TWO is a magic number...

...when you finally give in to a repetitive task. Like saying 'good morning', walking the dog or even WRITING A BLOG.

Today I have taken a break from my comfortable horizontal position of rest, to write to the masses (those two or three suckers...) about nikuman. Nikuman. Niku-manju. Meat...bun-type thing.

They are good. Too good. If anyone needs to find a reason for gaining weight in Japan, just blame it on nikuman. But if you are gaining weight, and you aren't eating nikuman, I ask you: 'Exactly WHAT are you doing?'.

But it isn't just the nikuman. It is the butaman, the tokusei nikuman, the shio-butaman, the pizaman, the kareman, the char-siu-man, the ooiri juicy nikuman and of course the anman and chocoman. If you have just read the previous passage and thought 'what is he talking about?', then I apologise now for my utter lack of care and attention to the fact that so many foreign words ending with -man MAY offend some people's ears.

But seriously, convenience stores are, by design, convenient (or at least they should be). In Japan, they are too convenient; but this is a positive when you really need it. For instance, when you are stuck without any money at stupid-o'clock in the morning and you desperately need a meaty treat to slake your post-alcohol fuelled thirst for animal flesh, you can first use the newly available 24hour ATM machines, and then you can take your money to the counter in order to pay for the biggest meat filled bun you can order. At 105 yen per snack, they fill a hole without making too much of one in your pocket.

I have also found that nikuman bring people together. In this world, there are very few people (who know of nikuman) and dislike them, or one of their hybrids. If you want to reward someone, by them a nikuman as a thank you snack. If you like someone, take them out for a coffee, but beforehand, stop off in a convenience store and get matching nikuman. The possibilities are ENDLESS. Which happens to make this blog sound like a cheap advertising gag for the next mail-order 'wonder-product' that can cut, slice, dice, tenderise, fillet, skin, season, cook and brown food perfectly in just one simple movement. The only difference is, you won't be disappointed by the nikuman when it comes (vegetarians...you can have pizaman and anman...).

As for this blog, I promise that when my head has cleared, my throat loses its inflammation, and my sanity returns, I shall be back to writing more sensible, dry and altogether less 'meaty' articles. Thank you for reading...

The first of many...

Well, this is an introductory post to let people know that I have just created a blog that either A: people will not read, or B: I shan't update in a long time and I will completely forget about it in time. Many people will tell you I am focussed, but it is also a trait of mine to give up something I don't go wholeheartedly for, and so I beg for the reader's forgiveness.

Currently, I'm sat in a small, cramped room in the middle of Tokyo, sipping on warm lemon tea (the uncomfortable luke-warm type, not the body-warming type). Well, now that you are imagining the sad figure of me, alone at my computer, rejoice that your life has a little bit more 'je ne sais quois' than mine.

It has been a month and a half since my presence came to grace the streets of Japan, the third installment of what I think of as an 'extended holiday to Japan' that has encompassed just under five years of my relatively short life (okay, I'm 21...getting old, but I can dream, can't I?). Things couldn't be better!...except, that is what I'd like to say, if things had been going well...
After having bank accounts in UK cancelled, and then problems with the processing of my JASSO scholarship, I am poor. Very poor. But you can't beat pure English resilience in the face of such hardship. That is what got us through the war...and the other 60 years of crap we've lived through since then.

But despite all of this, I have a smile on my face. 'Why is that?', you say? Well, I think it is because the Japanese have something called 'karaoke FREE-TIME'. Can YOU complain about 6 hours of non-stop karaoke with friends until 5am in the morning? To people who get-off to singing AND socialising (like me), it is a magical panacaea for all of life's little setbacks. But there are far more pleasures available in Japan...as many will already know.

The well cited example (and with good reason) is the 自動販売機, which for those of us that just 'don't do foreign letters' is a VENDING MACHINE. One on every street corner. Literally. The man who does not find a vending machine is very unlucky indeed! (That is a bit of 'Dutch wisdom' for you). But this leads me on to the next point: convenience.

This place is far too convenient. I like walking, I like taking pictures. But where is there to do either of those things in a concrete jungle that provides two convenience stores, a bento-ya, a post office, two banks, a 100 yen store and a supermarket just 60 metres down the road (sorry, I'll just US-ify that: about 60 met*ers* or 197 feet). In addition, it takes me 7 minutes to get to university. The furthest I ever have to walk is 15 minutes to the train station. And I can even make it easier for myself and get the Tokyo Metro (which is around the back of my dormitory). Helpful...but not conducive to weight loss. Thankfully, the Japanese thought of this, and in their infinite wisdom, came up with Calorie Mate. Yes, they ARE little blocks of cardboard with most of your daily nutrients, and they DO taste like nothing. I suppose if you are どうM and need a self-inflicted fix of internal punishment, Calorie Mate is definitely your 'mate'. Alternatively, I'd suggest it as a supplement to dieting - despite the less-than-appetising name.

But university life has been great so far. Four weeks of lessons, thousands of impersonal meetings with drunk (and sober) students, random encounters with homeless people, a 合宿 and many names on my phone book down the line, I'm managing to enjoy myself. It hasn't been the booze-fuelled bender that many expected it to be, but I couldn't really expect much in the face of abject poverty.

So my assessment of the situation will not be straightforward, I'm afraid. Please try to extrapolate the true meaning from my statement, when I say:
'Why am I only here for a year? Why am I suddenly turning green when I think of the people doing their whole degree here?'

Hopefully, I shall get a hit on my blog...even if it is an aging man in south England (my dad), or some random old lady who happened to click on the wrong button (I'm sorry madam, I'm sure if you press the x, it will go away).
Until next time...