Give me lines to draw.

Today, I finally got to play ultimate frisbee on a real dirt field. Grass was not to be had (in either way), but this marked the first time I've played on real God-made surface since I started playing frisbee on the artificial brick-turf all-purpose field behind one of the academic buildings. Were it not for Dan and a few other people from the Bedford and Concord area, it would probably have been years since I've just played casual Ultimate with a group of friends. I know it's been years since I've played casual Ultimate with you, Ashish---isn't that crazy? How is that possible? Man, I miss those days when we'd play against each other and you'd outrun me on successful cuts. Why didn't I play more back then? Too scared, too fragile... I never had the gusto for team sports.

One thing I'm not too good at is working together with people. I realized that today in relation to something over here in Japan, but for the life of me I can't remember what it is. It was a great example, and hopefully I'll recall what it was and put it here. But for now, it was just one of those brief, passing profound thoughts that you try to remember a day later and you just can't. This one was good blog material, though! It was the example that makes the proof, to put a mathematician's perspective on this. Ugh, what was it...

Ah, yes. It might have had something to do with not going to the 1 PM class that I was thinking of adding. Several of my most awesome friends here at Kansai are in that class, and after seeing an example of a reading that we would have to do, I shied away from entering the room. See, today was the deadline for adding classes, so I'll never have the chance to get in that class again. Furthermore, since I would've had to drop the sociology class I'm taking that's getting better recently, I wasn't sure I wanted to spend an hour and twenty minutes sitting in a class I might not like enough. I did that on Thursday and was reluctant to do it again. So I didn't go to the class. But then, after going downstairs and checking to see whether my credit request for the sociology class was approved (which it wasn't), I decided to go upstairs and enter if people were still entering. But everyone was already there, and though the bell hadn't rung yet, I was too much of a 恥ずかしがりや(hazukashigariya, shy/easily embarrassed person) to go through the introductions necessary for me to take a seat in that class at that time.

This, as you may be expecting, stirred some thought within me. I told myself, "Well, the second half of the semester would've been all student presentations, and you didn't want to sit through that, right?" Then I realized...

B: Yes, but you would've had the opportunity to commiserate and work with your friends in this class, and make it easier to hang out with them as a result.
A: But friends don't become friends through work. Don't you remember that? You believe that friends really feel like friends when there's time to chill and relax.
B: I think you really know who your friends are when you need them the most.
A: I think you need them the most when it's time to chill and relax. And sometimes the time to chill and relax for one person is not the same for the other, and that's when friendship really comes through.
B: True, but...

But what Bさん would point out to Aさん next is that maybe I didn't really want to bother with the work part. Maybe even the thought of working together was something I didn't want, even with friends.

But work can be art. The two are intersecting sets, and for sure the drawing of lines on the dirt of what became our Ultimate field was something I missed dearly from home: the opportunity to make art with other people. Yes, even that is art to me, and for some reason, I feel so much more alive now having played on a real, man-made field, lines drawn out and sunset drawn out to the end of the game.

When I played duets with people or accompanied them on the piano as they sung, that was undeniably art. Sometimes some things aren't as evidently art, but they're undeniably art to me. I think I've finally found a (new) good reason that I do so many random things and don't concentrate on one thing. Each thing, in its own way, is in some way art.

And for me, going to Japan and seeing Japan is not appreciating art. It's drawing a picture within this picture that's appreciating art. It's making it.

Aenigma

The other day I went to Nashinoki Shrine (梨木神社, nashinoki-jinja) in Kyoto with a friend of mine, a little shrine perfectly hidden on the east side of (the outside of, bien sûr) the Imperial Palace. I literally would've walked right past it had I not asked a woman passing by where it was. It was concealed underneath a fairly dense set of bamboo trees, and the entrance was quite narrow, as though the shrine never anticipated welcoming touristy foreigners. But inside, the shrine was a world of its own. The flowers on the shrine grounds didn't need the outside world's sunlight to bloom in full splendor. There was a walkway leading to the south gate lined with these flowering bushes that created the most serene picture my eyes have taken recently. Did my mind have to be serene too かなあ。。。(I wonder)... in order for the picture to be serene?

I wonder how many people are coming here in part to ease their minds. I don't know whether I did. I wonder how much Japan can help that.

We passed by the grounds surrounding the Imperial Palace. Abandoned. Nobody was there. It was quite a change, if for just a moment. I showed Huey the boulangerie (bakery; in Japanese パン屋/panya) I passed on the way to meeting her, and let me tell you, Japan needs more bakeries, because they do baking right, if at a little bit of an expensive price.

We walked down the river "to get water at the 100 yen store," but I think both of us just wanted to walk down the river. It was beautiful, utterly cool. Man, Kyoto's air is so much better than Boston's, in quality, at least. But if you opened a bottle in Boston, closed it and sent it for me to open over here, I bet that the pleasure that I would feel if the scent of Boston trigged memories of home, Tufts, and Boston would be significantly greater. Still, it was great to talk about that and then sit down and watch the fish jump to no avail against the waterfall created by a slight dam in the water. We strolled down further and saw a homeless woman and all her possessions in order next to the river. What does she do when it floods? I wondered. Then, I looked back, and the mountains in the background had suddenly grown in size. I observed this out loud, and Huey reminded me of the fact that the further you get from something, the more you want it; the bigger it looks.

We finally reached the 100-yen shop, and after that BOOK OFF, where I got a CD by the European dance artist Neja, who provided Boston with the hit "Back 4 the Morning" that Star 93.7 played until Star 93.7 ceased to exist. The CD didn't have that track on it, regrettably.

30 minutes later (I'm a slow shopper), we found a restaurant called Ootoya and got some delicious, cheaply priced food. Huey took pictures. My taste buds were pretty happy, and we returned home on the limited-express train from 三条駅(Sanjou-eki, Sanjo station). I waved goodbye, つかれた(tsukareta, tired), and biked home slow.

What's missing from this post?

On top of Kyoto

As I walked down a Kyoto street somewhat near 出町柳駅(Demachiyanagi station) on the Keihan line, listening to Yoyoy Villame sing how "according to our geography, Philippines is a great country," ...well, okay, nothing really happened, I just wanted to throw that out there.

Kyoto was great today. More tomorrow.

Japan and Europe

Kansai Gaidai University is a place where many international students come to study Japanese, and where many Japanese students come to study primarily English, among an assortment of other foreign languages. I have met people from Estonia (well, I haven't met him, but I know he's Estonian), Latvia, Sweden, South Africa, France, Germany, Finland, Oklahoma, and other foreign places. Oh yeah, and the Aussies.

For most of the Europeans I have brought up the topic of Eurovision. You know me. I can't help it. So far I have gotten negative reactions on Dima Bilan from both Russians, and the girl hates the Shady Lady because his composer is too flamboyant and ubiquitous. Outwardly I smiled, but I was frowning somewhere deep inside my little stomach. I informed the Latvian as to the pirate infestation in his country, and he said that it was a "fun song" after I played it for him from my iPod.

I have also met a Belgian girl. This was the most peculiar case. She, so far, is the only individual I've met who says she has trouble finding food she likes in Japan. That's crazy. I guess she isn't used to finding curry mysteriously inserted into what appears to be French bread at the bakery. Speaking of that, I should get my ass over there before the bakery closes.

And speaking of "ass" and other words, I realize that two blogs ago I have somewhat of a swear-laced, angsty tirade. That is okay. I think words are worth a thousand pictures, and this gives you a picture of what can go wrong when you're about 一万 (ichiman, ten thousand) miles from home, or wait, do I actually know how far I am from home? It doesn't matter, really. If I were talking to Japanese people about this, I'd have to convert it to キロ(kiro, kilometers or kilometres for all you Canadian spirits out there) first anyway. In any case, what I mean is that I can't guarantee I will convert to putting pictures in my blog, and I can't guarantee I'll keep it clean. The one thing I'll keep it is honest.

But let's go back about 23903キロ to ベルギー(berugi, Belgium). I had to look up the word for Belgium last night for my homework, because I was writing some sentence about how "since she's from Belgium, she can understand a lot of languages" or something, and I found this word among the search results: にっぱく, which has kanji 日白. This word means "Japan and Belgium." If you change the kanji to 日伯, the pronunciation stays the same (にっぱく, nippaku), and the meaning is "Japan and Brazil." What the hell?

Japan and Europe have some weird ways of coming together. Right now I am all excited about the fact that in mid-2009 there will be an Asiavision contest in the style of Eurovision, with similar logos, and it will have about 15 countries in Eastern Asia competing. I can't remember whether India's included, but I know Japan, China, Macao, Hong Kong, Indonesia and the Philippines will all be involved. That's tiiiight.

Bye bye!

Amen

Everything is much better with my host family now, or at least I'm 90% sure. I talked to the people at the CIE (Center for International Education) office here and got everything sorted out; they called my host family and everything's good.

Here's what happened. Remember the saga of the gym shorts? My homestay mother thought that these were, to quote the person who helped me out at the office, "the most precious pair of shorts" that I'd ever had and she thought it was totally her fault that she lost them. Well, I did give them to her to wash, or I'm pretty sure I did, but I gave her a hell of a lot of clothes, and since usually people don't wash so many clothes at a time here (they do laundry every day), it's really my fault that they're lost. NO idea where they went, but never mind; it's okay. Of course, even though I said "心配しないでください" (shinpai shinaide kudasai, don't worry), that's exactly what my host mother did. And I should've seen it coming.

That was just the first part. The second was that my host father observed that sometimes, at night, I will go downstairs and sneeze and have to blow my nose. Now picture two nights ago, 11:45 PM. I go downstairs because I think that maybe my room is too dusty or something, and I need to study for this important test that will determine whether I stay in the class that I managed to get into for Japanese reading and writing. My host father is waiting there like a cat to pounce on me. "鼻の病気がある？" (hana no byouki ga aru, do you have a cold affecting your nose), he says. I said no, it's probably an allergy to dust or something.

Stop. He whips out the form that I submitted to Kansai Gaidai before I came here, containing info integral to my homestay experience. He points out on the form that I didn't put down dust as one of my allergies. Now, this was one confusing conversation, and it's a pain to go over it again. I eventually figured out that I should tell him that in America, we don't really think of putting down dust as an allergy, because everyone has problems if there's too much dust. I wasn't gonna bother explaining how these problems manifest themselves differently, and for me it happens to be that I sneeze and have to blow my nose for a little while. I tried to explain how the laundry room was too dusty, and how my room's curtains might be too dusty (which they are). Also, I told him that maybe it's the cat dust blowing in from the outside when I open the window. (Hmm, I notice that yesterday when I came back the window was not open. Good thing. Again, this was two nights ago, so maybe this had an effect.) He was really frustrated this whole time and he asked me if I was okay at the Seminar House, where I stayed temporarily before the homestay. I realized that it kind of sounded like a suggestion that I should move out, and because he seemed angry and/or frustrated, it was scary. This was not good. He told me, "外大を相談して" (Gaidai o soudanshite, consult Kansai Gaidai). What the hell?

So after two hours of agonizing and studying, I went to bed. The next day, I was really sad and depressed (what was going on? why was he so tense last night? does this mean I won't be living in a homestay?), to be quite honest, and until I finally got help from Hashimoto-san at the CIE office that was not a fun day. Thank God for Hashimoto-san, by the way. Without her I wouldn't be very happy today either. I explained everything to her. My main problem, I said, was this: Why is it that they take these as major problems when for me they're such minor problems? They're just gym shorts and dust. Geez. She told me she was going to call them that night, which she did, and I feel much, much better now, and I hope my homestay family does too. They should. If Japanese people can't communicate with Japanese people, then I'm in trouble, but I'm pretty sure that they can communicate in Japanese much better than I can in between my Japanese and my English bailout explanations.

So that's what happened yesterday, forever endeavor amen.

You never thought about that, did you? "Forever and ever," "forever endeavor"... I think it'd be a good band name. So guess what; it's my band name now. And right now I'm the only one in the band. In other words, don't take my band name, homies.

Japan is good again. I am redeemed. Japan is redeemed.

In two words: culture shock. I guess I should've known it'd happen eventually. And it's a royal pain in the ass.