A Smile is the Best Make-Up

Exactly how long does it take to do one's make-up? According to this saucy temptress, the 25 minute train-ride from Yomiuriland-mae to Shimokitazawa...

Ah, the best laid plans... the goal last night was to spend from 5 to 8pm at Steve and Eiko's House Party, then trek into Gaienmae for Mark's Piss-off Piss-Up til 11.30pm. By 8pm, it became obvious we weren't going anywhere. One reason is that Steve lives near Yomiuri-Land. Do you know where Yomiuri-Land is? No, didn't think so. Its in. Woop Woop. Sincerely.

The other reasons were also very simple. It was pissing down outside (Mother Nature, we have got to talk), we were very. very. drunk and were having too good a time to leave. OK, so we're Optimists. Sue us.

Fuck, I felt bad though. Mark is a good mate and he's leaving Tokyo next week. If Hell were a guilty conscience, I am prone to swimming in fire and brimstone (not particularly good for the complexion, as you can tell from these photos). He's a popular guy though, so I'm sure he didn't miss us too much (!!@#$!!!!).

Discretion

You gotta love the staff at your local combini.

Whenever I go in to buy "feminine hygiene products", they always lovingly place the item into a brown paper bag then put it into the obligatory combini plastic bag, in spite of my futile insistence that I really don't need both bags, that I'd rather put the item straight into my bag and save a small island nation from being buried in paper and plastic waste.

Bless 'em for thinking they're doing me a favour and protecting me from the "embarassment" of everyone knowing, but in actual fact they are helping advertising the fact, cos everyone knows what the "brown bag" means...

Dear Mother Nature #2

It seems you have taken my request to heart. I do apologise for my surly tone of yesterday. I know you are doing your best under some trying conditions. Today seems to be perfect study day and for that I thank you very kindly.

All the best

Kinki

PS. The Autumn leaves at Takao-San were magical. Please find a photo enclosed. But next year, do you think you could do something about the cherry blossoms? We leave at the end of April, see, and would appreciate an early season. I'll leave that with you for now.

Takao-San Photo Gallery Part 2

...to knit or not to knit?

Charlie over at Japaneze wonders whether I'm a knitter. An interesting question. Actually, no. Its not and I feel bad that he had so much time on his hands for such musings.

I hate knitting. I tried knitting when I was 10 and made the ugliest piece of ass-crap I've ever seen. I have no patience for needlework. What do you think I am - a Virgo?

Dear Mother Nature

Thank you for your hard and varied work. In the last two weeks, I have enjoyed some extreme contrasts in weather - warm September temperatures, icy days with cruel blue sunny skies (oh perfection!) and lets not forget the torrential downpour of yesterday which, unfortunately, wrecked my boots (OK, so they were already falling apart, this is hardly the point). I respect your continued flying in the face of Japanese meteorologists and creating a heady mix of unlikely weather.

But, here's the thing. I have a Japanese exam in little over a week. Don't you understand that when I have a day off from work, I. need. to. study. Ergo, a day pouring with rain (preferably sleet) where all I can do is sit underneath the kotatsu with past exams is required. Not stunning blue skies where I am compelled (you heard me, compelled) to view more autumn leaves.

I appreciate that I have a sickness and this sickness is my problem. I'm not blaming you. But you could help me out a little here.

Damn you Mother Nature. This could mean the difference between passing and failing. Are you forcing me to choose between Autumn leaves and my Exam? Is this some kind of freaking test? You're one sick mama aint ya?

Now, I do have tomorrow off as well. I'm not demanding that you send me dark clouds (no, that would be far too Australian of me), just letting you know my position and the ideal turn of events. I'm sure we understand each other.

Thank you for your attention to this matter.

Keep up the good work and I'm sure the Autumn leaves will look stunning today.

Kinki

Comparisons anyone?

Comparisons anyone?

Perfect Weekend

OK. Fine. No really, that's fine. I mean it, its perfectly OK. I appreciate that you were right and I was wrong. Yellow autumn leaves are cool. I'll admit it. I'm strong enough to acknowledge that you win and I lose.

I still uphold that red maples are the defining tree of autumn, but the yellow thingamies for which I have no name, are very special.

This past weekend (including today, cos its, like, a holiday) has been seriously entrenched in R&R. Matt and I have been working really hard lately with teaching, Japanese study (actually, that's a complete lie, neither of us have been motivated to study at all, but can you imagine how much energy it takes to feel guilty about it???) and "cleaning our room" (bah! another lie...) and I took it upon myself to plan a bit of a cruisy, outdoorsy weekend.

Saturday

After a substantial sleep-in, we had a most leisurely lunch at Ronion, an Italian restaurant overlooking the lake at Shakujii Koen. For a couple of little Aussie battlers longing for a piece of the motherland in Japan, Ronion is the closest we've come. It has an al-fresco porch, a second floor patio, and a labyrinth of rooms inside, like something straight out of the Dandenongs or Studley Park Boathouse. We tucked into the wine (no Saturday lunch is complete without it, I'm sorry) and watched the endless stream of joggers, fishermen and families strolling the park.

After lunch, we took a boat out onto the lake. After publicly maligning the omnipresent (yet hideous) swan-shaped boats, I had to have one of them. You know, to overcome my aesthetic phobia of hideous swan-shaped boats, not cos they looked kinda cool or anything. It was. Fun. But I tend to associate rowing (or in this case, paddling) boats to the centre of the lake with getting quietly sozzled on wine and "accidentally" clipping other people's boats. Sadly, this is not the norm in Japan. I discovered the brutal truth that I'm not really Japanese at all.

30 minutes later we were back on land. We explored the park (which was dripping with autumnal foliage, very pleased, me) and ended up in a small enclosed park where we unwittingly gatecrashed a party of around 50 people. As we scanned the party, we realised that something was not quite right. There was. something. amiss. It took us a few moments to realise that in addition to the 50 humans were about 40 odd rabbits. On leashes. With bright colourful jumpers to keep them from the cold. We had stumbled onto a Rabbit Convention. I'm not kidding.

We quizzed one of the owners about the rabbits and discovered that a couple of times a year, the unofficial rabbit lovers association congregate in this very park for the rabbits to fraternise. Not many of the rabbits were making new friends, however. The moment one rabbit saw another rabbit to his or her liking, the owner would give it a reassuring tug on the leash. Baaaaaaaaad rabbit.

The only rabbit not on a leash, was making up for his cohorts' lost opportunities and attempting to copulate frantically with everything in sight, like an E-ridden raver at Docklands.

The owner (in perfect English) then went on to educate us that rabbits in fact, did not like the leashes, and as they were quite resistant to cold, didn't even enjoy the little jumpers! No fucking kidding!

Shakujii Koen Photo Gallery

In the afternoon, we went to see Kyoko's father's exhibition in Roppongi. His works are amazing, such attention to detail and unique, but as they're so traditional and a serious specialty item, not many had been sold when we got there. It was good to see Kyoko again though, who looked ever so cute in her red kimono.

For dinner, a motley crew of friends got together with plans to go to Roppongi Hills. I'm sure the Hills is all very fancy and new and fashionable blah di blah blah, but it left me cold. Maybe we were in the wrong part. It just seemed like a monotone maze of polished wood and glass. Soulless. A bit like a Louis Vuitton handbag. And of course, all the restaurants had queues 30 deep, so Ingo came to the rescue with talk of Erawan, a Thai restaurant in another part of Roppongi. It was magnificent. As well as the food and wine being awesome, every table in the place was afforded with 180 degree views of Tokyo, with Tokyo Tower (not much chop in the daytime, but stunning at night) as the centrepiece.

Sunday

In keeping with the rather natsukashii mother-land feel of the weekend, we had a slap-up brunch at Fujimamas in Harajuku, which has possibly the best Eggs Benedict our miso-infested taste buds have ever jumped at (and that's a mighty call, coming from the brunch capital of the world - Melbourne if you didn't know). Truly sublime. And of course, no Sunday brunch is complete without a glass of wine. I'll thank you to keep your comments about alcoholics to yourselves, please.

Matt then went home to study (hang on! conscientiousness was not part of the weekend plan!) while I explored Yoyogi Park (can you believe I've never been?) and the Cosplay troupe on Harajuku bridge. In addition to the magical yellows and reds of the park (OK, it was Yoyogi Park that converted me to the Cult of Yellow), was non-stop entertainment, including practising cheerleaders, four young guys with Japanese parasols doing coordinated parasol.... stuff in time to "Bohemian Rhapsody", three rockabilly Danny Zukos prancing and playing air guitar, and a group of ten drummers, drumming.

One thing you could never fault the Japanese for - they are not remotely self-conscious about being publicly seen as utter dags.

Yoyogi Park and Harajuku Photo Gallery

Made a slap-up Mexican tortilla feast for tea and tucked into "The Ring", the U.S remake (which stars two antipodeans, but anyway...) which, in my humble opinion, was, erm.... better than the original. I love my Japanese horrors, but the U.S version of Ringu was a lot more cohesive. No scarier, though.

Monday

Hmmmm, today, today, what's in store for today? As Matt's still asleep and I'm finally alone with the computer, I'm envisaging sweet fanny adams. Although I did wake up to the news that our buddies Andrew and Kathleen got engaged! Hehe, another couple enter the ranks of official shackled bliss. Onya guys...

The State of the Maple

You might as well add another quirk to the below list - obsession with seasonal festivals and the pursuit of perfection. When the cherry blossoms came out this year, and the prime viewing times were marred by rain or wind, I howled in disappointment. I tried to attend every fireworks display during Hanabi season in summer and just ended up exhausted, feverish and anxious.

So when whispers of "Momijigari" (autumn leaves viewing) started way back in October, my ears pricked up and I left no stone unturned seeking all the best places to see them in and around Tokyo. Witnessing the incredible display in Nikko was not enough. I wanted more. I needed more.

I set out on all the picture-perfect days to see magical displays of scarlet (don't try telling me the yellow trees signify autumn as well - I simply won't listen), but one thing became annoyingly clear...

...the Maples have not conformed to the Japanese ideal of always being on time. Hrmph. They call themselves Japanese Maples! I think not. They are TWO weeks tardy according to the japanese almanac. Not. good. enough.

So to assuage my feelings of betrayal, I have charted, in photos, the Maple's progress throughout Tokyo, showcasing various parks, temples and shrines. Stay tuned for the next instalment of...

The State of the Maple.

Turning Japanese

Some tell-tales signs that I've gone to the other (dark) side;

1. I fall into a dead-sleep on the train and wake up the moment I get to my stop;

2. It takes me a day to make a decision that two years ago, I'd make in 5 minutes;

3. I have become a nose pusher (oh god, noooooooo!). If someone compliments me or asks me a question, I point to my nose and ask, "Atashi???" ("Who, me???");

4. I can walk in high school issued slippery brown slippers without falling out of them;

5. I answer difficult questions with a surprised, "Heh?" and tilt my head to one side (Matt tells me this is rather annoying);

6. Wearing white stiletto heels with black patterned knee-high socks no longer seems strange;

7. I can't imagine life without tatami or an o-furo;

8. I can ride a bicycle one-handed in the pouring rain, holding an umbrella (haven't quite mastered the art of holding a small child and talking on the keitai at the same time, though);

9. My English has become deformed to the point where I have been known to say, "This New Years I will make a trip to Kyushu";

10. I can dip myself into a scalding hot bath without shrieking "You motherfucker!".

...but when will I be able to tie my own obi?

Hanging Scrolls Exhibition

If you're interested in traditional Japanese art, our friend, Kyoko's father is having an exhibition and sale of his handmade folding screens and hanging scrolls this coming Saturday (22nd) and Sunday (23rd) in Roppongi.

Train Etiquette

Much is made of the Do's and Don'ts on the train. In fact, there is even the prolific "Manners" series of posters, adorning station walls, spouting the unofficial law of etiquette.

Don't use a mobile phone Don't sit on a silver seat if a pregnant woman or elderly person is standing (half the population, but I no complain) Don't wear a backpack when the train is crowded Don't take up two seats (a favourite of senior high school students) Don't do your makeup on the train.

So what the hell happened to the Manners Poster lecturing, Don't pick your nose and eat it? In the past three days I've seen 2 adults, one woman, one guy, with their fingers wedged either up a nostril or in their mouth without the least degree of self-consciousness.

The Manners people can be forgiven. I thought this was an obvious No No, up there with No urinating on the train seats and No fornicating in the doorways.

But it seems some people out there are just not getting the hint...

Please Sir, can I have some votes?

Now Photoblogs.org has gone and re-designed its site (much better too, its a cracker!) they've reset all the votes for each site, which means little Kinki has become a photoblogs.org pauper and has to amass votes from scratch.

If you like the photos on this site (hell, even if you don't) please cast your vote for moi, via this link.

Yoroshiko onegaishimasu!

Weekend shoji

Whenever I ask a Japanese person on a Monday, what they did on the weekend, 9.5 times out of ten, they will say, "I cleaned my house" or "I cleaned my room".

Do these people really spend their weekends cleaning their pads, or do they think that anything else they may have done on the weekend is too personal for public airing? Can anyone shed light on this?

Design Festa

It's official. We're celebrities.

We'd (Matt, Martine and I) been at the Design Festa for maybe 10 minutes before three girls we'd never set eyes on, approached us.

One of the girls first hugged Matt (he didn't mind), then the lovely Noellie, turned to me and said, "Sorry to intrude, but I wanted to say I love your blog and I read it all the time." Uh-huh. Martine was off to the side thinking, "What about me, what about my site?"

Noellie then turned to Martine and said, "I absolutely love your photos!" Uh-huh. I'm off to the side thinking, "What about me, what about my photos???"

They then told us they were Celebrity Spotting. Well, bugger me with a chopstick. I hope they did better than us! Surreal. Sincerely.

At the Design Festa, everyone was a celebrity. It was the epicentre of all things alternative, arty, experimental, creative and just plain fuck-me weird. Painters, manga artists, computer animators, performers, disc-jockeys, butoh dancers, photographers, teenage cos-players, hopped-up pink girlie jesters and drag-queens all congregated at Tokyo Big Sight to give their own particular quirk some floor space. Fascinating stuff.

Some of the more interesting (read: strange) exhibits (though given that there were thousands of exhibitors, a mere thimble):

* a three foot high baby doll which nodded and had a foot long booger coming out of its nose;

* a "toilet cubicle" with pink poo in the toilet bowl which you were meant to pick up. The girl giggled, "Okashii, ne!" (strange, huh!) but of course, I thought she said "Okashi" (sweets) so I was about to eat it. God, what's wrong with me?;

* a life-size mannequin of a schoolgirl with her pants around her knees;

* a series of figurines depicting human sushi;

* some strange Duran Duran-esque performance art with a bloke taking "pictures" of the audience. Very "Girls on Film". Ah, takes me back.

The exhibit that most freaked me out though, was one of beautiful, but sinister, porcelain dolls. I went to take a photo of one auburn-haired doll, whose gaze was fixed to the front. The flash didn't work so I took another. As the flash went off, this little virginal pooka looked right up at me, I s.w.e.a.r t.o. g.o.d.

We showed the exhibitor the shots and she nodded in that very Japanese quasi-understanding way which said "Oh yes, I would imagine my little darling would do that. She doesn't like bright lights you see..."

Ass-crap if you ask me.

Design Festa Photo Gallery

J-Jazz

I hate Roppongi. It is the skanky, sleazy armpit of Tokyo. When you come up from the Subway, it actually smells like raw meat. I kid you not.

BUT tucked away past Roppongi Hills is Misty a tiny, hole-in-the-wall Jazz Bar. Not the only cool place in Roppongi, but it was where Kat invited us last night. Matt, me, about 14 University of Orgeon/Waseda University students and a handful of Japanese watched the funky MKQ, a quintet of middle-aged groovers who looked like salary-men just come off a 14 hour "work-day".

The music was s.u.p.e.r.b. Double bass, xylophone, piano and drums. We fuckin' love jazz, but haven't been to see any in Tokyo yet. The laidback, cosy Jazz and Wine atmosphere comes at a price, though, but at what price, Heaven?

Also headed out to Sengakuji, the resting home of the 46 Ronin (masterless samurai). There were originally 47 but I don't know what happened to the other one. Nice little temple but not at all flash.

Pilgrims Progress

Our merry adventure in Japan has been one helluv' an education. From a "life experience" (ugh, excuse my prattishness, people) point of view, its probably the most rockin' arse thing I've ever done...

There are obvious challenges like beating down language and cultural barriers (with my own personalised sledgehammer style) and infiltrating the Japanese "system" (with varied success), but the biggest thing for me has been ye ol' personal journey.

In 1995, I sailed (well, flew, but why spoil a perfectly good adventure?) to Canada after uni, with a few grand (Aussie dollar was stronger than the Canadian at the time), no job, no friends and a trolley full of expectations. It was a fucking bonanza. I'd always been an independent little hussy, but here I had to depend on my independence.

7 years later, I sailed to Japan with a completely different set of circumstances. I was jaded in my job, about as fresh as a rotting tulip, no idea what to expect in Japan and I had a boyfriend (and still no friends). It would be our first experience living together. At the time, I was in a place where I honestly didn't think I'd be able to live with a partner without killing them.

Matt is still alive (Matt? Matt????). In fact, the man is thriving. As am I. We've had sincere rough patches, being broke (having to fork out 5 months rent on Aussie dollars when the exchange rate was around .54), living in an apartment the size of a generous Aussie living room and enduring two infernal Tokyo summers ("Not a big deal?" I hear you say! I dare you to try one of the miserable fuckers.)

But! (and at the risk of sounding like a contrite tosser) has it ever made us stronger! For the first time in my life I've had no choice but to compromise with someone I love in a fairly bizarre, non-English-speaking country. For lots of couples this puts an unbearable strain on their relationship - some crack, others fortify. The fact that we've survived in an ostensibly strange culture, for an extended period of time, tells me we can deal with anything life hurls at us. Of course, you can never know for sure, but in the world we live in now, its just about as good as it gets.

That's not to say its all been Hell - far from it. In amongst the excessive and frustrating quagmire that is Tokyo, is a magical, if contradictory place which no longer phases us. Amuses and bemuses, you bet, but rarely these days do you hear us wailing, "When the merry lord Jesus do we get out of this country anyways?"

And after 2 years, I look around and think "Fuck, I live here." Objectively, Japan is a strange place. So many ways of thinking and customs are different (obviously) but in my heart, its not strange at all. Familiarity has bred, not contempt, but an odd sort of of belonging. An illusion? Maybe, but I'm satisfied with it.

Hmmmm, makes me want to chuck a 6.30 am Beyonce and belt out "Survivor" at our local karaoke-kan. Things can't possibly be bad then, can they?

Urban Oasis

Sure, Tokyo is crowded, hectic and it smells real (real) bad sometimes, but once you get in the groove, life here is achingly convenient. On a weekday, I get out of bed, take the train to wherever my classes are, walk to the client, walk back, take the train home and after a few sherbies, hit the sack. Easy, yes, but if you don't stop and drag your brain out of your shoes occasionally, one day you could wake up and find yourself lobotomised.

One of my clients is in a very uninteresting, industrial part of Ota-ku, near Haneda Airport. For two years I've taken the same path past the garbage disposals (you can't even begin to imagine the putrification of this area in summer) over the effluent infested river to the training centre, like a zombie on valium.

Today, a glimpse of red caught my eye at the end of an alley as I was walking to class, and, having a bit of time to kill, I investigated what turned out to be the local shrine of a proud working class and a bevy of stray felines. Ha! It's just as well I had my kawaii little Sony Cybershot on me...

Sorry, I know 4 is an unlucky number, but I'm too tired to be superstitious...

Festa!

I'm all pumped for the Design Festa this Saturday and Sunday - believe it or not, the biggest design festival in Japan!!! Can you beat that? I would actually like to know how many design festivals there are to make that comparison, but I am trying to cast out the cynical demon, so, ahem, I will simply attend and be very enjoyment. Yes.

Bobby and Twinko

Today I inherited another Junior High school in my ward (thanks Mark) that I L.O.V.E. I love my other skewl, but I really really love this new one.

First off, two of my second grade girls came up to me after the lesson, arm in arm and cooed, "Goodbye Kim-sensei. You are sooooooo beautiful." Ya. Uh-huh. Sure.

When I arrived at my third grade lesson, some students had already written my name on the board, with a big fat, pink, loveheart after it. Choooooo kawaiiiiiii. Ya. Uh-huh.

The teacher of my first grade lesson, introduced "Japanese Corner!" on my ass, where the kids said the phrases in English and I had to translate them... into Japanese. Ya. I actually had to work for my bacon today. The teacher had given all her students foreign monikers, so instead of Yamamoto-kun and Iwahashi-san, I had Bob, Bobby, Snake and Twinko.

Every day. A new experience to bite me lovingly on the arse. Uh-huh.

Feeling used?

I don't believe I linked to Mikimoto in my last post, like they need any more business. Hrmph. Places I don't mind plugging, however, are used books stores in Tokyo that trade English-language books, as they are thin. on. the. ground.

I am a rapacious reader and books are terribly expensive in Japan if you go to the biggies like Kinokuniya or Junkudo (although you do get the funky plain paper book protectors so people can't see what you're reading...). So used books stores are an oasis for little ol' ex-pats like myself.

Traditionally, Good Day Books in Ebisu has been the cornerstone of the market, but others have been coming out of the woodwork, too. Good Day Books has a good selection, but it can be overpriced. If you're in the area, try Caravan Books in Ikebukuro (Our local, and cheaper (albeit less well-organised) than Good Day with a dinky little cafe to boot) and Bondi Books in Kichijoji (No fiction over 600yen).

The brilliant thing about all these stores, of course, is that you can buy, sell and trade, a necessity for the temporary resident and literary cannibal.

Christmas in November

For an essentially non-Christian country, Christmas sure does come early in Japan. "Oooooh", cries the latent cynic, "surely not an excuse to cash in on the Christian calendar's gift-giving nadir???"

Mikimoto has gotten in on the act - their Ginza store Christmas tree is already aglow. "Hmmmm" muses the latent gold-digger, "maybe Santa (you know who you are) will bring me the gift of pearls this year!?!?".

Don't get me wrong, I love Christmas, particularly because I can pig out (pearls before swine?) with few pangs of guilt all in the name of Jesus, but the christian world has been held ransom to the horrifically commercialised Christmas propaganda thing, and nowhere does it seem more obvious than in Japan, who really has no excuse to cash in. But these days, what's sacred, really when the country's economy is gurgling down the drain?

In less cynical news, Matt and I ventured into Ginza, not to critique Japan's merry merchandising, but to dine at our new favourite izakaya chain, Hana Noren. We set up camp at one of the tatamied (speeling?) sunken tables and got quietly sloshed on a variety of ridiculously sweet fermented fruit liquor, umeshu (plum), momoshu (peach), remonshu (lemon) and budoushu (grape). Man, that shit's good.

The gaggle of salary-men in the private room next to ours, though, were getting not so quietly sloshed, singing loud and debauched reprises of the omnipresent but so 2002, "Nandedarou" (you guys in Japan know the song I mean) and generally disturbing the peace. Takushiiii!!!

Colours of Shakujii-koen

...and only 15 minutes from our apaato!

Photo Friday

Mmmm, its Photo Friday time again...

Oh! And a big fancy mwa! to Jeroen, Justin, Gavin and Scott who came to my photographic rescue. But guys - damit, you gave me options. I just wanted someone to come along and say, "You need the superdooperXXX3-M007 and nothing else will do!" You can't be giving me options. I've been in Japan far too long to be able to make a decision on my own.

Help!

Don't get me wrong. I love our little Sony Handycam. It takes rockin' footage. Unfortunately, the photos it takes are.... OK. Close-ups are no probs, but funky effects like movement and time lapse trails, etc. it just doesn't do. It also doesn't cope well with very strong sunlight (harsh, overexposed photos) or dim light (just.... you know, dim).

So here's the thing. I need your help. I want to buy in this fine land a digital camera that takes great photos. I know I in turn, have to put out, and become a great photographer, but for now, the camera will do. What camera have you got (or want), do you love it, and can I have a link to your website so I can be impressed to all hell?

So come on. Hit me. I can take it.

The unluck of the Irish

Oh nooooooo! Our super-shipment of smuggled Twinings Irish Breakfast tea (in all, 200 tasty tea bags) purchased in Australia has today run dry!

Did you know you can't get your hands on these little pookas anywhere in Tokyo? I've searched high and low, and whilst you can get just about every other Twinings flavour - English Breakfast, Prince of Wales, Darjeeling et. al you can't get the Irish - the fullest of flavour of them all!

Hmmm...

...and I wondered where our new big screen TV came from.

Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Wallet

I'd never trotted through Ginza before. I mean, I've only been here 2 years, so I can be forgiven, but I always had this image in my head of Ginza being a shoppers paradise, and I ahem, don't really like shopping. It bores me witless.

Ginza is an infinite trench of money and extravagance, but the Pradas and Diors also rub shoulders with a fair chunk of working class seediness (which is much more interesting in my opinion) and, unfortunately, poverty.

Fine day, my arse

Apparently, Japan's Meteorological Agency has a list of days that always seem to feature clear skies. One of these days is November 3. For 32 years between 1965 and 1996, there have been only three rainy days on November 3 in Tokyo. Ooooooh, which must mean.... something spooky is lurking in the heavens...

Well, the shinto gods have definitely not smiled on 2003. Today, the weather is poor. Piss poor. In fact, one could say they have peed all over the nation. Take that you naive meteorologists! Nature is comin' at ya!

I dunno, but...

...I think this news item belongs in a Japanese horror movie.

Bunkasai

I couldn't have lost my voice at a worst time.

Yesterday, at my school's Bunkasai (Culture Festival), the teachers got to sing "Seikai ni hitotsu dake no hana" onstage, like, my favourite ever J-Pop song. Yet again the little singing and dancing princess in me was crying out for attention...

They asked me to sing with them (I'd invited myself along to the festival, I think the teachers were shocked that I even wanted to come... is there no end to a foreigner's madness?) but my voice was so fucked that I would have simply massacred it. Although one could argue that Nakai from SMAP! actually does massacre it. I mean, the man's a born entertainer but he can't sing for shit.

It's a shame, cos I think the kids would have loved it if they saw me singing a Japanese song. See, the whole bonding with the kids thing has been v.e.r.y slow. About the speed of your average vacant J-Girl wandering aimlessly down the street.

I'm only at the school 2 mornings a week, but the truth is, I've never been a "kid person". Objectively, I find children amusing, particularly Japanese kids with all their captivated "cho kakkoiiiiiiiii" and "sugois" and Hello Kitty stickers and puri kra. I'm happy being an observer, but when it actually comes to communicating with the little blighters, I struggle. On top of that, the language problem always seems to raise its ugly head when all I can say to their inquisitions, peppered with Tokyo slang, is;

"Uh... wakaranai. Gomen." ("Sorry, but I can't understand a bloody word you're saying").

So, although my bunkasai was a whole lot more enjoyable than Matt's, I was kinda glad to make my apologies (like, a thousand of them, even though they hadn't expected me to show up in the first place) and get outta there...