Hey,
Well, here's the latest update. Again, hope it's still of interest to
people, and again, if there's anything you'd like me to address specifically
about life here in Japan, let me know! It would be my pleasure. I've also
tacked on the usual FFML exlusive at the end, although it's rather shorter
than usual. And sorry for the unfortunately grim ending. Yeah.
-Mike Noakes
***
Wednesday, April 5, 2000
Yes, I realize it's only been about a week or two since my last update, but,
hey, it's been a really good time since then. I've also had a couple of
requests to write about specific observations of life here in Japan, so. . .
here we go:
The main reason for writing another update so soon is my trip to Osaka of
the 25th. That city is more than worth an entry in itself, and I seriously
doubt I'll be able to do it justice by writing about it here. Osaka is the
second biggest city of Japan, the western counterpart of Tokyo, and an
absolutely stunning experience. A non-stop, vibrant, hectic energy runs
through the city, and it's very easy to get swept up in its current. It's
hard for me to make a fair comparison between Osaka and Tokyo; I was in
Tokyo for longer, admittedly, but it was immediately upon my arrival in
Japan, and at that time I was ill-prepared to deal with the Shinjuku
district in which I was staying. I was jet-lagged, there was a conference
to attend, and it was my first true time abroad: I only remember being
overwhelmed. This time I felt somewhat better prepared to absorb what I was
seeing, and what a sight it is: Bladerunner without the rain; a sprawl of
neon, corner shops, snack bars and shopping arcades fuelled by the
entertainment needs and large wallets of a million status-driven salarimen.
The route from my home city of Takamatsu, Kagawa prefecture, on
Shikoku, to Osaka, is obviously a well-travelled one, and many foreigners
(and natives, of course) take frequent day or weekend-trips there. The most
economical, if somewhat slow, method, is to take the ferry from Takamatsu to
Kobe (about a four hour trip), and then the train to Osaka (about 1/2 an
hour). The ferry ride itself is actually very pleasant, especially once the
weather warms up. These jumbo ferries provide all the necessities: an udon
shop, numerous vending machines, non-smoking section, an arcade, reclining
seats, and, most importantly, a very large tatami-mat area for sleeping. It
was a great feeling, coasting into Kobe with can of Asahi beer in hand,
shades on and basking in the sun and enjoying the brisk sea air, talking
with a friend as we passed under the Akashi-Kaikyo bridge -- the longest
suspension bridge in the world, according to Lonely Planet.
Kobe itself is impressive, at least in comparison to Takamatsu, but
it's most amazing achievement is that no sign of the terrible earthquake of
five years ago is apparent. They've risen from those ruins and it's
business as usual, apparently, and Kobe remains a city I'd like to visit for
itself one day, instead of as a convenient stepping stone towards Osaka
(into which role it most often slips). So, after a quick stop for some
over-priced and under-filling Italian food, it was onward to the big city.
There was an actual purpose to the trip: one friend, Dave, had to be at
Kansai airport at 7:30 AM the next day, to pick up a friend who was flying
in from England. That's a pretty early time to be getting into Osaka,
considering the four-hour trip to get here, so it just made sense to gather
a group of friends, come a day earlier, check out the sights, have a little
fun, find a cheap place to crash for the night (believe it or not, it is
possible to find cheap places to stay), and make it to the airport with time
to spare. Ah, how the best laid plans go oft astray. . . .
My first impression of Osaka was, unsurprisingly, that it was busy --
very busy. People move quickly (tradition has it that Osakans are the
quickest walkers in Japan), and there's lots of them: instead of a common,
laid-back greeting like 'genki ka' (are you well), Osakans are said to ask
'moo kari makka' (are you making money). Lots of people don't an impressive
city make, however, although truth be told I've experienced very few truly
large cities. My home city is small (54k), and Ottawa, where I did my
university, barely clears one million, and even then, only by including the
surrounding suburbs. Metropolitan Montreal (which I've visited frequently)
clears three million, and Toronto (which I haven't visited frequently)
clears four. But neither approximates Osaka. It's not just a matter of
population, although obviously that's a big part of it: while the city
itself is only about 2.5 million (two years ago), taken as a prefecture (and
it's the second smallest prefecture in Japan,) Osaka nearly clears nine
million people. It's the intense visual assault that threatens to make
Osaka an overwhelming experience. It's the narrow roads and crazy drivers
and unending urban expanse. . . if you're looking for culture, try Kyoto or
Nara or even Shikoku, but if you're looking for simple fun and vigor, I've
discovered Osaka is a great place to be.
There's a lot happening, especially as it approaches night, and
especially on the weekend. First thing we saw, stepping out of the subway,
was this giant Ferris wheel sitting atop a nearby building; of course, we
immediately went and checked it out. An expensive ride, to be sure (700
yen), but, man, what a view! Not quite the same as Tokyo (where the city
scape, seen from the fortieth floor of the hotel I was staying in, stretched
on as far as the eye could see), since mountains were visible in the
distance, but nevertheless quite impressive. After that ride we found a
Sega Joypolis in the same building, and wasted a few hours there. The
name's a bit deceptive, though: I wouldn't quite call this electronic
indoors amusement park a 'city of joy' -- it's overpriced, the rides were
too short, and the waits too long. Still worth the visit, though, even just
to see what the latest video games Sega is pumping out, are. (They had this
great new racing game: think 'Crazy Taxi,' in an eighteen-wheeler.)
By the time we left there, it was dark, and the best part of the trip
began: wandering through the city. With the decent of night came the
release from economic bondage of the city's horde of well-suited salarimen.
I actually came to feel under-dressed as we moved through the unfamiliar
streets, surrounded by so many sharply-tailored, if incipiently drunk,
people. Before heading to Japan I read a number of books on the country and
culture (mostly a waste of time, really), and found that many of the
generalizations about Japan were untrue. A recurring one involved the
material prioritization of your average Japanese: apparently, it went
clothes/appearance, then home, then food. I've found that to be mostly
rubbish, but I've come to realize that these books -may- have some truth to
them. . . but that they're all Tokyo and Osaka-centric. Certainly, the
above may be true to Osaka.
We spent some time wandering, following the lead of a party member
who'd been to Osaka a number of times before, slowly working our way towards
Amerika-mura (America Village). It was easy to find once we got closer,
since there's a large replica of the Statue of Liberty squatting atop a
central building. This area of town wasn't really a replica of America in
anyway, though a larger number of stores had pseudo-English names to them,
but it does seem to be the area that the younger 'trendy' crowd heads
towards. Passing through (it was still too early to really check out any
bars or anything) we drifted on to Dotombori, which was supposedly the area
that inspired some of the visuals of Bladerunner (or so I've heard). It was
here that the nearly-overwhelming visuals kicked in. I've rarely moved
through streets so thronged with hurried people, with drunk, loud people
(they've now had a few hours to pound a few back), with so many flashing
lights and cute advertisements and loud, blaring arcades spilling out onto
the street, and early snack and hostess girls offering their wares -- and on
it goes.
A number of years back I went to a Pearl Jam concert in Toronto, at the
old Maple Leaf Gardens. Good show, even if my seat wanked, but when we
spilled out onto the street afterwards, the crowd had effectively taken that
section of town as their own for the next hour or so. Lifting myself up
onto a streetlight gave a great view of the mass of bobbing heads spread out
in every direction. That was a concert. Osaka is every day. Stopping by a
gaijin giving a (rather lame) fire-swallowing busking show on a small hill,
I could see down into one of the covered shopping arcades that make up
Dotombori. The same flowing mass of people, not quite as congested, flowing
quicker, and certainly less high on weed, but equally if not more
impressive, set as it was against the innumerable flashing lights.
An interesting aside: moving along as we were, I didn't get to try it
out, but we stumbled across a really cool video game: a Fist of the North
Star simulator. I suppose most people reading this won't know what that is
-- essentially, a speed-punching game. Around a central screen are placed
six punching pads, and as they pop up you have to punch them back down; as
the game progresses (and the on-screen Ken begins his yipyipyipyip attack
sequence) they start coming fast and furious. Funny stuff to watch. Also,
you know those famed UFO catcher boxes, with the little claws for grabbing
those nigh-impossible-to-get trinkets? The latest (grossest) iteration of
this is the lobster-catcher: that's right, catch your own live lobster and
bring the sushi home yourself! Yum! (Who cares that little lobster bits
that were ripped off by earlier attempts float about in the murky waters,
slowly decomposing?) Also, the latest OL (office lady) game of choice
(that's right, in Japan, even -girls- (gasp!) play games in arcades) is 'The
Typing of the Dead': House of the Dead 2, with the light-gun replaced with a
keyboard. . . can you type in that string of letters before that zombie
bites your head off? Hey, don't laugh, the game was getting some serious
usage when I saw it.
Anyway, hunger eventually set in, and we set off to find the Pig and
Whistle, a somewhat famous English pub in Osaka. We wanted some genuine
fish-and-chips; Japan loves its fish, but the concept of dipping it in
batter and frying it never really caught on, and for some reason they seem
to think that french-fries ought to be served cold. . . . We followed the
Lonely Planet guide map. Here's a warning to others inclined to do the
same. -Don't-, it's a waste of time. Problem with LP, they don't update
their material nearly often enough (well, that, and they play obvious
favouritism). The pub we tried to find was gone; a later bar they mentioned
was gone as well. All for the best, it turned out, for near where the pub
was supposed to be, we found a Mexican restaurant.
What's so special about that, you ask? Any idea how -hard- it is to
find Mexican food in Japan? But this place had it. . . it had it all!
Mexican beans, peppers, beer, honest-to-goodness burritos and enchiladas,
enough to set the most eager of stomachs a-rumble. Half-an-hour wait,
though, but that proved entertaining as well. As we waited (it took awhile
for a table of six to clear up), this one sharp-looking couple showed up and
had to wait as well. The woman was simply stunning, in both looks and
comportment, sitting with such posture and grace; I couldn't overhear a word
(and wouldn't have understood, anyway), but you just knew at a glance that
her conversation reeked of sophistication. The contrast was amusing: her in
the background, while the girl next to me was talking about hypothetical cum
on her chin, and the other girl with us stomped around with paper beneath
her feet, her graceless dance meant to soak up the beer she had spilled when
dropping her half-litre can. I hang with such a refined crowd. . . .
Well, after that great bit of (expensive) food, it was time to check
out the famed Osaka nightlife. I was hoping to find a dance-bar, a real
itch to (ahem) groove settling in. I hate dancing, or at least thought I
did. I certainly did back in Canada. Something about the meat-market 'City
Club' and 'On Tap' and 'RJ's Boom-Boom saloon'-style dance 'clubs' I grew
used to in Ottawa really turned me off the whole thing. But I've
rediscovered the joys of dancing here in the land of the rising sun -- aptly
named, since that seems to be until when people dance around here. Not that
I can dance any better here (although I like to think that I've finally,
against all odds, discovered a modicum a rhythm; hey, who would've thought
that a simple 4/4 beat lay at the base of it all?) I've simply learnt to
not care; I've learnt it doesn't really matter how you look out there; more
importantly, I've learnt that most Japanese are even -worse- dancers than I
am. A terrible, truly damning generalization to make, I agree, but I swear
it's true, it's a thing of wonder, and I'm more than willing to take
advantage of it. I first discovered this truth in Takamatsu, and assumed
that Osaka would raise the bar beyond my feeble skills, but they sucked
there too. A bar is so much more enjoyable when you all suck equally. At
dancing.
So we found our way towards Amerika-mura once again, and into a bar
called 'Inferno,' which, sadly, proved to be anything but hot. We picked it
since two out of our group had been there previously, though in such a state
of intoxication at that time that they only recognized the bar once they
stepped foot into it once again. An interesting sign on the door warned:
"no violence or perverts allowed." Guess we should've turned around right
then.
What did make the place interesting, however, was the attached bar one
floor down, which was filled with kogyaru preparing for a night of para-para
dancing. What's kogyaru and para-para, you might well ask? Welcome to one
of the odder undersides of Japanese culture. I've seen the stuff, and it
just don't make no sense to me, and we're not talking some kind of
generational gap thing (I'm not -that- old). It's just plain weird, and if
that sounds like encroaching middle-age justification, then you haven't seen
it.
Kogyaru: Japanese fashion victim, or sharp-minded undercutting of
social mores? I'm leaning towards the first. Kogyaru is a bastardized
Japenglish term, the 'gyaru' bit being a katakanization of English 'girl',
and. . . well, I'm really not sure what the 'ko' stands for. It might draw
from the kanji for 'high', or from 'small', or maybe it's an abbreviation
for 'kowai,' which means 'scary.' Either way, it's certainly an odd look,
but one's that quite popular in the urban centres, drawing heavily from
various idols and fashion magazines. A local area English-language
publication, called the 'Kansai Times Out' had a little tongue-in-cheek quiz
to measure one's Ko-quotient; here's a couple of the (not far off the mark)
questions they had:
"Have you ever been told that the only thing looser than your socks is
your morals?"
"Are your shoe heels longer than your keitai [cellphone], while your
skirt is shorter than it?"
"Do you lay awake at night trying to choose between the names 'Kitty'
and 'Miffy' to name your first child (male or female)?"
And so on. The most distinctive feature isn't the shoes or short
skirt, actually, since that seems to be a staple of feminine Japanese
fashion (no complaints here, although one does eventually become inured to
the whole thing). Rather, it's the artificially darkened skin contrasted
with the shockingly pale hair that distinguishes them; that, and the
attitude, of course.
As for the "para-para" dancing bit, well. . . that's something that
needs to be seen. I haven't seen it in full swing, yet, but I did see a
little warm-up practice. So you've got all these kogyaru hanging around in
a bar, right, drinking a little and pretty much just looking cool. Some
music gets put on, and they all start. . . well, dancing. Well, what they
call dancing: there's no actual body movement involved. But they do wave
their arms around a lot. In perfect sync with each other. They memorize
this sequence of arm movements, and perform them in total harmony, in beat
with the music. Supposedly, in full force, you'll literally get dozens of
girls, all in lines, doing the whole thing in perfect sync with each other,
maintaining this utterly disinterested look on their face. Really cool,
really weird stuff.
So that's kogyaru and para-para dancing, and that's what we bumped into
at the first bar. But after checking out the warming-up session, it was
time to move on to the next place: Junktion. This turned out to be a gaijin
bar. Gaijin bars are those drinking and dancing spots that, for whatever
reason, have become popular with the foreign population. This was an odd
place, though. Pretty posh, for a bar, but it felt like dancing in
somebody's living room, what with the carpeting and furniture pushed off to
one side. Great DJ, though, doing this great, flawless Beastie Boys to
Fatboy Slim to Chemical Brothers to Prodigy mix -- great fun to dance to.
But it felt just a little too much like partying down at your rich friend's
house while the parents were away, so we moved on to what would be the last
stop of the night. Not much to report about this place. Little semi-dive
called 'Someplace Else'. Fun crowd, nice mix of gaijin and Japanese,
slightly expensive (1500 yen/2 drinks) but not unusually so. And so we
stayed, chatted, drank, and danced. . . until six am, at which point the bar
closed and kicked us all out, blinking and exhausted, into the harsh light
of day.
Dotombori looked different by daylight. Trash lined the streets.
Other like us, tired, hung-over, bleary-eyed, were staggering out onto the
street as well. A few still carried with them the attitude of the night --
like these kogyaru we met -- but most people were threw aside whatever
pretensions they may have carried with them, admitted defeat, and wandered
off towards home. It was a little stunning to realize (at a later date; I
wasn't up to realizing much of anything, at that point) that this happens
here every weekend. It looked like a small carnival had torn through town.
After that, there was nothing to do but to make our way back to Kobe
(where we stopped at McDonald's, and I devoured a full three sausage-egg
McMuffins), and crash at the ferry-port for a few hours while waiting for
the ferry to show up (a most uncomfortable experience, I assure you).
Ten-thirty, on the ferry, crawl over to the wonderful tatami room, and pass
out for the remainder of the voyage home.
(The trip home, of course, wasn't that easy. Leaving Osaka, we lost
one friend, pissed out of his mind, first managed to piss-off a few Japanese
cops, and then later wandered off on his own. There was also the poor sap
who had to go pick up his friend at Kansai International Airport.)
And that was Osaka.
One of the nice things about having friends and family visit from back home
is that it revitalizes the Japan experience anew. All those things which
you've grown accustomed and desensitized to despite yourself, can be
re-experienced in demonstration and seen with the same naivete that you
carried over during the initial stay. So, with Dave's friend Claire
visiting from England, there were all the old Japanese staples to introduce
to her, from izakayas to robo-sushi, from karaoke to Dance Dance Revolution.
And, in an effort to maximize our time, I suppose, we combined the last
two into a truly surreal experience: the DDR-Karaoke room. The major
Karaoke bars, like The Big Echo, have one room equipped as such. In these
places, not only do you sing karaoke as you normally would. . . but you can
dance as well, courtesy of the readily available Dance Dance Revolution
dancing simulator game set up in your room. You ever try singing 'Battery'
while dancing a fast, furious, and stupid-looking beat? To 'add' to the
experience, they also provide a mini drum kit and a guitar simulator. With
everything going in unison, and an ample supply of beer flowing, you have
the thing of which nightmares are made of. I loved it, but poor Claire
looked a little shell-shocked at first.
Her arrival was perfectly timed, since it marked the beginning of the
cherry-blossom (sakura) season here in Takamatsu. The Japanese have a
certain obsession with the sakura season: the television stations give
regular updates on the sakura 'fronts' as they sweep northwards towards
Hokkaido, and everyone indulges in seasonal 'hanami' parties. Hanami (lit.
'Flower-watching') is a wonderful tradition, though an exhausting one, and
it's a pity we don't have anything similar back home (like we need another
excuse to get drunk on a beautiful spring day.) Hordes of Japanese
salarimen and families and company groups swoop down upon the numerous
sakura-worthy parks, set up camp beneath one of the many trees, crack open
the sake, and (ahem) admire the beauty of this short-lived blossom. At
night, they even demonstrate their admiration for the flower by pulling out
the portable karaoke machines and serenading the poor things.
Sarcasm aside, however, I can appreciate the Japanese love affair with
their national flower. Seen set against the natural landscape, or scattered
throughout the urban sprawl, it truly is a gorgeous tree. Short lived,
delicate, ephemeral, it truly is a symbol for generations of poets to
embrace.
We embraced it by heading up Minayama mountain, in Takamatsu, and
hanging out with a group of Japanese who had invited us along, and enjoyed a
wonderful barbeque at the summer. The sakura here was the best I've seen,
and the view of Takamatsu from this high, central location, impressive.
Over the entire sakura season, I took many, many a picture. I'll have to
scan in some of the best.
Claire has returned home since then, and I sincerely hope she had a
most enjoyable two-week stay in Japan.
Of course, life isn't always great and perfect for foreigners, here in the
land of the rising sun. It has been mostly great for me, but many people
aren't quite as happy. I've been lucky: through the security of the JET
program, and the friends (both gaijin and Japanese) I was fortunate to make
early, any of the major difficulties I may have run into were easily
overcome. I was also at a point in my life that was most agreeable to time
spent abroad -- which is to say, after working as a civil servant for six
months in Ottawa, I would've taken up an offer to teach English in the
Abyss. Seriously, though, it helps to not have any really serious ties back
home (that is, girl/boy-friends, fianc�(e)s, so on), to be able to spend
time away from family, to being able to cope with spending time alone (many
people are hit in a big way by pains of loneliness over here) and so on. . .
the kid of things you'd expect from being abroad in a foreign country where
you don't speak the language. And, of course, unless you're independently
wealthy, it helps to find a job in which you'll actually be happy in.
Coming to Japan just for the money's probably a bad idea.
So, for those interested in coming over (and despite the above, I
heartily recommend it to everyone), be very, very careful to research the
means by which you plan to begin working here in Japan. The majority of
gaijin here are English teachers, of course, and, aside from JET, there's a
large number of language schools available. Getting hired by one of them is
easy (assuming you have the minimum requirement of a university degree,
although I'm not convinced that piece of paper really assures any level of
competence or quality), because they've got an extremely high turn-over
rate. Beware of them! There's a high turnover rate for a reason. This
warning comes courtesy of a friend who was recently screwed over by one of
these companies.
Some of these school will work you hard, without consideration for any
personal need you may have, because they know that should they lose an
employee, he or she can be replaced with ridiculous ease. Employees at many
(not all) of the language schools are treated as cannon-fodder. Although
most places don't demand more than five-day weeks (often Tuesday to
Saturday), they do enforce long hours, unexpected classes, and in some cases
don't offer any days off for the length of your contract. In the case of my
friend, after a mishap at work, she was threatened with being fired, a
million-yen lawsuit, the withholding of both her key-money and final month's
pay, and the loss of her apartment. In such a situation, it's easy to
panic, which is what they count on, I suppose, especially since many of the
threat are not only ludicrous, but illegal as well. Of course, ever try to
find out what your legal right even -are- in a foreign country, when you
don't even necessarily speak the language very well?
So all this to say: come to Japan, it's a great experience, just know
who you're working for, first. And if you're currently considering an offer
put forward by Lingo school. . . turn it down, now.
Well, anyway, this thing has gotten long enough as is. There were a bunch
of other things I wanted to add, including specific requests I received, but
that'll have to wait until the next update. It might come soon. I don't
know. I'm in a pretty pissy mood right now. The girl I've been interested
for the last little bit just shot me down, indirectly (which, of course,
just makes it all the worse), and it's only now that I realize how much I
really did like her. Well, shit. So I'm angry, and in this moment some
advice I was given a few years back resonates quite strongly. I was in a
bar, with some buddies; it was during my stint in the reserves, and we were
all on leave. So we're drinking a lot, my Master Corporal's rather sloshed,
and, of course, we're talking about women. His advice on picking up girls:
well. . . I can't quite remember exactly what he said, but it boiled down
to, 'treat them like bitches, don't give a shit about what they think, just
get in there, be aggressive, and if they shoot you down, fuck it. They're a
dime a dozen. Who cares.'
Whatever, I then thought. But there's truth there, that I've only now
come to realize. There's certainly no point in ever waiting for the girl to
make any kind of move. I'm angry, now, which is why I'm writing this sexist
crap, but the thing I'm angriest about is that I didn't make that earlier
advance, that I wasn't more aggressive. Lesson learnt.
And this, then, shows that life in Japan isn't -always- great.
***
FFML Exclusive:
Not much to say here. Japanese tv seasons are weird, I can't quite figure
them out, and anime isn't exactly the top on my mind right now. All I can
say is that a lot of my favourite shows seem to have ended, or gone off the
air, and the replacement shows all seem to suck, every last one of them.
There's even a new Transformers anime, and, man, does it bite. North
America's doing it far better right now with the whole Beast Wars thing.
On the plus side, I caught an episode of CC Sakura lately, and actually
understood a sizable portion of it - whether you like the show or not (and
it's -very- saccharine, heck, it makes Sailor Moon look grown up), it's a
great confidence boost if you're studying Japanese.
Hmm, well, like I said, sorry the exclusive's so short. When I'm in a
better mood I'll try and find out what the names of these new shows are, are
give the usual reviews of them. Now, I'm going to go off and maybe write a
couple of really nasty fanfic scenes.
-Mike Noakes
April 19th, 2000
noakes_m@hotmail.com
http://www.geocities.com/noakes_m
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