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The trip to Hokkaido Sunday June 22

I've already uploaded the pictures, but I have yet to put comments on them. For those of you who don't know, I just completed a 5-day cycling tour in Hokkaido with some coworkers. 5 days, 715 kilometers (that's 444 miles for those of you who don't speak metric), and over 7,500 meters of vertical climb.

Yeah, I'm not going to lie. It was hard. But truth be told, it wasn't as hard as I imagined it may be.

I first bought my road bike on March 2nd, and I set out on Day 1 of the journey on June 1st. 90 days isn't particularly long -- I am slightly amazed at what the mind and body can do in a reasonably short amount of time when one sets one's mind towards a particular goal. Jon was joking that when I first started in March, a day's ride of 70 kilometers seemed like a big deal. Now, that's a nice healthy ride, but nothing I couldn't easily handle. Heck, I do 22-25 a day when I go back and forth between work.

Observation number 2: Hokkaido is much, much larger than I had originally imagined. Certainly, in context of the US, Japan itself is small, but when you deal with Japan, Japanese roads/traffic, and mountains, you start feeling like something 100 miles away is very, very distant-- because it isn't easy to get there.

Originally, I had thought we'd be going all the way around Hokkaido. "All the way around must be something like 500 miles," I thought. Wrong-- we did a big loop that encircled only about one-fifth of the size of the entire island.

This only means one thing I suppose: I need to go back and do a different tour!

You have to go there to come back Sunday November 4

My former coworker in our Osaka office got married in Hawai'i to her fiance recently; since no one could attend the ceremony she scheduled a party back in Osaka this weekend. Yuiko's sister lives in Kyoto (30 minutes from Osaka), so I decided to make good use of the weekend and get out of Tokyo.

I only get two precious days for my weekend, so I decided to make the most of them. I find that when I travel by bullet train, I can't really sleep. Credit this to the cool scenery, to the fascination with a train that travels at that speed; either way, if I had left on the first train Saturday morning, I'd arrive tired.

If I had taken the last train (just after 9pm) on Friday, I'd have arrived in Kyoto late, and not been able to do anything interesting on Friday night other than ride in a train. Enter "Galaxy", the aptly-named sleeper-car train from 1986 that leaves Tokyo station nightly at 11:00pm, arriving in Kyoto at 6:45am. I'd never ridden a night train before, so I decided to try it out.

The space was sufficient (although Nathan may have had trouble?), there were clean sheets and a clean pillow cover; it is definitely worth the price (about $12 more than the bullet train, all said and done). The key point I missed, however, was the arrangement of the bunk beds. There are two levels, top and bottom, and two sets face each other in each berth.

What this means is that if you travel in a group of any less than four people, you'll be sleeping near people you don't know. There are curtains, so this wasn't a privacy issue, but for as great as the Japanese are about technology, they have not yet invented "snore-blocking curtains". Across the berth from me was the stereotypical drunk salaryman old guy who, upon falling asleep, snored loud enough to wake me up, many times. Any of you who know how I sleep, you can understand how severe this snoring must have been to have woken me up.

All said and done, I'd do it again. Preferably with four people, but it was a nice experience, and in certain ways, it's a better use of time than the bullet train.

Yesterday, I spent all day in Kyoto on Saori's (Yuiko's sister) bicycle. I went to Kyoto in just May for a wedding, but I was only able to spend an afternoon here, and with Yuiko and Teja, so I didn't really get to just wander around by myself.

Kyoto is full of temples. Once you've seen one, they get less interesting, admittedly, unless you're a history or architecture buff. The eastern side of the city is full of important temples, so there is a regular tourist industry for Japanese nationals and foreigners alike. I have some pictures to support this.

Last night, Taijiro (Saori's boyfriend), Saori, and I went to Kodaiji, one of the more famous temples, as it is lit up at night, quite beautifully. I asked Tai-chan, after a full day of exploring the city on bicycle, "I understand that Kyoto is famous as the first capital of Japan, famous for its temples, famous for this and that, but what interests me when I visit somewhere is not how people used to live, but how they live now."

About five to ten percent of Kyoto's population is students, according to Taijiro. Every year, a quarter of those people leave the city, and a new batch comes. This is starting to sound like a good recipe. There are lots and lots of tiny Western-style cafes where one could read books, study, or just hang out. Some of these cafes have French bakeries attached.

Tai also pointed out another key point: what has made Kyoto stand out in the past twenty years? The Protocol.

The city is trying very hard to market itself as a leader in environmentalism; the city buses run on recycled cooking oil (this is relatively old technology, actually), they are aggressive in recycling, and when I went to a cultural fair yesterday, all of the food was served on ... real plates. My kind of city. Maybe I should move to our company's Osaka office and commute from Kyoto daily?

In closing, I'd like to return to the title of this post. It had been quite awhile (July) since I had "gotten out of town"; I don't count the Great Wall of China. Even though it was a fantastic experience, it was with people from work, for work, and about work (as much as we tried to not make it about work). Todd and I have long discussed this basic principle of life; in order to maintain a reasonable amount of happiness and balance in our lives, sometimes we just need to leave town, go somewhere, do something, and come back.

If you go alone, it's even better. Todd?

You have to go there to come back, and in doing so, I recommend the Galaxy sleeper train. In groups of four.

A trip to China and back Sunday September 9

Last weekend, about 25 people from my company participated in IWNC's program at Jin Shan Ling on the Great Wall of China. I was lucky enough to be selected, both through my personal endeavors and exceeding sales goals, as well as a little help from my friends. I knew from the moment the challenge was announced at work that I would go; money, while important, is never quite as good of a carrot as a non-monetary goal.

"If you reach x, we will let you go on an all-expenses-paid trip to the Great Wall, complete with your successful colleagues, where you will participate in team-building activities, share knowledge, and learn more about yourself." And that was about it for me; I knew I had to go.

China reminded me a lot of Thailand: actively developing. Some decent infrastructure exists (the Courtyard sported wireless Internet, approximately a 1km hike from the Great Wall), but there are key points that would strike a chord with the unacquainted: throwing away toliet paper rather than flushing it, as the pipes cannot support it. Beijing was busy and over-polluted; I left the airport terminal to find myself holding my breath. As the Olympics are slated for July 2008, the Chinese officials have a lot to do in a short time.

This trip made me think a lot about what it means to live in a "developed" country.

This evening, I left work (yes, I was at work on a Sunday, please forgive me) and returned home on the subway to do some errands. First, I stopped by the coffee shop (no, not a cafe, really, a coffee shop) and ordered 200 grams of Ethopian Mocha; they told me it would take 15 minutes to roast and grind, so I went over to the ATM, transferred money to the US (good exchange rates right now!), transferred money to the travel agent to pay the deposit for Yuiko and I's trip to Hong Kong in November, and then I went to the store to buy yogurt, cereal and jam.

I boiled a kettle while scooping 3 spoons' worth of freshly-ground coffee into my French coffee press, which is oddly made in Japan, not China, and I bought down the road at Tokyu Hands two weeks ago.

When I think about all of these things, the amount of production, coordination, and distribution that went into all of these little consumables, I realize just how easy I really have it. I truly lead a luxurious lifestyle, just by being here every day. It's a shame that most people don't pause to take a breath to realize how truly lucky we are.

But then again, needing all of these systems to sustain our normal lifestyle, are we really the lucky ones? Food for thought.

Back in Kyoto: Five years later Saturday May 26

The last time I was in Kyoto, Richard and I had a JR rail pass, and we were travelling as much of Japan as possible in a one-week period to get our money's worth out of that pass. We stayed out all night in a club in Shibuya, ate at the Yoshinoya in the morning (which I pass by nowadays very frequently), and then headed to the Shinkansen to catch the first train to Kyoto.

Waking up in Kyoto, we walked around, sweated to death in the summer heat and humidity, and got a feel for the place. Unable to stand the incessant travel any longer, I retreated to Kanazawa the next day. Now, five years later, I am in Kyoto again. This time, again, with Richard: he is getting married here.

Also, since it is May, the weather's not so bad.

Hopefully, now that I have a digital camera, I expect better pictures than last time around.

Golden Week: A brief return home? Tuesday May 8

I have no idea why Golden Week is called Golden Week. By some miracle, a couple public holidays and the former emperor's birthday all fell in the same week, so most everyone had last Monday, Thursday, and Friday off of work.

If you're going to bookend a three-day weekend with a four-day weekend, you might as well take the two days off in the middle and have a nine-day trip. When else can you take a nine-day trip with only two days off of work? Moreover, you're guaranteed no one else is doing anything during that time. This must be how Golden Week developed, but I am still at a loss for the name.

Yuiko invited me to go to Nagoya, or south of Nagoya, to stay with her grandmother for a few days. My plans looked bleak: the peak travel means that any trips outside of the country will cost thousands of dollars -- literally -- and a trip inside the country, alone, without my girlfriend wouldn't score me many points, either.

So I went. Have a look at the pictures.

It almost felt like home: I was away from the big city for awhile, and actually saw green things. I felt refreshed.

And this morning's train was as crowded as ever.

Shinkansen Saturday January 13

So, in December, I'm in the room with my manager and the president of my company, and at the end of my presentation, the president says I should go to our Osaka office and work with them on my project. I kept my game face on, but I really did want to go to Osaka, so it was a nice surprise.

It became a big week at work this week. First week back on the job after vacation, first week in a new position, and first business trip. First time really back on the bullet train this time in Japan.

Since I don't really talk about work on this blog, I'll instead leave you with a short video that I took on the train that attempts to give you an impression of just how damn fast that thing goes.

The whole world, scheming against me Sunday November 26

This morning I had a meeting scheduled for 11:30am at Kichijoji, which is about 30 minutes from my apartment.

At 11:30am this morning, though, I was just sitting down with a book to study for next week's Japanese language proficiency test. I had completely forgotten about the arrangement; I had failed to set a reminder task in our proprietary work software. This is my fault.

My phone rang at 11:42am, and the candidate was wondering why I wasn't there. I had a short freak-out moment, followed by a score of apologies, followed by a "do you still have time to meet in 30 minutes?" He said he would wait.

I had already showered (as of course, I would have made it to the meeting in plenty of time had I only remembered), and so I threw on something semi-presentable, and ran down to the station, looking up the train schedule on my phone at the time. There was a train at 11:50am and noon, it said. I wasn't going to make the 11:50am, so there was actually no need to rush.

Or was there?

I walked into the bakery at about 11:54am to buy breakfast so I wouldn't go to a meeting for coffee on an empty stomach. I have six minutes, and the station is right there, I thought. Mistake number one. Breakfast in hand, I walk over to the station, buy a ticket, and enter to find that the train doors have just shut. It is 11:58am. There is a conductor standing there, so I asked him why the train came early. He said that it didn't -- it was on schedule; he proceeded to show me the schedule as the train rolled out of the station. The next train would be in ten minutes.

The schedule on my phone was wrong. There was no way for me to know that, but if I hadn't insisted on breakfast, I would have made it. Mind you, at the best case scenario I was already going to be 45 minutes late (and arrive at 12:15pm).

There are actually two stations right next to each other in my neighborhood. One is part of the subway, and the other is part of a private train company. They meet up one station down the way, above ground, and one can transfer. I thought that maybe I could run to the subway quickly and "catch up" to the train I had just missed.

When I ran down towards the platform (which is two stories underground, no small feat), the train doors were just shutting. I wasn't going to make it there, either.

I ran up to Yamate-doori and looked for a cab. I had to transfer at Shimo-kitazawa, which actually, in terms of distance, is not that far from where I was. A quick five-minute cab right should "catch me up". Sure, 6 bucks is 6 bucks, but the guy was waiting!

My cab driver's name was not only "Miss Daisy", but he made a wrong turn and took me to the wrong station, taking an extra 2-3 minutes. Eventually, ten minutes later, we arrive at Shimo-kitazawa. I bolt into the station (underpaying the cabbie because he went the wrong way, but he was apologetic and accepted), run up the stairs, and run down to the platform.

The doors of the express had just shut.

Another express wouldn't come for 20 minutes. If I took the local, I'd get there first; the local takes 20 minutes.

So there I arrived, 12:44pm, when the original appointment was for 11:30am. And by some miracle of it all, the candidate was still waiting. I had called him from the taxi to explain where I was and that I should be there... uhm, in no time.

He had somewhere to be at 1:15pm, so we had a very short meeting. To make matters worse, while in line at the coffeeshop, he said, "I was out all night; I barely made it up to make it on time. I really didn't want to get out of bed this morning."

I was so frustrated at the world for not going "my way" that I went straight out after the meeting and bought a new rug for my room. I've needed a rug for under my computer chair for a long time now.

How to take the last train, get a seat, and wake up on time Monday June 12

Everyone who's ever lived in Japan knows about "the last train".

The inevitable, and oft-cursed shuuden. Perhaps you've even missed one before. Perhaps you've ridden one only to find yourself smushed against an alcohol-soaked salaryman. Perhaps you wanted to stay out longer, but had to leave the party early. Even if you've never experienced these delights, I've accumulated some tips for late-night Japanese commuter train travel to make your journey more pleasant.

I begin with the story of my last Saturday night. I was at an izakaya in Shinjuku at 11:23; I remember the time because I had just looked up the train schedule on my phone; to my surprise, I discovered that my last train was leaving in six minutes at 11:29. The station was only two blocks away, but I was still pretty sure I was going to miss the train and be forced to start calling friends in Tokyo proper for a place to crash.

When I arrived at the ticket machines, the lines were abominal. Fifteen, twenty people deep. And since most people had later trains than I, no one was really in a hurry; slow-walkers abound. It was a mess, and I was convinced I was done for. Yet, through some act of God, the train was running an unusual three minutes behind, and as I dashed up to the platform, the chime was signaling the closing doors... and he's safe. Lesson learned:

If you're going out in a major Tokyo center (Shibuya, Shinjuku, etc), and you plan on taking the last train, or the second to last train, or what have you, buy your return ticket before going out. Train tickets are valid for the same-day, so planning ahead doesn't cost you anything extra. This is also a nice self-protection against spending your train money on accident on one more drink.

After making this train, I had to transfer at Shinagawa to go down to Yokohama on the Keikyuu line. The last train leaves Shinagawa at midnight, and I arrived at 11:50. Plenty of time, but I'd experienced the "Shinagawa shuuden" once before on a weekend night: it was the most crowded train I had ever ridden on, and I had been squished, standing, between two salarymen who reeked of sake. Not the best way to spend the 40-minute ride home.

You've been out partying. You're tired, and just want to be home. So what's better than to go to sleep when you get on, and wake up when you need to get off? It's like time-space-travel. If you're like me, though, you can't sleep standing up. While many people have mastered this skill, I still believe everyone would prefer a seat. This is not foolproof, but here are my time-tested seat acquistion tricks:

The Strength-in-Numbers Attack

• Get there early.
  People queue up at the boarding locations beforehand, so if you have time to spare, wait for the next train so you can get pole position at the front of the line.
• Get far away from the stairwells.
  Move far away from the common stairwells to find a shorter queue. In many cases, other people use this trick too, so it might not always work.
• Strength in numbers.
  This trick is not friendly, nor polite, so use with discretion. When a near-empty train arrives (say, when that train originates at the station you're at), make sure you and all of your friends are at the same door. Then, the first person in the train when the doors swing open should go as far as possible to the next door down and sit down, thus "claiming" the seats to the close side of that person for your door. If you have two guys, one to sit, and one to run interference by standing in the middle of the car, this method works exceptionally well.
• Draft a good team.
  When you're alone, and can't use the above trick, make sure to join a line of winners. Don't get right behind an old woman with a cane and expect to get a seat. Remember, everyone is thinking the same thing you are, so you need to have every advantage on your side. Timing is huge.
• The U-Turn.
  This one is also a little dodgy; in some places, the train companies have specifically banned it. If you get on at a station that usually is very busy, try taking a train in the other direction to a less-crowded, more remote stop. Then, transfer to a train in the direction you originally wanted to go, easily finding a seat. Keep in mind that this varies based on route, and can also add at least fifteen minutes to your journey.

Congratulations. You have a seat. You're on your train, on time. Now take a nap and start catching up on the sleep you were already missing by being out so late. I can't help you fall asleep, but we'll assume you've got that covered. There's only one problem. Maybe you've been drinking a little bit, maybe you haven't, but it's late night, and you're a little worn out. Have you ever woken up all of a sudden, and think, "Whoa, is this my stop? Is this my stop? Where the hell am I?", only to find that you can't see out the window because the train is crowded? Save yourself the trouble:

When you get on the train, use your phone to find out when the train gets in to your station. Then, set your mobile phone's alarm for one-two minutes before your arrival. Make sure it's on vibrate mode; it's only good manners. Then, fall asleep with ease: your phone will wake you up right when you need to get ready to get off.

I wish you the best of luck. The Japanese people are very polite, but when it comes to train musical chairs, it's war, ladies and gentlemen. The exception you should mind is when there is someone who obviously needs a seat: someone on crutches, a pregnant woman, someone with some sort of immobility issue, or an elderly person. Luckily, you don't see too many of these types on the last train on a Saturday night.

Tools

• Eki-kara: Timetable and transfer information in Japanese

Fresh sushi at six-thirty Sunday May 7

Any guidebook of Tokyo is likely to list "the fish market" as a destination. Where else can you see a gigantic tuna auction? Where else can you eat fresher fish than where it's being sold? Sure, there are other fish markets around Japan, but Tokyo's tsukiji is famous in its own right. They're thinking of moving it, too; it's so close to Ginza that I'm sure the real estate is worth far more than the cultural heritage.

Anyhow, since the market starts before the regular world starts its day, you have to go very, very early if you want to catch the action (and the freshest fish). How convenient, then, that the club I went to on Friday night is just a ten-minute subway ride away? You'd almost think they planned it that way.

A classmate told everyone back in November about this great idea: since the trains don't run all night, you have to stay out until sunrise if you don't catch the last train. This is atari-mae, or just common sense, in Japan, but if you're going to stay out all night, why not end with fresh sushi?

Saturday morning. Six-twenty a.m. Waiting for the revolving sushi conveyor belt to start up. Let's have some more tea, I'm trying to fight off the urge to sleep. I hate to use this expression, because it's so tired, but it's also so true: only in Japan.

Takao-san Sunday April 23

This past Saturday, myself and some of the Center students went to a nearby mountain and climbed it. Sure, there are existing trails, and the whole affair is actually quite painless; it's nothing like climbing Mount Fuji (which I plan on doing early this summer).

Ari-sensei also went with us, so we were using Japanese the whole day. This seemed to amuse the passersby, watching two clearly-American people converse in Japanese as if it were nothing... Hill and I were also accosted by an old man; he said "hello" to us at first in English, but he was taken aback when we spattered back at him in Japanese. He then muttered something borderline indecent about Hill, but luckily for that man's life, she didn't hear him. Dirty old men.

Ashley seemed to enjoy my story about the awkward car situation a few weeks ago, so I'll elaborate more on what came of that. The family and I actually got along on decent terms, and since their daughter Kayuri is twenty-two, she and I hit it off pretty well; we decided we needed to get our friends together to do karaoke. I invited her out (you know, it's like in the States, give-and-take; you get invited, next time you invite) with us to climb the mountain. The bad news is that I didn't tell her we weren't taking the cable car and that we were actually planning on hiking it. Oops. We almost killed her, I think. She said after the fact that she had a good time, and we both conked out on the train on the way home.

But seriously, folks. It's not a big mountain. Totally a "yes, I'm in Japan" feeling. A cable car? We don't need no stinkin' cable car. My legs may have been shaking from exhaustion on the way down, but I didn't need no stinkin' cable car. It took an hour to get up. Yeah. The pictures are in the most recent pictures, which is a new feature I added recently. If you haven't checked it out yet, now's the time.

Today I went to a symposium at Keio University. Keio is an "Ivy League" school in Japan; coincidentally, it's also very close to Michael's apartment. My former Japanese teacher Toyosawa-sensei invited me; it was about the the practice of history. I'm not studying history, and let me add on that it was all in high-level academic Japanese. I understood most of the words; I just couldn't assemble them fast enough to catch everything. To add on to that, the symposium was critiquing a book that I hadn't read regarding the practice of oral history among Australian aborigines. Enough said. The fact that I understood anything was enough to elate me.

I'll say three things about it: (1) I met up with an old teacher, that was neat. (2) I can see how far I have to go yet on Japanese, certainly, and (3) there was a girl there, and man. There was a girl. Mmm-hmm. It was a good thing she was sitting behind me and off to the side, because if I had noticed her sooner I wouldn't have paid attention at all. You know, she had those kinda-thick-frame black glasses -- not to nerdy, though. Just the right touch of "I can calculate the square root of 23 to seven digits in my head", but an equally severe dosage of "I know how to have fun". There was an afterparty at the end of the symposium, but I had previously figured it was only going to be a bunch of crusty professors (who were, by all means, also there), so I didn't RSVP. Doh. Whatever. I happen to know that right now Dream Girl is writing in her blog about the dreamy dude sitting to the front and left of her.

I tell you, though, that's going to be an interesting part of going back to the States. There were about one hundred people in that room today, and I am willing to bet that more than half of them noticed me -- guys, girls, whatever. People. "I wonder why he is here?", they might think. "He looks like he's listening. I wonder how much he understands", "Ew, gaijin". And the like.

It's apparent wherever I go that due to my looks alone, I get a thought or two from people. Good thought or bad thought aside, people are wasting their brain cycles on me (when they could be busy computing the square root of 23 to seven decimals). When I go back to the States, though, I'm just some guy again. In a way, I'm looking forward to being ignored again. In another way, it'll be harder to start conversations with people. As it stands now, I always have something to talk about when I meet new people: where I'm from, etc.

Hong Kong & Thailand Highlights Sunday January 15

Let's hope that my return flight from Hong Kong isn't an omen for the coming year. It was rainy in the Kantou region today, so it was one of those landings where you don't know the ground is right there until it is, uhm, right there. That wouldn't have bothered the cabin passengers so much, I suppose, if they could have believed that the pilot did indeed know where the ground was.

We hit the ground so hard that a couple of the overhead panels (containing the lights, the seatbelt indicator lamps, and oxygen masks) popped out of place and dangled down in the row behind me. I think something went awry on the plane after the jolt, too; while we taxied normally, we had to be towed into final position at the gate.

Japan is cold, rainy, and windy right now. Nonetheless, it felt good to be "home". Living out of a suitcase for three weeks can be rough at times. Moreover, I don't like the feeling of not being able to understand anything, and in that sense, Japan was a welcome return. Just not the weather.

I'll skip the "we did this, we did that" of my trip; most of that can be seen through the photographs. However, there are a few larger thoughts that I want to address here, since no one picture can capture them effectively.

• Cantonese. Labeled possibly one of the world's most difficult languages to learn, this version of Chinese is spoken in southern China and Hong Kong. If I had only tried to learn it when I was surrounded by Cantonese-speaking people for three years straight during high school. What was I doing wasting my time chatting with Kaila and Melissa while peeling peapods? As a side note, Nancy's fake Cantonese-English accent is the best impression I've ever heard, but I suppose it's no contest because she speaks both.
• Group Travel. Our trip to Thailand was a group tour. Given that I knew nothing about Thailand and wanted a safe, secure way to see parts of it, it worked out well. Unfortunately, since you pay for a guided tour, the guides feel as though they must keep you busy 100% of the time in an effort to prove that they deserve your money. Couple this fact with the fact that it was a Chinese tour group. A bus full of Chinese people, and then Kevin and I not understanding a word that the guides were saying. I feel like I missed out on some explanations about Thai culture.
• Chinese Medicines. I don't want to hate on Chinese people, but I will say this: they love their medicines. This root cures this affliction, that food will solve this health problem. As such, since there are certain roots, barks, birds nests, and whatnot in Thailand that are cheaper than in Hong Kong, we stopped along the way every time we went somewhere long distance to have someone try to sell us health products in Cantonese.
• Thai Massage. Obviously, I didn't take any pictures of this, but I got the best two-hour full body massage ever. In the middle of said massage I had to get up and wash off the exfoliate they used...in a bath topped with fresh rose petals. Now that's what I'm talking about.
• Hong Kong. Hong Kong is an amazing place. It's definitely not that large, and the result is that everyone builds up. Near the equator, it does not really have an earthquake concern. I stayed in a sixty-three story condo building. Despite the bustling city center, you can easily take a bus to one of the beaches on the far side of Hong Kong island -- the beaches are free, the buses cost about a dollar (USD), and you can see the beauty that attracted people there in the first place. When I have a good fifty million to spare, I'll pick up a condo on the shore.

Anyway, I'm sure there's a lot more that I could say. If you're interested, send me an e-mail; I'll tell you more about whatever you ask.

Winter Holiday Saturday December 24

Interesting pictures, stories, and news are likely to follow when I return from my travels to Kanazawa, Hong Kong, and Thailand over the next three weeks. I can't guarantee that I'll be able to update as I go, and I probably won't even take my laptop as far as Hong Kong, so please be patient while this site's content stagnates for a period.

I hope that everyone enjoys their family this holiday season -- please do so for my benefit, if for no other reason.

My family and friends: you know I love you all, thank you for the words of encouragement and support you offer me on a regular basis. It keeps me going when I feel lonely here.

Iida Tuesday October 4

This weekend I went to Iida to see Naomi. I saw Naomi, but it ended up being a lot more than that. Everyone in Naomi's family save her mother seemed to think at first that I was her boyfriend. After the first dinner, I cleared all that up; I also cleared up the fact that I could hold my own in Japanese, and that talking about whether or not I was Naomi's boyfriend in front of me was probably not a good idea.

I say that it "ended up being a lot more than that". What I mean is that the reason Naomi herself went to Iida all the way from LA is that her grandfather died two years ago, and it was time for the yearly ceremony to remember him. In the Buddhist tradition, it's called a houji. I had figured that I would simply walk around the town and explore during those times as not to get in the way, but after I arrived I quickly discovered that I was to be included in the ceremony.

I think this is because everyone thought that I was Naomi's boyfriend. Regardless, in the end, it all worked out. Those of you who may know Naomi probably can understand why some think that we date; we are close, and we have been for almost five years. In Japan, moreso than in the States, it's not as common for a guy to have such close female friends he is not dating.

Anyway, I could go into detail about what the houji was like, but I think that it's better left unsaid unless someone is specifically curious. What I was looking at -- from the anthropological standpoint -- is not what the ceremony was, but why it was important to these people. How can I connect these needs and wants to the needs and wants of people I know well, Americans?

How can I start to understand the world as a whole unit that is full of people who just happen to live in different places with the same needs, and thus have different methods of attaining those needs?

That is ultimately what I seek to understand, and that is a large reason I am interested in Japan. It is a strange mixture of the East and the West, and at the same time, often unique. By observing how people in these circumstances create, desire, and fulfill their own needs, I can hopefully better understand how people, in general, do the same.

It was great to see Naomi, but admittedly strange to put one of my close friends in the middle of a Japanese family. Something I had never really thought of...

Naomi Tuesday September 27

Naomi's coming this week for some family-related affairs, so I'm excited; I'll be headed up to Nagano this weekend to see her. Apparently, she may come back to Yokohama with me. Funny, in a way. She's the one who's mom is Japanese, and I'll be the one communicating for the both of us.

Anyone else want to come to Japan? American is offering $385 round trip from Chicago to Nagoya between October 5th and October 12th.

I wouldn't call it 'homesickness', but Thursday September 15

I knew for certain before I left that there would be periods where I'd miss certain things about home. Now is one of those times. I wouldn't call it 'homesickness', but I'm sure the symptoms are the same. I explained it to Michael this way last weekend: in Champaign, I "knew" everything.

You want good Thai food? Oh, man, I know like three places. Never buy produce at Schnucks unless you have to, and if you have to, make sure to go early in the week before all the eggplants have overripened. Need a bike fixed? Todd used to live above this crazy dude who fixes bikes cheap, but the key is to take a pretty girl with you so he does it on the spot instead of making you wait. The Green bus' last trip to downtown is at 11:23 from Coler and Green Streets. I'm sure you know what I mean. These are the bits, coupled with all of the people I regularly saw and met along the way, that make 'home', well, home. Everyone knows that Crane Alley has half-priced pool on Wednesday, right?

Now, even if I moved within the continental United States, I'd have to start over again. However, the rate at which I could acquire such information would be significantly faster than I can here, and using the English language would enable me to make new friends faster.

Facing the language barrier setback, I have had difficulty as of yet making Japanese friends, and I'm still getting used to the way everything is done here. I shouldn't say 'language barrier'. It's not a concrete wall, but a new friend would have to have some patience with me. They'd have to want to make the friendship work. Oh, that makes sense now -- I guess that's why everyone jokes that I should just get a girlfriend.

Right, let me run down to the convenience store and pick one out. Wait, I like that one, no, no wait -- how much extra do I have to pay for this relationship to actually be an emotionally worthwhile endeavor? Oh. Right. Well, thanks anyway.

I suppose that really only leaves one course of action, which is to remove the language setback entirely. This is a difficult goal, but it's what I'm here to do. I guess it's back to studying. In the meantime, though, I did find a great ramen shop, but it's not that cheap.

I move in this weekend. Pictures to come on Monday or Tuesday.

In Japan Monday August 29

Well, I successfully made it to Japan. Certainly, that doesn't sound like it should be a difficult thing; it's the matter of getting on an airplane and flying, but you see, my family seems to have this problem with (a) getting on planes and (b) losing things. These two things do not mesh well while travelling.

Cross reference today, when I left my wallet on the plane, and let my suit on the train. No, it's only coincidence that those things rhyme, but it's no coincidence at all that I got them back. Riho has my back.

Riho and I worked together in New York City three years ago, and she met me at the airport today. Quite a long trip, actually -- it takes two hours from where she lives. It was awfully nice of her, so the best I could do was buy dinner. I got my first taste of Japan being expensive, because it is, but yeah. I needed to buy her dinner for all the time she spent helping me out today.

Okay, enough for now. Just to let you know I'm here, and all is well.

And, I had a great conversation over dinner. I'm getting comfortable with Riho, so it's enabling me to just rattle off Japanese as I think of it, as opposed to trying to sculpt it in my head (read: not the right way to learn a language intrinsically).

Financial Markets Sunday August 14

I have a significant amount of capital saved up for my time in Japan. Of course, I don't mention this to "show off" -- it makes sense that I must have a year's worth of money saved up when I can't legally work on my Japanese visa.

I've started to learn, frustratingly, however, that the value of money is relative in global terms. The US Dollars that I have are only valuable relative to other world currencies: this is obvious to most, but because a dollar still buys what it did last week at the coffee shop, we usually don't think about these things.

When I was in Japan three years ago, one dollar bought 125 yen. Now, one dollar buys 109 yen. Last week, even, it was 112. Certainly, it has been a rollercoaster: earlier this year the yen was changing to dollars at a rate of 104.

All of these factors are based on the supply and demand of the currency, which is based mostly on speculations of future performance of those markets. And now, I'm sitting on all of these dollars, wondering myself whether they're losing value as I type, and whether I should have them in yen instead.

What I have decided to do is choose a price-point. I am a conservative investor; i.e., I cannot afford to speculate on the resurgence of the dollar against the yen, despite some suggestion that a weaker dollar compared to the Euro will fuel exports, reducing the trade deficit, and thus strengthening the dollar against other currencies, including the yen.

Rather, I can only afford to speculate to a point. If the dollar drops to 108 yen, only one yen on the dollar, I "lose" $120 of value from my investment (compared to if I had converted to yen when it was 109). That's a tough cookie to bake -- because if it goes to 112 again, I "make" $360.

My solution to all of this currency market hullaboo is to pick 108 as my price point, and even if it surges to 130 after dropping to 104, at least I'll never have to deal with the idea that I'm losing money I can't afford to lose. Rather, I will miss the opportunity to make money. Not such a bad thought when you remember that because you were conservative, you can eat.

I saw the first of the following two Mark Twain quotes on Rick's door at his office.

• There are two times in a man's life when he should not speculate: when he can't afford it and when he can.
• October. This is one of the peculiarly dangerous months to speculate...Other dangerous months are July, January, September, April, November, May, March, June, December, August and February.

If I really want to feel better about all of this, I'll look to Benjamin Franklin:

If a man empties his purse into his head no one can take it away from him. An investment in knowledge always pays the best interest.

Oh, That's Funny Tuesday August 9

The other day I was telling some friends about how spartan my living situation in Japan will be:

"I'm just going to have a bicycle, a rice cooker, and an apartment. That's it."

"What's her name?"

"Huh?"

I didn't get it.

"The rice cooker," they said.