A lifestyle change could be on the cards
I woke up feeling - not so bad. I then progressed through feeling slightly dehydrated, had the squits and then my cold-linked-sinus-pain mated with my alcohol intake to beget a pain beyond even stubbed-toe or papercut.
This is being written inbetween bouts of shaking in bed and pacing round the house, head in hands.
My one consolation, small though it is, can be summed up in the words of an old friend from school; "bad though it may be, at least it hasnn't progressed to the yellow palsy." How right he was, and is. How i hope he will never be right again.
If anyone needs a nominated driver, give me a shout.
Let no man say japan has a paucity of toilets
I had a pleasant little number in this little number a few weeks back. Overall, this one rated quite highly, an eight out of ten for appearance.
As you can see, the basin is a hand-made earthernware afaire with nice asymetrical glaze / lack thereof. It was set into a green marble top with a tastefully understated faucet. It was almost a shame to use it, so I didn't contenting myself with a quick wipe on the back of the trousers.
The urinals were a delightful combination of modern and classical themes, standing alone and away from the wall. Closer inspection showed that all but a few of the most powerful had managed to miss without hitting the wall, so I think we can conclude that the technique was a success.
Cautionary note
As you can see from the photo, this toilet has a high "loiter" or "loom" quotient. This combined with the usual shyness associated with the act might dissuade some of our less confident micturators.
A quick glimpse into the cucbilcle was not wasted. A sharp eye will see that the cistern has not only been covered in clingfilm but also taped in place. At first, this was clear to me - the clingfilm was there to stop powders being snorted off it, and the tape to stop enraged drug-fiends from smashing it to pieces out of revenge.Judging by the standard of the establishment I was forced to discard this theory, however appealing it might be. It must have some deeper, more arcane purpose. Answers on a postcard, please.
The last item of note was this charming ceramic piece - I couldn't be fucked translating this in the insipient gloom, so I don't know what it was. However, I would like to believe that it was a recommended code of conduct to guide the user through the joys and woes of using this toilet. I imagine techniques for getting the majority of the liquid into the urinal featured here, with some more about techniques for getting stools to water level without spoiling hte cleanliness of the bowl.
Danger Zone 2 - An ancient foe awakens
Luckily, it is always a few days before we meet after the beginning term giving me some time to ready myself and take on some of the mental toughness needed to deal with this awkward bugger.
Kyuu shoku is Japanese for school lunch - best summed-up by by a slight slight verbal mangling to Q shock.
I ma not a huge fan of japanese food anyway and as I am sure you can imagine, this is just the benchmark from which the school lunch can be considered worse.
Starting top left and working round clockwise we have; a small pack of milk (ok), a bowl of rice (same calories as a pint of diesel), miso soup (containing, but not lilited to, tofu, carrot, onion, bits, pieces of stuff, random slices of meat and a shitload of salt), lumps of fish with the skin left on (two pieces, as I am on good terms with the dinner lady) and the
piece de resistance, emphasis on resistence. This piece of resistence was made from cabbage, carrot, broccoli and spinach. Boiled in a fucking huge cauldron and in a filthy dungeon by somebody utterly devoid of taste-buds, olfactory prowess or even the sensation of touch in their mouth. Let me tell you, that while cabbage, carrots and whatever else they managed to dredge out of the fields maintains some structural integrity after some hours in the pot, spinach does not. So you are left with something not unlike slime-coated vegetables bolied yellow but without salt. Veggies garnished with ectoplasm - Just like Mum used to make!
Personally, I wouldn't even feed it to the Spice Girls, but I have to provide a positive example for the kids, so I force it down and stifle my ghasps and roars.
And no, it is not one of mine.
Before turning over the link, I must say that it is very rare that I laugh out loud at an actual God-damned newspaper, specifically, with a newspaper. Included are some wonderful bits of taboo slang and verbiage that made me wonder how this ever got onto the editors desk, never mind off it.
Here you go -
enjoy.
"Tonight Cat, I am going to be Jesus Christ being Liam Gallagher singing Wonderwall."
Fan-fucking-tastic
"Nayam, Meene and Linda, two Hindus and a non-practising Christian, admit they don't know much about the Passion. "I'm guessing it's Jesus who dies," Linda says."
Likewise, brilliant! We need opinions, any will do!
It's flower-looking time
That's the most literal translation of "hanami" - though it's significance is really in Cherry Blossoms.
Most people think of something like this when they think of Japan and Cherry Blossoms:
This is the sadder side of tree viewing. This one was supposed to bring balance to the garden. It was like a sibling sapling to another tree. Early in it's career it slaughtered a bunch of seedlings and was so wrecked by a fight with it's mate that it is only held together by a bamboo exoskeleton and hatred. You can see it talking to the owner of the white car, telling it not to be too proud of "this mechanical monstrosity" it has created.
Finally, for your appreciation is Mariko next to a piece of herbiage. Enjoy!
Welcome to the world of the damned
Where the network doesn't speak to ones laptop and refuses to post photos.
Hours of hair-pulling, nail-biting, scratching, coyly trying things one last time after abandoning them have still not yeilded positive results. Most disapointing as I have tons to say - another toilet to the stars, flowers, fearful repast - all languishing on my lappy.
It seems the lappy has outlived it's usefulness, now doomed to forever from network to network being cast out like a lepper.
[keen observer says] Why not do it at home after work?
I am glad you asked that, keen observer, because I have such a good answer to that. I have been going out a lot and / or watching all three extended versions of the Lord of the Rings. Certainly, the lord of the rings has left little time for anything else - I rented them for a week only - taking about ten hours of the last three days.
On the subject ofthe Lord of the Rings, the extended versions make much more sense than the ones shown in the cinemas. The first time I saw part two I began to wonder if Jackson had been round to Bruce Willis' house to borrow the plot sledge-hammer. They've met once, now they're in love!
Bah - a real post in the offing, now.
Sunday Photoblogging 3 - Sunday on Tuesday
This Sunday Photoblog is becoming increasingly badly named but whatever...
I went to another one of these school get-togethers the other night and was regaled with the usual horrors on a plate. No big surprises, and no fish heads this year. Instead of the food, though, I thought I might make a case for technology. See below:
Now, this might look like a common or garden CD / DVD player but it is actually the control unit for the item shown below:
Being an old hand in Japan now, I am used to the average Western-style toilet with added luxuries of heated seats and a power-shower to blast the dags out of ones anal-beard. I am unmoved by such paltry innovations. In this case, I was takenb almost instantly, as the toilet not only automatically opened the lid but also lit the bowl with blue fluorescent light. It didn't stop there - the control unit pictured above also had a tasteful blue backlighting.
Not that I use any of these features, by the way. I just like the idea in principle. No way am I going to use the washer on a toilet that drunk people use.
The absolute opposite of this is your common or garden garden or hole in the gound. My mother had the misfortune to loose her dignity over one of these while she was over here last time. Next up is the Japanese toilet, which I have used a grand total of once, in just over four years. For your consideration:
I can see this leading to a cropper, can't you? Anyhow, that is the end of the toilet-non-humour.
I overheard this at the bank, the other day:
Bank Clerk: Good Morning! How may I help you?
Customer: I'd like to ask about this charge, here.
BC: Ah yes, I see. It seems that you dropped below your credit limit for a while there.
C: It was only three hours. I don't understand how that cost me thriry pounds.
BC: There is the cost of sending a letter...
C: Please. See this mark here? This means that it was printed and sent automatically. So, five pence for an envelope, two for the paper, rather less than one for ink and general wear and tear. Oh yes, I forgot thirty pence fof a stamp. Where is the other twenty-nie and a half pounds going?
BC: I think it is supposed to be a deterant.
C: I see. Presumably this moral code works both ways does it? I will quietly wait for my thirty pounds from the time you accidentally billed me too much?
BC: There are people waiting behind you and I am sure a manager...
C: Am I going to be fined for this, too? Or is this one of those situations like in the film Double Jeopardy? Am I already covered for this? Can I expect to see a line on my next statement saying, "thirty pounds for temerity"?
But seriously, banks do seem to have this kind of twisted view of the world, completely divorcesd from any kind of morality. I once had a friend who was a self-proffessed anarchist (everyone else professed him a hooligan). I never really agreed too much with most of the stuff he did, but I was in complete agreement when he went around writing, "all banking is theft" on all the cash machines in the city.
It seems that at last
someone agrees with him. It seems that the costs above were, as suspected, a way of boosting profits. I actually worked at one of the banks mentioned in the passage and I know that they always perform a very tiring balancing act of making record profits whilst dodging a windfall tax. Sickening, eh? Even more so when you realise that some of the people in the country can't pay their debts.
Banks - If you are worried about people not paying their credit card bills on time, maybe you shouldn't be quite so free when you are giving them out. I will elaborate - How can a student possibly be expected to take responsibility for a credit card or overdaft with no fixed income?
Danger Zone - 1 Posh Danger
Every year in March, aproximately one sixth of the teachers are moved on to a new school. I am not sure why, though it is a central policy. In any case, there is a leaving do where you can get drunk and eat japanese food for pretty high cost. these things are always a bit of a trial to me, not because of the company but because of the food. Those of you who think that japanese food starts and stops with sushi can think again. Some of it is excellent, though some of it makes me physically sick.
To give you an idea of how it works I have stuck a picture at the top with a guide below.
Bottom middle - This looks like a slice of grilled fish. It is just that, an innocent piece of salmon. Very little danger here.
Bottom right - This looks like some kind of vegetable. It is! but beware, this could have been almost anything. Potential danger in this kind of dish.
Bottom left - This looks like some kind of excretion in a pot. I would not be surprised to find this in a pyramid next to a dead king. This one has high potential danger but was in fact a mixture of miso paste (from beans) and some kind of slightly bitter herbiage. Not bad.
Upper middle - Danger! Danger! You need to be careful of this kind of thing because it might be raw. In fact it was a pair of raw cephalopod carcasses filled with mustardy stuff. Personally, I would never eat this again as I was near tears and virtually vomiting where I stood the first time I had this. Moderate danger here.
Upper right - There was a little shape and contextual danger here. Japanese chefs have been known to make stuff that looks like this out of fish. However, this was quite nice.
Upper left - Run for the hills! This one of those "aquired tastes" like tripe and martini. We are old friends, we are. Only a few months back my friend Rob was horribly sick after eating some of this. Raw squid in sauce. Do not mix with beer unless you have a stomach of iron and a will of diamond.
The overall score for this number was four out of six: I could eat four of them. But it looks nice, eh? Previous episodes have contained, but not been limited to;
- Raw chicken
- Raw horse
- Cooked fish heads
- Fermented fish
This is just the stuff that I knew about. Half of the time stuff comes in lumps and you either leave it or put your faith in God or alcohol, whichever you trust the most. Hopefully this should be a recurring theme.
Sunday photoblogging - 2 Sunday on Wedensday
Mixtures of business and Mariko having the camera delayed this one a bit. We headed into Osaka to meet friends. I wasn't clear about where we were going until I actually got there but it is a definite recommendation for those of you who might one day make it to Japan.
It was a kind of mock-up of what Japan was like a hundred years ago. Known locally as the Showa Period it was after the Meiji Restoration, when Japan started talking to the world. Things were troubled even then, with new Western Issues battling with old Eastern Issues, and Japan is odd even by Asian standards. Luckily the place and the history book had only a nodding a aquaintance with each other, like people who live in vaguely the same area.
The attraction occupied the fifth up to seventh floors of a building that also contained an amusement arcade. Floor five was more or less entirely food. For a quick stop you could eat more or less anything Japanese. Alas, the prices were not
circa 1900 but nearer
circa 2030, though the food was good. We had
okonomiyaki, a fairly safe bet for anyone travelling who is not into the more grizzly Japanese fayre. Raw sea-urchin and the like.
The sixth floor was more of the same, with a few of the more lamentable types of tourist traps thrown in. The crown jewel was the ghost-doll show. Rob and Mio went in for it and Mio came out looking a bit the worse for wear. It was 500 yen (£2.50) and took rather less than two minutes to complete. The scary thing was that A) they expect you to pay so much for so little and B) People actually pay it.
On the third floor was the showForgive the quality of the photos, it was pitch-black in there:
It was almost Vaudeville meets Last Samurai meets pantomime. Not that I have anything against any of these. Unfortunately, the person who wrote the show must have done so in some kind of fevered frenzy. The centre piece of the show was a chant, which went, "oboosan wa he wo koita." This translates as "the priest farted." As if these vast flights of comedy weren't enough there was a series of gestures that went with it. The story, from what I could gather, was about a woman who feld to Las Vegas after being taunted by her husband. I think he said she smelt, or had put on weight or something. Mercifully, most of the details were hidden in songs and I was distracted by Makikos assurances that it had been exactly the same the last time she had been. Aparently, it all ended well and the two of them flew back to Japan on a trapeze wire with half of the audience trying to look up their skirts.
The true highlight of the show was when the red-haired wench, and I can scrcely think of a better word, came over to have a chat after the show. Either she liked what she saw and wanted to know more or she wanted to practice her English on me. Ho-hum, nothing does it for me like green spotty tights and a bright red wig.
Anyhow, we decided to stick around for beers and finished-up at a nomihoudai (
lit. drink as much as you can). The shop is called shirokiya (
lit. white tree shop) and is a fine place to eat / drink on the cheap. The other nice thing about it is the guy who built the empire, killing off the opposition and plastering is face all over the place in the process. I had a headmaster like that at Grammar school. My old headmaster, however, was not a closet scouser like this guy. Here he is below - aparently a lifelike characature. The hand behind his back is probably clutching a stolen car radio or something.
You do it. No, you do it!
I was on the way up to meet Evan and hand over some comapny-car keys yester day when I realised I was early and stopped to take some photos of the river. As it was, I couldn't help but overhear this couple shouting.
Him: I'll do it tomorow.
Her: You what? YOU WHAT?
Him: I said, "I'll do it tomorow."
Her: Right that's it - I'm going to live at my mum's.
Him: Wha?
Her: Two years, two years I have been asking you to move it.
Him: What's the big rush?
Her: It's an eyesore.
Him: Well going to your mums won't help, she only lives across the road.
Her: It's not just that, it's your attitude. It stinks.
Him: I see, it's me that goes around causing all the arguments is it?
I never did find out if she went to her mums, though I suspect that what they were arguing about was this.
I am on the guys side. Don't fuck with mother nature! Don't fuck with anything that is ripping a car to pieces! I quite possibly owe my continued existence to that rule.
The other side of the coin is the ridiculous figure one has to pay to get rid of anything here. My mate was just offered the golden opportunity to pay 5,000 yen (about £25) to get rid of a small fridge. Surely this kind of thing is going to keep happening?
