When worlds collide

Last night Dave brought along a friend of his to dinner - Jennie. At karaoke, she had a voice that could woo angels and I think (I think) I may have sulked "who the hell brought her along, anyway?" , but of course, that's nothing like my true nature, so it couldn't have really happened...

But I digress. At the izakaya, the talk turned to horror movies and it turns out she is a fellow horror movie fiend (I am not alone), but even stranger is that she is a fellow blogger, of the enigmatic Mint Dandy fame, whose exploits I've been following for quite some time now.

She sent me an e-mail today, confessing that she thought she recognised my stories, but didn't want to embarass herself by shouting "You're the 35degrees thingie" but how she didn't recognise me considering the enormous number of mugshots I clutter my site up with, I'll never know...

Crazy, crazy times.

Empty Orchestra

Definition of torture = going to karaoke and not being able to sing 'cos you've lost your voice...

It was Dave's sister, Suzie's, last night in Tokyo so we took them to our local nomiya. Dave had only been to expensive izakayas and not a local hole in the wall - how this is possible after 3 years in the country I'm not sure - so we set up camp on the tatami mat and ordered a bucket-load of beer, yakitori, pork kimchi and the perennial favourite - fried cheese (somehow Japan never graduated from the 1980's).

We had the ditziest waitress, an old duck in her 60's, who was obviously just a ring-in for the evening. One of our conversations (in Japanese) went something like this:

Matt: Excuse me, could we have some plates, please?
DW: Plates?
Matt: Yes. Plates.
DW: [looks confused]. Plates?
Matt: Yes.
DW: Hmmm. What for?
Matt: Erm. To eat from.

[at this stage, the two ladies next to us, who had understood Matt's rather clear Japanese, intercepted and told DW what we wanted]

DW: Heh? Small or large?
Matt: Small is OK.
DW: Small?
Matt: Yes. Thanks.
DW: You want small plates.
Matt: Hmmm. Yes.

Without another word and with a clear look of confusion (who can blame her for not understanding that we wanted something to put our food on?) she disappeared into the kitchen.

So the service wasn't great, but hell, it was entertaining.

Afterward, the guys wanted to go to karaoke so I relented knowing it would be hell. It wasn't of course, but it was damn hard not to belt out a tune...

Takao-san

Takao-San Photo Gallery

Rude blue skies, a day off, and a potter about a mountain-top temple (Yakuo-in). Sigh. Could life get any better? If I'd realised how easy it was to get to Takao-san, I would have gone sooner.

Saturday is the start of the Momijimatsuri in Takao-san, but the leaves are only just beginning to turn. Give them a couple of weeks and the mountain will be awash with reds and oranges.

Of course, millions of Tokyoites know this so expect it to be crazy swamped with tourists.

R.I.P Rodent

We recently discovered the extent of our ex-flatmate, The Rodent's, cheekiness.

You may know that The Rodent is no longer with us (Matt lovingly describes his demise on Opinios). Yup, we finally got him on one of those inhumane "stick-and-starve" traps. It was all very traumatic (Matt wouldn't let me see The Rodent stuck to the trap, preferring to "take care of it himself" - my hero!). But, look, it was either The Rodent or our underwear.

For days prior, we'd been mystified as to how The Rodent had eaten 6 (6!) rat poison sacks and still lived. Were we messing with Super Action Hero Rodent? Maybe there was an army of rodents going through our drawers. We shuddered.

Until Matt discovered in the corner behind the TV, 6 sacks ripped apart and poison spilled everywhere. Ahem... TOYING WITH US! He hadn't eaten a goddamn thing. And he'd pooped all over it for a good measure, in a final "take-this-you-stupid-humans-you-can't-trick-me" display of generosity. You gotta respect The Rodent's intelligence, but not the foul mess he made of our corner.

Ah... ex-flatmates. Believe it or not, I've actually had worse.

In the Nikko of time

I hate waiting. Thankfully, in Tokyo, the well-oiled machine ensures (mostly) that everything runs on time. Unfortunately, not always so for the inaka tourist traps. This weekend in the wilds of Nikko National Park, the machine went horribly wrong.

We thought we'd be sweet - go up on Sunday afternoon, stay the night (at Lodge Narusawa - highly recommended!) then sightsee all of Monday. It wasn't a public holiday so we figured the crowds wouldn't be a problem. Bup-Bow. WRONG!

Our first stop yesterday morning was the huge and fascinating temple complex on Nikko-San. Hato Bus Tours must have been having half-price pensioner Monday or something, as everywhere we turned, obattalions were pushing and prodding and generally pissing us off with their....erm...obattalionness.

There was, of course, a reason for the crowds - "Momijigari" ("Autumn Leaves Viewing") and up in Tochigi, the leaves are frikking stunning. Nikko is one of the most popular places for it and on arrival in the sleepy town, tourists (ahem... us!) get bitten by the red, orange and yellow foliage virus and promptly turn rabid.

Nikko in Autumn Photo Gallery

We thought it would be nice to make the 50 minute journey out to Lake Chuzenji to escape the crowds. 90 minutes later we arrived at the lake which was, well, a lake. Pretty average. Overly touristy and commercialised, and when will the Japanese learn that they don't have to put a swan-shaped pedal boat on every lake in Japan?

We didn't mind the trip up, which was bumper-to-bumper, as it was a.w.e.s.o.m.e. The lake is high up in the mountains, which were coated with Autumn. You see, I have this thing about maple leaves. I f.u.c.k.i.n.g love them. I love them so much, I had one permanently etched on my butt. So, in spite of the fact that Matt and I were still barfing up our respective lungs, I had to see them and for some reason I had to see them in one of the most popular places in Japan. I should be shot.

What the "well-oiled machine" hadn't reckoned on was hundreds of thousands of sightseeing Cujos, frothing up the roads...

At around 2.30, we queued to wait for the bus to take us back to Nikko Station. Behind about 100 people. Buses are scheduled every 30 minutes regardless of season, so when no-one had moved at 3.00 it was no big deal. 3.30 a bus arrived and took 50 people. At 3.45, with the queue winding half-way up the street, train attendents confirmed that there was a problem, and 4 buses were dispatched from Nikko station. Keep in mind that the journey was a decent 2 hours in the godawful traffic.

Finally, at 4.30 one of the en-route buses arrived, and ferried Matt and I away. As we departed from Chuzenji there were still about 300-400 people waiting (if you're reading this and you were one of them - we feel your pain!)

I'm constantly amazed at the Japanese laidback attitude toward the squeaky machine. They sigh and say "Zannen, ne!" (too bad, yeah!) or "Shoganai" (it can't be helped). NO! NOT too bad! 2 hours of waiting for a bus sure as hell CAN be helped. Put more buses on during the busy season, people! It's not like you've never had a packed out Autumn before. SORT IT OUT!

The feistier Japanese frown and say, "Taihen, desu ne!" meaning, in context, "This is pretty fucking average"...

Back in Tokyo now. Virus abated. Calm. Looking forward to "Snow-Viewing-Season".

Little fuckers

In the past fortnight it occurred to us that we have a bit of a mice issue.

We have never seen one of these little fuckers. They make a hell of a racket in the kitchen at around 3am, and in the morning we discover a half-eaten banana (well, we reasoned, it was either mice, or Toshio had gotten himself a liking for bananas), but bugger me if the mice weren't fussy little shits - they left other fruit untouched! Don't they know that there are starving mice in Somalia? But if we hear 'em and dash out to catch them - nothing. Not a frikkin' peep. Phantom mice. Uh-huh.

The last straw came last weekend when I discovered hard little black pellets in my undies drawer. Not only are they pervy mice, they can't even crap like normal animals. They looked more like bullets than poop.

We washed all our clothes (no mean feat) and bought rat poison. Matt wanted to get rat traps but they didn't have the conventional, die-quickly traps, hell no, the new breed of traps are sticky surfaces which glue the mice onto the top, thus, they starve to death. I want these little varmints out of my house, but I don't want them to die painfully.

Well, they eat the poison on the first night but on the second night they don't eat the poison bags, but play hacky-sack with them in the kitchen, leaving them in the genkan (front shoe area) as a gift. They are toying with us, these mice. But there is no more poop and we haven't heard a peep for two nights.

I so empathise with Jeremiah on the mouse issue, but at least it hasn't gotten this bad:

"You see this is what the mice have done, and I have to be somewhat impressed by the intelligence they have demonstrated, they have pooped where I leave my dishes after I wash them to dry. Now I don't want mice using my clean dishes as a toilet. But I have nowhere to put my dishes. So the dishes have been left in the sink, dirty. Very clever, mice. Very clever. But I still have a few tricks up my sleeve. And it's Autumn, so my sleeves are about to get a little longer. Longer sleeves mean that I can shove more tricks in them. If I was the mouse that lived in my apartment, I would be very afraid. It is on, mouse."

It is On.

Benriya

As an independent and stubbornly self-sufficient sort, I find articles like this, about "Benriya" (sellers of convenience) a bit bloody disturbing.

Let me start by saying that, of course, it is not only Japan's society ills which are fucked up, but because I live here, and most of all, because I feel like it, I use this case, a Japanese case, as an example.

I understand that there are times when people become overwhelmed by all of life's minutiae, but I can't help but think that paying for someone to be your guest at your wedding, or to tie your shoelaces is an ominous sign that personal responsibility will one day be a thing of the past.

The reliance on benri-ya and the phenomenon of "shut ins" (people who can't face the outside world so exile themselves in their homes) are, in my opinion, just two signs that this country (be it through cultural expectations, politics, economic decline or a lack of education... I'm just not sure) doesn't prepare its people for independent thought and self-reliance.

And dare I even mention the Japanese reluctance to admit to something that will "lose them face"? This pre-occupation with face and the inability to ask for help, seems to be in opposition with the inability to do certain things and thus needing help. Its a vicious circle.

It's all very great that Benriya have found themselves a little enterpreneurial market in the Japanese dependency cycle, but these people are no better than bookies who take money from compulsive gamblers. There is no addressing the problem, only band-aiding it (and more revoltingly, making money out of it). Oh yes, they act as a "counsellor" for those too scared to look their neighbours in the face, but these people are not professional psychologists. If I went around trying to fix broken down cars, I can guarantee that there'd be a shitload of car accidents.

You could argue that any business, to some extent, feeds off a client's inability to do something for themselves, but when that inability is a deep-rooted sickness, like not having a big enough social circle to invite actual friends and family to your own wedding, but feeling that you have to make up numbers on your side of the church aisle, then something is very fucking wrong...

So ends today's tirade.

I can't get no medication

Being on the homestretch of our smuggled Aussie Codral Day and Nighters, I went in search of some non-caffeinated cold relief.

I pop down to Pops (our local "drug store") and ask what is good for a cold.... but that I won't be requiring anything with caffeine. The pharmacist looks momentarily perplexed, then grudgingly points to the Contac Day and Night tablets. Relief! She then goes on to say that only the night tablets don't have caffeine, but hey! the daytime tablets are chockful of it! All I want is a flu tablet that doesn't have caffeine in it! Is it too much to ask?

I don't know about you, but when I have a cold I really don't feel like bouncing off the walls during the day. I want to exist in a nice antihistamine-filled inertia. Unfortunately, here, the concept of rest when you have the flu is met with confoundment. Which is weird, cos the Japanese I know, trot off to the docs if they have even a sniffle. How about trying to get some REST, people?????

Excuse my diatribe - I am feeling a little miserable.

Trouble in paradise

Have succumbed to the nasty virus that's been going around and am having a day of rest. Unlike the die-hard Japanese who insist on going to work even though they're hocking up a year's worth of mucus, or barfing up a lung, I refuse to infect others (particularly an entire junior high school) and thus, am quarantining myself in bed...

35 Degrees is...

.... celebrating a birthday!

A big thank you to everyone who has visited my site in the last year. 35 Degrees is a year old today, and has scored over 30,000 visitors. I'm flattered, but haven't y'all got something better to do?

Lego fun for the whole family

Lego fun for the whole family!

Kairo

If you want to see a movie that chillingly portrays the undercurrent feeling of isolation in Tokyo, watch Kairo. As well as being f@#*ing scary, in a ghosty-under-the-kotatsu way, its a melancholy take on post-spiritual-armaggedon Japan.

Matt has decided to hate me though. "Why do you put me through such things? It scared the living crap out of me!!!" HA! To toughen you up, my friend, to toughen you up.

Pah! I am bad girlfriend!

Mind on my money

A few weeks ago I was pondering the phenomenon of Japanese people insisting on paying for us when we went out to dinner. Last night, we had some friends around, and a few stories were told about the other extreme...

One story involved one of our guests, lets call him "Albert". Last week was his second-to-last class with a group of students and there was talk of them taking "Albert" out to dinner. "Albert" said that sounds lovely, but lets go to a cheap, blue-collar nomiya where we can get pissed and eat standard izakaya food for next to nix.

Well, come his last class (last Friday) he discovers that they have already made a reservation at a place in Shinjuku. They all show up to the izakaya, which turns out to be an expensive, posh-o izakaya, with a high-priced (but still standard fare) menu. "Albert" had an average time, these students not being among his favourites, but when the bill came out at 4,000 yen ($A60) per head, the students did not even offer to pay for him. Now, "Albert" is not one for begrudging a few thou for a good night out, but after he'd suggested going to a cheap place, he was understandably pissed off.

I don't pretend to know what was going on with these students' behaviour, as, to be honest, I think its a bizarre exception to the rule. But Akio (our Osakan friend who's more Aussie than his wife, Catherine) gave us some insight into the attitudes toward money here...

It comes down to one word - Show. Its all Show. For someone growing up in Japan, 4,000 yen doesn't seem like a lot of money; its only when we convert it to the aussie/canadian/american dollar that we step back and say, "fuck mate, that's a bit rich, innit?" And many Japanese simply don't acknowledge that maybe some people can't afford to pay top-dollar for a few sakes and a couple of rolls of sushi.

The people who lavishly order the most expensive items on a menu in order to present an air of extravagance, are often the same people who eat ramen in their shitty little apartments for the rest of the week. And there is an expectation that everyone else does the same and should pay up big when the bill comes.

A similar attitude can be seen among the chicks who MUST HAVE their designer Louis Vuitton bags. Now, these bags are the fugliest brown and cream monstrosities known to man, but because they have the LV label they are seen as a necessity. Keep in mind that the LV bags do not appeal to a specific demographic - women of all ages from late teens to late 80's obachans (grandmothers) tote these motherfuckers (Akio calls these bags "Oba-tton").

But the girls who fork out around $A1000 to buy the world's drabbest accessory, do not all have wealthy families, high-paying jobs or filthy old sugar-daddies to support them. They go without other stuff (like FOOD for example) to pay for them.

Yeah, I know materialism exists in all societies, but its obscene here, it really is. I understand the Japanese need to keep "face" and know that sometimes this translates as having to put on a big, expensive show to keep status with colleagues and friends, but if you offer to take someone out to thank them for teaching you for 6 months, then for fucks sake, offer to pay for them!

Keiko?

There's nothing quite like being mistaken for a Japanese. I had this conversation today with a Japanese lady (in Japanese) at the train station as I was locking my bike (in the No Parking section but, really, lets not go into that):

Stranger: Excuse me.
Kinki: [standing up and looking at stranger]: Yes?
Stranger: [looking startled and slightly bewildered] Keiko-san? [Pause] Not Keiko-san.
Kinki: Yes. Not Keiko-san.

Kinki's guide to a good karaoke night

Some karaoke nights are better than others. Last night we went out with a bunch of friends we haven't seen for awhile, about half japanese, half foreigners. It was both a good night and a flat night for a few reasons;

flat because:

* the beer was shit;

* it was a Friday night so after a busy day, everyone was seriously fucked (mental note to insist on Saturdays in future);

* it took nearly half an hour for someone (ahem, me) to even put in a tune. There was all the enthusiasm of a wet rabbit in a sunshower at the beginning;

* a couple of people DIDN'T SING! Hello, its K.A.R.A.O.K.E. Why pay all that money for shit beer when you don't even belt out a tune. Weird;

good because:

* since the Japanese girlies weren't getting into the songs, a few of us hogged the mike in a big way. This may have disturbed some viewers, but hell, if you don't sing, then I'm gonna;

* Nick Proth's rockin' rendition of Born to be Wild;

* it was good to see the Japanese girlies we haven't seen for awhile;

* I was the only foreign girl there (happens a lot in our group of friends, foreign boys, japanese girlies... and me) so I could sing all the girlie girlie songs with a coquettishly breathy, porn voice (like "Lovefool"), unchallenged.

* once you drank about 5 pints of the shit beer, it started to taste... OK!

2 years and counting....

Oh! And today is our 2 year anniversary of Japan residence. Funny. Doesn't seem a day over 10.

Uncanny resemblance

Has anyone ever noticed the striking resemblence between Sadako from "Ringu" and Kate Bush from her "Wuthering Heights" days? Right down to the white dress and puffy sleeves. Koinkidink?

To sleep, perchance to dream...

Right. This is getting ridiculous. It has been a month since I saw Ju-on 2 and I'm still having nightmares. Up until about 6 years ago I never talked in my sleep and since then I've woken myself (and whoever else was in the room with me) by shouting or moaning, about once every 6 months. Last night, it was the word "Toshio" which woke me, so yeah, the dream was a real corker.

Then, at 4.30, there was a god almighty crash in our apartment, which woke us both up with a "what the fuck was that"? Turns out a water bottle had fallen into the kitchen sink. How it managed to just fall into the kitchen sink, is anyone's guess, but at least it wasn't our little blue friend whacking his (dead) head on the floor.

In fact, our apaato has been creeping us out a bit lately. Its a cacophony of little sounds - scrapes, rattles, knocks and wheezes, compounded by the fact that our walls are a mite thicker than heavy cardboard, so next-door's noises, sound like they're coming from inside our heads. And don't even start Matt on the ominous black marks mysteriously appearing on the walls (dry rot, anybody???)

It is bliss having one deaf ear. Honestly. If someone came up to me and said there was a miraculous new operation I could have so I could hear again from that ear, I would howl in protest. "No frikkin way", I would cry, "get that scalpel away from me!" It's sooooo handy to block out late-night stomach rumbles, Kayako's creaking, and Matt's snores, all in one shift of pillow-sides. Lovely, really.

Now if only that dead little Toshio fucker would just get out of my head, my sleep would be the sleep of angels.

*Star* me kitten

During the past week, a couple of my loveable little first year kittens have added a new expression to their (rather low) english repertoire...

"Fuck you!"

They thought they were being soooooo cutting edge and licentious, but if they'd deserved a response, it would be something like;

"Can't you come up with something original?" Little shits.

Lazy girl

Have had a laaaaaazy long weekend so far. Slept for most of it, just because I could. Filthy really. Watched "The Eye" last night - brilliant stuff. Not planning on doing much today, but considering its "School Sports Day" (ergo, a day off), my futon, a cup of tea and "Wild Swans" is looking good right about now...

Great Expectations

Watched "Ringu" and "Ringu 2" last night. They were. OK. I expected "Ringu" to fire off all my fright-neurons, but alas, it did not. The only scene that could have been frightening, when Sadako goes after the professor, was unfortunately marred by memories of SMAP's Kusanagi doing a take-off of that very scene about a year ago. I couldn't take it at all seriously (damn SMAP!). But to be fair, I'd had 3 years of build-up and people saying "It's soooooooooo scary" so I guess my expectations were unreasonably high.

"Ringu 2" was a bit surreal (although not bad) but why, WHY do they have to spoil horror movies with cheesy Japanese TV music at crucial moments! People, really.

"Ringu" was probably the first in the new-wave of horror movies with bat-wing haired she-demon antagonists, and since then, other Japanese directors have taken a lot of "Ringu"'s themes and made them better and scarier (in my opinion). "Ju-on 2" shat all over "Ringu" in terms of setting my nerves (of self-confessed steel) on edge and staying with me for a loooooong time after. I'm still a bit nervous about putting our kotatsu blanket over our kotatsu after that one...

Let the horror fest begin...

Fuckin' yay! Today, I received a veritable kaleidoscope of Asian horror DVDs in the mail, care of my new best friend, Ebay. The Eye, The Ring Trilogy and Rasen! And for a fraction of the price it would have cost me in this fiscally god-forsaken land. Most DVDs here cost between 3,000 and 4,000yen a pop (A$45-60). Outrageous!

Also made the fab-o discovery of a certain new(ish) Korean horror "Voice" (a film better known as "Phone" to those not living in Japan's quasi-wonderland) being available in GEO for rent with ENGLISH SUBTITLES. Bugger me stunned.

Living in the dark ages

Sometimes it knocks you over the head, just how behind the times Japan is. Take this article about helper dogs in Japan. This law came into effect in Japan this month! In contrast, Australia legislated that guide dogs be allowed in all public places (including restaurants) in 1992!

I guess Japan is taking (small) steps to make it easier for disabled people to get around (take those cumbersome wheelchair pulleys at some train stations that can drag wheelchairs up to street level) , but overall, this is one pretty fucking hard place to get around if you aren't able bodied. Although they do have in place, raised, bumped paths on the ground for blind people to orient themselves, which is something.

For train companies that can afford spotless trains to run every 5 minutes, a good chunk of them full to the brim with commuters, then surely they can afford to put elevators (or escalators) from the platform to street level at all stations, particularly considering Japan's ageing population. Most recent reports put the figure at 1 in 5 Japanese being over 65 years old.

Survivor

It continues to crack me up, the number of fast food/stand-up and slurp ramen/soba/udon joints that sit perched on the platforms of major train stations.

It's testament to the fucking enormous population of Tokyo, that an establishment can cater to the demographic of one train line (for example, you can only eat at the "Soup Stock" cafe at Shinagawa station, if you've bought a ticket on the Keikyu line) and still survive.

more cheese?

I wonder if its possible to eat so much leftover camembert and brie that your arteries actually start speaking french? I know they're definitely screaming one thing - "Quit it with the damn cheese already!"

Any excuse...

When you send out an invitation for a house party that says, "from 7:30pm" there is an understanding that you don't turn up til 9 at the earliest. It is an unwritten rule. In Japan, people turn up at 7.15. That's right. 7.15. Not that there's anything wrong with this; I mean, hell, we throw a good shin-dig, but this being early for a party business is not really something we're used to!

We hadn't had a party at our place for awhile, so in the time-honoured Aussie tradition of "Any excuse for a piss-up", we broke out the wine and cheese last night. As our apartment is about the size of a walk-in wardrobe, it was impossible to invite everyone we wanted to (being both incredibly social and popular (!@#???!!!@#$)) and as we'd become quite good friends with some people from work (both teachers and staff), we kept it in that family.

We work with some excellent people, but when you're in the office (a place I try to avoid at all costs), everyone is stressed to the eyeballs and you only get to see that (sometimes scary) side. But let me tell you, when you get some bevvies and brie into them, it's all on. And the personalities spurt out of nowhere to hit you over the head (a good thing!).

The house party phenomenon is still a bit of a rarity in Japan - its usual for Japanese people to meet friends out at a restaurant or izakaya because their apartments are so small or they still live with their parents. But Matt and I like to push the boundaries of how many people we can possibly fit into a 2LDK. Turns out its around 20 people and 15 bottles of wine.

Unfortunately, Japanese people generally turn up to parties early for one reason (OK, a reason besides being born into the cult of "be on time, as your life depends on it"). They have to get the last train home, which, for most of them, was 11.30pm. Don't ask me why foreigners turn up early. I'm still figuring that one out.

Now, for the next week, Matt and I will be eating, breathing and shitting leftover cheese. Hmmmmmm.

Pooper-dooper

What the hell is it with women who insist on crapping all over public toilet rims? Granted, the ubiquitous Asian squat toilet lends itself to the possiblity of one missing the bowl, but for chrissakes clean up after yourself if you're gonna go kamikaze with your poop.

I had a 10 hour teaching day today (shit, you mean I have to work for my money?), was in and out of train stations (nature always calls when you're stranded near the filthiest loos) and saw enough diva-doo to fertilize a vegie garden.

This did not make me feel clean.

A Nobody in Japan

Honestly kids, Tokyo peak hour trains are not really this bad (and where the hell did my toes go?). Have you never been on a St Kilda Road bound tram during rush hour? And who the hell is this John Eales fellow? Rugby you say?

Poor Nemo!

Poor Nemo!