Hong Kong!

For the second time in my life, I went to Hong Kong. This time I was a chaperone for the high school choir who was participating in a choir festival there. The rehearsals were long, and I think it was a bit too much for the kids, but they probably learned a lot seeing how they sang Bach's B minor mass--a hard piece for their age. They also sang a piece commissioned by the hosting school who was celebrating their 40th anniversary. As such the school threw some big money into the occassion, and the kids got to perform their concert in the city hall. That was pretty cool.

All in all the week was a bit too sacred in character for me, and I reckon that I could raise hell for the rest of the week and still be eligible for heaven.

Bought a couple things at the night market, which is always fun. I was introduced to new orgasmic dessert there called "Mini Mango Delights" which consists of fresh mango puree, mango ice cream, and chunks of Phillipine mango on top. So good--they must've existed when I was there last winter, but no one was there to inform me about it! If you ever go to Hong Kong, try it.

Also met up with a former elementary school counselor of mine. That was pretty cool. I hadn't seen him and his wife for about a decade, and they were always people we wondered about as alumni of the school. Unfortunately I didn't take a picture with them but here are some pictures from the trip:
> From HKIS on a sunny day!

> Stanley market. I had lunch (alone) in a local restaurant at the far end.

> Past curfew @ the night market. Oops.

> No friendly conversations with the bus drivers here!

> Concert in Hong Kong City Hall (remember this, UBC Wind Symphys?).
Read more!

A brand new passport.

On Sunday I got my new, Japanese passport. There is something really exciting about getting a new passport, I'm not quite sure what. It was made with great haste, as my last one was only valid until October 4th, and I needed one valid at least for another 6 months to enter Hong Kong. I thought I looked like a convicted criminal when I had my picture taken for it, but once printed on the passport itself I don't look that bad. Just a bit on the tired side, but that's what I get for taking a passport ID photo at the end of a long work day. The best part of it is that the new passport is valid for 10 years--until 2016! I can't even fathom where in the world I would be then, with whom, and what I would be doing!

This new passport has this hard plastic page inside it, which apparently contains an "IC chip." The computer chip contains my identification information, complete with my ID photo, date of birth, nationality, etc. It says that because of the chip I can't get the passport wet, and if I do happen to break the chip I have to get my passport replaced, and pay for it. I kind of thought that was unfair, because it's not really our fault if the chip is fragile. I'm going to be carrying my passport under my shirt when I go to Peru, what the hell's going to happen to the IC chip if I sweat like a pig (which I will) on the Machu Picchu hike?? Brutal.

But in any case, it's pretty exciting. The first place I get to go with this new passport is Hong Kong!! My last passport had stamps from Taiwan, Hong Kong, Canada, U.S., Rome, and Japan. This one will have tonnes more--Hong Kong to begin with, and several countries in South America from next summer, and then the U.S., followed by London...or so I hope.

Sidenote: the current music director at the international school we're visiting was the music director at the Canadian international school the UBC Wind Symphony visited back in December 2005/January 2006. It will be nice to visit Hong Kong again, and reminisce about the good (and bad) times. I will try to post pictures and whatnot while we are there.
Read more!

Mr. Trainman

Ever heard of this guy? Well, he's out there, somewhere in the crowds that inhabit this city. Mr. Trainman works as an IT specialist at a company. Whether it is because his desk is hidden in the corner of the office floor, or whether it is because he is so quiet--well, probably both--we cannot say for sure, but he often goes unnoticed by everyone around him. He commutes to and from work hiding behind backs, pillars, and shadows, slithering through the crowd. When he is noticed, it is because he has tripped on nothing and has fallen on his face. Or he's woken up in a screaming fit on the train.

When he goes home, he sits in front of his computer and his social life begins there. He knows not the faces or the voices of the people he types to, but they are his friends nonetheless, and every night they talk to each other about...life, I guess?

Anyways, there is a happy event to this apparently miserable and pathetic story of Mr. Trainman. He meets a girl one day on the train. She is being harrassed by an intoxicated salaryman, and he steps in. Well, he kind of throws himself onto the man from behind and shudders by the door whilst the attacked drunkard transfers his frustration upon him. Luckily, some train officers intercept the drunken man and drag him off the train. The girl asks for his contact info so that she can get a hold of him later, to send a gift, perhaps.

So to make a long story short, with the help of his online friends he refashions himself, changes his way, and gets the girl in the end. They marry.

This story portrays a man that is so typical in contemporary Japan. It also vividly portrays the lives of his so-called 'friends', who lead various lives of their own--a heart-broken nurse, a detached wife, her silent husband (they don't know that they're in the same chatroom until the end), a depressed youth, and three students who don't have any idea what they want to do with their lives--and the ways in which they 'refashion' their selves while they cheer and encourage Mr. Trainman along.

The story was a movie (^-^). And it was based on a true story. So Mr. Trainman is still out there, living his happy life with his beloved wife! Isn't it a great story? Programmes with plots like these are so common, I find. Whether it's because people here are longing for some 'pure' form of love or some other idyllic notion, I don't really know. I can't help but be reminded of the article that I wrote about before...
Read more!

Snakes and Earrings

Recipient of the 2004 Akutagawa Literary Award
She was 19 when she wrote it, and this short novel contains ample sexual and visceral imagery. Although the award nomination committee accepted this work without much discussion, for a while both the book and the author were widely acclaimed amongst Japanese intellectuals with much debate and criticism. After all, the author was only 19 and, from the standpoint of the Japanese intellectual elite, what could a 19-year old possibly have to offer to our complex society?

The book was recommended to me by the English Department here, who all read it in English. I thought it would be neat to read it in Japanese (seeing how I'm fluent in the language anyway). Their reaction to the book varied, but was often one filled with a curious type of disgust and a desire to remain distant from, yet within reach of, the reality that it portrays. This reality, however, is the reality of youth culture in Japan, and although the author takes a radical example set from it, she still manages to show what it's like in the world that people rarely see.

(Breif analysis follows--it might ruin the ending. Read with discretion.)

"I'll be God myself."
They also thought that the reason why Loui goes 'back' to the tattooist, sadistic boyfriend Shiba (could be spelt Shiva, alluding to the Hindu god of life and destruction) is because she was lonely. I think there was much more to it than that. After her boyfriend Ama died, she didn't care and couldn't care less who she was with. The fact that the man was possibly related to Ama's death, in fact, only urged her to be with him. After all, Ama was dead and Shiba wasn't. The key was that this was another reality that she could change. She told herself, "It's okay, he might've killed him, but it's okay..." and then tried to change her surroundings--including the physicality of Shiba. While in some ways this probably was in an effort to get rid of everything tangible that existed and/or pertained to Ama's death, it was also a way for Loui to retain a will to live on. Loui's tendency to want to change the tangibles of her life was mostly apparent in her split tongue and her large tattoo on her back. 'Tis why Loui gradually lost the will to live as her tongue and tattoo were completed. By the end of it, she needed something else to change, something else to give her a purpose to live. Shiba was the answer.

At the same time, the reason for Loui's desire to make these changes is not necessarily because she needed constant change in her life. In fact, it is the ultimate paradox: the desire to change in order to attain perpetuity. She wanted to change Ama's hair color after finding out about the murder report on the newspaper not for the sake of changing, or just so that the police wouldn't recognize him, but also so that she can keep him, just the way he really is--gentle and at times childish, and always by her side. For her, changing his hair color would facilitate perpetuity. Then, when she loses Ama, she looks towards Shiba to provide her with the same opportunity, and it is here that her fundamental motive for change becomes particularly apparent (if it wasn't so apparent in Ama's case). At the end, she wants him to change how he looks, and she wants to change the scent of the incense, not because she doesn't want the police to find out in case there were any witnesses to his murder of Ama; rather, because she wants to make the change and make her desired reality stay. Just as she declared in the beginning of the novel, she had made herself 'God'.

Is such a phenomenon--the desire to always be changing but always be looking for a home plate--relevant? I think so, both on an individual level, as well as on the greater, cultural level, here in Japan. Highly recommended read.
Read more!

Silver lining...where is it?

They say that every cloud has a silver lining. But do they really? Recently I find that it's become increasingly difficult to focus on that silver lining--the small glimpse of all things great and happy. Maybe it's because I am tired at the end of the day, or because I am left with so much time to think and ponder all by myself. My work entails a lot of interaction with people, which is great. I have a lot of friends here who know so much more about life and work and everything else, it seems. So when it comes to asking for advice, they are inspiring and helpful, and hopeful as well. Yet, the heart-sinking feeling doens't subside and I'm often left to stand on my own. Is this what being an adult is like? Am I to make life-changing decisions without a support system or an intense conversation? Am I to go on and only share the low and high times over email?

Really, what I lack is something as simple as a friend who is going through the same transition, the same instability, the same self-doubts; someone standing on equal ground, with similar roots, with the same mindset as my own. And it hasn't gotten to me until now. There is no one to turn to when I have a bad day, or when I've been having a bad week. Emails are great but there's only so much you can say in one email, and everyone is busy; replying to emails isn't such a simple task sometimes. My good friends are scattered across the globe and the person I really want to be with is on the other side of the world, and he's probably not even half as upset as I am on a daily basis, as he is substantially more apt at finding the good in things than I.

I feel like I can't live in the now. I am always looking towards the end of the month, the end of the term, the end of the school year, in fact! Surely that is no healthy thing, and no wonder I am less motivated than usual to do the things I love and enjoy. In fact, I almost feel like I can't do the things that make me happy right now because I'm working towards a final goal--grad school. Doing things that make me happy now somehow seems to lessen the chances of me achieving the final goal. Thus, I've succumbed to a delayed form of gratification, no longer looking for things to make me happy now. Perhaps I am tired of looking for a 'silver lining' anymore, crossing my fingers in hopes of it appearing in front of me on its own. Maybe I need a vacation, but hell, it's only September!

A former roommate once told me that the incessant desire to sleep means one is usually upset in some way. It is probably true, as all I want to do these days is sleep.
Read more!

Slow days..

This is a picture taken in Stanley Park, Vancouver. The duckling seemed curious of the camera as it came charging at it.

Things in Tokyo have generally been slow. The weather is cooling off--this is a very good thing, as the heat mid-summer here is unbearable. The students are starting to settle into their daily routines, as am I. I don't have much to do just yet, as the kids haven't been assigned too much stuff and they have yet to write their first essay of the year. Once those come in I'm sure some will start asking for aid.

I researched a bit about my trip to South America next summer. Only the middle leg of it, actually--from Calama, Chile, to Cusco, Peru. We are trying to book the Inca Trail hike to Machu Picchu at the moment, as I hear that those get booked up pretty quick. Allegedly there are tons of things to be done in Bolivia, and a substantial amount of time will be spent in Chile as well, so Al's figuring out the details to those parts of the trip.

Going to Hong Kong in a few weeks, so that should be fun. The high school choir is going there to participate in a festival. It will be nice to see Hong Kong again. Expect pictures and updates.
Read more!

Coaching is...

HARD!!! So diffcult!!

Well, no, now I'm just being dramatic. It's a lot of work is what it is and communicating matters of physical movement is, as expected, difficult. Furthermore, matters of mental state are also difficult to convey. Volleyball isn't some sport where you can stand around and not move; it's no weak sport, truly. You have to throw yourself out there, and work your butt off. There's an additional difficulty if you're not tall. Like basketball, unfortunately volleyball is a sport that discriminates against us Tiny People. Blocking is out of the question--if you're short you ain't blocking, you're digging. And even if you're short, if you can jump that's great, but you really have to jump. But it can still be fun for everyone, so long as everyone understands the important roles people can and must play on the team.

Just thought I'd throw that out there.
Read more!

Keiko Abe and New Japan Phil.

I was looking for a ticket to the Carmina Burana show with the New Japan Philharmonic Orchestra. The cheapest ticket went for 4,500 yen (appx. $45), which is a drastic difference to the $10 rush/student tickets or the free tickets I used to get for the VSO. While browsing through the NJP site, I came across an exciting option: Keiko Abe as featured marimbist for the October 13/14 show. All the cheapest tickets were gone, but there were a few B tickets left, going for 4,500 yen. I would've waited for my new United Mileage Plus credit card to arrive, but the tickets were going fast. So out came my wallet and my VISA card, and now I have a ticket to see one of the best marimbists in the universe after Evelyn Glennie. How exciting!

I have to keep these spenditures to a minimum this year, because I have a Masters programme to pay for next September (if I get in), in addition to a $2,000 plane ticket that will fly me from Tokyo to Santiago, Quito to D.C., D.C. to London. Brutal. I really don't know if I'll have enough money.
Read more!

I am Urashima-taro

Just as I expected, I feel like a foriegner in my own country.

It's been only two weeks since I've left Canada to start my new life in Tokyo. I saw my mum for the first time in three years, I am working with my former teachers with whom I am now on a first-name basis, I've gone out to at least 3 parties where booze never ran out but the food always did and everyone was dancing by the end of the night at the principal's house (not to mention 3 parties in two weeks for Sohko is a huge anomaly and ground-breaking event). My Japanese is slowly but surely coming back, and I can now create full sentences without blatant grammatical errors. I'm still looking for some place to do yoga, and speaking of which, I've already bought a pair of shorts from Lululemon Japan. The food here is glorious, just like I imagined it to be, and the heat unbearable, at least for these first few weeks. Soon, autumn will hit and the food will only get better.

Amidst all this transition and re-adaptation to Japan, I am everything but adjusted and comfortable. Reverse culture-shock, they say, is harder to deal with than any other usual form of culture-shock. I'm used to how things work here -- the transportation system is the best of its kind in the entire universe, as far as I am concerned -- and know what to expect when I go to Shibuya on a Saturday evening. There are so many things here that I recognize, but that's all it is -- mere recognition. Somehow in these past four years something has changed, and I no longer feel the roots of my own identity, grounded and saturated in the soils of one of the most oddly spectacular countries of the world (if they ever were, that is).

There is a folk tale that is retold to children in this country, which tells the story of a young man by the name of Urashima-taro who saves a turtle stranded on the beach. The turtle in return offers to show its gratitude by taking the man to an underwater paradise. The man complies and spends a grandiose time, until one day he is prompted to return to his home above the sea. He is given a box as a token of gratitude, which he is warned not to open. When he returns home, he is unable to control his temptation and opens the mysterious box, only to realize that by doing so he has reawakened to a vastly changed reality, and that he himself has turned into an old man.

I feel like that man who has spent years abroad and upon returning to his origins he realizes that time has not stopped and the reality he was used to seeing no longer existed in its original form. Some things resemble its older form, but most have undergone an unrecognizable form of change. It's one thing when you can identify what kind of change has occurred, but unfortunately, there is an unsettling discomfort that lingers inside you when you are unable to say exactly what that change was. If you get what I mean.

All in all, however, it has been a good two weeks. The kids are starting to come in and coaching keeps me busy. I hope blogger keeps working on this computer so I can keep the updates going. Also, check out my flickr site (link is located in sidebar), there will be pictures there for you to view.
Read more!

From Calgary to San Francisco - Aug. 13

It has been a while, there were some techincal difficulties with updating my blog, so here it is, in all its glory: my life for the past few weeks.

My journey back to Tokyo, Japan, began with a painfully annoying experience of the competencies and incompetencies of airline companies. Newly installed in certain airports are so-called 'Self Check-in Booths', which I first encountered at Vancouver International. You stand in front of this slick machine, and swipe your passport or your airmiles card, and on the computer pops up your flight information. After a number of confirmation messages, the computer prints out your boarding pass, and all you have left to do is to take your check-in luggage to the counter and off you go. Solid. This efficient process was a nice welcome at Vancouver International, and again at Calgary International. Yet, what thwarted my all-encompassing admiration for this small glimpse into our near future of flying was nothing more than a single wake-up call. That is to say, United Airlines made it, literally, boldly clear on their website that passengers were to arrive a stunning three hours before departure time. For my 6:33am flight, this meant I had to be at the airport at a stomach-grueling, faint-inviting, vomit-inducing hour of 3:30am. There was no point in sleeping, so Al (oh, poor Al) and I stayed up all night, playing pool, watching Forrest Gump, making a song, and dozing.

Anyhow, the most frustrating part was that, despite the bloody early hour, responsible passengers like myself arrived promptly at the airport at 3am, only to be welcomed by not a single staff member of the airline companies. That certain security measures undertaken at this time (being post-9/11 and with the recent, successful aversion of the 'terrorist attack', which apparently took 12 years of planning and its instigators allegedly included a man 18 years of age...which meant this man had been planning this supposed attack from the age of 6, which is in itself a scary thought) take a long time is understandable. But to demand passengers to be up at 3am and not have the staff ready to check them in until at least 4:30am is ridiculous, and makes no logical sense. What was the point of making us wait an hour and a half?

This annoying logic was, of course, one of the many frustrations that haunted my journey. It took an additional 40 minutes to get through U.S. customs and security on the Canadian side (as it has been arranged), followed by carry-on luggage security, at which not only was my Legacy Games memorabilia swiss knife taken away (for obvious reasons; it was foolish of me to forget, but again, it was early), but I was selected for a thorough search which included taking everything out of my bag and getting a body pat-search. Of course, one wonders why I always get selected for these allegedly 'random' searches. In frustration I downed a tall caramel macchiato in under 15 minutes. I finally got on the plane, slept for 2.5 hours and landed at San Francisco International...on time!

At San Francisco I had a 3-hour layover. I treated myself to a bowl of udon for lunch, which was yummy, as I was fairly starved at this point. I had to go through carry-on luggage check again, and again I was treated to a thorough searching...and I didn't even beep when I walked through. Seriously, there must be an alarm siren ringing on top of my head and "I need to be searched" written across me. Two searches in under 5 hours is too much. Oh, and of course, they had to take my deodorant. Great, I thought, I'm cranky already, and now I have to smell. It passed U.S. customs the first round? As did my white-out pen. They almost took my mascara and my concealer, but the security officers had a 'debriefing' this morning, and they were told that mascaras and cosmetics as such were okay. But the deodorant and my white-out pen were confiscated the second round.

Lastly, Canadian loonies and toonies are globally useless. I have $12 in toonies left and have no idea what to do with them, as the currency exchange depot stopped taking them. I am at least 900 yen less than planned. Brutal! I tried to reason it out with the duty-free shop attendant, but she declined to listen. "Only bills, only bills," she said. Bah! F*&% you. Al, I'm sending you $12 in change, plus a handful
of dimes and nickels and pennies.
Read more!