Going Dutch In Japan

Can you ever pack too early?

2012-02-14T06:51:00.001+09:00

The answer is yes, you can. You could choose to pack a year before going somewhere, and that would be ridiculous. And packing two weeks before a big trip abroad would be as much a recipe for disaster (and forgotten necessities) as packing two hours prior to departure. So folks, after having experienced travel across the world on multiple occasions, I think the smart money is on: first a list, then a pile of items all put together in preparation, then left to ferment somewhere, and then packing your slightly fausty (but much better for it) clothes and miscellany about a day or two before leaving. This ensures that you have time to add things, have no time to worry that you have left that completely unnecessary nose-hair trimmer (or other item) that you feel you *may* use abroad, and have impetus to wash your clothes with more rapidity when in a foreign country. The last point is important, as we are all loathe to wash our clothes when we think that the 4 sets of underwear and three shirts we managed to squeeze into a suitcase can just about last for three weeks...

They can't. And even if they could, they shouldn't.

The magnitude and difficulty of this task is multiplied several-fold when moving to a new country and leaving the old one containing all your stuff behind. Those of you who are feeling flush will waste money on freight... And poor graduates who are moving in order to EARN the money they are lacking (like me) will try to fit a whole life into one economy class flight. People say "good luck with packing" and all I hear is "I don't envy you at all, thank God it ain't me!"

So, here I am, with my 'to-be-packed' pile (a veritable mountain) and my suitcase, ready for the 'big pack-athon', hoping that flying over East Asia won't result in a hijacking by Gojira (that's 'Godzilla' for the terminally uninformed). But honestly, the nervousness I felt about heading to China has dissipated like the grey after a bad storm - the storm is still there, but I don't know and I no longer care.

Excited.

I'm starting to wonder whether I should turn my journey in China into a part-gastronomic adventure. I have a list of things I'd like to try as long as my arm, and although I have managed to tick off such wondrous foods as kangaroo, horse, lamb sweetbreads (of the testicular variety) and so on (btw, I'm listing the NICE ones), I still have a long way to go, and I know I'll be able to get some foods I can't in the UK. So onwards and upwards with such delicacies as dog and snake.Details will come when I've actually had the chance to sample some of these delights, so until then, I'll keep it simple.

And on that bombshell (Jeremy Clarkson, you are a legend), I shall say good night.

Wild, free, and warmer than ever!

2012-02-08T13:49:00.001+09:00

The postal service is crap. But they saw to it that I got my package, so I shouldn't fault them. Even if they no longer deliver twice a day (yeah, I remember Royal Mail circa. 1900), and postage is expensive, and they take a break for lunch at 2pm. British people do not take siesta. Seriously people, when will we learn that complacency breeds poor service?

So earlier, I skipped heartily through town wearing my new coat from eBay, well, I jogged happily...okay, I moved swiftly through the streets to avoid the gazes of the town rats AKA chavs. $380 of down coat for £36 - BARGAIN! But I won't plug eBay like I did with nikuman... (see old blog on blogspot). It was warm, a little too warm, but perfect for a jaunt through the bitter cold of winter in North China, which is (funnily enough) where I'm going. Forward planning YEAH!

Seeing as I'm a charity case myself, it seemed suitable for me to wade through clothes in the charity shops, holding my breath where possible to avoid collapsing the nauseating smell of old perfume. They should have badges for that - like the ones in nuclear power-plants.

[Charity shops need badges]

But kudos to charity shop workers who trawl through the muck that gets dumped outside their shops to find the little gems amongst soiled trousers and half-used toiletries. I picked out two pairs of non-jeans, so now I should be ready to look like an old man/teacher for those kids in China. With my TWO pairs of trousers. For a whole year. Here's hoping I can buy loads in China.

And on another note, I'm hoping the train service in China is better than here too, since it can't get much worse. Example: Cam & Dursley Station to Yeovil Pen Mill. One train... £29. But what is that, national rail? I can get it down to £21 if I buy two tickets - one to Bristol, then one to Yeovil from there. ON THE SAME TRAIN? Wow, national rail, way to make the prices nonsensical. I guess I'll look forward to a service where just trying to figure out the pricing system isn't a massive mindfu*k.

...readers! I'll hold him back, escape before he mentions politics!!!

And if you are still here, I'll leave you with a picture of my other dog, almost 17 and still strong (though a little clumsy, somewhat blind and SELECTIVELY DEAF). I give you... SOX!

["Throw me the ball, throw it!"]

Later!

Snowdog

2012-02-05T09:08:00.001+09:00

My dog is cold. And that is not a euphemism. My furry dog is shivering...wait that sounds even worse.Okay, my dog, Harvey, is cold:
[He has tiger stripes...can you call a dog 'tabby'?]

It snowed earlier, and the temperatures were hard-pressed to creep over the 0 degree mark (yes, Celsius... we are civilised in the UK). So I was dragged along on an adventure into the brick and tarmac wilderness by my little sister. The tiger-dog Harvey was then forced upon me, along with a pair of gloves and a hat (conveniently placed on my face by my sister).

So with sister and dog in tow, face stinging, and regrets already looming, I headed towards the park. There were already some people, and a rat-dog at the park - now honestly, why do people buy dogs that stand at little higher than your foot? They are mangy, not cuddly, and the fact that they fit in your bag is not an attraction, it is an invitation for dog sh*t in your bag. Nonetheless, Harvey played nice, and my sister and I had a brief but epic snow fight.

It would have ranked among the great battles of history - had it not been for the fact that it was a little snow fight between a man and a small girl. So hold the victory parades, I'm not coming back triumphant...just embarrassed.

As the darkness began to fall, and the other people at the park left, we began a snowman. Great success was enjoyed by all, particularly Harvey, who seemed to take it upon himself to try and consume more than his body weight in snow. Well done, dog. Well done.

The 'fun' was abruptly ended with a rock-like snowball to the jaw at point blank range, and as I was not feeling like re-enacting scenes from Saving Private Ryan for my sister's pleasure, we returned home. The dog shivered. Uncontrollably. And much to my chagrin, I discovered that the resourcefulness of my little sister is not limited to humans - NO, she had created a garment for the dog. So no more shivers! Just Harvey looking sorry (warm) as a metrosexual accessory.
There is something I hate more than rat-dogs...and that is dogs in clothes, but I must admit that there was something humorous to Harvey lounging around in one of my sister's old pink jumpers...

Nicely done.

So now I've done dogs... tortoises, anyone?

Later!

A cold day, and a warm...mouse?

2012-02-05T04:30:00.001+09:00

[Posted yesterday on wordpress]
I'm not feeling my need to write a blog waning yet, but it is early days. And I'm making this an extended tweet if I continue on about 'how I feel about blogging'.

So, on to the main topic:

Warm mice. And not of the personal computing kind. Of the living, breathing, hundreds of heartbeats per minute kind. I woke up this morning to the pained mewing of a cat. The cat was ravenous, obviously, and I was equally as tired. So being the provider of food, I went outside in the cold to buy a package of meaty sustenance for my loud, furry friend.

[The fiend]

I DID NOT. Fatigue won out over the pressing need to see my breath spread white in front of me in the chilled morning air - and I slept in my nicely heated room, enjoying the silence that comes from putting the cat outside. An hour later I could sleep no more, so I got the food, put it out, and tried to find the cat.No cat. Anywhere. Where the cat should've been, I looked down to find a little mouse looking at me. 'Cute,' I think, for the briefest of moments, before I realise the the little fur-ball is only half a fur-ball, bloody and matted, staring lifelessly up at me.

Not so cute anymore.

I'm not grossed out by things like that, and I was unfazed by the condition suffered by the dead rodent (namely its lack of intestines). It was the fact that instead of waiting for a tasty meal of duck in jelly, processed from the finest of cat-safe meats/offal, the cat chose to eat the ass-end of a mouse, and then drop the rest off just to show me: "look at what I can do, bit*h!"

So, Smidge the cat, I now know that you are a force to be reckoned with, and that your impatience knows no bounds.

[One satisfied cat]

And now I have used one of the dirtiest tricks on the web: pictures of cats. Next time, cute babies!Or maybe not...

Now it really HAS been a while...

2012-02-05T04:29:00.001+09:00

I have a new blog @ goingdutchinjapan.wordpress.com.It must be pointed out that wordpress charges for custom site building, so this one looks more...friendly? Personal? Ridiculous? I'll leave it to the reader to decide. But for the time being, I shall copy posts between the two...Back soon. Very soon!

It's been a while...

2009-11-16T15:12:00.004+09:00

...and that may have something to do with the recovery time associated with consuming (or failing to consume) 2000 kcal of beef in Burger King. In one burger. YES, I mean THE Windows 7 burger. I'm afraid to say that I was conquered by this beast. But in 'afraid' I actually mean 'ecstatic', because it means I'm not as 'Mr Creosote' as I may previously have thought (WATCH Monty Python!). For those of you who are unfamiliar with the term 'Windows 7 burger', I shall explain:

It comprises 7 full-size Burger King quarter-pounders, a tiny bit of dressing, pickles, tomato and ketchup/mayonnaise mix...and a bun - or what WOULD have been a bun, if it hadn't been more like a wet sponge filled with, yes, grease. Not only that, when you pick up the Windows 7 burger, more grease spills out from between those 7 blocks of processed cow-flesh pressed into the shape of something not remotely palatable for humans. If it were to be suggested in England, I think that health and safety would have something to say about it...something like: "It isn't in public interest to sell a heart attack in a bun, even for a limited period".

But despite the health risks that should obviously be associated with unleashing a monster upon the unsuspecting public, the promotion was extended, and the receiving audience widened in Japan. It was initially a small promotion, the first 30 people would pay 8 dollars for their fix each day. But now, the general public can pay 15 dollars for the same thing, and the number of customers is unlimited! So what did I do? I gave in to a friend's requests and cajoling, and joined him in a meaty feast at Sunshine City's Burger King.

He won. He demolished his burger, so that 7 patties later, he had room for half of someone else's Whopper. I left the equivalent of one burger. Disheartened, I retreated to wash my hands of the caked on remains left from my half-hearted attempt to slay a giant.

But is METHOD to do with my loss? Probably not, but I feel like going over it anyway...

I tried to avoid covering my face and arms with grease by splitting the burger in half, top half and bottom. I immediately discovered, to my dismay, that hot grease is quite painful, especially when it dribbles all over your hands. After quickly dropping my burger, my thumbs looked back up at me in reddening pain, telling me not to do it again. So I did it again. I wasn't going to let my thumbs tell me what to do!! This time I devoured the top half with hearty hunger in a relatively quick pace. But consuming the onion rings proved my downfall, as I failed to clear the second half of my titanic quest. Dejected, I could only look on as two other people around me finished their own burgers, chagrin plain on my face, and disdain on theirs.

Windows 7 = 1
Chris = 0

And I'm using a Mac! (albeit with three OS, including W7) Ultimate defeat!

Anyway, I have more to say (I need to catch up!), but I shall leave it here for now.

Next time: Japanese Comedy. Think that's funny? I don't.

Until next time!

Joy!

2009-11-06T01:41:00.002+09:00

There is a certain pleasure to be had in starting a blog entry whilst not having the slightest idea what to write. So I shall begin:

Today, despite having no lectures, I ventured in to University with homework and laptop in tow, in an attempt to pretend to do work whilst socialising with other people. The reality of it was this: I did lots of work, and suffered from a profound lack of social interaction. How disappointing. This was remedied, however, when I dragged myself to my feet and slowly made my way over to a WIF committee meeting, which was a little bit pointless for myself at that time. It was here that we decided to go for ramen, and then to a pub in order to start enjoying life after most of it had been drained by the mindless boredom associated with committee meetings.

Ramen: A cheap substitute for actual food. Comprised of nothing more than a soupy oil (or oily soup?) and noodles, covered in cheap meat and sliced green onion. Yay... It is a shame that when the concept of ramen was invented, they forgot to invent flavour to put in it (or at least in this rendition). Copious amounts of pepper and whatever condiments I had to hand later, I had managed to create a half-decent pepper and pickled ginger noodle dish. Which I then couldn't finish. Then I didn't get the discount offer I thought I was getting, because I had paid MORE to add more meat to my dish. So I had to pay MORE on top of the extra meat. What I rip-off! But when you are only charging small fees for bad food, you have to cheat your money from the customers through other methods. I mean, you don't really get a choice when you go to pay, do you? Unless you kick up a fuss...and what Englishman would do that in a foreign country without feeling bad about it? (Actually, that was a poor question, considering our generation of Spanish holiday-makers and six-children families living solely off of benefits).

It was then that we proceeded to an English-style pub, where we met up with some more friends, already midway through their drinking festa! How great, I thought, to come to an English pub. But there was something wrong with the picture...and I couldn't quite place i...AH YES! I remember! There was cigarette smoke hanging in the air, and Major League Baseball playing on the screens. And as if that wasn't enough, there were the football kits of numerous rival teams hung up on the walls around the pub. This was no English pub! It was a fake!

But then the prices of the drinks brought me crashing back to the illusion of England. E-X-P-E-N-S-I-V-E.

In fact, despite the good atmosphere and the drinks (of which I could afford only one), the most fun I had was on the way back to my dormitory. The talk was...strange, but interesting, though I shan't divulge the details in my blog.

Well, I hope that this entry has had a more personal feel to it. I assure you that I shan't make the same mistake twice, and my dry commentary on everyday life shall return to normal. Or as normal as I can make it...

Tokyo, in all its glory!

2009-11-03T15:27:00.002+09:00

We all know that there are some great cities around the world, with some amazing sights. But with those sights come some just as amazing smells. In the UK, Londoners are proud of their advanced, Victorian sewer system which keeps most smells at bay. That is, they SHOULD be proud, especially if they come to smell the wonderful aromas that pervade the air (and one's nostrils) whilst walking the streets of Tokyo. Somehow, it appears that the sewage system here wasn't designed for 12 million people. Or even 50, for that matter. I constantly confront people with the idea that the city of Tokyo smells like...well, faeces, and the answer I always get is: 'does it?' As if it is something completely new. And the only reason I can come up with is that people either have never smelled their own excrement (which I quickly dismiss), or that people are so used to the streets smelling like the inside of a public toilet, that it is completely ignored.

So, people of the world, I put to you that Tokyo is a smelly city. As are many others. But this is about Tokyo.

Other than this, lectures were cancelled for today. Which is great!... or it would have been if I didn't like my Tuesday lectures... In addition, I still have no idea what it is in aid of, but it doesn't matter. Perhaps it is to mourn the loss of the baseball game between Keio and Waseda. It was a crying shame and a public humiliation! More humiliating than having the Handkerchief Prince on your team. 11-2. Then 6-0. Terrible. The Keio players even took pity on Waseda (between the sneers of derision on their faces).

It is a cold, cold day today. People are finally feeling the onset of winter...in the middle of autumn. Makes me feel happy, then, that I only feel half as cold as I do back in the UK. With the weather remaining cloudless, it is only set to get colder - but it seems to be good weather for drying clothes, so dig into that mountain of dirty clothing you haven't been bothered to wash and get it done while you still can!!!

In other news: Waseda Festival is approaching. It is said to be the biggest university festival in Tokyo (though I imagine most other universities claim this too), so get on over and enjoy the fun, as hundreds of thousands of people squeeze into a small Tokyo community to enjoy looking at the attractive (and some not so...) university students (and their stalls, of course). People of all ages will enjoy the delights on offer, though I can only attest to one of them. WIF (Waseda International Festival) will be putting on their annual international dance performance, showcasing cultures from all over the world. They'll also be doing Soran Bushi (and losing...because EVERYONE knows that westerners can't dance a Japanese dance!), and it is GREAT fun to watch.

It is for this Festival that I managed to get my three seconds of fame! I will appear on screen for a frighteningly short period of time, telling everyone about 'International People'.
--'So what is an international person?'
--'AN INTERNATIONAL PERSON IS ONE WHO UNDERSTANDS LOTS OF CULTURES'
So basically, I had a chance to say anything cool, and I blew it by spouting some crap about culture. WOO! Go me! In hindsight, perhaps I shouldn't have used my real name. Oh well.

Well, I think the boat has sailed on this blog entry. I only hope that you don't look down on me for my cynicism and frankness; you know I'm only joking. No, really.

Until next time.

TWO is a magic number...

2009-10-30T23:17:00.002+09:00

...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...

2009-10-29T03:44:00.002+09:00

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...