Kore wa nan desuka? (what is that?)

Chart Network

Roadhitter

Cosmos

What's Up?

New Stage

Onstage

Watching Joyful

Cheer Up!

Enjoy!

and my personal favorite:

Get!

What are these? Do you give up? They are the titles of the English as a Foreign Language textbooks in my line of sight. It's an uphill battle.

Welcome to Tower of Power Japan!

Pop quiz time, kids! Please identify this structure, in your own words (without using the words "big," "white," or "tower"):

Is this...

a. The tower from which King Neptune reigns benevolently over his aquatic kingdom?
b. Where Gandalf and Radagast pound Jagerbombs/hold the annual Istari Charity Pancake Breakfast?
c. The Eiffel Tower, as seen by Marcel Duchamp with a headful of absinthe (1911-1913)?
d. The headquarters of a bloodthirsty cult who sacrifice goats to the Great Old Ones?
e. The headquarters of a regular ol' cult?

All ready? OK, pencils down! Yes, the answer is "e" (and possibly "c", I'm not qualified to testify on Msr. Duchamp's mental state). This is the Perfect Liberty Tower, right here in Tondabayashi City, Osaka Prefecture, Japan. Just for a bit of perspective, here's the tower in relation to our house:

OK, I guess that doesn't really give much perspective to some readers who don't really know the ins and outs of Japanese geography. Here's the same map, a bit more zoomed out.

Alarming indeed.

If "Perfect Liberty" sounds at all cult-like, that's because it is -- they have their own bus lines in the city, and they're host to the world's largest annual fireworks display. Tondabayashi natives are eager to point out that it's not one of those cults, though. More of a New Religious Movement, really, nothing to worry about (especially not with the mass transit lines or stockpiles of colorful explosives).

Scarier than this imposing not-really-phallic monument looming over the city, actually, is the huge corporate HQ of Perfect Liberty. When Americans hear talk about not keeping up with the Japanese, this is what they're talking about. Where our American cults have shotgun shacks, militant bunkers, and Mormon architecture, the PL people have a huge office building with at least three parking lots. Plus a PL museum the same size as the corporate offices right next door. I guess we have John Travolta, though, so that's something.

And now for a message from Jenn and Harry to their friends and readers:

Are you lonely? Confused? Lost in a cold and often uncaring world? We are! Comment on these posts if you have anything to say, we'd love to hear from you!

Of Implements, Karate, Big-Ass Trees, and Mega Man

As a journalist and a leading member of the Blogosphere (Leading the World in Taking Pictures of Food Since 1999 (TM)), I have many responsibilities: Seinfeldian bitching, for instance (that is, writings of the "what's the deal with..." variety), and using Google Image Search to help document anything that I'm too lazy to take a picture of myself. As one of the millions of bloggers who covers living in Japan (largely for the benefit of other people who live in -- and thus, blog about -- Japan), my responsibilities are expanded to include specific bitching about travel, toilets, height, vending machines, and violent porn comics. Having expended most of the educational and humorous potential of these last few topics, I figured it was time to do some traveling. For the good of the Internet, you understand.

Koya-san is called the holiest mountain in Japan. Yes, before you ask, they use the same suffix for "mountain" and "mister." No, I don't know why. Now pipe down. Jenn and I took the long, arduous trek up the mountains to this heavenly destination, and in the process we shared something with the many Buddhist monks since 800 A.D. who have made their pilgrimage to the holy mountain and also happened to live on the Nankai Koya railroad line. It took about an hour...those monks seriously are a bunch of whiners, I tell you.

(Warning: the following sentence contains a great deal of accurate information, and may in fact be completely boring) As is the custom in Koya-san, we stayed in a monastery of the Buddhist Shingon sect, a form of esoteric Buddhism founded by the great Kukai (also known as Kobo-Daishi) nearly 1200 years ago. Kobo-Daishi is also known for inventing the kana writing system, making him simultaneously the most important man in Japanese letters and the god-damnedest nuisance in world history. I mean, seriously? You needed two more alphabets to say "I bought a TV today"? Really, Kobo-Daishi?

Anyway, back to this blog post (more on all that later). Most monasteries welcome tourists as their only form of income, so the various Buddhist priests are all very accommodating, inviting their guests in to watch and even take part in twice-daily religious services and meditation. Payment is on check-in. That may be so guests don't trash the hotel rooms, as if there were anything to trash:
Tatami floors, futons, tea service, and a TV for every guest. Those monks are wild and crazy guys, all right! Carey, Monique, Jenn and I left our TVs off, though we did extort an extra pitcher of hot water out of the ritually tight-fisted monks. Speaking of:

Included in the price of lodging are two vegetarian meals prepared according to ancient monastic culinary traditions. It was all delicious, though it was explained to us very apologetically that the meals are exactly the same every day (monks hate repeat business). That closed red container held a Koya-san specialty called gomadofu, a soft sesame-based tofu that was probably delicious; being unable to defy physics and eat a gelatinous food with chopsticks, clumsy me, I spilled mine on the floor. This wouldn't have been a problem were it not for the fact that Japanese people don't seem to believe in napkins, meaning I had to surreptitiously mop it up with my chopsticks wrapper and my sock. I was too afraid of being karate-chopped to death to try again, so I'm just going to go ahead and give gomadofu a 10 out of 10 and be done with it.

After the meal, the head priest's mother came in to tell us in flawless English all about the history of Koya-san and her 89 years of experience. The part I enjoyed the most was hearing about how she went to Tokyo 70 years ago to study English at a university; she was the only woman in the program, and by the time she got back home, she was derided for learning what was now the "Language of the Enemy." Needless to say, she was in pretty high demand a few years later. Our interest utterly captivated, she then proceeded to the ask-me-about-my-grandchildren phase of the talk.
This was the view from our hotel room. We were woken up by the call to morning prayers at 5:30 sharp. Those monks have some gall, huh? I was so furious that I had to see the sun rising over the pale blue cast of dawn over the cedars of Koya-san, I just had to angrily take a picture of it. They'll be receiving a stern letter from my travel agent!

Later that day, we went to visit the largest cemetery in the world, Okunoin. It's gorgeous: ancient, built right in the middle of an immense pine forest containing the biggest trees I've ever seen. Judging by this picture, it's also haunted by the ghost of Tom Wolfe for some reason. This cemetery is one of the reasons I came to Japan, as a matter of fact, and it didn't disappoint.
This was also in Okunoin. Japan is actually quite famous for its hilariously passive-aggressive anti-smoking PSAs. Please take note of how the stick man (Cigarette Man, of Mega Man 4, I believe) on the top right has attached a huge cigarette directly to his arm for the purpose of attacking children with it.

The Blogpost Where All my Dreams Came True.

Japan is a wonderful country. Let me show you why:Do my eyes deceive me? Could it be true? Yes! It is real! They really do sell sweet potato pie ice cream! Oh boy oh boy oh boy!

It's apparently both new and dolce (pronounced "doruchi-eh"). The anticipation is killing me.

This right here was the best moment of my life.

Yes, it really was that good. It was so good I went into an alternate dimension for a minute.

Now you see it, now you don't. I'm already sad that it's gone.

I am illiterate.

What would you do if this arrived in your mailbox?



Or this?


What about this?


Well, I would probably do something like this:


(Wow, Jenn's hilarious, she's trying to read her water bill upside down! Ha ha!)

"But Jenn," you say, "Harry studied Japanese for three years at university! Surely he is able to help you with all of these bills that are in your name!" Well, no. That is not the case. "Jenn!" he says. "You write the date here! See? That's the kanji for year, month, and day!"

Fortunately, I have finally learned how to write my name in katakana. It looks like this:
ジエンイフアー　トーマス　　(Pronounced "Jienneefuaa Tomasu." My students looked at me like I was crazy when I introduced myself as "Jennifer.")

One of my responsibilities as Kongo Koko's newest teacher is facilitating E.S.S. (English Speaker's Society).

The English Speaking Society's contribution to the whiteboard of club activities. Really makes you wonder why there are only 4 members.

Last week at ESS, we played Monopoly (yes, Monopoly is still quite possibly the most boring game ever made). The board was bilingual, but the game was played almost entirely in Japanese. I likewise found it baffling. It was really good for my Japanese comprehension (ni juu ichi dollaru!), but I am not supposed to speak any Japanese with the students.

I like the students at Kongo quite a lot. They are really nice and friendly, they just don't have any English conversation skills whatsoever. (This fact becomes quite appalling considering that every single student in Japan starts studying English at the age of 12, some even younger. My students are the equivalent of juniors and seniors. You'd think after 5+ years of English classes they'd be able to say a grammatically correct sentence the simple present tense.) I feel hopeful about helping them learn to speak English, however, if only because most of them are very enthusiastic. I cannot walk the halls without hearing "Jenneefaa! Herroooo!" from all directions.

Turn that EVERYMAN into a BEVERYMAN!

As a nation, Japan is known for many things: cherry blossoms, haiku, classical architecture, violent porn cartoons with badly-synched dialogue (guess which of these four is the most popular!). Something else that has made it famous, though, is its preponderance of wacky vending machines that sell all manner of wondrous products (though not food, for some reason). So, please enjoy the first installment of our 15,000-part series: "Funny Soft Drinks Seen In Japan" or "Enjoyment For Your Relaxing Times!"

One of the most popular brands of coffee sold in Japan is called "Boss" Coffee, featuring two corporate logos: a silhouette of an old guy with a pipe (a recurring theme in Japanese design, I've found), and Tommy Lee Jones putting in the hardest day's work of his life.

I believe it took Tommy Lee over 6 hours to get this pose exactly right.

Springsteen may be the Boss in the Western Hemisphere, but here he must share his crown with half of the Men in Black. Naturally, people take their coffee in different ways. For the boring, hung-over, and racially sensitive, Boss sells this:

I can't imagine why this hasn't made it to the U.S. Hmm...

Japan will also occasionally put revered cultural icons on their soft drinks in an effort to enshrine their national heroes in a popular venue:

Ultraman Cider. Yes, that Ultraman. It's soda shaped like his head.

Come on, America, what happened to competing with the Japanese? Why haven't we started producing soda shaped like the heads of our own beloved TV stars? I, for one, would love to drink soda out of the head of, say, Alf. Or Data. Hell, even Bill O'Reilly's Conserva-Cola!

There's nothing really all that hilarious about Dakara, except that it really pushes the boundaries of beverages to the limit (also, it advertises how little style it has rather proudly):

I love you, sports drink. But until the government recognizes our love, we must remain only "Life Partners."

To make sure "Life Partner" is forever associated with milky-white sports drinks, this one reinforces the image with a detachable merit badge/bottlecap, here modeled by a young man with at least as much style and panache as Tommy Lee Jones:

It took me 15 foot-rubs and a move to Japan to get the Life Partner Merit Badge. Worth it!

Speaking of cloudy-white sports-themed beverages (best not to think about it), Japan's most popular drink remains, inexplicably, this:

JAM IT IN YOUR FACE-HOLE!

OK, get out some good laughs, now. Yes, it's a drink that advertises itself as "sweat" (there's also "Pet Sweat," I guess for particularly athletic Schnauzers). I've been told, though, that the idea is a medicinal one: your body sweats, and Pocari Sweat replenishes the energy and nutrients that are lost in the sweat. Much of traditional Japanese (and Chinese) medicine works in a similar fashion, really; herbs and minerals improve the body's processes by making up for substances that it lacks. Not to seem too horribly ignorant/racist here, but it does recall Western Medieval medicinal theory, doesn't it?

"Hey, Ted, what's wrong? You look down!"
"Aw, I dunno, I guess I'm just feeling kinda...melancholy. I hope nothing's wrong with my spleen!"
"Nah, you just need to slam a can of new YELLOW BILE COLA!"
*They mosh, rock out, do other extreme activities*
YELLOW BILE COLA: GET CHOLERIC, BITCH!

Still, it makes at least as much sense as "electrolytes."

P.S.

That's right, folks, this is a historic double post by the Gaijin Patrol! Savor it, for the moment may never yet come again! Huzzah!

...And by all that, I mean that I forgot to mention something in what I posted earlier today: there are many, many more photos of our adventures in Japan on my Facebook profile. I have uploaded 2 albums' worth, with more on the way. If you're not my friend or not on Facebook (heresy!), these should do it:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2103122&id=36103018&l=0f3de48c12
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2102330&id=36103018&l=863fab4d38
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2101117&id=36103018&l=3739551d82

...And by all that, I mean that after you read this post, you should read the one under this, too. Y'know, the rambling, self-important one. I'll leave it up to you to figure out which one I mean by that. In justification of this contentless blog post, please enjoy this photo of Mac the dog!

Taco Night!

Yes, taco night. What red-blooded American doesn't have fond memories of family Taco Night. Whether it's observed on Taco Tuesday, Taco Friday, or for the entirety of Taco History Month; whether your tortillas be flour or corn; whether your tacos be filled with beef, chicken, cheese, or some combination of the three; whether the tacos are lovingly handmade at the table or picked up from a fast food chain, Taco Night means one thing: egalitarian distribution of labor (i.e., the much-vaunted Make Your Own Damn Taco rule). And joy, too. Two things, Taco Night means two things.

Truly, an American institution on par with Thanksgiving or Hot Dog On A Stick.

Well, as you may or may not be aware, Japan is a nation tragically bereft of tacos as we know them. Indian food abounds, as does Italian. Basically, if you want flat bread-like products topped with food, you'll have to settle for naan, pizza, or hot dogs. It's enough to make a grown man cry.

Having almost depleted the packets of taco seasoning that I smuggled into the country a month ago, Jenn and I must resort to adopting the native Japanese tako, which, while homonymous with the beloved icon of Taco Night and delicious its own right, has little to do with our Earth tacos. See figures 1 and 2:

The Japanese have a thing about anthropomorphizing their food, for some reason. This tako appears to have his own shrine in the parking lot a restaurant where he will be adorably butchered and consumed. Kawaii!

This tako...well, it doesn't have the best self esteem.

Yes, tako is, in fact, the Japanese word for octopus. Jenn and I have done our best to embrace this Osakan culinary landmark, which isn't all that hard, really; it's tasty, especially when the only bits of it you see on your plate are cut up in little unidentifiable chunks. So we've tried to make Tako Night just as special as Taco Night, even going so far as to name our wireless network after it (for our password, click here). Here is an actual graphic photo taken during our last Tako Night (warning, this picture should not be viewed by the squeamish or by anyone who doesn't like eggplant):

Not pictured: the head, including brain, beak, ink-hole, and weird-ass little mouth-tube. I threw that shit away before pulling out the camera. You're welcome!

And to prove that this is all meant to be eaten, here's fingers that could actually be mine touching what could very well be that same octopus (take that, skeptics!):

An anonymous, blurry, crooked photo? That could only be Harry!

So there you have it. I'd include a recipe, but let's be honest: you're not going to cook it. Also we more or less made it up as we went along.

Secrets of the Japanese Educational System

Friends, I'm sure you've heard the same numbers that I have; Japanese students regularly outperform American high school students on standardized tests by as much as 15, 20, 92, and even a staggering 184(and those are Japanese elementary school students, by the way). Japan has been pointed to as an example of rigorous, intensive education since the early 1980s (maybe even earlier, but as a member of the somethingorother-generation, I can't be bothered with anything that happened before Wrath of Khan). Educators have been wracking their brains and crying buckets of tears, wailing, "Sure, American students don't regularly commit suicide after failing exams, but why can't they perform simple arithmetic like the Japanese?"

Well, Internet, I bring you news of the ancient secret to Japanese success: overnight rigorous academic programs! By sequestering students away from the classroom environment to do nothing but dedicate their every waking moment to the study of science or English, Japanese schools can hugely facilitate their education. In violation of industry secrecy standards, Jenn and I were invited to help with an English Overnight Program held by Jenn's school, Kongo High School. There we bore witness to these fascinating pedagogical tactics:

Performing skits (30 minutes):


Writing and preparing for those skits (3 hours):



Rehearsing the skits (2 hours):



Um...further English Education (2 hours):



And fireworks (1 1/2 hours):

"Give fireworks to teenagers and let them have at it? Why not? What could possibly go wrong?"

And that's it, actually. The directions for the skit activity, to which at least 8 hours was devoted (the rest was pretty evenly divided among eating, sleeping, sports, and fireworks), were "Make a creative news story in English." Those were the only directions given.

The one real perk of the whole program: it was held here:


The beauty of Kawachinagano Youth Center was only slightly undermined by the presence in every hallway of a bucket, tongs, and picture of a friggin' enormous centipede. Though I'm still more or less illiterate in Japanese, the intent seemed clear enough that I successfully avoided being eaten by centipedes (mostly through the precautionary measure of not falling asleep).

Welcome to the Working Week!

Yes, you may have heard it shouted from the rooftops even all the way across the Pacific: thanks to the untimely quitting of another contract employee, I now have a position at ECC Best Careers! I'll be teaching at Sakashima High School here in Osaka, about an hour's commute from our place in Tondabayashi. It's a Monday-Thursday job running from October to February.


In a word:

More to come.

Have you seen this woman?

The answer to that question is probably no. But, I assure you all, I am alive and (in some senses of the word) well. I have started "teaching" at Kongo High School (I'm actually just introducing myself over and over and over and over), but I'm sure at some point, I will be able to talk with my students about things other than myself. Like, for example, the weather. Or whether or not they like bananas. And, as of yesterday Harry and I are the proud parents of a brand spankin' new internet connection, so I can finally take time out of my busy schedule of sitting at my desk because I am required to be there from 8:30 to 4:15 regardless of whether or not I have any work to do there. (I know I shouldn't complain about the grueling hours or anything, but having to look busy is taxing. And stupid. Likewise attending meanings when you do not UNDERSTAND A DAMN THING THAT ANYONE IS SAYING.)

In other news, in the week before Harry arrived (I realize this is old news) I purchased and installed a washing machine all by myself. International travel is all about stretching your boundaries. I, however, do not feel old enough to own a washing machine. (Addendum: I bought it used.)

Tune in later for the blog post where I actually talk about Japan!