took a seat, when Dries appeared in the same carriage and stood in the aisle chatting with us. Ilan and Baptiste dozed off, while I talked to Dries about our day, his drinking plans for the next few days, and general studying banter.

About halfway into the journey, during our conversation, I crossed my legs. Now, I can't work out whether I brushed the leg of the passenger to my left or not, but he certainly reacted in such a way to suggest it. I offered an apology, and continued chatting. Then all of a sudden, he pushed my leg off my knee and started mouthing off in a slurred incomprehensible fashion (granted, my knowledge of Japanese swears is limited, but I couldn't work out any components of speech beyond a grunt). Then he pushes me again, and grabs his umbrella in what could have been an attempt to strike me with it, but Dries deflected it out of his hands, and tried to calm the situation. By this time, Ilan had stirred and suggested moving but I wasn't going to let some schmuck get the better of me. I again tried to ignore him and resumed talking to Dries (though I was trying to work out where I was in the conversation, I thought saying anything would show this joey I was resolutely non-plussed). But then he grabbed me by the ear, trying to dislodge the headphone which I had been listening to at low volume during my chat. That was too far in my book, so I resisted, gave him a look...and then kept on talking to Dries.

Luckily, the muppet got off at the next stop, barging past Dries with his satchel as he left (despite Dries being clearly a foot taller and certainly the one to bet on if it came to blows). It was all rather strange. My heart was pounding and adrenalin rushing, but it goes to show how well I've been brought up that I didn't deck him in straight away (though on the train home, all I could think about was socking him one). I just couldn't work out what his deal was. He was probably late 30's, early 40's (with some bizarre white whisps of hair above his lip, rather than what you could call a moustache), in dressed-down suit attire. I might not have been as suprised if he were a drunken salaryman on the way home from work, but it was a Sunday afternoon. Maybe he was upset about the rainy weather? Or he didn't like it that two foreigners were yapping away happily in words he couldn't understand right next to hime? According to Dries, while I continued to ignore him, he was simmering away and gripping his umbrella in a "I'm going to smack you one" sort of fashion. I think if that had happened, we'd easily have taken him. I mean, what did he expect to come of it? It's not like the other passengers were on his side - most shimmied down the seats, and afterwards a few were smiling in disbelief about what had just transpired, just as I was doing. I've never seen such smouldering rage emerge from someone that way before, let alone over something as trivial as brushing his leg and apologising. So, although it's the second worst case of assault I've received on public transport, it was certainly less scary than any of the times I've been only threatened with assault. I guess Osaka's thugs and punks have a long way to go if they want to compete with London's crooks.

Geez, just typing all that has got my blood boiling. Best to chill out again with the new refreshing beverage that's sweeping Japan-centric blogs across t'internet. The other week, I went into the FamilyMart oppostie the university before lessons for a bit of brekkie. I had just had some delicious Tropicana Golden Harvest (pineapple, kiwi, apple, grape) a few days previous, and was hoping to buy another. But shock horror! It had gone, and been replaced with PEPSI ICE CUCUMBER! WOW! I guess the Pepsi guys were like:

"Gee, you know the phrase, cool as a cucumber?"
"Sort of..."
"How about we make a cucumber-flavour soft drink?"
"Oooookayyyy"
"No, hear me out! Chicks get facials, right? At health spas. And they stick cucumbers on their eyes, you know? Well, cucumber equals healthy! And the chicks will dig it too!"
"But where in the world would an idea this crazy be accepted..."

Thus, Pepsi Ice Cucumber arrived in Japan, and the wacky legend was born. I'm pretty sure that's how it went. Either that, or some mad experiment gone wrong care of Professor Pepsi's laboratory. It's just another in a long line of stunt beverages but I just had to give it a try. I had left it chilled in the fridge over the weekend, but plucked up the courage to try it tonight. The bottle itself informs us that cucumber is the English for kyuuri (the Japanese for cucumber). It then follows with a sentence that translates as "Cola and Cucumber, surprising combination of refreshing cola!". As you can see from my expression upon holding it, I asked myself, "Can it be true, that I hold here in my mortal hand, a beverage of purest green?!"

It takes a few twists to open, but when it does, the rush of fizz is surprisingly loud and disconcerting, like that of a cannister of evil ooze being released. It's super bubbly, and a closer look at the colour reveals it's green to be less of a limeade green, and more like the monkey-micturation in the 'Apes of Wrath' episode of Garth Marenghi's Darkplace. Or at least Listerine. Not a good sign. Oh, but the smell! Now that was very cucumbery, and rather sneer-inducing. But I thought, what the hell, and took a few large gulps.

Initial thoughts? Not too bad. The taste was far too sweet to be that much like cucumber, which is probably a good thing. I love cucumber, but I really don't think it has a place in the beverage market (except maybe a slice or two in a Pimm's). A further swig suggests it's like a mix of cola, bubblegum, citrus and mint - perhaps better suited to the washing-up liquid aisle than the soft drink one. A bit too clinical. Still too sweet and fizzy for my likings; it makes for big belches, and it passed through me so quickly, I had to tinkle before my glass was half-empty. So I probably won't buy it again (not even sure I'm going to finish this bottle - a third through and I think it's already got the better of me, though that's better than some of the more day-to-day drinks offered in Japan). Still yet to give Kodomo no Nomimono a go, though - it's basically beer for kids. Well, no alcohol, all it really amounts to is bubbly apple juice with a foamy head. No worse than candy cigarettes, that are still in plentiful supply here in Japan, in original, chocolate and cola flavours to boot (though what the guy said in Super Size Me about 'Brand Imprinting For Later Actuation in Life' is ringing in my ears).

More skating pics on Parn's Facebook page! My own Flickr updates soon! I'm going now, bye!

Our Feature Presentation

2007-06-14T12:12:00.001+01:00

Out of all the major Japanese movie studios, Toho is undeniably the daddy. Rising to prominence in the 50's, thanks to the double whammy of Akira Kurosawa and Godzilla, it's also responsible for the film versions of many popular anime TV shows (Pokémon, Naruto, Bleach, Doraemon), has co-produced numerous Studio Ghibli efforts (including My Neighbour Totoro and Spirited Away), and released the likes of Densha Otoko, NANA, and Ringu. But it was only last Monday that I finally went to the Toho Cinema in Nijo. I'd been to the amusement arcade within the same entertainment complex before (lucky Gaidai folk living just a few minutes walk away), but this was the first time I got to go to the pictures.

Us men (myself, Brett, Josh, Dominik and Aleksi) went to see 300 for what was to become our inaugural Manday Movie Night, an opportunity to see stupidly macho films that ooze testosterone from the screen. And even though there was a female in our presence (looking at you Grace!), the fairer sex is allowed to attend, providing they enjoy explosions and shouting. We'll see how far it goes, but the concept behind it was buoyed by the fact that the same cinema is showing all three previous Die Hard films next week to gear people up for Die Hard 4.0. So we're going to see Die Hard (to my mind, the greatest American action film ever made - I wouldn't go as far to say the world's best as there's always Hard Boiled) on the big screen! For cheap! With Japanese subtitles! Tempted to go see Die Hard With A Vengeance as well, but we'll see. Still, it was such a wonderful sight to see I couldn't stop thinking about it all through 300, and made me fall in love with the cinema in an instant.

Anyway, so not only is there an arcade a couple of floors below, but we also got tickets for 1000 yen thanks to our student cards. Yet we haven't worked out why that is the case, as the official price list states the student price is 1500 yen. Maybe we have special gaijin treatment, or they just consider us to be in the handicapped category. Then there's the store, selling all kinds of movie merchandise and relevant programs, like the one I'm holding in the picture, and the snack counter. I got myself a beer set with chicken nuggets. Yes, a beer! To drink at the movies! And they served it to me on a tray I could bring in with me. How convenient. What's more, there's no denying that this is a Japanese cinema, from the faux-traditonal robes the staff are required to wear, to the bamboo encased in glass and zen garden beneath the floor as you head to your screen. Wacky and marvellous in equal measure.

This isn't all to poo-poo the Movix in Shijo, my regular multiplex. It's perhaps a more convenient location and is perfectly functional (the digital lens projection screening of Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End looked stunning and perhaps increased my enjoyment of the film), but the Toho Cinema just seems a little more...magical. Maybe I'd just been missing the pre-screening notices missing from the Movix, which instead has a series of short stop-motion animations featuring a couple of bunnies and their carrot nemeses. But Toho had a non-sequitorial Shrek ident (with the green ogre chancing the 'S' of 'Toho Cinemas' to resemble the 'S' of 'Shrek'), a Dolby ident featuring the recycled-rubbish stylings of Stomp (weren't they big, like, ten years ago?), and a hilariously awful song telling you not to smoke/talk/kick the chairs in front. It's not like I liked these teeny segments, but they were part of the cinema experience I'd been missing.

Of course, we got the usual trailers, with some of the worst cases of voiceover announcing I've ever heard. Gone are the hallowed vocals of Don LaFontaine, Hal Douglas and Redd Pepper, hello completely inappropriate Japanese guy! For Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, they just subtitled the original moody and mysterious voice, only to have a completely different voice cheerfully announce "HAREE POTAA to Hushichou no Kishidan!". Similarly, the trailer for The Messengers had it's creepiness completely quashed when it was announced it had been renamed "GOSUTO HAUSU!" (maybe alluding to absolutely nuts 70's J-horror Hausu). But at least we got Bruce Willis introducing the Die Hard 4.0 trailer in partial Japanese (even if he's no match for his Japanese double). However, it has to be Japan's anti-piracy "Save Our Movies" campaign which provides the biggest laughs. An overly sincere voice advises us on the dangers of piracy coupled with wonderful paintings of dodgy looking men taping films in the cinema or selling bootleg DVDs, as onlookers scream and cry in despair. Best part has to be the painting of the teenager downloading a film off the internet while his friend/brother/playmate sleeps in the bed opposite. The maniacal grin on his face and his non-mouse-clasping hand in claw-like contortion is just so over-the-top, it's hard to take seriously.

Speaking of things that are hard to take seriously, I should probably actually talk a little about 300. And yes, it is perhaps the most ridiculously overblown slice of hard men doing hard things since the Stath killed a lot of people very well in Crank. It all looks rather nifty, a lot of people die in slow-motion, and there's plenty of flesh to keep both boys and girls happy (see, Manday Movie Night doesn't discriminate). Xerxes is perhaps the silliest villain in recent memory, and sometimes it's earnestness is just plain daft, but I wouldn't have it any other way. It also makes you wish everyone nowadays went around talking in clever ye-olde-speak-style quips, and the lines from the trailer have become so instantly legendary, I was giggling in anticipation when they finally got round to saying them. The controversy surrounding it's historical inaccuracies and supposed anti-Iranian agenda was completely out of proportion - let the record show it's based on a graphic novel, not a textbook, and it's narrated from the point of view of a Spartan anyway - who I was likened to mid-way through the movie, so pretty much every scene then on, I was David Wenham (ooh-da-lally!). Hell, I deliberately didn't shave my beard off to go see it and if I didn't like it, I would have shaved it off by now...though I'm tempted to style it like Hans Gruber in readiness for Monday...sorry, Manday.

All These Things That I've Done

2007-06-08T10:01:00.000+01:00

Here's a general update covering all the various happenings I've been involved with during the past two and a half months or so. It's a little bit like the Datablast over the credits of Bad Influence!, but this time, you don't have to set the video to record. Various pictures and information can be found by clicking on the links. So, without further ado...

UNIVERSITY
Easter Monday was all but ignored as it marked the first day of our return to Doshisha after a long spring break (Christian university or no, it's completely ignored in Japan; despite it's commercial potential and confectionary slant, sakura season's all the rage at that time). New students, new staff, new lesson format - all because Japan commences it's academic year in April as opposed to the UK's September start. Unfortunately, the enthusiasm I hoped would see me through to the end has dwindled somewhat, partly because my departure date has been confirmed (August 20th calendar kids!), but also because the lessons have been less than inspiring. There's far more of an emphasis on jumping-through-hoops regarding getting through the kanji and grammar points, and certain sensei don't seem up to scratch. That said, the cult of former cat-owner and dedicated follower of fashion, Yamamoto-sensei (author of Animacy and Reference), who takes us for Language in Japan (my only class in English, believe it or not), knows no bounds. Tuesday afternoons will not be the same without him.

Outside of class, we were treated to a lavish welcome party at a nearby hotel, which ended up with about 40 of us by the side of the Kamo river, drinking into the night and getting to know the new Californian crew. It was at the party where I was asked by the International Centre if I was willing to write a little composition in English about my experiences at Doshisha and in Kyoto, a little vox pop thing to be included in promotional materials for getting foreign students to come to the university. I happily obliged, and while what I turned in wasn't the best thing I'd ever written (there was a miniscule word limit), I got a photo shoot out of it. So, expect to see pictures of me looking happy and talking to people I'd only really just met as if we were the bestest of friends about airports around the world (well, we had to think of some conversation topic while we were being snapped). I think it's going to be published in July, and I will receive a complementary copy then. More promotional skills were needed for an evening of talks and discussions between foreign and Japanese students at Doshisha. This involved myself, Baptiste and Parn giving a 15-minute PowerPoint-aided presentation on SOAS and London in Japanese and English. I spent most of my segment reading straight from my speech (even if Baptiste and Wakita-sensei wrote about 97% of it), but I think we successfully sold the SOAS experience to the attendees - though the Thai crew upstaged us on the tomfoolery front with their presentation.

The other events of note at university were a small exhibition of the work of Bernard Faucon, mannequin photographer and inspiration behind Oh! Mikey, which included six of his collection, positioned around the atrium of one of the buildings, and the opportunity to skip classes to see the Aoi Matsuri, perhaps the most boring festival in the world, which began it's procession from the nearby Imperial Palace. But the highlight was the Doshisha vs Ritsumeikan baseball game. This was my first baseball game ever, so I couldn't miss one that was not only between rivals, but also in Japan, where it's all done a little differently. Armed with our Cheerstix™, our large block of gaijin supporters was positioned right next to the band, with cheerleaders and ouendan (male cheerleading crew, decked in faux-military or Shinto-inspired garb) to the front. We also had some loony middle-aged hardcore fan behind us, with his trouser legs rolled up and a headband worn tight, singing along to all the official chants (aided by placards) with gusto. However, when we started to sing our own chants, call out our own words of support and instigate Mexican waves, they didn't know how to react (except for a few the school students below us who happily got involved). It seems even the fun of spectator sport needs to be organised and coordinated in Japan. However, I would get up to my feet and dance every time they played a burst of Summer Medley (though most bizarre ditty must go to the use of the Police Academy theme, of all things). As for the actual game, we trounced the opposition (though we were to lose overall by the third day of play).

BIRTHDAYS
This has been something of a big birthday season, with everyone celebrating in various different ways. Parn took us all out to The LockUp in Shijo, one of a chain of horror/prison-themed food and drink establishments, which features spooky cocktails, sexy prison-warden waitresses, and, twice a night, an outbreak of crazed serial killers and monste rs who terrify the customers. Highly recommended only-in-Japan silliness. Ilan's day out involved an early afternoon karaoke session (with PanPan giving it his all) and dinner at Athletix, our all-you-can-eat restaurant of choice, it would seem.

My birthday landed on the second day of the new term, the first time since I can remember that it's not been within the spring holidays. I decided we go for beer and (surprisingly agreeable) fish and chips at The Hub in Shijo-Karasuma. While it was not the most authentic 'English pub' I've been to (they were playing baseball on the telly!), done as it was like faux-American diners have all kinds of random junk on the walls, it was pleasant enough. Various amigos came and went over the course of the evening (being it a school night and all), but much confusion arose from there being another, smellier, dirty predatory gaijin-infested Hub in Sanjo. Josh turned up late as a result, as did Tal and (doing a quick Japan trip) Aurelien, who had walked up and down Shijo-dori because a simple mistake regarding underground exit numbers. Nevertheless, we ate and drank and played table football and it was good fun (even if I had very little time to enjoy all the lovely presents I was sent).

Other people with cause for celebration included Sarah (capping off a wonderfully sunny day I spent catching the last of the sakura, with drinks and jollity by the river, and Alice and Tingshan joining us), Talyn (a massive Italian meal, followed by lots of fun playing the Wii), and Anthony (a surprise party in the dormitory basement, with a great turnout, lots of food and drink, and a Smash Bros. tournament). Most recently, there was a massive gathering in celebration of Josh's 21st, again at Athletix. 66 people were in attendance (including Iwao-sensei, Matsumoto-sensei and Yonezawa-sensei), and it was an absolutely wild time. We then managed to squeeze half that number into one karaoke room, though admittedly, I sang and chose a disproportionate amount of tunes - hey, if someone else wants to sing, they gotta enter a song, right?

VISITORS
A variety of chums swung by my way during this time, and I tried my very best to see them all. Ryu was in town while I was in Tokyo (more on that later), but we managed to meet up with Tal and Anthony for arcade games a-plenty. Chris, Lucy and Th om were stopping off in Kansai in various directions, but stayed in Mukaijima with me. Risto joined me and them for a gig (more on that later) and some karaoke, and Thom and I met up with Josh for Beckham cocktails at an izakaya by Doshisha. I spent a brief afternoon with Jona, his parents, and Alice at Njio Castle. Dan was able to join us for Parn's birthday, with tales of snowboard injury and Okinawan sunburn, and, as mentioned before, I was able to meet up with Tingshan and Aurelien during their brief Kyoto stints.

And in Golden Week, I was able to welcome Rob on his visit to Japan, just as he had kindly put us up for the night in Beijing. One day was spent on an epic temple trek of east Kyoto, taking in Yasaka-jinja, Kiyomizu-dera, lunch at a wonderful little bakery/cafe, got some free hugs from Japanese students outside the art museum, Nanzenji and Hojo Garden (followed by a trek up the neighbouring mountain), then a walk down the Testugaku no Michi (Path of Philosophy) to Ginkakuji. We were suitably shagged out by the end of it. We also spent a considerable amount of time in Shijo and Sanjo, watching the annual Kamogawa Odori (with local maiko, geisha and actors performing traditional plays and dances), as well as indulging in games of pool and arcade games. We even managed to squeeze in Sanjusangen-do, one of my very favourite temples in Kyoto, and we spent another day in Nara (more on that later). It was only a few days (Derby then headed off to see Ryu in Tokyo), but it was great to see him again, and it was good to get a trial run at doing the local tour thing before Mater and Mish-Mash come.

TRIPS
Not long after my return from Thailand, I was due to meet up with the scholarship foundation again. Again, I took the shinkansen into Shinagawa and then headed to Roppongi for lunch and conversation. I felt I wasn't quite as talkative this time round, on account of having already introduced myself before, and again the sushi box defeated me, but they all laughed-out-loud when I told them that most people in the UK would like probably prefer to see Prince Charles skipped in line to the throne and Prince William made King instead. We then got our photo taken wearing hats from around the world.

While I was in Tokyo, I stayed with Mr. John Dykes, who was a true gentleman and host (as one would expect), going to great lengths to secure me bedding, taking me out for drinks and nosh, and generally keeping me entertained. I also got to meet up with Pete, who had just got back from Hanako's graduation ceremony, and we hung around Shinjuku, taking in some of the sights, before a trip to the infamous Yasukuni Shrine, and its neighbouring war museum. We then met up with Hanako in the evening, ending up in a bar several storeys up, with inner decor made to look like a cave. But of course. Even bumped into Maria in Shinjuku completely out of the blue - yay, that's all the SOAS Kyoto people met finally! But I had to go all the way to Tokyo to do it!

Another trip closer to home involved a visit to Yoshino ('The World Heritage'). We'd been told by friends already there that it was just a little bit further from Nara, but it turned out to be a hell of a lot further. Plus, it was raining a lot and by the time Baptiste and I got there, the others were just about to leave. We pressed on regardless, and took the long winding bus ride up the mountains to reach the key vantage points. Unfortunately, the damp conditions somewhat reduced the overall splendour of the sakura, but it was still worth visiting just to get out into the open air (though we despaired at the degree of mountain destruction and polluting fumes spilling out of factory chimneys we saw en route).

And I also took Rob for a great day out in Nara. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and the deer were, for the most part, sleeping. Of course, the Todai-ji was the main port of call, but we managed to cram in a sizeable amount of sight-seeing in a short space of time. We found a little bar down an alley and up some steps for a quiet drink before a return visit to my favourite okinomiyaki restaurant, which was just as good as I remembered it being.

GIGS
Chris, Lucy and Thom arrived in town the evening I was going to see Hoover's Ooover play a gig, so they joined me and Risto at the Mojo venue on Shijo-dori. The supporting acts were a mixed bag, and the lack of audience reaction (barely registering an applause in between tracks) was perhaps indicitive of this. To be fair, openers Decotoria and similar rock group Automat were fun, if unoriginal, and Rihiko Kurapu (careful how you say that) provided cute acoustic fluff. But by god, we were not prepared for the tragedy that was Splash Lover (I refuse to go to the trouble of putting the star they write in the middle of their name). Fronted by an impossibly irritating girl with all the sincerity of a children's TV presenter and filled with instantly forgettable twee guitar pop, they make Busted and McFly look like death metal. Chris and Lucy felt compelled to leave until it was over, while Risto, Thom and myself stayed to witness the full extent of the horror, which involved a bizarre telephone conversation between the lead-singer and her hand, and desperate goading of the audience into performing the kind of choreographed hand waves and dance routines that would make even the Wiggles tell you to go away and die. And what was worse, the everyone lapped it up! Everyone except us. Anyway, Hoover's Ooover finally appeared and made us all feel better, playing tracks from Art.No.5 and their latest release, as well as the wonderful Collection. They were very upbeat, jokey and talkative, and after the show, I got to meet the drummer and guitarist, bought the new album, and told them I'd first seen them on Adam and Joe Go Tokyo, which made them very happy indeed. Afterwards, we met up with Baptiste, and then headed to a bar round the corner called Yikey. It was notable for the area at the back we sat in, which was decked out as if we were in a 70's record producer's lounge, with the walls covered in feathers, leading to much discussion on what kind of avian holocaust could have taken place there.

April Fool's Day was marked with a trip to Osaka Namba Hatch, to see the legendary Cornelius live. His Fantasma album got me into Japanese music in the first place, so I was incredibly excited to finally see him in concert. However, I was a little worried that, being as it was billed the "Sensuous Synchronised Show", it would rely predominantly on his most recent work, which I didn't like as much as his earlier stuff. But there was no need to be concerned, as Keigo Oyamada and his assembled group performed tracks from the length of his solo work, accompanied by the visually arresting music videos he's well known for. Even then, it was fascinating to watch the latest tracks being performed live, as I came to appreciate just how complex and creative they were. Oyamada is quite a shy figure, so there was little audience interaction at first, bar a bit of creative videoplay, filming and 'sampling' the audience. But as the gig went on, he seemed to settle into it more, and then came the surprise of pulling a member of the audience out onto the stage. Shocked and stunned, the lucky punter then got to play the theremin, hand aided by Cornelius, during Brand New Season, and then received a lei (Hawaiian garland) for his troubles. Towards the end, the audience also got to play around with a noisebox of some kind, and when it all came to a close, Oyamada looked truly pleased and appreciative.

A few weeks later, I had an all-night party double bill. First there was a return visit to Kyoto Metro for Second Royal's 7th Anniversary party, as well as celebrating the release of Halfby's new single, Star Track. Unfortunately, this time I was Billy No-Mates, but it was probably for the best, as I was disappointed this time round. Though the DJ's were the same, they played very little of their own material, instead focusing on predominantly British indie rock, which isn't especially danceable. More to the point, I knew virtually none of it, which left me feeling super-inadequate as the Japanese attendees sung along to all the words. In English. Still, I got a badge, a CD and a T-shirt for coming, and the visuals were all pretty, so it wasn't all bad. The next evening was Mukaijima's Welcome Party for the new residents, which was much the same deal as before - food, drink, performances, bingo instead of a true-or-false quiz, followed by basement clubbing. Again, plenty of non-Mukaijima friends showed up, and while I didn't stay until the end this time, or follow the mini-crowd that went on to the World club in town for the remainer of the night/morning, it was still a wonderful way to waste one's time.

And towards the end of May was my third time seeing Polysics live; London, Nagoya and now Osaka, down Amerika-mura way. An unitiated Risto joined me on what was a very rainy evening, as we headed to the Big Cat, the largest venue I'd seen them in (though still not exactly massive, and still located in a department store). Again, it was a riotous affair, with much moshing, sweating and even crowd surfing (though they kept throwing the surfers back into the audience when they reached the front, which wasn't especially helpful). I even lost my trouser button in the chaos, with only the clinging persperation keeping everything in check. The setlist was a bit too reliant on all the fast noisy numbers, with little chance to catch your breath in between tracks. But most of the songs had a gimmick to keep it interesting, be it cheerleader pom-poms, vocoders, beer drinking, gas-mask wearing, or strapping a synth to one's waist for the (third if I recall) encore. The new tracks from Karate House played really well with the older material, especially Akai Master, Shizuka is a Machine Doctor and Zubaman, which bore a brand new chant to join the likes of "Toisu!" and "Polysics or DIE!!!!": "Oya kara Ko he!" (literally, "From parent to child!") - doesn't make any sense, but Polysics rarely does. They were definitely filming this gig, even so much as Risto and I got to scream into the camera post-gig, so hopefully I'll pop up on another live DVD release.

ENTERTAINMENT
And if gigs weren't enough to keep me entertained, I've found other ways to do the trick. I finally bought myself an Ice Blue Nintendo DS Lite of my very own, with the local Tsutaya having just got a new stock in for cheaper than I've seen them going for second hand elsewhere. Only 16,800 yen (about £70). No games of my own as of yet, but I've been borrowing and enjoying Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney from Baptiste, and we've been having 'Tetris Tuesdays' at Doshisha during lunch break. Oh, and I also got an electronic dictionary, but that's not especially interesting. Also, the latest season of 24 and the first series of Heroes came to an end. The former was perhaps the worst series yet, floundering in a puddle of it's own ludicrousness after such a gut-wrenchingly amazing start, and ultimately being really boring, something 24 should never be. The changes promised for Day 7 (a full week) by the producers better be spectacular. Meanwhile, Heroes has just been getting better and better. Yes, it has it's cheesy moments and irritating characters, but it crams more action, fun, geeky references and plot revelations per episode than a whole series of Lost (oh, boo-hoo to you too!).

Contrary to popular belief, I have gotten out of the house to have some fun too, though this also means sitting in a darkened room staring at a screen, but a bigger room, with a bigger screen, and lots of strangers. Doshisha screened Flags Of Our Fathers and Letters From Iwo Jima on subsequent weeks, which were both very well put-together and totally engrossing - there's not much that can be said about war that hasn't been said before, but it was still an experience worth having. Big blockbuster threequels Spider-Man 3 and Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End have received pretty nasty knocks from critics and fans alike, but I actually enjoyed them both quite a lot. Okay, so both were rather messily made and convoluted, but I thought they delivered what they set out to achieve pretty well. Sunshine was a strange beast indeed, visually far more arresting than Spidey and Pirates, and at a fraction of the cost. Highly derivative and a bit doolally, yes, but it created a sense of impending doom that made it unbelievably tense to watch. And just recently, Japan finally released Borat. For the small few who haven't seen it, ignore the hype - it's not the funniest film ever made, nor does it even reveal anything particularly scandalous about America (nothing could top the "In My Country There Is Problem" sequence from the TV show). To say that it doesn't make a mockery of the Kazahkstan people is a lie, and to say that it makes a mockery of it's subjects is also a lie. But what it does is deliver some very funny set-pieces, pushes the boundaries of comedy, and confirms Sacha Baron Cohen as quite an exceptional creator of comic characters. And I think the upcoming Bruno movie will not be quite as morally dubious or divisive as Borat has been.

And as for actual socialising, I've been bowling quite a bit, twice for real and once on the Wii. I managed a score of 226 first time round, which was pretty stunning. But when I came to put it into genuine practice with various Gaidai chums, it took me three games to get into the swing of it. Finally, I managed a score just over 150, which must be a personal best of mine (not exactly challenging the pros though). And while I didn't equal that score the next time I played, at a big foreign/Japanese student get-together, our team came third overall, scooping a mini box of Pretz sticks each. Huzzah! I then got drunk on screwdrivers. On a Sunday night and all. Tsk tsk. Other nights out involved much karaoke (I'll miss you when I'm gone!), yakiniku and hanging by Sanjo bridge (or in one case, underneath it thanks to an unexpected and spectacular lightning storm and downpour, on the evening of the Sun God Festival of all things).

END.

Spring 2007 > Thailand > Part IV

2007-06-01T08:56:00.000+01:00

REMAINS TO BE SEEN

After a long day of animal magic, our last day in Chiang Mai was for relaxational purposes only. Our time had come to end at our current hotel, so we moved into a smaller one closer into town. It was just a short trip from there to a little massage place where we could spend the afternoon getting our bodies attended to in various ways. While some of our party went for the traditional Thai massage (involving the kinds of contortion and pressure one would expect from a boa constrictor's embrace), my sun-sizzled flaky flesh was still a nuisance, so I decided to opt for the body-scrub. I lay down on the table/bed and my masseuse began to apply the warm sesame paste all over my skin, leaving me smelling like a baker's oven. At first, it felt quite nice, but as the paste began to cool, it felt really slimy and gooey. After I'd been coated, I washed it all off in the shower, then returned for the customary oil-rubbing session. It wasn't perhaps as relaxing as last time though, mainly because Ilan in the adjacent partition was giggling throughout, and when I lay face down the second time, I got my knackers in a twist, so to speak.

Moving swiftly on, we retired to our new lodgings to put our feet up, and I flicked on the television just as Back to the Future: Part II was getting underway (Marty was looking at the futuristic Texaco). And I watched it right through to the end. Man, that's a good movie, and it's even better when you stumble across it and just watch it then and there. Plus, you get to visit the past, the (then) present, an alternate present and the future! All in one film! Wonderful. It finished just in time for us to go to a Thai style yakiniku (meat grilling) place, which was a vast open-walled hall packed to the rafters. It was hot, noisy and smoky, but lots of fun. A lot got sizzled, but there were plenty of other ready-cooked dishes to keep us occupied (and full). Afterwards, we hit a bar for drinks and a little bit of bopping (though the R'n'B and the rather bland live band weren't especially compelling). We got a few supplies in readiness for our early drive the next day and called it a night.

And a long drive it was to. Utenshu-san had been a very useful asset to our team, even if she was a little lonely sometimes. One thing that was made clear was that she was a lesbian, and quite a butch one at that, and she did sometimes feel a little stigmatised about it, particularly regarding the relationship she had with Ilan in that they had to share rooms all the time, but this wasn't really the case. We were just never sure how much to involve her in our activities, as I'm not really used to having a driver in my everyday life. And as it was essentially a holiday with friends, it seemed a bit weird accomodating someone else you didn't really know, and also couldn't really communicate with due to the language barrier. But we tried, and by the end of the trip, I think we were all quite chummy. However, this drive did end up with us getting pulled over for speeding on the motorway and her getting fined a measly amount of change. It was a little bit of excitement on an otherwise unenventful journey.

Our destination was within an area that used to be the home to Thailand's original ancient capital. We waited for Parn's father outside the restaurant we'd be eating at, observing a pair of gibbons in a cage swinging about and playing. Gotta love them apes and monkeys. We were eating with various members of the local police constabulary, as we'd gotten used to on our Thai travels, and it was a rather delcious lunch if I recall. It wasn't the nicest thing there, but I got to eat some rather spiky, crispy fried little fish, caught in the river the restuarant overlooked, whole. Parn's pater took over driving duty now, and we made brief stops at some of the ruins at Si Satchanalai and Sukhothai, which were pretty ruined indeed, but I was surprised at the freedom we had to walk around them and climb their stairs. It would have made a perfect location for another stop-motion fight sequence as we had snapped back in the rocky valley and the reservoir, but time was short and the sun was blazing above. Back in the car, we continued our rather epic drive back to Bangkok, and although we got a little lost on the way (and passed some incredibly gaudy coaches that would make even Elton John blush), we managed to get back in time for a slap-up meal at The Sizzler. Tsssss.

JOURNEY'S END

The rest of our time in Bangkok (and Thailand, for that matter) is a little bit of a blur, having not documented it particularly well. And I'm sure there was one day we went to a mall which we had to leave because of a blackout, though beforehand I had scored a personal best at Point Blank (come to think of it, this was surely in Chiang Mai, but when and where, I can't remember). We spent much of the next day souvenir-hunting, eating and packing. One evening, we met up with Parn's old school friends and headed to a hip-hop club in town. We got their pretty early so we could bag ourselves some seats, and sat their drinking endless whiskey-cokes for serveral hours. The venue filled up but we stayed put, save for the odd necessary lavvy trip, and drunk more and more. By the time the driver came to pick us up, we were all already starting to regret the excesses we had reached, and by the time we got home, my head was pounding and spinning at the same time. I knew I didn't want to go to sleep in that state, so I tried to wake myself up before I drifted off. So I took a cold shower. Twice. It sort of worked a bit, but I felt so rotten. The most drunk I'd been before was the night out with the Johars in July last year, which culminated in us crashing a 30th birthday party for someone we didn't know. At all. But this time round, I didn't feel happy drunk but ill drunk instead. The next morning, we all stayed in bed and watched the DVD Baptiste bought in China of one of those 'funny adverts from around the world' style shows. Other than that, much of it was spent packing and getting everything in order for our return trip to Japan.

We left early in the morning of March 11th. We got into Beijing's aiport around breakfast time, and the officials yet again impressed with their incompetence. Knowing full well a flight was coming in, the staff at the transfer desk did their level best to be as unprepared as could be. We were perhaps second in line, and the desk jockey took our passes and began making phone calls and such. We waited and waited and waited - it soon became clear that they were all processing the passes of a large group of Japanese tourists behind us, who had all buggered off and moved to the next step. And they pretty much processed everyone else behind us before us too. They unceremoniously slapped stickers on us for reasons I can't imagine, other than to perhaps remind them we were indeed passengers and customers of the airline. At last we were cleared to get on the next flight and we lined up at the back of the queue to jump through another hoop, with yet another x-ray/metal detector jobbie. It all made little administrative sense. As we waited for our next departure, I went to get a little brekkie with my remaining currency. In front were a couple of Japanese businessmen after some coffee from the two Chinese vendors. And how did they communicate with each other? With broken English of course! Okay, so it's not too surprising when you think about it, but it still was an interesting spectacle, how members of two nations with such close ties resort to some cockamaney derivative limey-speak to say what they want to say.

We finally arrived home at about 1pm, and went our separate ways. Just before I hopped onto the train back into Kyoto, I stopped at a little vending stand for a drink and some bite-size Snickers snacks. As I ordered in Japanese, the nice lady who worked there was surprised to hear me speak Japanese and I told her about how I was studying the language at university in Kyoto. She smiled and gave me a "Ganbate!" ("Go for it!"). It was like I had just arrived at the start of my year. Ah, Japan! How I've missed your Kentucky Fried Chicken and your sparkling whale-free seas.

And that's that! Remember to check out more pics at Parn's facebook, Baptiste's Chiang Mai and Sukhothai sets and my Ancient Ruins and Miscellaneous Thailand sets.

And next comes the small task of giving you a rundown of everything that's happened in the past three months or so! And I'm going to try and do it all in one post, and keep it brief. I hope!

Spring 2007 > Thailand > Part III

2007-05-18T09:38:00.000+01:00

THE 309 STEPS

After a slow and lazy morning, we packed up and got ready to make the three hour car journey to Chiang Mai, Thailand's second city. On the way into town, there was a sign for the local English language radio station, named TITS Radio - I can't work out if they were being funny or clueless. We picked up Parn's girlfriend, Am, and then met with various family members for a whopping meal at a restaurant owned by a famous Thai singer, with photos of her adorning all the walls. And there was a guy upstairs playing a bit of traditional music from North Thailand. Despite the midges and mosquitos, it was a very nice setting.

Soon after, we took a stroll down the big night market, with assorted souvenirs, snacks and services up for grabs. Though the market itself was quite a wonderful thing, it attracted so many tourist punters, I felt sorry for the Thai stall-owners. Oh, of course, tourism is where the money's made, but someone should really do a study on the social anthropology of back-packers, because all variations on the theme were represented there: the bum-bags and bulges, the lads and ladettes, the friends of the earth, the middle-aged last-ditch sun and spirituality-seekers... It seems visiting a foreign country gives people a license to wear ridiculous clothes (which would, however, look fine and fitting on the local population), forego basic hygiene and act like a ponce. Whenever I travel, seeing fellow tourists (especially Western ones) almost always gives me an uncomfortable feeling, as it's like seeing a mirror image of yourself, except more like one you'd find in a fun house, contorted and twisted by the travel experience.

But enough self-loathing - I purchased a few postcards from a nice local photographer, while Ilan, Parn, Am and Baptiste all browsed and bought various nick-nacks. Then, it was time for us to crash at our hotel, which was far grander than any of us could have predicted; again, we felt we were far from worthy of the luxury being bestowed upon us. Hell, we wouldn't have minded even if the place stunk of durians (but there was a sign in the foyer forbidding them, so we were safe).

The next morning gave us the opportunity to try out the yummy hotel breakfast buffet and watch some godawful television. Baptiste and I despaired at the hollow use of English bandied about by the Asian TV networks, especially one documentary we were treated to about a Korean pop star called M - the inane voice-over built him up as if he were the second coming, and how running about in the sand for his album cover, choreographing a new dance routine or writing almost all his singles himself were like some incredible gifts he would bestow upon his fans as thanks for their undying support. I'm sure he's a lovely guy, but the media-managing ass-kissery was too much to stomach that morning. But more on tummy upsets later.

We took the long winding mountain road outside of Chiang Mai, up to Doi Suthep Temple. Apparently, Chiang Mai university students would have to run all the way up the road as part of their initiation ceremony. Can't say I'd want to join them. Indeed, the turning left to right started to make Ilan a little car sick, and she soon became quite attached (read: addicted) to something equivalent to a Vicks vapour stick to soothe her dizziness (even if it was actually designed to unblock stuffy noses). Once we arrived, we took a look at the 309 naga-adorned steps to the temple and thought it would be a fun idea to race to the top. Despite the intense heat and bright sunlight. Of course, we would have to do our best to avoid the other stair-climbers and mutli-lingual begging kids, but Baptiste, Ilan and myself thought we'd give it a go. Probably a big mistake. Ilan got a head start, and then Baptiste and I charged on ahead. We were quick to overtake Ilan, and we were neck-and-necking it for the next 100 steps or so, but then I took the lead. However, about 200 steps in, I slowed to a virtual crawl, my stiff legs taking each step one by one with gradually slacking pace. Concerned Mr. B was just behind, I pressed on and reached the top, only to see that I was in fact a great deal ahead. Head pounding, legs aching and pores sweating, I staggered into the conveniently located shop to get bottles of water for the competitors, then slouched in the shade to await the rest of the party. Baptiste showed up and quickly headed to the lavvy for a quick vomit and Ilan, Am and Parn arrived together at a more intelligent pace. We got our entry tickets (well, the Thai nationals didn't have to, of course, and Ilan managed to get by with being Thai yet again) and proceeded inside.

No sooner had we entered than I had to sit down - I hadn't recovered quite as much as I had thought, and was feeling quite dizzy and sick. At least it was a peaceful environment to recuperate, except for the occassional soft-ring of one of the numerous bells that surrounded the inner sanctum. Behind the temple was a wonderful purple blossom tree in front of a balcony ledge that would have offered a view to Chiang Mai if it were not for the fog - instead, it created a surreal experience of being so high up that we were surrounded by clouds. Inside the temple itself was a wonderful gold stepe and a variety of Buddhist sculptures. Am took the lead and gave us each candles and flowers which we carried as we walked around the stepe 3 times, reciting a different name to ourselves as we did. There were also different Buddhist statues to represent which day of the week you were born on, and one of those stick-shaky fortune telling things. I've forgotten the specifics of the corresponding slip that told of my future (though I remember it being pretty positive), but it was the number that struck me - 23. Now, I've always had a 'thing' about the number twenty-three, before I became aware of all the discordian belief theories and the Jim Ca rrey movie. And it had followed me to Thailand in a situation involving the telling of my future. Simple coincidence, or greater forces at work? Uhhhhh...the former. Or is it? Anyway, just as we were about to leave, we were sprung upon by a couple of local chancers who confronted Ilan, and this time her Thai appearance went against her, as they started speaking to her in Thai, apparently criticising her for not wearing suitable attire (even though they had ignored the skimpier Western tourists a few metres away). We upped and went with little hesitation.

Back in town, we stopped off for a big load of ice cream, but Ilan still wasn't feeling too well from the drive (and probably the stair race) and Baptiste made a mess on his arm and plopped much of a scoop on the floor like some excitable baby. However, there was then an unexpected turn of events in that Am's cousin had invited us to his house and then was to take us all out for dinner at the Riverside restaurant. Unfortunately, we were all very tired and suffering from varying degrees of illness. I'd kind of had enough of Thai food at that point, but it turned out while I was glancing at the menu at the tasty steaks and burgers, we'd already had our food ordered for us - another load of Thai dishes I couldn't stomach, plus a lot of beer to go with it. It was an exceedingly generous gesture, but we weren't in the mood, and the language barrier made it even harder to express at least something beyond a simple 'thanks'. Originally, the plan had been to stay and watch the live music, but the band didn't start playing until we had finished eating and we couldn't see them playing anyway. Basically, we didn't mean to be rude but that was clearly the impression we gave, and it didn't sit very well with any of us. It was a case of misplaced kindness, catching us at a bad time and not letting us have a say on what we wanted to do on our holiday. We called it a night around nine, but stayed up for hours in the hotel yakking away as we often did.

PACHYDERMATA AND SQUAMATA ENCOUNTERS

It was an early wake-up call for us all to take a trip to the Maesa Elephant Camp outside the city. However, by the time we got there, there wasn't going to be another show for a good few hours, so we decided to buy our tickets for later and backtrack to Mae Rim Snake Farm. Loud hip-hop and dance music played from the speakers and a giant billboard advertised it as being home to an anaconda wrestler as the star attraction. It later turned out he wasn't there at the moment as he had left with a number of specimens to be involved with the new Rambo flick, John Rambo, which was shooting in Thailand at the time. And having seen the latest preview, it seems Rambo is indeed spending his time tending to a snake farm of his own, before going back into action and exploding Burmese troops into big splats of grue. Anyway, we had a brief look around at the variety of serpents on offer, got briefly concerned by an empty cage, marvelled at the writhing tangled twists in the snake pit, and felt a little bit sad looking into the rabbit and chicken cages - luckily, we weren't around for feeding time, but we were just in time for the show.

The format of the show consisted of one guy pissing off a bunch of snakes while another commentated in a mix of Thai and hilarious English (of which I will add quotes to the description of the show). And scaring the audience witless. All of this took place in a little circular area, but the act would frequently be brought right up to the audience. Whether they liked it or not (and we were sat within easy reach). First off were three cobras, which he would tease and taunt until they made a go for him. "Oh, be careful Snakeman! Wawawawa BAN! Wawawawa BAN! Wow, Snakeman! Watch out Snakeman!" At one point, he even gave a cobra a tender kiss on the head. "Hey, he kiss the snake! Everybody take picture! Maybe he's homosexual!" He then proceeded to 'milk' the snake for venom and offer it to members of the audience if they wanted a sip. "It's not Johnnie Walker Blue Label!" Next were a trio of smaller snakes, which was a similar deal as before, except it culminated in him holding all three in his hands, with the neck of one in his mouth (if you can imagine a snake having a neck, considering they kind of are all neck). This was followed by the jumping snake. They made a big show of trying to get it out of the box, as if it were going to leap out at any moment. Then suddenly, something was flung in our direction, landing just by Ilan, causing her to let out a very long scream that did not die, even when it was revealed to be just a piece of rope. The jumping snake leapt about, latching on to the snake-wrangler's pantalons at one point, and even managed to slither out of the mini arena, towards the audience, a number of times. At one point, the wrangler hypnotised the snake and made it lie on it's back, before taking it round the audience for all to touch. It was indeed very still and calm, reminding me of the old chicken and chalk hypnosis trick. "Hey, don't worry if he bites - you die in 30 minutes, but hospital 20 minutes away!" Finally was the python ("Peetan!"), which offered up it's services to wrap around people's necks, and Parn happily obliged, as he also did having a smaller snake wrap around his head in laurel-esque fashion - not that Olly'd approve (see what I did there?). It was the kind of experience that flaunted so many safety measures that you wouldn't be able to get away with it in other parts of the world - but I guess it was all the more thrilling for it.

It was now about time to return to the elephant camp. Utenshu-san (our driver, if you recall) left us to go get some lunch first as, according to Parn, she hadn't had much of a breakfast. Okay, I thought, followed by WH-WH-WHAT? I'd been there at the breakfast buffet and she had loads! Ah, never mind. While we waited around, we got to look at some elephants! Elephants are pretty cool - like giant deformed cows really, and the smell of them (and their leavings) made me think of Somerset. Utenshu-san soon rejoined us and we were all set to go on a half-hour elephant ride around the park on top of the beasts. It was a little awkward sitting on a bench perched on a pachyderm rocking from side to side with your feet kind of nestling on it's neck with the 'driver' on the head. Not the most practical method of travel, but certainly one of the most fun I've been on. We went up and down hill, and into a little creek for a bit of splashing and trunk squirting. But by the end, I had a rather soggy, sweaty bum, which was a little unpleasant (why did I even mention it here?). Plus, my elephant was called Poo Billy.

We finished in time for a Cornetto and for the elephant show. An initial parade of fifteen or so nellies of different sizes and ages welcomed the audience with bows, squeaks and trunk waving. Then came the performances, which ranged from simple instructions (like kneeling, picking up hats, doing funny dances and such) to more complex displays, in particular the football penalty shoot-out and the art showcase, as the trunked-ones painted a variety of images which were quickly snapped up by those prepared to pay a hefty price tag. At the end, we all got a chance to take a picture with the smaller ones, which left a big patch of slobber on my trouser leg. At least I didn't have to pose with any of the male elephants which were visibly 'excited' during the final parade.

We had a late lunch at the park (which Utenshu-san also helped herself to) and returned to the hotel to rest. Come dinner time, we left Baptiste behind to sleep in front of the TV, on the French language channel, and ended up at a little restaurant by a different night market close by. After spaghetti for lunch, it was time to have another Western dish to continue my Thai food break and I chose the chicken cordon bleu (which was, according to the menu, "raped in bread crums"). Suitably satisfied, we did a little market shopping before returning to the hotel, where we ate strawberries I'd bought, dipped in sugar, from a brandy glass (there's only so much serving preparation one can do in a hotel room).

For photos, check out my Parn's Facebook, Baptiste's Chiang Mai set, and, of course, my own sets for Doi Suthep Temple and Snakes and Elephants.

Coming Soon: my adventure reaches its end - goodybe to Chiang Mai, and return to Bangkok. Plus! Sesame massage! Ancient ruins! Horrible drunkenness!

Spring 2007 > Thailand > Part II

2007-05-11T09:00:00.000+01:00

FRIENDS REUNITED

Still reeling from "Off Load Weapons Room" next to the x-ray scanner at our departure airport (guns okay on board, just leave the ammo, okay?), Ilan was there to greet us at the Bangkok aiport upon our return from Koh Samui. She appeared to have settled into the holiday swing of things nicely, but before we returned to Parn's place, his mother took us all out for a dinner with more dishes than I've had hot dinners...you get what I mean. Then we went to the night market we had spotted previously for some omiyage (holiday souvenirs and gifts). We didn't realise quite what the scale of the market was until we arrived at an outdoor music concert and beer garden. As I walked into the venue area, a large European middle-aged man with sun-dried tomato skin staggered in front of me with his Thai wife. And as she walked past, she gave me a look that could only be described as a mix of "Get me out of here" and "I want you for breakfast". The stage itself had little desktop game machines and karaoke booths for one-song hire - just more examples of Thai ingenuity in public entertainments, such as the arcade machines which are just PS2's in boxes, and the purikura (photobooth machines) which were just a digital camera, a computer and a printer.

We sat down near the front drinking various German brews and snacking on chili-laced cashew nuts (which we used to make spicy beer, the thirst-inducing/thirst-quenching beverage). We got the full brunt of homo-erotic dance routines and mangled Thai versions of well-known R'n'B tunes (I believe their cover of The Black Eyed Peas' "My Humps" didn't contain any consonants). We also took a ride on La Roue de Paris (surely 'de Bangkok', non?) which was clearly of great joy to Baptiste. For some strange reason, Ilan insisted we spend the majority of our ride posing as if we were in a Chanel commercial. We also got to hang around with one of those painted silver dudes who you pay to make them move a little bit. Oh, I guess you're paying for the time it took for him to paint himself and get his outfit on and all, but next time, just think about what you are actually gaining from this transaction. It's a bit ridiculous, that's all. Anyway, we soon headed back home to unpack and sort out our recently returned things, and we could finally present our gifts from China to the Prasjaksattrus, which, although in woeful imbalance as a token of thanks to the incomparable generosity bestowed upon us, were happily accepted.

Another day in Bangkok was on the cards, and again we were to frequent numerous department stores to get the full-on Thai shopping experience. Baptiste decided there was too much of Thailand to see without a method of recording his adventures and bought himself a new point-and-shoot digital camera like my one to tide him over until he could invest in another one like that he had before Shanghai. After lunch and ice cream (as is de rigeur in such a climate), we thought it would be a good idea to head to the Jade Temple, but were dismayed to find it had already closed before 3.30pm. It seemed strange that they would shut a major tourist attraction when the temperature and sunlight would be at their most bearable (it was a similar deal elsewhere). Who'd want to go walk around out of the shade in the intense noon heat? Near the entrance, a couple of shady guys advised us that it would be a better idea to go on a boat trip along the Chao Phraya River. It sounds rather fishy, but I just leave Parn to natter away with them in Thai to get all the details. We make our way to the pier, but our driver tries to broker a different deal and manages to get us a trip for half price, but we end up having half the fun. All we end up doing is going in a little motor boat, spending 10 minutes to look around Wat Arun (a temple decorated with smashed crockery and the like), then back on the boat to the pier. It was an unbelievable rip-off as well: 150 baht for the boat, 20 to actually land the damn thing at the temple, 40 because we took some silly snaps with those boards where you stick your head on the body of historical/spiritual characters (the cost of which was sneakily hidden in the corner - I wonder how many people coughed up on their own free will), 20 to get into the temple (of which the second floor was cornered off for renovations) and an extra 20 for Ilan to hire a top as she wasn't suitably dressed for the Wat. Okay, so all this mounts to mere pounds and pennies, but it was a lot for half an hour of mild entertainment in the context of Thai prices, and left me very miffed indeed.

But no time to stay angry - we had more packing to do, as we were to take the night train to Parn's hometown of Phrae, in the north of Thailand. We filled up on pizza before being dropped off at the station, expecting to see some grand building much like the department stores we'd witnessed, only to find it was pretty much a platform and a track. Once on board our train, we found our sleeper carriage and our little green bunks. We try to entertain ourselves as much as possible while trying to disturb our fellow passengers as little as possible. Brief rounds of Squares, Consequences and Categories pretty much fulfill our travel game quotient, but we all thought it would be a good idea to actually get some shut-eye. While the bunks were comfortable, the frequent stops punctuate my REM and there's little sense of time or space due to the constant lighting and lack of windows. What's more, a perplexing sticker in my bunk labelled SHORT FISHERMAN PANT had focused all my attention upon it. Portrait of the sleep deprived.

PHRAE AND PREJUDICE

We arrived at our final stop around 6:15am, and were picked up by our new driver (who would be called Utenshu-san from now on, as in the Japanese) to take us to Parn's place. And what a grand place indeed. A wonderful teak building, with a number of outlying houses and some lovely open spaces. Plus, Parn had his own standalone quarters (complete with en suite shower-room, big telly and drumkit - natch) which would become our base of operations. But at that moment, it was sleepy time for us all unti 11am, when we woke to have lunch (a variety of yummy dishes served with a mini-basket of sticky rice each - our staple meal for this portion of our adventure) with various family members, colleagues, friends and staff. We also spent a large part of our time posing for photographs, soaking up the sunshine, and, in my case, freaking out little children - not to tears, but there was something about me that caused them to stare, before running and hiding. It was probably then about time for some proper sight-seeing.

First stop was the old governor's house, which made me feel like the baddie in Commando - I could picture Arnie slaughtering a mini-army on the lovely rear garden lawn. It was also home to a collection of old typewriters and massive Casio caluclatos. Plus, there was an actual jail in the basement, prompting all kinds of convict-related banter - but what does it say about me that I was the last to leave? Next, we visited Pratubjai House, a grand teak building home to a variety of memorabilia, handicrafts and local artefacts. It was also our first encounter with hiked-up prices for farang (the Thai term for foreigners). I can see how raising the prices is in someway justified, asuming you have a greater income living abroad, but it still makes you feel even more like an outsider when you already feel like one naturally. And it'd be a nuisance if you were an actual resident, having to continually prove your status every time you went to a tourist hot-spot. What's more, Ilan managed to get away with looking Thai enough to get the discount. Still, at least we all got keyrings thrown in with the entry fee. And finally, we took a trip to Phae Muang Phi, a rocky valley created by forest flooding. The unusal rock formations would make it a perfect shooting location for a Star Trek episode (Kirk years, obviously) or a prehistoric epic, and we had much fun clambouring about the sand and stone. Plus, we saw a bunch of lizards and a rock that looked like a man's thingy!

We returned via Parn's aunt's cafe for a few drinks and met his little cousins who accompanied us to a festival taking place at a nearby temple that evening. We were almost the only farangs there, prompting the monks to give us a cheery "Hello". Various rituals were taking place, as hundreds gathered to pray, light candles, receive blessings, ring bells and such. But there were also all kinds of stalls, games, rides and performaces taking place. We snacked on candy floss and played a darts game very badly (clearly my previous success in Xi'an was a fluke). However, I was more concerned with the nasty bit of chewing gum stuck to my shoe, picking up all manner of dirt, sand and grit from the festival ground. Lovely. Regardless, we returned to Parn's shack for drinking games (half-remembered from Hokkaido, but none that really worked as well as they ought to have done) and general larking about until 3am. As you do on holiday, right?

RESERVOIR DOGS

Today's excursion didn't sound like a great deal of fun (a trip to the reservoir), but turned out to be one of the most enjoyable and relaxing afternoons of the trip. We took a motorboat out into the water, dropped off a couple of fishermen, and then stopped off at a kind of floating shack. On board was a bar, kitchen, music and karaoke system, and a group of people already enjoying snacks and drinks. We took our own little spot to relax and enjoy the views, but then the shack actually started to move and set sail. It was perhaps the least hydrodynamic (or whatever the water equivalent of aerodynamic is) vessel I'd ever been on, but it was a wonderful and surreal experience to drift along the water surface in a thatch-roofed hut, with on-board catering. We relaxed by the water's edge into the sunset, and had a thoroughly good time - even if a gecko shat on me, leaving a trouser stain that still remains.

We returned home via the video store and rented a copy of V for Vendetta on VCD (having tried the previous evening on DVD format, only to find it was a Region One copy - not Thailand's region at all). We all thoroughly enjoyed it, even though the ending was delayed when Baptiste paused the film for a quick loo break, only to return and press the eject button instead of play. Okay, it was dark, but as it was a VCD, that meant we had to start from the beginning of the second disc, and with the remote control missing, we had to let it play until the part we left off, around 15 minutes from the end. The rest of the evening and early morning consisted of scaring Ilan witless. I think Baptiste said an off-hand comment about strangers peering into her windows at night which meant she couldn't get to sleep, so we slept in her room, and she stayed with Parn. But then Parn and Ilan decided to get their revenge by tapping on our window and making spooky noises from outside. At first, we pretended not to notice, but then Baptiste popped up and I stuck my hand against the glass. Their squeals alerted the dogs, so they had to hurry back inside. But just as they were recuperating, I dragged myself into their room Sadako-style and gave Ilan the heebie-jeebies. And what lesson have we learned? Don't try and out-scare Mr. Steele - suffice to say, I would have won the scream competition in The Worst Witch hands-down. Or even up for that matter.

Some of these pictures are courtesy of Parn, and can be seen on his Facebook page, or try out the relevant Flickr pages of Baptiste and yours truly.

Next Time: Chiang Mai - more temples and markets and massage, plus elephants and snakes galore!

Spring 2007 > Thailand > Part I

2007-05-02T06:43:00.000+01:00

HAPPY LANDINGS

We arrive at Bangkok's new Suvarnabhumi Airport past midnight, which is all very stylish and swish, although it is apparently already falling apart, with a runway starting to crack up, and ghost stories a-plenty after a construction worker was trapped in a pillar of cement. A 'visa-upon-arrival' counter mocks our situation and while it's a long shot, we wait to see all the bags claimed before making our own lost baggage claim. The staff are extremely helpful and well-spoken, and we give them our details and are advised to get in touch with them once we can confirm the situation in Beijing (thinking about it now, we never called back - I hope they're not still looking for our lugggae). Obviously, the first things Parn wants to know when we meet him are "Where're your bags?", and, more importantly, "Where's Ilan?". Much exposition later, and we're in a taxi to his Bangkok pad, which was the perfect place to put our feet up (or inside the iSqueez massage machine, which sent Baptiste into fits of giggles on Vibrate mode). After a little Thai TV (featuring my old Japanese favourite, Medical Horror Check Show with 'Beat' Takeshi, and the karaoke channel with some bizarre old man chasing ladies in the forest and a Pan-Pan look-a-like), forty winks seemed the sensible option.

The following morning, we managed to get in touch with Ilan, and it turned out she would be able to come to Thailand (with our bags) thanks to a speedy visa application. Problem was it would be after we were due to head to Koh Samui, so we had to get a few supplies to tide us over until we returned. So, thanks to Parn's mum's personal driver (who would aid us throughout our Bangkok adventures), we headed to a nearby mall to do some shopping like all the cool kids do in Thailand. What struck me immediately was just how open every place seemed to be to different popular cultures, with American, British, French, Japanese, Australian and Korean brands, TV shows, bands, chains everywhere, not to mention Thailand's homegrown produce. First port of call was Hairworld, where Baptiste and I thought it was about time we got the snip. Baptiste ended up with a geeky bouffant and I looked like an English footballer, but over the course of the holiday, our respective 'dos settled a little better (Baptiste eventually having a touch of Louis Theroux about his look). I also picked up a couple of smart shirts there before we took the Sky Train to Siam Square for more shopping. Department stores varied from the big and flashy to the small and cheap, and we stocked up on various essential casual and beach wear, with Baptiste opting for a very zen kung-fu get-up. Much of our purchasing took place in MBK, which had vast floor space dedicated to big-name boutiques as well as smaller stalls. It also had quite a large cinema on the top floor, which proved just how much the Thais love movies - plenty of stands and posters advertising big releases from home and abroad (and many in their original language and/or with English subtitles - nice to see English being used again).

It was dark by the time the driver picked us up for a night-time tour around town. We drove through a night market which we would return to later, and through Chinatown, still showing the signs of New Year celebrations and an amazing amount of restaurants specialising in shark fin soup. Then there was the infamous red-light district, with a surprising amount of Japanese signs around - it wasn't actually as seedy as I had expected (or maybe hoped). And on the way home, we passed the Jade Palace and the King's Palace, but they weren't lit-up as we would have liked (i.e. at all). However, the amount of images of the King posted around was staggering - his face was almost omnipresent, from portraits in shops, to vast banners down the sides of skyscrapers. It represented just how respected he is and how loyal his subjects are.

AMARI SAMUKUNAI

Monday morning, and an early wake-up call as we had another flight to catch - this time, heading south towards a short break on the island of Koh Samui. But first, a change of clothes were in order, as this, being a Monday, was the day people were encouraged to wear yellow polo shirts with the King's emblem on (and if you're in a government job, you pretty much wear it every weekday). Mine was a little small and faded, but did the job nonetheless. We met Parn's mother at the airport and boarded the plane after a quick pad thai. The in-flight magazine proved to be a source of great entertainment thanks to it's cover article about how to take pictures of your girlfriend on holiday, which Baptiste committed to memory in a very short space of time.

Parn's father and the local police met us on arrival (to guide us, not arrest us), and we zipped past luscious scenery to make it to the ferry on time (which they actually delayed for us anyway). The boat itself was an old Japanese vessel based on the signage, and we were rewarded with stunning views and a beautiful sunset as it set sail. We arrived on the island an hour or so later, and were swiftly taken to a nearby beach resort for a lavish seafood supper on the beach. Endless amounts of spicy soup and platters of various crustaceans were brought out to us and we struggled to keep up (my piss-poor shell removal not helping matters much). The local law enforcer then drove us to the Banana Fan Sea Resort on the other side of the island where we would be staying. It's night-time by now, so the beach is empty, but the nearby tourist bars and clubs are packed. Our room is actually where the manager stays on his visits, so we have all the luxuries we could desire.

Once unpacked, we all head into town for ice-cream, then myself, Parn and Baptiste are led around town by one of the local cops. Well, he was more like your Western-style Sheriff, who would patrol the town, chat with his contacts and if anyone had a complaint, would get it sorted sharpish. And he kept his gun in a bumbag. While we have a few other essentials to buy, he advises us it's better and cheaper to go to Tesco tomorrow morning. Instead, we decided to have a look around the clubs, but they were surrounded with terrifying caricatures of womanhood, some of whom were certainly not 100% female. I don't really know what my ideal woman is, but I know now what my ideal woman isn't - these lank-haired, big-lipped, jewel-encrusted, leather-wrapped, long-nailed she-beast harpees, beckoning us to come join their party...shudder. We ended up in a reggae bar on the other side of town for a couple of beers, but there was a daft MC nattering over the music and a lot of middle-aged men getting pissed and dancing the kind of slow-motion bop dads do to reggae music. We left after about an hour - according to our cop the next day, there had been a stabbing that night at that bar, between a boyfriend and his girlfriend (at least they weren't strangers). The rest of the clubs in town were a bit too hectic for our tastes, so we retreated to a more laidback bar for drinks and snacks. And even though we were still technically full from all the fruits de mers we had consumed earlier, that didn't stop an impromptu Burger King before bed around 3am.

Today was our first full holiday day - and we started off in perhaps the most beautifully located Tesco in the world, with the bright hot sun basking down on a lush palm tree forest. With some more cheap beach-wear bought and bagged, we were off to another part of the island for a proposed scuba diving session. However, when we arrived, I was a little anxious about the lack of an instructor or any signs of scuba gear whatsoever. I was a little disappointed but, at the same time, incredibly relieved to discover it would be a snorkelling session instead, so we took a little boat out towards the bay of a small island, home to all kinds of tropical fish. To get them excited, we tossed them instant noodles that sent them into a feeding frenzy. We then got the chance to take a dip with them, but the coral towards the bay meant the water got very shallow indeed. I also decided to see for how long I could stalk an individual fish before it got lost in a shoal. After an hour or so, we headed back to shore for drinks and I realised just how horribly sunburnt I had become, having applied suncream but only after I'd gone swimming, so there had been much skin-sizzling during my snorkelling. I was pretty red across my back and shoulders, and was already beginning to flake up. Baptiste and Parn, on the other hand, had gotten off with only a few minor scrapes and cuts. Still, the sun was starting to set, so we decided to head onto Chaweng (sounds a bit like "Schwing!") beach by our hotel for jet-ski fun.

Jet-skiing was a wonderful experience. We had about half an hour to zip across the waves as much as we liked, and there was a great feeling of freedom as we bounced off crests and weaved through each other's splash-trails (or whatever the gnarly terminology is). It was far more exhilirating an experience than playing Waverace had suggested. However, I took a wave at a bid of a bad angle and fell off backwards, my last word before hitting the water a simple "Woah". Afterwards, we had a variety of varyingly disappointing barfood from 'Bob's Bar', which took ages to arrive as well. We then took advantage of the 'no longer as hot as is it was earlier' weather for paddling, swimming, sand-slinging and sand-sumo, with Parn beating Baptiste triumphantly. We returned to the hotel to wash and change before having some Thai green curry at a nearby restaurant and a visit to My Friendly Thai massage. I opted for the aloe vera treatment to soothe my sunburn, but it was a general body MOT, involving popping my toes, smearing lotion across my sweaty, hairy pores and getting rubbed quite close to my private triangle. We were all super-relaxed until Parn's mobile (which wasn't fixed to his ear in a rare moment of non-natter) killed the mood with an unexpected ringtone.

Our time in Koh Samui had been short but it was the first time my trip had felt like a genuine relaxing break from my time studying at university in Kyoto. We left the next morning after breakfast to return to Bangkok, to be reunited with Ilan. And our bags!

See pictures of Koh Samui here and here.

Coming soon - return to Bangkok and the journey to Phrae!

Spring 2007 > China > Part IV

2007-04-27T09:46:00.000+01:00

BACK TO BEIJING

My slow travelogue crawl through my past adventures reaches it's final destination in China as our train pulled into Beijing West Railway Station a couple of hours earlier than planned. We were welcomed by a voice-over onboard in English, sounding a little like Donald Sutherland, extolling the virtues of the station building with its 'waiting lounges' and 'shop'. To kill time, walking around was the only way to keep us warm on a chilly morning, despite having all our baggage on tow. We tried calling Rob with our phone card from Shanghai, but now it had stopped working all together, so we ended up in a little phone shop that worked out cheaper and easier than a payphone anyway.

Fifteen minutes later, Rob arrived, and we taxi'd it to his rather grand apartment near his university. There we met an assorted bunch of his friends and flat-mates studying in Beijing with him, who were all incredibly nice and friendly - although Lucy apparently had a dark side, having tripped up her mum, who was on a visit, the night before. We had a nice conversation over breakfast, but it was not long before we popped around another friend's flat as it was the birthday of fellow student Barney. And the plan was: GO-KARTS! Unfortunately, getting there was another problem, as the taxi convoy we took were a little clueless about where it was. We had to get out, walk around, call the karting centre number and get a new batch of taxis before we finally headed in the right direction.

It had been a long time since I'd been karting, but it was easy getting back into the swing of things thanks to my recent Mario Kart GP Arcade sessions. My first race was with just myself and a couple of Chinese guys not part of our group, who were so bad they had to quit, leaving me to just scoot round the track on my own time-trial style. The next contest was a full grid, and I did pretty well, crashing just the once, but I was delayed when none of the staff came to help me out, so I had to wriggle my way out myself. Nevertheless, I still leapt three places, so I was happy with my performance. While others continued to kart ahead, Baptiste, Rob, Sabrina and I opted for a game of tag-team pool which must have featured a record-breaking number of jammy pots and flukey shots. This was all followed by a meal at a Japanese restaurant, giving us the opportunity to try out our language skills, but they were completely lost on the evidently Chinese staff. At least we could make some recommendations on what to order (but the potato salad seemed to garner the most praise). However, we couldn't stay long as we had arranged to meet Ilan for dinner.

We made it to Tiannamen Square a little later than planned, but couldn't find her at all. Turned out she was wearing a wig both to try out a new style and to fool us completely. She had been shopping with her friend Wan all day, and the two of them were ready to eat, so we took the subway (which included a very angry argument between two groups of strangers) to a place they recommended. It turned out to be all the way to the station we had just come from with Rob's friends! Never mind - it was a big restaurant with lots of spicy food and strange desserts ('fruit ice' turned out to literally be 'fruit' and 'ice'). We called it a night after making arrangements for heading to the airport, and as we left, we walked past some amazing late-night construction work going on for The Tube, a new building supposed to be ready for the Olympics, but looking increasingly unlikely to be. However, in it's current state, it looked like the crashed spaceship from Alien, and mighty impressive indeed. With the last train already departed, it was yet another taxi back to Rob's apartment, and as the previous partygoers returned one by one, we were soon ready for bed. Well, in this case, it was inside Dracula's sleeping bag on their massive comfortable pink sofa, which was a damn sight better than the hellish train ride from Xi'an.

ALL APOLOGIES

The next day was a chance to visit the last of our Beijing big-hitter tourist attractions - the Summer Palace. Rob joined Baptiste and myself for the day out, and were stunned at just how vast the grounds were. Rob had been before, but hadn't seen any of the buildings we went to at first, having arrived at a different entrance to the one he'd been through previously. We made our way up the hill and along winding steps and rocky paths to reach the main area of the palace, looking across the expanse of Kunming Lake. It wasn't pedalo season, but that probably gave us a better view.

However, pretty much every sign to every beautiful building would helpfully remind us that it was ransacked, destroyed and/or burned down by the Anglo-French Allied Forces during the Second Opium War in 1860. We figured that our party consisting of two Englishmen and a Frenchman would help redress the balance as we were paying to get in this time. Other interesting sights were the Buddhist Incense Tower, the Imperial phone line, the Marble Boat (not as impressive when the water around it had dried up) and a guy doing calligraphy on the ground with a big water brush. We were a little pushed for time, but it was a nice place to spend the afternoon. Once we'd returned to Derby's, we pretty much had to grab our stuff and go to meet Ilan to catch the airport shuttle bus.

Once we were on board the coach, we sat at the back with our massive sacks eating weird sweets (corn on the cob flavour, anyone?) and explaining the concept of "not for toffee/the world/all the tea in China". We arrived at the aiport, checked in our luggage, and headed to the passport check...only for everything to go tits-up. Ilan was refused entry. Apparently, the travel agency in Japan had said that she didn't need a visa if the stay in Thailand was less than fifteen days, but the Chinese officials weren't having any of it. For one and a half hours, Baptiste and I were stuck behind the checking gates hoping it could be sorted, maybe getting a different flight or if it was possible to get a temporary visa - but to no avail. And it got even worse. Because all our luggage had been checked in Ilan's name, when her flight ticket was cancelled, all our luggage (not just her suitcase) was removed from the flight, with no time to have them re-checked. So not only was Ilan now stuck in Beijing, so were our backpacks! Marvellous...With our flight about to leave, we had rush to the gate, leaving Ilan behind, but a promise that we'd get in touch with her and Wan, who she'd stay with until the matter was resolved, once we were in Thailand. We boarded in time, but secretly hoped that there'd be some problem with the flight so we could stick around and help Ilan. Although there was a little delay, we were sadly soon in the air. Bye-bye China...

So my final thoughts on China? Well, I think we experienced the full gamut of emotions during our time there, so overall feelings are decidedly mixed. There were nice people and nasty people, nice places and nasty places; some days were wonderful, others we'd rather forget. I guess a lot of our experiences can be drawn from the fact that China is not readily geared towards foreign tourism. Some people would happily stop for a chat or give us a passing smile and "Hello!", while others would just stop in their tracks and stare at us as if we were hideously deformed. There is little understanding or use of English, but then again, when you have a billion potential Chinese customers, who cares if a couple of poxy Europeans don't come and bother your business? And even when they do, it'd be nice if their sales techniques could be improved, as I'm sure they'd see the benefits.

The current world image of China is that of the new super-power, undergoing the kind of industrial change other parts in the world took centuries to accomplish in a matter of months. And while this is true, it's very clear that China is struggling to catch up with itself at the same time as tackling the problems lying underneath. When the Olympics arrive in Beijing next year, a lot of people coming from across the globe to visit are going to be very surprised to see such poor infrastructure, pollution and anti-social behaviour. I'd still consider returning to China, but I doubt it'll be in search of the hustle-bustle of another city; a countryside trek would be a far more tantalising prospect indeed. But why not check out my entire collection of China snaps on Flickr?

Well, that's it for China. Sorry it's taking so long, but perhaps I'll have more time to finish this journey write-up during Golden Week. And then I can finally write about actual stuff happening to me right now this very minute!

Next time: Thailand! Sun, sea, sand, spicy food and snorkelling!

Spring 2007 > China > Part III

2007-04-15T08:18:00.000+01:00

MAOCHANDISE

Our flight to Xi'an was an early one but went smoothly. Well, one woman appeared to panic uncontrollably a few seats away and/or vomited over herself - I'm not exactly sure, but it involved several cabin crew, a change of seats and a number of tissues. Also, the in-flight snacks included squid slices, which filled the plane with an unbelievable stench. However, we were swift in disembarking and boarding the shuttle bus into town, that drove bumpily through what I felt was the real image of China I had in mind - dusty streets, crumbly towns and endless stretches of space into nowhere.

Our accommodation, the Bell Tower Inernational Youth Hostel, was superbly located, being it next to Xi'an's main post office, overlooking the Bell Tower itself, which was located conveniently at the city's main roundabout, allowing for easy navigation in the direction of all four main compass points. The hostel itself was a wonderful place to stay, with friendly staff, helpful tour arrangements, good social areas, a bar serving great food and drink and comfortable rooms (again, we opted for a twin private room with marginal price difference, which was actually part of a hotel the hostel was seemingly attached to - not 100% certain of the arrangement). Plus, free hour of internet and a free beer every night! The next step was to secure our journey back to Beijing, so we headed to the train ticket booth where recognising that there was a queue in place wasn't on anyone else's agenda but ours. Eventually, we did manage to get a place on board, but unfortunatle we would have to endure a hard seater overnight. Little did we know just how traumatic it would be.

As it was Baptiste's birthday, I bought him lunch at the Hong Kong Restaurant, a vast and virtually empty mega-diner, which also served a peculiar purple drink that tasted exactly like ice-cream wafers. As they were close by, we opted to visit the Bell and Drum Towers central to the local area. As you can imagine, both had a lot of bells and drums respectively, and we were lucky enough to watch a group of musicians rehearse inside. We got to see a more polished display of musical ability at the Drum Tower, with a bunch of young drum-diddlers in bright costume banging away in unison. From both towers, I had a good vantage point of the city's taxis, all a wonderful green colour (the buses were similarly eye-catching, in various hues). It was then just a trip across from the tower to Huifang, the Muslim quarters of Xi'an, with a wonderful tent-roofed market stocked with all kinds of dried fruits, nuts and souvenirs. Even more tantalising was the packed main street with wonderful eateries on either side, with the staff grilling yummy kebabs and cooking spicy bread.

We turned into a covered alleyway that had a such a Middle Eastern atmosphere it made it hard to believe we were still in China. The little shops were selling all kinds of Maochandise, a spin-off of Che-Shirts; basically souvenirs with Chairman Mao's face adorning them, from little alarm clocks with his hand's waving as it ticked to Mao-sacks and Mao-caps. As Xi'an was the start of the original Silk Road, the city is home to a wonderful mix of Chinese and Islamic culture, best represented at the Great Mosque, a fully-operational and beautifully designed prayer complex. The mix of Chinese architecture and Arabic influences was spellbinding, and so SOAS. It was an incredibly peaceful place, home to many birds gently singing masking the sound of traffic from afar. Plus, there was a friendly man at the main gate who knew a surprising amount of English and French expressions.

On our way back to the hostel, the park area between the two towers had filled up with amateur telescopes observing the moon (no doubt because the Chinese New Year based around the lunar calendar), and a very strange one wheel velocipede much like Mr. Garrison's 'IT' from South Park, just without the filthy control mechanism. As it was Baptiste's birthday, the hostel cooked him up a free pizza and we cashed in our free beer tickets. But the beer in question, Tsingtao's very drinkable Hans Beer (with a wolf on the bottle) cost a measly 5 RMB (about 35p) for 500ml, so it didn't break the bank to get drunk in a celebratory fashion. Coincidentally, it turned out to be another hostel guest's birthday that day, a Scotsman by the name of Hamish! So we sat down together, drinking beers, eating pizza and watching Raiders of the Lost Ark. It was exactly the kind of atmosphere you want from a hostel, but rarely get, as we chatted with Adrian and Dominik from Germany, Sylvine from Holland, and a guy who lived in Weston-Super-Mare. We drank into the next day as fireworks went off from the square outside, before calling it a night to allow sufficient sleep in preparation for our tour the next day.

POUR UN PETIT TOUR

As our tour group had swelled from four to eight, we got it cheaper than what we'd originally paid - good news for the student traveller. Our fellow companions were five Swedish guys (who mostly spoke little English and sported a 'couldn't care' attitude and a general lack of interest, making us wonder why they even came in the first place) and Steven from the UK. Our guide was Emily, a young local girl with passable, if far from exceptional, English, who talked almost non-stop throughout the whole day. Mr. Liang was our driver, and we squeezed into his little minibus, the interior of which was decorated with magazine cuttings of local sights, cars and supermodels. As we exited the city gates, it was clear only Baptiste and myself were offering any sign of interest in Emily's historical spiel, but it was not long before we were at out first destination - surprise, surprise, another Friendness Store.

This time silk was on the agenda, what with Xi'an being start of the Silk Road and all. Sure enough, the display cases, specimens and production techniques, all impressive and interesting, soon gave way to talk of washing instructions, choice of styles and special New Year offers. For some reason, I was seen as the prime target (I guess because I tried to be nice and charming while the others scarpered), but as much as I would like to feel nourished like an Emperor with a sleey silk duvet set, pricing, backpack space and common sense dictated that it was not at the top of my 'must-have' list then and there. Back on the bus then to Banpo Village, the remains of a 6000 year old settlement. It was only the very basic outlines of building foundations, but there were impressive pre-JCB ditches and fascinating information on the burial rituals. However, judgng buy the desire to move on, I was clearly the only history student there.

Back on the bus to a factory that manufactured imitation terracotta warriors of all sizes, but imperfect shapes - it seemed like they hadn't gotten arm lengths or hand quite right. Again, no purchases, but I couldn't really understand why we were there in the first place - on the previous tour, we were all staying at hotels, with the others with a family at home; here they were selling to backpackers with tight budgets, luggage restrictions and time schedules. As we departed, Emily asked us if we wanted to eat lunch. I thought that was a rather strange question as we obviously needed to eat some time, but then the grumpy Swedes emitted a resounding "No!", so we were a little hesitant to drag out their day any further. But when it came to crunch time, they said they'd be okay to wait, so we stopped off anyway, at another silk store with an adjacent restaurant and an imitation Egyptian pyramid next door.

Lunch was much the same as the previous tour, except with regional dishes involving spicy noodles and an egg/tomato mix. The driver was a little miffed that it was just going to be me, Baptiste, Steven and one of the Swedes (who actually turned out to be from Norway originally, didn't really know the others and agreed they were being rather arsey - he also was into retro gaming). Part of the deal was that we go on another silk tour, and Emily advised us to pretend that it was all knew to us, so while a different tour guide took us through all the procedures, we feigned surprise throughout. Our host asked us questions, and we played dumb about the answers, but I was a little unsettled the way she kept on referring to us as "my friend". When it came to the inevitable purchase round, she was more desperate for a sale and looked genuinely crestfallen when we wrenched ourselves free.

Finally, it was time for the main event, the Terracotta Army of Qin Shi Haungdi. I had studied the First Qin Emperor in my Introduction to the History of East Asia course at SOAS, writing an essay and answering an examination question about him. You may know him from The First Emperor docu-drama Channel 4 showed a little while ago, or, more likely, from Zhang Yimou's Hero. So I had been looking forward to seeing the warriors for myself. We drove along some incredibly rough roads through rubble-riddent villages to get there, but once we arrived, I was surprised at the size of the surrounding complex. It was a little like a theme-park, with stalls, fountains, a horse-drawn carriage for the punters, and a lot of bad English (one sign for an upcoming redevelopment used the word 'smelody', but I can't recall what it was referring to). After ticket purchase and an X-ray scan, we were allowed entry to Pit #1, a vast aircraft hangar-esque building covering the main site, filled with rows of statues. Unfortunately, it becomes clear that my guide book was perhaps a little out of date. I had deliberately left my camera behind as it stated photography was prohibited at the site, but it turned out photography was okay, which explains why there are no photos of the statues on my Flickr account. Bum. The only camera restrictions were no flash or tripods, but the crowds were flaunting such rules with little care. In fact, working as a security guard there must be a real tough gig - one guy had to deal with someone dropping a bottle of water from above, and then a kid running out through the barrier towards the dig site. Though it made me think how some 2200 years later, we have security guards guarding clay guards made instead of real guards guarding the Emperor's tomb.

With the first pit done, we went to the Circle Vision building for a 360 degree short film about the history of the Terracotta Army, the self-proclaimed Eight Wonder of the World (I thought that was King Kong?). The film was made in the late 80's but the quality of the film had clearly been worn by repeated screenings. However, it was good fun, with lots of staged battles, rituals and construction scenes. Next were the bronze horse and carriage statues, then Pit #2, which was far more interesting than the massive first pit. The lighting was darker (if that makes sense), and many of the figures were broken or had fallen to pieces, creating an eerie battlefield aftermath vibe, with hands sans weapons looking as if they were stretching out to grasp for help, and decapitated hands and dismembered limbs lying around. There was a small platform jutting out over the pit which also gave a great feeling of power and command when you stood on it...absolute POWER! Pit #3 was smaller but very well-preserved, but it's undeniable there are far more treasures to be uncovered in the area - just as long as no tourists are about. As expected, I was the last one to leave each area, but I would have liked to have stayed longer.

Our tour came to an end and we got back to the hostel absolutely knackered. As we zoned out in front of our hotel telly, we caught a very disturbing cartoon on CCTV's Kids channel - it depicted two (possibly orphaned) children during the Pacific War evading capture and outsmarting Japanese troops, featuring two bumbling idiots and an evil fat general with a Hitler 'tash. Considering how touchy Sino-Japanese relations are at the moment, and how the Chinese lay much of the blame on the Japanese, I couldn't believe that such a progamme was on. Not only was the animation terrible, but this was being screened to children at prime-time - what kind of lesson does that teach the kiddywinks? The soldiers even had the modern Japanese flag everywhere, not the Imperial Japanese one. It was as if there were a French cartoon made today depicting Nazi soldiers with German flags instead of swastikas - and even then, it's not like there are the problems involving European relations and dealing with the past as there are here in East Asia. Unbelievable.

After we'd recovered, we went back to the Muslim district for some of the food we'd spied the previous day. Although we went somewhere that advertised an English menu, it didn't synch up with the stuff cooking outside, so Baptiste resorted to pointing at what we wanted. While we weren't brought quite as much as we were expecting, it was cheap and delicious. The skewers were hot, the bread was spicy and the beer was spot-on. We then headed back to the hostel for more beers and chit-chat with the guests from the previous night, including a couple of games of Shithead and a Darts game of Cricket (which I was surprisingly good at, as it didn't require aiming for the triple 20 every time). I then stayed up chatting to Hamish about his proposed visit to Turkmenistan and how now that the president had died in December, it was not going to be as mad a place as it used to be - stories of National Melon Day, the banning of lip-synching, gold statues that rotate in alignment with the Sun...utterly insane.

THE WALLS ARE CLOSING IN

Our final day in Xi'an was spent walking along the top of the city wall. After a jumbo breakfast special care of the hostel (2 slices of toast, butter, jam, 2 sausages, 2 rashers of bacon, tomato, mushrooms, baked beans - all spanning 2 plates) while watching the end of The Matrix Revolutions, we were ready to set off for the South gate. A little narked at the 40 yuan entry fee, we coughed up nonetheless, as it was a beautiful sunshiney day, perfect for a walk. At the start of the trail, there were a number of gaudy New Year displays, including some bizarre models of insects and then dalmatians, so I envisaged a Starship Troopers-esque conflict between the two sets of creatures up the side of the wall. The further we walked, the displays and fun-fair stalls disappeared, and we were left with stretches of wide paths going on for kilometres.

It was a lovely afternoon, and with it being holiday season many people were gathered in the parks at the foot of the wall, doing their own thing, be it kite-flying, letting off firecrackers, playing mahjong or outdoor snooker, or just having a sit-down. It took us about 3 hours to go all the way around to the North gate, going past Xi'an station, which was packed to the rafters, as well as yet another billboard of our favourite bald man, a comedian called something like Bi Lao, who advertises for China Mobile and some yoghurt food, and was a familar face wherever we travelled. His omnipresence even extended to a Madame Tussaud's waxwork in Nanjing Road in Shanghai. And here he was again in Xi'an with his patented cheeky grin and thumbs-up. We got back to the hostel to pick up our bags, say our goodbyes, leave a message on the wall (as was encouraged) and get a load of spaghetti bolognaise before our departure.

Xi'an station was far more hectic than Beijing as it was now well into the holiday season, and people would be returning back to the big cities. We found a couple of seats in the waiting room, but there was clearly a lot of frustrated people around, with one heated argument between a couple of queuers turning many heads. Eventually, it was time to board, and we found our Hard Seater seats occupied by a couple, but there were equivalent seats in the same space which we took instead. While the Hard Seater seat was alright, the problem was the other people. The train had come in from Lasa in Tibet, so everyone had either gotten to or already knew each other. They were all eating rather foul smelling hot noodles, pickled onions and hard boiled eggs, or nibbling on seeds and peanuts, the remnants of which would be spat on the floor (or on me), only to be cleaned by a member of staff applying a wet mop to the carpet. They were also pretty loud, and sang along to songs on their radio until about 2am. I tried to get to sleep by putting on my cap, doing my coat up over my face, but with leg-room nonexistent and reclining not an option, it proved tricky. And once I gotten some shut-eye, I was woken up when the smelly Tibetan woman who had sat next to me at various points complained to a train official that I was in her seat, not that it had bothered her before. Turns out another person had the same seat number on their (clearly forged) ticket as me, and after a wait to see if I'd be ejected off the train, the official came back to settle the dispute. Not sure what he said in Chinese, but I guess it was along the lines of, "This foreigner won't understand and I don't care enough to try and tell him - so forget it". At least then I could get an hour or two of sleep...

Coming Next: Back to Beijing! Derby! Go-Karts! Visa Problems! Huzzah!

Spring 2007 > China > Part II

2007-04-05T13:05:00.000+01:00

LUNAR ANTICS

Shanghai may have been grey, wet, cloudy and foggy upon our arrival, but at least the subway was a lot more modernised than Beijing's lacklustre effort (with cute little cartoons on video screens to amuse passengers). The coming New Year (or Spring Festival as it's known to avoid confusion with our silly calendar) was evident from the endless red lanterns and disturbing Porky Pig look-a-likes displayed in shop windows, with it being the Year of the Pig. We arrived at Caoyang Road to locate our hostel. Having spotted two oblivious backpackers, an elderly man beckoned us towards him, inviting us to follow him. We hesitantly agreed, expecting him to expect something in return, but it wasn't the case - he showed us to the hostel, waved goodbye, and carried on his merry way, making us feel a little bad for being too cautious.

We got to the hostel at 8am only to restart the morning again after a rest, breakfast, showers, and the like. I also got to see the very end of Don't Open The Door!; I can't say a gruesome Z-budget seventies slasher is ideal morning viewing, but I don't know how Chinese TV schedules work. Luckily, we also had CCTV 9, the flagship English language channel in China, in our room, which would prove to turn up some choice nuggets, especially the programmes hosted by the ubiquitous James Chau, who's British lisped tones were a nice break from the Americanised English of other international broadcast networks (and the fan sites dedicated to him suggests we're not the only ones who feel this way). Although it was China's international channel, all news and information was based around what China's role and perspective on the matter was, regardless of relevance. But that's state-run telly for ya!

Once we were ready to go, we had to think about what we wanted to do. Unfortunately, according to a notice in the hostel, if we had turned up just a few days before, we could have been extras in Roger Spottiswoode's new movie The Children of Huang Shi, starring Chow Yun-Fat and Michelle Yeoh, laughing it up in 30's Shanghai (or at least a recreation), but alas, no such luck. Instead, we headed to People's Square, where we bumped into a in-town-for-business Brit abroad who asked if we knew where there'd be a decent restaurant for lunch. Can't say we were very helpful though, having only just bought a map with little time to study it. We offered a vague compass point to head to, while we went the opposite way to marvel at the magnificent skyscrapers.

I loved the Shanghai architecture - massive modern steel skyscrapers sitting side by side with early 20th Century Manhattan-style hotels lining the inner streets at ground level. It was like Bugsy Malone meets Blade Runner (now there's an idea). We walked around the small parks situated in the big building basin, observing frogs, tai chi and men walking backwards, before a walk down Nanjing Road, a pedestrianised shopping street filled with little tourist train cars. There was no quick and easy Chinese food, with Häagen-Dazs, McDonald's, KFC and Pizza Hut on permanent rotation. We opted for a pizza buffet at Origus, which not only sounds like an unpleasant name but the lady in the foyer did a big spit in front of us. Ah, the spitting...I haven't covered that yet, have I? Well, everyone does it, hawking big loogies and gobbing big flobs of excess salivatated slobber whenever and wherever they please. Acceptable for the old fogies maybe, but it's rather more unsightly coming from a young professional lady. As for Origus, well it weren't that tasty, but there was loads of junk food to pile up onto out red plastic plates.

Today was really a walkabout town day. We headed to The Bund (via the old International Opium Commission) to get a foggy view across to Pudong, then down Fuzhou Road (past Captain Hostel - a nautical-themed hostel we wanted to stay at but was full - and an English country house). We stopped off in a Starbucks so Baptiste could charge his still battery-drained camera, but had to leave by 4.30pm as businesses started to close for New Year. We shifted to Raffles City Mall (the shops all had more staff than customers) and then down Central Huihai and Fuxhui Park. By this time, firecrackers and fireworks were being let off willy-nilly in the streets by any mug with a match. Explosions punctured the sky and flashes could be seen in all directions. It was a little like being in a war, but probably less fun. We headed back through People's Park, with the buildings all lit-up magnificently, to see if any celebrations were happening back at the Bund. But we were disappointed. Everything was lit-up, but a grand fireworks showcase from the country that invented the damn things was not forthcoming. No organised spectacle whatsoever, just scatterings of fireflowers hither and thither in the distance. Shame. We took a walk north, found a few more bangs, but little else. Just as in Japan, New Year is more a time for families than parties. It was time to sub it back.

However, we were caught a little by surprise when we found our connecting station to have closed by our arrival. It was only 9.45pm! We initially thought maybe it was some daft holiday quirk, but that's every day! So we had to walk along the side of the metroline, as more bangs and flashes flooded the air with the smell of gunpowder. When we finally arrived at the hostel, we lay on our beds as zoned out as can be, munching on biscuits and crisps while the world seemingly erupting around us with the sound of fireworks. New Year telly consisted of far from exceptional variety shows, but I managed to unearth a wonderful Stephen Chow movie, The Sixty Million Dollar Man, which I watched most of before I fell asleep. It was funny, but beyond bizarre, mixing Inspector Gadget, The Terminator, Pulp Fiction, Dangerous Minds and The Mask (among other things). It was sillier than a cocktail sausage, but I'd like to see the whole thing some time.

SHANGHAI AND DRY

Shanghai was filled with many friendly folk, some with exceptionally good English (one man appeared from nowhere to discuss Beijing 2008 Olympic merchandise, antique markets and tourist attractions - but not for a sale, just as a topic of conversation!), some capable only of a simple but enthusiastically delivered "Hello!" and others with no vocab whatsoever. But equally, the number of beggers, homeless and handicapped, some pulling your arms and clothes, others not even destitute but exploiting their children for a few extra pennies, was depressing. Of course, London's no paradise in that department, but it was far more uncomfortably in-yer-face here more than anywhere. On the way to the metro, one old begger took hold of my arm and I had to twist and wriggle free. That wasn't a great start, but the rest of New Year's day was going to take an even greater turn for the worse.

As we board a busy subway train, Baptiste's camera was stolen, with no hint or clue as to when or who did it. Understandably he's upset, not so much at the loss of the camera per se, but the many photos of Beijing he'd already taken. We look for a phone to confirm that it wasn't back at the hostel, but with no payphones working, it takes an old station official to lend us his mobile. Despite neither party being able to communicate effectively, he kindly advises us to visit the police station a few stops away. As we wait for the train, he gives us tips on keeping our valuables secure and lifts up my shirt to check our pockets - but in doing so, starts smiling and feeling up my belly. Then he moves onto my face, with the kind of besotted twinkle in his eyes. It's all very flattering, but then again I am being felt up by some sixty-year-old Shanghai subway employee. We'd already been subject to a theft, but now sexual harassment? Regardless, we hopped on the tube into Pudong, where we spent a good hour or so traipsing around the high-rise skyscraper district (home to the Jin Mao Tower and the Oriental Pearl Towel - as it was called on one map) looking for a police station, only to give up when we were advised by a department store worker it would take a taxi trip to get there.

With a fruitless morning behind us, we decided to make up for it in the afternoon by heading to Shanghai Pudong International Airport to arrange our flight to Xi'an in a couple of days, as our internet attempts at booking flopped big time. To cheer us up, we decided to take the MagLev (the magnetic levitation train), which was the closest thing to flying at ground level I've ever experienced. It peaked at 431 km/h, travelling 30km in just 7:15 minutes! Whoosh, indeed! However, our airport ticket purchase wasn't nearly as efficient (but that's Siemens for you). The Shanghai Airlines desk gave us a phone number to call to purchase tickets, so we tried the Shanghai Ticketing Office instead - but I had left my passport back at the hostel as we hadn't anticipated to go there that day. They suggested I try their reservation phone line, as I'd only need the passport number to book. So we headed to the payphones, which require a phonecard I do not have. I manage to purchase one for 50 yuan from the pocket of a lady working at the nearby coffee shop, but when I dial, there's no signal. Turns out I needed to dial without the Shanghai code and it worked fine (well, actually, it only worked that day - subsequent attempts to use the card failed whatever we tried). I finally begin the booking procedure, opting for the English speaking centre, but that didn't necessarily equate with an English understanding centre. For some reason, we had to check in at the airport by 8pm that very day - why the hell does someone have to come all the way to the airport two days before the flight to confirm it? It was just as well we were here in the first place. Then began an extremely long-winded name-spelling competition in which any word I suggested to correspond to the letter in question (be it standard call-centre/army chatter or not) was not the one she was thinking of. For example:

ME: S for Sugar
HER: S for Student
ME: Um...yes, S for Student...
(It Continues...)
ME: E for Egg
HER: English E
ME: Yes, English E...Then, another English E
HER: English E
ME: L for Lion
HER: L for Love
ME: Right...

Lucky I didn't have to go down the Curly 'C' and Kicking 'K' route. Once it had all been confirmed, she drops the bombshell - we have to go to the aiport desk to give them a copy of my passport, defeating the whole object of the phonecall.

ME: But we're at the airport now.
HER: Yes, go to the airport.
ME: But we're already here.
HER: Yes. Airport.

With an 8pm deadline to go and get my passport and come back, we follow the only other option and ring the hostel, ask them to go to my room and get my passport and fax a copy over to the ticketing office. And they do so very kindly, calling back the payphone to confirm this. We rush over to the desk and find that it was faxed to their head office, not the ticket desk! But a quick call and my faxed passport copy finally arrives, our flight is booked and we can finally leave.

Once back in The Bund, we potter down Nanjing Road as shops are closed or closing. It had been an emotionally, physically and financially draining day for both of us, so we ended up in a Taco Bell Grande, greeted by Chinese staff in faux-Mexican attire with an "Ola!". The fajitas were so-so and the Corona served with lemon, but we weren't especially hungry anyway. We returned to the hostel to forget our troubles and watch telly, only to be mocked by continual news reports of Chinese New Year celebrations around the world, with resplendent parades, firework displays and lion dances. All we got was a bit of drumming from afar at the Oriental Pearl Tower. And lots of homemade explosions. Narh.

THE BIG FAT KILL

A glorious change to warm sunny weather welcomed us to the hustle-bustle of Old Town. The wonderful architecture and winding streets of years gone by had been retained in this part of the city, but with New Year holidays still under way, it was abso-heaving-maxi-jammed. There were lanterns and gaudy displays dotted everywhere. We joined the masses squeezed into smoke-filled Chenghuang Temple to see prayer-sticks being burned. We then retreated to the peace of the Yuyuan Garden, filled with little paths around ponds and pavilions and Peking Opera stages. We rejoined the chaos along the Nine Bends Bridge, which was a bit like a voyage through the small intestine after eating a pound of pork. Speaking of which, lunch was calling, so we headed back to Nanjing Road and ducked into Ajisen Ramen for fast no-frills Japanese food, Chinese style, and it was super satisfying.

Later, we visited the New World department store to buy ourselves an alarm clock (which would prove useful for our morning flight the next day) before a trip to the top floor for an afternoon in Sega Park. Once we just about figured out the strange points-based card system, a world of arcade games, rides and interactive experiences was ours for the taking! Well, kind of. We had wanted to check out Dr. G's Cursed Room, a medical horror experience or something, but we were advised by a friendly member of staff that it was all in Chinese, so it wouldn't really be scary (though I wanted to give it a go anyway). He took us around for a bit, talking about football because we were French and English (but also clueless about his passion), before deciding on an immersive F-Zero AX machine. There were a number of sporting attractions too, but most didn't really work, and the boxing game called out numbers in Chinese corresponding on where to hit the punch-dummy, so that was a waste of energy. Aside from the standard arcade games, probably the most fun was the Hexathalon, a WarioWare/Wii-esque tournament of six mini-games testing balance, co-ordination, logic and so on. I thrashed Baptiste, naturallement! We finished our day with an ice-cream, but the highlight of our day ended up being on our hotel TV.

Yes, the first part of the CCTV Cup Final, an English-speaking competition, was being held, and it was one of the most gloriously cringe-worthy yet hilarious pieces of television since David Brent was made redundant in his Comic Relief get-up. Hosted by probably the most famous foreigner in China and CCTV regular Mark Roswell (or 'Dashan' as he is known, literally 'Big Mountain'), the show put seven finalists from various universities across the country through various rounds, one by one. These included a prepared speech on love and duty, a question and answer session, then an impromptu speech and debate on a randomly chosen topic. The panel of judges consisted of various Chinese people and foreigners, including UK TV producer Weng Pulan, a man with a glorious moustache we named Monsieur Moutard, and someone who appeared to be Rowley Birkin, Q.C. from The Fast Show. Unfortunately, the contestants were uniformly crap - these were supposed to be the best the whole of China had to offer? Gordon Bennett! They all had standard foreign English accent (i.e. American), but their sentences frequently made little sense with plenty of dodgy grammar (one talked about students attaining 'konwledges') and self-contradictory statements, especially dealing with controversial subjects, in which their opinions would often go against policies of the CCP as well as what they said minutes earlier. One of them even forgot his speech, yet got an average score in the mid 80s (though the highest and lowest scores, usually given by Mr. Mustard, would be disregarded prior to calculation). The only person in the studio who cut through the waffle was one of the debating panel, Martin O'Sullivan, who I think worked at the British Embassy. He may have looked like Mr. Bean, but his sharp questions and sarcastic demeanour would tear apart the contestants' arguments in seconds. As a result, they'd rarely answer the questions, and just fill the air with nonsensical emptyspeak that typified much pseudo-intellectual foreign (English) language conversation I watched. Of course, I'm in no position to mock their attempts at speaking English as my Japanese ability testifies, but I don't go on best of the best internationally broadcast tournaments and make an arse out of myself. While CCTV's acronym could be suggested as standing for Closed Circuit Television, thanks to it's state-run omnipresence, in this case, it was closer to Car Crash Television. It was just a shame we couldn't watch the following two heats...

Coming Up - Xi'an: Islam meets China in a crazy culture clash!

Spring 2007 > China > Part I

2007-03-31T12:12:00.000+01:00

BEIJING BOUND

I don't know how many people apply for re-entry permits on the day of travel with luggage in tow, but it was a good thing that mine was done and dusted within fifteen minutes as I hadn't been able to get one the day before as National Foundation Day was being observed. Nevertheless, Baptiste, myself and Ilan (who's idea of backpacking appeared to be dragging an almost monolithic suitcase around) caught the train to Kansai International Aiport without a hitch. I guess it wasn't peak travel season, as the airport was near-empty, as was our flight, which left ten minutes early anyway.

China Air was to be our airline for the trip, but I can't say I'd recommend them at all. The food was okay, the service unexceptional, the Chinglish news headlines amusing - but their take-off and landing and frequent turbulence didn't fill me with much confidence. Having bagged the window seat, I got to see China from above, but all I could see were vast expanses of brown dirt, puncuated with identikit blocks of skyscrapers, often regimented in colour coding like giant Lego. The airport staff provided us with endless forms to fill in for our enjoyment, but we were approved entry with no hint of resistance (although later experiences ran far less smoothly). Once processed, it was time to 'queue' for a taxi and throw ourselves head first into Chinese society - how we could have ever done it without Ilan, I have no idea, as a typical Chinese conversation sounds more like a vicious argument or bile-spewing rant than a polite exchange of words.

We were heading to Beijing Train Station but the ride there took an unbelievable length of time, with very long expressways that took us past crumbling shacks at the foot of neon-lit skyscrapers (and Tesco in the distance). Queueing is not a recognised activity among most Chinese, and the same rules do not apply for the highway code. Indicating is optional, road markings and lanes are merely suggested guidelines, the horn should be used as frequently as possible and if the jam is too bad, use of the pavement is advised. We were told the traffic situation has gotten especially bad over the past decade, with many abandoning bicycles for cars, and forgoing the admittedly useless public transportation network (in which you have to take a bus to get to a subway station, with an archaic ticketing system anyway) for taxis. This despite the fact that all the roads are massively wide, yet every hour feels like rush hour. With the swell in road-use, the pollution has gotten worse, with smog masking hilltop views and dirt lingering in the air. This was to greet us upon our arrival at the train station, as a cold wind blasted grit into our eyes and down the back of our throats. Hundreds of people had massed at the ticket booths to buy up seats for their impending migration home for the holiday season, and we were extremely lucky to get soft sleeper tickets for our Beijing to Shanghai leg.

Tired and cold, we taxi'd to Soiran's brother's university. Soirin greeted us with a warm welcome and some recently learned English (surprising even his sister) and took us to an on-campus, but yet still huge and ornate, restaurant to eat and meet his friends, all with varying levels of English ability. Soirin seemed very interested to know what our opinions were on Karl Marx and Taiwan, but we weren't really in the right frame of mind to begin a debate on such hot topics. Instead, we were introduced to another Chinese custom in which, rather than everyone saying "Cheers!" at one time, you must perform the act one on one multiple times offering a different reason for raising your glass each time. Every conversation seemed to begin or end with yet another "Cheers!". After food came the search for accommodation, and with no nearby hostels accepting foreign gents such as Baptiste and I (can't blame them), we ended up in a cheap nice hotel. We then ended the evening with a bout of karaoke, and while English songs were few and the microphones kept breaking, our sore throats at the end were proof of something.

The next morning was hurried as our Chinese friends had found us a new place to stay. Their ex-headmaster apparently knew the manager of the Redwall Hotel near the Forbidden City, and, for some reason I'll never figure out (maybe he thought we were international cultural ambassadors or I was an Olympic official, scoping out Beijing in lieu of London's plans in 5 years time), we were allowed to stay for three days. Free of charge. And this wasn't some run-down dirty hostel - this was a rather swish upscale hotel! However, this was all on one condition: that we have lunch with them in the hotel restaurant. Well, it's not like we could or would refuse, so we were all ushered into the private backroom for a lavish feast. Not only were the headmaster and the hotel manager's family and friends in attendance, but at the head of the table was a member of the Chinese army! Now, it's very hard being thrust into these opulent dinners with such esteemed company, especially when you don't understand the language, so you are mostly silent, but also because you're being presented with unusual food you are not used to and actually don't like especially - how the hell do you deal with it without seeming rude and ungrateful? After numerous cheers and toasts (they pressured us into choosing beer, only for them to all drink apple juice instead), dish after dish appeared on the table. I stomached the giant jelly mushroom starter as best I could, but I was almost finished off by a rogue chili that left me breathless and tear-jerked for a good five minutes - I don't think anyone important noticed, thankfully. But I genuinely can't say I like spicy foods now as a whole since my visit to China and Thailand - they really do cross the boundaries of taste there! Luckily, there was a good deal of vegetables and genuine authentic Peking Duck to satisfy everyone.

Lunch finished abruptly, and the rest of the day was spent in one of Beijing's many shopping emporiums, filled with stalls offering various goods of varying legitimacy. I settled on a new (if crap) watch for my travels, which started out at 68 yuan (about £4.50). I've never enjoyed haggling - I feel like the shopping experience should be a joyous one shared between supplier and consumer, not a depressing argument where you try and out-stingy each other - but in China it is de rigeur. After I gave a few dummy near-walkoffs, I got it down to 35 yuan, almost half price. I told Ilan, but she was not impressed, saying I should have got it down to 20-25 yuan. I thought I did good for a novice, but there's just no pleasing some people. We finished up in a Beijing 2008 souvenir shop (one of many around the country) and a Starbucks (one of many around the country), before a quick evening visit to Tiannamen Square.

What a place to spend Valentine's Day, indeed! It was rather chilly, but the dark blue sky, black birds and white lights made for some lovely snapshots. The Gate of Heavenly Peace, with Mao's image still lovingly adorned upon it, had a large police and guard presence, as it also did pushy souvenir vendors flogging their wares. In what would come to typify our journey in Beijing and Shanghai, at every turn someone would pounce upin us to desperately sell their tacky goods. Ilan advised us to brush them off with a simple smile, dismissive wave and a 'xie xie' ("thanks", but in this context "no thanks"). This worked most of the time, though they'd usually answer back in Chinese as we walked off - obviously some sort of insult flung at us, but we didn't understand, so who cares? It seems that the Chinese people we met were either really rude and aggressive or incredibly nice and friendly. Sometimes it was hard to judge which was which, but more on the nice ones later...

The So siblings had to catch a flight back home, so we bid our farewells, and continued to have a peek around Tiannamen Square at night. After about an hour, we walked back to the hotel, which must have taken close to another hour, as it became very clear that Beijing is a very, very big city. We found a fast-food restaurant nearby offering bowls of yummy beef rice and some very familiar tasting warm soya milk, and then went to a dodgy DVD/CD shop, filled with boxsets with bad blurbs and print jobs. It was not long before we returned to our lovely new hotel for a good sleep before our early wake-up for our busy tour the next day.

AND ALWAYS LET YOUR CONSCIENCE BE YOUR GUIDE

We woke at 6am to catch our 7:20am tourist bus as we were to take in the ancient sights outside Beijing. We were joined by a rather moody and pushy Indian couple, and Johannes, a friendly German in his late 40s with four kids, but still on a fun vacation (with Australia next). Our tour guide for the day was Wendy, a saucy Chinese lady in her mid-40s, with a good command of English and a wicked sense of humour. Her topics of conversations included: the Emperor's laziness as a result of his 1000 concubines (and comparing him to Bill Clinton); eunuchs; 'Audi' Schroeder (four wives = four rings); monkey brains, and how eating them makes you smart; Chinese vodka, and dragon-tiger soup (made from snake and cat). As we left Beijing city, we drove past the new Olympic buildings, including the main Bird Nest stadium, the bubble-walled swimming pool and the swish velodrome. However, our main ports of call were to be the Great Wall and the Ming Tombs, but beforehand, we were introduced to another interesting feature of Chinese tourism - the Happiness Store.

Dressed up like a factory museum, you are led on a little tour, explaining the history of a particular Chinese commodity (in this case, jade), then you get a look at the manufacturing process, before being ushered into the gift shop. Now, most museums have a gift shop, but in this case the gift shop IS the museum - everything's for sale and everyone is trying to sell you everything. Maybe it was because this was our first such retailer, but we found the jade factory the least pushy of them all, and we were quite happy to indulge them with some little purchases, given that we had little time to look for souvenirs elsewhere. Obviously there are all sorts of behind-the-scenes dealings between shops, tour operators, hotels and the government, but they really have to practice their sales techniques better. The customer is more likely to be turned off a purchase if they feel like they are being bullied, tricked and cheated - maybe others would submit and pay to get them to go away, but you shouldn't have to. Sort it out guys!

We arrived at the Badaling section of the Great Wall around 9-ish. The sun was out, the weather was fine, and the stretch of the wall across the length of the valley was virtually empty. And for no reason at all, there was a camel sitting in the car park. Us brave young souls picked the hard section to climb up, and rock hard it was too. The first section practically killed us, as if we were climbing the tip of an upside-down iceberg. An iceberg made of STEPS. Some were one brick high, while others were three or more, making for very uneven, calf-and-thigh destroying strikeforce impact. The numerous watchtowers offered some respite as a place to catch our breath, but we made it to the top of the peak, making us great men in the eyes of Mao. Getting back down was just as tricky though, and falling head over heels was an all-too-real possibility. But we made it to the bottom without injury.

Lunch was at another of those tourist stores, but with a restaurant attached, offering cheap but quite nice local dishes to a endless stream of tourist groups doing the same circuit. It's not what either of us would have wanted to do ideally, but money and time restrictions applied. Next were the Ming Tombs, home to various Ming emperors. Not sure which one we visited, but it was filled with traditional Chinese architecture that was at first interesting and pretty, but most places used the same designs and colour schemes, so looking back, it was rather ho-hum. Still, it was worth going just to hang out and joke around with Wendy. She enthusiastically pointed out the three 'woman trees' that grew out of the stonework, which would offer us concubines if we gave them a stroke. Knowing my luck, I had a sneaking suspicion I'd end up with concublokes instead. And while the colour schemes were repeated ad infinitum, the predominace of red (for happiness) got us thinking about the succesful US brands like Coca-Cola and KFC that had made in-roads to China. Heck, McDonald's Golden Arches represent the offical yellow colour of the imperial household. Our final stop was a little teahouse back in town, where we got to sample various Chinese tea and buy them (yes, that old tactic again). But it was a genuinely pleasant finish to the tour, and the various flavours were rather lovely.

Our tour had reached an end, but there was still a whole evening of entertainment ahead. We were going to head to the Drum and Bell Towers, but we got hopelessly lost on the way (it would turn out we made just one wrong turn) and ended up in Bei Hai Park as the sun was setting, which was a nice enough replacement anyway. The lake was still super frosty despite it not being too cold now, but just dry (the reverse of Hokkaido). There we met a father and his son (armed with a toy wooden sword) who spoke with us for a long time in English about all sorts of things as we walked around the edge of the lake - international trade, US slang, the tourist business. And while the odd word would defeat us (it took us a long time to register the word 'niche'), they were good company as we said our goodbyes and pressed on north. We headed to the bar and restaurant area around the hutongs along Qin Hai and Hou Hai, which had a wonderful cosompolitan atmosphere missing from the centre of town. Fireworks were being let off here and there (some right next to us from the fronts of businesses), adding to the vibrant feel, even if it was only Thursday night. We settled on dinner at the Alpha Omega Club, which featured live traditional music, followed by a funk-soul band (playing all the regional standards, as well as "Fever"). It had been a long hard day, so we rewarded ourselves with a load of junky food, with chicken nuggets, french fries, steak and black pepper sauce and a Hawaiian pizza (with banana). It weren't cheap, but we wanted to splash out - we were on holiday anyway, so why not? Once we were back at the hotel, we copped Zs pretty quickly - even if we were both coughing like crazy from the pollution and previous ailments.

BIG EMPTY

Some lucky kanji guesses at the bus stop got us transportation down to the Temple of Heaven, where the Emperor would have once performed various rituals for the benefit of the whole nation. We entered at the East Gate and were greeted with a gathering of old folk down the Long Corridor, having a nice sing-song. It seems parks are where people come to just do whatever they like, from tai chi to impromptu music performances, with audiences welcome but not necessary. We decided to take a very long walk down towards the South gate to enjoy the temple the right way round, but were met with very large walls blocking the route and the odd cypress wood. Nevertheless, we passed through the various stages of the temple site, from the Circular Altar to the Imperial Vault of Heaven (complete with Echo Wall which supposedly allows you to communicate with another on the opposite side of the courtyard, but we were either doing it wrong or it didn't work or there were too many people or all three). And then the long walk to the Hall for the Prayer of Good Harvests. It was at this point that Baptiste received the dreaded 'change battery screen' of death. We bought some choccie biccies to cheer us up and then spent a long time trying to find a way out of the park and then trying to find a place to eat, but the latter proved fruitless. If we were going to make our train to Shanghai and fit in the Forbidden City, we'd have to rely on biscuits for now.

Luckily, the Forbidden City was situated next to our hotel, so getting back to our bags wouldn't be a problem. Still, we didn't have time for an English-speaking guide, be they flesh and blood or the sultry voice of Roger Moore on the headsets offered. Our favourite spot in the Forbidden City was actually right at the start; a small garden filled with pavilions and gnarled trees. We walked through the length of the city's walls from north to south, with vast expanses and temples, huge squares, amphitheatre-esque tiers and a river running through. The main halls were closed to the public, undergoing restoration in time for the Olympics, but they had handily put up a replacement image across the scaffolding. Against our better judgment, we were yet again ensnared in the whole buy-me trap, as we offered a few minutes to look at an art exhibition which turned into 'students' from a Mongolian art school trying to sell their work (i.e. mass-produced prints) - we left quickly, rudely and unimpressed, with it all wearing a bit thin.

Once we exited the Forbidden City, we took a quick walk up Coal Hill to see into the whole complex, but the fog and smog and sunlight hindered visibility somewhat. However, we did get to eavesdrop on a Japanese tour guide - it's great, because they won't think you understand so you can leech off free guide info. Unfortunately, it has to be said that both of these grand sights were pretty underwhelming. Oh, they were big and nicely constructed and world famous and all, but it all felt somewhat soulless and uninspiring. I guess when something is so big, the personal touch is lost, but even then, I was expecting to be wowed by the Forbidden City at least, but left with a feeling that can only be summed up with 'meh'.

We returned to the hotel to pack up and check out (no bill!), then hopped in a cab to the train station with great difficulty thanks to big bags and little room. A quick meal at Yoshinoya (a Sinnified fast-food version of it anyway) before we joined the masses at the station waiting room. I asked one of the station officials for information, but he seemed more interested talking to me about sport. As soon as anyone finds out I'm English, all they want to talk about is football, which leaves me just smiling and nodding and not contributing, and probably makes them feel like they're getting the language wrong when they aren't. For instance, this guy was telling me how the Chinese team and an English team had just 'fought' each other. I just thought he meant it in the sense of competing. It was only a few days later when I found about the actual QPR Vs. China's Olympic Team brawl (BBC coverage / Fox Soccer Report) with kung-fu kicks a-plenty he had been referring to. He also said Bruce Lee was his hero, so I thought the use of wording was appropriate.

We huddled en masse onto the train and found our room occupied, but it turned out to be a mix-up on their part and not ours - though quite a bit of rubbish had been left behind. Nevertheless, we had the whole room to ourselves, and we relaxed in our beds, staring out of the window into the night, watching cities pass by and fireworks pop in the air. It was my first time travelling on an overnight train, so I had all the giddy excitedness usually attributed to those a quarter my age. But I did eventually get some sleep, as we were to arrive in Shanghai the following morning...

Coming in Part II: Shanghai - skyscrapers, vagabonds and hover trains!

Spring 2007 > Hokkaido > Part II

2007-03-21T07:16:00.000Z

BOARD STUPID
Wednesday 7th February - time to hit the slopes! Repeatedly, with a hearty thud (or thunk). The trains took Dan, Thom, Jona, Josh and myself out to Teine and then a bus trip up to the Olympia ski area. It was a virtual white-out through the windows, and when we disembarked, we plunged straight into thick, deep, beautiful snow. It was the perfect soft powdery kind that was ideal for falling into, like a marshmallow pillow canvas, or something. We were here for the night-time ski session and it was getting dark as we ventured off to rent our gear. Jona and Thom opted to ski, as they had had previous experience when younger, while Josh and I decided on snowboarding, because we're cool. Also, we figured that, while we may fall over more often than if we were skiing, it would hurt less when we inevitably did so. Dan joined us snowboarding, kindly acting as our mentor; though he'd only been a few times before, his advice and encouragement saw us through. After getting suited and booted, strapped and frapped (that word choice is actually cleverer than anticipated), we made our unstable advance to the ski-lift.

Being hoisted up on the ski-lift was a very relaxing experience, looking down at the genuinely glistening snow while more of the stuff gently lands on you from above. But once I get to the top, it's time to make the quicker journey back down. At first, I fell over a lot. Sometimes on my back, sometimes on my face, sometimes after multiple rotations. With my thickening facial hair, the snow would cling to the whole of my visage, and my hair started to freeze (it was the closest thing to a shower I'd had for days, and when the hat came back on, it froze onto the fabric). The trick was not to head straight, as you bomb down at a dangerous pace, but to weave side-to-side across the slope. I didn't manage to attain the perfect line a la 1080° (which, let's be honest, was the driving force behind me picking snowboarding over skiing - as was Ski or Die), sticking to a far safer to-and-fro stance-switch falling-leaf motion, but I got pretty good at it, and towards the end I was falling over only a couple of times a run. Over the course of the four hour session, I probably clocked up about 15 runs, some through very thick snow, with only one brief moment when the weather cleared to allow a beautiful view towards Sapporo. Frozen and exhausted, I called it quits a bit earlier than the others, so I could take a few snaps and eat a spicy frankfurter. But soon after, we were all back in Teine looking for something more nourishing, and, after a Mexican restaurant apologised for not having any tacos, we dined at the next door yakinikku. All kinds of animal parts devoured, from pig ear to chicken heart to beef something - but all good.

SNOWFEST '07

The following day was time to take in the wonders of the Sapporo Snow Festival, with a whole bunch of classmates as well. We decided to go in the evening for the more dramatic lighting, and while we didn't get round to visiting Satoland (a mini snowpark a bus ride away), the fabulous sculptures on offer across the whole length of Odori Park was breath-taking (well, not literally, that would be a severe health risk for any public gathering). The sculptures themselves ranged from giant corporate-sponsored constructions to local citizens' efforts to replicate well-known cartoon characters and the like. It was also absolutely freezing. Highlights included...

Danpa - the inverse Panda and Hokkaido mascot, though no-one really knows why. He was at the foot of TV Tower entertaining (annoying) the crowd (people queueing for the Tower).
The Hall of Supreme Harmony Ice Stage - I was due to see the real thing in Beijing at the Forbidden City, but was more impressive (also the real thing was closed when I went there). Included live music and some ridiculous girl and boy bands.
Genki-kun the Cow appearing on the Milk Land Hokkaido stage to a ditty with the lyrics "Ushi! Ushi! Ushi!" ("Cow! Cow! Cow!").
L'Art De Fumer - an old-fashioned bus converted into a portable smoke den.
The wonderful replica of Hikone Castle (pictured - behind Chris and Jona, that is).
Ainosato Kyoikudai's own effort - a deformed Winnie-the-Pooh clasping a globe (with a not-to-scale giant Japan) towards his groin. It seemed unsightly bulges from the crotch region was something of a running theme.
Posters and stalls demanding the return of the Northern Territories to Japan - made all the more amusing by the huge influx of Russian tourists in town for the festival.

I could mention more, but it's probably just worth taking a look at my pictures yourself. I'm not going to do all the bloody work. Or take a virtual 3D CG trip of the festival area at the official site.

THE LAMB BARON VS. COUNT DRACULA

The next day saw a return to Saporro city centre for a brief spell of shopping - predominantly on the search for souvenirs. Much of the shop we visited seemed to be taken up with limited edition regional variations of Kit Kat - one of the only predominant British foods in Japan and also insanely popular (there's currently a cherry blossom seasonal Kit Kat doing the rounds). While the sealion, sea-urchin and bear curries were tempting (me to be sick and cry), I stuck with a neat Ezo Brown Bear tin case, covered in all kinds of bizarre slogans like "Mother nature is always dangerous and merciless for human being. But it's just a harmony for the nature itself. Enjoy four seasons as the season is" and "Firestorm is misterious (sic). It shines in the dark and on your mind and captures everything." The official site for all the merchandise can be found here.
Once the rest of the SOAS Hokkaidoites had gathered, along with Cassie who'd popped up from Tokyo, we headed off to Sapporo Beer Garden, home to Sapporo Beer, in Sapporo. Sapporo. It's a fun town name to say, isn't it? Better than LON-DON, anyway. There we had two hours of all we could eat sizzle-your-own-lamb and vegetables and all we could drink beer. It was the first time that a Baikingu Sutairu (Viking Style - Japanese name for all-you-can-eat) meal felt like a Scandanavian banquet of old, with grand tables, a wonderful setting (inside an old factory building), and endless booze and baby sheep flesh. We even got bibs - which were more like paper aprons (or paprons) than anything. As I liked my lamb quite well-done, the others kept taking the meat I was preparing, so, in response to my whinging, I had a whole sizzle section to myself, earning me the title of Lamb Baron - nice.
Reeking of meat and beer, it was back into town for a brief spell of karaoke. But this was going to be karaoke like no other (is that now a trademark of Sony or can I still use it?). This was Surira (Thriller) Karaoke. Taking its cues from the Michael Jackson classic, the exterior and entrance hall was decked in full spooky decor; a giant Dracula face outside, classic horror film posters indoors, a coffin, skeletons, crosses, decapitated monster heads, cobwebs - it was as if some guy owned a karaoke box and his friend had all these unwanted Halloween decorations to shift, and the idea was born. Even the staff were dressed in blood red shirts and black ties (but maybe they all just really dug Kraftwerk's The Man-Machine). And what's even better is that this isn't a one-off, but a chain (though sadly limited to Hokkaido). As we walked down the dungeon corridors, the room was something of a disappointment, with nothing horrific about it (well, except the drab brown wallpaper). Nevertheless, it was still a short but sweet karaoke burst before the last train home.

END OF ONE JOURNEY, PRELUDE TO ANOTHER
We reached Otaru in the evening before our ferry trip home, and were pleased to find another snow festival had just gotten underway. Named the 'Snow Gleaming Festival', the streets of the city that went along the old train track and the surrounds were covered in snow and dotted with candles and fire-cups, stacked up in various formations with snow balls, pots, cylinders and all sorts of shapes. There were snow tunnels, igloos and pyramids too. It was a nice surprise, although with all our luggage in tow we weren't exactly in the right gear for it. Still, we headed down to Otaru canal for a look at the light displays there, passing a wonderful old bank building, some large fish emporiums, a pony-drawn carriage and another Thriller Karaoke (this one with a giant bat on the roof). It seemed like a nice town to spend a day in, but we had a ferry to catch, and after some dinner and Mister Donuts (natch), we were off to the port.

Thankfully the journey was far calmer than our first trip. The vessel was of a slightly different layout, but had similar amenities (plus Hyper Bishi Bashi Champ in the arcade). For some reason, the various areas and rooms were all space-themed, with Cafe Galaxy, Astronaut Smoking Room (probably not safe in an all-oxygen environment), Jupiter Restaurant and Milky Way Forward Saloon. This time round, the cinema was operational, so we bought snacks and drinks and watched Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire in Japanese with English subtitles. Then it was time for Josh and I to take the plunge for our first sento experience - getting nekkid in a room full of strangers, having a wash, a dip and a sauna trip. I'm not going to lie - it was awkward at first. Of course, your average Japanese person has been brought up to just shed their kit in public whenever necessary, but my career of public exposure consists almost entirely of swift swimming pool changing rooms keks-droppage. However, if you don't dwell on it, any nerves soon dissipitate and you just get on with it as if it's perfectly natural (which it is, I guess). And at least we got a nice view out towards the ocean.

We arrived on time this time, but we had expected a bus service in the direction of Maizuru; instead there was only one headed to Shin-Osaka. So a taxi to the station followed by the last train to Kyoto (changing twice) had to do instead. Josh got off at Nijo, but by the time I got to Kyoto, the underground had closed, so one more taxi journey back to Mukaijima. I had to keep the driver waiting as I was 200 yen short, so Baptiste had to come out round the corner (they're never able to actually park outside the halls, they always miss the entrance or go round in circles and drop me elsewhere) and lend me the remaining fee. But I was back. I was home. And I was off to China in a day.

Remember to check up on all my glorious Hokkaido piccurs nyah.

Coming soon: Beijing! Shanghai! Xi'an!

Spring 2007 > Hokkaido > Part I

2007-03-15T09:09:00.000Z

BEST LAID PLANS

No sooner had I finished watching The Departed did I find out my ferry had also departed - without me on it. I returned a call to Shin Nihonkai Ferry company. Apparently I had missed my boat to Otaru, having left Maizuru earlier that morning. Clearly the travel agent's idea of Saturday night translated literally as 'during the night-time on Saturday, so early Saturday morning also counts'. After a bit of a messy 20 minute phonecall, our tickets were to be transferred to the ferry from Tsuruga to Tomakomai, leaving around the time we had intended to leave anyway, just to and from slightly different locations. I rush to a nearby JTB office to confirm the details, alert Josh to the situation but advise it has already been sorted and we meet at Kyoto Station as planned. However, our voyage was to hit another little snag - and we hadn't even left the city yet.

I was walking towards Mukaijima station, kitted out with all my luggage, when the ferry office phones again to tell me that our ferry was delayed due to rough weather. I spent a long time on the phone with a very patient lady, trying to figure out if it was actually going to go at all, what other passengers were doing, whether I should book another ferry...But all uncertain replies. After talking with Josh, we decided to head there anyway and wait either at the port or on board for the ferry to leave. It was unlikely we'd arrive on Sunday evening now...

The first snow appeared on our train to Tsuruga - a mere taste of what was to come. Although it was snow festival season, we were a little suprised how few people were on the train, the bus to the port and finally waiting for the ferry. I guess if you've got the funds to pay the ludicrous mark-up Sapporo hotels impinge during the festival, you'd probably be Shinkansenning or flying. Still no idea of when departure time was going to be, but we were welcomed aboard at 11.30pm and Josh and I were a little startled by how grand the main entrance was. Big shiny staircases and all - faux-grander but fancy nonetheless. We were sleeping in a big shared space with a simple mat, blanket and pillow for comfort, but it was better than I'd expected it to be. Settled in, we took a quick tour (air hockey!), then sat in the main lounge, drinking beer and eating snacks and waiting for the damn thing to 'hoist anchor and set sail'. But still no movement by 2am, at which point we decided to call it a night. Nevertheless, we stayed up for an hour or so more, as a group of Japanese workers had appeared in our dorm and began chatting with us in English and Japanese. They offered us rice cakes, dried squid, shucho, salami and cheese with little salami chunks in. And then they went and got us another beer each. Not wishing to upset our uninvited hosts, we ate and drank as much as we could stomach - but our stomachs were soon to take an assault of another kind.

I slept comfortably enough, waking intermittently (especially when we finally departed at 5.30am), but finding the experience of sleeping on a giant flat firm water bed very interesting. It was around 11.30am when I awoke properly, but it was not until I was standing that the feeling of nausea sunk in terribly. The heat of the room, the constant swaying, all that food and booze - I clasped my mouth, put on my shoes, and staggered uncontrollably to the lavvies to let rip. I managed to fight the urge to vom everywhere, but I have never felt so ill for so long. I buy some seasickness tablets and water but I didn't imagine they'd have any effect.
Out on deck felt better. The sun and fresh air belied the choppy waters rocking the passengers from side to side, but inside was still more comfortable. Walking around was a virtual impossibility, like living in a fun house with no means of escape. And while others seemed to be coping better (the staff were irritatingly well-composed), hearing someone vomit in the cubicle opposite while you're already on the verge of doing so mid-relief isn't going to help matters. The on-board cinema had opened up but our feature presentations were cancelled due to the weather conditions. I slouch in my seat and drift off for a while until Josh appears with his laptop and we watch The Lost City to take our minds off our sickness. No matter how our bodies felt, energy was necessary, so we dine a la vending machine while watching TV shows on cultural celebrations and ridiculous song extravaganzas (The X-Factor would never work here). Tired of consciousness in this condition, I crash around 8pm.

We finally arrive at 3am - and with no hope of actually being able to get anywhere at this time, we have to sit it out in the waiting room for another ferry to arrive. Sleep passes much of the time, though an advert for a program on tonight, pitching animals in CG combat to see which would claim victory, does raise a smile (tonight was BEAR vs CROCODILE). Once the second batch of passengers are on terra firma, it's a bus to Tomakomai station, then a train to Iwamizawa and then change to get a train to Sapporo. It's a very long journey, but at least there's plenty of sunrise snowscapes to please the eyes (I would embed the video but Blogger is being arsey).

We arrive at Sapporo station and just miss the train to Ainosato Kyoikudai (where the SOAS crew are studying and living in Hokkaido). It's an hour before another goes that way, but once we reach our final destination, we take a rest in Mister Donut and wait for Jona. It became clear over the course of our stay that food plays an important part in the Hokkaido lifestyle. I guess the eating goes some way to eliminating the cold, and Mister Donut was a popular stop-off point, particularly with the new range of donuts, the discounts on offer and the oh-so-essential Points Card - the light-up donut and beverage cup had already been claimed by Jona and Dan, but their quest for points continued regardless. It was not long before Jona had escorted us back to his halls - 紫藻寮 Shisoryo (Purple Seaweed).

It's on campus and despite being only a couple of decades old, it was pretty run-down. However, the grime and untidiness just added to its charm and character. Stairways filled with binbags, trash all over the shop, stacks of books, piles of clothes - higgledy-piggledy to the max! I was going to be staying in Jona's cluster (you couldn't really call it anything else - just the word 'cluster' has connotations that Shisoryo was more of an organic community than a building), while Josh was staying with Chris, who we met cooking in his kitchen (ah...the kitchens). I handed over some Kyoto omiyage (some traditional sweets and a Shinobi Hello Kitty) and Chris offered something wondrous in return: Yazz - Wanted. "The Only Way Is Up" indeed! Plus 8 other fine dancealicious tracks. Spellbinding stuff indeed, and quite the last thing I expect to receive as a gift in Japan, but that's Chris for ya! We don't stick around long as their Japanese friend Taiki (obsessed with American culture and very cool and funny indeed) has organised a screening of Jackass: Number Two, which we happily watch in one of the university buildings. Thom turns up as well, and I also finally meet the legend that is Kevin - but I'll leave the Hokkaido guys to the Kevin love-in. We meet Dan (who has developed an Animal Crossing addiction the likes of which I haven't seen before) at the international students office and it's not long before we're back at halls playing videogames and watching telly shows.

Then it's off for a big tonkatsu dinner, where Dan dares to deal with the jumbo tonkatsu. Regulars as they all are, they know what they're getting themselves in for, so Josh and I opt for more sensibly-sized portions. It's certainly tasty, but it seems the real reason they've been coming is because of the prizes on offer if you get enough points. Jona and Chris cash in their hard-earned katsu credits for a spangly Toyota remote-controlled car. As deserving as I guess they are, I can't help but think there might be a little kid out there who's been waiting to get that car for ages, only to find it's been claimed by two silly gaijin twice his size.
It's then off to pool and darts - which ends with me pretty much breaking all the darts heads (though I neglect to inform the staff). Josh and I stick around, while the others return to the halls for their regular meeting. From what I hear about these dreaded meetings, they start at 10pm and can last up to three hours, consisting of the Japanese residents airing their greivances, approving rules and regulations, news and information, and so on, while the gaijin feign interest and understanding whilst fighting the urge to doze off or burst out laughing. But this one wraps up quickly being it the last of the term, and we're soon back at their halls, watching The Office and trying out the new RC vehicle. Which drives like a dream. One of those "I'm driving a remote-controlled car dreams".

A FROSTY RECEPTION

Snow and suspicion was in the air today. We had lunch at a little ramen place just opposite the university - which also turns out to serve the most delicious ramen in the world. As a result, Dan said all other ramen had been spoiled as it could never compete. And indeed, the akamiso ramen was simply divine. The restaurant also played some truly ludicrous J-pop with lyrics like "I am Japanesey" and something concerning going to the "hotel lobby". However, our friends were running late to see the Chinese students' presentations, so Jona had to let us in to his halls so we could grab our bags as Josh and I were heading into town.

Now the good thing about Shisoryo is that you get daily contact with Japanese students, improving everyday conversational skills no end. But then there are the rules and regulations. No showers for guests I can understand, as the communal washroom is downstairs and naked strangers is perhaps going too far and you're using water you're not paying for - besides, we ended up just using the on-campus showers for the gym area. However, guests must also be accompanied at all times, which proved somewhat difficult.

As soon as I grabbed my backpack, I get stopped by four guys in Jona's cluster, some of whom I'd already introduced myself too, who begin to interrogate me, asking who I was, what I was doing and how I'd gotten in. As they led me downstairs, I met with Josh and we explained the situation as best we could. They reminded us of the rule and we apologised profusely. They said it was okay, but it was clear that none of them bought it at all. We left hoping we hadn't messed things up royally. When we met with Jona again, he explained that it had been cleared up and that they did genuinely want to talk with us and get to know us (and we did chat with them a fair amount over the week to let them know we weren't psychos), but it's just they're a real stickler for the rules. They often say "Oh, WE don't mind, but others blah blah blah...", when it's clear they do care, and they don't bat an eyelid when residents bring back girlfriends or have Japanese friends over. All they asked was if I stayed in someone else's cluster one night, which I agreed to (though it never came to pass), and I made more efforts to say "Hi" and give a 自己紹介 (self-introduction) when necessary.

Despite all this, I got an even worse going-over on Friday morning. I'd woken up and was just sitting in the cluster on my own (as I had been permitted to do), waiting for Jona to wake up. There I was, minding my own business, when out comes one of Jona's clustermates (for want of a better word) who gives me a proper bollocking. He says, "This isn't a hotel! This is our space, not your free space! I don't know you're not a robber or a criminal - only Jon knows!". In Japanese, of course. He then tells me I need to go to Jon's room straight away. I say that he hasn't woken up yet, but he tells me to go wake him then. So I do - which is pretty unfair. Tsk, some people...It's a shame that there were a few jerks, as the vast majority of people were very friendly.

But I'm getting ahead of myself - back to Tuesday. Josh and I arrived in Sapporo to go for a little walk around the city, but taking great care to avoid too much snow sculpture-ogling - that was due for Thursday. Instead, we walked to the Old Sapporo Government Building and met a giant snowman. He told us to take a look inside at some of history of Hokkaido exhibits, some of which were good (mammoth teeth!), others a little poor (many displays consisted of photographs of displays in better museums). We also visited the Tokei-dai, the symbol of Sapporo. People come from all over the country to see what Jona had described as "shed with a clock", but I'd say it was more of a 'Wendy house'. Regardless, it was pants. We walked by the TV Tower and decided to head towards the river to see if any interesting was there. The maps about town were grossly unproportional as it took as a long time to walk all the way, only to find nothing but snow. The river wasn't even frozen. Though it goes to show that when we mentioned our trip there, Jona didn't even know there was a river in Sapporo. After a brief 'Who Can Throw A Snowball Further?" competition (curtailed by the fact we couldn't see where they were landing), we motioned back towards town.

We headed to the main shopping district for some arcade games (Time Crisis 4 and the very fun Half Life 2: Survivor), souvenir shops and a peak into the seafood and shellfish restaurants. We hit Susukino, the main entertainment area, which had the streets filled with ice sculptures, many completed, but some still being carved with chainsaws. It was also where the influx of tourists for the snow festival was made very apparent - some idiot American shouting at the top of his lungs "HEY! HEY BECKY! BECKY, LOOK! STARBUCKS! STARBUCKS! HEY, BECKY - THEY GOT STARBUCKS!". There were also a variety of igloo ice-bars, as well as, joy of joys, an ice karaoke box! As we wait in line, we get hot drinks and Josh and I deliberate over which song to pick. Not sure exactly what to plump for that we're both capable of, we settle on David Bowie's "Heroes" (natch) - it's pretty straightforward. And if you get enough points, you can win a Nintendo DS! It's our turn, and we give it our all (as much as you can sat down on an ice bench anyway). Our results screen pops up - 50...80...83! Far better than anyone else we'd seen that evening (mostly 60s and 70s), and only 2 points off a prize (500 yen off something or other). We're congratulated and given a sweets and snacks goodie bag, plus an enthusiastic Japanese couple shake our hands and say we're cool. Nice.

We soon meet Jona, Chris and Dan from their music lesson in town and we head back to Ainosato Kyoikudai to meet with Thom, Taiki, Kevin and the Chinese contingent celebrating a post-presentation party. Many drinking games and snack platters later, it's karaoke for real and super cheap. While Chinese songs dominate the selection (with only "Ring Da Ding Ding Dong" offering much for non-speakers to sing along to), there are plenty of great songs and emotional ballads for us to pour our feelings into after a long hard day. We get back around 3.30am.

Coming soon in Part II: snowboarding, snow sculptures, Sapporo Beer Garden and Surira!

To see all my Hokkaido pictures, check out my Hokkaido Collection on Flickr.

Let's Adventure!

2007-02-03T05:31:00.000Z

I will be leaving Kyoto tonight on a voyage of discovery! Actually, it turns out I should have left early this morning, but due to a misunderstanding of what Saturday night meant (due to my ferry time scheduled for 00:45am), I've missed my original ferry. What a balls-up! However, the nice people at Shin-Nihonkai Ferry have been able to change my departure to the time I originally expected, but I am now leaving with Josh from a different port and arriving in Hokkaido at a different entry point (but still just an hour from Sapporo by train). Phew! What a relief!

Anyhoo, my trip reads as follows: after taking the train from Kyoto up North Honshu, Josh and I leave Tsuruga at 1:15am on a 20 hour ferry trip to Tomakomai. Arrive the same evening and take the train to Sapporo. Enjoy the snow festival, the freezing cold and the company of SOAS' Sapporo gents, before a return ferry trip (from Otaru to Maizuru), leaving the night of the 10th and I will end up back in Kyoto in time for bed the following day. After another day to catch my breath, it's off to Beijing with Baptiste and Ilan on the 13th February. We'll spend a few days there (shopping, Forbidden City, Great Wall), and hope to take in the sights of Xian and Shanghai (providing we have the time and resources) and celebrate the Chinese New Year. And will also meet up with Rob once I can work out a time our paths can cross. But it's onwards to Thailand on the 24th to meet up with Parn, enjoy the warm weather, beaches, sights of outstanding beauty and whatever else has been planned for us (exciting stuff indeed). And the seasoned traveller shall return to Japan on the 11th March. Hooray!

I've bought a digital camera for my travels, so hope to take plenty of snaps. Not sure how regularly I'm going to be on the internet, so can't guarantee news and photos as and when it happens, but expect a bumper update upon my return, and I should still be checking my emails from time to time. Until I'm back in Japan, here's a little edit I put together using footage from the infamous Zelda: The Wand of Gamelon. However, when I made mine, I didn't realise just how many other people had made their own mixes. As a result, mine looks somewhat inferior in the madness department, but I think it works all the same. Once you've watched my effort, be sure to view everyone else's, and the original animations themselves. It's pretty hideous, but no worse than the original American cartoon series ("Well excuuuuuuuse me, Princess!" x infinity):

My Friends in Ambridge

2007-01-28T09:18:00.000Z

It's exam time, with revision, presentations and essays all on the agenda, but almost instantly after they've finished, I'm heading to Hokkaido, China and Thailand, so I don't know when I'll get another opportunity to post some recent news before then. So I just wanted to write a little bit about my visit to Sanjusangen-do Temple on Sunday 14th January (the weekend after we returned to university).

I had visited Sanjusangen-do with Harry in 2004 during my first trip to Japan and had been meaning to make a return trip, and that day was the perfect time to do so, as they were holding theire annual archery tournament. I woke up early to make my way there in good time, but it was already hustling and bustling before 10am. The crowds were gathered, the flags unfurled, and the food stalls already cooking away (including baked potatoes, but apparently sans fillings).

Of course, a large proportion of the crowd consisted of the archers themselves, both male and female, dressed in traiditional attire and kimonos. It seems this particular event, the Toshi-ya Matsuri, is heavily connected with the Coming of Age Day that thad taken place the Monday before, in which those who turned 20 the previous year visit temples and shrines smartly dressed and celebrate their adulthood. Both events used to take place on the 15th January, but the Coming of Age Day was moved to the first Monday of the month a few years ago, and subsequently this event at Sanjusangendo was moved to a Sunday (to maximise attendees, no doubt). It only then became clear to me that those competing weren't professional archers, but I guess those who had recently come of age and this was an accompanying ritual. Considering there were thousands taking part, I thought it had been doubtful that there were so many Edo-period archers in Kyoto anyway.

Before I could watch any archery, it was time to take a walk through the temple itself. As it was the main thoroughfare to get to the best archery viewing position, the crowds shuffled through with a very pushy (and frankly un-Buddhist) attitude. Which is a shame, as the temple is a truly awe-inspiring. The long, narrow hall is filled with over a thousand life-size Buddhist statues lined up row after row. Cameras are banned, but they wouldn't be able to fully capture the magnificence on view anyway. As this was a special day, the central Kannon was the focus of worship as the monks were out in force. As I turned a corner, one monk was sitting in a raised box of sorts, chanting and flicking holy water with a stick from a dish. I stood back as others shuffled past, offering money for the privilige of getting a few droplets of water, but the monk acknowledged my presence and gave me a little splash anyway, which was nice. It all felt very spiritual, you know? At that point, I felt that, despite all the wars and conflict it's responsible for, organised religion has also inspired art and architecture of immense beauty. How uncharacteristically profound of me, I know.

I finally squeezed myself out of the temple to a platform overlooking the shooting range. Ten competitors lined up with two shots each before the next batch got a turn and so on. I didn't take any pictures or video footage of the targets, because they seldom hit a thing! I guess they must've all been amateurs, as the people keeping the scoreboard looked pretty disinterested, but I guess it was more a chance for parents to watch their children act all grown up and handle a weapon (it was an interesting experience being surrounded by people with potentially lethal equipment). I think you got a certificate if you actually hit the target, because there were very few people who had competed clutching one. Unfortunately, I couldn't stick around to watch the female competitors, but I had an inkling that they'd be a lot better than the guys.

For more pictures of bows and arrows, click here to look at the snaps I uploaded.

I returned to Mukaijima in time for lunch and with the vouchers I picked up near Sanjusangen-do, a trip to McDonald's to indulge in the new MegaMac was a must. I'd seen ads for it everywhere, and just on the way to Sanjusangen-do, it was a major topic of conversation amongst those in my proximity. It's as if Super Size Me never happened! And it certainly lives up to the promise of 4 beef patties in one mouthful. In fact, it's become so popular in Japan, they've extended the length of the campaign as they're dealing with the kinds of shortages, queues and store limitations that would usually typify a next-gen games console launch. Will I get another chance to eat one before they vanish? Only time will tell.

And finally, I had to just post a little about these guys:

This was the night of the Coming of Age Day and the day before we started back at Doshisha. Myself, Neil and Baptiste were just leaving the Round One amusement centre in Sanjo when a white minivan drove past with the door open, revealing the Power Rangers (or at least, a band of similarly colour-coordinated super-heroes) singing and shouting. Once we started to head to Shijo station, they reappeared on the streets, a group of young Japanese guys, drunkedly celebrating their coming of age by running around Kyoto on a chilly night, armed with a banana and posing for photos. They very kindly offered to assume superhero stances (I gave them an Ultraman stance which proved to be a hit) for this photo, which features the Pink and Yellow Rangers getting extremely close and cosy (always thought they were a couple). As we said our thanks and goodbyes, they replied with a hearty English "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" - I think they misunderstood that lesson, but I'm not going to hold that against them, as they're probably too busy saving the earth and battling giant aliens and robots to really care. Kudos, sirs - you are true heroes indeed!

New Year's Revolution

2007-01-07T10:20:00.000Z

This fortnight break for Christmas and New Year has predominantly involved me sleeping until noon, doing very little work, and then going to bed. Which would be fine if this were a typical winter holiday, except this is merely a short gap before my end-of-term exams, reports and presentations, i.e. I should really be spending my time studying and not typing up blogs.

Nevertheless, I must endeavour to tell you about my New Year experience, as it was obviously different than usual. Myself, Talyn, Anthony and Iran met up for dinner at a lovely soba restaurant in Shinkyogoku, followed by an impromptu photo sticker-booth session before heading off to do New Year Japanese style at Yasaka Shrine, the place to do it apparently. And even though this was a highly important religious event in the Japanese calendar (more so than even Talk Like A Pirate Day - savvy?), there were still plenty of stalls about, peddling hot food, snacks, sweets, raffles, toys and games.

Crowds gathered for okera maeri, in which you light a small strip of rope from the temple flame to be taken back with you to light the first household fire of the new year. It was also an opportunity to warm your hands on what was an exceptionally cold night. We headed through the Shrine to wander around Maruyama Park in the moonlight and engaged in a rendition of A-Ha's Take On Me with a soba-seller on the way. After a brief stop in a warm, indoor souvenir shop, we walked past the main gate and up the staircase to Chionin Temple, home of Pure Land Buddhism and the biggest bell in Japan - perfect for the joya no kane ritual, in which the New Year is ushered in by ringing the temple bell 108 times to purge mankind of the 108 Buddhist sins. The crowds had gathered and we joined the winding line to watch the ritual take place.We arrived around bong #35 to see the 17 monks swing the beam into the giant bell, a spectacular sight indeed. As we hung around to catch some more bongs, Lenka popped out of nowhere! She and her boyfriend James had been there since 8.30pm (we'd only got there around 10.30pm) and were braving the freezing temperature to watch the event in its entirerity. We decided to leave around bong #56, half an hour to midnight.

But what to do and where to go when the big hand touched the little hand? Time was ticking away, Ilan had vanished and Tal was queueing for a curry! With minutes to spare, all members of our party assembled in front of a less then impressive clock by Maruyama Park to watch the countdown. But it still said 11:55 when our mobile phones read 00:00 - so we let out a whoop and a squeal and danced about. However, the Japanese didn't do a damn thing. While my usual New Year's peaks at this time, the actual turning of the clock is relatively insignificant in Japan, as one takes the whole night and into the first sunrise of morning to make their temple visits (which explained the vast queues to get into Yasaka Shrine as we left at around 2am). Not me though, it was too too cold. I'm not keen on celebrating Christmas in the southern hemisphere, but I'd be quite happy to celebrate the New Year in a warm climate, that's for sure.

I spoke to Baptiste, Parn, John Dykes and Rory Chu on the phone from Tokyo as a couple of other foreigners came over to offer us champagne. Tal and Tony had to get up early in the morning, so they left soon after midnight - but myself and Ilan stayed to watch a young circus tricks performer. If you've been to an eight-year-old's birthday party, you've already seen his act (Wow! Balloon poodle!), but it was all fresh to the majority of spectators. Either it was lack of experience or the cold or both (or all three), but his tricks were rarely 100% successful (dropping a juggling ball here and there), so when it came to the knives and flaming torches, it made it all a little more exciting, but fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately), nothing disastrous happened.

Although the crowds were still very much out in force with roads closed and policemen and green beret-wearing guards diverting people down alleyways, it was time to return to Mukaijima around 2am - good to see the trains running throughout the whole night, though it'd also be welcome on Fridays and Saturdays every week.

The next two days were spent as mentioned before, but I made the effort to visit Heian Shrine for Hatsumode (the first visit of the year) to see what all the fuss was about. And even though it was now the 3rd day of the holidays, the crowds in Kyoto were even busier than on New Year's Eve. The stalls were all present and correct as thousands descended on the shrine to offer money, tie little paper strips to branches, make inscriptions on wooden plaques (there was a sign showing who in particular should do so, based on age and gender, probably connected with those born in a Year of the Boar as is 2007), buy souvenir arrows - no idea what it was all about, but interesting to see all the same. Some people even came in traditional garb, both men and women, but even then, the fashionistas were clearly in competition. One gaggle of kimono girls had more accessories on them than a teenager's mobile phone.

That evening, it was a Mukaijima karaoke session, which was pretty much like every other one, except I had a nice cocktail called Violet Fizz (or Violent Fish as it came to be known) that tasted like alcoholic Parma Violet sweets. Nice. And then it was back to reality, and as every bit exciting as that sounds.

More photos naturally at MyFlickr. And I'll leave with another funny sign I spotted at a garage/petrol station a couple of months ago, offering sage advice for the new year ahead. Have fun in 2007, boys and girls!

Five Festive Days

2006-12-29T07:17:00.000Z

Just as I experienced my first (minor) earthquake last week, I'm now currently enjoying my first Japanese snow (which isn't settling, but there's been a lot of it blowing about the place on and off all day). As a result, I'm in the mood to tell all about my Christmas, which kicked off last Friday.

Friday 22nd - Saturday 23rd December: Second Royal at Metro, Kyoto

Having become something of a fan of Halfby, I was keen to see him and the rest of the Second Royal crew celebrate the end of the year live in Kyoto, and on the night we finished our lessons for the Christmas break. Perfect timing! Well, better timing than I had when I went there. I'd never been to the club before, so to scope out the place before others arrived, I got there half an hour early. When they said it was by Keihan Marutamahi exit 2, they weren't lying - it clearly was called Metro for a reason. With music playing, but no one on the front desk, I decided to take a look inside, and walked in, no questions asked, to see a band warming up. It took a few minutes before someone came up and told me politely they weren't open until 10pm. Never mind! I went for a walk, and then met Brett at the station for the proper entry time. Being one of the first to arrive, we each got an exclusive compilation CD (plus everyone got a badge with Thames Beat written on it, which I later discovered to be a Britpop-influenced Japanese quartet). As other friends arrived, we got some drinks, got some seats and enjoyed the festive selection of tunes on offer (and I brought along my flashing Ho-Ho-Ho! Santa hat, which got some nice comments).

Then, we got a selection of live music from a number of bands who all seemed to be composed of members from each other's bands (the drummer in particular popped up for all four of them). First was Meton Milk (pictured), my favourite of the evening, offering Supercar-esque rock that had just about the most perfect sound levels I've ever heard for a live band. Next was solo guitarist Satoru Onu, who I think was singing in English, but always had a look of intense paranoia in his eyes that was somewhat offputting. Still, he got better as the tunes got more rock and roll. Then came Wednesday, perhaps the happiest two guitarists I've ever seen. Their chirpiness and constant grinning would no doubt win over X-Factor voters. They were then joined on stage by a new lead singer to become the band Rufus (see what I mean about interchangeable band members?), who were the biggest hit with the crowd thanks to their easy, sunshiney, very marketable pop-rock. Throughout the live bands, I chatted with a few of the other attendees, particularly Paul Weller fan Datsu, his girlfriend Ri, and some guy who just kept saying "I'm Crazy!".

It was also during this time that we noticed our star dancer of the evening, a middle-aged Japanese man dressed in black, who was the very definition of 'fish out of water'. He spent the entire evening in the middle of the dancefloor, his eyes apparently closed, lunging his head slowly from side to side towards those around him, sometimes getting right in their face. Sometimes, he'd even include a bizarre hand gesture. It was both hilarious and a little creepy, particularly when his moves were in the direction of the ladies, but we figured he was too out of it to be of any real threat.

It was past 1am before the DJ sets began, introduced by Second Royal M.C. O.S.A. dressed up as Santa and swigging a 1 sho bottle of sake (1.8 litres), which he would later offer up into the crowd when he hit ground level (I dutifully agreed to much appreciation). First up was Fredo, and from that instant I was sold on the Second Royal party experience. Terrific choice of tunes and exactly the kind of music I was after. Plus, I managed to grab a remix CD of his thrown out into the crowd (which didn't get released until a week or so later). By the time Halfby (pictured) came on, the crowd was smashed and sweaty, but that didn't stop some truly rambunctious behaviour. Myself and Brett ascended to a table above the crowd, and our synchronised dance moves (joined by a perspiring topless Japanese fella) drew much attention from our fellow party-goers. When a bizarre remix of Itsy-Bitsy-Teenie-Weenie-Yellow-Polka-Dot-Bikini played, my knowledge of the lyrics astounded many. Indeed, there were a great many tracks I knew, from Franz Ferdinand to Fatboy Slim, Beastie Boys to The Jam. But there were also a lot of English-language tracks the Japanese contigent knew word for word, but had never passed my ear drums before. The DJs were all terrific, but what really got the crowd going was the free-for-all nature of the event as we headed into the wee morning hours. They all intermingled with the crowd, attempting a number of stage dives (unsuccessfully), hugging, high-fiving, pointing and air-guitar-playing like crazy. It all came to an end around 5.30am, but I managed to get a brief drunken thanks from the M.C.. As I was leaving, I also stopped Halfby and fellow DJ Handsomeboy Technique for a brief chat. Halfby was elated when he found out I'd listened to his album and that he had a gaijin fan! He said that I should come to their next show in January - a very tempting invitation.

Indeed, the party at Metro was one of the best nights clubbing I've ever had. The music was absolutely spot-on throughout, everyone was so nice and friendly and the atmosphere was that of jovial jubilation. And I made the front page on the website - well, at least my arm did (the Polysics sweatband was good for something after all). We made the slow trip back to Mukaijima, and slept through most of the day. We needed the energy of course for tomorrow was...

Sunday 24th December: Universal Studios Japan

Myself, Ilan, Parn, Baptiste and Neil all headed super early to Osaka to spend Christmas Eve at Japan's copy of Universal Studios. As we queued up, our excitedness reached silly six-year-old child levels as we saw the tracks of a giant rollercoaster that had not been alluded to in any promotional paraphenelia, but the anticipation subsided when it appeared unopened (it turns out the ride, Hollywood Dream, is scheduled for a Spring 2007 opening). Nevertheless, there was plenty more to keep us occupied. As the only Universal Studios veteran (and something of a theme park expert), I decided we should head to the end of the park first and then work our way back, as the queues wouldn't be so long as those for the entrance. And it seemed to pay off. So here's my attraction-by-attraction breakdown for everything we did, with a final score based on actual enjoyment versus waiting time.

Jurassic Park - as we queued, I learned the Chinese for dinosaur (konglong - which means scary dragon, but also is used to insult a woman so ugly, men flee in terror from her). We refused the ponchos, as it was rather sunny and we'd have the whole day to dry off. The actual ride was just as good as I remembered, with some impressive anamatronics. When the T-Rex appears, everyone screamed, but the final drop was truly terrifying! 9/10

Jaws - a shark adorned with a festive garland hung outside as a photo-op. I pretended to kiss the anus of a wooden frog. This was a proper ride unlike the version in Hollywood which is embedded as part of the studio tour. What a great job it'd be to be the ride tourguide! You get to chat, interact and act, weild a (fake) shotgun, sail through explosions and kill a shark! 8/10

Waterworld - it seems Coca-Cola still rules the seas in the future thanks to their ride sponsorship (with signs in English, Japanese, Thai and Chinese). Kudos to all involved, getting very wet on a cold December day. A little bizarre to see it all in Japanese, but mighty impressive stunt work and hammy comedy villains. The Kevin Costner-alike looked like he'd eaten several Christmas lunches beforehand judging by his quick-tiredness and running speed, and I could've sworn the final climatic plane crash was bigger in the States, but I guess I was just smaller. 7/10

Terminator 2: 3-D - pff! Did you really think that waiting time would scare us? Actually, we were in within an hour. The intro from the CybderDyne host was just as good in Japanese as in English, with Californian lips and teeth replaced with insincere customer subservience you see everyday here. The 3-D footage made my eyes go funny at the start, but it was soon business as usual, with Arnie and co taking out all kinds of robots and gloopy metal monsters. 8/10

E.T. Adventure - the biggest mistake of the day. This time, the waiting time was a genuine three hours or so (I lost track - but we played several rounds of 20 Questions and I phoned Jona in Hokkaido). But the real reason I wanted to go was because E.T. says your name at the end; what better opportunity to exploit foreign lack of understanding to make everyone's favourite alien say a naughty word! But which one to choose? Nothing too obvious or vile I thought, and something that might sound like a name to the untrained ear. So I decided on good old Twat! As we finally made it to the entrance, we had to tell a member of staff our name: "Um...Twat?". "Towato?" comes the reply. "Hai...T...W...". She begins to type and I can't finish, such is my attempt to stifle my sniggering. She hands me my 'passport' which we present to another member of staff before we board our 'bicycles' for the ride. The actual ride is a somewhat uninspiring chase as we try to escape robot police officers before heading into space, whereupon we use our magic to save E.T.'s homeworld and all the disgusting creatures that live there (which I pretend to shoot with my finger-gun like the grown up I am - hell, I've already pretended my name is a swear). It's like Steven Spielberg's It's A Small World After All, and I want out as soon as it's over. But then comes the moment we've all been waiting for! There's E.T. - and he calls us one by one, and then: "Meerriii Kurisumasu...TWAT". Joy and rapture! But it only slightly makes up for the rest. 4/10

Back to the Future - a little long a wait but we got to hear all the great tracks from the trilogy's soundtrack. I got a little bored in the queue, and decided to do this (listen out at the end for Baptiste's WTFing):The actual ride was as genius as ever, and Baptiste in particular seemed to really enjoy going back in time (he previously announced his desires to become Doc Brown when he grows up, and despite little scientific grounding, he's not far off). 8/10

4-D Cinema - with only a 20 minute queue and Spider-Man closed (which Haruna has since told me is the best ride there), we said 'what the hey?' and headed off to see Shrek's 4D Adventure (4 dimensions basically meaning you wear 3D glasses, but your seat shakes and you get squirted with water). But as we were ushered in, expecting a choice of what to catch, it became clear we were going to be watching Sesame Street 4-D Movie Magic instead. To be honest, I wasn't hugely disappointed - I can imagine a Shrek short would involve another bout of embarassing karaoke numbers. We stood craning our necks up at the screen for the intro that went on far too long. Once we sat down in the cinema, the actual film was quite fun, and worth it just to see Cookie Monster eat a giant U.F.C (Unidentifed Flying Cookie). In 4-D! 5/10

Aside from the attractions, we also got to see the tallest Christmas tree in Japan, we met the REAL Hello Kitty (I'm positive it was her!), I stood on a very young girl's foot (by accident, I'll have you know), my body-popping was better than someone who does it for a living (but I was hesitant to demonstrate as I wouldn't have wanted him to lose his job) I ate a very sloppy Mos Burger, and we entertained ourselves listening to a mad drunkard on the train back to Kyoto.

It was an enjoyable day out, but the main problem (excepting the inevitable queues and over-priced food, drinks and souvenirs) was that everything felt a good 15 years old, while the park was only now celebrating its 5th anniversary. As the majority of rides are based on the U.S. rides, themselves based on 20-30 year old films, it felt somewhat outdated. Even the video introductions featuring younger Spielbergs, Schwarzeneggers and, um, Thomas F. Wilsons dubbed into Japanese, were a bit old hat. Never mind, I was full of festive cheer, and ready for proper Chrimbles!

Monday 25th December: Christmas Day

I woke up around 9am, and opened my stocking in bed while listening to Christmas Carols. I also opened two presents, and ate a big breakfast while watching Peep Show and Hamish's stunning performance of 'Hey There, Panda Bear' from the Millfield Showcase (genuinely brought tears to me eyes). I then called Baptiste to check our plans for the day, and we headed out into Shijo for shopping and (what I thought was going to be) a late lunch. We met Parn and then later Haruna, and I bought a 2007 desktop calendar, then headed to Meidi-Ya store to check out the foreign foods they had in stock. Most of them were just American brand equivalents of already readily purchasable goods in Japan (do you really need US Doritos when Japanese Doritos are exactly the same?), but at least they had Marmite (and a Triforce logo). I decided to get a tin of chilli and a bag of chocolate-covered pretzels.

It had since become clear late lunch was to be supper instead, and while there was a bit of confusion assembling the rest of our party and a one hour wait before we could be seated, we finally got into the restaurant for my first yakiniku feast - two hours of all you can eat and drink, in which you barbecue platters of meat and vegetables over a charcoal grill. Yummy. It made up for a lack of a traditional Christmas roast, but a phone-call from home during our meal was a welcome treat. Absolutely stuffed, half headed home, while me, Baptiste and Neil headed to Round One for a bout of arcade gaming. I won Mario Kart GP as usual (despite forgetting how to drift), then played AfterBurner Climax (which was super-confusing and hard), before plucking up the courage to give GuitarFreaks and DrumMania both a go. Beginner modes only, but I think I've got the hang of them both and I'm itching to give them another shot. We then realised we had 10 minutes to catch our last train! Convinved we wouldn't make it in time, we decided to forgo our pass and take the different line as it had later trains, then change at Tambabashi - which thankfully turned out okay. Phew! Despite it being 1am, I stayed up to make raspberry jelly for tomorrow like a proper host would.

Tuesday 26th December: Boxing Day

This morning gave me the chance to finish opening all the lovely cards and envelopes that had been sent and for which I was most grateful. Thank you everybody! I then headed to the supermarket for provisions, and ate a little lunch while watching the Queen's Speech online. Unfortunately, today was very wet indeed, and I had invited my friends all the way out to Mukaijima in the pouring rain for food, drink, games and movies. But the weather hadn't dampened our spirits, and we gathered round anyway, snacking on chocolates, nuts, mince pies, crisps and the jelly I'd made. However, it was Baptiste's stellar crêpe-making skills that won us all over. Absolutely oishi with jam and sugar - c'etait delicieux, Monsieur Retailleau!

We then got together and played (in Japanese) the You Say We Pay Interactive DVD game Hamish had got me for Christmas. It was a lot of fun, but slightly hampered by the fact that many of the visual clues were of British television personalities, which made it exceptionally tricky for my French, Thai and Chinese opponents (the Impressions round was a disaster - only the presence of Kermit the Frog and Arnold Schwarzenegger won us any You Saw We Pay pounds; but what a crossover film that'd be!). We then watched Bad Santa, which I think got it's point across despite the (harsh) language barrier - wisely, the only phrase Ilan decided to adopt was "Are you insane?". We then braved the rain to take the train saying "Are you insane?" all the way to Shijo for a karaoke session avec Neil and his two friends. While the majority continued well into the night, I wasn't in all-nighter mood and Parn had to call home, so we left before the price was hiked up. It had been a knackering few days, but a well-earned chance to kick back and forget about work...just as typing all this up has put back my work schedule by a good few hours. Bah! I'll start properly tomorrow, right?

Wow, almost 3000 words. If only my dissertation could be about 'stuff that happened' with no analysis or research - I'd be set!

To see loads more pictures from my days out and in, visit my Flickr page.

Chrimbletide

2006-12-25T03:33:00.000Z

For everyone I didn't send a Christmas card to, just print out this image (thanks to the Second Royal site for the reindeer, Willis for the pic of me at Santacon 2005 and Kyoto JR Station for the big Christmas tree), write a seasonal message on the back and pretend I sent it to you!

Anyway, thanks to everyone who sent me presents, cards and gift packages - haven't really opened any yet (of course, I will have to wait until after the Queen's speech, which will be around midnight in Japan), but I will try to convey my gratitude in some shape or form in the very near future.

Until then, Merry Christmas everybody!

Rory

Party or DIE!!!!

2006-12-22T08:04:00.000Z

Just before I gear up for a heady week of partying and festive cheer starting in just a few hours time (what with it being Christmas and having a two week break from lessons), it's probably about time I gave a rundown of some of the wacky weekends I had earlier this month.

First off was the Mukaijima Gakusei Centre Year End Party, on 2nd December (a little premature for a year end party I think). I had just got back from teaching three women English in Osaka, filling in for my friend Brett who couldn't make it that weekend - and it was a very interesting, fulfilling experience I'd like to have the opportunity to try again. And the pay was excellent too! I dumped my stuff in my room, then headed to the adjacent seminar house where most of the Mukaijima residents were gathered. And a select number of non-Mukaijima Doshisha amigos had also come along (some of whom had already begun the celebrations by going on a tour of Fushimi sake breweries during the day). After a few speeches, it was food and drink time, with four chefs cooking up some yummy Japanese food has everyone nattered and mingled. Then came the entertainment, which consisted mainly of Mexican dancing and acoustic strumming. And all hosted by Mukaijima's only male Japanese resident, Katsu - dressed as a chicken. During the show, I met a fellow English person, Josy, who was friends with Dries from Doshisha. And it turns out that she studied Japanese and History at SOAS (just like me)! She was now working and living in Nara after graduating in the summer and we spent a long time chatting away about Kashiwagi-sensei, Angus Lockyer, and Messrs. Kelly, Dykes and Chu (with whom she studied Korean with). It was inspiring to meet someone at the other end of the university tunnel and it's a shame we didn't meet before. Bizarre!

The final party part was a true or false quiz about Mukaijima and Japan, and despite some vague questions and incorrect answers, I managed to win a Hello Kitty flannel. However, a quick swap with Sarah resulted in a climber's chalk sack, which played host to my beer cans for the remainer of the evening.

The party then moved into the Mukaijima basement, which was seldom used, but they did a bang-up job of converting into a proper nightclub (with lighting provided by the Japanese DJ crew), not something that happens everyday, so I made full use of it. As the party kicked off, a circle formed, and as myself and Josh busted killer moves in the middle, it looked like we swifly killed off the competition - no one dared follow in our dancesteps! Nevertheless, the grooves continued afoot, and everyone was jumping about like loons soon enough (even if the DJs couldn't mix for disco fudge). However, by midnight, many people had to call it a night, as some had trains to catch, while others had an exam the next day.

I retreated to behind the bar and despite not being officially appointed bar staff, no-one seemed to care by that point. I helped myself to the hefty selection on offer, with a raft of spirits and liquors to mix with alongside the cans of beer and Cocktail Partner, and stopped charging anyone else for drinks. I'm no expert on Japanese licensing laws, but I'm sure it's not 100% legit to sell alcohol in a makeshift bar in the basement of a student dorm - I saw myself as something of a people's champion. And when I found a bottle of cinnamon After Shock - which stunned the Japanese barflies with its 40% alcohol content - I was letting people share a taste of my sugary shot youth. It was now MY BAR!

By 3am, the only people remaining were me, Marcus (from Germany who I've karaoke'd and watched TV with many times), and the Japanese lighting and music crew. Well, I say Marcus remained, but by that point, his Japanese, English and German had all mushed into one incomprehensible slur - all I could make out was him asking for another whiskey and coke, each time with a little less whiskey, which he'd still pay for every time. After more chatting and drinking (and I drank a lot), it was time to pack it up and pack it in at 3.30am. Nighty night.

Next weekend was myself and Tal's trip to Nagoya! We met at Kyoto station after I'd sent postcards and greeting cards to the UK, and boarded our coach for the two and a half hour trip. It was cheaper and more convenient than train-hopping, even if the Shinkansen could get us there in 40 minutes flat. Plus, it was exciting going on the motorway, just to have a look at Japan from a different point of view - the road-user. On the outskirts of both cities, we were 'treated' to some of the crummiest looking hotels I've ever seen. Faux Arabian spires, castle decor, the travesty that was the Hotel London, and the uninvitingly named Hotel Charon (would you want to stay at a hotel named after the ferryman who transports dead souls to Hades?). As we approached Nagoya, we also got to see what Lenka described as the Japanese version of Las Vegas - even more hotels, gaudy pachinko parlours, comic shops with massive signs - but everything was far more...grey.

Nagoya itself is actually rather nice though. We met the whole SOAS Nagoya crew of Lenka, Mikael and Bobby at Nagoya station. Despite not being very hungry, we decided to have a look at the restaurants on the 17F floor of the station - but when we spotted an Indian restaurant called Maharaja, there was no question we had to eat there. Tal and I had only just been talking on the coach about how we would love a decent curry - lo and behold, our destiny awaits! I ordered the deluxe set which included three curries, shish kebab, tandoori chicken, salad, naan and rice. It's amazing how an appetite can develop when presented with the possibility of really lovely food. And boy was it delicious - exactly what I needed, and we all left with a spring in our step, and spicy food in our bellies.

Before heading to the gig, we took a walk around Nagoya's main shopping areas, complete with wonderful Christmas illuminations, a massive fountain and tower, another ferris wheel (it seems as much of a prerequisite of a major Japanese city as a city hall - Osaka has two!) and a bright green laser fired into the sky for apparently no reason - maybe Nagoya was dangerously below the average light pollution Japanese cities produce, or it was a Batman-esque signal for a flourescent green superhero.

We said our goodbyes to Lenka and Bobby, and met Mikael, who'd brought his American friend Matt (who's ID card photo had RAPIST written all over it - but he was too nice to be a real one) along, at the Polysics venue. Which was on the 8th floor of a department store - a little strange, but once we were inside, you wouldn't have been able to tell otherwise. There was a little confusion as to which department store at first as the shop was called Parco, but after trying Parco South and Parco West, it turned out to be at Parco East - very helpful...Despite the ticket stating it included a drink, it seemed we had merely paid for the chance to buy a drinks ticket for 500 yen, which we could then exchange for a kids size portion of beer (if kids could drink beer). We dumped our stuff in the coat room (which was a bank of lockers which could only accomodate for about a third of attendees) and decided to take our places. Undeterred by the density of the Polysics fans that had already gathered in the small cramped gigfloor, we pushed and weaved ourselves towards the front and myself and Mikael began a loud conversation about how we were on the You-You-You DVD, hoping it might get some nearby fans interested - mmmmmmm....no.

Then, soon after 7pm, the show began. No warm-up acts or introductions. Just pure Polysics -very loud and very live! The band was on top-form, Hayashi tearing up the stage with the kind of energy few humans possess. There was even some wonderful synchronised dance routines amid the chaos. The Japanese fans were moshing furiously despite barely being able to move in any direction other than up (images from Chemistry class of densley packed molecules in solid masses flashed through my mind). It got unbelievably hot and sweaty - it was not soon before I was gasping for air and realised how useful the Polysics towels and sweatbands other fans had bought were. Indeed, on the official Polysics blog, Hayashi says:

クアトロ全体が蒸し風呂＆ゆでダコ状態になった！！！！
(The whole of Quattro became a steam bath and I felt like a boiled octopus!!!!)

While I wanted to move closer to the stage, I encountered a deadlock of couples clinging tightly together in the storm - it looked as if most of the girls had fainted under the heat anyway. It didn't matter, as despite being five rows from the front, the natural height advantage gave me a clear view. I still sang, screamed and shouted along, making all sorts of the strange hand gestures one invariably does at gigs. At one point, I was pointing and resting my elbow on the shoulder of the guy in front of me...until I realised it wasn't his shoulder but his girlfriend's head.

As for the actual music, well it was brilliant as ever. Kaja Kaja Goo was something like the second song, there was a wonderful slow-stomp version of Commodoll that provided a welcome breather, and many of the tracks from Now is the Time!. While there was no Black Out Fall Out, we got to see plenty of songs that only the Japanese fans knew, including a great interlude which consisted of all the band members talking very quickly over one another. By this point, the salty sweat was blinding my eyes as if I'd just taken a dip in the ocean. I'd forced my way even closer, and Hayashi's crowd interaction reached new levels of madness - from classic stage diving to trying to stick as many of the crowd's fingers in his mouth as possible. While I didn't get the digit sucking treatment, I got arm, foot and guitar contact.

Seemingly as echausted as the band, we were still ready for the encore onslaught, and they racked up an amazing four encores, during which they spoke a little bit about the new album in the works (a new single, Catch On Everywhere, is released on 31st January) and generally catching their breath. Final song was as I hoped: You-You-You - which brought the house down. But that was far from it. After disappearing off stage briefly, this mad electronic music began. The band returned with the two male members brandishing noise-making plastic mallets and the female members armed with Polaroid cameras. They then preceded to bash the heads of the crowd a la Whack-a-Mole (I got 3 confirmed smashes in a row), while Kayo and Fumi took snaps and tossed them into the crowd. Absolutely astonishing stuff, and all wrapped up by 9pm. The Polysics blog goes on to say it was their best live show yet, and the prospect of their 10th anniversary show in March in Tokyo is a tempting one indeed.

Drenched in sweat, aching all over and pretty much knackered, we waddled out of the venue. Matt and Mikael bought Polysics t-shirts and changed into them, and while I did buy a t-shirt, sweatband and towel, I didn't want to use my new purchases on my sweaty self. So we headed out into the chill of night, which did little to help my stinky soaked situation. Refreshed after a trip to the convenience store, we toyed with the idea of heading back to Kyoto that evening, but it turned out the last coach had been at 7pm.

Mikael said we could stay at his place, but guests were strictly prohibited and it seems he lives with a bunch of childish snitches who we needed to avoid at all costs. Despite the security risks of us trying to get in earlier than we'd planned, we made a go for it anway. Matt and him scoped the area, then Matt went in and unlocked a back door. We climbed over a fence, and ninja'd to the door, removed our shoes, and hot-footed it into Mikael's room, closing the door behind us. We'd succeeded, but now it was the time for sleepy time on the floor.

We woke around 11am, and with showers prohibited because of our secret entry and no cash, we decided to get the next coach back to Kyoto (the Nagoya Robot Museum will have to wait another day). That same weekend, Tingshan was visiting from Tokyo, and before she went, I met her, Baptiste and Parn at Kyoto station for some yummy omelette soba and Calpis Chu-hai.
For Tal's view on the Polysics trip plus a few photos, click here!

Phew! If you've read all the way down to the bottom, congratulations. I plan to post a Christmas message soon, reports on some upcoming parties and outings as well as some more general thoughts and ramblings, plus more film and CD reviews, as well as casting my critical eye over an amateur stage production of a love story between a girl and Godzilla. I'm going now, bye!

A Positive Blur

2006-11-29T13:11:00.000Z

For shame, I have not been posting as much as I should be in recent times, but the past couple of weeks have rushed by so quickly, it's been hard to keep track of everything that's been going on. It seems like whenever I'm not studying, I'm at either going braindead watching drivel on the internet or attending a nomihodai/karaoke fest. So here's a brief rundown of some of the highlights that pop into my brain:

Nintendo World 2006
Baptiste and I travelled to the Nintendo World 2006 event at Intex Osaka to join the masses for their first taste of Wii (the first and last pun on the console's name I'm going to make). Hundreds had turned up, from all age ranges and usually with a DS in hand, queuing for hours to get their hands on the new machine for just a few minutes. Apart from The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess (3 hour queues and closed off by the time we got there), biggest attraction was Wii Sports, with most of the show floor taken up by the various minigames included in the package. I opted for WarioWare: Smooth Moves (ingenious), Super Mario Galaxy (return to form) and Sonic and the Secret Rings (fun but weightless), and our patience was rewarded. A lot of fun for Nintendo fanboys such as ourselves. Of course, now it's out in the US and only days from its Japanese and European release, writing about my experience feels somewhat redundant. Still, when I'll have a chance to play one properly again is uncertain.

Children of Men
I'm probably going to give this a more in-depth review on RoryView, but this is the first time I've been to the kinoplex since my arrival in Japan. Usually, it's 1800 yen a cinema ticket, but we have a ticket shop at Doshisha for discount concert/film/theatre tickets, as well as for flights and train journeys. So I got 500 yen off. The Kyoto Movix multiplex is pretty massive, and doesn't really reveal it's size from the exterior alone, as it's part of the covered arcades that run through Shijo. I got a little thrill using the escalators - at first I thought they didn't work, but as I approached, they powered up and started automatically! Wow!
After a little short animation, and trailers for that Kevin Costner - Ashton Kutcher sea rescue film and Casio Royale (in which Bond spells BOOBIES on a calculator to synth music), onto the main feature, Tomorrow World (as it is known in Japan - which makes more sense when you see the film, but still a rather generic silly replacement). And it is perhaps the best film I've seen this year. Truly excellent stuff, and well worth catching on a big screen for a more involving experience. As I said, proper review soon.

Arashiyama
The whole of Kyoto seemed to descend on Arashiyama in western Kyoto (that's the west of Kyoto, not a district home to cowboys and gunslingers) in the last weekend of November to catch the kouyou (autumnal leaves) before Jacobian Frosties and his Winter Minions strip the branches bare. The weather was a blessing and the scenery was absolutely beautiful. Stunning reds, oranges and yellows throughout the area, especially in Tenru-ji, which I had visited in the summer back in 2004, but looked amazing this time round. We spent hours walking about, snapping piccies like billy-o. We then ventured into the bamboo groves for a decidedly different but just as impressive natural spectacle. It was a great way to spend a Saturday morning - shame it only happens once a year.

Meeting Ayaka
Ayaka, who lived down the road from Flat 1, Whitfield St, with Hiroko, was back from Egypt (again), so I went to meet her at Shin-Osaka after her flight had arrived. Realising there was sod all to do in the local area, we headed to Kyoto to have a walk around the station area. We did a bit of shopping (got my dear mama a birthday present), spotted a few items I would purchase a couple of days later (a coat now that it is chillier, some ace Christmas cards and a cheap little Resident Evil 4 toy) and then we decided to take a peak at Kyoto Station's giant Christmas tree. As we went up the escalator, we were ushered onwards by...well, ushers, and realised we'd unwittedly walked into an open-air concert called 'Cool Beat in Kyoto' celebrating 15 years of a local radio station. We stuck around for a few songs from a lady and her drum accompanied by a Jerry Sadowitz lookalike on guitar. It culminated in an interesting singalong version of Close To You which took a good few minutes to get an iota of enthusiasm from the shivering crowd. We then decamped to a nearby Starbucks for hot chocolate and chit-chat before Ayaka left for Nagoya and I went back to Mukaijima.

Pool
As part of Doshisha's anniversary celebrations we had three extra days off, so myself, Baptiste, Aleksi, Dominik, Brett and Nic were in the mood for bowling on a rainy Monday afternoon. After my second lunch of the day, we headed to the bowling centre (via a couple of games of Mario Kart GP Arcade), but it was a bit too expensive. Instead, we settled on a few hours of pool, in which we all proved to each other we're all a bit rotten when it comes to hitting the balls, let alone potting them. Still, it was fun enough, and while we didn't get round to the darts tournament (I wanted it to be like Shenmue again), we will always have our time in the photo booth. It was a seated one this time round, but from the demo pics, it really looks as if it were designed for two petite Japanese girls and not large, strapping foreign folk such as ourselves. We crushed ourselves into the frame for several snaps, but when it finished, an error message appeared and we had to seek assistance from a member of staff - it looked like we broke the machine. However, it was only a minor technical hitch, but it meant that the machine had automatically selected our pics for us while we had been dilly-dallying. We added a few 'cosmetic' touches and out came our glorious pics. Our tomfoolery is now forever with the ages. We were then given a free chance each on a UFO Catcher game (those claw grabbing machines). Seriously, if you pay to play any of these you are an absolute tool. A real muppet. Probably with a nagging girlfriend, pleading that you spend £1 a go trying to get that A Nightmare Before Christmas/Winnie the Pooh/Lilo & Stitch pillow that's deliberately unreachable and/or stapled down to the bottom of the toy chamber. Toy Story is full of lies. No surprises, we didn't win anything.

Doshisha Eve
The main Imadegawa campus had been transformed into a mini music festival site as part of the 131st anniversary of Doshisha's founding. The big tree at the west entrance had been converted into a lit up Christmas tree, countless stalls peddling their food goods to every passer-by screamed for attention (I only gave into the fried ice-cream), classrooms were taken over by the university's many societies (though I didn't venture indoors) and two music stages vied for our attention. Rock was on the agenda for most of the acts, of wildly varying quality and stage presence. Best of the night was probably a nu-metal covers band, and while I didn't know any of the tracks (Parn recognised a couple), they put on a good show and had matching boiler suits (always a plus to see a band in uniform).

And now for a double bill of bizarre english. First from my old frying pan. Having developed a strange metallic taste in my mouth over the past months, I thought the cheap cooking utensils might have had something to do with it, but research suggests otherwise. Nevertheless, I bought a new frying pan with the base inscription "I will enjoy a delicious meal by new kitchen goods" repeated over and over in a circle, creating a strange hypnotic effect. However, my previous pan will always hold a special place in my heart for this winning blurb, accompanied by a kettle and a cup of tea with a lemon slice perched on the rim:

Roses
Practical cooking!
Tool collection to make you the best chef your dear one.

And finally, how could I let this delicious chocolate pass by without a purchase:

Now, it is supposed to be pronounced A-SE, and is apparently Italian for 'board' or 'plank' which still doesn't make it sound very appetising, but probably refers to the shape rather than the taste. And it is actually pretty tasty, as you'd expect from Morinaga. We spent a good portion of a lunch time asking each other if we wanted a piece my Asse, and so on and so forth. It seems toilet humour rules supreme - from Wii to Asse, eh? DAMN IT! Another pun on Wii! Ah well...

Pictures from some of these escapades can be seen on my Flickr page and Baptiste's own photo galleries.

In Review

2006-11-17T13:29:00.000Z

This is just a quick post to point out that I have set up a fresh new blog to run alongside this one. RoryView (groan) is where I plan to review all the latest CDs, films, games, and the like that I consume on a regular basis. I've got quite a backlog of CDs I've been listening to (both purchased and rented from Tsutaya), so I hope to give my verdict on them all - well I am the host of London's best contemporary alternative Japanese pop and rock radio show! Well, maybe not best...but you get the idea. First up, I've reviewed the latest Polysics single. And be sure to check it regularly as I hope to review media and entertainment as frequently as I do my day-to-day existence...

Rory: Cultural Learnings of Japan for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of UK

2006-11-11T09:12:00.000Z

Friday 3rd November - Nara

Today was Bunka no Hi (Culture Day), so what better way to spend it than a trip to Japan's former capital and home of really old things, Nara. Besides, it's only a quick trip from Mukaijima and we were meeting the SOAS contingent of Nagoya's Nanzan University for the weekend. We arrived in the afternoon and headed through Nara park towards the Todai-ji. The deer had seemed to disappear from my last visit, replaced with bustling crowds in town for the Shosojin Treasure exhibition displaying national treasures that only see the light of day for a brief period each year, and this being a national holiday, it seemed like everyone in Kansai was making the pilgrimage. We focused on seeing Nara's big attraction, the Todai-ji and its massive Daibutsu-den (Hall of the Great Buddha - pictured above), the largest wooden building in the world and only two thirds its original size as well. I came here in 2004 and still knew my way around, but was again impressed at the scale of everything. The lovely afternoon sun and autumnal colours were out in force, and the deer were now far more plentiful (though recently rendered antler-less). We met Mikael and Bobby inside the Daibutsu-den and then took a walk around the eastern side of the complex, climbing up to the balcony of the Nigatsu-do for sunset views of Nara. It was dark as we passed through Nara park to meet up with Lenka and then we all went out for a delicious okonomiyaki supper (mmm...Calpis Chu Hai and Pizza Okonomiyaki) with Aussies Natalie (from Doshisha) and Jarred.

We then descended upon the nearby Sega arcade for games of Street Fighter, Rockman 2, Air Hockey, Virtua Fighter 5 and Taiko no Tatsujin 8 (see Lenka and Baptiste getting into the beat above), before rounding it all off with a photo-sticker booth session. The whole procedure was very confusing and really pushed you to make quick decisions for photo selections, print methods and the like - at one point, we thought we weren't going to get any photos at all, but lo and behold, out they came and by golly are there some choice gurns and positions being pulled. Shortly after, we headed back to Kyoto, Lenka to Tal's place, Bob and Mike to Mukaijima, where we ate snacks and watched Space Travelers.

Saturday 4th November - Balls and Torii

My glittering football career continues apace! This time, Kenta and chums were playing in a football tournament taking place at the Kyotanabe campus as part of the Doshisha Sports Festival. Our team, Onahaku F.C. International (being the only non-Japanese player, I geuss I'm the 'international' part), was one of 32 competing in the two-day knock-out tournament at the campus, which is home to the large university sporting grounds. I hadn't been to Kyotanabe before, and it was a lovely agricultural area, with the campus itself comparatively massive to the Imadegawa one.

We were to play the first match of the day, so it was an 8am start to meet up with Kenta at Mukaijima station, even though are actual game did not begin until 11am. Nevertheless, we met up with other members of our team (some from last time, including the irrepressible Uza, others I hadn't met before), and started to do a bit of kick-about practice. Unfortunately, Brett, who can actually play football and does so in a team based in Osaka, was under the weather and couldn't make it, but we managed to get someone on temporary loan to fill the gap (it seemed that between match transfers were being employed by every team anyway). The pitch itslf was located at the top of the campus (near the horse-riding area and the inline-skating) and the astro-turf was a welcome change from the sandy baseball grounds of my previous match.

Again, I opted for right midfield. I figured that as the matches only lasted 15 minutes each this time round, that the match would be over before I got too knackered. I think I played a little better this time, and while my input had little bearing on the overall score, I was happy that we actually won this time, a convincing 2-1 victory. This time, I only picked up a minor injury from punting the ball too hard, causing a little bleeding from my right big toe, but nothing too traumatic. Our next game would not be until tomorrow, so I bid my team-mates adieu and headed back through Kyotanabe.

I had not realised that this weekend was a broader Kyotanabe festival at the campus, with the sports competitions and demonstrations just a small part of it. There was a music stage with a beatbox pop song covers group called FullTone perfoming and many Doshisha societies were running a variety of stalls. I stopped in my tracks when I saw a Chicken Kebab stall, with Japanese onlookers marvelling at the food preparation which I consider so matter-of-fact in the UK with the same kind of awe I probably feel when I see your average Japanese meal being prepared. It was 500 yen for not very much and I had to queue for 20 minutes, but it was so worth it and I had a nice little conversation with the Turkish guy running it.

I returned to Mukaijima and Bob, Mike, Baptiste and I decided to head to Fushimi Inari-taisha for a late afternoon/early evening stroll. Famous for its thousands of red torii lining up the mountain path and its numerous stone foxes, a walk up Mt. Inari at night is a thrilling atmospheric experience, like a ghost train without the "boo!"s, allowing you to fully appreciate the eerieness of it all. As we passed through the winding gates as it became dark, we stumbled across many small graveyards and shrines, encountered various cats and spiders and walked through an area not unlike Ewok village from Return of the Jedi.

We dropped back into reality when we ate at Shakey's again (can't beat pizza/pasta buffet) before an evening of bowling with Doshisha, Kyoto Gaidai and Nanzan students. The Japanese organisation of the bowling experience is perhaps more complex than a typical Pure 3 Maths question, as we had to be split up into two groups of 8, then into groups of 4, then into pairs. We were told that half of us would have to wait half-an-hour to play, but then we played at the same time on the same lanes anyway! Plus I had to get special shoes for my (comparatively) colossal feet. Nevertheless, we had a good time and I managed to get a few satisfying strikes.

Unfortunately, I'd been led to believe this was to be just the start of a heady evening of entertainment and that I wasn't going to sleep before my next footie game the next day (which kicked off at 9am). As a result, I deliberately missed the last train home, only to find the majority of people calling it a night and everyone us saying there was no plan afterwards all along. Downtrodden, those staying in Mukaijima walked from Shijo to Kyoto station (about 20 minutes) and got a taxi back home (which worked out as only 600 yen or so each).

Sunday 5th November - Fireworks on the Field

Well not literally, but with a lack of Guy Fawkes festivities, I was going to explode on the pitch - a soccer explosion that is! Unfortunately, it isn't ideal waking up at 6am on a weekend morning, and much of the time getting ready was panicking about not being able to get in touch with LiLiang. He'd been at the bowling the night before and had promised to play this morning, but was not responding on his mobile, room phone or room buzzer (it later turned out he had missed the last train back and had to stay with one of our classmates - but again, player transfer was easy). Brett was coming, but a difficult train journey meant he was running late.

Nevertheless, the team got themselves psyched up for round two. It was a very warm morning (warmer than any November morning had a right to be - you could see the wibbly waves of heat at pitch level). We played to our best abilities this time around, but it was not as easy a match as last time. Brett arrived a few minutes before the end of another brief game with the final score 1-1. Penalty time - eep.

Either out of politeness or foolishness, they nominated me to take the 5th crucial penalty. As my time approached, both teams had seen all their shots hit the back of the sack. No pressure then. I stepped up to the plate, positioned the ball, and turned to face the goalmouth. And so worried was I that I'd miss the goal entirely, I decided to play it safe - and pretty much passed the ball to the keeper. Hnnnnnn...oops! Never mind. I returned to my team-mates who were supportive of my crapness; besides the game wasn't over yet. Our opponents' turn...and they miss! Joy of joys, and sighs of relief all round. Now it was captain Kenta's turn. He runs up, kicks...and the keeper saves! Oh dear. And when the other team scored their next penalty, it was all over. At least our loss wasn't completely my fault, and I guess if our team captain couldn't score, then I can't be expected to do much better, right? Though admittedly Kenta's shot was far better.

We were out of the tournament, but spent the rest of the morning kicking about some more. Brett joined in the game following ours, and we stormed the pitch every time there was a gap between matches or one of the halves was taken up with another penalty shoot-out. We even squeezed in another full fledged friendly with another team in between official games, which was far more enjoyable with the pressure off. It was a good morning's entertainment and exercise and I still had the rest of the day to do absolutely nothing - what else are weekends for?

Be sure to check out MyFlickr photos in My Links for more Nara and Fushimi piccies!

Ghoulish

2006-11-08T13:11:00.000Z

While Halloween is recognised in the UK as an excuse to watch horror movies, buy fake blood and indulge in childish shenanigans, it is celebrated on a greater scale in Japan, with seemingly every shop taking on a supernatural theme. My personal favourite was the giant inflatable vampire Mickey Mouse outside the Neo Mart in Shijo, complete with cape and pointy fangs. Try telling the kids that their favourite Disney mascot has become a blood-sucking Lord of the Undead - though admittedly, he has done far worse; how's about raping a snowman while Goofy does the nasty with Minnie?

Two Halloween parties were on the agenda this year, with the first being held for residents at Mukaijima Gakusei Center and Kyoiku Daigaku students. Looking around the shops for costumes proved somewhat fruitless, with few under the 3000 yen mark (£15 for a novelty item of clothing I will wear twice?). Among the ghosts and witches, there were some particularly Japanese cozzies, with Ringu-esque wig and robe kits, and, of course, Hard Gay accessories (if you don't know who I mean by that, don't be afraid to click the link, as it is mostly innocent).

I decided to create my own costume, and thanks to the local 100 yen shop, my total costume price amounted to around 400 yen total. I give you the most evil medical practitioner known to humankind...Michael Jackson's plastic surgeon. The outfit consisted of a shirt and tie (already owned), a raincoat, a red permanent marker (for blood splatters), pinhole glasses (to make reading/watching TV/driving/etc. less harsh on the eyes) and driving gloves with the fingers snipped off. All in all, I think it was a very effective costume indeed.

I had already helped make a couple of decorations for the party - a couple of pink pumpkins (the orange paint had run out), which were displayed on the wall as we entered the hall near Sumizome station. There were familiar faces (a bunch of fellow Doshisha amigos plus Taavi, Risto and Marcus) and many unfamiliar ones too (I was surprised to see adults and small children present for what I expected to be more of a student shindig). Anyway, there was lots of food and punch to keep us happy and while not a lot happened, apart from someone turning off the lights mid-munching, it was a good try-out of my costume for a bigger party on actual Halloween organised by Kyoto Gaidai at an underground bar called Den-en near Sanjo.

While the food and drink was a complete rip-off, most of Kyoto's costumed youth appeared to be gathered here. The Nightmare Before Christmas played on a big screen, people posed in their spooky get-ups and various party games were organised, including a rock, paper, scissors tournament and bingo (after a disastrous start I was one away on two different lines, but, alas, those numbers forever eluded me). Highlight of the evening were the two live bands, one playing mellow jazz and the next playing some groovy funk, followed by good ole party standards like Johnny B. Goode. I got my groove on, I can assure you - it was like the Enchantment Under The Sea Dance all over again! Then came the costume competition, which I entered but failed to even make the audience judging round! I mean, it wasn't the best, but it was certainly the cheapest and completely home-made! Surely there must be some kind of achievement prize for that! Never mind...Tal and Anthony were runners up for their samurai garb, so I guess that's some consolation. Of couse, no-one can compete against a transvestite - particularly when he had the uninitiated completely fooled.

You can view my Halloween party pics on my Flickr page. Halloween is also central to my Engrish of the week. While scouting for costumes, nestled next to the official Jason Voorhees Friday the 13th hockey masks were unofficial imitations that chose a rather roundabout way of differentiating themselves from their inspiration:

FRIDAY 13 DAY
KILLER MAN MASK
SHOCKING HORROR
THIS PRODUCT
GLOWS IN THE DARK

And as an extra special treat, I knocked out a new movie edit on YouTube. I downloaded footage of Biohazard 4D-Executer, a 3D thrill ride a la Terminator 2: 3D, or maybe Captain EO, based on the Resident Evil series. It was entertaining to watch, even if the CG is rather basic by today's standards, and it probably loses its impact on a little 2D screen. Neverthless, I've cut it up with the Gorillaz track 'M1 A1', which features samples from George A. Romero's Day of the Dead (see what I did there?). It's no Cheeky or Bouncy, but it only took me an hour, and for that I think it's fine.

NOTE: Said movie has been removed from YouTube for Copyright Infringement. Oopsie-daisy!

Such Sights To Show You

2006-11-01T14:13:00.000Z

Here's a selection of images I have gathered from the past month and a half of my time in Kyoto that defy categorisation, logic and explanation. But despite all this, I'm going to try my darndest to make sense of them all. Give them a click to enlarge (reminds me of some spam I've received before).

I tells ya, you try to start a conversation with a lady and she just freezes up and ignores you. It's like Mannequin all over again! Just joshing of course. This was at the Nishijin Textiles Center, which was informative but had some bizarre elements, namely the kimono show. Hordes of camera-toting tourists gathered round the catwalk to see kimono-clad models walk a bit, smile enigmatically, stare into middle distance and walk off. I didn't know how to react - do I smile politely at them? Should our eyes make contact? I just found the whole experience rather strange (plus fellow Doshisha student Josh was convinced one of them was really a guy).

This is the Godzilla statue outside the local entertainment emporium. Its such a strange, brilliant shop. I've only bought a YMO CD off them, which I had to quickly return (this being Japan, it was a Super Audio CD, only compatible with special Sony players, but, of course, this being Japan, where customer service is top priority, I got a full refund), but it is purchase haven. CDs, DVDs, comics, capsule toys and a vast library of console games from all makes and eras (the Super Famicom corridor is something to behold), and all at competitive prices. But past the card games section, it reveals a further section, with clothes, arcade machines, imported action figures, and guns and ammunition (well, the BB variety). It's certainly worth a trip for anyone around Mukaijima way.

The front gate of Doshisha always has big painted boards advertising upcoming events which always catch the eye, none more so than 21th Century F.B.I., concerning films about everyone's favourite alien-chasing bureau. Someone could make a fortune proof-reading English in Japan, but it would make it all less fun, wouldn't it?

The Shijo covered arcades are weirdness central. What better way to demonstrate than Colonel Sanders outside the KFC (or just 'Kentucky' as it's predominantly known in Japan), dressed in samurai attire.

Or how about Mr. Giraffe Man, advertising the nearby Cybex internet den? We first saw the giraffe outside without a man inside, just resting by the building. It was only some weeks later that we realised it was a costume, and the giraffe could go walk about. I love how his little legs don't really fit the rest of the character.

Unfortunately, this photo isn't so clear, but it is a lit up sign for a very scary looking hair-dresser. In tight white suit and pink-orange hair, he looks like he was kicked out of the Scissor Sisters for being too camp. Would you let this man near your head? The sign does attract attention, but everyone who passes just points and laughs, so I don't know how he keeps in business. I assume it's all a front for some seedier operation, but I'm never going up those stairs for a look.

And finally, a pic of me in an electronics shop, playing Everybody's Tennis on PS2 through some telly-specs, which were glitchy, not especially comfortable and tricky to view the entire screen with. Another case of technology before technique, but it makes me look like a member of Polysics, so I enjoyed it anyway.

In other news, I'm referenced on the Adam and Joe Xfm Podcasts! Download episodes 4 and 5, and while my voice isn't featured, I get namechecked at the end of the former and start of the latter. I had phoned into Crap Commentary Corner, where they play an excerpt from a DVD commentary and you have to name the film and people speaking. As it was Resident Evil, I knew immediately, phoned in and won. Then I had an in-depth conversation with Joe about zombies and Resident Evil 4 at which point he said "Let's meet tonight at the Virgin Megastore Piccadilly Circus". Later on in the show, they joked about meeting up with me later and I thought I'd text to see if they were serious. No reply, but me and Pete went along anyway as I wanted to buy a few CDs. No show, but no real disappointment.

The following week I think I went back to Somerset, but listening to the subsequent podcast a year later, it turns out that wasn't the end of it. In podcast 5, Joe says that he feels bad he didn't meet up with me. Apparently, not only did he get my following text, but other listeners texted in to ask if we had met up! He then asks "Rory, if you're listening, please call in" - but that week I wasn't listening...oh, what could have been! Never mind - at least I am forever enshrined on the podcasts...and I will be sure to make reference to it next time I enter a competition. That's if the show is on when I'm back in London. Anyway, be sure to check out podcasts 4 and 5, but it's worth listening to them all, as they are funny shows indeed (especially Joe's diatribe on R. Kelly's In The Closet single soap opera).

More Things Keep Happening

2006-10-30T07:54:00.000Z

Friday 20th - Sunday 22nd October

As promised, here's last weekend's adventures. It's super-long, but at least there're pictures to break up the brain-numbing waffle elsewhere...

Tokyo Bound

Today, I was missing lessons to head to Tokyo for a two-day trip. I caught the 7:46 Nozomi Shinkansen from Kyoto station to arrive at Shinagawa station in Eastern Tokyo just after 10am. On the way, I did a little bit of Japanese practice, but as my folder was missing after lessons the previous day, I had to make do with SOAS materials. While I slept for most of the journey, I did get to see the vast silohuette of Mt. Fuji from my window, surrounded by fog, looking far larger than I remembered it being.

Foundation Meeting

I travelled to Roppongi to the 33rd floor of the Ark Mori building to visit the Heiwa Nakajima Foundation, who were providing my scholarship for my study in Japan. My ears popped in the lift and the view from their window was filled with fog, but the nearby Tokyo Tower was in plain sight. Another scholarship student (a girl from Vietnam studying in Tokyo) was also present, and we sat at the table at the end of the office as I was presented with a folder filled with facts and information, as well as a booklet on the Foundation's founder and a dictionary for correct kanji use.

The office then gathered together (about eight employees total) for a sushi bento lunch which I happily munched through, but, try as hard as I might, I really couldn't finish it all. While we spoke in Japanese, they were all very attuned to keeping the questions as easy to answer as possible, and were very interested in my thoughts on Japan, my study and interests. I also brought along a few photos from Somerset and East Anglia, which helped no end as a focal discussion point and a visual aid for talking about my family and where I live. I had my photo taken a few times, and they also showed me photos of Tanaka-sensei visiting the office, and a Heiwa Nakajima representative visiting other members of the SOAS Japanese faculty in London. They were all very friendly and helpful (even offering to help track down my childhood friend Kitaro) and were extremely appreciative of my British prezzies of Duchy Original choccie biccies and a National Trust calendar. I had been a little nervous about meeting them and hoping I'd live up to their expectations, but they were all supportive and enthusiastic, leaving me feeling suitably buoyant.

Pete's 21st Birthday Party

Last time I had seen Pete, we were shaking hands at Green Park London Underground saying, "Next time we meet, we'll be in Japan". Jump forward a month or so later, and we're outside Waseda Underground meeting again. Bizarre, but cool. I get a brief tour of one of Waseda's campuses, and then I to visit Pete's space prison quarters which aren't quite as oppresive as I had envisaged, but then I guess I didn't encounter any of the 'wardens' (or forced to fight to death on a spiky turntable platform a la Flash Gordon). We meet with Hanako for coffee (hot chocolate for me, thank you) and soon we're ready to go out. Now that Pete's a man of 21 years, my present is a Nishijin textiles tie; perfect for job interviews for management positions in Japanese zaibatsu.

We all head out for an all you can drink session in Shinjuku and I'm reunited with most of the SOAS Waseda alumni, plus John Dykes, Esq. currently mixing it up in Tokyo Gaidai. I also meet a couple of Edinburgh University Waseda posse, and we exchange information about the Edinburgh University Doshisha students I've come to know - it's a small world after all. We all squeeze into three tables of space, but most of the screaming, chanting and drinking games come from the central table, buoyed on by the organisers, two mad Japanese girls. I decide to spend my time drifting from table to table, before settling down with Dykes and Rory Chu, topping up each other's beers while catching up, telling tales and making plans for the year ahead. When the evening comes to an end, I am muchly sloshed, but lucid. While the majority our heading karaoke-wards, I decide that if I'm going to make it to the hostel I have booked into in time, I should make tracks. I bid the partygoers adieu and take the train across town to Minowa.

Night at the Hostel

The train journey to the hostel is about 25 minutes, during which I get a little emotional, having just said goodybe en masse to many SOAS amigos and then to receive an elated post-birthday email on my mobile phone from Hamish. It could be a side-effect from all the alcohol though, another one of which appears to be increased Japanese speaking ability. I successfully asked the man at the train platform where the correct exit for the hostel was and once I arrived I had a conversation for over half-an-hour with the lady at reception. We talked about universities, binge drinking culture, the North Korea crisis and Japanese history - in particular, she said I should walk down the block to look at the whore-houses...she was emphasising how this area had been the the Edo pleasure quarters, the floating world, and how a map of Tokyo with the circle line and the Chou line drawn through it resembled the Yin-Yang symbol, with the aristocratic area and the pink district in direct contrast of each other. Not sure I quite bought it, but interesting nonetheless. It brought back a lot of memories sleeping hostel style at the Tokyo International Hostel from my pre-university trips. Chris had recommended the place to me, and at 2000 yen a night in a 10-backpacker dorm, it weren't bad at all. Comfy beds, clean washing facilities, good chummy atmosphere. Of course, noise from fellow travellers late night and early morning, but those are the breaks. While my Japanese certainly impressed the members of staff (the morning receptionist couldn't believe I had written the Japanese for mobile phone myself - as even native speakers forget how to), I kept schtum about my credentials amongst the other guests...didn't want to create a scene.

Ueno Park

With the morning free, and having to change trains there anyway, I decided to take a stroll around Ueno Park. I had been there before, but mainly just to visit the Tokyo National Museum (one of many museums that are situated there), so I took the opportunity to stroll around the grounds. I visited the statue of Saigo Takamori, samurai and dog-handler; Kiyomizu-Kannon-do, a temple modelled on Kiyomizu-dera which I had visited the previous weekend; the Gojo fox shrine, atmospherically filled with ominous cawing crows; a big pond with paddle boats...I took some pics, but haven't uploaded them yet as they're not very good or interesting. Also took a quick trip to the big toy shop near the station, but there was little that took my fancy.

Meeting Ian

I met Ian for Lunch in Mejiro where we had a tasty pasta set lunch and talked at length about Japan and the pros and cons of the Japanese experience. It seemed that even now my fresh observations of food, finance and frivolity here clicked with Ian instantly, and he gave me lots of little pieces of advice for surviving life in Japan. It was a very enjoyable meeting and he was over the moon with my gift of Gentelemen's Relish. Hopefully, he'll be able to come to Kyoto at some point, but if not, I will return to Tokyo in a few months time.

Mikael's in Town

While in Tokyo, I got a message that Mikael was in Kyoto this weekend for the big festivals. Once I had got off the Shinkansen, we endeavoured to meet up but meeting with Baptiste was a mission unto itself, involving much running around, exasperation and telecommunication - if it wasn't for the fact my phone died, it would have been just like 24. After 30 minutes, we finally met up and kept the anger to a minimum for the sake of everyone. Tal and her Gaidai chums were having all you can eat pizza at Shakey's (yes, Shakey's) in Shijo, but by the time we got there, they'd already sodded off. But that didn't stop myself, Baptiste, Mikael and his Nagoya buddy fitting in half-an-hour of pizza and assorted junk for ourselves. We then decided to decamp to a karaoke box for an hour of soul-filled singing and called it a night.

Jidai Matsuri

The Jidai Matsuri is one of Kyoto's big three...and we missed it. Baptiste and I miscalculated when the festival was going to end, and turned up to find everyone leaving and packing up. Bum. However, we still managed to savour a bit of post-festival atmosphere, and visited the Heian Jingu shrine where it climaxes (there was still a bit of pomp and circumstance going on behind closed doors). Ah well, there're two other big Kyoto festivals in the summer we'll make certain not to miss. Besides, our day of festivity had only just begun.

Riverside Music

While we waited to meet with friends to head to Kurama (see below), we decided to have some drinks and snacks in Sanjo by the Kamo river, a popular meeting place and general hanging out area. A mini-concert was underway, with a big Japanese flag with 'Under the Bridge 55' written on it waving above the amps. The acts were just a bunch of students a mix of open-air music spanning various musical genres. Most interesting was a screeching punk act who represented the first signs of student political activity I had witnessed in Japan. Through the mad synth, kicking microphone stands, river running and megaphone shouting, their message was 'Sayonara Americans, Konnichiwa Japanese!' and their lyrics included 'Showa! America! Showa! America!' - alluding to the feeling that Japan today was designed by the Americans for American purposes (which is kinda sorta true to an extent). It was too dark to get any footage of them on my phone, so instead, here's the act before them, a little male singer, strumming away to his own version of The Monkees' Daydream Believer - with a, shall we say, unique singing voice:

Kurama-no-Hi Matsuri

My final flutter of fun was a trip into Kurama, deep within the mountains of northern Kyoto, for the annual festival of fire. The trains were packed heading there, so much so, we walked to the next station along to avoid the queues at the main change point. We thought we weren't going to see anything when we got there (Tal had already given up, and Mikael, who was already there, was not sure exactly what was going on). Hundreds had descended upon the little town to visit the shrine where the festival climaxes, but we decided to head in the opposite direction, which turned out to be a good idea. Every house had a little fire outside, and the scent of smoke filled the air - it was like a premature Guy Fawkes night.

Then from the end of the road, a procession of torch-bearers appeared, chanting as they walked up the hill towards the temple. We got a good vantage point outside a smaller temple where they were luckily to make a brief stop before heading on. Behind the initial procession, loinclothed men carried massive burning torches across their backs, as others urged them on and kept the flames alive. They were followed up by further torch-bearers and taiko-drumming to keep them going. Once they got to the temple next to our position, they raised the massive torches and aligned them beside each other. After a few minutes, they again rested them on their backs and continued the slow climb onwards. It was a magical and satsifying experience, complete with atmosphere and wonder. Having had our fill of flame, we walked to the next station along. Its a beautiful area at night, looking deep into the surrounding forests and marvelling at the stars above. As there's only one train track, the ride back was absolutely packed, but everyone was so happy to have seen the festival that it was all good fun. Parn, Baptiste, Mikael and myself then headed to Imadegawa for a late-night Mos Burger and so another action-packed weekend came to a close...

Things Keep Happening

2006-10-25T15:27:00.000+01:00

Things do indeed. And in order to keep up with my adventures, I'm going to have to do a big old splurge of recent events from the past couple of weeks. I'll do last weekend in the coming week and the weekend before that now...if that makes any sense.

Friday 13th October - Sunday 15th October

Karaoke Marathon - after having spent all afternoon with my newly installed internet, I was invited to join various Mukaijima residents (studying at Doshisha and beyond) for a spot of karaoke at the local Shidax centre, just a brief walk from halls. Upon entry, the faux-grandeur was overwhelming, with 'gold', 'marble' and a winding staircase in the lobby. We booked a room with the decor of a Spanish restaurant and so began the singing session. Bowie, Beastie Boys, Blur and Beck were my artists of choice (though I did dabble in a bit of Polysics and YMO for Nihongo's sake), but Tarvi and Ritso (the Finnish Jay and Silent Bob in appearance, but anything but in reality) kept things varied with spirited anime themes and angry rock anthems respectively. We soon turned off the score system that would cause cartoon cracks to appear on the screen for woeful renditions (it seems it wanted Anarchy in the UK to be sung by a Celine Dion-alike), and let rip. As the tunes went on and the 'all you can drink' booze flowed, members of our party called it a night, until it was just me, Tarvi and Ritso. At 4.45am. Having started at 9.45pm. Yes, I made up for my lack of recent karaoke by doing it for seven hours straight. Good stuff.
Thai Dinner - Having finished watching Mr. and Mrs. Smith as part of Mukaijima Gakusei Centre 'Movie Night', we went for a big Thai meal at the restaurant handily located just next to Doshisha's Imadegawa campus, as Parn's mum was in town. As Thai food barely extended beyond fishcakes and red/green curry, it was an eye-opening and eye-watering experience. Some items were super-spicy for my tastebuds, but it was mostly delicious and a very enjoyable evening all round. Araoi! (Apologies to Thai people everywhere for my attempt at writing "Delicious" in your native tongue).
Class 5A Daytrip - our appointed class figurehead, Chan from Korea, decided to organise a little outing on a sunny Sunday for those class members who could make it. Little did we realise just how in-depth and interesting it would be. And how many free samples we'd nibble on. We went around Sanjo and Shijo, down familiar streets and the not so familiar, before arriving at an anonymous block of flats. Little did we know lunch was to be a free meal at a Korean Protestant chapel! With the greatest hospitality, we had big bowls of spicy vegetable and rice soup (though I passed on the kimchee) and engaged in conversation with the regulars. This was followed by a trip down Nishiki Food Market for donuts and tofu ice-cream, before a walk through Gion, through Yasaka Shrine, up to Kiyomizu-dera, via many local sweet stores, offering countless samples (accompanied by scary little Geisha bots, that nodded a little like the wind-up razor-toothed dolls from Barbarella).
I had visited Kiyomizu on my previous trip with Harry, but it was lovely to go again, and I did few things I didn't do last time. For instance, I attempted to walk with my eyes closed from one love stone to another at Jishu-jinja, but missed my goal, therefore dooming my relationships forever...or something. Plus, I drank from the Otowa-no-taki waterfall, which is said to have therapeutic qualities and improve school results (which I guess compensates for buggering up my love life). A return visit at night in the autumn is a must. It wasn't all good though - I left my sunglasses somewhere up the hill (a habit which is continuing rather worringly, having left my file in class, and then leaving a recently purchased storage folder at the supermarket). And an octopus ball covered in horrible Japanese mayonnaise (to my mind, the foullest condiment known to man) left a taste in my mouth that lasted a day. I'm similarly afflicted as I type. Last night, I was all set to cook some bacon with my new frying pan, but what I thought was cooking oil turned out...well...not to be. I decided I'd cook it anyway, but the bacon just burnt horribly. Desperate for a bacon butty, I chowed down on it anyway, and while I liked it at the time, I now have a horrible burnt metallic taste in my mouth over 24 hours later, like I've swigged battery acid and am turning into some kind of ManTank a la Testuo II
.

Back on topic, I took photos using Chan's camera, but have yet to receive them back, but once I do, I will stick them up on my brand new Flickr account! For now, I will leave you with a couple of treats for making it this far. First, my mad quote of the week (which actually comes from several weeks ago). I got a message from the Gakusei Centre office informing me that my bank manager wanted to seak to me regarding a bank transfer from my UK account:

...the manager has a duty to clarify what are you going to use the money for, probably to prevent an illegal trade or money supply to a terrorist. (But can you imagine a terrorist saying "Yah, I' m going to buy a nice launcher with this money." ???) Anyway, please contact...

And instead of pics, here're two short little mobile phone videos of Japanese technology in action. First, the aforementioned Geisha Bot:

And, having previously seen animatronic road worker signalmen in Tokyo two years ago, here's the next generation - little digital men on orange screens waving a flag. What's great is how it's not a cartoon of a man, but an actual image of a road worker scanned in. Unnecessary but genius:

The Church of Paragraph Writing

2006-10-19T14:48:00.000+01:00

It is about time I actually wrote a bit about the very reason I came to Japan in the first place: to be educated at Doshisha University of course. I've just finished my third week of lessons, so I have a pretty fair idea of how the term is going to pan out from hereonin.

We have 3 hours of Japanese language classes, divided into 2 90 minute sessions, Monday to Friday from 9am. And with the journey from Mukaijima taking around 50 minutes total (with good connections), that means it's an early start every weekday and a lot of commuting time to kill. Luckily, Baptiste is my regular travel buddy, so our strange conversations and earphones of music get us feeling as genki as we can possibly be, given the circumstances. These language lessons are split between those that cover a general set text filled with kanji, grammar and vocabulary for the week ahead and classes that deal with particular aspects of Nihongo (listening, speaking, reading, etc.). Then, after lunch, we have additional courses we can pick and choose.

On Mondays, there's Japanese Life and Culture 1, which consists of visits, trips and hands-on experiences - so it's my 'fun-time' class; so far, we've been to a traditional sweets museum and shop, a textiles centre, on which I will write more about later, and a kimono-trying on session. I'm particularly looking forward to the 'Incense Listening' class in a month or so...whatever it entails. Wednesdays include my additional Japanese language seminar, which is fast-paced and tricky, but just the kind of thing I should be studying, and Ancient Japanese history, while Thursday features Japanese Law and Politics - which was billed as being taught in English, but has ended up with us flitting between Japanese and English throughout each sentence. Tuesday and Friday afternoons are my free afternoons, but I've yet to really cash in on these opportunities with the amount of homework and various bits and bobs I have to get done.

Ah, the homework. It all seems quick and simple, but there's so much to keep in my mind, I rarely manage to do everything that was needed for the day ahead, but have probably finished another exercise not due for a week. But I'm getting there...one day at a time.

The teaching style is mostly very much like SOAS, though there are certain differences. For a start, while in one week last year in London, we would have only 4 different tutors in the Japanese classes, here we have double that, as there's a mix of full-time and part-time staff. It makes you realise just how hard Tanaka-sensei, Kashiwagi-sensei, et al work, with the same hours and amount of teaching, across different classes and year groups. Another change is we have male Japanese teachers, who turn out to be my favourites.

Matsumoto-sensei would be a legend in the making, if it wasn't for the fact that he seemed to already achieve legendary status based on word-of-mouth via my predecessors at Doshisha. Every class he teaches is just filled with such energy with a healthy dash of self-deprecating humour that you can't help but join in. Now that our class has gotten chummy with each other, it makes for some very entertaining off-tangent discussions, all in an atmosphere where you don't feel like a fool if you make a mistake. Plus, he never fails to give thorough explanations for trickier language aspects, peppered with pitch-perfect textbook-quality examples. I consider myself very lucky to have 3 lessons with him a week. The only other regular male teaching staff member in the Japanese language department is Manita-sensei, who has a rather bizarre sense of humour which others find a little disconcerting, but he always cracks me up, so I can't complain.

Perhaps the most unsual class so far has been a writing comprehension class which has introduced me to The Church of Paragraph Writing, which, via the aid of post-it notes, is designed to optimise one's essay/notice construction to make clear and precise sentences in the best structure possible. The three tenents of Paragraph Writing remind me of the Hardeep Singh Kohli documentary on Scientology (and the opening verse to Queen's It's A Kind of Magic):

One word, one meaning
One sentence, one point,
One paragraph, one topic

I've yet to fully understand what it all really means, but I am intruiged to see how it all plays out. Similarly, the speaking class is built on repetition, repetition, repetition. In particular, the 'Shadowing' exercise, in which we all recite scripted conversation together, turns into a babbling mess, albeit an entertaining one. Perhaps we can all do it to music over the coming weeks; every school and kindergarten I pass on the way to Mukaijima station - and there are a fair few - seems to have singing, music and learning off by heart pouring out every day, so this seems like a university extension of such a teaching method.

As for the actual classrooms, if you've seen Battle Royale, you have a pretty good idea already - chunky sliding doors, raised platform at the front with stand and microphone, big green chalkboard. A green little National/Panasonic is plugged into the wall beside the chalkboard and turns out to be a hoover box for chalkboard wipers, which reveals why the board's are always so immaculate after a day's scribbling. However, my biggest bugbear are the desks. The majority of them have the ability to fold out in front, but that means there is zero legroom and I frequently bash my shins against the folded desk half - leading to frequent cussing and my football shinjury taking even longer to heal (scab gone, still pink and tender). I don't know how anyone can cope with such stunted seating space. And furthermore, the little cubby holes under the desktop cause further knee bashing and make forgetting your work folder even easier (as I did today...very annoying).

So, at the mo, its a bit of a mixed bag, and the schedule is really taking its toll on my waking life, but, in the words of Mr. Bedingfield, I gotta get thru this...

And on a completely unrelated note, in case you hadn't take note, I note that two teaser trailers for Hot Fuzz are now available to view in all their hilarious glory here and here. The self-references! Wells locations! Souljacker Part I by Eels! How's that for a slice of fried gold?

Best Buys...So Far II

2006-10-16T14:55:00.000+01:00

Wahey! I've finally got internet access in my room now, so this blog is coming to you live as opposed to typed up previously and uploaded via university computers! This is a quick follow-up to Best Buys I - just to cover a few cool items I purchased, as well as telling you how fantabulous my mobile phone is.

HOUSEHOLD GOODS

You will have previously seen cameos of my cool little glasses from the 100 yen shop. For no particular reason, they have AoB written on them, with a coloured circle and a character - like a piece of punctuation. I've got an exclamation mark with an orange circle, a plus sign in a red circle, Baptiste has one with a percentage sign in a blue circle, and there's also one with a yellow circle with an @ sign. They just look...kinda neat, s'all.

I also got a mug as part of the British Bistro Bear range, with the following enscription, which is also my mad phrase of the week:

Bistro bear is the best gentleman of a British tradition. He is cleverly refined, is very stylish and kind. Ladies enjoy conversation with him.

If this is what Japanese kitchenware manufacturers have been saying about 'gentleman of a British tradition', I'm going to disappoint many resident mug enthusiasts.

As for other goods, very little exciting; I still need to get a frying pan to expand my meal options a little more, and a household plant would complete my room (as would a couple of posters to brighten up the rather drab walls - household department store Loft currently has these great Halloween posters dotted around, but I don't think they're for sale - I might try and ask nicely after October).

MOBILE PHONE

Now I'm not exactly technologically-savvy or up-to-date on new mobile phones, but the features on my Sanyo A5514SA blew me away. And what's more - it was free! Of course, it's all part of a special student contract and as it was the only English-language mobile offered by AU (the service provider), so everyone has the same model - but who cares?

Features include:

Camera - vary picture size and quality from the little pics I've already shown here to some pretty impressive quality big snaps, with all sorts of special digital camera effects you'd never expect a mobile could achieve. Plus up to 3 mins of video footage.
GPS navigator and map system for when you are really lost.
Radio channels - but not really any worth listening to.
Internet access - perfect for quick headlines, weather, info searches. Also can download pics, music and episodes of Oh! Mikey.
E-mail - without SMS texting, there's C-Mail (for phone-to-phone messages) and E-Mail for between phones and between computers.
Infra-red - for uploading pics and videos to computers, exchanging address book info.
Japanese - English / English - Japanese dictionary - by no means comprehensive, but useful for on-the-go translation.
Photo-mixer - make bizarre little movie shorts with photos you've taken.
Optical Recognition - this is amazing - you can use the camera to recognise kanji written on signs, packets, etc., and it will translate it for you! Plus it can recognise addresses, emails, notes, and such as well. Not perfect, but fun.
Plus...calculator, alarm, remote control, calendar, journal, memo pad, pocket money log, and more!

It feels like such a special treat! A shiny new phone! And if this is what they offer to dumb foreigners like me, what do the top-of-the-range ones offer? It seems the most popular model at the mo is Docomo's Foma SH903i and other similar models, which seem to be a stylistic step backwards, looking chunky, blocky, thick and heavy. But I bet they're stocked to the gills with 3D holograms, virtual future predictive capabilities and every book ever written. Oh, and a little hole to put your 'strappers' (or 'danglies').

Best Buys...So Far

2006-10-10T03:52:00.000+01:00

Another double dollop of blogs, you lucky people!

We’ve dwelled too long on the negative purchases, so let me tell you about some of the choice products I have bought recently. With all of these things, there are equivalents in the UK, but in Japan, it’s the little differences that…um, make…the difference. The bread’s a little sweeter, the Coco Pops (or Coco-kun’s Choco Kurisupiisu) more chocolatey – but my market research has turned up some interesting results…

FOOD

Japan loves snacks – FACT. Aisles and aisles devoted to all kinds of snack foods, crisps, sweets, nuts, dried fruits, chocolates, biscuits. And then all the strange region-specific bite-size nibbles that I haven’t explored in full yet for fear of munching on octopus beak when I was expecting cashew nut.

Choccie biccies are the order of the day, my favourite being Graham Biscuit, “Chocolate Cream Sand Biscuit”, which I believe is supposed to be more like Golden Grahams than Graham le Saux and more like Sandwich than Weston-Super-Mare Sand (though the Digestive-esque quality of said biscuit lends it a gritty texture akin to that of beach dust). At first, I wondered why each biscuit was individually wrapped in plastic wrapping-conscious Japan (a treatise on Kyoto’s recycling system coming soon), but it perfectly rations them out, unlike the tube of mini choc-chip cookies I ate in one go while lying on my bed after a long tiring day.

Crisps are more of a mixed bag, with unusual flavours turning up some nice surprises (Baptiste’s curry flavoured maize puffs were addictive) and more traditional flavours disappointing (Chip Star’s lightly salted tube were somewhat flat and uninspiring). Jagareto (I think), the crisps with the ad as seen on Adam and Joe Go Tokyo, are pretty tasty, but my favourite so far has been a big bag of Mexican Chilli Tacos.

Ice cream, on the other hand, often scores highly. I’ve had a choc-chip ice cream crepe (crepe in general are very popular in Japan, though they fill them with anything – natto crepe anyone?), ice-cream filled waffle, crushed cola ice (which caused minor gum damage trying to extract from the bottle), some delicious fruit ice creams with bits of pineapple in, and Giant, a brand of ice cream cone not too dissimilar to Cornettos, but at only 80 yen a go (about 40p), they always do the trick.

As for actual meals, there’re all the various kinds of quick and easy noodles (but they pretty much all have the same flavour). Boil in the bag curries aren’t too bad with some microwaved rice (it seems that there’s a curry endorsed by pretty much every kids TV character – yes, even Thomas the Tank Engine), but pasta remains the top student dish. However, I recently prepared a meal of mini hamburgers, chips and mixed veg. The hamburgers were each about the size of my thumb, and came in a little plastic dish for being heated up in the microwave. Though the package advertised 100% beef, I think that really meant that the beef was 100% beef and not, for instance, beef-flavoured tofu, as there was some other filler ingredient of which I couldn’t quite ascertain its origin, but they were fine in a late-night burger van way. The chips were also microwaveable, in a little red box. They stuck together and were a bit greasy, but actually tasted like less salty McDonald’s fries, but like the small ones at the bottom of the carton. The veg was Jolly Green Giant-branded, though a little flavourless – but I was just happy to have some actual vegetables.

DRINK

Ion supply drink Pocari Sweat is a beverage “that smoothly supplies the lost water and electrolytes during perspiration” and is a somewhat confusing creation that is instantly refreshing but tastes a bit like an anonymous vegetable. It served me well on my previous travels, and continues to do now – though the fact that it is made by Otsuka Pharmaceuticals, they of Calorie Mate infamy, makes me a little wary. Calpis has a comparable taste, though it is distinctly white in colour. Plus, in a country where the Nintendo Wii doesn’t produce a snigger, having the word ‘piss’ (or ‘sweat’ for that matter) in the name of a beverage is not considered odd.

Also returning from my previous Japan adventure is Lemon Water, similarly refreshing, but tastes good even after losing its chill carrying it around in your backpack all day temple-hopping. And good old Qoo, though the white grape flavour I love has only recently become readily available in nearby shops – and I’m not completely sure it is the same taste as the drink I’ve had in McDonald’s.

Bubble Man and Bubble Man II are space-age bubblegum flavour soft drinks and can therefore only be consumed by 7 year olds at the risk of descending into a sugar-induced twitch. Suntory’s C.C. Lemon claims to have 210 lemons’ worth of Vitamin C in every 1.5 litre bottle, though every lemon-based beverage makes similar claims (probably because fresh fruit and vegetables are so pricey). Fanta R18 is another Red Bull style sugary fizzy caffeine gurana enamel-remover, almost fluorescent yellow in colour – but I had to buy a bottle if only because R18 is the certificate the BBFC classifies porno.

Tea and coffee drinks, both hot and cold, can be found everywhere, with vending machines on every corner, advertised by Meg Ryan and Tommy Lee Jones. As booze goes, Asahi’s the obvious (and nicest I think) choice of beer; can’t say I’m a fan of Kirin. Haven’t gone down the sake root just yet – beer’s expensive enough as it is.

That’s it for food and drink for now. Next time – household goods, plus my mobile phone!

The Following Takes Place Between Taste and Nutrition

2006-10-10T03:42:00.000+01:00

If there is one food I had been itching to try while in Japan, it would have to be Calorie Mate. Pete had previously shown me a crazy sketch on iFilm from Fuji TV’s One Night, one of Japan’s biggest live comedy shows, involving Carlos Bernard reprising his role of Tony Almeida and doing very bizarre things.

Well, as we had a look for more Japanese 24 videos, we came across a series of advertisements for Calorie Mate featuring Kiefer Sutherland as Jack Bauer on some anti-terrorist mission in Tokyo running around the subway, involved in high-speed chases and riding in helicopters. And in all this, he snacks on Calorie Mate, which appeared to be some kind of tasty energy snack.

Japan is currently in the grip of 24 fever. The fifth series is being released incrementally on DVD, so there are banners and posters in every DVD store (and it means I get to see the final episodes at last – I think I’ve already mentioned this), there’s a 24 magazine which comes with a couple of episodes of the first series every week or two, and then there’s big Calorie Mate ads, such as this one in Shijo underground.

Mmm…Situation Free…whatever that means. And I assume the rather camp Japanese gentleman next to him is from a TV ad I have yet to see. So I decide to go out and buy some Calorie Mate for myself. And, inspired by the excellent (and stomach-churning) Steve, Don’t Eat It, it’s time for the first edition of Steele, Don’t Eat It!

Now, we all know Jack Bauer never eats, sleeps, or makes toilet, so surely Calorie Mate must be some kind of wonder food, divine ambrosia or heaven-sent mana if it breaks the habit of a man who frequently saves the world on an empty stomach? The packaging doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence, being in an anonymous yellow box, heavy on (English) text. What’s more, there’s a problem of which flavour to choose. But when a particular foodstuff as such varied taste options as Chocolate, Cheese and ‘Freshness’, I start to worry about what the Calorie Mate ‘Block’ might entail, so I go for the safe option of Chocolate – they can’t screw up chocolate, right?

Reading the blurb on the box suggests it’s much like any energy bar:

“CALORIE MATE BLOCK is a nutritionally balanced source of the energy needed for daily activities. CALORIE MATE BLOCK is naturally suited for people on-the-go who need an easy source of energy and nutrition – at breakfast, work, sports, study, or any busy time.”

Fair enough, though the spiel and the classification of ‘Balanced nutrition food (solid type)’ doesn’t suggest that taste factors into the equation in any regard. The fact that it’s produced by Otsuka Pharmaceutical Co., Ltd. and not, say, Mr. Chef’s Yummy Scrummy Treats Kitchen, only adds to my trepidations. Ingredients include 40g of sugar per 80g serving, edible vegetable fats (better than inedible ones I believe), almond, nonfat milk and soybean protein. Oh, and chocolate and cocoa powder, which is reassuring (do the other flavours have cheese and ‘freshness’ powder then?).

Opening the box reveals two sachets with two fingers each. Two dirty brown stubby powdery fingers, like dried turds doing their best Bourbon biscuit impression. I decide the best way to taste it is to dress up like Jack Bauer on the billboard ad, so I put on my jacket, stick in an earphone and look angry, frustrated, concerned and desperate.

And then I take my first bite. Which coincidentally also turns out to be my last. Unlike Steve, Don’t Eat It, I’ll give you a picture of my immediate reaction (again using imageshack as it seems Blogger doesn't like me using pictures anymore). Suffice to say, I’d like to see Jack Bauer pull this face in the commercials...

It reminded me of the brownies Harry made years ago in food tech, when he forgot to add milk to the mixture. It was so dry, chalky and crumbly, like an old biscuit that had gone soft. And the yummy chocolate taste I had been expecting was conspicuous in its absence. I tried to finish one mouthful, but resorted to spitting it into my basin – the half-chewed mess would make good artificial dog mash for film and television. Jack Bauer is clearly a harder man than I for being able to stomach such a foul creation. Kudos, sir, kudos.

The bottom of the pack reads:

“Caution: To insure freshness, please eat as soon as possible after opening the package.”

Don’t make me laugh...Calorie Mate – you are no friend of mine.

Ball Ball Ball Footie Footie Footie

2006-10-06T06:23:00.000+01:00

aka Doing a Lineker

My student volunteer Kenta had invited me to play a football match with him when we first met and game-day arrived. After meeting at Kyoto station, we took the trip on the JR line to Osaka, then on to Umeda to meet a few of his friends, before our final stop at Totsuyou. No idea where the hell it was, so don’t ask me to point it out to you on a map.

The pitch isn’t your typical grass playing field, but is actually a floodlit baseball ground with a goal at both ends and some basic football markings painted into the sand. As a result, the sand is somewhat slippery to play on in my trainers and there’s a big mound where the pitcher would be which gets tripped over a couple of times during play (but at least you get an advantage if you stand on it when going for a header).

We get changed into our assorted kits outdoors on a bench by the pitch and I don the clothes I hastily purchased the day before at the local sports goods emporium. Our team is a ragtag bunch of friends, acquaintances, locals and me. In particular, I get on well with Kenta’s pal, nicknamed Uza, who is quite the character. Dressed in hip-hop gangsta garb, I wonder if ‘Uza’ is actually short for ‘Yakuza’. Throughout the evening, he takes off his shirt, puts on a pair of boxing gloves, assumes a fighting pose, and then wobbles his knees in cowardice. He had just got back from the Philippines and showed me a few of his pics – including the Filipino girl he bedded, lying completely starkers (of course, I could see everything). He also has a copy of Playboy with him and later promises to take me to a brothel (at least, I believe that’s what he was getting at).

Our opponents are far more professional. Harder, better, faster, stronger. Hell, they even have their own kit – we just slip on some orange vests they brought along! They got here before us and brought their girlfriends along to watch them trounce us poor saps. As we wait for the rest of our team to arrive, we practice a bit and I’m not as bad as I thought I’d be. It seems the rest of my team are of a similar ability – bad, but by no means useless. At least we all know the ball has to get into the opponent’s goal and to do so it needs to be kicked.

The officials line the pitch; it’s time to talk tactics. No-one’s particularly forthcoming picking their positions, except Kenta going up front. I choose to play right mid-field, but it turns out I chose poorly; five minutes of running back and forth and I’m already knackered. I can’t ever remember being this tired at school! Regardless, when the ball does come my way, I do okay. Make a few good passes, keep control of the ball, with only a few slip-ups (including one literal slip-up, in which I tumbled backwards off the pitch, grazing my knee). However, once the opposing team get the ball, wrestling it off them is nigh-on impossible, as I fail to intercept every pass they make or time my tackles. Unfortunately, the ball keeps being played on the left – our opponent’s right, so they have little difficulty picking it up, making long passes and hitting the back of the net. A break after 15 minutes and a swig of Lemon Water does little to improve my condition, and after 30 minutes of play the score is 4-0.

We head benchwards while the other team continue to play amongst themselves. I examine my knee, but it’s not as bad as that of one of Kenta’s friends, bleeding away, so I don’t make a fuss. Then suddenly, it’s the second half – I thought that was it! Well, we’re more determined this time, and we create more opportunities and actually have some shots on goal and corners! This half we only let in one more goal, but it is clear that lack of ability, communication and technique are to blame for defeat and a final score of 5-0.

While everyone else smoothes the pitch with big brooms (this being sand, not grass, I didn’t know what was going on at first), I examine my shin injury (or shinjury). I picked it up in the second half, but can’t remember how – I think maybe from a tackle I made. It consists of a separate bruise and cut, which is bleeding profusely. As someone who doesn’t really get into fights nor have dangerous hobbies, such wounds are somewhat alien to me, so I try to mop it up as best I could with a towel, then roll up my sock to cover the damage and avoid running red all over my pantaloons.

Tired and aching, we make our way back to Osaka, and go our separate ways. It takes about two hours total to get back to Mukaijima after some train-hopping. After picking up some food and drink from the nearby convenience mart, I get to my room after 11pm, flop onto my bed, peel back my sock and clean the cut with antiseptic wipes. Over a week later, the scars still show, but are scabbing nicely.

Other than that, I’m ship-shape and Bristol fashion. Well, except for usual ailments and mosquito bites, that are fading away gradually now I have bought and applied Kayumi Bye Bye (though I must remember not after applying the tingly medicine to not rub my eyes immediately after). Plus, I still have these strange lumps in my armpits that won’t go away. The doctor I went to see before I left for Japan just said they were swollen glands under the hair follicles that will soon vanish, but if anything they’ve gotten bigger and increasingly tender. My armpit is looking more and more like Lemmy from Motörhead with every passing day.

And on that delicious thought, I bid you adieu. I will leave you with a quote from a French-style patisserie window nearby the football/baseball ground. Again, it’s not the spelling, but rather the grandiose wording that takes the crêpe…

“A completely new flavour combining in perfect harmony chocolate and custard.”

I’m going now, bye!

Worst Buys...So Far

2006-10-06T06:08:00.000+01:00

One invariably makes some dodgy purchases when arriving in a new country, especially when you only have a partial understanding of the language (you try working out which cleaning product cleans what with only a name and fragrance to go by). However, sometimes the language barrier isn’t to blame. So here’s a quick rundown of them things I regret parting my cash over during the past couple of weeks (Blogger for some reason is being a big smelly uploading pics, so they are via ImageShack and poorly aligned).

APPLES
Finding fresh fruit and veg in Japan isn’t a problem – paying for it is. One apple can set you back around 200 yen (£1); a pack of grapes up to 500 yen. I did it multi-pack style, buying a bag of five giant apples for 400 yen. The thing is, they’re just too big, as if they were compensating for being so pricey. I don’t think I was buying them from the giant greengrocer’s section, but I can barely manage half of one. I’ve still got three left in my fridge a fortnight on. And chopping them up is a pain (see below).

KNIFE
The Daiso is a chain of 100 yen shops in which you can pretty much stock up for life. One such essential purchase was to be a knife for cutting up my brand new apples. I spurn the 100 yen knives on display in favour of a 315 yen model that looks the business. Wooden handle, made in Japan and it’s got kanji…on…the blade! Hell, it’s three times the price of the other knives, it has gotta be good. Wrong, wrong, wrong. No fancy way of saying it – it’s just plain crap. The wooden handle is splinter city and the blade itself struggles through the aforementioned apples – elephantine, they may be, but it has trouble piercing even the fruit’s very skin. And the less said about the carrot peeling fiasco, the better.

PIZZA
Now this might be a problem with my understanding of the inner workings of my toaster/microwave (I bought chips expecting to be able to cook them in some foil as the picture on the packet showed, but then I confirmed it was indeed a microwave, not toaster/oven, which scuppered my fries). But I bung in one of these frozen pizzas for the allotted time using the pizza setting on the device, and out comes a melty-topped burned-bottom pizza-pie for being to sup upon. However, every bite alternates between being ‘quite not bad’ to ‘vomit bread nastiness’. I finish the whole thing, but I wish I’d stuck to my poorly-chopped carrots (see above). I still have 2 remaining, but they’re going to be gathering frost for a while yet.

Coming soon – my Best Buys so far!

Room 1017

2006-10-04T08:43:00.000+01:00

It’s about time I gave you all a tour of my pad during my spell in Japan – no tatami mats and that, but it beats Dinwiddy House (and maybe even Whitfield Street), so pity about the location. That’s not to say Mukaijima doesn’t have its charms, but its proximity to central Kyoto (or lack of) needs no reminding.

Being on the 10th floor (Japanese style that is, as 1F = Ground Floor) offers great views from outside my front door and from my balcony. Mostly buildings and roads, but the wonderful surrounding mountains (with a temple perched at the top of one in the distance) and the vast expanse of sky above can create some dramatic imagery, from pink-orange sunsets streaking across the firmament, to billowing rain-leaden clouds, trickling down the hillside like a frozen avalanche.

My room is not quite as eye-catching, still rather bare-looking as I haven’t found a place that sells posters yet (but then again, nowhere seems to stock Blu Tac or an equivalent adhesive). But as I’m on the corner with only one neighbour, it’s a bit bigger than the average room (well, Baptiste’s at least). And now, thanks to my mobile phone camera, you can take a virtual look around (not as interesting as that may sound).

There’s an entry hall with shoe rack (for shoes), and then the kitchen is on the left. It’s pretty basic stuff (singular hot-plate, sink, glass cupboard to display all your food), but it does the job. Alongside it is my fridge/freezer and toaster/microwave. Yes, it is a bizarre mix and not to be confused with a toaster/oven (lest you use aluminium foil) – but it toasts pretty good toast and heats up plasticated slop, though it doesn’t say its wattage, so guesswork is the chef’s best friend at casa del Rory.

Along the same wall is a table and chair, a couple of bins and then my big bookshelf unit, which holds stacks of books, making my tawdry collection look somewhat embarrassing (even more so when it consists mainly of textbooks and comic books). Still, there’s certainly room for expansion. My laptop resides on my desk, which again has more storage space, with big filing-cabinet style draws.

At the moment, all I’m using for bedding is a sheet and a pillow (purchased), though the futon rental company gave me enough bedding to comfortably sleep three. Plus, there’s even more storage under the bed. And that’s before we get to the massive wardrobe – though the rail isn’t high enough to stop shirts dragging along the shelf. Design flaw or are my clothes too big? You decide.

My balcony has space for hanging up clothes to dry, a dirty brush, anti-crow/suicide netting and the other end of the air-conditioner. In a week or so, I have to pay to use the aircon until April, but I cannot imagine I’d need it during that time, and if it’s sweltering in February, I’ll get a fan. When I asked how they’d know if I was using it during the pay-period, they said they come up to the room and flick a switch to disable it…just a switch, eh?

Finally, my little shower room. It’s compact, but useable, decked out in funky beige with a lavatory (sadly not an electric heated one), basin and a hot and powerful shower/bath. A shame then that there’s a bit of funny smell when the water’s running (just as the water from the kitchen sink tap starts off a lovely yellow – it soon clears up, but it isn’t really drinkable).

Well, that’s about it for the brief tour. Not very exciting, but why not watch it in motion？ Thanks to mobile phone technology, I took two minutes of footage of my room for everyone to see. You’ll have to excuse the quality of footage, nauseating whip-pans and inane commentary, but it’ll give you an idea of my room as if viewed by a short-sighted pocket robot. Enjoy!

Be sure to check out Baptiste's blog as well (link on the right). He has a brand new camera and links to better pics!

For God, for Doshisha, and Native Land!

2006-10-01T03:36:00.000+01:00

Yes, it is indeed another double helping of blogs, but I want to get my initial happenings out of the way as I’m busting with other things to talk about from transportation to funky purchases I’ve made to soccer madness. But Friday 22nd saw my very reason for coming to Japan take centre stage as it was our initial orientation and welcoming ceremony. And ceremonious was certainly the word.

We take our seats in Divinity Hall, in an upstairs chapel replete with stained-glass windows and hymn books, a grand organ and a crown of thorns. I had underestimated the Christian influence of the university’s founder, Joseph Hardy Neesima, which had been maintained since its establishment in 1875. We sing Doshisha anthems (from which the title of this blog comes from) along with a choir and several important officials give us talks on what the university means to all who study there. It’s all extremely po-faced, but our subsequent meetings with the foreign student department are cheerier affairs (especially the head of Japanese teaching, who reveals a penchant for karaoke), even if we do have our placement tests to determine which level we study at.

Unfortunately, the first written test is the kind I abhor – fill in the gaps. It sounds easy, but I’d rather have an essay question, as I just cannot operate my mind in such a fashion; filling in Japanese sentences with one of four options just doesn’t seem right, as I hate being a slave to multiple choice. I hand in my paper despondently and head to the canteen for lunch, which has a large selection of dishes, though it doesn’t ever seem to change.

The afternoon is filled with a lengthy orientation lecture, where we get a ‘goodie-bag’ filled with endless documents to fill in and deadlines to meet. Its an overwhelming package, but at least we now have our student cards, computer ID and password and Doshisha College Song CD featuring anthems, chants and pop songs to inspire us in the morning before classes begin (it is recommended we learn at least the two key songs for special events and that).

It’s then interview time, and after a 2 hour wait in which we get to know our fellow students better, Parn, myself and three others are called in – and it is not what we expected. We are all sat in a line facing what seems to be all the teaching staff (ten of them at least), scrutinising our entry forms and papers. The questions aren’t the self-introduction style we expected, and while I think I do alright to respond to them, there was one about if anyone inspired you to study Japanese, but I got the wrong end of the stick and just went off-topic about my hobbies…which is a pain because I could have easily answered the question if I’d fully understood it. At least they seemed impressed about the textbooks we had studied at SOAS, so I pray they take into account my previous credentials when they make their decision.

Monday morning comes and we head back to Doshisha for our 成績発表 (seiseki happyou – announcement of results, usually screamed at the end of an arcade game). And I’m in group 5A, with Parn and Baptiste and it’s the level I was hoping for, which is a considerable relief. We will repeat a few chapters from our New Approach textbooks at the start, but the course advances from there over the course of the year.

Classes don’t start until Monday 2nd October, but the rest of the week has so far been admin and further procedures. We had a tour of the library on Tuesday, which has a more higgledy-piggledy layout compared to SOAS’, but there’s plenty more on offer, and the corridors turn up some nice treasures (very serene reading and study areas, contrasting group study rooms that look more like interrogation chambers, an AV centre stocked with videos, DVDs, tapes, laserdiscs and TV’s showing BBC World, which is covering the Borat US premiere while we’re looking around). We also have a rather fruitless afternoon, in which Kenta returns to help us with life in Japan, but we’ve pretty much done everything already, and as he studies at the other Kyotanabe campus, not the Imadegawa one, most places are new to him as well. And Wednesday was another medical check-up, solely consisting of yet another chest x-ray…I don’t know why they’re so concerned with a little bit of tuberculosis with the amount of smoking going on.

Well that’s pretty much up-to-date now. I’ve left a few bits and pieces out which I’ll write about later in more general terms. And I’ve just got a new mobile phone which deserves a whole post to itself, but it does mean blog-worthy pictures are within my grasp (still set on getting a proper camera for proper photography as well).

Until then, here’s my favourite engrish quote of the week, found on a carton of Hokkaido milk – all dairy products seem to come from Hokkaido, as it’s the big agricultural centre:

“We send to you the delicious milk extracted from the fine good dairy cow which grew up in beautiful Nature.”

It’s not poor spelling that makes these funny, rather word choice and wondering why these semi-inspirational proverbs and slogans are found in such mundane places, let alone why they exist in the first place. Ah well!