Sometimes when you're here, you feel so alone, but these are only moments. Soon after, you have so many options, so many thoughts, and so many different people to talk to. And to think I'm going to be leaving in only three months???
One day this week, it got colder, and I got sick. For one day. I told people, 気分が悪い(kibun ga warui, I feel sick), and that was enough for me to get asked several times that day and the next whether I was feeling okay. Yeah, I'm fine! I used that phrase (note the translation) because I didn't want people to equate my sickness with disease-spreading or bed-ridden connotations. The next day I felt fine, after nine and a half hours of quality sleep, despite that there is still enough dust to which I'm allergic on my blanket to circulate around the room and into my nose. Sleep can ignore the hell out of that. Sleep is one of the most marvelous things available to mankind, and I have learned to respect it more than anything in recent years.
When I asked one of my Japanese friends here where his friend was going, he said "Oh, he's first going to the hospital" and I was initially like, "the hospital??" Then, I remembered what my host family told me: the word for "the doctor's" and "the hospital" is one in the same. They are not separate from each other, even though in the US you know there's a pretty big difference between the two. That word is in the title of this post, and it's pronounced "byouin". "Biyouin," as pointed out by my Japanese textbook and probably all the others, means the hairdresser's, so you better make the "byo" part quick. But yeah, sickness and injury are a big deal here. Maybe this is my father's fault or the fault of whoever it was that told me that people here over-medicate, but I'm going to be sure to tell nobody that my wrist hurts because of frisbee today. You know that throw I can whip out where you backhand on the same side of your body as your throwing arm? Don't do it. It's useless and dangerous because the defender won't see it coming, and since you need it to be closer to the inside of your body to get all your strength, there's no way to get it around the defender and still have it be a strong throw. Unless you're really good. Oh well.
I seriously can't believe I'm going to be gone in three months. I think I'm the only person who's realized how true this is now, and make that less than three months. Geez, that's crazy! I don't know if I'm going to be able to make the parting happily. You know what I mean. I mean, what's in Paris besides the language? Ah, mais c'est beau...
I'm totally zoned in now on Japanese: speaking it, living it, hearing it. Also, I can't wait for the seasonal allergies to subside so that I can totally live in my house without having a sharp hay fever reaction to something in my room all the time.
Also, the best way to not get homesick (and to not suffer from allergies in your room) is to go to bed early. If it weren't for the fact that I'll probably be hanging around with Japanese friends later tonight, that's exactly what my schedule would be on this beautiful Friday. I hope it's not raining now, though. I still have to go back.
Lastly, sometimes desire hits me like a brick here. The best remedy for that, as non-sequitur as it may seem, is frisbee. Making every day a frisbee day makes every day a really awesome day. Man, there's this girl here who is so good at getting open and sooooo gentle and delicate that she kind of just flutters about. She gives the softest handshakes and high-fives ever. Man, I hope whoever she's in love with or whoever she falls in love with takes care of her and treats her right. She's the one I inadvertently smacked in the face when I made a high backhand throw right in front of my body instead of to the left side as it should've been. I'm so glad the bruise is gone or never got there! Also, I think she's stronger than she puts on; she certainly doesn't make that impression with any physical gestures. She's fantastic. And she's only one of the many cool people I've met here. Frisbee is the topping on the Gaidai blueberry muffin: you don't need the rest of the muffin, for one thing, and if you have desire, the Gaidai blueberry muffin is there. I love this place.
^____^
vendredi, septembre 26
lundi, septembre 22
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.
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?
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?
samedi, septembre 20
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.
Kyoto was great today. More tomorrow.
vendredi, septembre 19
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!
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!
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