You know Vice, that vulgar yet strangely wonderful magazine? Take a look at this! http://typepad.viceland.com/vice_magazine/2009/09/japan-homeless-hopeless-people-at-dawn.html
I both love and loathe vice. Its free, so i scramble to get it when i see one in a shop. But it sickens me somewhat. You can decide for yourself. Here's the main site:
http://www.viceland.com/index_uk.php
Tuesday, 22 September 2009
Monday, 21 September 2009
record of a living thing
I wrote a poem while daydreaming in my culture lesson yesterday. We were watching a film called 'I live in Fear' and although the film was hard to follow (i fell asleep twice), i liked the title and general idea. However, after the film ended we found out that 'I live in Fear' is a regrettably inaccurate name and that the closest translation of 'Ikimono no Kiroku' is more like 'Record of a Living Thing.' I had already written the poem by then. So i hope you enjoy its cheesy emo undertones and lack of motive for existing other than being words on a page.
i live in fear / record of a living thing
My organs have migrated
And there’s a baby on the way
It’s a monkey, growing on my back.
My lungs are merging with my brain.
Soon I’ll have a head full of air and a chest heavy with knowledge.
My heart just had to escape.
It’s perched on my shoulder,
It’s meandering its way towards my sleeve.
My organs have migrated.
I have a tongue flick flicking
At the back of my throat, and I feel as if
my eyes have teeth, devouring all they see.
Perhaps if my mouth had eyes
It would think before it spoke.
Ikimono no kiroku
Uterus full of sweat
Ikimono no kiroku
Veins full of tears
Ikimono no kiroku
Heart full of bile
Ikimono no kiroku
Stomach full of blood.
I didn’t write this with any serious thoughts it my head, I’m feeling rather happy, Probably the opposite of someone with a heart full of bile. So don’t take it literally, and *please* don’t take it seriously...E.g. there is not a baby on the way!
i live in fear / record of a living thing
My organs have migrated
And there’s a baby on the way
It’s a monkey, growing on my back.
My lungs are merging with my brain.
Soon I’ll have a head full of air and a chest heavy with knowledge.
My heart just had to escape.
It’s perched on my shoulder,
It’s meandering its way towards my sleeve.
My organs have migrated.
I have a tongue flick flicking
At the back of my throat, and I feel as if
my eyes have teeth, devouring all they see.
Perhaps if my mouth had eyes
It would think before it spoke.
Ikimono no kiroku
Uterus full of sweat
Ikimono no kiroku
Veins full of tears
Ikimono no kiroku
Heart full of bile
Ikimono no kiroku
Stomach full of blood.
I didn’t write this with any serious thoughts it my head, I’m feeling rather happy, Probably the opposite of someone with a heart full of bile. So don’t take it literally, and *please* don’t take it seriously...E.g. there is not a baby on the way!
Friday, 18 September 2009
Kidulthood
1. My dormitory has a curfew of 11pm. Every time I go out I have to rush to get home by the prescribed time, or else the dorm mother and father will worry. Actually, in the guide book it said they'd phone our parents. But I don't believe it somehow. As in, I just don't think they'd make a long distance phone call to speak to my mother, who doesn't speak a word of Japanese (the dorm mother and father function exclusively in Japanese). Anyway, the rules are there. I’m a prisoner after 11pm. The only way round it is to submit a form explaining where i’ll be (holiday, friends house etc. I don’t think there was a box for nightclub). I can do this. I’m gona do this, it makes sense. It’s just a rather peculiar sensation, having a curfew. Having to tell people where you are. Having to plan things.
2. Also, my Japanese lessons are pretty much identical to primary school, when I was learning to read and write in English. It’s the same stuff but a different language. My reading was excellent when I was 5. My writing was not so good; actually it was terrible. I remember learning to write. All the letters had to look the same on the sheet. I wanted to write imaginative stories but my spelling too bad so I could only manage a string of consonants and random vowels. Today, it’s exactly the same but in a different language. My spelling is terrible but I want to know how to write this and that. It’s frustrating.
These two things, juxtaposed, are having a strange effect. I feel like a little girl learning to do things and living by certain rules, but also having to pay rent and look after myself. Its really weird.
2. Also, my Japanese lessons are pretty much identical to primary school, when I was learning to read and write in English. It’s the same stuff but a different language. My reading was excellent when I was 5. My writing was not so good; actually it was terrible. I remember learning to write. All the letters had to look the same on the sheet. I wanted to write imaginative stories but my spelling too bad so I could only manage a string of consonants and random vowels. Today, it’s exactly the same but in a different language. My spelling is terrible but I want to know how to write this and that. It’s frustrating.
These two things, juxtaposed, are having a strange effect. I feel like a little girl learning to do things and living by certain rules, but also having to pay rent and look after myself. Its really weird.
Thursday, 17 September 2009
Inokashira Koen
I live near a park called Inokashira Koen.
Before I came to Japan I google-earthed Inokashira Koen. It revealed photographs of a lake, cherry blossom and maple trees at various stages of shedding their fiery leaves. I liked what I saw but didn’t really think about it. Great, I thought, I get to live by a park. Quite an unusual thing for someone living in Tokyo. On moving in day, when I arrived at Inokashira station, the first thing I saw was the park. The first thing I heard was the screams of cicadas (it really is the most excellent background music) which were coming straight out of the park. I couldn’t find my halls for ages; I dragged my suitcase through the 31 degree blazing heat, purely because I was (am) too stubborn to have accepted the offer of help from a student guide. I don’t need a guide, I thought, I’ve been to Japan before. All the while, Inokashira park stood silently in the background, a green blur fenced off in the periphery. Later, once I had moved into my halls and ‘settled’ (learnt how to recycle/ paid attention to and immediately broken the showering rules/ located which cupboard I should keep my shoes in/ how much space I could use in the fridge), I discovered that I would be walking through Inokashira park every day to get to uni.
Route: down the road (10 minutes), turn into the park and walk over the bridge to the train station (10 minutes), catch a train which goes two stops down. The station platform has speakers which play a cheerful tune every time a train arrives (don’t kill yourself today salaryman!), giving me something to focus on as I try and walk in a way that says ‘I am blending in.’
My first walk through Inokashira park was bracing. Morning. Smart clothes, combed hair. Hollow breakfast. half -no wait- a full cup of instant coffee, three bites of a roll, no fish, no rice, no salad.. maybe a bit of salad.. rush, rush, rush. Don’t want to be late, oh god my new housemates are waiting I’ve got to go. Quick, smoke a cigarette. Oh look, there’s that park. Slow down, stop. Photo. Photo. Photo. Oh no, keep walking! There’s the station, off we go! The park becomes a blurry green thing buzzing in the background once again, twinkling on the periphery.
Even though I’ve only been in Japan three weeks (!!) it feels as if I’ve been here forever, and certain aspects have been on triple fast forward: spaces have changed their meaning quickly. Usually I feel like it takes a while for a new space to develop an identity/meaning. When the space has a budding personality you will inevitably smash it and rebuild it as something completely different: people interact with spaces as if they were people.
At first, the park was just green fuzz. But now it’s coming more into focus, the more time I spend there. On Sunday night we went to the park on a whim, after a couple of drinks. It was so much fun, it was exhilarating! How can a park be so lively after dark? I mean, we weren’t doing much- chatting, playing on the swings, dancing to the local busker’s abominable croon. But everything just felt so charged and vibrant. I suppose that’s one of the main things that I’ve missed about Japan. But there is something special about this park. A couple of nights later, I went back for a thoroughly different but equally wonderful night. This time we had the guitar. As the light faded the sky looked redder and redder against the silhouette of trees which were gently creeping in the wind. I like it when its getting late and you feel somewhat protected by your surroundings. It’s reassuring. I also like feeling protected by the strangers around me while they’re going about their daily activities. Although this is a fairly dumb feeling to have as you aren’t supposed to feel comforted by strangers. Stranger danger, remember? I just like the buzz/collision/symbiosis of many different heads dipping all over the place. Sometimes it’s nice to feel like a very minor and unimportant part of something way bigger. I suppose that’s why I like Inokashira Park. It's wild and comforting, it's filled with interesting people.
Before I came to Japan I google-earthed Inokashira Koen. It revealed photographs of a lake, cherry blossom and maple trees at various stages of shedding their fiery leaves. I liked what I saw but didn’t really think about it. Great, I thought, I get to live by a park. Quite an unusual thing for someone living in Tokyo. On moving in day, when I arrived at Inokashira station, the first thing I saw was the park. The first thing I heard was the screams of cicadas (it really is the most excellent background music) which were coming straight out of the park. I couldn’t find my halls for ages; I dragged my suitcase through the 31 degree blazing heat, purely because I was (am) too stubborn to have accepted the offer of help from a student guide. I don’t need a guide, I thought, I’ve been to Japan before. All the while, Inokashira park stood silently in the background, a green blur fenced off in the periphery. Later, once I had moved into my halls and ‘settled’ (learnt how to recycle/ paid attention to and immediately broken the showering rules/ located which cupboard I should keep my shoes in/ how much space I could use in the fridge), I discovered that I would be walking through Inokashira park every day to get to uni.
Route: down the road (10 minutes), turn into the park and walk over the bridge to the train station (10 minutes), catch a train which goes two stops down. The station platform has speakers which play a cheerful tune every time a train arrives (don’t kill yourself today salaryman!), giving me something to focus on as I try and walk in a way that says ‘I am blending in.’
My first walk through Inokashira park was bracing. Morning. Smart clothes, combed hair. Hollow breakfast. half -no wait- a full cup of instant coffee, three bites of a roll, no fish, no rice, no salad.. maybe a bit of salad.. rush, rush, rush. Don’t want to be late, oh god my new housemates are waiting I’ve got to go. Quick, smoke a cigarette. Oh look, there’s that park. Slow down, stop. Photo. Photo. Photo. Oh no, keep walking! There’s the station, off we go! The park becomes a blurry green thing buzzing in the background once again, twinkling on the periphery.
Even though I’ve only been in Japan three weeks (!!) it feels as if I’ve been here forever, and certain aspects have been on triple fast forward: spaces have changed their meaning quickly. Usually I feel like it takes a while for a new space to develop an identity/meaning. When the space has a budding personality you will inevitably smash it and rebuild it as something completely different: people interact with spaces as if they were people.
At first, the park was just green fuzz. But now it’s coming more into focus, the more time I spend there. On Sunday night we went to the park on a whim, after a couple of drinks. It was so much fun, it was exhilarating! How can a park be so lively after dark? I mean, we weren’t doing much- chatting, playing on the swings, dancing to the local busker’s abominable croon. But everything just felt so charged and vibrant. I suppose that’s one of the main things that I’ve missed about Japan. But there is something special about this park. A couple of nights later, I went back for a thoroughly different but equally wonderful night. This time we had the guitar. As the light faded the sky looked redder and redder against the silhouette of trees which were gently creeping in the wind. I like it when its getting late and you feel somewhat protected by your surroundings. It’s reassuring. I also like feeling protected by the strangers around me while they’re going about their daily activities. Although this is a fairly dumb feeling to have as you aren’t supposed to feel comforted by strangers. Stranger danger, remember? I just like the buzz/collision/symbiosis of many different heads dipping all over the place. Sometimes it’s nice to feel like a very minor and unimportant part of something way bigger. I suppose that’s why I like Inokashira Park. It's wild and comforting, it's filled with interesting people.
Friday, 11 September 2009
Millennium Actress.
Saturday morning, 9.14am. I am sitting in my wonderful air-conditioned room, scratching mosquito bites, listening to Battles and trying to learn about 35 new Kanji for Monday. Kanji are the Chinese characters which absolutely have to be learned if I am to progress into the higher (and much more interesting) Japanese class. About 2000 Kanji are used in Japan and each one usually has more than one reading, depending on its context. Difficult, no? I actually already learnt 100 back home, which is a good start. But I need to revise a lot.
My first week of college is over. It’s been good! I want to write about everything, but I can’t. So here’s a round up:
- Japanese level one (easiest): consisted of learning how to say ummm and errr in Japanese (ehhhto, annno), knowledge which has provided me with no end of entertainment.
- The university made us all do a health examination the other day. I had my height, weight, eyesight, blood pressure, heart and lungs measured. And then they took my urine. And my blood. It was an afternoon of awkwardly avoiding the gaze of the person whose urine you just saw, and then out of boredom trying to make lighthearted-but-not-too-deep conversation with them.
- The AU phone company have devoted an entire building in Harajuku to promoting its new phone with in-built pedometer. At the top of the building (after walking round and round and pretending to be mildly interested in the products on offer) there was a free Purikura!! (プリクラ) this is a machine which takes a photo of you, and you decorate with cute stamps and then print out as little stickers which are really sweet! It has the strange effect of making everyone in the photo look really young, like super young. Maybe even under 18. I doubt I ever actually look as wide-eyed and fresh faced as I do in Purikura photos.
The other day I watched an animated film called Millennium Actress/Sennen Joyu (千年女優), as part of my Contemporary Culture course. This course feels more like some kind of fun after-school club. The assessment is any creative project of my choice. Why am I studying Geography again?! The freedom here is really inspiring. I need freedom to feel relaxed and happy and able to achieve things. Part of me doesn’t want to go back to stupid England. Maybe that’s what I was scared of before I came here...that I would like it too much.
Anyway. This film was about a young girl who helps an artist fleeing from the fascist government, who want him to join the army. As the artist runs away, he forgets the key to his art supplies. The young girl is in-awe of the man, and she promises to return the key no matter what. At about the same time she gets spotted by a scout to become an actress. These two moves shape her life forever. Her desire to find the mysterious artist spurs her on and her emerging life as an actress takes her all over Asia.
The film proceeds to mix reality with her film work as a way of telling the epic and lifelong journey she takes to return this key to its owner. What makes it magical and heart wrenching is that wherever she is; whatever role she is playing, her heart and mind are focussed on one thing: finding this man and returning the key.
The story exposes her naïve and optimistic personality, which doesn’t ever change, even when she is retired. She catches glimpses of the man throughout her life but instead of dampening the ache they only spur her on. In the end she dies having never found him, and the viewer learns that the artist had actually died too, many years before in a concentration camp. I found the film really difficult to watch in front of 60 other people. I wanted to curl up and sob! I suppose it struck a chord with me.
I’d forgotten how good Anime is at creating a sense of pure emotion. Since I watched that film I’ve been pretty dry in my thoughts. It’s a kind of dry and parched feeling you get when feelings have been exposed. When there isn’t anything left to fall back on, except harsh reality. I don’t necessarily think this is a bad thing. It’s not like I feel unmotivated or depressed, just a bit closer to the truth. Which can only be a good thing.
This weekend I’m hoping to enjoy a bit of rain and maybe even a night out. Ok one last thing:
What to do when one foreigner encounters another foreigner in Japan
1. Ignore them. They get stared at by everyone else, so it’s actually kinder to pretend they don’t exist
2. Ignore them. Stupid gaijin (foreigner) looks like they don’t know a word of Japanese. To associate with them would be so degrading.
3. Ignore them. This person looks/sounds like they speak fluent Japanese. To associate with them would be too exposing.
4. Smile and wave. Hey! Foreigner, look! We’re in Japan!
These are the basic options. You never know how one will react! I usually go with the first option: dragging oneself through a severely busy street can be exhausting purely due to having ones every move chartered. I always secretly want to choose option four And I think everyone secretly wants to choose option four.
Ja mata ne! Until next time!
Saturday morning, 9.14am. I am sitting in my wonderful air-conditioned room, scratching mosquito bites, listening to Battles and trying to learn about 35 new Kanji for Monday. Kanji are the Chinese characters which absolutely have to be learned if I am to progress into the higher (and much more interesting) Japanese class. About 2000 Kanji are used in Japan and each one usually has more than one reading, depending on its context. Difficult, no? I actually already learnt 100 back home, which is a good start. But I need to revise a lot.
My first week of college is over. It’s been good! I want to write about everything, but I can’t. So here’s a round up:
- Japanese level one (easiest): consisted of learning how to say ummm and errr in Japanese (ehhhto, annno), knowledge which has provided me with no end of entertainment.
- The university made us all do a health examination the other day. I had my height, weight, eyesight, blood pressure, heart and lungs measured. And then they took my urine. And my blood. It was an afternoon of awkwardly avoiding the gaze of the person whose urine you just saw, and then out of boredom trying to make lighthearted-but-not-too-deep conversation with them.
- The AU phone company have devoted an entire building in Harajuku to promoting its new phone with in-built pedometer. At the top of the building (after walking round and round and pretending to be mildly interested in the products on offer) there was a free Purikura!! (プリクラ) this is a machine which takes a photo of you, and you decorate with cute stamps and then print out as little stickers which are really sweet! It has the strange effect of making everyone in the photo look really young, like super young. Maybe even under 18. I doubt I ever actually look as wide-eyed and fresh faced as I do in Purikura photos.
The other day I watched an animated film called Millennium Actress/Sennen Joyu (千年女優), as part of my Contemporary Culture course. This course feels more like some kind of fun after-school club. The assessment is any creative project of my choice. Why am I studying Geography again?! The freedom here is really inspiring. I need freedom to feel relaxed and happy and able to achieve things. Part of me doesn’t want to go back to stupid England. Maybe that’s what I was scared of before I came here...that I would like it too much.
Anyway. This film was about a young girl who helps an artist fleeing from the fascist government, who want him to join the army. As the artist runs away, he forgets the key to his art supplies. The young girl is in-awe of the man, and she promises to return the key no matter what. At about the same time she gets spotted by a scout to become an actress. These two moves shape her life forever. Her desire to find the mysterious artist spurs her on and her emerging life as an actress takes her all over Asia.
The film proceeds to mix reality with her film work as a way of telling the epic and lifelong journey she takes to return this key to its owner. What makes it magical and heart wrenching is that wherever she is; whatever role she is playing, her heart and mind are focussed on one thing: finding this man and returning the key.
The story exposes her naïve and optimistic personality, which doesn’t ever change, even when she is retired. She catches glimpses of the man throughout her life but instead of dampening the ache they only spur her on. In the end she dies having never found him, and the viewer learns that the artist had actually died too, many years before in a concentration camp. I found the film really difficult to watch in front of 60 other people. I wanted to curl up and sob! I suppose it struck a chord with me.
I’d forgotten how good Anime is at creating a sense of pure emotion. Since I watched that film I’ve been pretty dry in my thoughts. It’s a kind of dry and parched feeling you get when feelings have been exposed. When there isn’t anything left to fall back on, except harsh reality. I don’t necessarily think this is a bad thing. It’s not like I feel unmotivated or depressed, just a bit closer to the truth. Which can only be a good thing.
This weekend I’m hoping to enjoy a bit of rain and maybe even a night out. Ok one last thing:
What to do when one foreigner encounters another foreigner in Japan
1. Ignore them. They get stared at by everyone else, so it’s actually kinder to pretend they don’t exist
2. Ignore them. Stupid gaijin (foreigner) looks like they don’t know a word of Japanese. To associate with them would be so degrading.
3. Ignore them. This person looks/sounds like they speak fluent Japanese. To associate with them would be too exposing.
4. Smile and wave. Hey! Foreigner, look! We’re in Japan!
These are the basic options. You never know how one will react! I usually go with the first option: dragging oneself through a severely busy street can be exhausting purely due to having ones every move chartered. I always secretly want to choose option four And I think everyone secretly wants to choose option four.
Ja mata ne! Until next time!
Sunday, 6 September 2009
Sunday morning
Looking closely at my disgusting-but-healing-well index finger, I notice the scab is beginning to look quite scenic. There are follies, and crevices, and a piece of glitter which has somehow attached itself to a bit in the middle that could easily be a tiny replication of Ayres rock. I’ve become so reflective recently. Japan is really different, I’m still being reminded of all the small things that I’d forgotten about this country since going off to Uni. Some things back home are really grey. There are things which make me confused and depressed, and when I’m home in England I don’t understand why. But now I’m back in Japan, I do.
I’ve wanted to be here ever since I was 5, when I was made an honorary member of the Japanese children’s friendship group at primary school, and I went to their birthday parties and ate chips shaped like alphabet numbers and sticks of strawberry pocky and played mini tenpin bowling and dressed up like Sailor Moon characters. And ached desperately for hello kitty. I’d beg my mum to find me tiny packets of scented tissues with characters printed on them. I’d save cute Japanese sweets until they were too old to eat.
We’d look at each other with keen interest, me and the Japanese children. I liked their straight black hair and peeping dark eyes with the soft brush of lashes. They liked my white blonde hair and big blue eyes. To me they looked perfect, and I was the deviant. Now I live in Japan and people still have that keen interest in me, and I in them. But it’s grown up somewhat. I mostly feel the gap between us, and am aware that something as stupid and shallow as my appearance will forever hold me in the position of outsider, no matter how long I live here, no matter how much Japanese I know. I am a foreigner. Even if I gave birth to half-Japanese children, they wouldn’t be considered pure. This is an impossible concept for a girl who grew up in multicultural London. I am held strangely at the centre of attention, yet also completely on the periphery. My personal tutor said it was a good position to be in because this juxtaposition of placements means that I can get away with less than is expected.
I suppose he is right, every position has its good qualities. And I think life is very hard for those who are born here. The pace, the environment. Sometimes the word human doesn’t describe those who I meet…they are more machine than organic. They work very hard, and they live a life of colour and plastic. But who am I to say?! I really don’t know! It’s infuriating but amazing.
Yesterday was a good day. I went into the city with new friends, nice friends. I’d forgotten that excited feeling you get when you meet new people.
The heat was baking and all the more intense with skyscrapers glaring down from all angles, with straight-faced serious city people trying to get places while you gawp and stare and stand. I felt like every step I took was a mistake. Just like learning to dance, one must learn how to walk through a new metropolis. I’ve got the dance perfected in London: if you’re rushing and there are tourists on the tube, you’re patience is allowed to run out quickly. You can scuttle past feeling important and put-out by the stupid foreigners. Now I am that stupid foreigner, figuring out the steps to a whole new movement. It is almost pointless. David is thoughtful and mischievous- he dares me to ask a pair of pretty young women where the nearest Mc Donald’s is. I try and portray a sense of urgency when I ask. They seem unfazed and point me back down the street. I am expected to ask such questions. Nevermind. Next time I might ask in loud American English, while on the train, perhaps while talking loudly into a cell phone and chewing gum. I want a reaction. Come on people! I’m a disgusting foreigner! It’s going to be an interesting few months.
The walk around Shibuya was fun. We ate a strange but cheap and convenient lunch, and wandered around gormlessly gazing at everything. Erica, Gwyneth and Maud are my housemates. Eva and David live with families. Eva’s family won’t give her a key and kicked her out for the day. Davids’ takes him to karaoke and overfeeds him (he rings home and unashamedly asks to talk to Mum). My halls are nice, strange. The Japanese residents don’t even seem to talk to each other but maybe that’s because everyone goes to different universities. Gwyneth, Erica and I cling onto each other somewhat. Maud’s Japanese is better than her English, so she can cope. I can cope. I keep reminding myself of the wild and unprotected lifestyle I lived here in Japan before. It was the purest kind of happy, when I realised that I could cope on my own. It was like watching the end of an intense film and relaxing because you finally knew what happened. I used to live differently in Osaka. I’d spend hours working out how to get to obscure parties in tiny warehouses, and huge raves up mountains. Things are different now but it’s good to be studying again. It’s a slower lifestyle, money is tighter, but its nice finding my feet again.
Finally, here is an image which i stole a shot of the other morning. It is a visual aid to my previous post about the Salaryman, enjoy
.
Looking closely at my disgusting-but-healing-well index finger, I notice the scab is beginning to look quite scenic. There are follies, and crevices, and a piece of glitter which has somehow attached itself to a bit in the middle that could easily be a tiny replication of Ayres rock. I’ve become so reflective recently. Japan is really different, I’m still being reminded of all the small things that I’d forgotten about this country since going off to Uni. Some things back home are really grey. There are things which make me confused and depressed, and when I’m home in England I don’t understand why. But now I’m back in Japan, I do.
I’ve wanted to be here ever since I was 5, when I was made an honorary member of the Japanese children’s friendship group at primary school, and I went to their birthday parties and ate chips shaped like alphabet numbers and sticks of strawberry pocky and played mini tenpin bowling and dressed up like Sailor Moon characters. And ached desperately for hello kitty. I’d beg my mum to find me tiny packets of scented tissues with characters printed on them. I’d save cute Japanese sweets until they were too old to eat.
We’d look at each other with keen interest, me and the Japanese children. I liked their straight black hair and peeping dark eyes with the soft brush of lashes. They liked my white blonde hair and big blue eyes. To me they looked perfect, and I was the deviant. Now I live in Japan and people still have that keen interest in me, and I in them. But it’s grown up somewhat. I mostly feel the gap between us, and am aware that something as stupid and shallow as my appearance will forever hold me in the position of outsider, no matter how long I live here, no matter how much Japanese I know. I am a foreigner. Even if I gave birth to half-Japanese children, they wouldn’t be considered pure. This is an impossible concept for a girl who grew up in multicultural London. I am held strangely at the centre of attention, yet also completely on the periphery. My personal tutor said it was a good position to be in because this juxtaposition of placements means that I can get away with less than is expected.
I suppose he is right, every position has its good qualities. And I think life is very hard for those who are born here. The pace, the environment. Sometimes the word human doesn’t describe those who I meet…they are more machine than organic. They work very hard, and they live a life of colour and plastic. But who am I to say?! I really don’t know! It’s infuriating but amazing.
Yesterday was a good day. I went into the city with new friends, nice friends. I’d forgotten that excited feeling you get when you meet new people.
The heat was baking and all the more intense with skyscrapers glaring down from all angles, with straight-faced serious city people trying to get places while you gawp and stare and stand. I felt like every step I took was a mistake. Just like learning to dance, one must learn how to walk through a new metropolis. I’ve got the dance perfected in London: if you’re rushing and there are tourists on the tube, you’re patience is allowed to run out quickly. You can scuttle past feeling important and put-out by the stupid foreigners. Now I am that stupid foreigner, figuring out the steps to a whole new movement. It is almost pointless. David is thoughtful and mischievous- he dares me to ask a pair of pretty young women where the nearest Mc Donald’s is. I try and portray a sense of urgency when I ask. They seem unfazed and point me back down the street. I am expected to ask such questions. Nevermind. Next time I might ask in loud American English, while on the train, perhaps while talking loudly into a cell phone and chewing gum. I want a reaction. Come on people! I’m a disgusting foreigner! It’s going to be an interesting few months.
The walk around Shibuya was fun. We ate a strange but cheap and convenient lunch, and wandered around gormlessly gazing at everything. Erica, Gwyneth and Maud are my housemates. Eva and David live with families. Eva’s family won’t give her a key and kicked her out for the day. Davids’ takes him to karaoke and overfeeds him (he rings home and unashamedly asks to talk to Mum). My halls are nice, strange. The Japanese residents don’t even seem to talk to each other but maybe that’s because everyone goes to different universities. Gwyneth, Erica and I cling onto each other somewhat. Maud’s Japanese is better than her English, so she can cope. I can cope. I keep reminding myself of the wild and unprotected lifestyle I lived here in Japan before. It was the purest kind of happy, when I realised that I could cope on my own. It was like watching the end of an intense film and relaxing because you finally knew what happened. I used to live differently in Osaka. I’d spend hours working out how to get to obscure parties in tiny warehouses, and huge raves up mountains. Things are different now but it’s good to be studying again. It’s a slower lifestyle, money is tighter, but its nice finding my feet again.
Finally, here is an image which i stole a shot of the other morning. It is a visual aid to my previous post about the Salaryman, enjoy
.
Wednesday, 2 September 2009
Matriculation
I made it to Tokyo in one piece! Albeit rather scabby and gross; I’m covered in mosquito bites which perhaps I indulged in scratching a few too many times…
The transition from ultimate-relaxation Kyoto to kill-me-now Tokyo was extreme but very cool and exciting. Yu and I spent our last few minutes together observing Kyoto station, which presents itself like some sort of Mecca due to its size and architecture. I love buildings that give that kind of atmosphere. It was very much like the Westin Bonadventure hotel in Los Angeles, which I had to study as part of my Geography degree earlier this year. The sensations achieved are simply extreme; time is frozen because the space forces it to take a side-step. In these time-less places I find my usual desires suppressed or warped. No matter how busy they get, everything is always still. It’s a kind of beauty and I don’t know how one goes about trying to achieve such a high impact just from space, or even if anyone else picks up on it (I certainly do). There is nothing more amazing than feeling your body surrender/feeling yourself lose control, in the most warming and comforting way. I find it hard to explain.
Anyway, Kyoto station is an experience. I wouldn’t spend any large amount of time there and I’m not even sure if I particularly liked the design. But the impact was immense.
After this near-epiphany I hopped onto a nightbus bound for Tokyo which had individual seats and a ceiling strip of nightlights of purple fish and whatnot. Essentially a giant buggy, we rocked our way through the night. At various points we stopped and the driver would turn all the lights on and rasp something down the microphone. It was quite irritating but also so exciting. I do love travelling.
Coach arrived at Tokyo Eki just before 7am. I hurried to get to the Underground before the Salarymen; which is the collective name given to career-driven men who work horrifically long hours and scurry around looking haggard and drained by capitalism. They all wear nice suits and work for various companies, who expect employees to socialise with each other outside of office hours as a way of creating harmony in the workplace. Except it’s fake. No one wants to spend long nights drinking with their boss only to be expected bright and early at work the next day, but for poor Salarymen this is necessary if they are to gain any respect.
I actually don’t know if the above description is accurate, it is more a detailed stereotype. But from my observations it seems pretty close.
So now I’m in my new halls, which took far too long to get to. Worth it though. The halls are similar to the old communist building in Berlin which I had the pleasure of staying at in June. Long corridors lined with identical doors, two floors. Rooms are functional. Downstairs there is a small and clean dining room. Upstairs there is a smaller and less functional ‘kitchen’ (a microwave, a fridge and a kettle). Luckily meals are provided, and they’re healthy and Japanese style (dinner always always comes with a separate bowl of rice and miso soup) it’s nice.
University campus is very impressive. All the buildings are treasures hidden between clusters of trees, and the wide roads are lined with bigger trees, which makes for a beautiful autumn.
I can’t be bothered to go into detail about today’s ceremony- basically it was 3 hours long and involved singing a few hymns and signing a human rights declaration, plus standing up and saying ‘hai/yes’ individually (sounds like I got married!).
The afternoon was 3 more hours of form-filling at the local municipal building, making an application to receive an Alien Registration card. Oh I am so very eager to prove my status as an Alien…
Then tomorrow I have a 3 hour Japanese exam!
To quote The Strokes (sorry):
“And now my fears
They come to me in threes
So, I
Sometimes
Say, "Fate my friend,
You say the strangest things
I find, sometimes"
I made it to Tokyo in one piece! Albeit rather scabby and gross; I’m covered in mosquito bites which perhaps I indulged in scratching a few too many times…
The transition from ultimate-relaxation Kyoto to kill-me-now Tokyo was extreme but very cool and exciting. Yu and I spent our last few minutes together observing Kyoto station, which presents itself like some sort of Mecca due to its size and architecture. I love buildings that give that kind of atmosphere. It was very much like the Westin Bonadventure hotel in Los Angeles, which I had to study as part of my Geography degree earlier this year. The sensations achieved are simply extreme; time is frozen because the space forces it to take a side-step. In these time-less places I find my usual desires suppressed or warped. No matter how busy they get, everything is always still. It’s a kind of beauty and I don’t know how one goes about trying to achieve such a high impact just from space, or even if anyone else picks up on it (I certainly do). There is nothing more amazing than feeling your body surrender/feeling yourself lose control, in the most warming and comforting way. I find it hard to explain.
Anyway, Kyoto station is an experience. I wouldn’t spend any large amount of time there and I’m not even sure if I particularly liked the design. But the impact was immense.
After this near-epiphany I hopped onto a nightbus bound for Tokyo which had individual seats and a ceiling strip of nightlights of purple fish and whatnot. Essentially a giant buggy, we rocked our way through the night. At various points we stopped and the driver would turn all the lights on and rasp something down the microphone. It was quite irritating but also so exciting. I do love travelling.
Coach arrived at Tokyo Eki just before 7am. I hurried to get to the Underground before the Salarymen; which is the collective name given to career-driven men who work horrifically long hours and scurry around looking haggard and drained by capitalism. They all wear nice suits and work for various companies, who expect employees to socialise with each other outside of office hours as a way of creating harmony in the workplace. Except it’s fake. No one wants to spend long nights drinking with their boss only to be expected bright and early at work the next day, but for poor Salarymen this is necessary if they are to gain any respect.
I actually don’t know if the above description is accurate, it is more a detailed stereotype. But from my observations it seems pretty close.
So now I’m in my new halls, which took far too long to get to. Worth it though. The halls are similar to the old communist building in Berlin which I had the pleasure of staying at in June. Long corridors lined with identical doors, two floors. Rooms are functional. Downstairs there is a small and clean dining room. Upstairs there is a smaller and less functional ‘kitchen’ (a microwave, a fridge and a kettle). Luckily meals are provided, and they’re healthy and Japanese style (dinner always always comes with a separate bowl of rice and miso soup) it’s nice.
University campus is very impressive. All the buildings are treasures hidden between clusters of trees, and the wide roads are lined with bigger trees, which makes for a beautiful autumn.
I can’t be bothered to go into detail about today’s ceremony- basically it was 3 hours long and involved singing a few hymns and signing a human rights declaration, plus standing up and saying ‘hai/yes’ individually (sounds like I got married!).
The afternoon was 3 more hours of form-filling at the local municipal building, making an application to receive an Alien Registration card. Oh I am so very eager to prove my status as an Alien…
Then tomorrow I have a 3 hour Japanese exam!
To quote The Strokes (sorry):
“And now my fears
They come to me in threes
So, I
Sometimes
Say, "Fate my friend,
You say the strangest things
I find, sometimes"
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