That'll be it.

Last night, whilst standing on a train platform, I realised once and for all that no matter how much money is pumped into British Rail Networks, regardless of the attempts by sundry rail companies to better the service, that branch of public transport will never in a million years be as efficient, punctual and reasonably priced as its' Japanese counterpart because of a profound difference in attitude. That which led me to this conclusion was the sight of two train drivers, one relieving the other from his shift. They saluted each other.

The Gentle Art of Diplomacy...

...Japanese style.

If you can't beat 'em...

This article has recently been a point of conversation amongst my fellow ALT's. In the midst of national conerns about bullying, student suicides and a perceived decline of standards, a government appointed panel has urged an end to the lenient approach favoured by schools in Japan.

As the situation stands, no form of punishment is acceptable in Japanese schools, whether it's detention, exclusion or physical violence, although according to ALT's who have worked in more rural areas, this isn't always the case. Stories of students having chalk thrown at them or being dragged through a corridor by the hair have reached me from forgotten sources.

There is a law in Japan, expressly forbiding students from being excluded from class, as they have a fundamental right to be educated. Of course, what looks good on paper rarely stands up to reality. If the student has made up their mind to be as disruptive as possible, then there is literally nothing the teacher can do.

Perhaps there are some who would welcome the chance to hit their students, but this could only create more problems, as some of the most troubled children are probably getting this at home. One of my more volatile students was hospitalised by his father for playing truant. This "protruding nail must be hammered" attitude is all well and good when constructing houses, but human beings are another matter. Unfortuantely, such attitudes don't recognise individual cases because of a historic denial of individuals.

Japan in one day.

In recent months, both Hayley and I have experienced a profound disillusionment with Japan. Perhaps it's a symptom of homesickness, or maybe a comedown from the initial shock and thrill of being here. We have started making (elaborate) plans for a grand exit, but neither of us wants to leave Japan with such a nasty taste in our mouths. We've concluded that in order to depart in a good mood, we have to spend the rest of our time here behaving like tourists. I present you the extravaganza of saturday...

We woke up at the masochistic time of five in the morning, in order to visit the biggest fish market in the world at Tsukiji.









Breakfast was absurdly fresh sashimi from this place. Yum.

Tsukiji is also notable for Tsukiji Hongan-ji, a remarkably Indian looking Buddhist temple, reminding one of the religions' roots.


We found this to be a friendlier temple by far than others we've encountered in more touristy spots. Signs above pamphlets, declaring "It is free" or inviting visitors to look at the "beautiful golden altar" melt all but the iciest of hearts.


Also in the vicinity is the Hama Rikyu Teien, an ornamental garden, originally used as a duck hunting ground, now home to some very fat, un-hunted ducks.




All very lovely, but I prefer my parks a bit more rugged.

Our last stop, before collapsing in an exhausted heap, was Ginza, just up the road from the Imperial Palace, and one of the first places in Tokyo to Westernise. Ginza is certainly striking, but it's not one of my favourite places, mostly because of a certain snob factor. Ginza is the place to be seen. A former private student was what I dubbed a Ginza Granny - a moderately wealthy woman who likes nothing better than to put on her finest clothes and walk through Ginza, just to be associated with the place. For the dirtier visitor, like myself, there is little to keep one occupied, unless you relish the idea of buying a box of chocolates that costs the same as a CD.

Ginza is however, home to the SONY Showroom, exhibiting the very latest in life-devouring gadgets and toys, most notable of which were video cameras of a hyper-reality-dream-like brilliance, and a demo of the upcoming (and erroneously titled) Final Fantasy 13, which would have most definitely stopped me from graduating had it been released back then...the showroom was, sadly, bereft of robot dogs.

Also present was the latest offering from Nissan...


...apparently friendlier to the environment than your average fuel guzzler...but I didn't have a clue what the accompanying placard was talking about.

...all that done, we staggered home and watched a silly film. In the face of our recent gripes with this infuriating country, behaving like tourists had us enjoying and discovering things for the first time in a long time...expect more entries like this dotted about over the coming year.

大寒 - Daikan

Literally "Big Cold", Daikan is the coldest part of the winter before spring, the period from the 20th of January until the 3rd of February, or Setsubun. Our saintly landlord came round last night with a large bowl of Japanese pumpkins. Apparently, if one eats pumpkins on the first night of Daikan, then catching a cold can be avoided all year round. Tune in at the same time next January, when the mettle of this tradition will be scrutinised.

Unexpected sources

It strikes me as funny that, in the face of everything else he's done, what may ultimately bring down Blair is something that politicians have been doing since the dawn of politics.

Bikes

I had a conversation with a friend once about the merits of bicycles, and my views on how laws should be applied. My stance at the time was that, as bikes pose no real risk to anybody, in comparison to cars, they should be given free rein to cycle on the pavement, in the middle of the road, down the wrong side of the road, anywhere they bloody well pleased. My friend called me a damn fool, or something similar at the time, but I was adamant. Matt, if you're reading this now, I was wrong. Enjoy my new bike as I do, it's quite a shock to be more terrified of my fellow cyclists than I am of my former enemies, the cars.

My return to England will no doubt be backed up by a new found respect for the order of cycling laws, but something I mustn't forget is that if I leave my bike unattended and unlocked in Britain, it will be gone within seconds.

Recovery & burnout

I'm cured!!! After a week of being pumped up with antibiotics (experiencing my first drug induced hallucination in a number of years) and gone at with the very latest in big syringe technology, I am all but empty of pus, capable of speech, laughter, and above all, that essential paving of the path to recovery, eating.

I look at my blog and see how neglected the poor dear has been. I also remember a time last year, brimming with bright eyed "I will be a writer!!!" earnestness, when I declared that I would update it every day, whilst maintaining no less than four others...oh foolish boy, where was that energy when you were at school? I've seen a significant drop in the quality of entries since that ambitious mission statement, so I am beating a retreat, back to the safety of the weekly post...and maybe more if I feel inspired...I thank you.

Tonsillitis? Again?

With a vengeance it would seem. Where last years throat infection was "acute", this one is "chronic", and there was never a more fitting adjective...except perhaps "fucking".


The left side of the back of my mouth has swelled to the point of my throat closing up, resulting in my only being able to eat soup...certainly, a harsh way to fight back the Christmas Belly. Furthermore, as well as being slightly swollen itself, my tongue has not the free space it formerly did to dart about, where once the cavern of my mouth was a glorious echo chamber for my favourite wobbly pink bit of flesh. That constant pitter-patter of talking, indicitive of my genus has been replaced with a thick, plodding tumble of muddy syllables, and now I sound like Sloth, only less articulate.

Up and down, this has given me a week off work...so I can go to the hospital everyday & they can stick things in me...but it will make me better...but I won't get paid for that week. Life, oh life, oh life...

I'd better make some observations about Japan then...what they expect you to know and what they are surprised at you knowing is another example of the "either-or, nothing in the middle" mentality. Although I understood the pathologically complicated, yet grammatically speaking, refreshingly simple, directions and procedure to register as an out-patient, my directee didn't appear convinced of my comprehension. Not two minutes later, she corrected my use of Honorific Japanese (or Keigo), something that the Japanese themselves find difficult, and I've not even started studying it yet...although I suspect that this week will have me galloping through my textbook...or sitting on the sofa drinking tea.

Of unprecedented generosity and unremitting bastardry

Last night, Hayley and I went to a banquet at the house of our venerable landlord, Tsuchiya san. On the menu was Sukiyaki, basically high quality beef, thinly sliced & cooked at the table in a pan of soy sauce and sugar with a variety of vegetables and tofu. It was huge. He also presented a massive dish of sushi, about fifteen varieties, so the negligible journey home was accompanied by an invisible orchestra of timpani.

Our host wasn't eating much, spending most of the night cooking for us. We felt a little self conscious about that, but he didn't mind, and informed us that he had to keep below a certain weight, for the good of his health.

The Japanese Ministry of Health has approved an equation for determining your relative height to weight ratio. I, for example am roughly 186cm tall, and I weigh 80kg. For the equation, you need to put a decimal point after the 100 for your height, and multiply it by itself, thus

1.86 x 1.86 = 3.4596

Then divide your weight by the answer above.

80 ÷ 3.4596 = ?

If your answer is between 20 and 24, then you are, by official Government standards, healthy. Myself scoring 23.12406 means I could be healthier, but I've always known that. Hayley (despite her adoption of my uncompromisingly large diet) is remarkably within the gap.

Given that it's a rarity for the Japanese to entertain at home, this was something of an honour, so we bought desert, in the form of dango and cakes shaped like fish, stuffed with soy bean jam. These, however, were immediately offered up before his Shrine to Inari, the Shinto Rice Deity, and his family Buddhist Temple, adorned with pictures of his parents. Buddhism and Shinto are intimately linked in Japan.

Tsuchiya san went on to talk about the history of Japanese Buddhism and how there is no religious conflict within the country. True, Christians were persecuted in the Edo period, but that probably has more to do with social, political and cultural factors, rather than being an ideological disagreement.

Tsuchiya san is a member of the Soutou sect of Buddhism, although his family has been traditionally associated with a different sect. He is enthusiastic about Soutou Buddhism because he feels it is the root of Japanese culture.

I may be accused of oversimplification by any Buddhists who might be reading, but Soutou Buddhism works on the principal that Buddha nature is inherent in everybody and everything, and it doesn't need to be attained, just harmonised with. Simple rituals, such as the Tea Ceremony, or Zazen, are intended to realise this clearness of mind and spirit. Soutou Buddhism has rules for every aspect of life, from opening doors to going to the toilet.

For a people famed for avoiding the direct and embracing the general, at least when it comes to communication, the Japanese can be sickeningly specific. This is understandable when one considers their complicated religion and language, where a slight mis-pronunciation can result in wildly different meanings, but the condition takes a near pathological twist when it comes to matters bureaucratic. Today, I have returned from the local ward office, defeated in my attempts to avoid paying a bill I don't think I should.

Humph...entries like this make me want to resurrect the late Blog of Anger...basically, Health Insurance is mandatory out here. When I arrived, my illustrious employers provided me with an insurance plan they recommended. Unfortunately, when it came to an old injury flaring up again, this proved to be as useful as a chocolate teapot. In order to avoid paying the catastrophic fees I incurred for a bout of tonsillitis earlier last year, I had no choice but to sign up for the National Plan...and how glad I am that I did.

I've complained about this in another entry, that an injury in need of therapy was provided with painkillers, but now it seems that they want me to pay for a years worth of cover, namely the first year I arrived, when I was on that money-pit advised by the bastards I work for. Today has been a bitter test of my Japanese and basic tolerance of mankind.

That was a bit of a tangent wasn't it? Didn't go anywhere other than complaining either...I seem to have lost touch with my Buddha nature.

Christmas & New Year

The day before her departure from Japan, whilst repeatedly kicking me, my sister said
"This time tomorrow, you'll be wishing I was here doing this."
The infuriating minx was quite right.


This holiday has seen us investigating the works of Bill Viola, whose exhibition "First Dream" is on display at the Mori Tower in Roppongi Hills.


We've been to Asakusa, danced around the shiniest bits of Tokyo, and had, in total, eight hours of karaoke, a past-time seemingly conceived with my dear sister in mind...but perhaps most significantly, we re-created the Nativity using our sundry toys & things...sadly, my inability to find a friendly video hosting website means I can't cram all of it on here, so thusly, we present the final scene...



...close friends and family shall be privy to the full version just as soon as we get round to putting it onto DVD...

Having Liz here has given us a taste of home at a potentially trying time of year. In the spirit of New Year, we've formed a rough plan of action that will (one day) deposit us safely in Blighty, maybe even London, via bits of Asia & anywhere else we fancy...and in that same spirit, we went out last night to an all night event (we went home at three) in the heart of Tokyo, headlined by none other than the BOREDOMS, quite possibly one of the reasons I came out here in the first place.


To say that they rocked our socks off would be an understatement. Three drummers, going at it like the clappers, and their notorious singer fiddling with a variety of electronic squiggle boxes, shrieking down a microphone, and striking a tall totem pole contraption made out of six guitars. The Japanese ethic of "you can fit more in there" was once again demonstrated in vibrant colours, as surges of people anxious to get close to the performers thought not of those puny fleshy things in their path...Hayley & I retreated to a safe little haven on top of a recycle bin, where we could both stick our heads around the corner, and occasionally grasp an unimpeded view.

The rest of the night was a bit of a damp squib, (after seeing the headliners, how could it not be?) but I was only interested in the Boredoms. Two extremes of the DJ world were presented to us...if a DJ can surprise you with a skillfully executed blend of music and make you want to dance to it, then they're doing something good, and I doff my hat unto them. The other side of that coin is the DJ who poses, preens and peacocks about on the merits of his record collection, dress sense and attempts to rouse the crowd with a battery of hand gestures.

Present also were a troupe of "belly" dancers, but frankly, they were undeserving of the moniker (to quote one Andy Forster, inspiration for my recently acquired facial fungus, "skin and bone"), as an inflated abdomen is something I have become intimately familiar with, now that another Christmas has ended.