HAPPY CHRISTMAS SMILE LIFE!

I don't know what it is but Japan seems to skim the very top off the materialism and tackiness of American holidays to take for themselves. My mother can attest to some of this, but Christmas "decorations" displayed and sold here are limited to inflatable Mickey Mouses and dancing tabletop Santas. I'm used to it, but it appalls my Swedish roommate who claims they only use white lights, candles, and greenery where she's from. Of course Christmas has even less spiritual significance to this non-Christian nation, whose people usually spend the holiday eating KFC with friends. But I found it so funny when I walked into the local supermarket and was greeted by a huge inflatable Santa Claus, Japanese kids excitably bouncing around it, grateful for this novelty within the familiar grocery trip routine. One child was punching the lights out of poor Mr. Claus like he was out for revenge, but his victim always waved back to shape. I smiled knowingly at them, as though I as an American was doing them a favor by lending them our precious bobbing air-giants. They stared mesmerized back at me before, of course, saying "HELLOW!"

Yes, America, I ate raw chicken.

My face was blazing red from the izukaiya's flourescence, the bowling alley curse, and the new winter's 3 AM chill. We pedaled in pairs alongside an unsightly man-made stream, unconcerned at that hour about women rounding corners with babies and eggs in their bicycle baskets. Yuuki--whose parents didn't tell him until high school that they were actually Korean--told me, "I love cultural exchange" and I gladly accepted my position as wise informant on the differences between Japan and America. Crime, uh, situations for women, um, fashion? I could no longer hear the other pairs speaking amongst themselves, but I listened to Yuuki advise, "Do not be shy to use Japanese. It is nice to try. When I go to Australia over the summer, I think my Japanese--I mean English--was so bad but I had to try." Yuuki is a young man who hates the thought of it but will likely end up in a semi-traditional Japanese male career path. His major is English and he also attends an English Speaking school, so his language skills will be highly marketable in the business world. I watched him with his girlfriend last night; she flirted much more with the redhead guy but Yuuki didn't seem to mind, or notice. I wonder what will happen to them, or her more specifically. As he and I huffed up the final hill of the home stretch, vertical on our bikes, now completely alone, I told him, "I (pant) would never (pant) feel safe riding (pant) my bike at 3 AM (pant) at home (gulp)." He just laughed, knowing I was talking about a feeling he'd never really have. "I think it's cool that you got through the application process to study abroad. You have to work very hard, and it's cool that you got to Japan. I just, I just really respect you guys. I have so much respect for you." I almost handed the man a tissue, but just smiled and said with the last leg pump to the hill's crest, "Finally, it's down-hill" and we both knew at that moment that nothing could feel better than riding full speed down that hill towards our beds.

I can't believe it is already November 18th. It absolutely doesn't seem possible. The past two weeks have been so busy that I forgot to think about the dates. I have only three weeks left of classes, one week of finals, and one week of saying my goodbyes to Japan for good. Unreal.

Once upon a time I was being carried through a crosswalk in Umeda (Osaka's northern downtown) by the bustle of youthful nightlife, and I laughed and thought I could never imagine my parents in Japan. Nothing against my parents, or Japan, but I knew it was a place they would likely never go had I not had the unreasoning to come here myself. Yet they came and they conquered, McClain/Dennis Rodman in tow.

Despite my dad's constant struggle with the pronounciation of "arigatoo gozaimasu", I think they fared pretty well and hopefully took some of the experience home with them. I will also take some of the experience home with me in the form of a nice new coat. Thanks Mommy, I've gotten many compliments.

My 3 favorite dudes.

So now it is autumn in Japanland. Yesterday several of us went to the Ginkakuji (Silver) Temple in Kyoto to witness the land's changing colors. The weather was gorgeous and almost warm on our trek down the Philosopher's Walk, and right before sunset we reached the tree mountains surrounding the temple and got a view of the city below. We later met up with Japanese friends and Corey had a blast teaching them even more party games that somehow work cross-culturally (Umbrella, i.e.). They're particularly fond of Kemps, a card game, so I ended my night by winning the last match with my partner Nagi, who calls me Andy.


Classes are becoming more demanding, as is always the end-of-the-year trend. Especially in my Japanese language classes, grammar and kanji are becoming more complicated but they're moving us just as fast. I have enjoyed learning Japanese but I know I'll discontinue my studies of it once I return to the states. I can only handle one long-distance relationship anyway.


I just received a call from Andrew Sartorius on my computer. If you're interested in his own story of Japan, visit his blog by clicking here.

Kuruma Fire Festival, Kuruma, Kyoto, 10/22/07:



Corey, Panda Skeleton on Train, 10/31/07:

"The Lock-Up", Shiji, Kyoto, 10/31/07:


I dressed as an old-fashioned golfer using the clothes I have plus a beret, pom pom, crazy checkered socks, and broom-turned-club. I don't think many Japanese got it, but maybe I could have done better with it. The restaurant was decorated as a dungeon, with black lights, cages, people running around banging on the cages and screaming, that sort of thing... It was interesting to celebrate an American holiday that was brought to Japan just in the 80s by Tokyo Disneyland. Many of the Japanese people in the photo above were not inclined to dress up too much, but there were many who weren't so shy.


I just registered for my spring courses at Wooster this morning. If my anthropology courses I took abroad count toward my major, I will hardly have any sociology left to take besides Statistics and I.S. That's too much freedom! It's strange, sad, and terrifying to see the end in sight already. Maybe I'll stay a college student forever.

Hope your Halloweens were SPOOKtacular, or at least FANGtastic. Happy Birthday again to Aunt Kay, and Happy November to all.

Some Kind of Warp

I apologize for not informing you sooner, but I have enabled anonymous comments on my blog. If you do not have a Blogger/Google account, you can still comment on my entries. Click the "Anonymous" tab that appears somewhere after the text box for comments; just sign your name (or not) at the end so I know who you are. Thanks to those who already went to the trouble to make a Google account just for my sake. Hopefully now I'll hear from even more of you!

Onto whatever else. Since I have been in this unfamiliar place for a couple months now, I have gotten somewhat used to being uncomfortable all the time. Still, there have been a few moments where I experience something that snaps me back to home. Last week it was the bagpipes I heard being played beyond the park by my seminar house. It was so jostling, for the rest of the night I could not shake that puzzled, bittersweet feeling of random connectedness to something I could never explain.
This week it was at the mall in downtown Hirakata. We passed by the children's clothing section after an unsuccessful DS hunt and I heard Corey say, "Hey look." Well:



There's home, on a headless child's figure on the 4th floor of some mall called "Vivre" in Hirakatashi, some relatively tiny, dirty prefecture of Osaka, Japan.

Rainbows and Peace and Ponies and Japanese Anti-Terrorism Efforts

One of the true reasons I wanted to study in Asia was to (attempt to better) understand what it feels like to be a racial/ethnic/cultural minority. I am of course a white American attending an overwhelmingly white school in an overwhelmingly white city of Ohio, yet as a part of my major I have studied in-depth the various types of issues regarding the experiences of racial "others" in America.

In light of recent terrorist threats on a global scale, Japan's government (undoubtedly encouraged by their buddy, the US) has added another precaution at their borders dealing with the permission of foreign-born persons into the country (fingerprints, even). Even people who have given up their lives in their native countries and have become permanent residents of Japan are not recognized as true Japanese citizens. Only native-born Japanese people can vote, for instance, but I won't even begin to discuss Japan's so-called democracy right now. Anyway, the borders have tightened even more so, and foreign-born residents face no lighter treatment than foreign-born visitors when it comes to entering this country. We are all suspect, basically, but I'm not sure this has anything to do with terrorism. Sounds familiar.
Link to article.


Foreign residents (gaikokojin) in Japan make up about 1.5% of the population and seem to be clumped into very apparent categories. There are Koreans, Chinese, and...everybody else. The Koreans and Chinese are distinct because Japan has an ugly history with such countries and the effects are lasting. Even though the "everybody else" category is generally treated with respect, even admiration, even as some spectacle...as a part of it I have still felt a great sense of unbelonging. The stares and whispers overwhelm me, as I am usually comfortable with "blending in". I feel like a burden, stumbling over their language, stumbling with the customs. I feel like there is never a way I could adapt or even feel apart of it. My professors, residents for more than a decade, are still "foreigners"; they will never be Japanese.

A couple of times a group of us gaijin have been denied entrance to a bar or restaurant, though they don't say why. It is humiliating, yes, but I know this is on such a low scale compared to the daily harassment, discrimination, or even physical violence against many nonwhite Americans, foreign-born or not. They may be called Americans, perhaps with some hyphenated term stuck on the front of it, but many of these people are not treated as they should be by law or, well, morals. I am not suggesting that such treatment is always personal or always intentional, as much of it is most definitely not, but it exists everywhere. We are all devoted to the idea of our nation-state, so even in such a melting pot as America, we develop this commitment to the protectionism of "our" culture and "our" people. Immigrants threaten this, maybe. We struggle with it more in the US because we don't quite understand what is our culture, our people. Our Constitution is based on these open-arms ideals, but how effective is it?

Japan, however, just refuses to open its arms. They let me in because they know I'm going home.

Drunk cows and empty wallets.

Only in Japan...

I slept for 12 hours last night. I'm still a teenager at heart.

Yesterday was a big travel day, meaning we spent more time in train/subway stations than anything else, or so it seemed. Even so, we eventually reached Kobe, another major city of the Kansai region that sits on the southern coast. There is no real distinction between Osaka and Kobe as the buildings and concrete stretch on and on and on... I did, however, see the Pacific Ocean (briefly) from the train and also from atop a mountain. I still have never touched its pacified waters, which seems to be one of those things I would get emotional about.
Did you know that 60% of Japan's entire coastline is paved over in concrete? Ah, those beautiful Japanese beaches...


We rode the ropeway to the top of this here mountain. They let us off at the top, where we could explore a "European"-esque fake village covered in potted flowers.

This is Kobe, or a small section of it. See the ocean back there kind of?



If you are an expert of fine meats, as most of you are, you will have heard of Kobe beef. They treat their cows pretty well here in Japan, feeding them only the finest of beers and giving them daily massages--before, you know, slaughtering them for our benefit. Anyway, supposedly that is why their world-famous steak is so world-famous. Truly, it was the best steak I have ever eaten. I paid about $64 for the combo meal of steak, rice, potatoes, beans, soup, salad, and one half-glass of white wine. A plate of Kobe beef has been known to run at about $150, so we lucked out with our "deal", which was still the most I've ever paid for food. Worth it, though, I'd say. The picture is of me looking awkward in my baby bib.

The rest of today will be spent learning how to conjugate my Japanese adjectives. Muzukashii desu yo!