Home, sweet home

Back to the old place – long since empty and cobwebbed.

Bye bye Hiro

See you in Sydney!!!!!!!

We’ll miss you.

The beginning, the end, the beginning of the end

I’m leaving Japan in a few weeks.

The finality of it is starting to hit me now – saying goodbye at my schools, last lessons, teachers prodding their classes to say “I’ll miss you”, sweet gifts from thoughtful coworkers, embarrassed sayonara speeches to the staff room in my poor Japanese…. Its a strange self-conscious feeling to go to a workplace you have known for the last four years thinking “I’ll never do this again”…. I’m not really sad though. It doesnt feel hugely emotional, just a little jarring. Like an ordinary day with a weird, very unordinary undercurrent. I have said goodbye to two schools now, three more to go…

On Friday night we had the JET Official “Goodbye Ceremony” – just five of us, me, Matt, Jason, Emlyn and Kate. JET has come down to this! The ceremony was over in 5 minutes – I gave an unprepared speech, they handed us nice letters of thanks and the little wooden mosaic boxes the Board of Education gives as standard gifts. Then we all went to cafe, and an izakaya, and talked about what a weird, transitional time it was – to have seen JET shrinking from 60 to 5 people, and to be one of the last ones standing. Some people thought it was sad – I didn’t. It’s just change. Anticlimactic though, going out with a whimper rather than a bang.

I was much sadder on Saturday night to say goodbye to my good friend Hiro, off to Sydney, although it was a great, fun night. The party had a punk theme (or so I had been told) so I bought some Uniqlo T-shirts, ripped them up and then pinned them back with oversized pink safety pins, and worked my hair into the best “punk” style I could muster. At Advocates the street was crowded with drinkers, and then we headed off to new bar “Rehab” around the corner for more drinking, and tearful goodbye speeches, before the crowd thinned for the last train. On a whim I decided to stay and pull an allnighter, and I was glad I did. We went to Arty Farty – its been ages, years since I was on that tiny, trashy, pulsing dancefloor at 3am – the place where I had met Daisuke almost three years ago 🙂 The crush of bodies and the cigarette smoke and testosterone and blasting pop music were second nature to me then, but don’t feel that way anymore. I sat with friend Tac outisde, chatting to some random Americans and Dominicans while we rested in the gutter opposite, shooting the breeze, before heading off to another bar “Monsoon” for a drink. By now the sun was rising, and I went back to “Rehab” to say goodbye to Hiro. He is leaving, I am leaving. It really felt like the end of an era – my carefree Tokyo party friends, the little gang I had danced with at Ageha and on Enoshima beach, the people I have had so much fun with, such great times with, heading our separate ways. One last dance in Nichome – scene of so many of my memorable moments and little dramas, before I would soon leave it behind for good.

Its just a few weeks now!

The Flower Temple

Kamakura’s Hasedera is famous as a “flower temple” – I had, by chance, arrived there once during the rainy season to find the small hilltop shrine, shaded by a bamboo grove, exploding with banks of blue and violet hydrangeas. It is quite stunning – or it would be, if there weren’t hordes of people, mostly elderly package tourists, absolutely everywhere.

I thought that I had missed the display this year, but apparently not. I probably caught the last few days of the hydrangeas. At another temple nearby, the heads of the flowers had already been savagely pruned off, and were lying rotting in heaps by the road. And yet even at the tail end of the season, at 11am on a hot Wednesday, there were more crowds than I would have liked.

 

As well as the hydrangea and bamboo gardens, the temple complex includes a terrace looking out over the rooftops of Kamakura to the sea, a quiet mossy graveyard where an eagle lay sunning himself, and a system of dark, damp caves, filled with tiny Buddha statues.

 

Raccoony!

Out jogging the other day, I saw a raccoon scuttling down a tree in a local schoolyard. I was kind of excited, because like squirrels, they are something we don’t have in Australia. It seems quite exotic. In fact I don’t think I have ever seen on before. I felt like I was on safari, and a herd of wildebeeste had just swept through my local shopping street.

Racoons are not native to Japan. They were introduced after a brief “pet boom” in the 1970s inspired by a  character on an animation of the time called “Racoon rascal”. After the fuss died down, people released the creatures en masse ( one individual alone set 40 of them free into the hills around Kamakura.) Today they cause 33 million yen worth of crop damage every year.

(The one I saw was much mangier than the one above, that I plucked off google images. It was long and skinny with dank, greasy colorless hair.)

The beginning of the end

This week the rains hit Tokyo. Storm clouds have been stealthily drifting up from Kyushu for a while now. The skies have been darkening.  And this week it started- the つゆ、or Rainy Season. For a few weeks it will be damp, and grey.  A few weeks of umbrellas dripping in hallways, and tough mornings to get out of bed, eternal vigilance against the scourge of bathroom mould.

The irises and hydrangeas will bloom in the royal flower gardens.

And then the rains will lift and Tokyo’s long, baking, humid  Summer will begin. But this year,　I’ll only be here for half of it. Its almost time – almost the end of JET. For a long time I had been scared of this transition – leaving Japan, and even more, leaving the insulated bubble of life on the JET Program, a life where I’m paid to do virtually nothing. Back to the real world of work responsibilities.

But, its time. Stressless though the job is, I am ready to leave. In the last six months I have found myself increasingly tired of it. Not the students so much, I realised, but the teachers. I’m tired of planning lessons and preparing lesson plans for teachers who don’t even read them, and make no effort to understand . I’m tired of working alongside high school teachers in their 50s, who have been doing this for thirty years, who still suck. I’m tired of seeing classes run with no goals, no curriculum and no clue. And I’m sick of working in a system that is so deeply flawed, no matter what I do, these children will never speak English.

Education to me is about opportunities, its about giving people chances. But the Japanese education system, I have come to realise, is about just the opposite. Its about sorting students and classifying them – putting them into their boxes and shipping them out into society to fill the niches they have been assigned. Corporate, service industries, blue-collar – its pretty much decided by the time each student is 12.  Schools are not about teaching math, or Japanese, and least of all English – they are about teaching students to “ganbaru”, to endure and to sacrifice,　getting them ready for boring lives and teaching them obedience to their groups -here clubs, later companies.

I have become cynical. It is time to go.

And yet, I will be back. I have accepted a job for three months as a university lecturer, from September to December. What this means, is that I will leave Japan in July – to three weeks in South East Asia, then arriving homein Oz  (at JET’s expense) jat the start of the Australian high school recruiting season. Perfect!  I have six weeks for interviews, then its back to Tokyo (at the new employers expense), three more months with Daisuke, a month and a half holidays over new year (and maybe another trip?) and back to start my new life as a high school teacher in Oz in January (if all goes well). Knock on wood. I’m pretty proud of myself so far – its a seamless, perfect plan. Brilliantly organised if I say so myself. Not a single week wasted,  or on the dole, no cashflow problems, and time for two overseas trips. And another paid sojourn to Japan in the meantime.　If　it　all　works　out,　I’lｌ give myself a big pat on the back….

 

Japan’s pet peeve

 

Japan is a country stumbling out of a long-term recession, with workers stressed and exhausted from outdated work practices, a ravished natural environment, poor relations with its neighbors and an unproductive education system. So it makes sense that there is one issue that captures the public imagination, and makes the blood of the Mr Yamamoto next door boil : yes, the sight of young women putting on makeup on public transport.

Obviously.

Personally I find it strange (and dangerous- who wants to apply a sharp mascara pencil on a bumpy crowded train?) But for many people it goes beyond that, to outright fury. They feel offended and violated that the fine line between public and private should be so blatantly disregarded, and that they be thrust, metaphorically, into some chick’s bathroom. Its a real hot-button issue.

And yet the practice is widespread. Its easy to see why. The patriachy. Japanese society still demands that its women be pretty  – or else. In many companies, including those that I have worked for, it is considered unprofessional for women to come to the office without a pancake-like layer of glittery foundation and crimson lips. Women in the workplace should be colorful and easy on the eyes – like potplants. That serve tea. I even know one late 30s woman whose mother is always nagging her to wear more makeup (so she can “find a husband”, natch)

So if you have to get up at 6.30 every morning to commute into your office from Saitama for an hour and a half, and you have a labor-intensive morning routine, it makes sense to multi-task.

So much so that the Subway company felt compelled to put up these billboards with their narcissistic lash-curling office lady, and the blunt slogan “Please. Do it at home.”

Moment of clarity

This weekend was a special occassion. Daisuke and I got to stay, in luxury, at the Grand Hyatt (one of the bf’s work perks). The hotel is the brand’s worldwide flagship property – the place where presidents and pop stars bunk down in Tokyo. And this weekend, we got to join them.

Its located in the ritzy Roppongi Hills complex next to a boulevard of twinkling lights and boutiques (like a mini-Harrods and a large Louis Vuitton) – the ground zero for Japan’s nouveau riche world of conspicous consumption.  (The HIlls complex is now 5 years old and  rebranding itself with the ludicrous-to-the-point-of-offensive slogan “Making You Creative”. Because really, what could be more creative than working at Leeman Brothers and hanging out in a highpriced yuppie mall?)

D had to head off for a work engagement, so I had a luxurious bath, got wasted on some complimentary wine and went for a (seriously buzzed) stroll down the slick boutique street.  I passed this piece of “modern art” – a huge bank of constantly changing, random numbers, brightly lit. I had been past before but not paying close attention, had assumed it was a clock. So much for producing a deep emotional reaction.

Hungry, I decided to try out (in the spirit of the night) an expense-account Thai place on the roof of a nearby thirteen storey building. It was all faux temple carvings, and elaborate flower arrangements floating in colored water, and piped xylophone music. Outside, through floor-to-ceiling windows, neon signs flashed and shimmered, reflected on the glass towers of leading accounting and insurance companies. Very Blade runner.  It was great fun. But the food, when it arrived, was terrible. It cost about US$80 (for one).

Still drunk and stumbling back to the hotel, I had a realisation. I realised that I really don’t need any of this. Sure, the Hyatt was nice, but it was just a hotel room…I thought it would be sexy and exciting, but really – was there that much difference from the economy lodge I’d stayed at last year in Osaka? Do I really need  expensive restaurants with middling food, and flashy corporate art, and brandnames on everything to make me happy? I mean its fun – of course. Staying in five star hotels is excellent, being able to splash out on things you dont really need – ludicrous things – is enjoyable. But do I NEED it?

When I was younger, I didnt think I did. I knew that being a teacher wasnt going to lead me to places like this – and I was OK with that. But getting older, I sometimes wonder. What if I really DO want this? What if I wake up one morning and think: “But – I DO want to live in Roppongi and shop at Harrods, and eat on top of skyscrapers?” What if I find myself trapped into a middle-payed profession I had chosen blindly out of naivity and idealism  – just because I enjoy it? What if I want to enjoy all of this? Will I find myself, locked out, peering in through the gates of a  glitzy, mall-laden metropolis of bankers in Starbucks, and afterwork drinks at Heartlands?

Its a scary thought, being left behind in a city where sometimes everyone seems to be an investment banker or an international sales manager, or a corporate lawyer.

 But heading back to my hotel room at the Hyatt, I felt contented. I was actually the surest I had felt in a long time that I had made the right choice.

Golden Week Report

Everyone’s favorite two-day holiday, “Golden Week,” is over for another year. I had a relaxing five days off (including the weekend and the national holiday in the previous week).  Not the kind of wild, debauched adventure that would make great blog copy (sorry) but you know, it was restful.

I saw a really scary movie (“Catacomb” with Pink!), and ate in Thai restaurants across town  indulging in my new fad for som tam and yam neu yang. (I think Mai-Thai in Ebisu is the city’s best. And smokiest).

I slashed my hand to blood and pus when I tripped jogging, (not that big a deal though, just f*kin annoying).

I met up with a cool, random American guy who was visiting from Berlin, after we chatted on the Lonely PLanet website (hi there, if you are reading!) and took him to my favorite over-the-top Baroque theme restaurant.

I slept well every night, and missed the NarziB fashion party in Shibuya, and the gay party at Ageha, and Junior Vasquez, and the “Bears and Muscleboys” party in Nichome , called “Bulk” (although I was a bit sad to let that one go).

I chatted with a Japanese Freudian analyst about dreams , and  with Ryu and Hiro at a cafe about when (if ever) it was appropriate to be mean to waiters and other service staff. We decided I was a bit of a pushover.

I discovered a batch of new neighborhoods – the winding little alleyways of Sangenjaya with their bars, and colorful little hole-in-the-wall shops, and unexpected vistas of King Kongs and amusing signs; a sleepy stretch of cute little cafes and hairdressers located down a winding hilly path from Daikanyama, shaded by banyan trees and mansions, (Aobadai-itchome); and a whole district of modern design and interior stores on Meguro-dori. I was looking there for what used to be  one of Tokyo’s most chi-chi hotels, The Claska (I just wanted to check out the bar), but its closed for reovations until 2009.

And everywhere, all over Tokyo, from every suburban street to the main thoroughfares of Shibuya, these purple flowers were blooming ( fuschias? gardenias? azaleas). After all the hype of the cherry blossoms these little shrubs get absolutely no love, but every year they pop up cheerily all over this city, announcing fun days ahead in the Sun. It was great to seem poking out their heads again….

She’s back

Last week it was just like old times, with Maimi back in town – we watched Youtube videos, went shopping, and ate Korean food in Shinokubo, and talked about she had got a new job, in a new city in a new country, half finished a masters and picked up a new language…while I was still here doing the same old thing. Sigh! But at the same time, talking together, it didn’t  feel like anything had really changed. I’m beginning to realise thats one of the ways to test a good friendship – if you can just pick it up after a break and it feesl totally natural – its real. It was great to have her back – natsukashii!!!!

On her last day, she, Toru, Daisuke and I went to a cafe in Ikejiri Ohashi, a trendy neighborhood bubbling slightly under the surface, one stop from Shibuya. In the middle of the neighborhood they are building this vast, freaky. concrete  Colliseum. In how many other cities could a thing like this go unnoticed?

Turns out, it is going to be a new circular freeway ramp with a rooftop park, and improbably, a huge new apartment block in the middle!

Maimi Vice

She’s back! Well, she was….

Getting old

Last weekend, I knew I was old. Daisuke and I had been given free passes to the opening of a new hiphop/reggae club, where Junko  – the Saitama born and bred world champion bootydancer  – was performing. Not having been out in a while, we were quite looking forward to it.

But by the time we had arrived in Shibuya around 10pm, we were already feeling tired, and it was cold outside…

We walked down the street of the club, in a strangely nondescript middle-of-nowhere-feeling area outside the little-known Shibuya Station New South Entrance. Quite a few clubs have sprouted up here by the train tracks, although you would hardly know it if you hadn’t been told. The street is mostly lined with big, anonymous office buildings and a massive bus station – only the all-night coffeeshop and 24 hour Mc Donalds give it away. And the crowd of super-young looking kids sitting in big groups on doorsteps, with floppy oversized black bows in their pink hair, and Mod fashions, and crazily mixed up layers of accessories. It looked fun and “Tokyo” and happening…and we realized it wasnt our party.

We were further down the block where a line of dour-looking dudes in sportswear dribbled out of a doorway. No crazy fashions and hardly any women I noticed, for a straight club. That’s the hip hop crowd for you.

Daisuke and I looked at each other, nodded in silent agreement, and gave away the flier to head home. Who wants to queue in the cold, just get into some party for free, when its not even particularly lavish or crazy-looking. Just ordinary-looking people have an ordinary-looking good time. Why bother, I thought? Then I realized I was old 😉

Daisuke’s new Brigit bardot-Spring-bedouin look…

…and going incognito…..

The random island: Daisuke’s Jeju-do report

Daisuke returned to Tokyo this week from his work trip to Korea’s Jeju-do Island with a bag full of duty-free cosmetics, a delicious, delicately sweet orange from island’s famous orange groves, and a bunch of amusing photos. The island, though cold, had been quite beautiful he said – sweeping beaches and volcanoes, roads lined with palm trees, hillside orchards, wildflowers and waterfalls. Strange then that a place so rich in natural beauty and culture (the famous women pearl divers, the mini-Easter Island like stone carvings) should feel the need to supplement its charms with such a random, gaudy collection of manmade attractions. On asking the way to the famous sex museum, he was told that actually there are three (!!!) – the infamous Loveland, the Eros museum, and the Museum of Sex and health. As well as a dinosaur park, a Cactus Land, two botanical gardens, a glitzy resort complex with statues of bronze deer and horses frolicking, and a Museum of African Art. Obviously.With so much to choose from, it was hard to pick a clear winner, but Daisuke went for the Teddy Bear Museum – where replicas of famous artworks are displayed,with teddy bears substituted into them. Classy.   Also check out these amusing toilet signs – rear wash and “front wash” with a picture of a lady!

Tower of Power

 The Olympic Tower in Komazawa Park is one of Tokyo’s weirdest structures. Built ( as the name suggests) for the 1964 Olympics, it presides over a  modernist plaza bounded by curving concrete gymnasia and angular reflecting ponds. It is twelve stories of angles, sharp corners and straight lines – kind of funky, but  fascist. It reminds me a lot of the movie “Aeon Flux”, or a spaceage Zoroastrian death tower, or a 1970s Zen pagoda if it were built in Brasilia. And it was here, two years ago, that Daisuke and I had our first “date” – chatting on the benches below. This week, on a freezing cold night, Daisuke called me back there. I had no idea why. There was a glowing full moon and the park was dark and empty except for a couple of teenage boys skating around the plaza, blasting (of all things) tango music from a beatbox. It was all so improbably romantic. And then Daisuke turned up and gave me a present…but its a secret! hahahaha Thanks babe 😉 xx 

“So Sweet” party pics

Check out

Comments : Leave a Comment »
Tags: clubs, Fashion, jet life, personal, tokyo
Categories : Uncategorized