My fourth Japan Journal, sent on or about June 19, 1995. 

Japan Journal #4

Another week, another Journal entry. . .

Cancer sticks everywhere

People here smoke. It drives me crazy. I hate smoke. And I'm very lucky, in that there's no smoking (that I've been able to detect) in the dorm that I live. I’m also fortunate that smoking is permitted in only designated areas at work. Unfortunately, one such designated area is a few meters from my desk, and despite the "very efficient air filters" that surround the place, my eyes invariably start to water each afternoon. Blah. There is (thank goodness!) no smoking on trains, but everyone makes up for it by smoking double-duty while walking to/from the station, while waiting on the platform, etc. And you want a non-smoking section in a restaurant? HAAHAHAHA!!! Silly, naive foreigner... (not that I would ever make such a blunder. Who, sophisticated, cultured, world-wise me? Well, okay, maybe once...)

And everyone smokes. There’s smoking advertising on billboards, in magazines, on trains, and there's even cigarette vending machines. "Nice day, nice smoking."

There’s also beer vending machines. Can you imagine what would happen if there were beer vending machines in Canada? The ones that weren’t vandalized by drunkards wanting a free drink would disappear within hours of being set up and mysteriously appear in some university student's dorm room. (The ultimate in cool: your own beer dispenser. What's that? You want a Canadian? *punch* there you go. Oh, your friend prefers Labatt Ice? *elbow* At your service, madam. Help yourself.) No, I don’t think either type of vending machine would last long in Canada...

The Japan Diet

I haven't stopped on a scale recently, but I can tell I've lost a bit of weight since I've arrived here. I have to buckle my belt one notch tighter than I did when in Canada, and my pants are still looser.

But it only stands to reason. I mean, look at what I am consuming. No sugars, few fats, no snacks, no desserts. (And no chocolate!! ARGHI I'm suffering major withdrawal.) My diet has completely changed, and even after three weeks I can identify only about 75% of the things I put into my mouth. And since meals are a fixed size (aside from rice, which comes in infinite quantities), I am consuming less.

And I've lost weight. What a surprise.

Aside: One of the first things I did when I came back from Israel was go to a Harvey's and have a superburger, hotdog, fries onion rings, and a milkshake. Then I went to visit my grandfather at his golf club and had a full breakfast- bacon, eggs, toast, and hashbrowns. I went out with some friends that night and had wings, garlic bread, and a chocolate sundae *simultaneously*. I was in Israel for four weeks. I wonder what I'll have a craving for when I return from Japan...

Zen Fish

On Thursday we had two fish for dinner at the dorm. Let me make that absolutely clear – two fish. With scales, eyes, tails, and teeth. I almost expected it to flop about on my plate. It turns out they were cooked though. But how does one eat?

I've become fairly adept with chopsticks. But after 45 minutes of struggling through skin, bones, and unidentified fish parts, trying to eat only those pans deemed fit for human consumption, I had managed to get through one-third of one fish. At this rate, I would be finished in time for breakfast. I was continuously picking out bones. Then I would eat that small part, and nearly choke on the two bones I missed.

Then a Japanese man sits beside me. He effortlessly splits the skin with his chopsticks, and lifts the spine of the fish at the tail and in one stroke removes about 97%, of the creature’s skeleton. Within *5* minutes the entire fish was gone, and he moved on to the second one. And I didn’t see him choke on a single bone.

I looked at my own plate and simply lost heart. I went to bed a bit hungry that night.

Maybe, just maybe, by the time I leave here, I will master the Fish Zen technique of eating.

(Or maybe the Japanese have learned how to swallow fish bones and not gag.)

Japanese Media

The TV is always on in the dining room of my dorm. So twice a day, while I eat, I watch whatever charnel is on (not that I understand any of it– see below).

NOTE: There will never be a television in the kitchen or dining room of any house of mine. Never.

I have come to the following conclusions about Japanese media based on my subjective impressions, virtual complete non-comprehension, and decidedly non-random sampling:

1. Japanese game show hosts really enjoy abusing their contestants. I've seen contestants put into embarrassing situations, really bizarre settings, and once a host threw a (foam? plastic?) hammer across the stage and smacked a poor fellow right in the nose. One contestant looked like a sumo wrestler. (Maybe he was.) He was treated with the utmost respect. Weird. 
2. The Aum cult (accused of being behind the sarin attacks) leader is more "popular" than Elvis and OJ combined. This guy’s photo appears on the front page of every paper, every day, and every newscast has a file photo that they show at least once every time I've watched a show. I'm not sure if there's any new news or not, but I’m sure the guy's third-grade substitute teacher has been interviewed by someone...
3. Japanese television advertising = a Dali painting given motion. The stuff is just insane. I play a game where I try to figure out what product is being advertised before the final camera shot gives it away. I inevitably lose.

You know how sometimes your dreams consist of a hodgepodge of random images that make no coherent sense but force themselves upon your (sub)conscious and everything happens so fast you can't catalog it all or even remember what the hell was going on and you wake up and you’re almost out of breath?

That's a Japanese commercial. Maybe it makes more sense if you understand the language, but somehow I rather doubt it.

They're dangerous to my brain first thing in the morning. I tend to mutter to myself a lot during breakfast.

On language

I have spent twenty-two years working damn hard to be able to express myself in a coherent, articulate manner. I take pride in my ability to communicate any idea I have to others. It is a skill that I have worked on for a long, long time, and I believe it (among other aspects of my personality) sets me apart from many of my peers.

Here, I have yet to achieve the level of an idiot. The frustration and anger I feel is very potent. T cannot STAND it when someone tells me how much something is, and I ask them to repeal it, twice, and then it takes me another ten seconds to parse and understand. I am infuriated (with myself) when I am reduced to saying, ”How much this?” or "Went. Uh. Yesterday-- there. Saw, um, places. Not buy."

I *hate* feeling incompetent. I don’t feel that at work, say, even though I don’t know much about my project (yet)-- I'm learning. But when I tried this morning to buy stamps for postcards and wanted to ask how much it was to send a postcard overseas and I couldn't– I wanted to ram my head through a brick wall.

I was told that once I got to Japan, and was immersed in the language, I would pick it up much more quickly than I would in Canada studying on my own (or in Vancouver). It's been three weeks, and the only thing I've managed to pick up is a cold virus. (Which has since been defeated by the noble white blood cells of my immune system. Three cheers! Huzzah.)

Friday Night Excitement

Not that I had any planned. No meal is served Friday evening at the dorm, so I’m forced to venture out into the Real World. (Something I haven’t seen much of-- my weekday schedule consists of Wake up, go to work, return to dorm, go to sleep. Repeat.) I hop on the bus from work and realize several minutes later that I do not recognize any of the scenery around me.

The bus makes its final stop about fifteen minutes later in the middle of nowhere. I think it was a hospital parking lot. I could be mistaken. I have no idea where I am.

So I decide to walk for a while. Still nowhere. And it looks like there’s a lot of nowhere looming ahead. I figured that this meant I was going nowhere fast, and should consider changing my approach.

A kind cashier at a 24 hour convenience store told me to catch a bus at the stop directly across the road. Fine. I get on, and at the end of the line is a train station. Right idea, but it's the wrong line. Think of it as needing a Via rail train and landing at a GO station. Oops.

After many misadventures (buying a ticket for the wrong train, waiting close to an hour for a bus that never appeared, asking directions of different folks and completely not understanding the answers, nodding and smiling and thanking them for the effort), I finally have the good fortune to meet a Japanese woman who read my expression (which probably closely mirrored my feeling at the time of resigned despair) as something other than "foreigner happily wandering aimlessly around bus depot", and gave me directions, in English, on how to get to a train station on the Keikyu line (the one I wanted).

My brains being a bit addled, I didn't understand her even then (though her English was very good). So she walked me to the station. Bless her heart, I may never have gotten back to the dorm without her. (Not that I’ll ever see her again. It was just such a nice thing to do.)

In all, it took four hours to get from work to dorm.

Pretty exciting stuff eh?

Beer beer beer beer wonderful beer

Yep, Saturday was a beer fest. I will not, and I steadfastly, absolutely, under all circumstances refuse to consider calculating how much I spent on Saturday night on said substance. And that’s in yen. I refuse even more so to convert that into dollars. But I had fun.

There were about 30-odd people that showed up to the gathering, of which I knew one: me. So I introduced myself to a bunch of people (the person that invited me, did so over e-mail, and was quite surprised to discover that I am male), and spent a pleasant evening chatting and drinking and making new friends. If I play my cards right, I may have even found a Japanese tutor. Yay!

Amongst other folks, I was talking to someone who went to Mac, lived on King St., and was "about a 4-iron’s distance from the Medical Centre." For those who don't know Hamilton, this is VERY close to my home, and I know the area quite well. It is amazing how refreshing it was to be able to discuss Hamilton landmarks. 

It was a gorgeous night. A bunch of us left the pub that was getting a bit crowded and too loud for easy conversation, and went to an outdoor bar with a rooftop patio. We sat outside, sat and chatted and drank and laughed and I just caught the last train back. I made a few friends, received a few offers to show me around Tokyo (which I intend to gratefully accept in coming weeks), and overall had a pretty good time.

And I will not consider how much I spent. Not for a second...

Everything is open on Sunday

Sunday I spent in Yokohama Just looking around. There's no silly restrictions about Sunday shopping here. In fact, from the look of things, it’s the prime day to do so. I toured shopping malls, outdoor sidewalk vendors, department stores, pachinko parlours (that's another thing I don’t understand yet), video arcades (at 100 yen a pop!), restaurants and fast food joints... just touring.

Of course, I forgot my camera But that's okay. Yokohama will be there next week.

I decided not to do the Disneyland thing because, well, when you hear reports that a place is extremely crowded, and this is by Japanese standards, I figured it would be a good idea to wait a while. (The Electrical Light Parade, or whatever, is ending soon at Tokyo Disneyland, so people are flocking to catch it before it departs forever. I saw it at the California site, so I'm quite willing to forgo seeing it here.)

And that’s about it.

Until next time,

Leslie