It's GOLDEN WEEK (Japan's big springtime national vacation week), and I'm writing this as I overpack for my trip.
Tomorrow morning, I'm hopping on the bullet train to Osaka with Liza and Jill.
Be back on Saturday.
spring break! woooo!
Monday, April 30, 2007
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Cherry blossoms from a few weeks ago:
Random graffiti:
My new hair, courtesy of the miraculous (and expensive) Japanese Straight Perm:
And for your viewing pleasure, one of the more wacked-out Japanese music videos that I've seen recently:
At this point, I've finally gotten good enough at Japanese to be able to say "Yeah, I can speak Japanese." It's taken three and a half years, and I've still got a long way to go, but...well, yeah, I'm pretty decent. On that note, 95% of people who call themselves "bilingual" are 100% full of shit. That's an official statistic.
I had never thought about it before tonight, but the polite Japanese word for "bathroom" actually translates to "honorable place of hand-washing."
And now that Japanese TV makes semi-sense, all sorts of doors are opening. Last night, I watched "Ainori" ("Meeting Ride," better translated as "Hookup Road Trip") followed by a comedy show in which a group of Japanese celebrities try to solve puzzles.
Among the gags:
Hot tea being poured on a guy's crotch. ("It hurts, it hurts!")
A skinny guy going behind a screen to be replaced by a fat guy in the same outfit ("I'm surprised!")
One guy being served nothing but burnt food at a traditional banquet. ("It's burnt!")
A squat Japanese guy jumping around in a loincloth, a necklace made of horns, a curly black wig, and white-painted lips. ("OogaBooga!")
Oh, Japan.
Random graffiti:
My new hair, courtesy of the miraculous (and expensive) Japanese Straight Perm:
And for your viewing pleasure, one of the more wacked-out Japanese music videos that I've seen recently:
At this point, I've finally gotten good enough at Japanese to be able to say "Yeah, I can speak Japanese." It's taken three and a half years, and I've still got a long way to go, but...well, yeah, I'm pretty decent. On that note, 95% of people who call themselves "bilingual" are 100% full of shit. That's an official statistic.
I had never thought about it before tonight, but the polite Japanese word for "bathroom" actually translates to "honorable place of hand-washing."
And now that Japanese TV makes semi-sense, all sorts of doors are opening. Last night, I watched "Ainori" ("Meeting Ride," better translated as "Hookup Road Trip") followed by a comedy show in which a group of Japanese celebrities try to solve puzzles.
Among the gags:
Hot tea being poured on a guy's crotch. ("It hurts, it hurts!")
A skinny guy going behind a screen to be replaced by a fat guy in the same outfit ("I'm surprised!")
One guy being served nothing but burnt food at a traditional banquet. ("It's burnt!")
A squat Japanese guy jumping around in a loincloth, a necklace made of horns, a curly black wig, and white-painted lips. ("OogaBooga!")
Oh, Japan.
Sunday, April 08, 2007
I haven't written in a while because I've been busy. Here's the rundown:
Because it's new contract time at my company, all the teachers have various trainings at headquarters, which often end with a group trip to The Hub for drinks. On top of that, the King George is a short walk from my apartment. Sometimes my life seems to fall into an exhausting cycle of "work-bar-sleep-repeat."
Also, for the last couple weeks, it's been cherry blossom season in Japan, which means more frolicking and less computer time. The weather is gorgeous, and the trees have exploded into beautiful pink-white flowers, which send petals drifting down like snow as you're walking around. It's amazing. During these two weeks or so, Japanese people travel en masse to parks, where they lay down blue tarps and picnic all day and into the night. This also involves heavy drinking.
[Japanese people and their drinking - proof that yes, it is possible to be simultaneously really good at something and really bad at something.]
I'll put up some cherry-blossom pictures later.
Last night was Graham's birthday celebration, and a bunch of us went barhopping in Ikebukuro. Around midnight (the point of no return), I had the choice between catching my last train and staying out all night, and chose the latter. But all the old-timers decided to go home around 2, and since I hate sleeping in unfamiliar apartments, I dragged Lori to Shinjuku where we would merrymake until our first morning trains. In our effort to find A club, ANY club, we ran across two dudes from Senegal who took us to a Kabuki-cho dive called Key Club.
[Don't worry, I kept my wits about me, as I tend to maintain the assumption that all foreign men are con-artists]
Oh, early-90's hip-hop. Some guy named Ryuuta took a liking to me, but I'm not sure if I'm really meant to be with a dude who wears a vest (we're talking Fresh Prince here).
So we stayed there for a couple hours, then went back out into the harsh morning sun and got some ramen with our new African friend Francis. The end.
There's your update. Now it's time for me to go watch mass amounts of illegally distributed American TV shows (The Office - yay!)
Keep it real, y'all.
Because it's new contract time at my company, all the teachers have various trainings at headquarters, which often end with a group trip to The Hub for drinks. On top of that, the King George is a short walk from my apartment. Sometimes my life seems to fall into an exhausting cycle of "work-bar-sleep-repeat."
Also, for the last couple weeks, it's been cherry blossom season in Japan, which means more frolicking and less computer time. The weather is gorgeous, and the trees have exploded into beautiful pink-white flowers, which send petals drifting down like snow as you're walking around. It's amazing. During these two weeks or so, Japanese people travel en masse to parks, where they lay down blue tarps and picnic all day and into the night. This also involves heavy drinking.
[Japanese people and their drinking - proof that yes, it is possible to be simultaneously really good at something and really bad at something.]
I'll put up some cherry-blossom pictures later.
Last night was Graham's birthday celebration, and a bunch of us went barhopping in Ikebukuro. Around midnight (the point of no return), I had the choice between catching my last train and staying out all night, and chose the latter. But all the old-timers decided to go home around 2, and since I hate sleeping in unfamiliar apartments, I dragged Lori to Shinjuku where we would merrymake until our first morning trains. In our effort to find A club, ANY club, we ran across two dudes from Senegal who took us to a Kabuki-cho dive called Key Club.
[Don't worry, I kept my wits about me, as I tend to maintain the assumption that all foreign men are con-artists]
Oh, early-90's hip-hop. Some guy named Ryuuta took a liking to me, but I'm not sure if I'm really meant to be with a dude who wears a vest (we're talking Fresh Prince here).
So we stayed there for a couple hours, then went back out into the harsh morning sun and got some ramen with our new African friend Francis. The end.
There's your update. Now it's time for me to go watch mass amounts of illegally distributed American TV shows (The Office - yay!)
Keep it real, y'all.
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