Sanctum, Plus Snicker

If you haven't noticed, I'm working to make up for my long silence by posting a lot of stuff while it is still technically October because this site records entry dates from American time. Anyways, this last one for a time collects two things that didn't fit well with the others and would have made them overly long anyways.

Here's the best part of my room, taken at a head-tilted-left angle for a dash of excitement that might cause a few of you to actually read this superficial post. My messy desk and four-stringed friend, named "Solomon" as an ironic comment on its rock-bottom purchase price, take center stage. Unlike my last apartment, I didn't go through the motions of cleaning any accumulated clutter for your viewing ease this time, so if you feel moved to do so please pray for my future wife (Lord willing, in His timing) and her willingness to give somewhat sloppy me extra grace here.

The other thing is a literally translated sign that made me smile when I saw it in the Daiso store I mentioned last time. Plain forms of verbs in Japanese don't sound like commands at all and can even be a natural sentence in casual conversation, but the effect in English...well, judge for yourself.

Money To Burn

A lot of people were watching the World Series recently because it's the first time in history that two American teams competing for the title had Japanese players--and do Americans give half a rip about what their players do overseas? Very interesting. However, this recent diversion doesn't change the entrenched fact that the national pasttime over here is clearly shopping!

So let's say you are visiting me and want to spend some of your tourist cash. Where would I take you? Answer: I would probably make you buy me a fancy meal and train ticket to someplace I haven't been yet.

'No, no, no,' you say, 'I want to spend where you spend, experience the life of an exchange student for a day.' I would laugh at you, because you must not understand that I am a closet ascetic, a cheapskate who gets a secret thrill out of buying random, expiring vegetables and using them in some improvised way at my next home-made meal. I get much more satisfaction out of using what I already have well and living frugally than in securing a lot of new things.

However, if you were to beg and plead, I would probably realize that I was being selfish in imposing my own opinions on you, as well as not much fun. So we would go together down to the local bakery, or in Japanese pan-ya ["pan" comes from Portugese, I believe, and means bread, while the character for "ya" simply means shop or establishment].

There is almost always a pretty saleswoman out front trying to draw new customers to try the latest seasonal recipe. Please let me digress for a minute on the apparent fascination with/promotion of Halloween this year. Next to the jack-o-lantern there are a few shelves of pumpkin-shaped cookies, and two weeks ago many of the trains had advertisements for Tokyo Disneyland's "spook-tacular" shows. Why? Well for one thing it's from America and thus exotic or worthy of imitation. For another, it accords well with the ingrained Japanese habit of taking a few days in the year to dress up and throw off societal restraint; back in the old days this meant festivals, while now it means "cosplay" at anime conventions. Either way, I think it's pretty silly to have all this top-down promotion of an age-old harvest ritual in any society where the average person isn't farming for their sustenance.

Where were we? Right--buying bread. There are a lot of delicious varities here, as the rule seems to be 'any flavor that the customers like is worth selling.' I was a bit concerned in my initial months because most bread seemed to be of the soft, bleached-bland sort and I very much appreciate European-style seeded wheat bread--hard on the teeth, but good for fiber and very tasty once you stop relying on pure-sugar spreads for flavor. (I get preachy too easily, don't I? Please be patient with me.) However my first purchase at this shop, a crusty wheat loaf chock full of dried figs and walnuts, countered this trend in a delicious manner. I am not a big fan of the artificially flavored 'melon bread' that so many foreigners rave about, but maybe I haven't loosened up my sweet tooth enough yet.

OK, so you want something besides food? First stop is Daiso, where basically everything is 105 yen (currently 91¢), the Japanese answer to dollar stores. Some of the stuff is cheap junk, but much of their inventory was purchased in bulk and can thus be sold for cut-rate prices. The pink sign on the far-left window says "Night help wanted," though I think neither homework nor my current skill in the respectful language required to do business without offense would allow me a spot on the payroll, and the circle around each logo on the double doors says "Welcome" in both English and Japanese (please see my "Tongues" post below if this seems strange).

What's that? You still want to keep spending? Fine; the window shopping district is over that way. I've had enough for the day and will see you back at the dorm, OK? Some quickly perishing spinach is begging to be tossed into a makeshift salad.

Construction Nation

Now for something completely different--and unfunny, at that. A recent sea change in my view toward this new homeland of mine came while reading Alex Kerr's Dogs and Demons. It was not unlike meeting a charming stranger in class and then having one of your friends come up and tell you how that person cheated and was put on academic probation last semester. However, I pray that my love for Japan and all its many good qualities will not sink into cynical disillusionment at its various problems (and what nation doesn't have its issues?) but be strengthened and deepened as I see more of its true state.

I recommend picking up this book if you have a deeper-than-passing interest in this country, though chapters 9 & 10 are fairly redundant and it is definitely a discouraging read. For those of you without much time, as well as those who will read it but may doubt some of its claims, I offer an example from my hometown (which the Haradas, my geographically closest host family, first brought to my attention).

Once upon a time in this suburb called Kunitachi, there stood a very well-built train station. The architectural style wasn't lavish, but tasteful and stately. It was regarded with pride by its residents and was a sort of town symbol, even earning a spot in the pavement of the long pedestrian road that heads to Hitotsubashi University.


Unfortunately, that plaque and a few old pictures are all that remain. The government and the train system, flush with construction cash and steeped in expansionist dreams, made the executive decision that the station needed more platforms and a redesign more fitting with modern styles (historical retrofitting is, from the little I've seen, almost never taken into account as a viable option). When you lift your eyes from the walkway pictured above and walk in front of the nearby bus stop, this is what you see.

True, it isn't Wurster Hall on the Cal campus or some other such visual monstrosity, but Kunitachi has lost a part of its unique charm and become homogenized into the bland functionality that characterizes almost all of the buildings where everyday Japanese people work and live. The influence of their country's world-renowned architects doesn't exactly trickle down to something most people see.

For another sad example, this is the street which I bike up and down every time I need to get to the train station. Advertising clutters the sides of every building, telephone cables needlessly hem in the sky, and the sidewalks are not only narrow--two people alongside each other is almost cramped--but also freely given over to bike usage, another good reason to cycle rather than stroll. Apart from designated parks, there is very little nature to be found in this mammoth metropolis.

I realize that these things are small complaints and I am blessed to be here with all this convenience and efficient transportation. However, a little regard for streetside appearance and more concern for nature at the planning stage isn't, I think, an unreasonable request for change. Those of you out there studying architecture or interior design, please change the world wisely! OK, off the soapbox.

Please Enter My Domain

Many of you have been waiting quite some time for these exclusive pictures of my wild and uncharted habitat. The BBC documentary deal has been indefinitely postponed, but international rights agreements have enough loopholes that I was able to sneak these shots off the set.

We'll start from the building my Friday seminar (3 hours of discussion in acad-
emic Japan-
ese, but I'm learning things slowly) is held in. About half the campus buildings are in this elegant style; the others could have been stolen from your average community college. The smell of the older ones, though, always brings my nose back to the school buildings of Germany--does this make me sound like an elitist wine connoisseur or what?

A quick turn as we cross the street back to my dorm and it becomes clear that students, accust-
omed to an excellent train system and no longer required to take PE-type courses, are habitual bicycle users. As a fellow addict, I can't offer much criticism; I rode the 50 meters to this computer center just to save a few seconds!

OK; we're getting close. The dorm is straight ahead on this path, and the Sherlock Forest that greets me every time I bike out in the morning is on our left.












Here's the main entrance! I'm glad the picture is of a sunny day, which we have more of and with better tempatures (though probably worse air quality given the distance from the ocean) than in Berkeley.









Just one flight of stairs brings you to my floor, which was a big relief when I arrived with over 150 lbs of luggage. My mailbox is among the gray bins on the far left.

If we go left at the top of the stairs, we enter this little communal hangout nook, where people watch silly enter-
tainment shows or maudlin TV dramas and pretend to study. No, I don't know why there is a separate hand-washing sink when the communal kitchen is on the other side of the right wall.

Here are three of the four other UC exchange students working in my favorite part of the dorm, preparing a group dinner of spaghetti topped with soy sauce and salmon. Yes, it was delicious, largely because I didn't pay for it. At times it gets busy in here, but I love that people are always dropping in to cook and chat.


That's all for now. Here's to cross-cultural bonding!

Quirks and Quotas

Finally, a chance to update after many busy days getting settled into my university environment. I now feel that I've truly moved here because I just today changed my cell phone billing address to my dorm room; what makes this monumental is the nasty fact that my first month's bill was apparently sent to my old address and not forwarded, leaving me with a disconnected & useless phone for the past twelve days. But, of course, that is now blessedly over--I am free to have my personal space freely invaded and rack up insanely expensive charges again.

One funny thing over here is the urinals, and I must ask approximately 75% of my readers to bear with me here. In America things are fairly standard; you use the facility and flush, period. Here, however, as soon as you approach the basin a jet of water comes down automatically and washes it for you. Seeing as there is an automatic flush as well, the initial jet has no actual function aside from assuring the soon-to-be-user that everything is sanitary. The logical next step, which is probably only a few years down the line in this politeness-conscious society, is to attach a voice which says "Please forgive our unsightly facilities and the time it takes to clean them for your use."

Another unique country feature is the meditation practice company workers do on the train.

Just kidding! As you can see, these two gentlemen are clearly dozing in public with no thought whatsoever for the safety of their belongings. Can you do that on Amtrak or a bus? Now here's the real question: why? I think two parts of the reason for the situation here is a uniformity of social training and expectations which lead people to believe that they can do this without being disturbed. Another small piece of the puzzle is that trains over here are generally so crowded that a thief would have a very hard time moving away from their mark quickly.

Here are a few statistics about my stay so far, should you care to read them.

Number of host families: 3
Host families who have let me stay the night: 1 (2 if you count my
pastor's family)
Number of self-performed haircuts: 2
Price of a 3-month commuter pass to my church's train stop: $25
(half-price student discount)
Price of a 5-pack of apples: $2.80
Karaoke experience: Once, following summer language program with
all my classmates
English songs chosen: U2's "Pride (In the Name of Love)"--a little too
high-pitched for me--and Stevie Wonder's "Golden Lady"
Visits to sushi restaurants: 4 (all kaiten...see the cuisine post)
Visits to McDonald's: 0
Visits to TGI Friday's: 2...and my church friends made me do it, I
swear! Come on: if everyone was going there for dinner hang-out
time and you wanted to join them, would you bring your own food
or sit there & starve it out? Even cheapskate me is not quite that
ascetic. And the quesadillas are pretty good after months without Mexican.