A Quiet House

When I first arrived in Japan, my host family consisted of just my sister and parents. My brother had his own wife and kid in Kawasaki, and soon after I met them, I found out that they were expcting their second child. After some time, I came to find out about the custom of 産前産後, where pregnant women go to their parents home for the last month of their pregnancy, and for another month after birth in order to support her with as little stress as possible. Yumi's parents live all the way in Ibaraki prefecture, and Yusuke wouldn't be able to commute that far. We live a 15 minute train ride from his office in Shinjuku, and we have plenty of room, so it seemed like a no-brainer. And just like that, my family doubled in size.

For over two months, I got to experience raising children by proxy. Their two-year old, Haruto, is a delight and a terror. The times I spent with him were always enlightening and entertaining. When I first met him he barely spoke at all, but he's made so much progress, he's speaking full sentences and really it's a challenge to get him to shut up! On more than one occasion I got to spend some quality time watching him for Yumi. He just entered the terrible twos, but I think he's better behaved than most children I see running pell-mell over their parents back home. I feel a little confused though, because now that I've seen children raised in Japanese, I have no idea how I would do it in English! Regardless, it's been a priceless experience, just long enough to enjoy, but just short enough to not become a hassle. Being here for the whole process is a pretty rare experience for an exchange student, so I feel that I really lucked out.

So why am I writing all this? Because today was the end of their stay with us. Ayano is now big enough to leave the house, and Yumi has also recovered from giving birth for the most part. I had work this afternoon, so I wasn't able to see them off, but I got up early enough to have breakfast with everyone (usually I don't get up too early, but today was special), and play a bit with Haruto before I had to get into my monkey suit and get to stepping. Before I left, I held Ayano for the first time (to be honest, I'm scared of babies), and posed with Haruto for a photo. Afterwards, I had to go off to work, and it was at that point that Haruto realized that he wasn't going to see me again for a while. He started to wail, and he apparently cried all the way back to Kawasaki. I reassured him that I'd see him again, but he could not be consoled. It was kind of sweet that we had built such a bond in such little time. When we first met, he totally shied away from me, but now, he was shedding tears when I left. Maybe it was just that he realized that he wasn't going to see Yukiko or Okaasan either for a while, but it was touching that I was the catalyst for his little outpour. I look forward to the next time they come over to play.

Teaching English...

So, one of the reasons I haven't been posting much lately is because I landed a job at Gaba teaching English. I'm sure you remember my prior escapade trying to get my work permit. After finally obtaining the permit, I had to go through a three day training period, where a friendly guy named Gareth walked me through the processes of being a Gaba teacher, along with a ragtag group of other would-be teachers. It's interesting how diverse the prospective teachers were; Americans, British, and a smattering of other nationalities including Malaysian, Nepalese, and even a French man with a very thick accent. We spent our time going over the policies and methods of teaching "the Gaba way." The training helped me realize that I already had the knowledge necessary to become a teacher, but what I was really lacking was the confidence to sit in front of a stranger and assume the role. No amount of training could take the place of real-world experience, so all I had left was to jump into the thick of things and just teach.

But I was still apprehensive. I'd been assigned to the Shinjuku learning studio, which is the largest and busiest school in the company, with the most diverse group of students. Daunting is probably the word I'm searching for. I went my first day to meet the managers and get some "fourth day training." When I was done I sat in an empty booth, straining to listen to the lessons next door, but ultimately, the buzz of dozens of conversations drowned out any useful tips i might have picked up. I resigned myself to deciding my schedule, and turned for home. Tomorrow, the real work would begin.

Although I was anxious about teaching, I found myself excited about starting my work. My first client was late, but once he showed up, it was game on. The moments preceding the lessons were laced with doubt and apprehension, but as soon as the student walked into my booth, I forgot all that and I went into a sort of educational autopilot. I apparently absorbed the material from training quite effectively. As I gained experience, I was able to prepare for the lessons in less and less time. Before I know it, the evening is over, and I've finished my first day. Teaching isn't as difficult or boring as I thought. My students are interesting people with a variety of opinions, and I enjoy helping them.

That day was now a month past. Many lessons taught, many faces forgotten. Through the sea of students, I have learnt a number of lessons to help me improve my teaching methods. I've observed myself in lessons and identified my weak points; talking more than the student and time management stand out as the most difficult things to work on. Whereas a traditional teaching method might call fro a teacher to lecture the student, conversation schools put the emphasis on speaking practice. My socratic methods might be useful for teaching actual topics and subjects, but they aren't quite so effective in language acquisition. I'm taking the title too seriously; I might be able to teach them something new, but these are smart people. They already have opinions, they just need my help learning how to express them. I need to remember that.

A Cruel Joke?

I'm numb. There's no way this could have happened.

I have no idea how it's come to this. I've been hassled by the cops before but it's never gone this far. This could be really bad...

I went to hanami earlier tonight, to view the sakura that are in full bloom. The park is just a 10-15 minute walk from here, so I didn't take my wallet with me. I was almost to the park, walking through a narrow side-street, when I smelled smoke. It had been so long since I last smelled it, I almost didn't recognize what it was. Then a Japanese kid, about 18 or so, approached me with a purple haze billowing around him, and asked if I wanted any "medicince."

I told him no thanks, but no sooner had I walked past him that I was almost blinded by a flashlight. I instinctively raised my hands and covered my face, and a gruff voice told me (in Japanese) to stop where I was, and to keep my hands in plain view. I didn't understand everything that was being said, but I certainly understood what was going on.

I tried to explain that I was just passing through, and that I had never met the Japanese kid before, but I think the young punk figured that he could get off the hook by offering up a nice juicy foreigner to the cops to chew on. He started calling me by a made-up first name (Jack) and saying that we hung out all the time. I tried to refute his claims, but I didn't have my wallet on me, which means I didn't have my gaijin registration card, which is a crime in and of itself. The cop swallowed his story and focused their attention on me. Even though I had no drugs or anything on me, and was obviously not intoxicated in any way, they were dead-set on taking me down to the station.

A lot of things kept running through my head; I've heard horror stories about foreigners who had been framed and gotten deported for drug posession, or been held captive for hours on end for no reason other than to scare them into confessing to a crime they hadn't committed. I had just finished reading an article about how foreign victims and witnesses of major crimes were marginalized by the police. I couldn't let this happen to me. I panicked.

I ran.

I positioned the teenage punk between myself and the cop, escalating my voice to unintelligible obscenities, then I turned and bolted. I sprinted down the alley and ran up and over a pedestrian walkway. There was no crosswalk, so the walkway was the only way to get across the intersection. The climb slowed the cop down enough that I got down the stairs and darted into another narrow street. I ran for all I was worth, and didn't even bother to look back. I weaved in and out of alleys, eventually making my way back to familiar territory. I had no wind left in my lungs, but I could still feel the hot breath of the patrolman on the back of my neck, bearing down on me like a bounty hunter.

My heart stopped every time I saw flashing lights, but I seemed to be in the clear. They didn't have my name, just a dark face in an unlit alleyway; a glint in a flashlight beam. But still, I cannot breathe. My heart is going to burst out of my chest. I stopped at the river bridge and dry heaved over the side for a few minutes. Pedestrians walked by, ignoring me, probably thinking I was just one of the drunks that had just come from hanami. No one but I knew what almost had me throwing up over the bridge. I finally regained my composure, and realized that I needed to get inside and lay low for a while.

I took a semi-direct route back home, unsure of whether it was more important to get home quickly or surrepticiously. I snuck back in and locked all the locks on the door, wiping the cold sweat from my eyes. I snuck upstairs and pretended to go to bed. I didn't know what to say to my host family; I don't know if there is anything to say. What happens if the police come knocking on the door? I'm a prisoner in my own room, but I still might have to face the consequences for my panicked decision. I don't know what to do, or who to tell. I'm writing this entry partly as a confession, and also as an exoneration. I made a bad decision, but at the time, I felt like it was the only thing I could do. I'm scared.

I'm on the verge of tears as I type this. It's getting late. I glance nervously at the clock. I made it, it's still April 1st.

How to get work in Japan

So, you've made it to Japan as an exchange student; congratulations! After spending a little while here, you've probably come to the revelation that living in a foreign country without an income can be a huge drain on your resources. At this point, you get the bright idea to get a part time job. After all, your visiting student visa should allow up to 14 hours a week. So let's start job hunting!

Not so fast, cowboy. Just because you can work on a student visa, doesn't mean you can just start right away! You need to get special permission stamped into your passport, or more specifically, "Permission to engage in activity other than that permitted under the status of residence previously granted," from the Immigration Bureau of Japan. They've got translators working overtime on these document names.

Japan loves its bureaucracies, and there is none that is seemingly more ridiculous or convoluted than the Immigration Bureau. When I had to get my re-entry permit for my trip to Taiwan, I had my first encounter with with Bureau, and found myself wondering just why the office is over 20 minutes away from the nearest station, surrounded by nothing but factories and industrial complexes. I also wondered why it's in Shinagawa, practically on the opposite side of the city from Shinjuku, where the main government buildings reside. What's even more confusing is that there's a lot of paperwork that apparently runs between the bureau and these other administrative offices, which places unnecessary strain on the postal couriers and also adds wasted processing time. Surely it's been put there for a good reason, other that simply making a hassle for foreigners to get anything done, right?

But I digress.

Teaching English is the best paying and most common job that foreigners take. I've heard stories about people who were late to their interviews, made basic grammar and vocabulary mistakes in their resumes, and have had absolutely no work experience. They were all called back and offered jobs. There's a saying amongst foreigners here, that the only two requirements to get hired as an English teacher is a necktie and a pulse. Getting a job here isn't a matter of qualifications, it's all about paperwork.

So where were we? Ah that's right, you wanted to work. Well, you're already in Japan, so you don't need to go through all the hassle of finding a school to sponsor your visa or anything. Should be a piece of cake. A few of your friends have started working at an eikaiwa (English conversation school) called Gaba. This school has a lot going for it, but by far the best thing about this particular school is that you can set your own schedule via the internet. The only problem, it seems, is that they're absolutely sticklers for paperwork.

So you go to an info session at your friend's behest, after blowing several hundred on suits and shoes to look presentable. You look sharp, and you stand out above the rest of the interviewees in the group, some of whom are dressed for less than success, and speak less than stellar English. What separates them from you, however, is that they will get called back, because they already have work permits! After finishing the info session, and destroying the test they set before you, they quickly show you the door, telling you that you are certain to get the position just as soon as you come back with a work permit in hand. Lovely.

You've had the benefit of going to the office at school with your friend and seeing them hand him the fukushinsho, proof of your student status, that's required for the permit. You go to the office and get the same paper, and double check with the receptionists to make sure that you aren't missing anything; you certainly wouldn't want to make an extra trip out to the office all the way out in Shinagawa for nothing. They assure you that you have everything, and even give you a list of things. Armed with the entire list of items, you make the journey out to Shinagawa and walk for twenty minutes to get to the Immigration office. Why IS it so far away from the station? There is a bus, but it takes just as long as the walk, so you decide to save yourself a couple hundred yen.

You get to the office and fill out your application form, but when you get to the front of the line, the guy tells you that you're missing the fukushinsho. You tell him that it must be a mistake, because you were told by the people at school that the paper they handed you was the fukushinsho and that your friend, that walked you to the office, was able to get his work permit with the same paperwork as yourself. After sending you running around the building, you are told that the paper you got from the school wasn't the fukushinsho "because the name of the school isn't on it." Suddenly, your friend remembers that you need to take the paper to another office at the school to get the real document, and is shocked that the people in the department didn't explain this to you. The list itself simply says that you need your Alien Registration Certificate, which you have brought with you. The paper you are holding is an application to get the fukushinso. As ridiculous as it is that you would need to go to multiple departments in your own school to get a proof that you're a student, apparently your student visa, gaijin card, and student ID aren't enough.

With no other options left, you leave the Immigration office empty-handed. You walk back to the train station. It's rush hour, so you squeeze into a crowded car and have unintentional inappropriate contact with half a dozen people at once. In order to avoid being called a pervert, you loop both hands high in the air around one of the overhead poles. It's Friday, so you'll have to wait until Monday to go through the whole process again. Hopefully next time you'll have the foresight to be told that you have everything you need to actually get something done.

The best part is, once you actually submit your application, you get to wait at least a week and a half before they send you a postcard, telling you to come back to pick up your permit at the Immigration Bureau. Ponder that a moment.

Isn't bureaucracy wonderful?

Gyoza Party - February 4th

When we returned from Fujikyuu (the first time), we consoled ourselves with Chinese food at a chain restaurant called Bamiyan. The food was alright, but as we munched on gyoza (potstickers) we realized that we could make better food for less money. The seed was planted for a gyoza party, and it was only a matter of time and planning before the idea came to fruition.

We entertained the idea of having our little suaree at Hans' apartment, but his kitchenette wasn't quite up to the task of having a good cooking party. Suddenly, it occurred to us to ask Dr. Shek if he'd like to host the event at his spacious apartment near the school. I can only imagine that his social life here consists mainly of professional engagements and video-calls back home, and since we all enjoy his company, it seemed like a good match. We later pitched the idea to him, and he readily accepted. We tentatively set a date the last weekend of the semester, just before our trip to Okinawa.

A couple days earlier, Hans hustled me into going to his apartment to help wrap some of the gyoza for the party. He had to test out his mom's recipe, and determine the best method for cooking them. At the very least, there would be a lot of taste-testing going on. Through trial and error, we figured out the best way to make delicious gyoza, and at about 30% of the 100 or so potstickers we had wrapped.

The following day, I headed over to Dr. Shek's in the afternoon, and was soon followed by the others. Pretty much everyone had contributed in one way or another to the meal, and we all stuffed ourselves with salad, stir-fry, gyoza and tonjiru. Another successful evening for the CSU gang.

Fujikyuu Victory! - January 28th

Considering the fiasco we went through the first time we went to fujikyuu, I was somewhere between apprehensive and optimistic about revisiting the theme park. On one hand, it couldn't possibly go much worse than it had. On the other, the weather report was looking pretty gloomy, with another storm forecasted for the last weekend of the month. It was a gamble, but we had no choice, since our day passes were only valid till the end of January. In anticipation of foul weather, my host family helped me put together a "teru teru bouzu," a small tissue creature that looks like a ghost. Once completed, you hang the thing up by the window, and it serves as a sort of prayer for good weather. Mine had kind of a smug face, and everyone told me that it was sure to rain.

We once again took the bus from Shinjuku. This time, it was Hans, Katy, Hilary and myself. The cloud cover was ominous, blotting out the sun like a huge white blanket. This was our last shot at getting any use out of those tickets, so we could only hope for the best.

And the best is what we got.

The forecast served as a deterrent to park-goers, which resulted in a dismally small crowd at the park. The obvious outcome--short lines! We spent all day running around the park, enjoying some of the best roller coasters in Japan. We rode Fujiyama, the tallest roller coaster in the world (around 80m), three times, pausing just long enough to run down the exit to return to the entrance. We also rode the record-holder for most consecutive upside-down loops, eejanaika thrice. We got in the relatively long line for Dodonpa, and went half mad listening to the annoying track that kept repeating the name of the ride, just in case we had forgotten. The ride starts off in a darkened tunnel, then in less than a second, sends the coaster hurtling somewhere around 100mph out of the tunnel. In less than a minute, we had circumvented over half the park. It was really exhilarating, but the repetitive track was so annoying we couldn't stand to wait in line again.

Surprisingly enough, the longest line was for the Hamtaro Adventure ride. It's just a short ride, but there's only one seat for two people; the passenger in front sits nestled into the crotch of the person behind them. As you might imagine, the crowd was full of couples, which we found endlessly amusing. Elsewhere on our list of things to do was to check out the haunted house on the far end of the park. It was modeled after a hospital, and cost an extra 500 yen to get into, but it was rumored to be quite good, and almost 30 minutes long. Hilary scares easily, and was hesitant about going in, but we coaxed her into it. A couple went in ahead of us. The girl didn't look too happy about being there, but the guy was visibly excited to have a valid excuse to hold his girl in public. As it turns out, Hans was the biggest sissy in the group, and we spent most of the time running through the place, overtaking the poor couple ahead of us.

It was quite dark by the time we got out the haunted mansion. We were running out of time before our bus back to Tokyo, so we rode the big coasters a few more times before finally leaving the park. Wobbly legged, we stumbled back to the bus stop and rode back home, satisfied that we finally had the fujikyuu experience we'd always hoped for.

Paper Museum and Sugamo - January 27th

On our last outing of the semester, we meet up to ride the Arakawa line, one of the last two trolleys in the city. Our first destination is the paper museum near Ouji station (not like the board game). We had to wait for some of the students to show up, so we played on a playground nearby. At the top of one of the towers was a collection of crudely drawn genitals and vulgar words. I had inadvertantly stumbled upon Japanese sex education...

We continued to play while we waited for the last student to show up, and when the teacher appeared with Jessica in tow, we coaxed her to actually slide down the tall slide on the playground. She was petrified, and used her hands as brakes on the sides to slow her descent. The steel slide was extremely smooth, and after sensei squeaked her way to the ground, I jumped on it and surfed down on my feet, proving my bravery via foolishness.

With all of the students from both classes gathered (we were going with the level 6 students as well), we entered the paper museum, and was led by the kind curator to a room where he and a few other people explained the paper-making process, and that we were going to be making our own postcards that day. Apparently, the fibers present in milk cartons are particularly long and durable, so by boiling those to separate the fibers, they create a thick opaque oatmeal mush, which we then pour over a screen to make the paper. I placed a maple leaf into the mixture to embed it into my postcard. So impressed was I by the novelty of making my own paper, that I ended up buying my own kit. Now all I need are a few milk cartons and some time to kill.

After marvelling over our postcards, we were led around the museum and given a brief history of paper, including prints of some old books and leaf sutras, as well as parts of machines used to make paper. One interesting thing I learned was that cigarette paper was made out of hemp, because it burns slower than other papers. I couldn't help but wonder where they get the hemp to make the paper for American cigarettes, since it's illegal in the States.

We bid the curator goodbye, and got back on the rails to go to Sugamo, also known as "Grandma's Harajuku." Our assignment was to find at least one old lady and interview her about Sugamo. Hans and I walked around for a while and eventually found ourselves on the main temple grounds, where there was a crowd of old patrons lined up to wash a buddha statue. The statue is a major attraction in the area, and gets a very steady stream of visitors who rub the statue down all day long. Everyone at the temple looked pretty intent on their business with the statue, so we were pretty sure we wouldn't find anyone willing to let us interview them. We continued down the street and suddenly Hans grabbed my arm. He motioned to an old lady in a wheelchair with bright purple hair. "Lets interview her, she looks nice."

And she was. We introduced ourselves, and she and her daughter automatically awarded us with sembei crackers. They were really sweet, but it was their first time at Sugamo as well, so the questions we prepared were pretty useless. Nevertheless, we had a fun time talking to them, and learned what little they knew about the area, and the infamous "red undies," which are only available there. Rumor has it that wearing these panties will raise your body temperature, and are thus very common among older folks. Color theory at work?

We bid the ladies adieu, and went back to wandering around the streets. We were done with out work for the day, and still had some business to attend to about our upcoming trip to Taiwan.

An Burger Experiment - January 24th

After visiting another Museum and the Imperial park today, Hans and I stopped at a Wendy's for a late lunch. We got up to order, and there was a large placemat in front of the register with an ad for something called the "An Burger." I had recently read about this dish online, and although I was compelled to find out what it was all about, I couldn't bring myself to get it. So, I cajoled my friend into giving it a try.

It is a slab of anko and a slice of processed cheese in a hamburger bun; with a little bit of some kind of white sauce, possibly mayonaise. We didn't spend much time looking at it before consumption, so we were unable to identify it.

He took a bite and had a long moment of silence. He said it wasn't bad by any means, but it was hard to classify. The anko and the cheese is a strange combination, as you never taste both simultaneously; it's either all anko or all cheese. The hamburger bun is another interesting element, for it's much different from the kind of bread that generally accompanies anko. I took a bite and had to agree with him; we just couldn't figure it out.

結果： worth trying, but I probably wouldn't buy one again. I like to keep my entrees and desserts separate.

CSU Shinnenkai - January 23rd

The school semester resumed and neared completion without too much fanfare. Another nomikai was planned for the CSU group, and this time we were going to have it at the Lockup in Shibuya. The Lockup is a theme restaurant, set as a kind of mix between a prison and an asylum. I heard that the first person in each group would get abducted by the waiters and bound in chains. I headed up the rear of the group, and was a bit disappointed when they hadn't apprehended Claire and thrown her in a closet somewhere.

The food was pretty good, and we quickly got underway with the drinks. A quarter of the way into the meal, the lights when out, and under black lights, several waiters dressed as prison inmates and monsters came in to assault those unfortunate enough to choose seats by the doors. I managed to get a shot of Philip about to get stabbed by a ghoul. When the fun was over, James stood up and gave a short birthday speech, inviting folks to go to a concert with him this weekend. Before we left, there was another power outage, and this time, Bob snuck up behind the attackers and damn near tackled him. It was all in the spirit of fun though, and everyone had a great time. By this time, we were quite merry, and there was talk of going to a club for a nightcap.

I ended up getting dragged to Gas Panic, one of the hole-in-the-ground "dance clubs." We had a great time, but the staff kept pestering people to buy more drinks. When Derek told the guy that he had already bought a drink, he actually pointed to a sign overhead that said in both English and Japanese something to the extent of "You're either drinking, buying a drink, or leaving." I was shocked that they were such assholes about it, so I decided at that point that I wouldn't waste any more money at that place again. Other than their annoying hiccup, it was a great evening.

Hakone - January 13th

Sacchan had one more free day before she goes back to the States, so we figured we would go to Hakone. I invited Hans along, thinking that we'd be going to onsen, for which Hakone is famous. I met up with Hans and we took the Odakyuu again to Odawara. A few days later, I was watching the news about one of the recent "bara bara jiken," where murder victims were dismembered and their body parts were strewn about the countryside. Apparently, one of the suspects, a wife upset about being cheated on, was carrying the head of her murdered husband on the very train we had been riding. Holy shit.

The train we were riding had a different destination, so we had to backtrack a little bit to get to
Odawara. We met up with Sacchan, but didn't have time to go back home or visit with her family. Since it was the weekend, everyone was home, including her dad. I'm anxious to meet him again, but she seems to be even more apprehensive about it, and so we headed straight for Hakone from the station.

En route, we found out that we wouldn't be going to onsen at all that day, since she had plans to hang out with friends and family later that evening. Seeing as she talked about her old job at a huge onsen park just before we discussed going to Hakone, I figured that a soak was somewhere in the itinerary. Alas, it was not.

We went to ashi no ko (a with a great view of Mt. Fuji) and walked along the shore. There was a small peninsula blocking the view of Fuji, and as we progressed, it came into view. We apparently had hit the perfect vantage point for the mountain, because there was a small group of photographers with tripods set up, taking photos of the mountain and trying to catch the pirate ship tourist ferry in the foreground. We piled back into the car and wound our way up the mountain, heading for Owakudani, the Sulfur Valley.

The view from the lake actually made Fujisan look bigger than when we were up on higher ground, but I took as many photos as I could anyways. The second we stepped out of the car the acrid yet familiar stench of rotten eggs assaulted our sinuses. We hurried into the shop nearby to try one of the local specialties, the kuro-tamago (black egg). The black eggs are like goth easter eggs; the color comes from being hard-boiled in the natural spring up the hill, the source of the smell. I was a bit apprehensive about eating a black egg that smelled like it had been left in the sun a bit too long, but when I cracked mine open and ate it, I found it to be a perfectly normal hard-boiled egg. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but I was hovering somewhere between relief and disappointment. Eating a hard-boiled egg is hardly something to write home about, but here we are.

After finishing the eggs and the bento boxes that Sacchan and her mom woke up early that morning to make, we meandered around the shop, ooh-ing and ahh-ing at the yosegi-zaiku (elaborate woodwork) and trying to pick out something for Haruto, as it was his birthday. I ended up getting him a kind of wooden puzzle where you use the pieces to make hundreds of different "target" shapes. I later gave it to him that night, and while he wasn't really sure what to make of it, everyone else agreed that it was a fine gift, and that it'll help him develop intellectually. Score.

Wandering around, we randomly ran into Sheryl and Davina, along with another friend. They had purchased some sort of tourist package, and had spent the previous night at an onsen ryokan. We visited briefly, but they were fixing to take the gondola back down the mountain, so they took off. How completely random was that, I thought.

We made an offering to the small shrine at the base of the hill, then walked up toward the sulfur pits above. Huge plumes of steam were issuing forth from the earth as if to remind us that there is more to this planet than the ground we stand on and the air that we breathe. Running below the wooden walkway, a stream of water trickled downhill, staining the ground a desolate shade of ochre. Above our heads ran a tiny gondola, not quite large enough for a child to ride in. We would later realize that this gondola was meant for the black eggs, and not for lazy tourists. The smell grew stronger as we approached the end of the path. Pretty soon we were engulfed in the sickly steam, permeating everything like an angry skunk. If it weren't for the smell and toxic levels of sulfur in the water, it would have made a fine onsen. People were gathered around the main "bath," taking photos and eating the freshly boiled rotten eggs. We took our share of photos and retreated from the smell that did not diminish in potency. Having already spent most of our daylight hours, we began the drive back towards Odawara.

We stopped back at the Kamaboko museum, and this time I got a chance to watch the factory in action. It's an interesting process, going from a net full of squirming fish to a half-moon emulsion, reminiscent of a giant marshmellow. Guests were making Chikuwa, another fish-based product. Sacchan sat herself down on the stairs leading to the art gallery on the second floor, and after walking Hans through the exhibition, we gathered her back up went to the now deserted fish market I had visited back when I first came to Odawara two years ago. There were a few shops still open, and one of them had samples of ika no shiokara (salty spicy squid, raw), which she and the shopkeep assured me was quite tasty. I put on my poker face and held it fast, which was good, because it tasted like fishbait dipped in chum. I thanked the storeowner and spent the next five minutes screaming on the inside and desperately wishing for a soda machine or a bottle of urine to wash down the aftertaste.

I tried to get Sacchan to take us back to her place to say hi to her folks, but she stuck to her guns, assuring me that her father would "kill me." Perhaps she's trying to instill respect in me by trying to purvey a vision of him snapping my neck like a twig, even though he doesn't know I'm dating his daughter. He is apparently Rambo in a suit, and I am Vietcong soldier #6 that gets Agent Orange in the face for not using honorifics when talking to his daughter, or just for talking to his daughter at all. I should quake with fear at the very thought of him. From hence forth, he will be known as "he-who-shall-not-be-named." Sorry JK Rowling, but I found someone who is apparently scarier than Voldemort.

We got a bit lost on our way to the station, and ended up driving several kilometers down the line in order to save a few yen on our return tickets. It wasn't really necessary, but it was thoughtful of Sacchan to drive us all that way, and I actually appreciated the extra time I was able to spend with her. Other than a random guy on the train with a nasty case of tourettes (literally screaming out all kinds of random stuff), the ride was pretty uneventful. The funny thing was that when he first started yelling, everyone visibly jumped a few feet into the air. Everyone's backs stiffened and they turned their ear towards the man, who by now had been awarded his own bench by the people who were unwilling to sit next to a slathering lunatic. Yet, by the third outburst, there was no response from the crowd. They had simply tuned him out, silently hoping that the next station was his stop. When he finally disembarked, he stood up and bolted across the platform to board another train. Hans and I quietly chuckled to ourselves, and the other passengers exchanged nervous glances. He was their problem now. I had no photos, so I wrote a note to myself so as not to forget the crazy guy on the train. May we never forget the crazy men on the train.

Odawara and Sac State Nomikai - January 10th

Brad and Rina spent their new years in Nagoya, so they were unable to come for the festivites of Hans's birthday, or for the spectacular disaster of our trip to Fujikyuu. But today they along with several other people who have studied at Sac State are in town, and we're planning on going to an izakaya in Shibuya for some laughs. The head count is over 10, so this will definitely get interesting.

Seeing as I had yet to come to Odawara and deliver my omiyage for Sacchan's family, I figured that today would be a good excuse to head down there for the afternoon. She had hinted at the possibility of meeting up with Brad in Odawara to hang out and Garrett, one of my kouhai from Sac State who was travelling around Tokyo at the time, was also free to spend the day in Kanagawa prefecture with us. The assurances by his cell phone carrier that he'd be able to use his cell phone in Japan turned out to be empty smoke, and so Garrett found himself relying on pay phones and the internet. He should complain to them about the exceptional inconvenience they caused him by lying to him about the extent of his service.

At any rate, I met up with Garrett and Brad at baba in the morning, and we scuttled down to Shinjuku andjumped on the Odakyuu. Sacchan met us at the station in her little Daihatsu and took us to her house. Her mom and grandma were there, and were as pleasant and cheerful as ever. Her mom treated us to an extensive lunch of sushi and soba. Perhaps because of their asian heritage and upbringing, Brad and Garrett were hesitant to partake in such a generous treat. I, on the other hand, was perhaps too hungry. I knew that Sacchan's mom loves to give to guests, and that she'd hate for us to leave anything left on the plates. I balked at her generosity to the extent dictated by manners before diving into the meal she prepared for us.

Sacchan took us to the kamaboko museum, which is also the factory where the fishcake is produced. In the museum are various exhibits that show the different kinds of fish that go into the various products that the company makes. Other exhibits show the way in which the fishcake is manufactured. An entire wall of the building is a glass window into the factory, but alas, the factory was closed on Wednesdays. We busied ourselves by walking through the art gallery on the second floor, displaying a variety of works by famous artists from around the world, all done on the wood blocks that kamaboko comes on. It was interesting to see the small blocks of wood used as a medium for paintings and sculpture; some of the works were quite impressive and creative.

Across the street is a well-known beer hall, where we enjoyed samplers of Hakone's award-winning local beer. A pilsner, an ale, and "seasonal beer" were set before us. Brad and I sampled the three beers with zeal; the pilsner had a distinctly hopsy bite, but finished quickly and smoothly, the bitterness of the hops quickly giving way to a mellow aftertaste. The ale had a similar finish, but started much more mildly. The final and darkest beer also had a deep malty flavor with a characteristic full-bodied finish. All three beers were very enjoyable, and I bought a variety pack to share with my host family, along with a pack of delicious umeboshi (another specialty of Odawara). Running short of time, we went back to Sacchan's place to grab our stuff and head back to Tokyo, and once again found ourselves bombarded by gifts from her mom. Loaded down by even more things than we had brought as omiyage, we rode the train back to Tokyo for our meetup in Shibuya.

We gathered in front of the Hachiko statue before going to the izakaya. I got to see people I hadn't hung out with in over a year; we all had a great time catching up. One of the dishes that came to the table was basashi (horse sashimi), and I tasted a piece. It's not a very common dish, and I'm a bit repulsed by the idea of eating a pony, but my indignation at the thought wasn't going to bring the horse back to life. The meat was extremely tender and practically melted in my mouth; definitely an interesting experience, although for the aforementioned reasons I probably wouldn't order it a second time. After an endless parade of food and drinks, we were all quite full and happy, and upon leaving the restaurant, we decided that we would go sing at the Shidax down the street. We had a great time and sang all of our favorite songs. Sacchan and Yurika had to go back to Odawara before it got too late, so they left early. The rest of us stayed around for another half hour or so before we went hoarse and couldn't sing any more. When we went to pay the bill, the people at the counter absolutely raped us for 600 yen every half hour (way more than we were told originally), and even charged us the full amount for the people who had arrived late and left early, "because they didn't tell us when they left." Despite their bullshit argument (my response was "count how many people there are here, obviously some of us left early!"), we still became victims to their well-rehearsed methods of highway robbery. I shelled out the difference for Sacchan and Yurika, vowing never to come to Shidax again. Despite the shitty way the evening ended, we were all still in good spirits and were happy to have seen each other again. It's this kind of get-together that makes Japan fun.

Yokohama with Yurika - January 8th

For the past couple days, Yurika has stayed at Sacchan's place in Odawara, but she is going to hang out with another friend in Yokohama for the last few days before she returns to Osaka. Since her friend has a date that afternoon and won't be able to meet her, Yurika asked if I wanted to hang out. Sacchan was going to meet up with her cousin and her baby in Tokyo, so I had no other plans. I met up with Yurika and we spent the day hanging around the Akarenga area, checking out the various shops and running away from birds. We walked all over the city, and ended up in Chinatown, looking for omiyage and eating world-famous nikuman.

Sheryl was free that afternoon, so she met up with back at the station. We wandered around the ferris wheel near akarenga, and went back around the half-moon hotel, a notable landmark if you've ever been in the area. We went through the base of the hotel and happened upon an apparent photo shoot for a teen model, with a few middle-aged men standing around, lending their presence to the already creepy atmosphere. We turned around that point and headed back towards the station. This time I made sure to take the train going to Tokyo.

Fujikyuu Failure - January 6th

Legend has it that there's a magical place in Yamanashi prefecture, at the foot of mount Fuji. This is a land where inexplicable things happen, and dreams come true. It's a place where people do consective loop-de-loops whilst spinning upside down and sideways; where they go from 0 to over 100 mph in an instant; where they fall from 80 meters up and live to tell the tale.

This land is called Fujikyuu Highland, and it's the only theme park I've ever actually been excited to visit.

We first learned about Fujikyuu back when we first arrived. Brian had been there with a group from CSU last year, and regaled me with stories about how people were throwing up and crying when they got off Eejanaika, the ride with the most consecutive backwards/upside-down loops in the world. It was at that point that I knew I was going to go there. How could I pass up an opportunity like that?

I let people know that I was planning a trip eventually, and that it would probably happen sometime during winter break. A lot of people expressed interest, but few actually did anything more than that. It seems that most people either conveniently forgot, or just weren't willing to take the necessary steps to plan and execute the trip. All for the better; as the apparent leader of the trip, I would be responsible for any disaster that might befall us, so the fewer the merrier. The final head count was Hans, Hilary, Kaoru, Yurika, Sacchan, and myself. We bought a bus ticket + free pass package, and I met up with the three travelers from Tokyo in the morning to catch the bus. Sacchan and Yurika were coming from Odawara, so they only had one bus either way that day, and had to get there a couple hours ahead of the rest of us.

The original plan was quite spectacular. We were going to party all day, and stay all night for an 24 hour skating rink in the park, and leave the next morning. It was going to be a hell of a weekend! But alas, it seems that the fates had once again conspired against us. I had an inkling that there would be weather trouble the night we bought our tickets, but I figured that if it was going to be anything worth closing the park over, the travel agent selling me the tickets would have at least warned me about it. Moreover, up until that point, we had been having the warmest winter Tokyo has seen in over a century.

So we arrived at the bus terminal in Shinjuku around 10am to catch our bus, and I get a call from Sacchan. It's snowing at Fujikyuu, like, Wisconsin snow. There's already a foot on the ground. They didn't say anything about the park, so I figured everything was still ok. We'd already bought our tickets, it'd be a waste not to use them now. At least we should go hang out with the girls. We soldiered on and boarded the bus.

About three quarters of the way there, we started to see signs of winter. The snow that dotted the landscape soon became overwhelming, as if someone with a giant paintcan dumped whitewash all over the valley. When the bus stopped, we jumped out into a miserable mixture of snow and slush and dirt. The bus took off, and we stood bewildered for a moment, trying to figure out exactly where we were. We could see one of the rides from the freeway, partially obscured by low-lying clouds, but distinctly roller-coaster in shape. We called up Sacchan and trudged down to the main gate, our feet already getting soaked by the icy water. At least it had stopped snowing, but now it was raining.

We got to the main gate, and Sacchan and Yurika were just inside, beckoning to us. We had come all this way, so we figured what the heck, and exchanged our passes to enter the compound. The park attendant gave me a small list of attractions that were still open, and warned me that the park would be closing at 6pm that evening, and that there would be no all-night skating. Like a victim of shell shock, I took the list and stumbled through the gates. Sacchan and Yurika had been making the most of their time, checking out the various rides that remained open through the snow storm. None of the roller coasters were on that list.

We sought shelter in one of the park's food courts. We tried to trudge through the snow, but it was so deep and wet that we just ended up soaking ourselves further. There were practically no other people in the park, and those whom we did see were wearing uniforms indicating their employer. I was probably quite visibly upset. While everyone else took a "shouganai, you can't control the weather" approach, I knew that I had my own stubbornness to get here to blame, and I thanked everyone for being so understanding. Poor Yurika had a flimsy pair of shoes on, and had to be absolutely frigid, but she didn't complain once.

However impressed I might have been by how well my little Donner party handled the situation, I was still upset. What kind of park keeps any percentage of its rides open in weather like this? What an absolute waste of our park passes, if we only get to check out a whopping 10% of the attractions. If we had any warning when we bought our tickets, we could have rescheduled our trip. Now we were stuck in the snow.

We trudged back out of the park to talk to the lady at the bus stop to reschedule our return to Tokyo. Sacchan and Yurika would just take the lone bus back to Odawara, for which they already held tickets. Upon returning to the park, we decided to try to talk to the gatekeepers about the situation and see if we could salvage our park passes for another day. I was still upset, and spoke to Sacchan and Yurika in hurried English as they conveyed our plight to the workers. Finally, the gatekeepers relented and handed us back our free passes, which would be good until the end of the Month. Our saving grace was claiming that I didn't understand any Japanese, and didn't realize that they were telling me "hey, 90% of the park is closed, do you still want to go in?" when we first entered.

Despite the small triumph, I was still dejected, and since Sacchan and Yurika had already been there all morning, and Kaoru let slip that she was Japanese, they were unable to redeem their passes. Despite all this, they were still very upbeat about everything. I still wanted to hang out with the girls a bit longer, since we had really come all that way to see them. We stopped at the hotel adjacent to the park and had nikuman in the lobby, before going back to the bus stop to once again change our itinerary. Sacchan and Yurika returned to the park in order to "save the princess," and play at the few remaining attractions before their bus would arrive. While we were waiting in the bus stop, Kaoru went outside and disappeared around the corner. I was worried that she might be upset about the whole ordeal, and I got up to go check on her, trying to think of words of comfort (lord knows I needed them at that point). When I got around the bend, I saw her hunched over the snow. Making snow bunnies. In spite of all of the grief we had seen that day, she was playing in the snow. I was moved, so much so that I scooped up a handful of snow and patted it into a sphere before chucking it at Hans when he came rounded the corner. We played a bit more before the bus finally arrived and took us back to Tokyo, which was amidst a light shower. We stopped at a La Pausa for dinner before going home, but I later found out that our luck wasn't all bad. The bus we took back to Tokyo was the last one before they completely shut down the roads due to the icy conditions. If we hadn't left when we did, we would have been stuck at Fujikyuu for the night. And that would have been a much longer journal entry.

Hans's Birthday Bonanza - January 4th

Today is Hans's birthday, and even Yurika, who hasn't met him, has come to celebrate. I met up with them in Ueno for a cake viking, pre-approved by Hans on two separate occasions. There were about a dozen people gathered for the brunch, and we spent the bulk of the 70 minutes stuffing ourselves with sweets, and showering Hans with gifts. I gave him a small kitty coin purse I got in Kamakura, as well as a tofu pillow and keychain. Considering the memory foam tofu pillow he gave me for Christmas, which I tend to use quite frequently, I figured it was the least I could do.

We finished up and wandered around ameyoko for a while, playing around in hat and toy stores hidden among the smell of fish and surplus army gear. I found a top hat that I liked in particular, but it was unfortunately more expensive than both of the fukubukuro I bought the other day.

I was scheduled to meet up with Sacchan in the afternoon, so I took my leave of everyone and headed there with Yurika, who had other plans in Shinjuku. I met up with Sacchan and we walked around Shinjuku for a while and headed back to my house to meet with my host family. Unfortunately, only mom and her friend were home, so we had some tea and biscuits and they chatted excitedly in Japanese whilst I thanked the heavens that I could actually make out what they were saying about me. Aside from some drama regarding the printing of a coupon for La Pausa, where Hans's birthday dinner was planned, we had a splendid but hurried time, concluding with a clipped goodbye and dashing out the door in order to make it to dinner in time.

Hans had planned to have a full course meal at La Pausa, and a crowd of friends had gathered there to celebrate the occasion by once again stuffing themselves. In retrospect, there would be no better way to celebrate Hans's birthday. After eating and drinking and causing a general ruckus, we moved the party over to a nearby karaoke bar, where we sang ourselves hoarse late into the night.

Fukubukuro! - January 2nd

The fukubukuro (lucky bag) is a New Year special deal that shops have to help them clear out as much merchandise as possible. It's like Japan's white sale, but with a twist. The bags have a set price, and contain anywhere between three and five times the price of the bag itself. The catch is you don't know what's in the bag until after you've purchased it. It's the ultimate crapshoot; even though you're guaranteed to get more than your money's worth in retail gear, you run the risk of getting something you don't want or need. Starting on January 2nd, these bags will grace storefronts all over Japan, from clothing and jewelry shops to huge electronics chains. Hell, even the the grocers will have bags of various fruits and vegetables. But no peeking!

I talked to Ehtesham a while back about going to get some fukubukuro. A rabid shopper, he wouldn't dare turn down an opportunity to spend money. We made plans to meet in front of Marui around 9am on the 2nd day of the year to plunder his favorite stores. The strategy was that if we lined up at the Marui that dedicates the first 6 floors to women, we would have far less competition in the men's stores than if we went to the Marui Men down the street. Ehtesham has the whole area scoped out, and has even talked to some of the workers at the shops, so our shopping trajectory has already been plotted.

When we got to the store, the line had already wrapped its way around the block and into an alley behind the building. We took our place and waited for the line to move. Behind us the line grew exponentially, reassuring us that we hadn't arrived too late. When the doors opened, the line heaved forward and the crowd surged into the store. We broke for the escalators and got up to the men's floors with the few other guys. I immediately grabbed a fukubukuro at the shop in front of the escalators, and Ehtesham made a beeline for Jun Men. He got his bag and went back to the shop where I got mine, and picked up a second one. He then said there was another store he wanted to visit upstairs, and I followed him up the escalator. He bought a third fukubukuro, and convinced me that I wanted a second one. I asked if any L-size bags remained, and was told that none were left. I figured that I would give up on getting two bags, and stood aside as I waited for Ehtesham. At this point, the salesmen held up their last bag, an LL, asking if anyone wanted it. I watched and waited for almost a whole minute while no one claimed it, and finally I gave in and grabbed the bag.

Ehtesham and I went to a nearby Mister Donut to check out our bounty. I lucked out with a pretty nice selection of jackets and shirts, and one crazy white sweater that had no place in Japan (not just because of the style, but because it was absolutely huge). Ehtesham didn't fare so well, as he pulled a pair of white leather pants worthy of Michael Jackson circa 1988. Considering how much he shops, he won't be hurting for outfits anytime soon, but I managed to expand my wardrobe quite nicely. Later on, Hans, Tracey and Willy showed up and we returned to Jun Men, where we spent the rest of the day watching in awe as Willy and Ehtesham bought suits. I am amazed.

Oshougatsu - January 1st

Despite getting to bed around 3am last night, I got up early in the morning to bring in the new year with the family, Japanese style. I got downstairs and was quickly reminded that on new years, everyone dresses up in the morning before greeting the other. I dashed back upstairs and threw on some of the clothes my brother had sent me before returning to the living room and giving everyone a proper greeting. The ancestors get to eat first, so we all made our offerings to the shrine in the washitsu. I was goaded into making my own prayer, so I thanked the ancestors for the lovely family with whom I get to stay, and gave them a よろしくお願いします (yoroshiku onegaishimasu) for the coming year.

We all sat down to breakfast of osechi ryouri, the traditional first meal of the year. Each kind of food has some kind of symbolic meaning pertaining to the new year, although they weren't all particularly tasty. I had a bit of a disagreement with the large tiger shrimp, who had neither been shelled nor had its head or sand vein removed. I love shrimp but I can't stand to eat the sand vein; since it was a special occasion, and I already have a reputation as the foreigner that eats practically anything, I choked down the shrimp, but drew the line at sucking the brains out of its head. Shrimp brains taste like a combination of crab butter and squid liver, neither of which do I ever find myself craving. I quickly ate the rest of the meal in an attempt to wash down the aftertaste of shrimp intestines, so I don't recall if there was anything particularly noteworthy. Haruto didn't seem to be too impressed either, and he slipped out of his high chair to go outside and play with bubbles. Apparently, not even many Japanese people care for osechi ryouri.

We watched a bit of tv and played around for a while, but we still hadn't gone out for 初詣 (hatsumoude, the year's first visit to a shrine or temple). There are big shrines and temples to which thousands of people flock, but we have a decent local temple nearby, with which Araiyakushi station shares its name. It's within walking distance, so we threw our shoes and coats on, and headed over to the shrine.

There was already a considerable crowd gathered in front of the gates, with a long line snaking its way through the surrounding street. In the center of the crowd was a single middle aged man in a jogging suit, slumped over a beer can. I had some sake with my breakfast, but 10am is a little early to be drunk in public! We waited in line patiently, playing with a few cheap toys from one of the nearby shops selling nickel bags of candy.

The temple grounds were also pretty crowded, and even had a few yatai stands up, selling different kinds of food. We made our way to the main shrine and made our 5 yen contributions, sealing it with a prayer. We made our way past the bonfires and small joya no kane to get our mikuji, new years fortunes. You shake a drum filled with sticks, and when one falls out, you get a fortune that corresponds to the number on the stick. Mine was 吉 (kichi), which is a standard good luck fortune. Yumi-chan got 大吉 (daikichi), which is great luck, and the detailed fortune even specified that she will have a safe birth, and that the child will be female (wow!) Yukiko pulled a 凶 (kyou), bad fortune, and had to go through some extra steps in order to negate the bad luck and replace it with good fortune. This involved getting a new fortune and tying it to the wires pictured above, then burning the bad fortune in one of the bonfires on the compound. She's had enough bad luck for the time being, so I hope that did the trick. After marvelling at the apparent accuracy of Yumi's fortune (we hadn't yet found out whether the new baby is a boy or girl), we returned home to enjoy our lazy holiday.