Saturday 30 June 2007
Success?
Not everywhere you get called handsome by a gay Canadian-Vietnamese polyglot (good luck on your travels Thang!)
Friday 29 June 2007
Thursday 28 June 2007
Monday 25 June 2007
Bananas
Bananas. I am...bananas about bananas. But you see, that doesn't really float so good across the language barrier put like that. Instead, I like bananas, again and again and I peel an invisible banana and chomp chomp chomp through it in two or three bites, before cramming the palm of my hand into my mouth.
The Elementary school kids sort of get it, but the Kindergarten kids are a lost cause. They have no idea why this bearded man is stuffing air into his mouth and repeating 'A-i-mu Ga-i, A-i ra-i-ku ba-na-na-zu'. But he's got a big pink ball and who knows where it's going to go next.
To Miyuki, as a matter of fact, the only other person with any idea what's happening. Miyuki likes cherries and says and gestures so much, plucking and dropping the famous Yamagata cherries (come on, you must know of them!) from thin air into her mouth.
Eventually, the big pink ball gets lightly slung from Miyuki down to the kids on the other side of the circle. They all scramble away from it like it's a big pink pregnant snake, or something. It's not.
The Elementary school kids sort of get it, but the Kindergarten kids are a lost cause. They have no idea why this bearded man is stuffing air into his mouth and repeating 'A-i-mu Ga-i, A-i ra-i-ku ba-na-na-zu'. But he's got a big pink ball and who knows where it's going to go next.
To Miyuki, as a matter of fact, the only other person with any idea what's happening. Miyuki likes cherries and says and gestures so much, plucking and dropping the famous Yamagata cherries (come on, you must know of them!) from thin air into her mouth.
Eventually, the big pink ball gets lightly slung from Miyuki down to the kids on the other side of the circle. They all scramble away from it like it's a big pink pregnant snake, or something. It's not.
Sunday 24 June 2007
HIKE
Preambles
Cycling around to Electro, fun though it is, just doesn't quite cut the mustard measured up alongside the full experience, the natural habitat, a few hundred like-mindeds and a trunk full of booze down and dealt with.
Hoping for a belting night out
I fell into the old trap on Friday night. That Friday feeling tickling me all over. 'We're bound to find some fun, some spontaneous night-life is going to sock us in the guts and drag us off into the unknown.' Oh no, dear reader. This is Yamagata.
Sushi started things off, which was perfectly ruined as we each conspired to pick the nastiest thing from the menu for the other to eat (except, of course, sea urchin, a clear sea mile out of bounds). We drank a bit more and went to a couple other regular places.
The next day and the great outdoors
Putting the hangover aside to be reckoned with at a later point, Max Dave and I trotted off up a mountain along a ridge over the hills and down them through rough and thorny terrain and eventually landed out by the next train stop along from Omoshiroyama, Yamadera. We each had our own personal escort of bugs orbiting roughly eye-level. I went to sleep seeing dots zipping across my vision. There were spectacular views. Musings. Discussions. Light-heartedness only the Famous Five could match. And then we got the train home.
Wrapping up thoughts that flaked off
And so, another weekend in Yamagata:
another outdoor sport begun/conquered with minimal necessary equipment (it turns out a box of koala biscuits and some breadsticks doesn't go far on a 7 hour hike)
another wet fart of a night
another reminder where the strengths of this place lie.
Cycling around to Electro, fun though it is, just doesn't quite cut the mustard measured up alongside the full experience, the natural habitat, a few hundred like-mindeds and a trunk full of booze down and dealt with.
Hoping for a belting night out
I fell into the old trap on Friday night. That Friday feeling tickling me all over. 'We're bound to find some fun, some spontaneous night-life is going to sock us in the guts and drag us off into the unknown.' Oh no, dear reader. This is Yamagata.
Sushi started things off, which was perfectly ruined as we each conspired to pick the nastiest thing from the menu for the other to eat (except, of course, sea urchin, a clear sea mile out of bounds). We drank a bit more and went to a couple other regular places.
The next day and the great outdoors
Putting the hangover aside to be reckoned with at a later point, Max Dave and I trotted off up a mountain along a ridge over the hills and down them through rough and thorny terrain and eventually landed out by the next train stop along from Omoshiroyama, Yamadera. We each had our own personal escort of bugs orbiting roughly eye-level. I went to sleep seeing dots zipping across my vision. There were spectacular views. Musings. Discussions. Light-heartedness only the Famous Five could match. And then we got the train home.
Wrapping up thoughts that flaked off
And so, another weekend in Yamagata:
another outdoor sport begun/conquered with minimal necessary equipment (it turns out a box of koala biscuits and some breadsticks doesn't go far on a 7 hour hike)
another wet fart of a night
another reminder where the strengths of this place lie.
Henry's gone and done it
I couldn't have put it better myself:
'I really fill pity and hopless.
He was every thing for Arsenal ,the captain, goel scorrer, freekick taker, playmaker, world class player,good example for the player
and faithful.
So arsenal leaders must give aqucik
solution to this miss.
Posted by sSamson teshome on June 23, 2007 1:55 PM'
'I really fill pity and hopless.
He was every thing for Arsenal ,the captain, goel scorrer, freekick taker, playmaker, world class player,good example for the player
and faithful.
So arsenal leaders must give aqucik
solution to this miss.
Posted by sSamson teshome on June 23, 2007 1:55 PM'
Wednesday 13 June 2007
Achi Mee-tei HOI !
It's simple.
Jun-Ken-Po (that's paper-scissors-stone) as a pair (oh yes, it does get bigger- I've seen entire football teams Jun-Ken-Po for the pleasure of the keeper's gloves).
The winner points a finger at the loser's nose. You can waggle it a bit too, if you feel inclined.
The winner says, "Achi Mee-tei, HOI !' and points up, down, left or right. (It means 'Look over there, HOI !')
The loser looks up, down left or right as the winner says 'HOI !'.
If the loser looks the same way as the winner points, he gets a flick on the forehead, like you might flick a large spider off your coffee cup rim.
'Slaps', 'Knuckles', 'Achi Mee-tei HOI !'... I guess it's a universal thing. I'm quite glad, on reflection, that Kouta (the 92kg prefecture judo champion) didn't quite grasp the rules of 'Knuckles' when I tried to teach him it a while back.
Jun-Ken-Po (that's paper-scissors-stone) as a pair (oh yes, it does get bigger- I've seen entire football teams Jun-Ken-Po for the pleasure of the keeper's gloves).
The winner points a finger at the loser's nose. You can waggle it a bit too, if you feel inclined.
The winner says, "Achi Mee-tei, HOI !' and points up, down, left or right. (It means 'Look over there, HOI !')
The loser looks up, down left or right as the winner says 'HOI !'.
If the loser looks the same way as the winner points, he gets a flick on the forehead, like you might flick a large spider off your coffee cup rim.
'Slaps', 'Knuckles', 'Achi Mee-tei HOI !'... I guess it's a universal thing. I'm quite glad, on reflection, that Kouta (the 92kg prefecture judo champion) didn't quite grasp the rules of 'Knuckles' when I tried to teach him it a while back.
Tuesday 12 June 2007
We Japanese say it like it is
I really should have known better than to ask Ikue what kind of home-room teacher Hitoshi Sensei is, today at lunch time.
The man in question was just the other side of the classroom, so she cupped her hand around her mouth and said something Japanese. Then she elaborated with gestures.
A fat one.
The man in question was just the other side of the classroom, so she cupped her hand around her mouth and said something Japanese. Then she elaborated with gestures.
A fat one.
Monday 11 June 2007
The Bugs Are Back
It was the classic football-stuck-in-a-tree dilemma, to which I had the classic solution: throw another ball up to knock the first one down.
It was the classic two-footballs-stuck-in-a-tree dilemma, to which I had the classic solution... where's a big stick.
There were lots of parents milling around at club activity time today, as we had the grand send-off ceremony ahead of the city sports tournament this weekend. The slogan adopted is 'You can do it!', which I giggle at every time it's shouted (which Adam Sandler film did that feature in??). They do shout it with such gusto too.
Just after I'd hurled the second ball to it's nestling place, one of the younger kids pointed at the tree trunk and started yelling something I didn't understand in Japanese (who am I kidding, I don't understand anything yelled in Japanese...I don't understand a lot in Japanese). There was a biiiiiiiig beetle (about as big as that last big) scaling the trunk in that nonchalant, two-fingers-to-gravity way that bugs do. The creepy bastards.
After school, getting on for mid-dusk, I went to the river for a run. I've often caught a fly in my mouth, running, or cycling along, but I have to say I've never experienced the pleasures of jogging through a cloud of midges. Several clouds of several thousand midges. So many, in fact, that even going at a fair old pelt there's still enough time as you scramble through to
a. register you have entered a midge cloud
b. cough
c. hack
d. swat left and swat right
e. catch a few in the eyes
f. stumble
g. swat right and left
h. cough
I can tell you reader, it's not the most pleasant nor gracious of ways to stride beside the river.
It was the classic two-footballs-stuck-in-a-tree dilemma, to which I had the classic solution... where's a big stick.
There were lots of parents milling around at club activity time today, as we had the grand send-off ceremony ahead of the city sports tournament this weekend. The slogan adopted is 'You can do it!', which I giggle at every time it's shouted (which Adam Sandler film did that feature in??). They do shout it with such gusto too.
Just after I'd hurled the second ball to it's nestling place, one of the younger kids pointed at the tree trunk and started yelling something I didn't understand in Japanese (who am I kidding, I don't understand anything yelled in Japanese...I don't understand a lot in Japanese). There was a biiiiiiiig beetle (about as big as that last big) scaling the trunk in that nonchalant, two-fingers-to-gravity way that bugs do. The creepy bastards.
After school, getting on for mid-dusk, I went to the river for a run. I've often caught a fly in my mouth, running, or cycling along, but I have to say I've never experienced the pleasures of jogging through a cloud of midges. Several clouds of several thousand midges. So many, in fact, that even going at a fair old pelt there's still enough time as you scramble through to
a. register you have entered a midge cloud
b. cough
c. hack
d. swat left and swat right
e. catch a few in the eyes
f. stumble
g. swat right and left
h. cough
I can tell you reader, it's not the most pleasant nor gracious of ways to stride beside the river.
Sunday 10 June 2007
The Rise and Fall of Bernard the Balloon
No-one knows quite how the blue Family Mart balloon ended up tangled in the grass, next to a path in Yoyogi Park, Tokyo. It was a sunny day and 5 friends had spent a pleasant afternoon throwing a tennis ball and drinking beer in the very same park. The time came for them to go home. By chance, one of the friends spotted the balloon, and she raced over and rescued it from the clutches of the undergrowth and an unthinkable fate, being pecked by a bird or stamped on by a child. The 5 friends went on their merry way with a new companion and Bernard the Balloon was born.
That night, the 6 of them went out on the town. Tokyo is a big place, and it would have been easy to get lost had they not stuck together. First they visited a rollicking drinking establishment. Everyone ate and drank to their content and maybe a little bit beyond! Except Bernard, of course. Being a balloon, he couldn't eat or drink anything, but he had fun nonetheless. At the end of their allotted time on they tumbled, out into the night and the city and the bright, bright lights again.
Onto the underground system and out to the bay area they travelled, skipping merrily down escalators and dashing all the way. Finally they arrived at their ultimate destination: the night club. Inside, Bernard and one of the 5 other friends made a special bond and spent much of the night dancing and bobbing together. The night club was a splendid place: it even had a swimming pool outside, although no-one swam in it. Instead, everyone danced around it. Bernard and his friend circumnavigated the pool several times.
They had a grand old time. Suddenly, Bernard's friend looked up and saw that the others had all left the swimming pool and gone back inside the night club. Without thinking, he hurled Bernard into the middle of the pool, thinking it a fitting end to such a wonderful relationship. 'I'll treasure the memory of you Bernard', he thought, as he threw Bernard.
Inside, he found many, many people dancing, hundreds and hundreds of them. He knew without help, he would never find his friends. Then he had an idea- 'Bernard! Of course!' So he went back to the pool and fished out Bernard before returning to the club. Together they danced and jigged, Bernard held aloft and his friend weaving between people. 'Hopefully they'll see Bernard and come and find me'. But instead, Bernard led his friend straight to the others, near the front of the dance floor. Reunited at last!
The final chapter of the story is sad. Bernard died, a steady exit, withering and deflating in his friend's hands.
But he had a bloody good innings for a balloon.
That night, the 6 of them went out on the town. Tokyo is a big place, and it would have been easy to get lost had they not stuck together. First they visited a rollicking drinking establishment. Everyone ate and drank to their content and maybe a little bit beyond! Except Bernard, of course. Being a balloon, he couldn't eat or drink anything, but he had fun nonetheless. At the end of their allotted time on they tumbled, out into the night and the city and the bright, bright lights again.
Onto the underground system and out to the bay area they travelled, skipping merrily down escalators and dashing all the way. Finally they arrived at their ultimate destination: the night club. Inside, Bernard and one of the 5 other friends made a special bond and spent much of the night dancing and bobbing together. The night club was a splendid place: it even had a swimming pool outside, although no-one swam in it. Instead, everyone danced around it. Bernard and his friend circumnavigated the pool several times.
They had a grand old time. Suddenly, Bernard's friend looked up and saw that the others had all left the swimming pool and gone back inside the night club. Without thinking, he hurled Bernard into the middle of the pool, thinking it a fitting end to such a wonderful relationship. 'I'll treasure the memory of you Bernard', he thought, as he threw Bernard.
Inside, he found many, many people dancing, hundreds and hundreds of them. He knew without help, he would never find his friends. Then he had an idea- 'Bernard! Of course!' So he went back to the pool and fished out Bernard before returning to the club. Together they danced and jigged, Bernard held aloft and his friend weaving between people. 'Hopefully they'll see Bernard and come and find me'. But instead, Bernard led his friend straight to the others, near the front of the dance floor. Reunited at last!
The final chapter of the story is sad. Bernard died, a steady exit, withering and deflating in his friend's hands.
But he had a bloody good innings for a balloon.
Thursday 7 June 2007
The Proudest Dad
K-T got really angry today and roasted some poor little blighters in 1-2 for not doing their homework, or forgetting their textbooks, or something, I didn't really follow. Discipline is handled differently here (gently, mostly) but when they lose their rag, boy do Japanese teachers go all out. I've seen bollockings last a good twenty minutes. 20 minutes of bursts of shrieks and caustic silences that stretch out across the room.
Right after he'd dished out a truncated arse spanking K-T's kei-tai went off. He always has a very cute little ring tone and this latest one was no less twee. His face, his mood changed completely as he sheepishly pulled out his phone and turned it off, before explaining what he thought the call was about.
Today was the first big tournament game for his son, who attends the city high school renowned for sporting prowess. Chuo High School are in the district tournament for baseball, and K-T's son- who usually warms the bench- put them there. Last week they had their last qualification game and K-T's boy came in to bat with a runner on third and the score tied at a miserly 1-1. Before he stepped up to the plate proper though, he paused and pulled off this strange pose.
K-T explained. It was a samurai stance. It was a kabuki actor pose. I got lost, again. Maybe it was a kabuki actor doing a samurai stance. That makes sense, in a Japanese kind of way (it doesn't...). Then Ken hit to the left, enough for the runner to get home and Chuo to win the game and get them to today's tournament game. How fucking wonderful is that?
And now K-T can't stop pulling out pictures of his son he printed off a post on the net by another parent. I caught him at it at cleaning time, flashing them to students and he was visibly swelled with pride last week, 7 whole days before today's roasting and the last time he taught 1-2, as we tackled the lesson material. 'This is my son...This is my son...This is MY son!' They won today too, 5-4.
Right after he'd dished out a truncated arse spanking K-T's kei-tai went off. He always has a very cute little ring tone and this latest one was no less twee. His face, his mood changed completely as he sheepishly pulled out his phone and turned it off, before explaining what he thought the call was about.
Today was the first big tournament game for his son, who attends the city high school renowned for sporting prowess. Chuo High School are in the district tournament for baseball, and K-T's son- who usually warms the bench- put them there. Last week they had their last qualification game and K-T's boy came in to bat with a runner on third and the score tied at a miserly 1-1. Before he stepped up to the plate proper though, he paused and pulled off this strange pose.
K-T explained. It was a samurai stance. It was a kabuki actor pose. I got lost, again. Maybe it was a kabuki actor doing a samurai stance. That makes sense, in a Japanese kind of way (it doesn't...). Then Ken hit to the left, enough for the runner to get home and Chuo to win the game and get them to today's tournament game. How fucking wonderful is that?
And now K-T can't stop pulling out pictures of his son he printed off a post on the net by another parent. I caught him at it at cleaning time, flashing them to students and he was visibly swelled with pride last week, 7 whole days before today's roasting and the last time he taught 1-2, as we tackled the lesson material. 'This is my son...This is my son...This is MY son!' They won today too, 5-4.
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