Natalie Portman Gangsta rap artist

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Sakura...sakura...

It's nearly springtime once again and time for cherry blossom parties known as "hanami" or better known as "another excuse for these Japs to get flat out drunk" and still considered within the norms of Japanese convention. Anyhow, hanami is a big deal here in Japan, with people tuning to television programs dedicated to the progress of these blossoms from the Okinawa islands (I think they bloom there as early as January) to Hokkaido(where they last till May).As I have mentioned, "hanami" requires everyone to sit down under the cherry trees and blossoms of course, and celebrate the coming of the new season...or year...or whatever.Just celebrate.Japanese go through great lengths to reserve a prime spot under there dang blossoms that the parks (Ohori-koen here in Fukuoka) are all covered up in blue mats and pieces of string to designate that "this" is our spot.Actually, this happens almost everytime there is an event in the park, that you actually have to "reserve" a place for you to get hammered.Well, on to the next festival...Sakura...sakura...

Renthead

"December 24th, Ten PM Eastern
Standard Time...
I Can't Believe A Year Went By So Fast...
Time To See-What We Have Time To See...
Turn The Projector On..."
This line starts the finale of the musical "Rent".Being a "renthead" myself, I just got the DVD of the movie version and have been playing it over and over ever since.It brings me back to 1996 when I first saw it in Broadway at the Nederlander theater, having braved the bitter cold of winter to line up and get the $20 front row seats.You can see and hear the cast up close and somehow imbibe the energy they exude.The moment the lights are turned down and the oh so familiar line "December 24th, 9PM Eastern standard time from here on in I shoot without a script..."is sung by Mark, the magic begins. It continues till the company takes their final bows and you still carry that energy when you get home.My CD player then was set to repeat both CD's of original broadway soundtrack so that when I get off the subway or taking the ferry to Statue island, I have "What You Own" or "Light my candle" blasting away.However superficial it may sound, I found listening to Jonathan Larson's words and music inspiring and comforting during my stay in NYC. At that time, I felt like I connected with the characters struggle, having been in the US for interviews, and shared their frustrations,failures and aspirations. I can't believe a whole decade went by so fast...but here I am still a "renthead" and mighty proud of it...Viva la vie boheme...No day but today.

Enough Said...

The cold winds of December have both ushered in the winter (fuyu) season and the sixth month of my stay here in Fukuoka. In the limited span of time I have been privileged to stay in Japan and at Kyushu University, I must say that there have been countless times and incidents have occurred which I must say I can “charge to experience”. I know everyone has an amusing or embarrassing tale to tell during these frosty and chilly nights to come so let me share some of mine.
All foreign students will agree with me that learning nihongo can be an excruciatingly painful experience specially for someone who left his home country knowing only a handful of Japanese phrases. Foolishly thinking that I can get by with a minimal spattering of “Konnichiwa” and “Do itashimashite” admixed with my own version of Japlish (like ATM doko desu ka?), boy was I mistaken. Within the comfy confines of my department, I am safe from having to wrack my brains just to ask for coffee with two sugars and cream. But it’s a totally different world when you go into a McDonald’s. Try ordering a double cheeseburger with large fries with extra ketchup, garden salad and a medium diet coke and you’ll get my drift. For me, I used a variety of techniques that included a lot of pointing, the words “kore or sore”, mime and if worse came to worse, pictionary or charades. Thank God for set meals (setto o onegaishimasu) or the combi or to-rio.
Since we are already in the topic of food, we might as well discuss it. Before I left the Philippines, I voluntarily abstained from eating Japanese food with the reasoning that I would have to eat the same stuff for the next two years. Again, for the second time, big mistake. As explained by one if my sensei, “real” Japanese food is unlike the “Filipinized” Japanese food I have been accustomed to. The real sashimi or sushi found here in Fukuoka is so vastly different from its counterparts in Saisaki or (gasp!) Tokyo Tokyo. Of course, I goes without saying that the quality and size of the sushi in Hotel Okura is far more superior than in Sushi-ya.However, with the quality and authencity of the food, there are come local food which are very foreign to my Jollibee chickenjoy and champ hamburger loving onaka. Let me name a few: unagi or freshwater eel. Yes, I realize it’s very expensive and a specialty but the texture, which is kinda slimy, makes me shudder when there are times that I have to eat it (like when it is served as a special dish for my sensei). It’s barbeque flavored with just a tinge of gooh. I could go on living without having to partake of it again, thank you. Of course, there are things that I do enjoy: going to Teppanyaki restaurants (there is a very good one in Nakasu), mongo based sweets (which remind me of hopia) and shochu (heavenly), which is a sweeter version of vodka. I take it yu-wari (diluted with hot water) and preferably with nabe. When all else fails, I run to the nearest Costco in Hisayama and gorge on Spam and blueberry cheesecake. Yummm.
One of the best things in Japan is the efficiency of the transportation system. The ease of transferring from airport to subway to bus, or the other way around is so mindblowingly simple that one may have second thoughts in getting a car (with the shakken and price of gasoline and all). But the best way to get around is a trusty bicycle to propel your way to your place of destination. I got mine on sale from Daiei and have been pedaling ever since. As there are different kinds of people, there are different kinds of bikers. There are the serious biker variety with the multi-speed racers, to BMX wielding kids, mountain biker types for the serious climbing enthusiasts to your usual garden variety ordinary biker you meet everyday. One would be most familiar with sort because they are the ones that careen out of control when the sign says “don’t walk”, brakes that screech so hard that they leave you functionally deaf for a few hours or keep on hogging the bike path when their bicycle is the foldable type with wheels so small that disassembled would fit into your pocket, but the rider would still not let you pass. Go figure. But the bicycle has opened a whole new world of possibilities for me in the city aside from the bucolic surroundings of Kaikan in Kashiihama and the extensively complex structure adjacent to it which every kaikan resident holds dear to his heart and pocket called Jusco. I have come to discover that one can ride the bicycle from Kashii to Meinohama resulting in a lot of aching muscles and dehydration, that Hawk’s town is surprisingly close to Tenjin when you are on two wheels, and going from Canal city to Hakata Station is a breeze. Serious enthusiasts have suggested taking the bicycle to Uminonakamichi or Nokonoshima Island but I would rather climb the steep and treacherous mountainside leading to an oasis of wonderment and thrills that is called Mr. Max. I am not in anyway connected with the company but you will be surprised how relaxing it is to listen to the jingle over and over and over…
But these may seem trivial to a transient visitor like me is unable to appreciate the culture Japan has to offer. The Japanese gardens, Shinto-temples,numerous festivals,Sumo wrestling,Ikebana,Origami,and the martial arts of Judo and Karate. Or traveling to distant sights to see Mount Fuji, Aso or Sakurajima, or Tokyo with its dizzying subway system ,jaw-dropping prices in the shops of Ginza or the endless maze of bars in Shinjuku. The serenity in visiting one of the many temples in Kyoto and having your picture taken with a real geisha or the peace memorials in Nagasaki and Hiroshima that reaffirm the world’s commitment in preventing another nuclear devastation. These are still just a few of many possibilities one’s stay in this country has to offer and as Eiji Miyake, David Mitchell’s protagonist in “number 9 dream” would say: I dream all dreamers, all of you. I dream the frost patterns on the temple bell. I dream the bright water dripping from the spear of Izanagi. I dream the drips solidifying into these islands we call Japan.” Enough said.

December 2004

Every Cloud Has A Silver Lining

“The fasten your seatbelt sign is now on. We are now approaching the Fukuoka International Airport. In a few minutes, we will be landing. Thank you for flying with us.” The ominous voice of the pilot woke up my semi-conscious mind as I fumbled to buckle up and re-arrange my things that were in disarray. I quickly glanced out the window and still saw a glimmer of the sun’s rays partly covered by a dark cloud. For a moment there I thought I saw a silver lining…for a moment.
As we finally disembarked, I pick up my trusty, worn-out backpack and walked straight past ahead the old Chinese woman trying to pull out a red carry-on bag, huge enough to fit her in it, from the tiny overhead bin or the two precocious kids who kept me awake most of the flight trying to figure out who could scream the loudest. And apparently their mother took a strong sedative before the flight because she was out like a log during the entire flight. Baggage claim was a breeze for there were a couple of people and my check-in luggage was just a knapsack. Just a knapsack, but it contained all of the things that I think I needed to get by in this new city.
The customs officer was more concerned and distracted with some Filipina entertainer’s boxful of pirated karaoke discs so he just waved me through. Finally, I walked past the huge mechanical doors and lit up my first cigarette in three months. I couldn’t believe I lasted that long. Inhaling the toxic fumes was my only recourse from the apparent loneliness of having to live here alone. Yes, I tried to quit but to hell with it. There are more important things to think about than lung cancer or COPD or cardiovascular disease. I just knew I needed this.
I board the airport shuttle bus and try to figure out the Japanese characters in Kanji printed in front of the bus. My instructions were to take the bus to the subway and from then figure it out step by step. It was fairly easy as I got off at the Hakata station to board yet another bus to my final destination. Taking the bus was trickier. I had to figure out pulling out the ticket from the slot and looking at the fare on the board. It was a good thing that a kindly, elderly woman helped me figure out the fare and how to push the button to a stop.
Uttering “_Domo arigato gozaimasu_” to my Japanese guardian angel (if there is such a thing), I dragged my oversized knapsack to the apartment building my friend had reserved and paid for in advance. Well, after brief exchange of pleasantries with the landlord I was led into a quaint apartment. By quaint I meant tiny. I had trouble negotiating the door to the bathroom. And then a piece of paper that introduced me to a parallel universe: apparently a lot of attention was put into sorting out the garbage in this city. It took me a week to figure out which was burnable or non-burnable or PET recyclable. Up to this day, before I throw anything into the garbage can, in the back of my mind I still have the same doubt: am I doing the right thing.
I fumble for the light switch and lo and behold: a small bed, tiny computer desk and an even tinier refrigerator greet me on my arrival. This will be home for the next two years. I squeeze myself out to the balcony and light my second cigarette.
“Konnichiwa!” reverberated like an echo from a canyon as the secretary of the office building I was supposed to work in utters them. I flash her a sheepish grin and push open the door to work. Working has never been a problem for me but having to do it elsewhere was something else. But surprisingly, being here at work was a breeze. I mean it is a lot a work and takes a lot of your time, but the people make a difference. They are patient, giving and very accommodating but not pushovers. They aim to please. Another glint of that silver lining…
As I busily type doing my day’s work on my laptop, I got to thinking, could this be my chance to make a change to something I have always planned on but ended up not doing? Maybe it is a push that would start a chain reaction. This might be my trigger. I stare into the monitor silently. You can’t be serious. It’s just a job. I just happen to be in another country. Where people speak a different language and have a different culture. It might be the drive that keeps you going maybe because this drive might be trickier and more arduous. Hey! It takes a lot of effort to get a cup of coffee or buying a Big-Mac so that must be worth something. I absentmindedly smile back at the monitor and then recomposed myself before the guy next to my desk thought that I had gone crazy. But still I saw a small sparkle of silver in the monitor where my Excel sheet was opened…
I decide to stroll down Showa-Dori after work, I think to myself, “you’re doing well”. I haven’t lit a cigarette in four months. How’s that for self-control. Maybe the more stringent anti-smoking laws of Fukuoka City did me in. It’s for the best anyway. I stop by one of the many bridges that cross the many waterways of the city. I gaze in awed wonderment at the many flickering lights that are reflected back from the dark water. They seem to form one glimmer, a unified glint…but I dare not say. As the saying goes, every cloud has a silver lining and I may have finally found mine here.

Link: http://go-fubar.kyushu.com/mag_en/articles/132/