Today's thrilling episode is brought to you in part by: Condensed Awesomeness. Why be tall when you can be small.
Hello, I am the narrator, and now we're ready for: Adventures in the Austentatious! When last we read, our hero was standing upon the precarious precipice of that horror of horror, that abomination of Armageddon, that scourge of the soul: a six day work week. To many, such a future would lead to shakes, shivvers, and surprise shimmies, but our hero is not one to be caught dancing by surprise--and he prefers to swing. Rallying through comradery with exception co-workers and exuberant love of teaching, our hero set forth to prove that more than love may conquer all. And all it did conquer, though it was briefly defeated by an Achilles Heel, or in this case toe. A dart of darkness from the past loomed large this week when, in a fit of joy leaving him dancing around his classroom, our hero mis-jumped, landing slightly forward of center. This subtle shift sent sensations scintillating and sacrosanct through sub-digits. The result: a loud snap sang through the classroom. After the briefest of pauses, our hero rallied and recharged, finishing the class and then teaching two more. But damage had been done, for upon examining the toe--or toes, as was later revealed--in question, an old wound had appeared: a divot of devilish proportions right along the knuckles. Remembering mother's wisdom of long past, our hero believed himself and his toe bones broken. However, drawing upon the knowledge of a close companion, our hero discovered that this was not likely the case. Given the description, the more likely ailment was not forced and fantastic fracture, but dull and desolate dislocation. The cure: time. The prognosis: do what you must. And so our hero set off for work, completing the rest of the week with flair, though ever aware of his ped-problem.
So, in Japan, there is no culture of the, "day-to-sleep-it-off." While this may be very common in western countries, it is simply not done over here. In other words: if you don't have to go to the hospital, then you can go to work. So, I taught several days worth of classes on two toes with varying levels of pain. Why? Well, many reasons. For one, it never really hurt that much. I didn't want to step on them, and if they were already hurting then walking on them made them worse, but all in all everything was manageable. Secondly, I'd rather my co-workers not worry too much. If I can get to work, and can work, then obviously it's not too bad to be worried about. Thirdly, I love my job. Love, love, love my job. And I did my best to make sure that my students didn't notice anything wrong. I don't know how well I succeeded in that endeavor, but at least no one asked about it. Also, though I still have a really long way to go--far longer than I'd like to have at this point--I feel as though I have come far enough that my presence to my students is beneficial. Could I be replaced? Yes, easily and probably with someone more skilled...or at least with more experience. However, am I a detriment? Not any more, or at least I really hope so.
Of course, cultural differences are what really have interested me, and perhaps one of the biggest cultural differences can be best illustrated with a story. Before class the other day, a student told me that they [I prefer to use a gender neutral term when discussing students for privacy sake, and ze isn't widely enough used to be viable, and I abhor the phrase, "he or she." English simplifies, and so have I] had a magazine with an article about my home town. Really, I was ecstatic, but I was also rather busy and might have accidentally blown her off--more on that later. Anywho, they open up the magazine to show me pictures of Portland, and I can tell right away that it is Portland, Oregon. Not because of the beautiful green scenery, nor because of any buildings that I recognize, nor indeed because it says Portland on the cover. No, I recognize it because of the cover picture, featuring two people, as the student said, "walking their dogs." Well, I have been to many places on this good, green earth, and while those two critters were definitely pets, I don't know anyone who would call them dogs. They were on a leash, one was definitely sniffing while the other stared off into the distance, and they were obviously well taken care of; but they were a far cry from the genus canine. That's because they were goats. Pygmy goats, unless I am much mistaken. When I pointed this out to the student, they looked confused. When I pointed out that I had no issue with this fact, they became even more confused and put away the magazine.
This story illustrates, perhaps, one of the hardest parts of my living here: I don't know how to assimilate. In Portland, as in everywhere, there is a dominant culture that tends to subvert and draw in weaker cultures. I will also agree that I have been a part of that culture all of my life, and that it's fairly ingrained into me. However, a part of that cultural heritage is the idea that subcultures are OK, enriching, and should be somewhat allowed a life of their own. Live in a tree for ten days to protest it being cut down? Why not. Don't shower for environmental reasons while ranting about the evils of Obama? Your crowd might be small, though your smell might not be, but Portland loves you. A book-burning neo-nazi? I'm sure they're around somewhere and thriving, though I'd rather they stay on the fringe. The point is that, although Portland assimilates sub-cultures into its larger strata, it has a tendency to do so by diversifying itself as much as it unifies and standardizes the subgroup. As such, I am used to the idea of standard deviations from the normal being fine. Which is not quite considered a good point of view in Japan. I am not saying that Japanese people are closed minded--they are quite open to external ideas, as history has shown. Rather, that internally they tend to be very good at homogeneity and assimilating. People follow a certain role and stick with it.
I will say right now that I am very lucky. My manager is a wonderful woman--who I admire quite a bit--who somehow puts up with my oddities better than many in her role probably would. However, there is always this background drive to assimilate, which slides off of me like water on a duck. It's not that I don't recognize that it's there, but more so that it's so anathema to how I was brought up that I cannot conceive of it in any way other than an academical sense; like trying to understand what a cat would experience on Pluto, there are limitations.
But you know what? Neither way is really right, just like neither way is wrong. It simply is. It's like the reason why I worked--gladly, mind you--a six day work week. Next week the building that my school is in will be closed, and so we won't have classes for one day. In America, that would be seen as a free day off, something grand and unexpected. In Japan, however, workers expect and plan that they will have to make up that time somewhere...something which had to be pointed out to me, I might add. But that's the culture, and even if I highly doubt I will ever really fit into it, at the very least I can try to understand it.
Wow, I talked about my job quite a bit today. I know that I said early on that I wouldn't be talking about my job in this blog--and I am still trying to do so in the vaguest terms possible--I am finding that restriction impossible to uphold. Why? Because my job is my life. I spend more time there than anywhere else--awake, at least. It is where I am experiencing life here, and it's where I am finding the most excitement. So, although I will attempt to make things as vague as possible from here on out, work stories might creep into this text. I will never use names, I will use gender neutral pronouns when talking about students--for those who don't know, I'm the only full time male teacher at my school--but even though it's fairly mundane to me, it's also where most other people will be fascinated. I mean, that's the whole point of this blog and its title: that adventure can be found in every day life. I mean, which sounds better: "Today I went to the grocery store and bought eggs," or, "hiding in the shadows created by the noon-time sun, I slunk to the great place where they store food. Name: super market. Creeping carefully through the aisles, I could not help but notice the bored and bar faces around me, as though this tantalizing trip through unbridled plenty was but a momentary monotonous pause in the otherwise excitement of every-day life. Finally, though the mists of mythical scents, I spied with my very eyes something rounded, whited, and soon to be eated! Scions of Hen! Carefully, so as not to disturb the careful balance laid in supplication by a worker of this hive of edibles, I gingerly lifted one glorious carton. Now, taking it to the front, I wooed the guard with shiny pieces of metal while, with my prize I made my escape!" Really, it all depends on how you choose to view things.
Case in point, my most enjoyable day of work was when I was Earnest Hemingway pretending to be Austin Schock. Nobody knew that I was really Earnest Hemingway, so I would call that day a complete success. Now, some might ask why I went to all of the bother, and my answer is simple: I don't know. It sounded fun, unobtrusive, and a good chance to giggle to myself like a crazed loon--and it worked. Either way I was Austin Schock, I just decided that, for one day, that fact should be a little bit more exciting.
One last point (told you I'd get to it, didn't I): body language. It has taken me years and years and years to get to the point that I can read big body language. My issue is not a lack of empathy--at least, I hope not--but more that the way that I tend to connect with most people is not very physical, and so I tend to be not very good at reading those signs. However, in America I have gotten to the point where I can tell that something is wrong, even if I'm not quite sure what it is. However, here in Japan, I am dealing with a case of new culture-new body language. And it's one that I can't read very well. Big signs, yes, I can read...but smaller ones, or really subtle ones...I know that I'm missing a lot, and as a teacher that's not OK. I need to be able to read my students to know if I'm getting through to them. So, once again, I am observing really carefully and trying to understand each and every cue that I see. I still tend to miss a lot and misunderstand most of it, but only through time will I bet better...so long as I don't mess up anything too much along the way. I guess, though, that I should start living by my own words more: I am focused so much on what I might get wrong, that I don't even realize how much I get right.
Well, this has been another adventure in the austentatious. If you liked me, tell your friends; if you hated me, tell your enemies; and if you didn't care either way, tell everybody. And now, good night.
Monday, October 21, 2013
Monday, October 14, 2013
Ep. 11 Termination Temptation
After six weeks of living and working in a beautiful bustling burg of 'burbia, our hero's mind begins to wander. Where will I be in six months? Where will I be in six years. And so, upon these winds of change, our hero set off to wander his abode, so search for answers or swerve for changers when, suddenly and immediately in a matter of time less than a second, what should our hero find but...
And just beyond, beckoning like the sweet sound of the Siren's of old, lay:
Against all odds and all hopes, the infinite expanses of limitless human ingenuity--forms named progress and prestitude--had suddenly given way to the unbound beauties of nature, as though she herself had placed a wall upon the land, stood upon is, and quoted a certain grey wizard in his own call against the fires of war and industry. Thoughts of the future, of a home far away, of small places and small problems, and write and wrong and tragedy all melted away in an instant. And in their place peace and possibility. For nature lies closer to our doorstep than we think, and it take but a moment for it to caper in and catapult us into celestial bliss.
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For those of you who don't know, Tolkein's work can be allegorically read as a treatise against excessive industry at the expense of the natural. The hobbit who made the movies expanded this idea somewhat to make them a little more blatantly obvious.
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So, I've been thinking a lot about the future lately. It's not that I'm unhappy here, or that I don't like my job--quite the opposite for both, actually--but more that Konosu, though green, is still not as green as Portland. Maybe that's an unfair statement, but at the very least it's a very different kind of green. Mostly what I've been missing, though, have been breaks in the city. As I've said before, Tokyo never seems to end, and though I've always taken the same train lines to get where I've wanted to go, it none-the-less was getting to me that, no matter what I did, I would undoubtedly hit city, city, and more city. Having grown up in Portland where we love nature so much that we are home to the smallest national park in the world--Mill Ends Park: at .292 m^2, it's more of a glorified flower pot, although it's completely natural--and where the city itself is interrupted by the glorious Forest Park--over 2,000 hectares, all of which are located inside the city--the lack of green space was really getting to me. It is apparently a rather common issue in Tokyo, where they've installed speakers in the subway system and other underground areas to play bird noises so that people feel that they're close to nature. But when you know people who've been scaled by a squirrel--and have almost been so yourself--canned bird noises just ain't gonna cut it. As such, I was starting to go a little insane...until I found the end of the city. And when I say end, that's what it is. It just stops. I couldn't believe my eyes...I had been living within three miles of this beautiful, open space for six weeks and had no idea! I mean, it had fields...
And a river called the Arakawa:
Oh so very reminiscent of the Deschutes [pronunciation for you non-natives: Deh-Shoots; known for deh white water, where you can have deh time of your life with deh runs] in its calmer, narrower points. And lastly, the attribute well known by all who live within a valley:
Look at those hills! Look at them: that is what a horizon is supposed to look like. And I found wildlife--there, off in the distance, the slow circling of a bird of prey (I think that I can identify it as a Grey-Faced Buzzard, which is a fantastically beautiful bird that we in the New World would call a hawk) signalling the immanent death of something small, cute, and possibly annoying. I even saw a House Crow, standing on top of a telephone pole. I couldn't tell if had a worm in its mouth, or if it had a mustache, but I will let you, dear reader, decide:
If you could not already tell, this discovery made me very happy indeed. I now have a world of nature to explore, and I cannot wait to see what I will find. As one added bonus, when I left the paradise I glanced back one more time to find...
That's right, I saw a parasailer (that is a word, you silly google-thing you) gliding in for a landing. Can anyone else say best sign ever?
Other than this amazing surprise, there are only a couple other things to note about this week. The first is that, on Friday, I was observed at work. This basically means that a trainer from the head office comes in, watches me teach, and then gives me feedback at the end of the day. And let me tell you, getting feedback felt great. I thrive on feedback, I love feedback. Every night after every play with the extraordinary directors in High School (particularly the beautiful Stephanie Mulligan) I would look forward to the feedback time to know what I needed to improve on. As an actor, it's kind of my bread-and-butter-,-better-currency-than-salt-,-I-need-this-now-fix...and I hadn't been getting much of it. Which means that I'm either viewed as a lost cause, or I'm great, neither of which really helps me. However, from my feedback, I now know what I can start focusing on. I also know that I always appeared prepared, confident, and professional. Which means that I now have the element of surprise on my side if I ever decide to show up in a speedo. True, I would need to buy one first, but I'm sure that isn't too hard. Anyway, I was so excited to get feedback, that I imbued my kids lessons the next day with as much energy as I could and, wouldn't you know it, by the end of the day I felt a slightly familiar twinge in my left knee...apparently I had over done it a bit. Good to know. So, I really relaxed this weekend, didn't do much, and aside from the occasional stairs issue, I'm doing fine...I hope...
The other fun aspect of note this week is this fun creation:
Say hello to the world's healthiest doughnut! (soon to be added to my cooking section). Why yes, observant person, that is an avocado, and yes it is filled with yogurt. It also happens to be delicious, nutritious, and compact. In other words the perfect meal for today's on the go adventurer. As a further cooking note, just as, 'tomato bisque + whipped cream + cocoa puffs = slight mint taste," apparently, 'skinned kiwi + chili beans = light-green Listerine taste.' According to Amazing Sciencey Friend #Mind [read Number, not hash tag you internet zealots], this has to do with the fact that the sensors in our mouths that pick up menthol are really good, and some of the easiest to activate. However, that still fails to explain why they both didn't taste more similar... Anyway, this has been another exciting--and photo filled--adventure in the austentaious. If you liked me, tell your friends; if you hated me, tell your enemies; and if you didn't care either way, tell everyone.
And just beyond, beckoning like the sweet sound of the Siren's of old, lay:
Against all odds and all hopes, the infinite expanses of limitless human ingenuity--forms named progress and prestitude--had suddenly given way to the unbound beauties of nature, as though she herself had placed a wall upon the land, stood upon is, and quoted a certain grey wizard in his own call against the fires of war and industry. Thoughts of the future, of a home far away, of small places and small problems, and write and wrong and tragedy all melted away in an instant. And in their place peace and possibility. For nature lies closer to our doorstep than we think, and it take but a moment for it to caper in and catapult us into celestial bliss.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
For those of you who don't know, Tolkein's work can be allegorically read as a treatise against excessive industry at the expense of the natural. The hobbit who made the movies expanded this idea somewhat to make them a little more blatantly obvious.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So, I've been thinking a lot about the future lately. It's not that I'm unhappy here, or that I don't like my job--quite the opposite for both, actually--but more that Konosu, though green, is still not as green as Portland. Maybe that's an unfair statement, but at the very least it's a very different kind of green. Mostly what I've been missing, though, have been breaks in the city. As I've said before, Tokyo never seems to end, and though I've always taken the same train lines to get where I've wanted to go, it none-the-less was getting to me that, no matter what I did, I would undoubtedly hit city, city, and more city. Having grown up in Portland where we love nature so much that we are home to the smallest national park in the world--Mill Ends Park: at .292 m^2, it's more of a glorified flower pot, although it's completely natural--and where the city itself is interrupted by the glorious Forest Park--over 2,000 hectares, all of which are located inside the city--the lack of green space was really getting to me. It is apparently a rather common issue in Tokyo, where they've installed speakers in the subway system and other underground areas to play bird noises so that people feel that they're close to nature. But when you know people who've been scaled by a squirrel--and have almost been so yourself--canned bird noises just ain't gonna cut it. As such, I was starting to go a little insane...until I found the end of the city. And when I say end, that's what it is. It just stops. I couldn't believe my eyes...I had been living within three miles of this beautiful, open space for six weeks and had no idea! I mean, it had fields...
And a river called the Arakawa:
Oh so very reminiscent of the Deschutes [pronunciation for you non-natives: Deh-Shoots; known for deh white water, where you can have deh time of your life with deh runs] in its calmer, narrower points. And lastly, the attribute well known by all who live within a valley:
Look at those hills! Look at them: that is what a horizon is supposed to look like. And I found wildlife--there, off in the distance, the slow circling of a bird of prey (I think that I can identify it as a Grey-Faced Buzzard, which is a fantastically beautiful bird that we in the New World would call a hawk) signalling the immanent death of something small, cute, and possibly annoying. I even saw a House Crow, standing on top of a telephone pole. I couldn't tell if had a worm in its mouth, or if it had a mustache, but I will let you, dear reader, decide:
If you could not already tell, this discovery made me very happy indeed. I now have a world of nature to explore, and I cannot wait to see what I will find. As one added bonus, when I left the paradise I glanced back one more time to find...
That's right, I saw a parasailer (that is a word, you silly google-thing you) gliding in for a landing. Can anyone else say best sign ever?
Other than this amazing surprise, there are only a couple other things to note about this week. The first is that, on Friday, I was observed at work. This basically means that a trainer from the head office comes in, watches me teach, and then gives me feedback at the end of the day. And let me tell you, getting feedback felt great. I thrive on feedback, I love feedback. Every night after every play with the extraordinary directors in High School (particularly the beautiful Stephanie Mulligan) I would look forward to the feedback time to know what I needed to improve on. As an actor, it's kind of my bread-and-butter-,-better-currency-than-salt-,-I-need-this-now-fix...and I hadn't been getting much of it. Which means that I'm either viewed as a lost cause, or I'm great, neither of which really helps me. However, from my feedback, I now know what I can start focusing on. I also know that I always appeared prepared, confident, and professional. Which means that I now have the element of surprise on my side if I ever decide to show up in a speedo. True, I would need to buy one first, but I'm sure that isn't too hard. Anyway, I was so excited to get feedback, that I imbued my kids lessons the next day with as much energy as I could and, wouldn't you know it, by the end of the day I felt a slightly familiar twinge in my left knee...apparently I had over done it a bit. Good to know. So, I really relaxed this weekend, didn't do much, and aside from the occasional stairs issue, I'm doing fine...I hope...
The other fun aspect of note this week is this fun creation:
Say hello to the world's healthiest doughnut! (soon to be added to my cooking section). Why yes, observant person, that is an avocado, and yes it is filled with yogurt. It also happens to be delicious, nutritious, and compact. In other words the perfect meal for today's on the go adventurer. As a further cooking note, just as, 'tomato bisque + whipped cream + cocoa puffs = slight mint taste," apparently, 'skinned kiwi + chili beans = light-green Listerine taste.' According to Amazing Sciencey Friend #Mind [read Number, not hash tag you internet zealots], this has to do with the fact that the sensors in our mouths that pick up menthol are really good, and some of the easiest to activate. However, that still fails to explain why they both didn't taste more similar... Anyway, this has been another exciting--and photo filled--adventure in the austentaious. If you liked me, tell your friends; if you hated me, tell your enemies; and if you didn't care either way, tell everyone.
Monday, October 7, 2013
Ep. 10 A Revealing Retrospective
And so we rejoin the narrative yet in progress with a disabling and disorienting look back at what willful wonders wondrously were. Why? Well, woeful wobbelers, a month has passed since my entrance to the city of Konosu. Four weeks of teaching! Four weeks of drama! Four weeks on my own to trash an apartment beyond human comprehension and sensibility. And what for? Fantabulous and fanatical a-fictitions. So today/ tonight/ tonoon/ tomidnight I reflect upon the month I have led, the month I will lead, and why those two could be spelled and sounded the same way!
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Note for those unfamiliar with common etymologies: many-many-many-many-many English words come from either Greek or Latin origins. If you take one of those words and add an a- or an an- in front of it, it negates the following word. For example, aesthetic (feelings!) becomes anesthetic (nothing not one feeling!). So, with the a- prefix fiction becomes non-fiction. Certainly this is why we tell our children that there is a-santa.
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Let me be blunt: I am homesick. I like Japan, Japan is a very nice place, filled with very nice people, and very nice buildings, and a very nice city that never seems to end--although today I did find the bridge where the city stops which was a really big relief and there will be pictures of it some other time--but all of these things lack one simple thing. They are not quirky-quirky Portland. I miss the feeling of walking down the street and half expecting a unicycle-riding-bagpipe-playing lunatic to come careening around the corner. I miss wandering through Powell's with my third armload of books because the past two were put down and lost in a futile effort to find higher ground to find the exit. I miss looking out the window on one side of my abode to see rain dumping in sheets, while glancing out a window on the other side and seeing a cloudless-blue sky. Oddly enough, I don't miss being able to read and understand everything, because now it's like a strange puzzle; but what I do miss most of all--aside from the anthropomorphic personification of Oregon itself--are the people. I miss my family, I miss my friends, I miss my teachers...I even miss my enemies, whoever they might be. "Live long in Oregon," as the song goes.
And, you know what? It's OK that I miss them. It's OK that I miss all of these things, because they are what I value most. The other stuff I can live without--though the whole literacy thing be mitigated by the fact that so much is in English/ pictures/ I do have a nice collection of English language books--but these facets that I miss are the ones that I depend on. As such, if I am going to make it over here I am going to need to find a way to find them here. Yes, Konosu is not quirky by any stretch of the imagination, but that doesn't mean that I can't be quirky in it. And no, I'm not going to learn how to unicycle down the streets--because I'm an inexperienced enough driver without having to remember to drive on the other side of the road--but I have other skills that I can pull out. Powell's might be a little hard, and I'd rather not mess with the weather if I can help it, but I'm sure that I can make friends. I just have to get out of my apartment a bit more and find a way to get out into the community. It's all on me whether this year is going to be enjoyable or not, and I intend to do my best to make it so.
So, what brought up this sudden bout of, "I want to go home?" Well, several things. First, the realization that it has been a month--and a quick one at that--isn't helping matters. Secondly, I got a care package from my Willamette friends:
Here's the package...plus my yet-to-be-folded laundry...
And here's what was in it. Hiding is the American peanut butter which, now that I can do direct comparisons, is very different from its Japanese counterpart. For one, the latter is a color found in nature, while the former will never be mistaken for frosting. It was incredibly touching, I am so happy with all of the food I now have, but I'm still a bit miffed because it made me miss them all more than I already was. And another one is on its way from my mumsies...this could be a rough few weeks; thank goodness I have work to take my mind off of things.
Speaking of work, I would say that it's going well. Most of my classes follow one of four basic lesson plans, and since I spent so much time memorizing them the first week I can conceivably do a lesson on autopilot right now. This isn't good, because that means I won't be preparing for the harder questions that my students might ask me from left field. These are things that native speakers never conceive to even begin to google, and so we must stall for a moment while our brain goes over every possible permutation of why. The worst, though, is when the explanation is about something incredibly nuanced--such as when a question involving, "you" can be legitimately reported (he/she/ze said) with the subject changing to me, we, he, she, they, or it could stay you. The English language is messed-flipping-up. As such, for the sake of my students I cannot afford to just go on autopilot...at least until I get better at analyzing my mother tongue.
The only other big thing to mention about work--aside from the fact that I not only taped three skeletons to an 11 and a half foot ceiling without a ladder and then managed to get the tape off the ceiling when the skeletons fell off over night--is wardrobe. Dutifully, I iron my clothes every morning, as is proper. I don't mind, I kind of enjoy it, it's not a problem. I do, however, have a few questions about cloth. First, what is the purpose of a tie? The tie, like the high heel, comes from the ancient Roman legions; the former was a special kind of scarf, while the latter was used to strengthen the calf muscles. I lump these two together because they have both, through time, moved away from their original purpose, lost all possible function, and have become an odd and utterly useless remnant. Any trace of function is gone, their only purpose now being fashion. I will wear a tie because it is required of me, though I must say that I vastly prefer bow ties because, while equally useless, they at least fail to get in the way during such mundane activities as eating or relieving oneself. I have never really understood a piece of clothing that serves no actual function--note my love of pants with lots of pockets--and as such am as puzzled by the fact of a tie as I am by my suit jackets where I cannot seem to easily raise my arm above my shoulder. So, will someone please tell me what the purpose of the tie is aside from arbitrary and utterly idiotic notions about what is formal, fancy, and fashionable?
Lastly, we turn to the notion of food and house work. This month has been a transformation month for me. Whereas in America I was hooked upon my easy, simple, ready to micro-wave frozen meals for lunch and, often, dinner, here in Japan I have grown accustomed to cooking all of my own meals. Considering how much I eat, this is a lot of dishes. However, I have continued my goal of never leaving my kitchen a mess before bed...a goal that has been kept with reckless abandon. In fact, I usually clean my dishes before I leave for work as well these days. The other bit of housework to note--aside from the general state of clutter that I kind of like to live in--is the futon.
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One quick rant and then back to the culture stuff: Japanese. Pillows. Are. Tiny. And. Hard. As. Rock! At night, I want to lie my head upon my pillow, not brain it with it.
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This probably goes into the, "so culturally obvious that we never realize that it's culture so we never remember to tell foreigners," category of things that I have discovered. I learned early on that you are supposed to lie out the futon about once a week, which I have mostly been doing. What I did not learn until this past week, however, is that it also needs to be folded up. Every. Single. Day. This prevents the futon from growing damp, and prevents a damp spot forming between the futon and the floor, which tends to be a rather nice breeding ground for mold. So, every day--just like people all over Japan who have been doing so since they were children--I fold up my futon and leave it to air.
One other note on culture: respect. Everyone who comes to Japan, it seems, remarks on the culture of respect and politeness that pervades the Japanese culture. I even know of a few Americans who bemoan the fact that the US has lost its, "respect." I would argue that, a) it depends on where you are, and b) that it's hard to lose something that you relatively never had to begin with (please consult your history books before arguing with me, people. Slaver, Trail of Tears, beating another senator with a cane because you disagree with him...not very respectful). I would also advise to look at the culture surrounding the respect before you pass judgement upon it. Yes, I will admit that I love the respect and politeness that everyone shows each other. However, I do wonder if such a culture could exist in a more egalitarian society. That's not to say that Japan isn't egalitarian in terms of equal rights or distribution of wealth, it rather is, but that Japan is still very much ruled under the idea of the hierarchy (in most cases, read patriarchy, a fact that my own school thankfully modernized on). In other words, people are very polite and respectful to one another because everyone knows exactly where their social place is at any given moment and how they stand with everyone else. It is unbecoming to not be humble, so you are polite to those lower down. Those higher up can screw you over in unspeakable ways, and so you are polite and respectful to those higher up (this is, of course, a gross oversimplification from an American perspective and probably very wrong, even if the general idea is corret). Yes, it is a system that works--and works really well--but the framework that surrounds and supports it is not really one that I'm currently comfortable with. Quite frankly, I am more impressed and intrigued by someone who can lick their elbow than someone who runs a country, but that's just me. What I'm really trying to say is that before you pass judgement upon an aspect of a society, please try to put it in context and understand it as a part of the whole.
I will end tonight's post with this: life can be hard. It's not really here for us to be comfortable in, or really for us at all. It just sort of is...and there's something kind of amazing in that fact. I mean, people can be comfortable, life can be going, "their way," but on the whole, these tend to be unhappy people. They don't necessarily know themselves, or what they want. So, even though life is fairly hard for me right now, I think that it's for the best. I knew going into this that things were going to be difficult--even if I didn't understand quite what it would be like--and I knew that, because of the struggle, I would either grow into more than I could ever have become in Oregon, or burn and die. So, which will happen, the former or the latter? I have no idea; I still have--hopefully--at least eleven more months here until I'm done, and it will take quite some time after that for all the ramifications to play out. I do know, however, that I'm already a different person than the guy who came over here. I also know, and I'm going to say it here: my weight is probably going to be a huge factor in how long I stay here. If I can manage things, I might stay longer. However, if things grow unmanageable--especially during the winter, when I will undoubtedly need to eat more to generate heat--then I will have to put my health above all other concerns. But I knew this going in, and I have adjusted accordingly. One last thing before I go: I'm not all that fond of being called, "Mr. Austin," by my students. For one, I feel as though it makes a separation between the student and the teacher that I'm not comfortable with, and for another--as I have said since I was little--I am Austin, just Austin. And, so, this has been another exciting Adventure of the Austentatious. If you liked me, tell your friends; if you hate me, tell your enemies; and if you don't care either way, then tell everyone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Note for those unfamiliar with common etymologies: many-many-many-many-many English words come from either Greek or Latin origins. If you take one of those words and add an a- or an an- in front of it, it negates the following word. For example, aesthetic (feelings!) becomes anesthetic (nothing not one feeling!). So, with the a- prefix fiction becomes non-fiction. Certainly this is why we tell our children that there is a-santa.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Let me be blunt: I am homesick. I like Japan, Japan is a very nice place, filled with very nice people, and very nice buildings, and a very nice city that never seems to end--although today I did find the bridge where the city stops which was a really big relief and there will be pictures of it some other time--but all of these things lack one simple thing. They are not quirky-quirky Portland. I miss the feeling of walking down the street and half expecting a unicycle-riding-bagpipe-playing lunatic to come careening around the corner. I miss wandering through Powell's with my third armload of books because the past two were put down and lost in a futile effort to find higher ground to find the exit. I miss looking out the window on one side of my abode to see rain dumping in sheets, while glancing out a window on the other side and seeing a cloudless-blue sky. Oddly enough, I don't miss being able to read and understand everything, because now it's like a strange puzzle; but what I do miss most of all--aside from the anthropomorphic personification of Oregon itself--are the people. I miss my family, I miss my friends, I miss my teachers...I even miss my enemies, whoever they might be. "Live long in Oregon," as the song goes.
And, you know what? It's OK that I miss them. It's OK that I miss all of these things, because they are what I value most. The other stuff I can live without--though the whole literacy thing be mitigated by the fact that so much is in English/ pictures/ I do have a nice collection of English language books--but these facets that I miss are the ones that I depend on. As such, if I am going to make it over here I am going to need to find a way to find them here. Yes, Konosu is not quirky by any stretch of the imagination, but that doesn't mean that I can't be quirky in it. And no, I'm not going to learn how to unicycle down the streets--because I'm an inexperienced enough driver without having to remember to drive on the other side of the road--but I have other skills that I can pull out. Powell's might be a little hard, and I'd rather not mess with the weather if I can help it, but I'm sure that I can make friends. I just have to get out of my apartment a bit more and find a way to get out into the community. It's all on me whether this year is going to be enjoyable or not, and I intend to do my best to make it so.
So, what brought up this sudden bout of, "I want to go home?" Well, several things. First, the realization that it has been a month--and a quick one at that--isn't helping matters. Secondly, I got a care package from my Willamette friends:
Speaking of work, I would say that it's going well. Most of my classes follow one of four basic lesson plans, and since I spent so much time memorizing them the first week I can conceivably do a lesson on autopilot right now. This isn't good, because that means I won't be preparing for the harder questions that my students might ask me from left field. These are things that native speakers never conceive to even begin to google, and so we must stall for a moment while our brain goes over every possible permutation of why. The worst, though, is when the explanation is about something incredibly nuanced--such as when a question involving, "you" can be legitimately reported (he/she/ze said) with the subject changing to me, we, he, she, they, or it could stay you. The English language is messed-flipping-up. As such, for the sake of my students I cannot afford to just go on autopilot...at least until I get better at analyzing my mother tongue.
The only other big thing to mention about work--aside from the fact that I not only taped three skeletons to an 11 and a half foot ceiling without a ladder and then managed to get the tape off the ceiling when the skeletons fell off over night--is wardrobe. Dutifully, I iron my clothes every morning, as is proper. I don't mind, I kind of enjoy it, it's not a problem. I do, however, have a few questions about cloth. First, what is the purpose of a tie? The tie, like the high heel, comes from the ancient Roman legions; the former was a special kind of scarf, while the latter was used to strengthen the calf muscles. I lump these two together because they have both, through time, moved away from their original purpose, lost all possible function, and have become an odd and utterly useless remnant. Any trace of function is gone, their only purpose now being fashion. I will wear a tie because it is required of me, though I must say that I vastly prefer bow ties because, while equally useless, they at least fail to get in the way during such mundane activities as eating or relieving oneself. I have never really understood a piece of clothing that serves no actual function--note my love of pants with lots of pockets--and as such am as puzzled by the fact of a tie as I am by my suit jackets where I cannot seem to easily raise my arm above my shoulder. So, will someone please tell me what the purpose of the tie is aside from arbitrary and utterly idiotic notions about what is formal, fancy, and fashionable?
Lastly, we turn to the notion of food and house work. This month has been a transformation month for me. Whereas in America I was hooked upon my easy, simple, ready to micro-wave frozen meals for lunch and, often, dinner, here in Japan I have grown accustomed to cooking all of my own meals. Considering how much I eat, this is a lot of dishes. However, I have continued my goal of never leaving my kitchen a mess before bed...a goal that has been kept with reckless abandon. In fact, I usually clean my dishes before I leave for work as well these days. The other bit of housework to note--aside from the general state of clutter that I kind of like to live in--is the futon.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
One quick rant and then back to the culture stuff: Japanese. Pillows. Are. Tiny. And. Hard. As. Rock! At night, I want to lie my head upon my pillow, not brain it with it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This probably goes into the, "so culturally obvious that we never realize that it's culture so we never remember to tell foreigners," category of things that I have discovered. I learned early on that you are supposed to lie out the futon about once a week, which I have mostly been doing. What I did not learn until this past week, however, is that it also needs to be folded up. Every. Single. Day. This prevents the futon from growing damp, and prevents a damp spot forming between the futon and the floor, which tends to be a rather nice breeding ground for mold. So, every day--just like people all over Japan who have been doing so since they were children--I fold up my futon and leave it to air.
One other note on culture: respect. Everyone who comes to Japan, it seems, remarks on the culture of respect and politeness that pervades the Japanese culture. I even know of a few Americans who bemoan the fact that the US has lost its, "respect." I would argue that, a) it depends on where you are, and b) that it's hard to lose something that you relatively never had to begin with (please consult your history books before arguing with me, people. Slaver, Trail of Tears, beating another senator with a cane because you disagree with him...not very respectful). I would also advise to look at the culture surrounding the respect before you pass judgement upon it. Yes, I will admit that I love the respect and politeness that everyone shows each other. However, I do wonder if such a culture could exist in a more egalitarian society. That's not to say that Japan isn't egalitarian in terms of equal rights or distribution of wealth, it rather is, but that Japan is still very much ruled under the idea of the hierarchy (in most cases, read patriarchy, a fact that my own school thankfully modernized on). In other words, people are very polite and respectful to one another because everyone knows exactly where their social place is at any given moment and how they stand with everyone else. It is unbecoming to not be humble, so you are polite to those lower down. Those higher up can screw you over in unspeakable ways, and so you are polite and respectful to those higher up (this is, of course, a gross oversimplification from an American perspective and probably very wrong, even if the general idea is corret). Yes, it is a system that works--and works really well--but the framework that surrounds and supports it is not really one that I'm currently comfortable with. Quite frankly, I am more impressed and intrigued by someone who can lick their elbow than someone who runs a country, but that's just me. What I'm really trying to say is that before you pass judgement upon an aspect of a society, please try to put it in context and understand it as a part of the whole.
I will end tonight's post with this: life can be hard. It's not really here for us to be comfortable in, or really for us at all. It just sort of is...and there's something kind of amazing in that fact. I mean, people can be comfortable, life can be going, "their way," but on the whole, these tend to be unhappy people. They don't necessarily know themselves, or what they want. So, even though life is fairly hard for me right now, I think that it's for the best. I knew going into this that things were going to be difficult--even if I didn't understand quite what it would be like--and I knew that, because of the struggle, I would either grow into more than I could ever have become in Oregon, or burn and die. So, which will happen, the former or the latter? I have no idea; I still have--hopefully--at least eleven more months here until I'm done, and it will take quite some time after that for all the ramifications to play out. I do know, however, that I'm already a different person than the guy who came over here. I also know, and I'm going to say it here: my weight is probably going to be a huge factor in how long I stay here. If I can manage things, I might stay longer. However, if things grow unmanageable--especially during the winter, when I will undoubtedly need to eat more to generate heat--then I will have to put my health above all other concerns. But I knew this going in, and I have adjusted accordingly. One last thing before I go: I'm not all that fond of being called, "Mr. Austin," by my students. For one, I feel as though it makes a separation between the student and the teacher that I'm not comfortable with, and for another--as I have said since I was little--I am Austin, just Austin. And, so, this has been another exciting Adventure of the Austentatious. If you liked me, tell your friends; if you hate me, tell your enemies; and if you don't care either way, then tell everyone.
Monday, September 30, 2013
Ep. 9 Revenge of the Cantankerous Curry
This is the story: When last we left our hero, he was sitting proud in the knowledge that he had conquered the connoisseurial cooking of his host nation. Believing himself invincible, he thereby fell into one of the most devious traps laid out by his now arch enemy: Cantankerous Curry. Imagine, if you will, a room filled with the delicious aroma of admirable attainments: the rice cooker silently steaming in the corner; the pot on the stove boiling boisterously, filled with delicious carrots and delightful green onions. Then, to the water is added the curry, and the trap is set, for within this brown lump of pre-conglomerated powdery goodness lies a mind with psychic abilities beyond the abilities of mortal man! This fiend frolics in a space between AM, PM, and FM, a telepathic wave merely known as M. Dispersing itself among the now native boiled produce, Cantankerous Curry implanted within the aroma a thought: this dish needs tofu. Ah, tofu, the savior of the vegetarian in a land of flesh-filled meats. Away our hero flew to the fridge to divide up the last of the tofu, only to find a study in orange. Yes, for sadly lacking the fortitude and forthrightness of its less curdled brethren, the tofu had turned a sickly and soured hue. "Ah well," thought our hero, "better luck next time. No tofu tonight." But Cantankerous Curry had other ideas, and insured that our hero had them as well. For, he then reasoned, food = money, money = work, therefore this tofu represented a small fraction of the total time tuteling tots, teens, and tinkers. Ergo, countered fair Reason, we can always get more. But, never the one to be persuaded and drunk upon the power of M, Cantankerous Curry played the trump: yes, money may be used to purchase more, but in order to save money my grandparents must have eaten worse in the Great Depression, and they survived! Have I not feasted upon their food? Is my stomach so weak that it cannot handle slightly aged tofu. So into the pot it went, only to be fished out thirty seconds later when the curry turned a corpulent color and a strange smell began to emanate. But the damage was done, no sooner was the curry devoured, then the trap itself was sprung; our hero learned well that night why the entirety of history since WWII has been in a constant direction away from the Great Depression. But never fear, for though he was brought low, our hero's stomach had still been trained since infancy to fight against expired edibles by said aforementioned and truly loving grandparents! For, despite the best efforts of Cantankerous, the curry did not make a reappearance and, after a cool bath and a good night's sleep, our hero rose rested and better for the adventure.
And the moral of the story is: If food is fuzzy, or has changed hue, use your mind, and take a clue.
~~~~~
The following is best viewed as a bunch of vignettes, because it is getting late, I am tired, and I cannot think of a better way to express these stories. So, without further ado: life in Japan.
~~~~~
In Upper School, we whose brains had yet to develop a funny little thing called reason and caution played a game that we called, "Fugitive." The object is simple: make your way from one end of the street/ neighborhood to the other without getting caught by the cops, who happened to be driving cars at the time. I never played, but some part of me really wanted to. We were young, it was silly, nothing painful happened, and I thought it a relic of my not-so-long-ago past. Boy was I surprised yesterday when I turned on my TV to find a show with a familiar set of rules. They call it, "Run for Money," and, with a ludicrously high production budget and hundreds of able and active actors, they have added a strange subplot about a samurai. That's right, there was a samurai subplot...in a town full of actors who looked like they better belonged in Victorian England...while, "normal" people ran around in really bright clothing helping those in need while simultaneously avoiding serious men in black suits, black ties, and sunglasses with a camera attachment. And every second 200 yen was added to the winner's total. Imagine my surprise indeed to turn on my television to find this, especially considering that my introduction was to see a women in bright colored clothing streaking--as in running fast you pervs--down the street, pursued by a very well dressed man. Imagine my further surprise when, instead of tackling her as I assumed he would, he very gently tapped her on the shoulders, which resulted in her stopping, then falling down and crying. Welcome to Japan, where even game shows that make sense still make no sense.
~~~~~
After work on Saturday night, I had the unmitigated joy of visiting the house of my predecessor with the other American teacher at my school. My predecessor is married to a rather nice Japanese man, so this was an opportunity to visit a somewhat Japanese home--for those of you who don't know, this is really rare. Most Japanese rarely, if ever, use their house as a venue to entertain, in sharp contrast to Americans. And I must say, compared to where I have been living the house was quite spacious. Quite frankly, I would call it a Japanese version of a townhouse. Like my apartment, it consists of a single floor--though hers has an incredible staircase inside the house to get there--but unlike my apartment her house is divided into many rooms. These include a bathroom and a toilet-room, a bedroom, and a large kitchen/ family room. I am so jealous of that last one. I would say that I had an absolutely lovely time, I adore my predecessor even more to pieces, and I hope that we become even better friends. However, the story does not stop there. She lives in the next town over, so afterwards my co-worker and I hopped on the train back--had we stayed another half hour, we would have missed the last one--and off to Konosu we went! Upon arriving back at the station, we made our way toward our respective apartments. Picture us standing there, in the middle of the night, talking, when all of the sudden we hear a splat from across the street. We both look over...and then we look up. There, sitting on the wires, are pigeons...the same ones just outside of my bedroom window. And as we are watching, we see a glob fall from on high to go splat on the pavement across the street from us...which we then notice is absolutely covered in bird poo. This was the wall of terror that my co-worker had to walk under to get to her apartment. She succeeded, I believe--once the light turned, I was off to my own abode. I will say this, though: sitting outside for ~ten minutes to count how many times bird poop hits a piece of paper so that you can calculate the average possibility of getting hit coming back from work can get you some really weird looks...as such, I cannot imagine the looks a person would get for sitting out there for an hour to try to make more accurate measurements, nor the even stranger looks of doing so at multiple times of night to try and gauge if time is a factor.
~~~~~
Either American machines are smarter or dumber than their Japanese counter parts, because withdrawing money was one of the most frustrating activities in my time here. So, because I don't have a bank card yet, I had to go through a person (ugh...people...want...atm...) which means that I had to fill out a form I barely understood. I did it, though, handed it over, got all set to get my money and...the computer didn't like the form. I had written a letter once, and had not liked it. So, naturally, I had written over it to make a better shape. In America, this is fine; in Japan, this is not. So, I had to rewrite the form and, wouldn't you know it, habit took over again. And again. And again. Six forms later, I finally wrote it without correcting. Thank goodness that it worked, or I might yet be sitting there, trying desperately to overcome 22 years of habit.
~~~~~
I have a really fast metabolism. Like, fast enough that I have to eat a ton just to keep up my weight. Add in the additional exercise from a full day of teaching, plus the fact that my stomach is better suited to smaller meals rather than larger ones, and I have not been eating enough since I arrived in Japan. However, after careful observation of my habits, I have finally decided on a daily eating schedule that not only gives me enough energy to get through the day, but to hopefully gain weight as well--preferably muscle weight which, given my teaching style, shouldn't be too hard. How do I know that this is enough food? Because the day that I started doing it I spent a full half hour of one of my prep-periods--on one of my slower days, mind you--saying, "yummy, delicious, delectable lunch" over and over and over again. Because a) I liked the way that it sounded and flowed and, b) if I said it really, really, really fast I would sometimes say, "lummy" instead of, "yummy" so it became a competition to see how many times I could say it until I messed up. Also, it kept my body occupied while my brain thought about what it needed to do as I was reading lesson plans, so it all worked out for the best. And now, without further ado, my daily eating schedule.
7:00 First breakfast (2 eggs, one piece of bread covered in peanut spread, yogurt, fruit [generally grapefruit])
9:00-9:30 Second breakfast (bowl of cereal, after today the milk will contain protein powder)
11:00-11:30 First lunch or Elevensies. This is usually when I have my peanut butter, jelly, and banana sandwich. Thinking about sometimes adding avocado before my busier days.
2:00-4:00 Second lunch, usually being last night's leftovers.
2:45-6:45 Third lunch or Afternoon Tea, usually a bento that I buy after eating second lunch, and eaten depending on if I have time. Can be easily replaced with my numerous snacking bouts.
9:30 Dinner, being any number of things that I want to cook.
Add into one of these meals half of an avacado a few times a week and we're good to go.
That makes six meals, not including snacks. I think that, being roughly sized similarly with those who would normally be the big folk around me, my body has compensated by making me eat like a hobbit in order to survive. Hopefully now I'll gain some weight.
~~~~~
I have set up many routers in my short life time. Never my own. Always for a relative. And always an utter headache. As such, I prepared myself for the arduous task ahead of me. Not only was I going to buy a router, probably a good deal spendier than I would like, but I would have to set it up, too. All in Japanese. This was not going to be easy, I told myself, but it would be fun. A half hour train ride later, there I stood in Omiya, the nearest big city and the nearest electronic store, ready to do battle with the commissioned salesman. I knew my adversary would be witty, but I had utter linguistical ignorance on my side. Long story short, all of my preparation was for not; I was avoided like a plague infested zombie, shuffling through the aisles looking for a clue as to where the routers were. When I found them, I was disappointed, they were even more expensive than I had thought. As I turned to go, however, something pulled me back. I turned around, and there at the end were a set of routers that were on sale for about $50. They were apparently being advertised in some magazine, but I didn't care. Here was a router that I was willing to afford, the kind that still left me money left over, no less. So I grabbed the last one, purchased it, and half an hour later was standing in my apartment, preparing myself for the horrors ahead. What trickery would it endeavor to pursue? What malice would it unleash to disturb my afternoon? The only way to find out was to set it up...which I did. And guess what? It worked. First try. No problems then, and no problems since. I was utterly baffled, and still am, but pleased (knock on wood) with the most amazing router ever.
~~~~~
Imagine my surprise last weekend, when I opened up my load of whites to find, lying peacefully on top, a single, now very clean, black pen. My first thought was that I really should start checking my pockets better, while my second thought was that I had just irreparably damaged each and every single white shirt that I own. These are the same white shirts, mind you, that I wear under my dress shirts each and every single working day. These are the same white shirts that must be kept cleaner and in a better state of care than my usual attire. These are the same shirts that were dirt cheap and on sale back home, but probably a bit on the spendier side here. In other words: I feared that I had just cost myself a good deal of money through sheer stupidity. And so I began to sort the shirts and handkerchiefs and, lo, a miracle had happened. For as the pile of useable shirts began to grow, I started to realize that, despite the show, the unusable pile had an occupant of one, so maybe my finances weren't completely done. That lone shirt, I realized upon closer inspection, had valiantly wrapped itself around around the pen, shielding its contemporaries from the harmful escaping ink and sacrificing itself in the process. Behold (picture coming soon), good peoples, Whitey, the Valiant T-Shirt. May he forever more be a relic of how folly can serendipitously become humility.
~~~~~
This is a simple story, with an even more simple beginning: allergies. Namely, I have them, and when they go off, my nose becomes Niagara Falls--spell check's first option for that one was Viagra, though with the surprising further of the drip that might not be far from the truth--with a constant, if manageable, drip. Yet sometimes, things go horribly wrong, particularly in humidity where things get rubbery. So, there I was teaching a class sans shoes--because that's how kids classes are taught in Japan--when I feel a massive sneeze coming on. Quickly, I pull out my handkerchief, raise it to my nose, and just in time cover the sneeze...at least that's what I thought, before I felt the blob bounce off of the handkerchief towards the right, where it then bounced off again mostly into my hand, for which I am thankful. Now, I am sure that many people are squirming at this thought and wondering what madness possesses me to believe that snot in my hand is the preferable option. I will agree that it is gross--not to mention embarrassing as all get out to happen in front of students--but the worst was that not all of it went into my hand. No, a part of the blob missed and kept going down...down...down...until *plop*. Onto my sock. In front of my students. I was so embarrassed that I may never love again...not really, but it certainly sounds better than any other hyperbolic metaphor that I can think of at the moment.
~~~~~
I'm going to end today as I began it: with curry. Monday nights, I have decided, are curry nights, because I have an inordinate amount of stubbornness on both sides of my family and gosh darn it I will get it right. Cantankerous Curry had one more trick up its sleeves: yesterday I opened my fridge to find that it was emanating a cantankerous smell. Thankfully, my burnable garbage was almost full, so out it went, and my apartment spent the next few hours being aired out. However, now sans curry, I decided to rectify that fact by making more tonight...with similar results, though sans the tofu. I am beginning to wonder if I am either cursed against curry, or if perhaps either the curry itself has gone bad--not likely, according to the interwebs--or if perhaps the rice has gone bad. I am sure some normal person out there is going, "don't eat the curry man, it's just not worth it," but my sense of discovery and adventure will not allow such a path. After all, how can I finally make my darn curry right if I don't know why it disagrees with me in the first place. Ergo, tomorrow I will try some rice with my lunch. If I spend the rest of the day feeling like I'm going to puke, then we'll know it's the rice. If I don't then the question arises of whether or not it's the curry, or something in the curry. The science is waiting! Only the adventurous will find the truth! *update: it wasn't the curry...at least, not completely. It was the rice, part of which had turned a decided shade of fuzzy-wuzzy-beary-green--he really should have bathed more--and as such the curry should be fine...which we'll know when I make more rice.* Anywho, this has been another Adventure of the Austentatious; if you liked me, tell your friends; if you hated me, tell your enemies; and if you don't care either way, tell everyone.
And the moral of the story is: If food is fuzzy, or has changed hue, use your mind, and take a clue.
~~~~~
The following is best viewed as a bunch of vignettes, because it is getting late, I am tired, and I cannot think of a better way to express these stories. So, without further ado: life in Japan.
~~~~~
In Upper School, we whose brains had yet to develop a funny little thing called reason and caution played a game that we called, "Fugitive." The object is simple: make your way from one end of the street/ neighborhood to the other without getting caught by the cops, who happened to be driving cars at the time. I never played, but some part of me really wanted to. We were young, it was silly, nothing painful happened, and I thought it a relic of my not-so-long-ago past. Boy was I surprised yesterday when I turned on my TV to find a show with a familiar set of rules. They call it, "Run for Money," and, with a ludicrously high production budget and hundreds of able and active actors, they have added a strange subplot about a samurai. That's right, there was a samurai subplot...in a town full of actors who looked like they better belonged in Victorian England...while, "normal" people ran around in really bright clothing helping those in need while simultaneously avoiding serious men in black suits, black ties, and sunglasses with a camera attachment. And every second 200 yen was added to the winner's total. Imagine my surprise indeed to turn on my television to find this, especially considering that my introduction was to see a women in bright colored clothing streaking--as in running fast you pervs--down the street, pursued by a very well dressed man. Imagine my further surprise when, instead of tackling her as I assumed he would, he very gently tapped her on the shoulders, which resulted in her stopping, then falling down and crying. Welcome to Japan, where even game shows that make sense still make no sense.
~~~~~
After work on Saturday night, I had the unmitigated joy of visiting the house of my predecessor with the other American teacher at my school. My predecessor is married to a rather nice Japanese man, so this was an opportunity to visit a somewhat Japanese home--for those of you who don't know, this is really rare. Most Japanese rarely, if ever, use their house as a venue to entertain, in sharp contrast to Americans. And I must say, compared to where I have been living the house was quite spacious. Quite frankly, I would call it a Japanese version of a townhouse. Like my apartment, it consists of a single floor--though hers has an incredible staircase inside the house to get there--but unlike my apartment her house is divided into many rooms. These include a bathroom and a toilet-room, a bedroom, and a large kitchen/ family room. I am so jealous of that last one. I would say that I had an absolutely lovely time, I adore my predecessor even more to pieces, and I hope that we become even better friends. However, the story does not stop there. She lives in the next town over, so afterwards my co-worker and I hopped on the train back--had we stayed another half hour, we would have missed the last one--and off to Konosu we went! Upon arriving back at the station, we made our way toward our respective apartments. Picture us standing there, in the middle of the night, talking, when all of the sudden we hear a splat from across the street. We both look over...and then we look up. There, sitting on the wires, are pigeons...the same ones just outside of my bedroom window. And as we are watching, we see a glob fall from on high to go splat on the pavement across the street from us...which we then notice is absolutely covered in bird poo. This was the wall of terror that my co-worker had to walk under to get to her apartment. She succeeded, I believe--once the light turned, I was off to my own abode. I will say this, though: sitting outside for ~ten minutes to count how many times bird poop hits a piece of paper so that you can calculate the average possibility of getting hit coming back from work can get you some really weird looks...as such, I cannot imagine the looks a person would get for sitting out there for an hour to try to make more accurate measurements, nor the even stranger looks of doing so at multiple times of night to try and gauge if time is a factor.
~~~~~
Either American machines are smarter or dumber than their Japanese counter parts, because withdrawing money was one of the most frustrating activities in my time here. So, because I don't have a bank card yet, I had to go through a person (ugh...people...want...atm...) which means that I had to fill out a form I barely understood. I did it, though, handed it over, got all set to get my money and...the computer didn't like the form. I had written a letter once, and had not liked it. So, naturally, I had written over it to make a better shape. In America, this is fine; in Japan, this is not. So, I had to rewrite the form and, wouldn't you know it, habit took over again. And again. And again. Six forms later, I finally wrote it without correcting. Thank goodness that it worked, or I might yet be sitting there, trying desperately to overcome 22 years of habit.
~~~~~
I have a really fast metabolism. Like, fast enough that I have to eat a ton just to keep up my weight. Add in the additional exercise from a full day of teaching, plus the fact that my stomach is better suited to smaller meals rather than larger ones, and I have not been eating enough since I arrived in Japan. However, after careful observation of my habits, I have finally decided on a daily eating schedule that not only gives me enough energy to get through the day, but to hopefully gain weight as well--preferably muscle weight which, given my teaching style, shouldn't be too hard. How do I know that this is enough food? Because the day that I started doing it I spent a full half hour of one of my prep-periods--on one of my slower days, mind you--saying, "yummy, delicious, delectable lunch" over and over and over again. Because a) I liked the way that it sounded and flowed and, b) if I said it really, really, really fast I would sometimes say, "lummy" instead of, "yummy" so it became a competition to see how many times I could say it until I messed up. Also, it kept my body occupied while my brain thought about what it needed to do as I was reading lesson plans, so it all worked out for the best. And now, without further ado, my daily eating schedule.
7:00 First breakfast (2 eggs, one piece of bread covered in peanut spread, yogurt, fruit [generally grapefruit])
9:00-9:30 Second breakfast (bowl of cereal, after today the milk will contain protein powder)
11:00-11:30 First lunch or Elevensies. This is usually when I have my peanut butter, jelly, and banana sandwich. Thinking about sometimes adding avocado before my busier days.
2:00-4:00 Second lunch, usually being last night's leftovers.
2:45-6:45 Third lunch or Afternoon Tea, usually a bento that I buy after eating second lunch, and eaten depending on if I have time. Can be easily replaced with my numerous snacking bouts.
9:30 Dinner, being any number of things that I want to cook.
Add into one of these meals half of an avacado a few times a week and we're good to go.
That makes six meals, not including snacks. I think that, being roughly sized similarly with those who would normally be the big folk around me, my body has compensated by making me eat like a hobbit in order to survive. Hopefully now I'll gain some weight.
~~~~~
I have set up many routers in my short life time. Never my own. Always for a relative. And always an utter headache. As such, I prepared myself for the arduous task ahead of me. Not only was I going to buy a router, probably a good deal spendier than I would like, but I would have to set it up, too. All in Japanese. This was not going to be easy, I told myself, but it would be fun. A half hour train ride later, there I stood in Omiya, the nearest big city and the nearest electronic store, ready to do battle with the commissioned salesman. I knew my adversary would be witty, but I had utter linguistical ignorance on my side. Long story short, all of my preparation was for not; I was avoided like a plague infested zombie, shuffling through the aisles looking for a clue as to where the routers were. When I found them, I was disappointed, they were even more expensive than I had thought. As I turned to go, however, something pulled me back. I turned around, and there at the end were a set of routers that were on sale for about $50. They were apparently being advertised in some magazine, but I didn't care. Here was a router that I was willing to afford, the kind that still left me money left over, no less. So I grabbed the last one, purchased it, and half an hour later was standing in my apartment, preparing myself for the horrors ahead. What trickery would it endeavor to pursue? What malice would it unleash to disturb my afternoon? The only way to find out was to set it up...which I did. And guess what? It worked. First try. No problems then, and no problems since. I was utterly baffled, and still am, but pleased (knock on wood) with the most amazing router ever.
~~~~~
Imagine my surprise last weekend, when I opened up my load of whites to find, lying peacefully on top, a single, now very clean, black pen. My first thought was that I really should start checking my pockets better, while my second thought was that I had just irreparably damaged each and every single white shirt that I own. These are the same white shirts, mind you, that I wear under my dress shirts each and every single working day. These are the same white shirts that must be kept cleaner and in a better state of care than my usual attire. These are the same shirts that were dirt cheap and on sale back home, but probably a bit on the spendier side here. In other words: I feared that I had just cost myself a good deal of money through sheer stupidity. And so I began to sort the shirts and handkerchiefs and, lo, a miracle had happened. For as the pile of useable shirts began to grow, I started to realize that, despite the show, the unusable pile had an occupant of one, so maybe my finances weren't completely done. That lone shirt, I realized upon closer inspection, had valiantly wrapped itself around around the pen, shielding its contemporaries from the harmful escaping ink and sacrificing itself in the process. Behold (picture coming soon), good peoples, Whitey, the Valiant T-Shirt. May he forever more be a relic of how folly can serendipitously become humility.
~~~~~
This is a simple story, with an even more simple beginning: allergies. Namely, I have them, and when they go off, my nose becomes Niagara Falls--spell check's first option for that one was Viagra, though with the surprising further of the drip that might not be far from the truth--with a constant, if manageable, drip. Yet sometimes, things go horribly wrong, particularly in humidity where things get rubbery. So, there I was teaching a class sans shoes--because that's how kids classes are taught in Japan--when I feel a massive sneeze coming on. Quickly, I pull out my handkerchief, raise it to my nose, and just in time cover the sneeze...at least that's what I thought, before I felt the blob bounce off of the handkerchief towards the right, where it then bounced off again mostly into my hand, for which I am thankful. Now, I am sure that many people are squirming at this thought and wondering what madness possesses me to believe that snot in my hand is the preferable option. I will agree that it is gross--not to mention embarrassing as all get out to happen in front of students--but the worst was that not all of it went into my hand. No, a part of the blob missed and kept going down...down...down...until *plop*. Onto my sock. In front of my students. I was so embarrassed that I may never love again...not really, but it certainly sounds better than any other hyperbolic metaphor that I can think of at the moment.
~~~~~
I'm going to end today as I began it: with curry. Monday nights, I have decided, are curry nights, because I have an inordinate amount of stubbornness on both sides of my family and gosh darn it I will get it right. Cantankerous Curry had one more trick up its sleeves: yesterday I opened my fridge to find that it was emanating a cantankerous smell. Thankfully, my burnable garbage was almost full, so out it went, and my apartment spent the next few hours being aired out. However, now sans curry, I decided to rectify that fact by making more tonight...with similar results, though sans the tofu. I am beginning to wonder if I am either cursed against curry, or if perhaps either the curry itself has gone bad--not likely, according to the interwebs--or if perhaps the rice has gone bad. I am sure some normal person out there is going, "don't eat the curry man, it's just not worth it," but my sense of discovery and adventure will not allow such a path. After all, how can I finally make my darn curry right if I don't know why it disagrees with me in the first place. Ergo, tomorrow I will try some rice with my lunch. If I spend the rest of the day feeling like I'm going to puke, then we'll know it's the rice. If I don't then the question arises of whether or not it's the curry, or something in the curry. The science is waiting! Only the adventurous will find the truth! *update: it wasn't the curry...at least, not completely. It was the rice, part of which had turned a decided shade of fuzzy-wuzzy-beary-green--he really should have bathed more--and as such the curry should be fine...which we'll know when I make more rice.* Anywho, this has been another Adventure of the Austentatious; if you liked me, tell your friends; if you hated me, tell your enemies; and if you don't care either way, tell everyone.
Sunday, September 22, 2013
Ep. 8 A Story of Solitude
One of the greatest struggles facing me upon my arrival was the great task of living alone for the first time. Never before have I lived a true solitary existence, as roughly eighteen full years of parentage and three successive--and on the whole grand--college room mates have been gratifying obstacles. How in this eccentric earth of everything ever will I survive? Will the copious challenges and challenging contendings defeat my each and every attempt at survival? Or will I find the will and way to stand firm and find my footing in this large and laborious world? Only time will tell, but one thing is sure: when in need, I have friends indeed.
So, I am currently writing this in my first apartment. Ever. It's fantabulous (a portmanteau of, "fantastic" and, "fabulous" that I've been using for years. Let it be known here and now, oh future linguistic peoples, that I made it up! Or, at the very least, that I came up with it on my own, independent of any other source) and tiny, and I absolutely love it. I love my loft, and the death-defying climb up and down the ladder of death whenever I want to sleep. I love my tiny kitchen, and how I've finally rearranged things so that I can use both burners. I love my living area, and how my desk looked so useable this morning, but now looks like a disaster zone--complete with crying refugees (order now for one low price of 9.95). And above all, I love knowing that, no matter what, it's a place where I can really be alone.
That's not to say that there aren't problems; far from it. But most of these are familiar problems, such as bills and groceries, that I expected and knew full well how to deal with. In America. But this is Japan, where everything is different. As such, there have been some, shall we say, unexpected hiccups on the road to independence, mostly due to my cultural ignorance.
Bills
Bills, bills, bills; everyone has bills. I have bills. I've had bills. Bills are simple so long as you're smart. You just check a box, input some numbers, and then, suddenly, money magically flies away from your account every month to go where it's supposed to. It's simple, it's easy, and you only need to really worry once. In America. Here in Japan, there are two ways to pay bills: the way that I researched, and the way that it has turned out. From my research, it sounded simple: you take your bill to a convenience store, have them ring it up, pay the money, keep the receipt (just in case) and voila, you need not worry for another month. A bit more work than in America, but still bright and easy. That's not how my gas bill works. Imagine me, happily cleaning my apartment, when I am surprised by my doorbell ringing. "Oh, my friends," I say to the imaginary woodland critters gayly helping me clean, "I do so wonder who that could possibly be?" Away to the door I go, to find a small, Japanese woman, who takes one look at me, smiles knowingly, points to herself and says, "gas." I smile and nod, expecting a bill. She shows me a piece of paper; it looks odd. It does not have a bar code. After a few minutes of talking at me, and me getting more confused, she sighs, prints a receipt, and walks away. Confused, I none the less take the receipt to the nearest convenience store--the 7-11 down the way--with enough money in hand. I am then told that I need to take the bill to the bank. Shouldn't be too hard. Wrong, because I don't have a bank card yet. It's in the mail. Half an hour and three bank workers later, I leave the bank, bill still unpaid, because the charge to wire the money to the gas company would have been more than 50% of my total bill. Disheartened, I show the bill to one of my colleagues, and ask what I should do. She calls the company, and makes an appointment for them to come by so that I can pay my bill. The appointment is tomorrow, the money is waiting. I am sick and tired of bills.
Food
As many of my readers are aware, I am currently cooking illiterately. I do not speak Japanese, I do not read Japanese, and most of my amazing friends who do are an ocean away. Also, I refuse to bother my colleagues with such a simple problem as interpreting instructions! If it takes three weeks and three friends back home to decipher a box of pancakes, then so be it. However, though I am cooking illiterately, most of the food here is fairly easy to prepare. So easy, in fact, that once I figure it out (curse you, curry, I will best you yet) I can reliably make it. Simple, easy, and cheap. And it lasts, and lasts. But not forever, as I have found out. Even if you put it in the fridge, time takes its toll. Things rot, and nothing is more sad then preparing Okonomiyaki with carrot bits only to find that your carrot has magically metamorphosized [I like how it sounds better than the alternative, so sue me] into a new stage of life. It is like a free air freshener for your fridge, where free implies what you want to be of your fridge. And so, lesson is learned. Food may last a long time, but one had better use it or lose it; and in a world where food is the physical embodiment of a month of labor, rotting food is like a televangelist: sickly, oily, and a waste of money.
****~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Speaking of my fridge, I was deicing it the other weekend, and opened it up to find this:
But that's a bad picture. This one should better illustrate what it was, after I chipped it out:
This is the chunk of ice that was growing in an isolated part of my freezer. It's in the shape of Mt. Hood. I don't know why it was growing in that one part--it's not there this week--or why it chose the shape of Mt. Hood, but my theory is that I have a new magic fridge. Any new adventures with the fridge will be posted as they come up.
***~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A Social Life
I am a hermit, by which I mean that I am an introvert who really likes his alone time. I can do people, I can be social and interact with people, but on the whole, it can be really exhausting. As such, having my own apartment is fantastic. I can do whatever I want, and be alone whenever I want. It's such a happy cocoon of solitude that I don't want to ever leave. Which is a problem. Don't get me wrong, I will always leave for work, which I love, but I have a hard time leaving for other things. Particularly if they involve people. I went to Tokyo today--it was a lot of fun, I got lost twice, and I found the Ikea of electronics--but it was a struggle to get out of my apartment this morning. Not because I didn't want to do my shopping, nor because I didn't want to see the sights. I didn't want to deal with people. I didn't want to stand on a train, or push through crowds, or be generally lost in the sea of humanity. I ended up doing all three of those things, and had a blast, but it was a struggle to take that first step. And that's what I need to work on. I could end up being very happy sitting in my apartment here, never leaving except for work, but then I wouldn't experience Japanese culture. I wouldn't really make any memories. I wouldn't see the wonders of the world. If I just wanted to sit at home, doing nothing, I could have stayed at home in the US. It would be far cheaper, and all of my stuff is there. But I didn't do that, I came to Japan. And, as such, I need to start pushing myself to get out a little more on the weekends; make some friends, learn some culture, and cultivate memories. And, going with a social life...
Night Life
Particularly noise. And, no, I'm not talking about parties, nor loud music, teenagers in general, or the sweet sound of traffic. I live in suburbia in an apartment complex inhabited by single workers; the parties tend to happen elsewhere, most of us only play our music loud because we can't hear it otherwise, the teenagers try to get further away from their parents before they do anything, and the traffic just doesn't exist by my apartment. No, I'm talking about these:
And these:
Every night. Right outside my lofty "bedroom" window. To explain, please first imagine, "The Birds," the Pixar short before, "Monsters Inc." In it, several small birds land on a telephone wire, and immediately begin bickering amongst each other. The above wire is the same situation, but a worse sound. Imagine a happy little song bird; now stick our feathery friend in a blender, let 'er rip, and record whatever horrid sound comes through. This is the sound every bird on the wire makes. All. Night. Long. The tree, I should mention, is a similar story. It too is crawling with birds, which makes the entire tree shake in a way reminiscent of the velociraptors in, "Jurassic Park." It is sights like these that remind the mammalian population that the only reason we currently occupy our niches is because the dinosaurs got small, feathered, and delicious (sometimes I really hate my body for making me a vegetarian). It is terrifying, it is annoying, and it is life here in Konosu.
Standards
As I have mentioned, when you have your own apartment, you can do whatever you want whenever you want. Want to walk around nude? Go ahead. Want to burp and fart as you please? Do so with pleasure. Want to put up poster paper on the wall and use it to badmouth every single person who has ever said anything bad about you? Write away. But do keep in mind your standards. Yes, it is possible to do these things when you're alone and face no consequences--barring soon-to-be embarrassed unexpected guests--but keep in mind that humans are, by nature, creatures of habit. Had Bilbo tickled every fancy, Gandalf would have had his unexpected party at the home of a different hobbit. Likewise, if we choose to live with lower standards when alone in the comforts of our own home, that laxness will bleed into the rest of our lives. And, in many ways, that is good. Writing down the ways that someone can cause you problems can make one more candid in life, avoiding many problems by simply being honest and open. However, that candor can get a little grating; plus, by solely writing down what is wrong with people, we teach ourselves to be negative and only look for those aspects. Likewise, by walking around nude we can teach ourselves to be more comfortable with our bodies, but we can also become a little lax in our appearance. In all standards while alone, as in most parts of life, it is important to find a balance that you are both, a) comfortable with and, b) will allow you to still function unimpaired outside of your abode.
One final point to any intrepid adventurer out there: never be afraid to get lost, and if you do get lost, don't panic (note the big, friendly letters). Getting lost is part of exploration, because if you only stick with what you known, you'll never find your next gem. The first thing that you should do when it happens is find your barrings. Did you just get out of a station from an unfamiliar angle? Then where is the station. Looking for a specific store that you last saw at night? Look for any big or familiar land marks. If you can get yourself situated in relation to what you know, then you're more likely to be able to find either what you're looking for, or something better. The second thing that you should do is to remember where that landmark is, and never get separated from it. Think of it as a life-line--or a Golden Man, to use the Willamette term--that will always guide you back home. Now, the third thing: once you have yourself situated, pick a direction and go. Look for anything else familiar that you can use to triangulate the thing you're looking for. Don't be afraid if this takes a while, but use your logic: if you feel deeply that what you're looking for wasn't this far away, then turn back. Don't do the asinine man thing and keep going; you will just end up looking like a block headed tourist when you finally break down, ask for directions, and find out that it had just been around the corner from where you had started. Five miles away. Lastly, never lose your head. Even if you don't know where you are, odds are that those around you do. There are people all over the world willing and able to help a tourist in need. Plus, as any adventurer worth their salt knows, while the story of the destination may last a few minutes, the story of the journey can be three times as long and infinitely more entertaining. Well, this has been another adventure of the Austentatious; if you liked it, tell your friends; if you hated it, tell your enemies; and if you don't care either way, tell everyone.
So, I am currently writing this in my first apartment. Ever. It's fantabulous (a portmanteau of, "fantastic" and, "fabulous" that I've been using for years. Let it be known here and now, oh future linguistic peoples, that I made it up! Or, at the very least, that I came up with it on my own, independent of any other source) and tiny, and I absolutely love it. I love my loft, and the death-defying climb up and down the ladder of death whenever I want to sleep. I love my tiny kitchen, and how I've finally rearranged things so that I can use both burners. I love my living area, and how my desk looked so useable this morning, but now looks like a disaster zone--complete with crying refugees (order now for one low price of 9.95). And above all, I love knowing that, no matter what, it's a place where I can really be alone.
That's not to say that there aren't problems; far from it. But most of these are familiar problems, such as bills and groceries, that I expected and knew full well how to deal with. In America. But this is Japan, where everything is different. As such, there have been some, shall we say, unexpected hiccups on the road to independence, mostly due to my cultural ignorance.
Bills
Bills, bills, bills; everyone has bills. I have bills. I've had bills. Bills are simple so long as you're smart. You just check a box, input some numbers, and then, suddenly, money magically flies away from your account every month to go where it's supposed to. It's simple, it's easy, and you only need to really worry once. In America. Here in Japan, there are two ways to pay bills: the way that I researched, and the way that it has turned out. From my research, it sounded simple: you take your bill to a convenience store, have them ring it up, pay the money, keep the receipt (just in case) and voila, you need not worry for another month. A bit more work than in America, but still bright and easy. That's not how my gas bill works. Imagine me, happily cleaning my apartment, when I am surprised by my doorbell ringing. "Oh, my friends," I say to the imaginary woodland critters gayly helping me clean, "I do so wonder who that could possibly be?" Away to the door I go, to find a small, Japanese woman, who takes one look at me, smiles knowingly, points to herself and says, "gas." I smile and nod, expecting a bill. She shows me a piece of paper; it looks odd. It does not have a bar code. After a few minutes of talking at me, and me getting more confused, she sighs, prints a receipt, and walks away. Confused, I none the less take the receipt to the nearest convenience store--the 7-11 down the way--with enough money in hand. I am then told that I need to take the bill to the bank. Shouldn't be too hard. Wrong, because I don't have a bank card yet. It's in the mail. Half an hour and three bank workers later, I leave the bank, bill still unpaid, because the charge to wire the money to the gas company would have been more than 50% of my total bill. Disheartened, I show the bill to one of my colleagues, and ask what I should do. She calls the company, and makes an appointment for them to come by so that I can pay my bill. The appointment is tomorrow, the money is waiting. I am sick and tired of bills.
Food
As many of my readers are aware, I am currently cooking illiterately. I do not speak Japanese, I do not read Japanese, and most of my amazing friends who do are an ocean away. Also, I refuse to bother my colleagues with such a simple problem as interpreting instructions! If it takes three weeks and three friends back home to decipher a box of pancakes, then so be it. However, though I am cooking illiterately, most of the food here is fairly easy to prepare. So easy, in fact, that once I figure it out (curse you, curry, I will best you yet) I can reliably make it. Simple, easy, and cheap. And it lasts, and lasts. But not forever, as I have found out. Even if you put it in the fridge, time takes its toll. Things rot, and nothing is more sad then preparing Okonomiyaki with carrot bits only to find that your carrot has magically metamorphosized [I like how it sounds better than the alternative, so sue me] into a new stage of life. It is like a free air freshener for your fridge, where free implies what you want to be of your fridge. And so, lesson is learned. Food may last a long time, but one had better use it or lose it; and in a world where food is the physical embodiment of a month of labor, rotting food is like a televangelist: sickly, oily, and a waste of money.
****~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Speaking of my fridge, I was deicing it the other weekend, and opened it up to find this:
But that's a bad picture. This one should better illustrate what it was, after I chipped it out:
***~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A Social Life
I am a hermit, by which I mean that I am an introvert who really likes his alone time. I can do people, I can be social and interact with people, but on the whole, it can be really exhausting. As such, having my own apartment is fantastic. I can do whatever I want, and be alone whenever I want. It's such a happy cocoon of solitude that I don't want to ever leave. Which is a problem. Don't get me wrong, I will always leave for work, which I love, but I have a hard time leaving for other things. Particularly if they involve people. I went to Tokyo today--it was a lot of fun, I got lost twice, and I found the Ikea of electronics--but it was a struggle to get out of my apartment this morning. Not because I didn't want to do my shopping, nor because I didn't want to see the sights. I didn't want to deal with people. I didn't want to stand on a train, or push through crowds, or be generally lost in the sea of humanity. I ended up doing all three of those things, and had a blast, but it was a struggle to take that first step. And that's what I need to work on. I could end up being very happy sitting in my apartment here, never leaving except for work, but then I wouldn't experience Japanese culture. I wouldn't really make any memories. I wouldn't see the wonders of the world. If I just wanted to sit at home, doing nothing, I could have stayed at home in the US. It would be far cheaper, and all of my stuff is there. But I didn't do that, I came to Japan. And, as such, I need to start pushing myself to get out a little more on the weekends; make some friends, learn some culture, and cultivate memories. And, going with a social life...
Night Life
Particularly noise. And, no, I'm not talking about parties, nor loud music, teenagers in general, or the sweet sound of traffic. I live in suburbia in an apartment complex inhabited by single workers; the parties tend to happen elsewhere, most of us only play our music loud because we can't hear it otherwise, the teenagers try to get further away from their parents before they do anything, and the traffic just doesn't exist by my apartment. No, I'm talking about these:
And these:
Standards
As I have mentioned, when you have your own apartment, you can do whatever you want whenever you want. Want to walk around nude? Go ahead. Want to burp and fart as you please? Do so with pleasure. Want to put up poster paper on the wall and use it to badmouth every single person who has ever said anything bad about you? Write away. But do keep in mind your standards. Yes, it is possible to do these things when you're alone and face no consequences--barring soon-to-be embarrassed unexpected guests--but keep in mind that humans are, by nature, creatures of habit. Had Bilbo tickled every fancy, Gandalf would have had his unexpected party at the home of a different hobbit. Likewise, if we choose to live with lower standards when alone in the comforts of our own home, that laxness will bleed into the rest of our lives. And, in many ways, that is good. Writing down the ways that someone can cause you problems can make one more candid in life, avoiding many problems by simply being honest and open. However, that candor can get a little grating; plus, by solely writing down what is wrong with people, we teach ourselves to be negative and only look for those aspects. Likewise, by walking around nude we can teach ourselves to be more comfortable with our bodies, but we can also become a little lax in our appearance. In all standards while alone, as in most parts of life, it is important to find a balance that you are both, a) comfortable with and, b) will allow you to still function unimpaired outside of your abode.
One final point to any intrepid adventurer out there: never be afraid to get lost, and if you do get lost, don't panic (note the big, friendly letters). Getting lost is part of exploration, because if you only stick with what you known, you'll never find your next gem. The first thing that you should do when it happens is find your barrings. Did you just get out of a station from an unfamiliar angle? Then where is the station. Looking for a specific store that you last saw at night? Look for any big or familiar land marks. If you can get yourself situated in relation to what you know, then you're more likely to be able to find either what you're looking for, or something better. The second thing that you should do is to remember where that landmark is, and never get separated from it. Think of it as a life-line--or a Golden Man, to use the Willamette term--that will always guide you back home. Now, the third thing: once you have yourself situated, pick a direction and go. Look for anything else familiar that you can use to triangulate the thing you're looking for. Don't be afraid if this takes a while, but use your logic: if you feel deeply that what you're looking for wasn't this far away, then turn back. Don't do the asinine man thing and keep going; you will just end up looking like a block headed tourist when you finally break down, ask for directions, and find out that it had just been around the corner from where you had started. Five miles away. Lastly, never lose your head. Even if you don't know where you are, odds are that those around you do. There are people all over the world willing and able to help a tourist in need. Plus, as any adventurer worth their salt knows, while the story of the destination may last a few minutes, the story of the journey can be three times as long and infinitely more entertaining. Well, this has been another adventure of the Austentatious; if you liked it, tell your friends; if you hated it, tell your enemies; and if you don't care either way, tell everyone.
Monday, September 16, 2013
Ep. 7 Ko-nowing Konos
Far from a vicious vacuum of vice, villainy, and vitriolic viscosity, this veritable village--of a certain city size--of Konosu seems a peaceful place of sleep and slumber. Having lived here for but two weeks, the epicenter of activity--the Elumi shopping mall--is well explored and known. However, outside the mall exists a world both fain and fair; a world filled with the meeting of the known and unknown, a point where feelings of nostalgia mix with the curiosity caused by a circuitous circumference of culture: The Knownish lands. Here reside the Knownish people, so called because while they may be known by appearance or personality, they are known no further than that. Here too reside the Knownish fauna, who are so famed for their trickery of appearing as simple trees of a similar yet subtly-strange variety to what one has back home. Likewise are the Knownish buildings, which contain such Known symbols as these
So familiar, yet the meaning is hidden behind a cultural wall alien to American sensibilities. Equally un-comprehensible is the unusual usage of, "since" upon this circular sign. Usually symbolizing a certain sagacity and skill, in this case it's decree that said shop has existed since the very beginnings of time ten years ago in 2003 gives the impression of higher dreams than the bright colors suggest. Still, within this town there do indeed lie many secrets; secrets so terrible and grand that they dominate the atmosphere of a one block radius. Still, as an intrepid explorer and adventurous American, it is my duty to uncover those secrets and restore peace, order, rational, and utter chaotic insanity to this world!
I am convinced that 90% of the shops in Konosu fall into one of two varieties. They are either a) hair cutting places, or b) Patisseries. The above two where less than a block apart from each other, with another around the corner from each. Plus the one in the mall...plus the one across the street from the mall...plus the one around the corner from the mall...etc etc etc. The pastry shops, however, are a little more difficult to find, due to their desire to be more refined. They seem to shun bright colors entirely, going for the classy look that only the utterly obtuse obtain. In fact, quite often they are a combined flower and pastry shop. There are four in the mall, all next to each other, though one has been relegated to the position of kiosk. There is another across the street from the mall,
one around the corner from my apartment, etc you get the idea. They are everywhere; and for the life of me I cannot see how they could all stay in business. In fact, I can't see how any of them are in business, since I have never seen a single human being set foot in one; but obviously, the desire of this town for constant haircuts and a near limitless supply of small, sweet treats must go beyond the normal. Still, I have only been here a few weeks; it might make an interesting little experiment to see how many are still around at this time next year.
Anyway, this is the mall where I work:
And this is the insane intersection near the mall:
True, in terms of sheer messiness this has nothing on kamikaze corner (I must admit, I feel a little strange saying that name while being in Japan, given the differences--and there's another earthquake--in how our respective cultures see that word. But, a name is a name, so I will use it) but it is still intimidating none the less. This is a T shaped intersection--clearly seen here are the arms of the T...
A fairly small and quaint public library. They have their movie section, their music section, and they even have a little section for children where you have to take off your shoes. All in all, a quaint, civic little place of learning and self betterment. This is the building that it's housed in:
The library takes up a fraction of the first floor, the rest being given over to storage and things. The second floor, apparently, has a rather nice--and cheap--Italian restaurant. All in all, a fun little cultural exchange to compliment the library one floor below. The top two floors, however, are something all together different. They are the brand new--and, at $18 a ticket, expensive by US standards--movie theater. I have not gone to a movie yet, but in a land where I feel like I'm in the future, suddenly I know events before they happen. Because this theater shows a lot of international films, and they tend to be several months behind the US. As such, while Japan is only just starting to get promotions for a movie entitled, "Minions" in Japan, I already know the plot (also, hearing minions singing Boberan while on the way to work is a surprisingly good pick-me-up). As such, I should be able to avoid spending my money there for a few months, although I must say that I am tempted to see what they are like.
Speaking of spending money, things in Japan are a little different than the US. For one, Japan is very much a cash based economy. That doesn't mean that places won't accept cards, but that to have someone in front of you pull out their card is akin to having someone ahead of you pull out their checkbook back home: things are about to take far longer than they should. Once the tech-obsessed dipwads have finished the overly laborious process--read: I miss the ease that are swipers back home--and everyone else has gone through, it is now time to pay. In the US, it is considered good manners to pass the money physically from your hand to the employees hand; I don't know why, it just is. Here in Japan, that is not always the case; in fact, in most places, it is considered a tad barbaric to do so. Instead, most registers in Japan have a little pan next to them, either on the counter or on the teller machine. You put your money into the pan, and the checkout person will then take it, ask to make sure that this is how you want to pay, and give you your change. Generally, this change will include what is probably the single most useless currency that I have ever seen: the one yen coin. In a place where all but the cheapest of the cheap costs over 100 yen, why do they feel the need to have a penny? I will admit, we have the darn, useless thing in the US, and it's annoying because you almost never get to use it and it costs more to make than the value of the coin. But at least there it's a decimal place! Here, it's part of the larger total! Of course, since I mentally move the decimal place over two spots anyway, there really isn't any difference between the two coins. Oh wait, there is. In the US, we only really see a penny because something is ._9 cents. Here, I have bought things that end in a six, giving me four of the bloody things. Honestly, I keep carrying four one yen coins around with me to round up, but keep forgetting about them. GGGGAAAAAHHHHHHH!!! I'm drowning in circular aluminum uselessness!
But, back to Japan, your clerk will then give you your change. If you are in a grocery store, they will then hand you the new basket they have placed your items in, put in two plastic bags, and send you on your way to pack your own things into bags. It keeps lines fast, and ensures that you always know where everything is. In a goods store--such as where I got the throw pillows for my couch (that's right, I have throw pillows. This knowledge excites me more than it should, but the fact that I bought throw pillows for MY couch makes me feel so...responsible)--and non-grocery food stores, they will put your purchases in a bag and then carefully take the bag shut. Sometimes, after this, then will then put your smaller bag into a larger one, which they will keep open. I don't know why they do this, but they do. And I'm fine with it, because it ensures that all of my stuff stays dry, but it's still a little bit of a shock every time that they do it.
Now, the last difference in payment can be quite large. ~15% on average, to be precise. That's right, I'm talking about tips. In America, it is expected to tip, so workers wages are comparatively low with the expectation that their tips will make up the difference. In Japan, no one tips. Ever. For anything. So, today I had dinner and decided that I wanted a taste of home. It has been almost a month since I first arrived, and the only truly western thing that I have bought was a box of lucky charms. So, I went to the mall, went to the food court, and opted for the only western delight available to me: Baskin Robbins. I say only because, though there is a KFC in the food court, recent events have confirmed that meat is just not something that I can eat. Anyway, I was planning on a small cone, but when I got there I noticed that they still had a sign up. This was a sign that I had been staring at since it went up about a week and a half ago: crepes. Baskin Robbins was selling crepes. Now, they had moved the sign out of the way, so I hadn't noticed it at first. However, when I saw it I knew that one must be mine. So, I went up and, after a small exchange, ordered one. As this was an American based company, I expected that they would have the crepe in the back, waiting to be heated, then covered in ice creamy goodness and handed to the customer. No. This is Japan, where even McDonalds apparently tastes fresh and their Chicken nuggets apparently taste as though they once came from a real chicken. They gave me a number, and I got to watch as the lady behind the counter frantically made the dough, baked the crepe, prepared the whipped cream, and put on the ice cream, all while simultaneously helping the steady stream of customers who happened to come just behind me. I felt so bad that I was making the end of her day that much worse. In the US we are told that a tip is supposed to be for good service, so if someone treats you well then you tip them extra-well. However, in Japan, no one tips. For anything. Ever. And so, when my crepe was prepared, I thanked her, and felt bad that I could do nothing else for her incredible work ethic.
Now, I'm going to end this post with some pictures, but before I do I must reiterate a point that I made in my first post: I'm not here to talk about my job. Believe me, there are stories that I want to tell, but for my students and my fellow staff members, I won't--they're all positive stories, by the by. The thing is, as culturally illiterate as I am, I could easily say something that, in the US, wouldn't have even blipped on the radar of, "issue", yet here could be counted as a great insult. As an educator, I cannot and will not ever put anyone in my workplace in an awkward position--the surrounding community, however, is a different matter. One final thing about being abroad...(*spoiler alert*) for those of you who have not seen it, the new Star Trek movie starts off with the crew of the Enterprise saving a very technologically unadvanced race from extinction. In the process, they become gods, and the race abandons the religion that they had been following to now worship the Enterprise (*end spoiler*). I hate this part of the movie. I have kvetched to many people about this part of the movie. Why? Because culture lasts. More often than not, when a culture comes across something that it cannot explain, it does not abandon what it has and take up this new thing. Rather, it adapts the new thing to the culture. In the case of the movie, the aliens should have started worshiping the Enterprise as a messenger of the gods, not a supreme god itself. Likewise--and this connects to a story that I'm not posting here--people will always analyze new information within the framework that they have. So, if they make the wrong assumption from some new information, it's simply because they are adapting it to what their culture taught them to think. Anyway, this has been another Adventure in the Austentatious. If you liked it, tell your friends; if you hated it, tell your enemies; and if you don't care either way, tell everyone.
Picture Time:
A small map of Konosu, near the station.
One final thing; If you enjoy reading my blog, and want to hear the sound of my voice, let me know in the comments and I'll start up a video blog as well to give an animated sense to my stories.
the ever swirling infinity of red, white, and blue symbolizing the ever entwined--yet never modernly mixed--professions of barber and surgeon. Likewise, on a similar yet more fashionable shop, appears the lettering
I am convinced that 90% of the shops in Konosu fall into one of two varieties. They are either a) hair cutting places, or b) Patisseries. The above two where less than a block apart from each other, with another around the corner from each. Plus the one in the mall...plus the one across the street from the mall...plus the one around the corner from the mall...etc etc etc. The pastry shops, however, are a little more difficult to find, due to their desire to be more refined. They seem to shun bright colors entirely, going for the classy look that only the utterly obtuse obtain. In fact, quite often they are a combined flower and pastry shop. There are four in the mall, all next to each other, though one has been relegated to the position of kiosk. There is another across the street from the mall,
Anyway, this is the mall where I work:
And from here, pretty much directly across the leftmost cross walk from where I was, you can sort of see the intersecting end of the other road. You can also see the brilliant simplicity in their solution. See, the danger in an intersection is that some sad pedestrian will try to walk across and get hit by a car. Within the general perception of the universe, this is considered bad. So, in what was obviously a quest to save lives because people apparently weren't smart enough to go across one way and across the other, all pedestrians walk at the same time. No cars. And, not surprising, this works. People don't have to worry about being hit by cars, and cars don't have to worry about being sent to the scrap heap because their insurance premiums got too high. Overall, an elegant--if strange--system.
There is a building next to the mall. Here is what the sign outside says.
Speaking of spending money, things in Japan are a little different than the US. For one, Japan is very much a cash based economy. That doesn't mean that places won't accept cards, but that to have someone in front of you pull out their card is akin to having someone ahead of you pull out their checkbook back home: things are about to take far longer than they should. Once the tech-obsessed dipwads have finished the overly laborious process--read: I miss the ease that are swipers back home--and everyone else has gone through, it is now time to pay. In the US, it is considered good manners to pass the money physically from your hand to the employees hand; I don't know why, it just is. Here in Japan, that is not always the case; in fact, in most places, it is considered a tad barbaric to do so. Instead, most registers in Japan have a little pan next to them, either on the counter or on the teller machine. You put your money into the pan, and the checkout person will then take it, ask to make sure that this is how you want to pay, and give you your change. Generally, this change will include what is probably the single most useless currency that I have ever seen: the one yen coin. In a place where all but the cheapest of the cheap costs over 100 yen, why do they feel the need to have a penny? I will admit, we have the darn, useless thing in the US, and it's annoying because you almost never get to use it and it costs more to make than the value of the coin. But at least there it's a decimal place! Here, it's part of the larger total! Of course, since I mentally move the decimal place over two spots anyway, there really isn't any difference between the two coins. Oh wait, there is. In the US, we only really see a penny because something is ._9 cents. Here, I have bought things that end in a six, giving me four of the bloody things. Honestly, I keep carrying four one yen coins around with me to round up, but keep forgetting about them. GGGGAAAAAHHHHHHH!!! I'm drowning in circular aluminum uselessness!
But, back to Japan, your clerk will then give you your change. If you are in a grocery store, they will then hand you the new basket they have placed your items in, put in two plastic bags, and send you on your way to pack your own things into bags. It keeps lines fast, and ensures that you always know where everything is. In a goods store--such as where I got the throw pillows for my couch (that's right, I have throw pillows. This knowledge excites me more than it should, but the fact that I bought throw pillows for MY couch makes me feel so...responsible)--and non-grocery food stores, they will put your purchases in a bag and then carefully take the bag shut. Sometimes, after this, then will then put your smaller bag into a larger one, which they will keep open. I don't know why they do this, but they do. And I'm fine with it, because it ensures that all of my stuff stays dry, but it's still a little bit of a shock every time that they do it.
Now, the last difference in payment can be quite large. ~15% on average, to be precise. That's right, I'm talking about tips. In America, it is expected to tip, so workers wages are comparatively low with the expectation that their tips will make up the difference. In Japan, no one tips. Ever. For anything. So, today I had dinner and decided that I wanted a taste of home. It has been almost a month since I first arrived, and the only truly western thing that I have bought was a box of lucky charms. So, I went to the mall, went to the food court, and opted for the only western delight available to me: Baskin Robbins. I say only because, though there is a KFC in the food court, recent events have confirmed that meat is just not something that I can eat. Anyway, I was planning on a small cone, but when I got there I noticed that they still had a sign up. This was a sign that I had been staring at since it went up about a week and a half ago: crepes. Baskin Robbins was selling crepes. Now, they had moved the sign out of the way, so I hadn't noticed it at first. However, when I saw it I knew that one must be mine. So, I went up and, after a small exchange, ordered one. As this was an American based company, I expected that they would have the crepe in the back, waiting to be heated, then covered in ice creamy goodness and handed to the customer. No. This is Japan, where even McDonalds apparently tastes fresh and their Chicken nuggets apparently taste as though they once came from a real chicken. They gave me a number, and I got to watch as the lady behind the counter frantically made the dough, baked the crepe, prepared the whipped cream, and put on the ice cream, all while simultaneously helping the steady stream of customers who happened to come just behind me. I felt so bad that I was making the end of her day that much worse. In the US we are told that a tip is supposed to be for good service, so if someone treats you well then you tip them extra-well. However, in Japan, no one tips. For anything. Ever. And so, when my crepe was prepared, I thanked her, and felt bad that I could do nothing else for her incredible work ethic.
Now, I'm going to end this post with some pictures, but before I do I must reiterate a point that I made in my first post: I'm not here to talk about my job. Believe me, there are stories that I want to tell, but for my students and my fellow staff members, I won't--they're all positive stories, by the by. The thing is, as culturally illiterate as I am, I could easily say something that, in the US, wouldn't have even blipped on the radar of, "issue", yet here could be counted as a great insult. As an educator, I cannot and will not ever put anyone in my workplace in an awkward position--the surrounding community, however, is a different matter. One final thing about being abroad...(*spoiler alert*) for those of you who have not seen it, the new Star Trek movie starts off with the crew of the Enterprise saving a very technologically unadvanced race from extinction. In the process, they become gods, and the race abandons the religion that they had been following to now worship the Enterprise (*end spoiler*). I hate this part of the movie. I have kvetched to many people about this part of the movie. Why? Because culture lasts. More often than not, when a culture comes across something that it cannot explain, it does not abandon what it has and take up this new thing. Rather, it adapts the new thing to the culture. In the case of the movie, the aliens should have started worshiping the Enterprise as a messenger of the gods, not a supreme god itself. Likewise--and this connects to a story that I'm not posting here--people will always analyze new information within the framework that they have. So, if they make the wrong assumption from some new information, it's simply because they are adapting it to what their culture taught them to think. Anyway, this has been another Adventure in the Austentatious. If you liked it, tell your friends; if you hated it, tell your enemies; and if you don't care either way, tell everyone.
Picture Time:
 |
| This is what counts as a park in Konosu: a strip of green between two streets. |
 | |
| Yes, that is an ice cream vending machine. Now that I have seen everything | ... |
 |
| A cute little house that I saw. It's Western influence made it stand out. |
 |
| I found a shrine, though I have yet to visit it. |
 |
| Information about the shrine. |
 |
| The entrance to a cemetery. I will be visiting there, but not with my camera. |
 |
| I have no idea what this is, but it was on a back road behind a hair cutting place. Any ideas? |
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| When abroad, anything recognizable jumps out at you. Hence this: Century 21. |
One final thing; If you enjoy reading my blog, and want to hear the sound of my voice, let me know in the comments and I'll start up a video blog as well to give an animated sense to my stories.
Monday, September 9, 2013
Xenologue 5.1 The Joy of Cooking Illiterally
This section will be separated into three parts. The first will be
all of my attempts, either failed or otherwise at Japanese cooking. The
second will be all of the Japanese recipes that have been successful,
and the third will be all of my other recipes that I am making while I
am here.
1) Courageous attempts
Darn that curry. The rice maker worked perfectly, the tofu was ready, and then...but I'm getting ahead of myself. First, boil water, and add in vegetables. Then add in a block of curry, which will start dissolving.
Once it has dissolved completely, take it off of the heat, but keep it
covered. If you wish to add some, now is the time to add in the tofu. Next, take a bowl, and fill the bottom with rice.
Then, pour curry on top of it.
Crap, that curry is a bit more watery than it should be. Maybe I had too much water? Maybe if I put something else on it...
Hmmm...adding tofu doesn't make it look right. It
was edible, that's for sure, but I wouldn't want to ever have it again.
I'm thinking that I might have had either too much water, or not enough
curry. Either way, the stuff should be darker than this, and far less
runny. Overall, a disappointment...and it had smelled so nice too...and
wouldn't you know it, when I was cleaning the dishes, it turned out that
not all of the curry had dissolved. No, there was a good sized chunk of
pure curry at the bottom of the pan. Still, I have more, so attempts
will be made!
note: Success!..I think...
#2: Fail...utter fail...my no feels good...ugh...!
#3: Success? Maybe? I'm giving it a few hours before I make a call.
2) Japanese successes
Okonomiyaki:
Add a half cup of water for every cup of okonomiyaki powder, then stir them together in a bowl. Then, add one egg for each cup of powder, as well as any fillings that you wish it to have--usually, vegetables and meet. Now, coat the bottom of a pan with oil, and set it on heat. Then, as the oil starts to bubble, pour about a cups worth of okonomiyaki into the pan. When it has fried enough that the sides have the consistence of bread, flip them. If done right, they should cook well and look like this:
Then, you cover it in the sauce,and enjoy.
Later addition: If you add vegetables, it ends up looking like this:
And then with sauce...
Japanese Curry:
No success yet, but gosh darn it I will get everything right eventually.
Success...but no pictures. I think that this curry is supposed to be more liquidy than the one that I had before. The issue last time was too much water; at least it was edible this time.
3) Depression Era Cooking
The Austin Special:
This is for everyone who had breakfast with me in college. This is really simple: scramble one egg, and make one piece of french toast. Bada bing, bada boom, you're done.
A Schocking Breakfast:
First, scramble two eggs. Then, place them on a piece of bread.
Finally, drizzle yogurt on top.
Now, if you are feeling up to it in your budget, you can purchase some fruit and have that as well.
Tada, a Schocking
Breakfast. And, as an added tip, the lids of Tupperware work wonders for that other side of the grapefruit:
A Schocking dinner:
A variation on the Schocking Breakfast. First, take beans that are recognizeable because they are in English (always a plus, that).
Then, heat them over the stove. Finally, drizzle them over a piece of bread,
and throw in some kind of citrus fruit. Congratulations, you have made a Schocking Dinner. It's filling, it's cheap, I think that it's healthy, and it's easier on your teeth.
4) Juice Cubed
Tired of always running out of juice? Do you wish you had more when it's almost gone? Well is there a solution for you. First, pour juice into a third of a cup.
Then, just add water.
Voila! Your juice will now last three times as long.
And, as an added tip, when your juice gets down to a third of the container, just fill it back up, full as new!
5) The Diet Doughnut
Want a doughnut without all the hassle of killing yourself faster? Have I got the delectable for you. First, take your standard avocado, and saw that sucker in half lengthwise. Now, split the sides to leave yourself with...that's right, two halves of an avocado! Ent life amazing that way. Now, remove the pit from the side that still has it. You now have to delicious pieces of greenery with ready made holes already cut. However, if you would like to you may enlarge the holes with the help of a spoon. Now, peel the skin off, and fill the hole, leaving you with...
Dum, duh duh DDDAAAAAHHHH! The world's healthiest doughnut. Now, if you fill it with something gooey, like yogurt, then your doughnut might not last very long. However, filling it with something stronger, like cream cheese, will allow you to neatly put your creation back together, leading to screams of fear whenever you start munching on your Frankenstein-esque creation.
6) Tha-nihon-sgiving Pasta
Being a vegetarian for a meal dedicated to the mastication of plucky yet domesticatedly dumb foul can be tricky. Being a vegetarian in Japan can be tricky. Ergo, being a vegetarian at a Thanksgiving feat in Japan is tricky^2. Thankfully, history gave us pasta, sauces, and veggies to provide possibilities and proteins (mmmmm...living). To start off with, bring a pot of water to boil. Then, add in as much pasta as you would like.
//**editors note: When making food for eight people, assume that everyone will bring enough food for eight people. Unless 56 more people magically appear, please only prepare enough food for four people...or expect to live on left overs. Lots and lots of tasty leftovers.**//
Stir for a couple of minutes, and then add carrot slices. This is not because you rather like boiled carrots, but when going to a party it is important to keep in mind that others apparently enjoy their vegetables mushy. While this mixture boils, dice up two or three I-have-no-idea-what-kind-these-are mushrooms, one small green pepper, and a few more carrot slices. Once the pasta is tender, drain the water and add in as much sauce as is appropriate. Then, add in the diced vegetables, turn off the heat, and mix. Voila, a healthy, tasty pasta.
6) The Not-In-Cups No-Bake Cookies
Are you one who religiously follows the directions for any recipe? Have your friends been trying to help you turn your fondu into fun-do? Then try this delicious recipe on for size.
Step one: Find a delicious looking recipe online for one of your favorite treats, the no-bake cookie. Then, carefully scour the store for the right ingredients. You will find them, but you might be taken aback by the fact that there are two kinds of sugar. This will be unexpected, but don't worry, it won't affect the taste. Get everything home, and then pull out a measuring cup to get everything just right. Stare at the cup until you realize that it's measuring in ml instead of cups. Stare at the recipe that gives instructions in cups. Think briefly about finding a quick converter online, but then dismiss the thought because Japanese cups are smaller anyway. Mix a dash of milk, a bit of butter, a lot of sugar, and some chocolate into a bowl. Put the bowl on the stove, and wait for it to boil.
//**
//I had a picture for this stage, but it got lost in the data transfer. Sadface.
//**
Now, add some peanut butter and a metric ton of oatmeal. If you are using a normal sized Japanese container of peanut butter, this should be about half the container. Mix everything together, then carefully ladle it out into balls. Eat and enjoy.
For even more fun: Wait ten minutes, then realize that you completely forgot to add the vanilla. You can either panic for five minutes, or decide that they're fine either way.
1) Courageous attempts
Darn that curry. The rice maker worked perfectly, the tofu was ready, and then...but I'm getting ahead of myself. First, boil water, and add in vegetables. Then add in a block of curry, which will start dissolving.
note: Success!..I think...
#2: Fail...utter fail...my no feels good...ugh...!
#3: Success? Maybe? I'm giving it a few hours before I make a call.
2) Japanese successes
Okonomiyaki:
Add a half cup of water for every cup of okonomiyaki powder, then stir them together in a bowl. Then, add one egg for each cup of powder, as well as any fillings that you wish it to have--usually, vegetables and meet. Now, coat the bottom of a pan with oil, and set it on heat. Then, as the oil starts to bubble, pour about a cups worth of okonomiyaki into the pan. When it has fried enough that the sides have the consistence of bread, flip them. If done right, they should cook well and look like this:
Later addition: If you add vegetables, it ends up looking like this:
Om nom nom (one of my greatest feats in college: getting Om Nom Nom into an in class essay. A rough paraphrase of the quote: "The Christian god is omnipotent, omniscient, omnieverything, Omni Omni Omni).
Japanese Curry:
No success yet, but gosh darn it I will get everything right eventually.
Success...but no pictures. I think that this curry is supposed to be more liquidy than the one that I had before. The issue last time was too much water; at least it was edible this time.
3) Depression Era Cooking
The Austin Special:
This is for everyone who had breakfast with me in college. This is really simple: scramble one egg, and make one piece of french toast. Bada bing, bada boom, you're done.
A Schocking Breakfast:
First, scramble two eggs. Then, place them on a piece of bread.
Finally, drizzle yogurt on top.
Now, if you are feeling up to it in your budget, you can purchase some fruit and have that as well.
A Schocking dinner:
A variation on the Schocking Breakfast. First, take beans that are recognizeable because they are in English (always a plus, that).
Then, heat them over the stove. Finally, drizzle them over a piece of bread,
and throw in some kind of citrus fruit. Congratulations, you have made a Schocking Dinner. It's filling, it's cheap, I think that it's healthy, and it's easier on your teeth.
4) Juice Cubed
Tired of always running out of juice? Do you wish you had more when it's almost gone? Well is there a solution for you. First, pour juice into a third of a cup.
5) The Diet Doughnut
Want a doughnut without all the hassle of killing yourself faster? Have I got the delectable for you. First, take your standard avocado, and saw that sucker in half lengthwise. Now, split the sides to leave yourself with...that's right, two halves of an avocado! Ent life amazing that way. Now, remove the pit from the side that still has it. You now have to delicious pieces of greenery with ready made holes already cut. However, if you would like to you may enlarge the holes with the help of a spoon. Now, peel the skin off, and fill the hole, leaving you with...
Dum, duh duh DDDAAAAAHHHH! The world's healthiest doughnut. Now, if you fill it with something gooey, like yogurt, then your doughnut might not last very long. However, filling it with something stronger, like cream cheese, will allow you to neatly put your creation back together, leading to screams of fear whenever you start munching on your Frankenstein-esque creation.
6) Tha-nihon-sgiving Pasta
Being a vegetarian for a meal dedicated to the mastication of plucky yet domesticatedly dumb foul can be tricky. Being a vegetarian in Japan can be tricky. Ergo, being a vegetarian at a Thanksgiving feat in Japan is tricky^2. Thankfully, history gave us pasta, sauces, and veggies to provide possibilities and proteins (mmmmm...living). To start off with, bring a pot of water to boil. Then, add in as much pasta as you would like.
//**editors note: When making food for eight people, assume that everyone will bring enough food for eight people. Unless 56 more people magically appear, please only prepare enough food for four people...or expect to live on left overs. Lots and lots of tasty leftovers.**//
Stir for a couple of minutes, and then add carrot slices. This is not because you rather like boiled carrots, but when going to a party it is important to keep in mind that others apparently enjoy their vegetables mushy. While this mixture boils, dice up two or three I-have-no-idea-what-kind-these-are mushrooms, one small green pepper, and a few more carrot slices. Once the pasta is tender, drain the water and add in as much sauce as is appropriate. Then, add in the diced vegetables, turn off the heat, and mix. Voila, a healthy, tasty pasta.
6) The Not-In-Cups No-Bake Cookies
Are you one who religiously follows the directions for any recipe? Have your friends been trying to help you turn your fondu into fun-do? Then try this delicious recipe on for size.
Step one: Find a delicious looking recipe online for one of your favorite treats, the no-bake cookie. Then, carefully scour the store for the right ingredients. You will find them, but you might be taken aback by the fact that there are two kinds of sugar. This will be unexpected, but don't worry, it won't affect the taste. Get everything home, and then pull out a measuring cup to get everything just right. Stare at the cup until you realize that it's measuring in ml instead of cups. Stare at the recipe that gives instructions in cups. Think briefly about finding a quick converter online, but then dismiss the thought because Japanese cups are smaller anyway. Mix a dash of milk, a bit of butter, a lot of sugar, and some chocolate into a bowl. Put the bowl on the stove, and wait for it to boil.
//**
//I had a picture for this stage, but it got lost in the data transfer. Sadface.
//**
Now, add some peanut butter and a metric ton of oatmeal. If you are using a normal sized Japanese container of peanut butter, this should be about half the container. Mix everything together, then carefully ladle it out into balls. Eat and enjoy.
For even more fun: Wait ten minutes, then realize that you completely forgot to add the vanilla. You can either panic for five minutes, or decide that they're fine either way.
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