Reflections on my Japanese Adventure

Two months after returning home it's time to round up my thoughts on my great Japanese adventure and record them in my 31st and final blog. ... sniff

One reason this blog is so late in coming is that (as we learned after a few months in Japan) is that it's really hard to gain any perspective on anything while in the middle of it. You need time and space to let things settle and organize in your brain, or in mine at least. The other reason is that on top of the craziness of moving and readjusting and catching up, I'm... kinda lazy (stop laughing Carl!). So a belated hello! to everyone I haven't chatted with for a while. We're home and cozily settled back in a routine rut. Which has also given me the time and space needed to reflect on our Japanese adventure and come to the following conclusions...

1) I Don't Need as Much Space (and Stuff) as I Thought

Before leaving for Japan my idea of a dream house was a large, spacious, airy palace with vaulted ceilings and extra rooms. That would still be nice. But after spending 18 months in a space the size of my parents trailer, I find myself gravitating towards smaller, cozier spaces, where I'm surrounded only by the things that are important to me and the ones I love. Luckily, I have that now. And in Calgary's current housing market, that's all I can afford.

2) A Clean, Fast, Affordable, Efficient Public Transit System is a Necessity for Any World-Class City

Yeah Calgary, I'm looking at you. With a third of the population of the greater Osaka area spread out over a larger space, 36 (open-to-the-freezing-elements) subway stops ain't gonna cut it. Luckily, I have my little car back! Which leads me to...

3) Screw Gas Prices. Driving is a Good Thing!

Oh, how I missed my little car! The freedom of going where you want, when you want. Even when it's -40C ... on icy roads ... with blowing snow ...

4) Japanese Winters Are Uncomfortable, Miserable Affairs...

But NOTHING compared to the vicious, killing cold of a prairie winter. I do NOT recommend Japan in the winter, but I really had nothing to whine about last year. Well, except for the damp, bone-chilling, uninsulated apartments. Because...

5) Humidity Sucks

Unless I am on a white sand beach with a fruity, umbrella drink in my hand, high humidity has no use in my life. Calgary's climate may be dry, but at least my hair no longer looks like a frizzy, tangled ball of something the cat coughed up.

6) It Bears Repeating ... Japanese People Are NOT (Very) Repressed

They just care about not offending the many people crowded around them. If you think they're repressed, just watch Japanese TV. You would have to offer large piles of money to get most North Americans to do that stuff. And I've never seen a people so crazy about their comedians. Japanese people are some of the most fun-loving, funny, kind, caring people I've ever met. ... Next to Canadians of course!

7) Karaoke Makes Everything Better

Sing by yourself. Sing with a friend. Sing with someone you don't really like very much. By the end of the song there's a smile on your face, you've laughed, you've cried, you've made a new friend. Or at least found some common ground in your secret love of 80's hair bands. If more people karaoked we would all be one step closer to world peace.


So that's it. All I've learned in 7 easy lessons. No large earth-shattering epiphany's, just a greater appreciation for the world, and the people around me, and a desire to meet more of them on future adventures. Remember to check out our Flickr site. We have all our wedding photos up now as well as all of our Japanese adventure pics. I'll be starting another blog to update everyone on the new adventures of Colleen, but until next time...

Sayonara!

Kids!

For as long as we've been in Japan I've wanted to write a blog about the train system here. How reliable, fast, and efficient it is. But every time I start to write that post it changes into something else. This is another one of those times.

Another point I wanted to mention about the train system is the infamous chikan incidents. As clean and convenient as the train system is, it does have it's dark underbelly of groping incidents. We were warned before coming here that you should always be alert on crowded trains as some people will use the proximity as an excuse to feel you up.

In fact the molestation incidents became such a concern, that 6 months before we arrived Osaka instituted a system where one car is reserved for women only between 5 and 9, am and pm, on weekdays. Tokyo also instituted a similar system. It did serve to bring awareness to the problem and curb groping incidents. It also created an entire sub-system of blackmail and train clubs, but that is another post.

One place where you're not segregated of course is the train platform. And during our first week in Japan I was standing talking to Carl when I suddenly stopped mid-sentence,

"I think someone just grabbed my butt!"

I turned around and looked for the culprit who had reached under my coat for a feel and met the grinning eyes of child walking down the platform with his mother.

"I think that 6 year old just groped me!"

"What do you mean?"

"I think that kid just reached under my coat and rubbed my butt. Look at that shite eating grin!"

"He can't be more than 6. ... Do you want me to go beat him up?"

We decided that there wasn't much we could do get revenge on the extremely pleased with himself child and continued wandering around the then overwhelming malls of Osaka. At the time I would have written about how that child was part of the larger system of objectification of women and how he would have grown up to be part of the reason that a segregated train system had to be created. And that may be true, but now I think the truth is a little bit simpler.

Kids like butts.

Shocking I know. An earth-shattering revelation of epic proportions. But the evidence is overwhelming. The way any fart or half-assed (groan) fart joke can reduce a child (or Carl) to a giggling heap. The preoccupation with bodily functions. But here in Japan that preoccupation is never kept behind closed doors. One of the most popular kids shows is about a child who will moon anyone at any given time. This gives the scant encouragement some kids need to recreate those antics themselves. And of course here in Asia, there is the infamous kancho.

Not that Carl and I ever experienced it as we were some of the very few teachers here not to be trained for kids lessons. But our friends described how they would do it to their teachers when they were in school. It's just so shocking to Western sensibilities on so many levels; the fact that it's commonplace to try to ram your fingers up your teacher's bum. Pages and pages of virtual Internet ink have been spilled on the subject, which I shall not add to, you can look it up yourself.

This obsession with bums doesn't stop in the classroom, as has been demonstrated. It also doesn't stop with people you know. Apart from the train incident I also had to play bum keep-away with a group of strange children at Disneyland. While waiting in line for the Toy Story ride just before the park closed for the night, a group of young children standing behind us, hyped on cotton candy and cola, were suddenly entranced with my ass for some reason. They started jockeying for position to try and get behind me to take turn rubbing my ass as I manoeuvred in front of Carl while trying to stay in line.

As Disneyland closed down for the night around us, the little dramatic chase seemed to concern no one but those involved. The parents were dead on their feet and just seemed happy that the kids were occupied in something non-destructive. Carl was happy to provide cover but seemed unconcerned as they didn't want his foreign hide as a trophy. The kids thought it was great fun and I was left to ponder the complexities of sexual harassment lawsuits against minors. But then my next thought was, it's Japan, this is normal. I just have to stay concerned with covering my own ass. And maybe that was the time I realized it was time to come home. When strange children grabbing your ass is normal, maybe it's time to reconsider what normal is.

Dressing them Up!

When we first heard about Geisha photos, where tourists dress up as Geisha or Maiko (we'll get to that later) and get pictures taken, we thought isn't that a little tacky? cheesy? culturally insensitive?

But when our friends, Chiaki and Sanae, asked us if we wanted to do it and assured us that it wasn't being insulting, and in fact that they wanted to do it with us, we said sure, let's try.

Our original reason to go to Kyoto that day was to see the "Daimonji" fire on the mountain festival. A one day event where they light large kanji characters in fire on the moutains surrounding the city. Sounds fun. And there were (and are) a lot of sights in Kyoto we hadn't seen yet, so we decided to go sightseeing as well. But we decided to start our day by going to one of many photography studios scattered around Kyoto. These places speciaize in Geisha photos. You can choose to dress as a Geisha, a Maiko (the more colorful Geisha in training, usually under 20 years of age) or in some cases a Samurai. Guess which one Carl chose. The girls and I chose to dress as Maikos (no age cracks from the peanut gallery) (PS, speaking of age, my birthday is only a couple of weeks after I return home...).

You can also add options to the studio photography package, such as rickshaw rides, or wandering outside in costume (no eating and drinking in costume please) and group photos. We added the 'walk in historic Kyoto dressed as a Maiko option,' never imagining what that would entail...

We got to the studio around 11 am, and the tempurature was already in the low 30s. We were hot and sweaty from the short walk to the studio. Inside the elegant, and crowded, air conditioned studio the girls and I were whisked into a locker room and given tabi (like mitten socks), cotton shifts and a bucket for any personal goods we wanted to keep with us through the experience. As I stripped in the change room, I found myself contemplating just how uncomfortably often I've been undressed in front of others in this country. You'd think I would learn to shave my legs more often.

Once changed we walked up 2 flights of narrow stairs to the make-up studio. With our hair safely in a net they started to literally paint on the make-up. The heavy white liquid base went on with a wide paintbrush on the face and down the neck and back, and was then powdered and patted into our skin, followed by a light pink glaze on the cheeks. They then put a red base on under areas that would be black later, like the eyebrows and lining the eyes. Heavy liquid liner and red stain painted on the lips and we were done! Now downstairs to choose a kimono.

The kimonos were all so pretty, I really couldn't choose one I liked best. We decided on a traditional design for me and some really lovely designs for the girls. Then into the next room where we stood in front of a mirror and let our dresser swaddle us in clothes. First came the 2 two towels around the waist and the underarm and neck padding. The some light bondage around the chest and hips. They kept warning us to brace ourselves, as it was going to be tight. Fairly soon I couldn't take a full breath and found that I had to take mincing little steps to walk anywhere. It was like a corset that started at the breasts and went down to the hips. Then the underskirt went on and then the kimono. Finally we chose an obi (waist sash) which was bound tightly on top of the other binding and added a bustle to the back. After that the wig went on and the transformation was complete. I felt like a pretty, pretty princess. A very pale, strange Asian-Caucasian princess.



Now you may be wondering what Carl was doing all this time. They didn't have a men's dressing room, just a lonely washroom on the second floor for him. As we were choosing kimonos we were also peaking into the dressing room to giggle at Carl in his tight cotton undergarment as they dressed him in his samurai (or as he said, Jedi) robes. No make-up or wig for him. And he claimed his robes were extremely roomy and comfortable. Nope, I'm not jealous. As we were getting changed he was in the studio striking poses.



Soon we joined him in the studio and were quickly run through a set of poses. This place was working like a well-oiled machine, clients moving quickly through each room the entire time we were there. Then we threw a small wrench in the works by asking for a group photo. But it was worth it. You'd never know Carl's ankle was killing him by the look on his face, would you? Wait...what is that look on his face?



Then it was time for the outdoor portion of the show. We were given a map attached to tiny purses and geta (raised wooden sandals) and ushered outside. If I could barely walk in the kimono before the geta made it official. The sandals are raised in the middle but slope at the front, constantly threatening to pitch you forward onto your face. Sanae's husband was waiting outside for us, and with him and our blond samurai as an escort we walked into the streets of Kyoto.



We instantly stopped traffic. EVERYONE stopped to turn and stare. Wailing children stopped crying, grandfathers dropped their canes, people's jaws dropped, and then everyone reached for their cameras.

Tourists asked if we would pose with them, grandmothers stopped us to say "You are so beautiful" or whisper "kirei" (beautiful) as we passed. If we stopped to take our own photos there were half a dozen people behind our photographers angling for pictures. We felt like rock stars. Hot, sweaty rock stars.

Maybe wandering historic Kyoto in several layers of clothing on a sweltering summer day wasn't the best idea. Soon our wigs began to dig in to our scalps as the sweat beaded on our make-up. We were allowed to wander for an hour but we came back after 40 minutes. I think that it was worth it though. I've been stared at on the streets in make-up and costume before, but nothing could have prepared me for that.

We quickly ran through the process in reverse and then huddled in front of sinks in the change room to remove the make-up. Baby oil, tissue, repeat, baby oil tissue repeat, for half an hour. We formed a little chain to do each others backs. (No, we didn't take any pictures of that part, stop asking.) And finally returned to our normal selves. We collected our photos from the desk and returned to Kyoto, no longer rock stars.

The rest of the day was wonderful too. We saw some fabulous shrines and temples and then shouldered our way through the thronging streets to see huge fire kanji characters and boats and torii appear on the mountains of Kyoto. We declined climbing said mountains in the dark to get a better view and settled for walking the well-lit but very crowded streets.

To see the pictures from this fun and fabulous day click here.

It's too Darn Hot!

How hot is it?

Ah yes, the end if rainy season and the start of ... hot season? No more rain clouds, just pale blue sky and the boiling hot sun. It won't drop below 25 for the rest of the time we're here, even at night. So in honor of these hot summer nights here's a list of hot jokes.

How hot is it?

- It's so hot you could boil ice cream

- It's so hot the cicadas and cockroaches are asking me to turn up the A/C

- It's so hot that when I went outside for a lunch break my shadow stayed
inside

- It's so hot that dinner's cooked by the time you walk home from the
grocery store

- It's so hot that walking on burning coals seems like that a nice way to cool
off

- It's so hot I declined an outdoor happy hour

- It's so hot your butt sweat has butt sweat

- It's so hot that sweat rags are a common fashion accessory

- It's so hot that contact solution is warm coming out of the bottle

- It's so hot that the tap water in the pipes is warm. A cold shower
actually feels kind of warm.

Wait those last three are true. This isn't funny anymore. It's hot.

Cicadas

Now that school is out, you often see kids wandering around in the mornings looking up into the trees carrying butterfly nets larger than themselves. Ahhh, isn't that cute! And they're catching ... really large ugly insects. Not quite so cute. And ... OH MY G... WHY is it SCREAMING!



Oh, it's a cicada, of course it screams. Before I came to Japan my ideas about cicadas were limited to Southern, Gone With the Wind style book passages, where people were gently lulled to sleep by the song of the cicadas. I imagined they were similar to grasshoppers. How wrong I was.

Cicadas are very large, very ugly flying beetle type insects that tend to fly straight at you instead of away from you if you're in their flight vector. They start calling as soon as the sun rises and stop as the temperature rises around noon. They would be better than an alarm clock if that wasn't generally when I'm trying to GET to sleep. When I first heard them 'singing' I thought it was some weird type of motorcycle engine revving. Why would I think it was a cicada? I mean these things are supposed to sing. SING dammit! Not sound like some strange alien hybrid helicopter and bandsaw.

One is loud enough to be painful at close range. (It's true! I looked it up and everything.) Imagine what hordes of them sound like, massed in every inch of greenery along the street. You can't hear yourself think. And of course they make great playthings for the kids. However when you disturb them they stop 'singing' and start screaming. A loud, angry, cranky scream. They sound crankier than me waking up too early.

One thing I never thought I'd look forward to when getting home was the insects. Alberta, where the prairies are vast and the insects are ... quiet.

Sapporo

In my lessons if a student mentions being from or visiting another part of Japan, someone is sure to ask,

"Do you like ... (whatever food is famous for that region)? or "Have you tried ... (this food from that area)?"

Every region has a famous food or dish. If you mention Sapporo the question sounds like,

"Have you tried Sapporo beer or milk or corn or potatos or melons or chocolate or honey or ramen ...?"

Food, while worshipped in other parts of Japan, is everywhere is Sapporo. It's the only place large enough to have big dairy or wheat farms. For our last jaunt outside of Osaka we went to Sapporo, home of fresh produce and many natures (I think I've been in Japan too long).

More anxious to escape the muggy summer than anything else we boarded a tiny plane for a short flight to Hokkaido Chitose airport. The flight was strangely memorable as we were each given a window seat at opposite ends of the same aisle. In between us were 2 families with adorable, but cranky babies. The one little girl found the perfect note to make the inside of the plane resonate as she put all of her suprisingly powerful little lungs behind her screams. As I sat and felt the walls of the plane shift I thought that strangely this was one of the more comfortable flights I'd been on. Maybe it was a portent of things to come. We stepped off the plane and looked up into the cloudy grey sky when Carl stopped.

"Do you feel that?"

"What? The wind?"

"Yes! No humidity!"

I think I'm gonna like it here.

We settled into our very nice business hotel, where they sold giant melons in the gift shop (definitely a step up from the JGH Tokyo) and went for a walk in the park. After buying some roasted Hokkaido corn and potatoes from the park vendors we went to the highest point in Sapporo, the JR Tower, to get the lay of the land. We went from there to yet another Ferris wheel (I'm so predictable), before going in search of Ramen Alley.

Did you know that Sapporo is the home of ramen. This Chinese dish was first named and served in it's current form in Japan's north. And barely a block from our hotel was a narrow alley crammed with nothing but ramen shops. We found a welcoming spot and had some truly delicious and filling food before finally heading to bed. We had a big day ahead of us and we needed our beauty sleep.

We started the next day bright and early by going to a Sake Museum. It was only one small room, but there was lots to see. As we walked up to the museum we noticed a line of people waiting to fill containers from a tap running from the building. We soon discovered that that's because the brewery sits on top of a spring that they use to make their sake. Of course they only use the freshest water, so everyone wants a gallon or two to use at home. We had a cup full of water from the fountain inside the door and watched as the group of ladies that had gotten there right before us made a beeline for the sample counter. I think that would be fun way to spend the day with your girlfriends, get up in the morning and get blitzed on free sake samples. Carl and I ate our sake ice cream, which was truly delicious and discovered the different grades of sake. We *only* bought a couple bottles as we decided there were only so many souvenirs we could carry and our day was just beginning.

As we wandered Sapporo we kept marveling how the neighbourhoods felt like home. All the buildings laid out on a grid with lots of space around them, it kind felt like wandering through some lots in Calgary. We were only a little homesick. *sniff*

Next up, The Factory, a large shopping centre that contains among other things, a Toys R Us and a large indoor park. After that it was a short walk to the Sapporo Beer Museum. BEER! As Carl would say. We followed the beer with more beer and roasted lamb cooked Gengis Khan style, another Hokkaido specialty.

On our last day we had a little bit of time before our plane left so we decided to go the Chocolate Museum (sensing a theme yet?). A large building designed to look like a large Tudor mansion, you could smell it before you saw it. Inside were stained glass windows and holographs and lots of toys and creepy dolls. We sat and had some chocolate and watched kids play in the large rose garden outside before deciding to leave for the airport.

The comedy of errors that followed is hard to comprehend. The Chocolate Museum was an hour and a half from the airport and our plane left in less than 2 hours. That wouldn't have been so bad except that we were out of money and couldn't find an ATM to buy train tickets with. As we raced through the train station we finally decided to go to the train office to buy tickets on credit. We barreled through the ticket wickets looking for our platform and racing to the one that said airport express. Except, it was the wrong airport. After realizing our mistake we raced to the right platform and discovered that the train that takes an hour to get to the airport didn't leave until one hour before our plane left. We sat on the train and made plans for how we would get home. Would we buy another ticket or take the overnight train? To add insult to injury, the train even seemed to be running late. But somehow the train pulled in 15 minutes before the flight left. I raced through the airport trusting Carl and his still wonky ankle to keep up. The ticket clerk had a lot of phone calls to make but somehow we made it through security just as our flight was boarding. We even got a row to ourselves for the flight home.

As we stepped off the plane in Osaka it was like being hit by a heavy, hot, wet blanket. Ah, yes, humidity my old friend, how I had not missed you.

However the humidity has been a little easier to bear now that we've bought our return tickets home. That's right, we're saying Sayonara to Japan. So if anyone out there knows of anyone who's hiring in October, we'd love to hear from you. See you in September!

Music

The nearby elementary school has changed its morning welcome song to 'Sleigh Ride.' It's 30 degrees in June and all I have running through my brain is,

"Outside the snow is falling and friends are calling you-hoo!"

I think I may be going crazy.

Does anyone actually call 'you-hoo' anymore? Did anyone ever really call 'you-hoo' outside of a song or a sitcom?

Yep, I am crazy. But many of you already knew that.

Also, in other music news, my new favourite web site:
www.pandora.com

How's the weather today?

So I may have been a bit overzealous in my estimation of the amount of rain we were going to get. Already there have been brief hours of beautiful blue sky. But the heat is always lurking. Sucking up the moisture into the sky to release it onto us again. So that when it rains it feels inevitable. Like it's always been.

Everything feels wet. Like it will never be dry again. But still you hang your towels out to dry, offering them to the cloudy sky. Bringing them in the next day not damp, but not dry either.

You urge to shower is constant, even though the feeling of wet is everywhere. Your sweat clings to your skin like magnets, and it feels like it draws other water towards you, like a reverse shower of some kind. Sometimes it feels like you're in a bath on the street. That somehow everyone should be naked because we're living and walking in one giant onsen. Luckily, that is not the case.

Everything smells wet. Not moldy, wet. Like stepping out after a rainstorm when the world feels fresh and you think ahh, yes. Spring, clean. And really that's what it smells like. Nothing is covered with the same layer of dirt and pollution. Everything smells like itself again. The water just helped you find that.

So obviously not everything about rainy season is bad. Despite perpetually wet feet, I much prefer it to the rest of summer. Well, except for festival season, which I hope to enjoy more of this year. Yukatas and fireworks and 4 am ice cream runs. Something to dream of when you're trapped on a train in a suit.

Wet, wet, wet

"Which color umbrella do you want?"

"Why, is it raining?"

"Rainy season started today."

"Just because it's rainy season doesn't mean it's raining."

"..."

"Black umbrella, please."

Rainy season was supposed to start today and at 6am the heavens did indeed open and begin to drip. And will continue to do so for the next 2-4 weeks. I love the fact that even the weather runs on schedule here. I hate the fact that rainy season is part of the schedule. I predict 2 weeks of steady rain and 2 more weeks of intermittent rain. Then the real heat begins. Oy. Only 3 more months of running this weather gauntlet. Then we're home to struggle through the Canadian winter.

In other news we experienced our first earthquake. Very minor. If you weren't awake at 5am, like we were, you wouldn't have even known it happened. Even if you were awake you might not have noticed it. Just a slow gentle swaying of the buildings.

Also we just spent some money on a cool camcorder. Very nifty. However looking at the receipt makes me feel a little bit sick. But maybe we'll be adding movies to our picture site soon. Check out our updated photos with pics from Koyasan and karaoke, stories to follow soon.

Food Fights

Gah! I've finally done it. I've voluntarily added cornflakes to my salad. Granted it was poor quality fruit salad that needed a little extra something. And they were chocolate cornflakes (don't judge me!!), but I've finally joined the food insanity.

But I REFUSE to eat risotto pizza...yikes!

TV

Back in Osaka life continues as normal as it can be in the Bishop household. Today I was going to write about bums, I really was. And I don't mean those cute little homeless people, I mean honest to goodness rear-ends. Even though the subject has been written about numerous times it really is a topic that cannot be easily exhausted here. However, today I have to mention Japanese TV. Again a subject that has been written about numerous times but as I write today I'm watching NHK, Japan's public television channel. Apart from the interesting subscription payment plan, (They don't send you a bill in the mail, they send a person door to door collecting cash instead. This is because while it is said to be mandatory there is no enforcement for non-payment. In fact there have been many article written about how to dodge the NHK man. Strangely, we've never been home when they've called asking for the $600 fee. (We can never avoid the Jehova's Witnesses though, dang Jovies.)), and apart from the scandals over said payment plan (apart from the obvious logistical and logical conundrums, several NHK executives have been convicted of fraud and embezzlement), NHK is a great channel. It's specialty seems to be educational TV for young and old alike. There are interesting exercise shows, great dubbed news programs for us foreigners and lots and lots of language shows. In the evening many people sit down to learn English, Chinese, German, French, Italian and Spanish. In the afternoon they even have a Japanese program for the more conversationally challenged among us.

I have to say I love the other "how-to" shows the most. How to play (insert instrument of your choice here), how to take pictures, how to wear a kimono, and my favorite, how to swim. I'm still trying to figure out how to practice at home while watching TV, but watching the lower level rheumy businessman student struggling to stay afloat is a lesson in perseverance if nothing else.

Not that I've been watching TV. We've both been working too much to do much of anything lately. But the perfect accompaniment for the English lessons has finally been released, and we bought copies the other day. That's right! CD's for the young English learner in your life, complete with chants and songs performed by yours truly. And some guy named Matt. They didn't have auditions for the male part, so Carl isn't on them. If you want I can send you a copy of these strangely catchy tunes. But NHK doesn't have a "how to sing" show so there's no quality guarantee.

Tokyo!

Many days in the Bishop world, life is like a musical. Some days it's "The Sound of Music," some days it's "Les Miserables." And on our arrival to Tokyo on March 31st we met our very own 'Master of the House.'

Meet Max. Max is the proprietor of the JGH Hotel. Sounds nice doesn't it? A new hotel situated minutes from Tokyo's central attractions managed by a sweet couple of Tokyoites(?)who want to share their love of their city with the world. A double room with private bath, breakfast included, for only $44 a night. It was the price that should have tipped me off. No matter how glowing the reviews, you always get what you pay for...

On our eagerly anticipated first trip to Tokyo we took the Shinkansen into the heart of the big city. All shining steel and glittering glass on a bright blue spring morning, Tokyo took our breath away. It felt like the opening scene to "Wonderful Town" or "Guys and Dolls." But then I hadn't slept since before work the night before so maybe I was a little giddy.

We just as quickly left the city center to head out to Nishi-Kawaguchi and our hotel. We followed the directions to the out of the way house, set off of the street in a run-down residential neighbourhood. I was expecting something homey and hostel-ish so when Max answered the door looking like a short Japanese version of Elvis, the late Hawaii years, I was more amused than alarmed. But Carl's spidey sense started tingling. Streaming cigarette smoke, he took us to the tiny kitchen to sign-in. Max offered us sake, which Carl had to reach for over my head to get. We kampai'd our cups and poured another. Max said I was a good drinker. I'm not sure if that was a compliment.

After leafing through many handwritten notebooks he found our reservation and expressed extreme surprise that we were married. He had us sign a waiver that included a clause that guests indulge in no destructive or untoward behaviour...including sex. They really didn't get too many married couples through there. He took a refundable deposit for linen and cleaning and explained that as a small establishment, they charged a little extra for extras, like extra for the towels and for phone calls, internet, and 350 yen per bath (not showers, thankfully). Huh, OK, that wasn't on the website. But hey, we get our own room with a private bathroom, so that shouldn't be a problem right? We paid for the room up front and then he showed us to our room, by unlocking the bicycle lock on the sliding door right behind us in the tiny kitchen. This is when my eyes popped as Carl's jaw gaped. Homemade bunk beds with not enough room around them to put down our suitcase or stand up and get changed. A homemade dividing wall that divided the already tiny Japanese room in two. And next door wasn't the bath, it was the room of (during the week we were there) British frat boys, a Mormon family, and German backpackers. We know this because we could hear every word they said, just like they could hear every breath we took.

We took one look at the tiny room, and despite our travel weariness, dropped our bags and headed right back out on the road. We went to the Tokyo Bay area and wandered around, trying to sort out our options among the bright lights and technological marvels below the glowing ferris wheel. We resolved to only use the 'hotel' to sleep, and to spend as much time as possible out enjoying Tokyo. So despite the fact that our futons were as thick as paper and the uneaten breakfasts were often reused the next morning, and that on our way back each night we were hassled by pimps and prostitutes (the first I've seen in Japan) to go into the strip joints and other clubs that lined the walk back, and despite the fact that we were also hassled by cops on the one day it was pouring rain and my chest cold was at its worst, we had a pretty amazing Tokyo adventure.

Highlights include the Tsukiji Fish Market, Meiji Shrine, Asakasuka Temple, Tokyo Disneyland and Tokyo DisneySea, Harajuku, Roppongi, Shibuya, the Metropolitan Government Towers, Tokyo Bay, Ginza, the Beer Museum and hanging with Joe and big glasses of beer on Carl's 32nd birthday.

Coming sometime...butts and breasts and Costco. Stay tuned

Superpowered Random Adventures

Just a few more short and sweet comments on life in Japan....

I recently discovered that one of my superpowers is the ability to stop trains. In Japan, trains rarely stop, as punctuality is valued above all else. So it takes something truly unique to get a train to stop. However, if a silly , out of shape foreigner shoves an umbrella in the door in order to join her husband, who can run up stairs a might faster than her, the train will stop. The train doors here aren't incredibly sensitive and something like an umbrella won't cause the doors to pop open. You have to stop the train to open the doors to get the umbrella out and the silly foreigner on. Highly embarrassing, but also very interesting.

I also recently spiffed up my superhero look with a new haircut. I went to a new salon where there is some English spoken. My hair looked fine when I'd gotten it cut previously but it was starting to get out of control and I didn't know the Japanese words for 'thin' or 'layer' and the conversation required to go with it was waaaay out of my league.

Men's haircuts here are a unique ritual that you should really ask Carl about. Women's salons aren't so different from home, but there are a few big differences. First, they cover your face when you get your hair washed. Nothing personal, it's just to protect your make-up. Also they comb your hair out after washing it, which combined with the light conditioner used here can cause some massive tangles or giant frizz if you have curly or wavy hair. Often when getting your hair dried or styled there will be 2 people working on your hair. 2 or more people circling you with blowdryers or combs or straighteners to give your hair all the TLC it needs. You could start to feel like a celebrity with all that attention going to your head (hee...sorry, I can't resist bad puns!) However even with all that attention, it took me 2 hours to get my hair washed and cut. Am I just special or a pain in the neck?

Also quick head and shoulder massages are often included in your haircut. Not a lot different from home, but the massage technique is probably very unique. It started with some quick squeezes and pressure point holding, OK, nothing out of the ordinary here. But when she held both hands together and started slamming them onto my shoulders and head with loud clapping noises I started to wonder if I was more tense than I realized. I was literally beaten about the head and neck. All in the name of good customer service. And after some asking around I discovered this was a standard practice at many salons.

Anyway, after all is said and done I have a lovely haircut to take with me Tokyo. Yes, that's right, our next adventure will be all about the wonders of the nation's capital. Also, all about the two most revered days on the calendar, April Fools and Carl's Birthday. Funny how they fall so close together.

We also have lots more pictures uploaded, including a new section of Japanese flower arrangements called ikebana. Stay tuned...

Months of Random Adventure!

I have done something that I thought I would never do again. And then I did it twice.

I went skating! Of all the places for a Canadian to go skating (for the first time in 10 years) Japan is not at the top of the list. But that is just what I did, and then a week later, I did it again. I honestly thought I would never go skating again as I had a tendency to break things whenever I went rollerskating as a child. But when adventure calls you must answer.

The first time we went it was in celebration of Genny's birthday. She's the redheaded New Yorker who is part of Carl's new improv group. And she loves skating. She found a skating rink inside of a cheesy, poorly spell-checked, yet fun, amusement park just outside of Osaka. We went with Curtis, another member of Carl's group (who was last seen in "North Country" calling Charlize Theron a very bad word), and his family, including two fun but exhausting boys, as well as other miscellaneous friends, some of whom didn't even know the birthday girl. The rink was small and crowded but it did have a Zamboni machine! I soon found my ice legs, much to my surprise. And I didn't even fall once! (Honestly, this is an amazing achievement! Ask my parents.)

Carl, the former figure skater, also took a while to find his balance, but by the time we left he was doing some spins to entertain us.

The next time we went was with Carl and his two fun but exhausting private students and their parents. Carl had mentioned our first little adventure and the fact that he used to teach skating and soon had volunteered himself to teach Ryo and Kento how to skate. Another fun day was had by all, but doing laps while trying to hold a 5 year old upright is a little more difficult than just being proud of your ability to keep yourself upright.

Skating was one of the most memorable things we've done this month, but other recent adventures, in chronological order, included my first Chinese New Year's dinner. We ate noodles for long life and fish for luck and I got to meet some of the great people Carl works with, including Stephanie, the organizer. She's from Toronto and a total blast to hang out with. And apparently her sister has a major role in the new Star Wars series. (Not important, just another random tidbit.)

After celebrating the Chinese New Year we welcomed spring in with a Japanese ritual called Setsubun. To start spring right in Japan you must cleanse your house of bad luck and welcome in good luck, a metaphysical spring cleaning. You do this by throwing beans out all of your doors to drive out the demons, while shouting, "Oni wa soto" (Get out devil (you probably shouldn't say this to departing house guests - Carl)). Then you welcome in good luck by throwing beans into your house while shouting, "Huku wa uchi" (In with good fortune). Then you must eat an entire maki roll in silence while facing the correct direction. It's not the most important holiday on the Japanese calendar, but it can't hurt to try. So I threw dried soybeans at Ca...the demon (kidding!). We ate maki rolls and then we vacuumed up the beans inside the house. At the very least it's a good incentive to clean.

We also visited Himeji castle, one of the few surviving (not reconstructed) feudal era castles in Japan. It's also one of the most beautiful. It's white walls are compared to egrets' wings rising above the city. It's also huge and right next to a large, lovely garden complex. However, I do recommend visiting in the spring if you're going to go. They didn't have central heating in feudal times. Actually they don't have central heating in modern Japan either, come to think of it.

We also got to visit with Joe for another long weekend. We went with Sanae and Chiaki to a huge amusement complex and participated in 2 of the most popular pastimes in Japan, UFO catching and pri-cla photos. UFO catchers are also known as claw machines at home and pri-cla photos are photo booth photos decorated with some computer graphic help. You can find both types of machines anywhere there's an arcade. Sometimes entire arcades contain just these 2 kind of machines. At any rate, a good time was had by all. However, these photos are a little harder to share with you as they are printed on tiny stickers, so you'll just have to use your imagination.

Questions, comments, concerns? I'm always available at colleen.bishop@gmail.com

Your Mother was Right, Always Wear Clean Underwear...

...and shave, you never know when you're going to end up in a foreign hospital in the middle of the night.

Now before we go any further, everyone's alright. There is a happy ending to this story. However, let's just say I was inspired to talk about the difference between the Japanese and Canadian health care system due to a recent experience.

On a cold and damp December night in Osaka, Carl and I were settled down to an evening of junk food and B-movies. We were watching Open Water, a low-budget film that sort of reminded us of our honeymoon and each other, without the fighting and the terrifying stranding in the middle of the shark-infested ocean. At one point, I commented, "Hmmm...where'd this earache come from. I think I'm getting an ear infection." Ten minutes later, I thought, my throat is kind of scratchy. Ten minutes after that I casually commented, "My throat is closing up kind of fast."

Now by this point it was early morning and we were well immersed in the tragic tale of love and loss on the screen. Carl was suddenly finding it hard to focus and we were starting to brainstorm solutions to this kinda scary situation. There was no need to panic, I wasn't having trouble breathing, but my throat was swelling at a steadily alarming rate. We didn't want to call an ambulance, like I said there was no need to panic, but we did think I should see a doctor sooner rather than later. We started making phone calls; to work (the only night no one's there), our health insurance office (apparently 24 hours in Tokyo is less than 24 hours in Osaka), even the Canadian consulate (the numbers cannot be reached by cell phone and we don't have a land line). So we started walking. There had to be someone close by we could talk to. Down the block to the nearby retirement home, they couldn't help me, (I'm not that old yet!) but they did give us another number to call that went nowhere. Sigh. Down another block to another hospital, they were closed with no hours posted. Double sigh.

At this point, I should tell you that Japan does have a national health plan but private healthcare facilities (the hospital we ended up at is owned by the power company). I think this might have been affecting our ability to find open doors. As it was we went back home at 2:30am to reconsider our options. We finally decided to head the other direction to the nearby police box. We knew they were open. After all, if the police couldn't help us, who could?

We walked into the tiny smoke-filled room and told them that my throat was tight and I needed a doctor (in broken Japanese with lots of pointing of course). They got some information from me and started making calls. This was when I started learning Japanese swear words. As the policeman made phone call after phone call, and then pulled out the phone book and kept making phone calls, more and more of them ended with the phone slamming and the word "Baka!" spat out in disgust. That means idiot for all of you wanting to use that at home. This went on for over 30 minutes. Sometimes a few questions were asked before the phone was slammed. But as I was not dying, did not speak Japanese and am not a child my options remained limited. Finally the police gave up and called the ambulance, that's 1-1-9 here for anyone interested.

As I hovered somewhere between exhaustion and screaming frustration the ambulance came. At a leisurely pace the nonchalant attendants loaded me into the back of the bus, after I'd removed my shoes of course. Then they hooked me up to some equipment, took the temperature of my armpit, asked me more questions, but didn't really listen to the answers, and finally decided on a place to take me. The only time I managed to peak their interest was when my heart monitor started going wonky. Having a benign heart murmur can be fun at times. They were exceedingly casual as I obviously wasn't an emergency and, being free, ambulances get abused a lot. Sometimes people use them as a free taxi service to visit friends at the hospital.

We got to the hospital and walked into a dark and deserted waiting room. We went to a hospital without an emergency room, but with a night shift doctor who spoke English. As I sat down in the exam room they took the temperature of my armpit again with a thermometer that had seen better days, and then pulled out the tongue depressor to look at my throat. He also pulled out a small yellow camping flashlight. I thought he was going to start telling ghost stories for a minute but he used it to look down my almost fully closed throat. When I started choking on the tongue depressor he told me to relax, and if I could have talked I might have said something about getting a better light so he could ... nevermind.

He then told me that he was a GP, there was nothing he could do, I had to wait for a throat specialist. Then he gave me one Benydryl. At this point I should mention that most doctors in Japan are specialists and if you have a problem you go to the doctor with that specialty, not your neighbourhood GP. And of course the specialists didn't arrive until 8am. Sigh.

By this time it was 6:00am and I'm thinking, I could have, I SHOULD have, just stayed home. I have way better drugs there and a much more comfortable couch to wait on. But we had come this far. And we didn't even know where here was, or how far we were from home. So we waited in the plastic chairs in the deserted waiting room and watched insomniac patients make their rounds of the hospital. When I tried to speak, I choked and sounded like Marlee Maitlin. Carl was alternating between uncomfortable snoozing positions and worrying over me. What were we doing here?

After a while some older women walked in and sat down, obviously waiting for the hospital to open. We had been told to wait until the front desk opened at 8. But at 7:30 there was a sudden line-up in front of two machines that spit out little bits of paper. But we waited like good little patients until just before 8 when one of the attendants gave us a little bit of paper and told us to go upstairs at 8. We weren't sure how this would conflict with our earlier instructions but at 8 someone came downstairs and called us upstairs, so we went.

I quickly got in to see the doctor. He also spoke English and asked all the usual questions. Then he gave some nasal spray and held up a machine and said "I have to look at your deep throat." I opened my mouth obediently (OK, you reading this blog - the one in the corner. Yeah you. Go wash your brain out with soap right now! You know who you are!). But he shook his head, the tube was going down my nose. He then told me that my throat was almost completely closed and that I had acute laryngitis. Huh. So that's what it's called when choke on your own throat tissue. At least that's what I might have said if I could have talked. My vocal abilities were nil at this point.

Things started to move fairly fast then. I was admitted to the hospital and given a private room and an IV. I was whisked around the hospital by a lovely nurse with no English, but who was clinging bravely to a medical book with English subtitles, as I went from exam room to exam room. I was grateful that I'd just shaved my legs as I went from x-ray to EKG to blood test and back again trying to undress and dress around my IV bag. Why did I need x-rays and an EKG for a throat infection? Who knows, I couldn't ask. Finally they told me that they wanted to keep me overnight, possibly for many days while I got better. By this time the meds in my IV had kicked in and I could croak in the voice of a tracheotomy patient, "Days?" I could stay for one night, Carl had already called in sick for me, but days? For laryngitis? I resolved to fight this injustice - later. After I'd slept. Carl and I had been up since before work the previous day, and Carl still had to work that night. It was just past noon. I sent Carl home to get some sleep. We got some giggles from the nurses when we kissed goodbye, then I went back to my room.

I promptly faded in and out of consciousness from a combination of exhaustion and the fun antibiotics and anti-histamines that were pumping into me. I was interrupted by lunch, a doctor wanting to practice English, my doctor, the administrator of the hospital (I was only the third foreign overnight patient that the hospital had ever had, kind of a celebrity) and the nurses every now and then. Carl came back after visiting hours to give me a much welcome change of clothes and pajamas and other overnight essentials. I later learned that chopsticks would have been a good idea as patients have to bring their own utensils to eat with. Luckily there was a small stock of plastic utensils for me to use.

One good night's sleep later and I was myself again. Using my newly returned, but just as unable to communicate voice, I slowly laboured over the answers to the same questions. Yes, I feel fine. No, my throat doesn't hurt. Yes, I understand you but I don't know how to make you understand that I understand you. After I convinced my doctor there was no need to keep a healthy patient in the hospital (there was also no need to keep a laryngitis patient in the hospital, but private hospitals have to make money somehow) I received my walking papers. Well, they brought me a week worth of meds and stuck that tube down my nose again, and then they sent me to the front desk to be billed. Yikes! Maybe I should have stayed in the hospital. Wait, then the bill would have been higher. Ignore my circular illogic.

We're on travel insurance. If we were on the national health plan, all of this would have been covered, with maybe a small co-pay on the drugs. However, with our work-sponsored travel insurance we had to pay upfront. Luckily we'd gotten paid the night before or I might have had to work in the hospital kitchen to get out. Over 2 weeks salary, gone.

Again, there is a happy ending. We were fully reimbursed from our insurance company two weeks later. Everyone had a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year and I can still speak and sing. Speaking of which I have recently done so in a recording studio, for a 'soon to be for sale across Japan' CD ... but that's for another blog.