I think it's clear I like to think of myself as a pretty tough kid. I think if you first met me, you wouldn't buy this and would think I was a fairly soft-spoken girl who wears a lot of skirts and high heels. I like to tell myself, though, that in circumstances that require it, I summon up the emergency spirit pretty well.
However, I have my share of personal phobias. I have discussed one of these at length previously. The other one is packing.
My sophomore roommate, Rachel, was a little astounded when-- after doing my best to keep my chin up through an up and down year-- I broke down at the end of the year sobbing when I tried to pack my stuff. She did an amazing job of being encouraging:
R: "Wow, Bree, it's terrific you folded that t-shirt. That must have been really challenging!"
B (sitting amidst the wreckage of her room, reluctantly folding): "This is impossible!"
R: "That's one less t-shirt to fold!"
B: "But how do I know how many t-shirts to fold? Maybe I should just get rid of them all!!!"
R: "I know, it's so hard."
Of course, she also offered to help many times. But the truth of my difficulty in packing renders this unviable. I'm pretty messy. I'm not diiirty; I don't like food mess or dirty clothes mess or mess to mix, but I tend to shove things in drawers.
And somehow, every time I try to pack, I force myself to go through the long process of sorting these things. I find a note from my best friend from 9th grade, discretely written in gel pen in math class. I think she was a universe to me once but we haven't talked in years and it's probably my fault. Then, I find love letters from an old boyfriend I lost touch with. Much too painful not to read. Then come the honors papers-- were they as good as I thought they were at the time? Better re-read...why did I forget Salinas' name!
In truth, I should just get rid of all this stuff so it stops slowing me down (except maybe my honors papers. I wrote them too recently to be too critical) but I like having a record of life too much.
Then there's the panic of cramming everything into a suitcase, etc. One would think I'd have come to gripes with all this after the past few months. In some ways, I'm a better packer. I get by on fewer clothes. I wear comfy things on planes and put my passport where it's easy to get. But, I'm no better at the normal life to suitcase stage.
I'm moving down to DC tomorrow, and spending tonight writing about packing instead of doing it. Predictable. I'll try to focus, but will probably finally finish posting about Japan.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Monday, January 7, 2008
Notes from the Granite State
I spent the last weekend canvassing in Manchester, New Hampshire with two good friends, and discovered that primary canvassing is much more fun than general election canvassing because there isn't really an enemy. At best, the primary is a "discussion" of what our country needs and what people want to see in a leader, and that's a fun conversation to have with people. Although I had a couple of the "is canvassing ever really effective" moments, I also had a slew of interesting conversations.
-I took a bus to the Manchester airport, and while waiting for my friend to arrive, I saw Patrick Murphy (D PA-8) who had endorsed Obama working the line of people going through pre-flight security, encouraging them to endorse his candidate. When it was his own turn to take out his laptop and place his shoes and blazer in the bin, he kept right on going, trying to persuade the airport security workers. It seemed like he was very successful in engaging them. While I'm no politician, I tried to use this as inspiration to engage with everyone, not just the people on my walk lists.
-A pretty cracked out young man buying cigarettes at a convenience store who wanted to talk with us and echoed back Democratic talking points. It's almost the first time I've gotten "liberal" talking points from someone who doesn't seem political invovled instead of "conservative" ones. Maybe we're doing a better job with message then we think we are.
-A young man who opened the door wearing tight boxer-briefs and a Temple University sweatshirt who wanted to compare Edwards and Clintons' anti-poverty agenda for 20 minutes and yet couldn't be bothered to put on pants before opening the door. Eye contact, eye contact.
-A Republican who was voting for Romney because he was the most "genuine" candidate. They are out there.
-I'm always a little amazed by how many voters seem to focus on personality over issues. Several older women wanted to talk about how Edwards was a "very nice man."
-We met a sherif who had done the security check for all the cars going into the debate who had gotten to briefly meet all the candidates. Most arrived in limos, although some came on their campaign buses and Ron Paul arrived in the backseat of an SUV. Only slightly more newsworthy than candidate eating habits, but an interesting slice of life.
-While waiting for lunch, an out-of-towner in a leather jacket asked me if I was working for Edwards (the sticker and the lit are sort of a give away). I said yes, and then launched into a more conversational version of my spiel. "Too bad the focus has been on Clinton and Obama," he said. I agreed, and we discussed the irresponsible media coverage throughout the campaign (at this point, I'm pretty disgusted by the Clinton treatment). At the end, I ventured to ask who he was supported. "Oh," he said, "Off the record, I'm a member of the irresponsible media."
-Saturday night, we went to a rally/visibility event downtown. At first, it was just us and a group of men from the steel workers union, who were funny and very interesting to talk to. The 'part' of the Democratic party I've had the most extended contact with as fellow campaigners is the, um, sushi eating, latte drinking part. (Incidentally, the same culinary propensities describe most of the Republicans I know. College towns.)
Many of them had worked on campaigns since 1972, and it was interesting to hear about their strategies and commitment because like churches, I think unions are such a credible force in the community that is much more effective at GOTV and persuasion than a campaign could be. I was surprised by the intensity of their hate for Senator Clinton even though they described themselves as lifelong, diehard Democrats.
As is to be expected, we didn't see eye-to-eye on protectionism, although we recent graduates kept our mouths shut. Trade seems like such a small rift within our party when the Republican party seems to be facing such an identity struggle.
One of the men seemed particularly concerned about the lack of women among their political leadership although he said 30-40 % of the union was female. It's encouraging that they are discussing the need to have a leadership that reflects the population it serves.
-The best one-liner of the weekend came from a young waitress at the Airport Diner in Manchester. She saw our stickers, then told us about her friend who wanted to vote for a Republican, probably Romney. "I said to her, 'Honey, you're a single mom. You aren't a Republican."
-I took a bus to the Manchester airport, and while waiting for my friend to arrive, I saw Patrick Murphy (D PA-8) who had endorsed Obama working the line of people going through pre-flight security, encouraging them to endorse his candidate. When it was his own turn to take out his laptop and place his shoes and blazer in the bin, he kept right on going, trying to persuade the airport security workers. It seemed like he was very successful in engaging them. While I'm no politician, I tried to use this as inspiration to engage with everyone, not just the people on my walk lists.
-A pretty cracked out young man buying cigarettes at a convenience store who wanted to talk with us and echoed back Democratic talking points. It's almost the first time I've gotten "liberal" talking points from someone who doesn't seem political invovled instead of "conservative" ones. Maybe we're doing a better job with message then we think we are.
-A young man who opened the door wearing tight boxer-briefs and a Temple University sweatshirt who wanted to compare Edwards and Clintons' anti-poverty agenda for 20 minutes and yet couldn't be bothered to put on pants before opening the door. Eye contact, eye contact.
-A Republican who was voting for Romney because he was the most "genuine" candidate. They are out there.
-I'm always a little amazed by how many voters seem to focus on personality over issues. Several older women wanted to talk about how Edwards was a "very nice man."
-We met a sherif who had done the security check for all the cars going into the debate who had gotten to briefly meet all the candidates. Most arrived in limos, although some came on their campaign buses and Ron Paul arrived in the backseat of an SUV. Only slightly more newsworthy than candidate eating habits, but an interesting slice of life.
-While waiting for lunch, an out-of-towner in a leather jacket asked me if I was working for Edwards (the sticker and the lit are sort of a give away). I said yes, and then launched into a more conversational version of my spiel. "Too bad the focus has been on Clinton and Obama," he said. I agreed, and we discussed the irresponsible media coverage throughout the campaign (at this point, I'm pretty disgusted by the Clinton treatment). At the end, I ventured to ask who he was supported. "Oh," he said, "Off the record, I'm a member of the irresponsible media."
-Saturday night, we went to a rally/visibility event downtown. At first, it was just us and a group of men from the steel workers union, who were funny and very interesting to talk to. The 'part' of the Democratic party I've had the most extended contact with as fellow campaigners is the, um, sushi eating, latte drinking part. (Incidentally, the same culinary propensities describe most of the Republicans I know. College towns.)
Many of them had worked on campaigns since 1972, and it was interesting to hear about their strategies and commitment because like churches, I think unions are such a credible force in the community that is much more effective at GOTV and persuasion than a campaign could be. I was surprised by the intensity of their hate for Senator Clinton even though they described themselves as lifelong, diehard Democrats.
As is to be expected, we didn't see eye-to-eye on protectionism, although we recent graduates kept our mouths shut. Trade seems like such a small rift within our party when the Republican party seems to be facing such an identity struggle.
One of the men seemed particularly concerned about the lack of women among their political leadership although he said 30-40 % of the union was female. It's encouraging that they are discussing the need to have a leadership that reflects the population it serves.
-The best one-liner of the weekend came from a young waitress at the Airport Diner in Manchester. She saw our stickers, then told us about her friend who wanted to vote for a Republican, probably Romney. "I said to her, 'Honey, you're a single mom. You aren't a Republican."
Etiquette for Canvassing
Although the old adage about not discussing politics at the dinner table or in polite company makes me a very rude person, I do think there is a need for greater etiquette concerning canvassing.
For those in heavily canvassed areas (any early primary or swing state), I can understand how frustrating and intrusive the repeated door knocks, phone calls and lit drops would be. While it's part of the price for getting to be more important than everyone else for months, there are things the geographically well-endowed can do to at least minimize the intrusion.
1) First off, you never have to answer a door for a canvasser. If you see them walking up and down your street and you just woke up, got out of the shower, have the flu or don't feel like talking, just don't get the door.
2) There's a more polite alternative to this strategy which will also grant you greater peace and quiet. You can hang a polite sign on your door which says "No canvassers, please." Alternate versions-- "no soliciting for my business, my vote, or my faith" or "don't knock-- sleeping baby" also work well.
a) This is MUCH more effective than telling individual canvassers to take you off their list. Campaigns are often a day or two (or more) behind in entering in data like that from canvassing. Additionally, people from several different campaigns or organizations (the frustration of not being able to coordinate with PACs in 2004 and covering the same turf: endless) may all be covering your neighborhood and they cannot coordinate with one another.
b) An even nicer twist on the sign is one which gives the canvassers the information they want. "No canvassers please. I plan to vote for candidate X" or "Please do not disturb. I'm firmly committed to voting on Election Day." Such specificity reduces the risk that the canvassers will 'code' you on their sheets as not home or undecided, and, with competent data entry, should take you off their phone banking lists.
c) If canvassers ignore such signs and still knock/ring the bell, carte blanche to be annoyed.
3) If you don't have a sign up and answer the door, please don't yell at canvassers. You can tell them you'd rather not speak to them, but there is no reason not to be civil. (In my experience, most people are very nice and supportive whether or not they agree with you, but the one person who shouts "GET OFF MY PORCH NOW" can ruin a day.)
For canvassers:
1) Don't walk on people's lawns. Use pathways.
2) Never, ever throw lit on people's lawns. Do you really want people picking up litter with your candidate's face all over it?
3) Similarly, place lit under a door mat, inside an outer door or secure it in some ways so that it is unlikely to blow away and become litter. However, don't EVER put lit in a mailbox. This is illegal.
4) Park in a place where you aren't in people's way. And if you have out of state plates, think about parking outside of your turf.
5) Ditch the script, speak from the heart, don't waste people' time, and get them talking. The most successful canvassing is a two way dialogue in which they speak at least as much as you do. This may not seem like an etiquette point, but it's rude to talk 'at' an equal.
6) Affirm turnout. Affirm participation, even by the opposition.
A pet peeve of mine is people in the crowd at rallies who get to the front by holding the "right" signs and then holding up signs for an opposition candidate as soon as the media showed. This technique was a favorite of Santorum's failed 2006 effort to hold on to his senate seat, and I was shocked to see Democrats doing it to other Democrats in New Hampshire. I think this is extremely tasteless and ineffective. It's important to remember that when you are out publicly supporting a candidate, everything you do reflects on that candidate. Undecided voters vote with their gut as much as their head, and being polite and charming leaves them with a favorable impression of your candidate. Being rude-- trampling lawns, littering, being overly aggressive-- does just the opposite. "Attack tactics" like destroying the lit of other candidates, etc, are even worse.
For those in heavily canvassed areas (any early primary or swing state), I can understand how frustrating and intrusive the repeated door knocks, phone calls and lit drops would be. While it's part of the price for getting to be more important than everyone else for months, there are things the geographically well-endowed can do to at least minimize the intrusion.
1) First off, you never have to answer a door for a canvasser. If you see them walking up and down your street and you just woke up, got out of the shower, have the flu or don't feel like talking, just don't get the door.
2) There's a more polite alternative to this strategy which will also grant you greater peace and quiet. You can hang a polite sign on your door which says "No canvassers, please." Alternate versions-- "no soliciting for my business, my vote, or my faith" or "don't knock-- sleeping baby" also work well.
a) This is MUCH more effective than telling individual canvassers to take you off their list. Campaigns are often a day or two (or more) behind in entering in data like that from canvassing. Additionally, people from several different campaigns or organizations (the frustration of not being able to coordinate with PACs in 2004 and covering the same turf: endless) may all be covering your neighborhood and they cannot coordinate with one another.
b) An even nicer twist on the sign is one which gives the canvassers the information they want. "No canvassers please. I plan to vote for candidate X" or "Please do not disturb. I'm firmly committed to voting on Election Day." Such specificity reduces the risk that the canvassers will 'code' you on their sheets as not home or undecided, and, with competent data entry, should take you off their phone banking lists.
c) If canvassers ignore such signs and still knock/ring the bell, carte blanche to be annoyed.
3) If you don't have a sign up and answer the door, please don't yell at canvassers. You can tell them you'd rather not speak to them, but there is no reason not to be civil. (In my experience, most people are very nice and supportive whether or not they agree with you, but the one person who shouts "GET OFF MY PORCH NOW" can ruin a day.)
For canvassers:
1) Don't walk on people's lawns. Use pathways.
2) Never, ever throw lit on people's lawns. Do you really want people picking up litter with your candidate's face all over it?
3) Similarly, place lit under a door mat, inside an outer door or secure it in some ways so that it is unlikely to blow away and become litter. However, don't EVER put lit in a mailbox. This is illegal.
4) Park in a place where you aren't in people's way. And if you have out of state plates, think about parking outside of your turf.
5) Ditch the script, speak from the heart, don't waste people' time, and get them talking. The most successful canvassing is a two way dialogue in which they speak at least as much as you do. This may not seem like an etiquette point, but it's rude to talk 'at' an equal.
6) Affirm turnout. Affirm participation, even by the opposition.
A pet peeve of mine is people in the crowd at rallies who get to the front by holding the "right" signs and then holding up signs for an opposition candidate as soon as the media showed. This technique was a favorite of Santorum's failed 2006 effort to hold on to his senate seat, and I was shocked to see Democrats doing it to other Democrats in New Hampshire. I think this is extremely tasteless and ineffective. It's important to remember that when you are out publicly supporting a candidate, everything you do reflects on that candidate. Undecided voters vote with their gut as much as their head, and being polite and charming leaves them with a favorable impression of your candidate. Being rude-- trampling lawns, littering, being overly aggressive-- does just the opposite. "Attack tactics" like destroying the lit of other candidates, etc, are even worse.
Friday, January 4, 2008
Kyoto II
I think the best way to see a new city is by foot, and we did a lot of that during my second day in Kyoto. The most exciting times in a new place aren't always the attractions you can read about in guide books and buy postcards of, but the neighborhoods you accidentally stumble into and aren't sure how to find again. I wish could capture that in here, but it's harder to describe a neighborhood than a site or a meal.
First we wandered around "new" downtown Kyoto, winding up in what I can only describe as a "covered bazaar" although I imagine there's a different term more appropriate to this part of the world. It had a mix of secondhand goods, new trendy shops and cute cafes. Rachel mentioned that one time she was in Kyoto, her father took a cooking lesson nearby with a young women who taught westerners to cook every weekend in exchange for the ingredients. At the end of the lesson, everyone sat down and ate the meal together. It seems like an usual (although attractive) arrangement, although I guess she benefited from the free food and the English practice. I guess it's also a way to make your life just a bit different in a very conformist society.
In the bazaar, I found a used bookstore where I bought four books for my flight for under twenty dollars. I was impressed by their selection, and I never would have known it was there.
After that, we took a train to the beginning of the "Philosopher's Walk," a path along a canal through the artist's quarters, named for a philosophy professor who used to walk the route every day while, well, philosophizing. It was a really beautiful stretch and there were interesting craft shops and temples along the way. Apparently, in the spring, the canal path is lined with blooming cherry trees. We stopped at a vegetarian coffee shop for lunch and Rachel and I argued about whether it was "so Burlington" or "so Northwest." The "Silver Pavilion" was along the start of the "Philosopher's Walk." It was supposed to be a counterpart to the Golden Pavilion, but they ran out of money before the silvering took place. It was made of dark wood and at the base of a forested hill and surrounded by zen gardens. Several of them had very large, complicated sand sculptures that were so well-kept that they looked like cement. I had to work really hard to resist the urge to touch one to make sure it was really sand.
At a temple on the other end, there were a lot of sculptures of frogs and other forest creatures. I know I've commented on the different attitude towards drinking in Japan before, but one thing that always surprises me about temples is the huge tanks of sake carefully concealed alongside the temple. I don't think the "blood and body of Christ" is an accurate comparision point but maybe it's a bit like all the ritual glasses of wine during passover.
At the end of the Philosopher's Walk, we were in a neat area with a lot of large old-fashioned buildings. Many of them have roof stone awnings (sorry I don't know a more technical term) that have a hump in the middle, slope down on either side, and curl up on the ends, sort of like the slope of a viking boat. We also saw a still functioning Roman aquaduct that made been built during the Meiji Restoration when Japanese architects were charged with the task of intimidating Western-style architecture. It was strange to see a Roman aquaduct loomig above the traditional Japanese rooftops. It would be a great National Geographic-style quiz: where in the world is this?
To be continued...
First we wandered around "new" downtown Kyoto, winding up in what I can only describe as a "covered bazaar" although I imagine there's a different term more appropriate to this part of the world. It had a mix of secondhand goods, new trendy shops and cute cafes. Rachel mentioned that one time she was in Kyoto, her father took a cooking lesson nearby with a young women who taught westerners to cook every weekend in exchange for the ingredients. At the end of the lesson, everyone sat down and ate the meal together. It seems like an usual (although attractive) arrangement, although I guess she benefited from the free food and the English practice. I guess it's also a way to make your life just a bit different in a very conformist society.
In the bazaar, I found a used bookstore where I bought four books for my flight for under twenty dollars. I was impressed by their selection, and I never would have known it was there.
After that, we took a train to the beginning of the "Philosopher's Walk," a path along a canal through the artist's quarters, named for a philosophy professor who used to walk the route every day while, well, philosophizing. It was a really beautiful stretch and there were interesting craft shops and temples along the way. Apparently, in the spring, the canal path is lined with blooming cherry trees. We stopped at a vegetarian coffee shop for lunch and Rachel and I argued about whether it was "so Burlington" or "so Northwest." The "Silver Pavilion" was along the start of the "Philosopher's Walk." It was supposed to be a counterpart to the Golden Pavilion, but they ran out of money before the silvering took place. It was made of dark wood and at the base of a forested hill and surrounded by zen gardens. Several of them had very large, complicated sand sculptures that were so well-kept that they looked like cement. I had to work really hard to resist the urge to touch one to make sure it was really sand.
At a temple on the other end, there were a lot of sculptures of frogs and other forest creatures. I know I've commented on the different attitude towards drinking in Japan before, but one thing that always surprises me about temples is the huge tanks of sake carefully concealed alongside the temple. I don't think the "blood and body of Christ" is an accurate comparision point but maybe it's a bit like all the ritual glasses of wine during passover.
At the end of the Philosopher's Walk, we were in a neat area with a lot of large old-fashioned buildings. Many of them have roof stone awnings (sorry I don't know a more technical term) that have a hump in the middle, slope down on either side, and curl up on the ends, sort of like the slope of a viking boat. We also saw a still functioning Roman aquaduct that made been built during the Meiji Restoration when Japanese architects were charged with the task of intimidating Western-style architecture. It was strange to see a Roman aquaduct loomig above the traditional Japanese rooftops. It would be a great National Geographic-style quiz: where in the world is this?
To be continued...
Thursday, January 3, 2008
Mythic Turnout
For most of the (short) time I've been politically conscious and active, the youth vote has been sort of like the green flash. The green flash is a light refraction that is supposed to occur just after sunset or before sunrise along the horizon line on the ocean. I've never seen it, but whenever I watch a sunset on the beach on Prince Edward Island, I suspect that this time, I might. Sometimes someone says they say it and everyone else assumes they just blinked.
Similarly, in 2004 and 2006, the youth were supposed to turn out. Much as I believed this, I had to later roll my eyes as youth political organizations claimed youth turnout this time around was special in this or that way in this particular district of this particular state. (I wish I had a saved email to show but I tend to delete things from non-swat mailing lists pronto. And yet I sign up for them.)
Despite being somewhat of an Edwards girl, I have to admit I'm pretty head over heels about Iowa. I find an Obama candidacy very exciting and the overwhelming overall turnout makes me optimistic about the general election. I think the youth vote statistics are the most exciting though. It was so frustrating to hear the way commentators questioned the value of Obama's youth support, as well as the "facebook users, not caucus goers" comment from the Clinton campaign, and the frustration stemmed from the fact that there was no good retort, no evidence to show that they weren't right. Maybe it's the youtube debates or Obama girl or maybe we are actually frustrated we've been at war for our entire adulthoods. At any rate, I hope the turnout trend continues...
(I also hope that bloggers keep making Chuck Norris-style jokes about the press' love for McCain.)
Green flash or no, I'll javascript try to keep down the redundant political commentary, but I'm headed to NH for the weekend, so there may be a brief pre-primary resurgence. I also still have a couple more Japan posts.
Similarly, in 2004 and 2006, the youth were supposed to turn out. Much as I believed this, I had to later roll my eyes as youth political organizations claimed youth turnout this time around was special in this or that way in this particular district of this particular state. (I wish I had a saved email to show but I tend to delete things from non-swat mailing lists pronto. And yet I sign up for them.)
Despite being somewhat of an Edwards girl, I have to admit I'm pretty head over heels about Iowa. I find an Obama candidacy very exciting and the overwhelming overall turnout makes me optimistic about the general election. I think the youth vote statistics are the most exciting though. It was so frustrating to hear the way commentators questioned the value of Obama's youth support, as well as the "facebook users, not caucus goers" comment from the Clinton campaign, and the frustration stemmed from the fact that there was no good retort, no evidence to show that they weren't right. Maybe it's the youtube debates or Obama girl or maybe we are actually frustrated we've been at war for our entire adulthoods. At any rate, I hope the turnout trend continues...
(I also hope that bloggers keep making Chuck Norris-style jokes about the press' love for McCain.)
Green flash or no, I'll javascript try to keep down the redundant political commentary, but I'm headed to NH for the weekend, so there may be a brief pre-primary resurgence. I also still have a couple more Japan posts.
Searches Invovling Gloogloo
Our host in Greece, Theo, used to refer to google as "gloogloo." As in, "Bree, gloogloo the capital of Azerbaijan for me."
I try not to rave too much about google analytics, because it's a vain hobby and I can also see how it could seem a little creepy. However, my very favorite feature is the one that allows you to see through which google searches people are directed to your blog.
I'm proud to be on the google list for some, like "nama gomi" and "the weepies happiness blogspot" and "pretty pink cheeks."
I figure I'm a disappointment to internet users who search for "knee sock fashion," "america's next top model," and "indian food eating with hands" (although I'll do that anytime, if anyone else is in the mood). I can't really answer questions like "why are my cheeks pink" although I wonder the same thing (but apparently it's pretty) and really really hope not be used as a definitive source on "latin american politics," "brady kiesling," "abortion," "laicism in france" or "kenyan situation" and "mombasa, kenya."
The searchers who looked typed in "jeans cheeks," "naked onsen" and "onsen naked" must be disappointed I'm not more of a photo essayist. Sorry.
I'm glad whoever searched for "adventure of cell phone" decided to keep reading, even though I try to keep my adventures and my cell phone isolated from one another as I never buy phone insurance plans.
I try not to rave too much about google analytics, because it's a vain hobby and I can also see how it could seem a little creepy. However, my very favorite feature is the one that allows you to see through which google searches people are directed to your blog.
I'm proud to be on the google list for some, like "nama gomi" and "the weepies happiness blogspot" and "pretty pink cheeks."
I figure I'm a disappointment to internet users who search for "knee sock fashion," "america's next top model," and "indian food eating with hands" (although I'll do that anytime, if anyone else is in the mood). I can't really answer questions like "why are my cheeks pink" although I wonder the same thing (but apparently it's pretty) and really really hope not be used as a definitive source on "latin american politics," "brady kiesling," "abortion," "laicism in france" or "kenyan situation" and "mombasa, kenya."
The searchers who looked typed in "jeans cheeks," "naked onsen" and "onsen naked" must be disappointed I'm not more of a photo essayist. Sorry.
I'm glad whoever searched for "adventure of cell phone" decided to keep reading, even though I try to keep my adventures and my cell phone isolated from one another as I never buy phone insurance plans.
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
Kenya riots
I didn't read the news at all while I was in New York for a pre-New Year gathering, and so I missed much of the early-post-election rioting in Kenya. I returned to ask my father what was happening in Pakistan and he mentioned that Kenya seemed to be in a more uncertain state of turmoil (and, for me, feels "closer to home"). I've been trying to do some catching up since being home, and this letter is helpful background for people who find themselves in a similar situation.
(After re-reading the letter, I do feel compelled to comment that the impression I got of Kibaki from Tanzanians wasn't nearly so positive. On the other hand, many of them love Museveni, especially in the northwest along the Ugandan border. Although I think a certain level of corruption is par for the course in a developing country, I also worry about the ideological commitment to democracy of anyone who learned the ropes under Daniel arop Moi, Kenya's former President and a poster child for corruption and consolidation of power. Kibaki seved as Moi's VP from 1978 to 1988 and recently appointed his former boss as a peace envoy to South Sudan.)
I wish I could watch Al Jazeera's coverage at the moment. I can't really grudge the primary coverage at the moment because Iowa and NH both happen in less than a week and I'm terribly excited and all, but what happens to Kenya is really quite important. I think we often think of strategically important nations just in terms of the Middle East, and Kenya may lack the claim to global signifigance of Turkey, Egypt or Iran. However, Kenya has been one of a few lynchpins of stability in a very volatile region. It's just south of-- and shares a border with--Sudan, Ethiopia and Somalia. It also borders Uganda, and is close to Rwanda, Burundi and the DRC. I believe that the air campaigns for Operations Restore Hope and Provide Relief were launched from Mombasa, Kenya.
Additionally, Kenya was colonized more "heavily" than the other countries in its "family" (Tanzania and Uganda) and as a result, has a higher percentage of English speakers (differences between the TZ and Kenya education systems has probably exacerbated this) and stronger infrastructure. It has been a regional leader for integration, immediately rolling back its border tariffs while allowing less-developed Tanzania and Uganda a phase-out period. Kenya is perceived as an industrial powerhouse in East Africa and is South Africa's primary competitor for the processed goods market in much of Eastern, Southern, and Central Africa. It's possible that larger scale on-going disruption could seriously harm the supply chain-- and I mean of food, not computer parts-- for much of the region.
At any rate, it looks as though a move away from democracy is a more likely outcome than continued instability, which is also a major setback for the region.
It's Obama's fatherland. I wish he'd stop picking on his allies and use this time in the spotlight to divert some addition to a truly divided country. Or someone else would. Maybe Iowa would welcome the change.
Edit (1/2/08): Here's a post from a former professor that discusses the way "tribalism" is being covered in the US press.
(After re-reading the letter, I do feel compelled to comment that the impression I got of Kibaki from Tanzanians wasn't nearly so positive. On the other hand, many of them love Museveni, especially in the northwest along the Ugandan border. Although I think a certain level of corruption is par for the course in a developing country, I also worry about the ideological commitment to democracy of anyone who learned the ropes under Daniel arop Moi, Kenya's former President and a poster child for corruption and consolidation of power. Kibaki seved as Moi's VP from 1978 to 1988 and recently appointed his former boss as a peace envoy to South Sudan.)
I wish I could watch Al Jazeera's coverage at the moment. I can't really grudge the primary coverage at the moment because Iowa and NH both happen in less than a week and I'm terribly excited and all, but what happens to Kenya is really quite important. I think we often think of strategically important nations just in terms of the Middle East, and Kenya may lack the claim to global signifigance of Turkey, Egypt or Iran. However, Kenya has been one of a few lynchpins of stability in a very volatile region. It's just south of-- and shares a border with--Sudan, Ethiopia and Somalia. It also borders Uganda, and is close to Rwanda, Burundi and the DRC. I believe that the air campaigns for Operations Restore Hope and Provide Relief were launched from Mombasa, Kenya.
Additionally, Kenya was colonized more "heavily" than the other countries in its "family" (Tanzania and Uganda) and as a result, has a higher percentage of English speakers (differences between the TZ and Kenya education systems has probably exacerbated this) and stronger infrastructure. It has been a regional leader for integration, immediately rolling back its border tariffs while allowing less-developed Tanzania and Uganda a phase-out period. Kenya is perceived as an industrial powerhouse in East Africa and is South Africa's primary competitor for the processed goods market in much of Eastern, Southern, and Central Africa. It's possible that larger scale on-going disruption could seriously harm the supply chain-- and I mean of food, not computer parts-- for much of the region.
At any rate, it looks as though a move away from democracy is a more likely outcome than continued instability, which is also a major setback for the region.
It's Obama's fatherland. I wish he'd stop picking on his allies and use this time in the spotlight to divert some addition to a truly divided country. Or someone else would. Maybe Iowa would welcome the change.
Edit (1/2/08): Here's a post from a former professor that discusses the way "tribalism" is being covered in the US press.
Friday, December 21, 2007
Kyoto I
Kyoto is a city with so many temples that at this time of year the whole city smells like a mix of wood fires and incense. It feels like a truly timeless city. I'm amazed by how everything in Japan seems to escape the plastic stamp of tourism-- the only junkie souvenirs are trinkets to protect wearers against traffic incidents and bad grades, and all barriers between people and the exhibits they look at are natural and blend in with the surroundings. This is particularly true in Kyoto, where most sites are shrines that are still actively in use. The streets are full of young women in Kyoto, and they aren't there for tourists to photograph. Some are contemporary geisha, others are maiko (geisha in training), but most are Japanese college students putting on their kimonos for a trip to the old capital.
I regretfully slept through most of the shinkansen (bullet train) to Kyoto, but Rachel woke me up at one point to point out Mount Fuji. We were very close to the base (although apparently there's a special magnifying effect at the time of year that makes it appear closer than it is), and it loomed crisp and snow-covered above the surrounding villages. I'm still not used to the sight of volcanic mountains as opposed to the ones formed by plates colliding-- it's strange to see a mountain standing all by itself, scraping the clouds, without being surrounded by other mountains.
After putting our bags in a locker in the train station, Rachel and I walked through the Gion district of old Kyoto. Gion developed in order to meet the needs of visitors to the Yasaka shrine, which was built in the the century, and historically has been the entertainment district.
It consisted of a series of winding, narrow, hilly streets full of visitors and merchants. Although some merchants sold novelty t-shirts with Japanese characters, others sold fans, kimono, kitchen sets, and I could imagine similar storefronts back in medieval times when Gion first developed. Several vendors sold sweet bean paste sweets wrapped in green tea-flavored mochi dough. Sweet bean paste is better than chocolate, and I've missed it since being home. In my excitement, I mistook a carefully sliced wax copy for a sample. Luckily I didn't damage it too much when I bit into it. Still an embarrassment to myself.
We then rode a series of old-fashioned trains outside of the city to see the Golden Temple. I apologize for the constant comparisions, but from time to time, I'm surprised by how much parts of Japan look like Arusha. I think it's just the low-lying buildings, a contrast in up-keep but probably built during the same post-war period set against the mountains and the occasional smell of wood smoke. If I knew more about plants, I might say the plants were similar too. Of course, there are major differences. I felt much less safe in Arusha than in Dar es Salaam, whereas Rachel and I didn't hesitate to walk two miles to the Golden Temple at dusk.
My Japanese friends have told me that the best time to view the Golden Temple is at dawn, but given the fact Japan is in sort of an artificial time zone, I expect that would mean waking up painfully early and probably before the trains were even running. We arrived at the Golden Temple just as the sun was setting over it, and the rays lit up the gold, brightening the temple's reflection in the surrounding pond. The pavilion was built as as a shogun villa in the 13th century and was later converted into a temple. In general, I think gold structures are usually a bad idea (see: gold palm trees in Dubai airport), but given the pavilion's well-forested setting, its gold leaf exterior was striking and entirely avoided Dubai-airportitis.
After that, we headed to a ryokan outside of the city for the night. We ordered sake to go with our dinner and the host asked Rachel if we'd prefer one "go" or two "gos." Rachel assumed a "go" was a drink and ordered two. We should have known this was a problem when the host looked shocked. For future reference: a "go" is one of the metal tea kettle containers sake comes in and one "go" is just fine for two or three people, post honors exam celebrations aside.
Kyoto adventures will continue tomorrow, along with other stuff. Have a very happy New Year!
I regretfully slept through most of the shinkansen (bullet train) to Kyoto, but Rachel woke me up at one point to point out Mount Fuji. We were very close to the base (although apparently there's a special magnifying effect at the time of year that makes it appear closer than it is), and it loomed crisp and snow-covered above the surrounding villages. I'm still not used to the sight of volcanic mountains as opposed to the ones formed by plates colliding-- it's strange to see a mountain standing all by itself, scraping the clouds, without being surrounded by other mountains.
After putting our bags in a locker in the train station, Rachel and I walked through the Gion district of old Kyoto. Gion developed in order to meet the needs of visitors to the Yasaka shrine, which was built in the the century, and historically has been the entertainment district.
It consisted of a series of winding, narrow, hilly streets full of visitors and merchants. Although some merchants sold novelty t-shirts with Japanese characters, others sold fans, kimono, kitchen sets, and I could imagine similar storefronts back in medieval times when Gion first developed. Several vendors sold sweet bean paste sweets wrapped in green tea-flavored mochi dough. Sweet bean paste is better than chocolate, and I've missed it since being home. In my excitement, I mistook a carefully sliced wax copy for a sample. Luckily I didn't damage it too much when I bit into it. Still an embarrassment to myself.
We then rode a series of old-fashioned trains outside of the city to see the Golden Temple. I apologize for the constant comparisions, but from time to time, I'm surprised by how much parts of Japan look like Arusha. I think it's just the low-lying buildings, a contrast in up-keep but probably built during the same post-war period set against the mountains and the occasional smell of wood smoke. If I knew more about plants, I might say the plants were similar too. Of course, there are major differences. I felt much less safe in Arusha than in Dar es Salaam, whereas Rachel and I didn't hesitate to walk two miles to the Golden Temple at dusk.
My Japanese friends have told me that the best time to view the Golden Temple is at dawn, but given the fact Japan is in sort of an artificial time zone, I expect that would mean waking up painfully early and probably before the trains were even running. We arrived at the Golden Temple just as the sun was setting over it, and the rays lit up the gold, brightening the temple's reflection in the surrounding pond. The pavilion was built as as a shogun villa in the 13th century and was later converted into a temple. In general, I think gold structures are usually a bad idea (see: gold palm trees in Dubai airport), but given the pavilion's well-forested setting, its gold leaf exterior was striking and entirely avoided Dubai-airportitis.
After that, we headed to a ryokan outside of the city for the night. We ordered sake to go with our dinner and the host asked Rachel if we'd prefer one "go" or two "gos." Rachel assumed a "go" was a drink and ordered two. We should have known this was a problem when the host looked shocked. For future reference: a "go" is one of the metal tea kettle containers sake comes in and one "go" is just fine for two or three people, post honors exam celebrations aside.
Kyoto adventures will continue tomorrow, along with other stuff. Have a very happy New Year!
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Home Sweet Home
I just arrived in Burlington a few hours ago and can happily report I survived my trip. My computer is mysteriously working again. I'm not terribly optimistic this trend will continue, although I can envision a scenario that looks something like this: My computer gets terribly homesick and, like a small child, doesn't have a way to tell me this. Instead of engaging in productive dialogue about how it misses English-speaking computers, it instead throws a fit and ignores all commands from me. Now we are home, it is behaving better.
During the trip home, I slept pretty much whenever the plane was in motion. I even slept through meals, which is a first. Plane food is rarely good, but once I got this delicious masala-and-mini-chapati dish on an Emirates flight that was actually spicy. As a result of this experience, I'm eternally hopeful. I also like looking at how it's all packaged, although that seems less ingenious post-Japan then it did before.
The hardest part of the trip was the UAE layover, which was around 17 hours. It was much too long to wait in the airport, but I had huge bags and there were no lockers in sight. This September, I'd rarely thought of the UAE as a beautiful place, but the cab ride from Dubai to Abu Dhabi proved to me just how beautiful it was at the time of year. It even looked as though it had rained recently and there were tons of flowers along the edge of the highway. I read three books while waiting in the Abu Dhabi airport and got rounds of Turkish coffee with a succession of Lebanese guys going home for Christmas.
When I finally landed in Vermont, there was snow all over the runway, which was lit up by low-lying indigo lights, Tokyo club style. There must be almost a foot of snow all over the ground. It feels really good to be home and see my parents. It's time for some horizontal sleeping now (the best kind), but I plan to write about Kyoto and Osaka tomorrowish.
During the trip home, I slept pretty much whenever the plane was in motion. I even slept through meals, which is a first. Plane food is rarely good, but once I got this delicious masala-and-mini-chapati dish on an Emirates flight that was actually spicy. As a result of this experience, I'm eternally hopeful. I also like looking at how it's all packaged, although that seems less ingenious post-Japan then it did before.
The hardest part of the trip was the UAE layover, which was around 17 hours. It was much too long to wait in the airport, but I had huge bags and there were no lockers in sight. This September, I'd rarely thought of the UAE as a beautiful place, but the cab ride from Dubai to Abu Dhabi proved to me just how beautiful it was at the time of year. It even looked as though it had rained recently and there were tons of flowers along the edge of the highway. I read three books while waiting in the Abu Dhabi airport and got rounds of Turkish coffee with a succession of Lebanese guys going home for Christmas.
When I finally landed in Vermont, there was snow all over the runway, which was lit up by low-lying indigo lights, Tokyo club style. There must be almost a foot of snow all over the ground. It feels really good to be home and see my parents. It's time for some horizontal sleeping now (the best kind), but I plan to write about Kyoto and Osaka tomorrowish.
The Remains of the Would-Be Novelist
I read “The Remains of the Day” by Kazuo Ishiguro during part of my layover in the UAE and loved it. For those who haven't read it, it's the story of a British butler who was employed by a British lord accused of having Nazi sympathies during the interwar period. The frame for the story is the butler's road trip across England, during which he reflects back on his past.
I went through a stage where I tried to write short stories about anti-heroes. An anti-hero is very different from a villain. The anti-hero is a good person who wants deeply to do the right thing but attaches himself to a futile, worthless or sinister cause without realizing it and lives his life in vain.
The literary hero can also take wrong actions, but there is a process of struggle and realization present in the hero that can only come to the anti-hero at the end. The conflict undergirdding the classic hero narrative is the hero’s struggle with his wrong choices; whereas the conflict framing the plot of the antiheroic tale is the anti-hero’s struggle to perform his unheroic actions and win his unepic battles. In this sense, Ian McEwan’s novel “ The Innocent” is not an unheroic tale, but instead a story about a hero who commits great evil and who the reader must sympathize with anyway and feel we could do no other were we in his shoes.
In general, I only like stories where the writer accords her characters with a certain amount of respect; I find Nicholas Hornby addictive but it took me a little while to get over his shabby (but hysterical) treatment of his protagonists. I think Ishiguro is particularly masterful in “Remains of the Day” because he treats his main character with so much respect, and forces readers to feel concern for the daily drama of the butler.
I went through a stage where I tried to write short stories about anti-heroes. An anti-hero is very different from a villain. The anti-hero is a good person who wants deeply to do the right thing but attaches himself to a futile, worthless or sinister cause without realizing it and lives his life in vain.
The literary hero can also take wrong actions, but there is a process of struggle and realization present in the hero that can only come to the anti-hero at the end. The conflict undergirdding the classic hero narrative is the hero’s struggle with his wrong choices; whereas the conflict framing the plot of the antiheroic tale is the anti-hero’s struggle to perform his unheroic actions and win his unepic battles. In this sense, Ian McEwan’s novel “ The Innocent” is not an unheroic tale, but instead a story about a hero who commits great evil and who the reader must sympathize with anyway and feel we could do no other were we in his shoes.
In general, I only like stories where the writer accords her characters with a certain amount of respect; I find Nicholas Hornby addictive but it took me a little while to get over his shabby (but hysterical) treatment of his protagonists. I think Ishiguro is particularly masterful in “Remains of the Day” because he treats his main character with so much respect, and forces readers to feel concern for the daily drama of the butler.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
My Life as An Airline Food Reviewer
I mentioned earlier that there's a reasonable way to fly home from Japan and an unreasonable one. Due to complications ensuing from the fact that my return ticket was purchased back when we thought we'd be in the UAE for the year, I believe my itinerary blazes new trails into the absurd. One of my friends joked that it sounded like my sister was just showing off how many cities she knew.
Tomorrow morning, I head to Kyoto with Rachel by shinkansen (bullet train). After spending two days there, I'm going to Osaka, then flying from Osaka to Dubai. I have a nineteen hour layover in the UAE, during which I have to take a cab from Dubai to Abu Dhabi. I fly from Abu Dhabi to Frankfurt where I have a six hour layover, Frankfurt to DC, and DC to VT. The odyssey spans three days and three airlines.
It's basically an accelerated version of the last four months of my life in reverse, and it would be nice to think this literary symmetry would be reflective and filled with deep thoughts about space and time. I suspect all I will be thinking about is how much I want to change out of my clothes and lie down all the way.
I'm extremely excited to go home, but am also getting a bit sad to be leaving Japan. I've gotten pretty close to Brett and Rachel and I'll miss living with them and their exuberant golden retriever, Abby. I have a bad track record with recent departures: I cried when I left Swat, I cried when I left DC and I cried when I left Vermont. I have a feeling the trend will continue.
I doubt I'll post while in transit, but I'm planning to post about Kyoto, Osaka, the trip and what I think of the term 'global citizen' when I get home. I also have some ongoing thoughts about civil society and participatory/popular democracy I've been meaning to write about for a while as soon as I can organize my thinking better. Maybe I'll be inspired to write transit survival advice.
Tomorrow morning, I head to Kyoto with Rachel by shinkansen (bullet train). After spending two days there, I'm going to Osaka, then flying from Osaka to Dubai. I have a nineteen hour layover in the UAE, during which I have to take a cab from Dubai to Abu Dhabi. I fly from Abu Dhabi to Frankfurt where I have a six hour layover, Frankfurt to DC, and DC to VT. The odyssey spans three days and three airlines.
It's basically an accelerated version of the last four months of my life in reverse, and it would be nice to think this literary symmetry would be reflective and filled with deep thoughts about space and time. I suspect all I will be thinking about is how much I want to change out of my clothes and lie down all the way.
I'm extremely excited to go home, but am also getting a bit sad to be leaving Japan. I've gotten pretty close to Brett and Rachel and I'll miss living with them and their exuberant golden retriever, Abby. I have a bad track record with recent departures: I cried when I left Swat, I cried when I left DC and I cried when I left Vermont. I have a feeling the trend will continue.
I doubt I'll post while in transit, but I'm planning to post about Kyoto, Osaka, the trip and what I think of the term 'global citizen' when I get home. I also have some ongoing thoughts about civil society and participatory/popular democracy I've been meaning to write about for a while as soon as I can organize my thinking better. Maybe I'll be inspired to write transit survival advice.
The Kindness of Strangers
This evening, I went to a party in Tokyo with some people from Brett's work and others I'd met at the party last week. In general, people don't have the space in their apartments to host large gatherings, so people rent out rooms for these events. The room was dimly lit by purple and blue lights close to the floor and there were couches along all the walls with banquet tables of food in the middle.
I asked one young woman about her job, and she said she was a "socialist." I was a little confused and asked if she worked for the socialist party. She was confused in turn and pulled up her phone dictionary (yet another feature of the amazing Japanese cell phone) and reported back that she worked on "personal affairs." Mysteries I may never solve.
One thing that struck me throughout all the conversations was how hard the average young Japanese professional (yjpie) works. Many of the people I talked to reported waking up at six am and getting home from work at ten. A couple said they rarely got home before one or two. I'd dismiss this as hyperbole, but everytime I ride the train, I see people falling asleep while standing up. I've wondered why Japan isn't higher on quality of life indexes (The Economist puts it at 17, behind the United States, Italy, and Singapore among others). The hours worked must be part of the answer. A lot of the people my age I talked to were interested in improving their English so as to get jobs with foreign companies, which offer comparatively flexible hours.
I was really touched by the inclusiveness and kindness of the people at the party. There was a moment when I didn't have anyone to talk to, and a girl named Hiromi came over and grabbed me by the wrist and led me across the room to a table with her friends. She then rearranged the table so I was sitting between the two English speakers while pouring everyone a round of drinks. I'd met Hiromi for the first time that night, and we'd had a conversation in which we revealed that the extent of our ability to understand each other was to say we didn't understand and laugh about it. Despite this, she broke Japanese taboos against boldness and physical contact to help an outsider feel less alone.
I used to intern at the refugee relocation center in Vermont, and the volunteer coordinator, Judy Scott, always said she had felt drawn towards helping new Vermonters because her own children traveled so much and were so dependent on the kindness of strangers. For me, the draw was that these were people who'd repeatedly lost everything through no fault of their own.
After spending more time abroad, I can appreciate the reciprocal framework too. I'm a grateful beneficary of the kindness of strangers. Sometimes this is bittersweet, like when the people in a dusty Sukuma village south of Lake Victoria wouldn't let us leave until they'd filled the trunk of our car with sweet potatoes, even though it was clear they had nothing else to eat. Other times, it's just plain sweet, like all the people who have made me feel a more like a friend than a stranger.
I asked one young woman about her job, and she said she was a "socialist." I was a little confused and asked if she worked for the socialist party. She was confused in turn and pulled up her phone dictionary (yet another feature of the amazing Japanese cell phone) and reported back that she worked on "personal affairs." Mysteries I may never solve.
One thing that struck me throughout all the conversations was how hard the average young Japanese professional (yjpie) works. Many of the people I talked to reported waking up at six am and getting home from work at ten. A couple said they rarely got home before one or two. I'd dismiss this as hyperbole, but everytime I ride the train, I see people falling asleep while standing up. I've wondered why Japan isn't higher on quality of life indexes (The Economist puts it at 17, behind the United States, Italy, and Singapore among others). The hours worked must be part of the answer. A lot of the people my age I talked to were interested in improving their English so as to get jobs with foreign companies, which offer comparatively flexible hours.
I was really touched by the inclusiveness and kindness of the people at the party. There was a moment when I didn't have anyone to talk to, and a girl named Hiromi came over and grabbed me by the wrist and led me across the room to a table with her friends. She then rearranged the table so I was sitting between the two English speakers while pouring everyone a round of drinks. I'd met Hiromi for the first time that night, and we'd had a conversation in which we revealed that the extent of our ability to understand each other was to say we didn't understand and laugh about it. Despite this, she broke Japanese taboos against boldness and physical contact to help an outsider feel less alone.
I used to intern at the refugee relocation center in Vermont, and the volunteer coordinator, Judy Scott, always said she had felt drawn towards helping new Vermonters because her own children traveled so much and were so dependent on the kindness of strangers. For me, the draw was that these were people who'd repeatedly lost everything through no fault of their own.
After spending more time abroad, I can appreciate the reciprocal framework too. I'm a grateful beneficary of the kindness of strangers. Sometimes this is bittersweet, like when the people in a dusty Sukuma village south of Lake Victoria wouldn't let us leave until they'd filled the trunk of our car with sweet potatoes, even though it was clear they had nothing else to eat. Other times, it's just plain sweet, like all the people who have made me feel a more like a friend than a stranger.
Friday, December 14, 2007
The Kanagawa Wrap Up
I have one day left in Yokohama, and then will be headed out to spend two days in Kyoto and a day in Osaka before flying back to the states. (I'll post more about my crazy trip home soon, but let's put it this way: There is a reasonable way to return home from Japan. It invovles a flight across the Pacific and a brief stopover on the West Coast. This is not the way I'm going home-- I'm going the unreasonable way.)I took Rachel and Brett out to the Korean bbq today to thank them for their hospitality, and was once again bowed over by the deliciousness. Meat aside, I'd eat grilled onions all by themsleves.
Just when I think I've got Japan better figured out, I made two mistakes today. I took the train the wrong direction from Yokohama-- a trip I make almost four or five times a week-- towards Mitomirai instead of Kikuna. It was luckily easily fixed, but I am still an embarassment to myself. The Korean bbq place we go to is called Xzcaca (I'm sure it's spelled differently, sorry) but I asked Rachel, "How long does it take to get to Yukata?" Hi boss, how long does it take to disrobe?
Tomorrow will probably be absorbed by packing and cleaning, and then an office party in Tokyo. I found out most of Brett's office thinks I'm pretty cute, which is flattering. Another perk of being exotic.
Japan is my second full-on experience with being in a racial minority, and I don't think I've found the experience as striking or as illuminating as I would have expected. It hasn't really helped me to understand what it's like to be a racial minority in America at all. When in Tanzania, our whiteness and racial difference really stood out to one of my friends, but I felt like we stood out due to our privilege before our race. (In a poor country, I don't think money is any harder to read than skin color.)I was never as conscious of my paleness as I was of the money in my belt. I don't think we should assume race is an inherently meaningful distinction but it assumes meaning in relation to the symbols and history associated with it.
Japan is known for being a relatively closed society, and there are many policies which can apparently make life hard for foreigners. Landlords sometimes refuse to rent to them on the grounds that they won't understand how to properly sort the trash (to be fair, it's a complicated system). Sometimes, their parents have to vouch for them before they can participate in programs, and people often need Japanese sponsors before they can rent apartments. In Okinawa, there are bars where foreigners aren't allowed because of drunken incidents near the bases.
I haven't experienced any of degree of this (and am also not trying to rent an apartment). Every time I consider going clothes shopping, I'm somewhat bitterly reminded of real physical differences, and babies tend to stare at me on trains (this is definitely another perk of being exotic because the babies are so cute). In general, though, I feel like the degree to which I "stand out" in Japan is more complimentary than alienating. I think it's akin to the pretty exchange student from the former Soviet bloc who doesn't speak English treatment.
Language can be a huge alienating factor though. The other day, while we were making our bookings for the Kyoto trip, all the travel agents were mysteriously on the phone when our number was called. The manager bustled over, and when Rachel demonstrated that she could speak Japanese, agents were instantly free. I don't think this is xenophobia; people are just afraid of making a mistake and doing their job badly.
In addition to friends and family, cheese, gym workouts, and my red coat, I'm really looking forward to being able to understand all the conversations and read all the signs at home. Information overload has its own appeal.
Just when I think I've got Japan better figured out, I made two mistakes today. I took the train the wrong direction from Yokohama-- a trip I make almost four or five times a week-- towards Mitomirai instead of Kikuna. It was luckily easily fixed, but I am still an embarassment to myself. The Korean bbq place we go to is called Xzcaca (I'm sure it's spelled differently, sorry) but I asked Rachel, "How long does it take to get to Yukata?" Hi boss, how long does it take to disrobe?
Tomorrow will probably be absorbed by packing and cleaning, and then an office party in Tokyo. I found out most of Brett's office thinks I'm pretty cute, which is flattering. Another perk of being exotic.
Japan is my second full-on experience with being in a racial minority, and I don't think I've found the experience as striking or as illuminating as I would have expected. It hasn't really helped me to understand what it's like to be a racial minority in America at all. When in Tanzania, our whiteness and racial difference really stood out to one of my friends, but I felt like we stood out due to our privilege before our race. (In a poor country, I don't think money is any harder to read than skin color.)I was never as conscious of my paleness as I was of the money in my belt. I don't think we should assume race is an inherently meaningful distinction but it assumes meaning in relation to the symbols and history associated with it.
Japan is known for being a relatively closed society, and there are many policies which can apparently make life hard for foreigners. Landlords sometimes refuse to rent to them on the grounds that they won't understand how to properly sort the trash (to be fair, it's a complicated system). Sometimes, their parents have to vouch for them before they can participate in programs, and people often need Japanese sponsors before they can rent apartments. In Okinawa, there are bars where foreigners aren't allowed because of drunken incidents near the bases.
I haven't experienced any of degree of this (and am also not trying to rent an apartment). Every time I consider going clothes shopping, I'm somewhat bitterly reminded of real physical differences, and babies tend to stare at me on trains (this is definitely another perk of being exotic because the babies are so cute). In general, though, I feel like the degree to which I "stand out" in Japan is more complimentary than alienating. I think it's akin to the pretty exchange student from the former Soviet bloc who doesn't speak English treatment.
Language can be a huge alienating factor though. The other day, while we were making our bookings for the Kyoto trip, all the travel agents were mysteriously on the phone when our number was called. The manager bustled over, and when Rachel demonstrated that she could speak Japanese, agents were instantly free. I don't think this is xenophobia; people are just afraid of making a mistake and doing their job badly.
In addition to friends and family, cheese, gym workouts, and my red coat, I'm really looking forward to being able to understand all the conversations and read all the signs at home. Information overload has its own appeal.
All Gone to Look for America
Instead of packing today, I made a playlist for my trip, which is almost the same as packing.
Going Home Mix
1) Closer to Me (Dar Williams)
2) Carmen Sandiago (Rockapella-- completely breaks the tone of the mix, but oh well)
3) Leaving on a Jet Plane (John Denver--ok, Chantal Kreviazuk)
4) Unwritten (Natasha Bedingfield)
5) All That I Want (The Weepies)
6) The Blessings (Dar Williams)
7) Hotel Song (Regina Spektor)
8) America (Simon and Garfunkel)
9) California (Joni Mitchell)
10) Iowa (Dar Williams)
11) Omaha (Counting Crows-- strong opinion: someone needs to write a Vermont song but I have a sustained ten year love for this song)
12) So Close to My Heart (Dar Williams)
13) Happiness (The Weepies)
14) Heaven When We're Home (The Wailing Jennies)
The Daily Gazette ran an article about my friend Jon and other swatties serving in the military. I think the article slightly misrepresents Jon's interest in the military--I think he sees economic diversity within the armed services as as critical a goal as political diversity-- but it's an interesting topic.
Going Home Mix
1) Closer to Me (Dar Williams)
2) Carmen Sandiago (Rockapella-- completely breaks the tone of the mix, but oh well)
3) Leaving on a Jet Plane (John Denver--ok, Chantal Kreviazuk)
4) Unwritten (Natasha Bedingfield)
5) All That I Want (The Weepies)
6) The Blessings (Dar Williams)
7) Hotel Song (Regina Spektor)
8) America (Simon and Garfunkel)
9) California (Joni Mitchell)
10) Iowa (Dar Williams)
11) Omaha (Counting Crows-- strong opinion: someone needs to write a Vermont song but I have a sustained ten year love for this song)
12) So Close to My Heart (Dar Williams)
13) Happiness (The Weepies)
14) Heaven When We're Home (The Wailing Jennies)
The Daily Gazette ran an article about my friend Jon and other swatties serving in the military. I think the article slightly misrepresents Jon's interest in the military--I think he sees economic diversity within the armed services as as critical a goal as political diversity-- but it's an interesting topic.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
The Idiot Reader
When I was a freshman, I took a creative writing workshop with Gregory Frost in which we coined the term "idiot reader." For every story shared in a workshop of twevle, there is always someone who just can't gain purchase on your style or material. I love minimalist prose and understated endings, but will reject a story without a second chance if the author doesn't let me get inside the character, or deliberately creates an unsympathetic character even though I understand this can be a stylistic choice.
Announcing "I think I'm the idiot reader" is a way to explain you were unable to connect with a story without directly criticizing the author's stylistic choices or content. If a writer has several idiot readers, they then may want to reassess.
I'm sometimes the idiot reader outside my fiction workshop. Cars are sexy? I'm the idiot reader. Umbrellas are useful? Idiot reader (and a stubborn one). Diamonds are pretty? Idiot reader.
I discovered today I'm also the idiot reader when it comes to the importance of tracing Alexander the Great's family tree. Let me backtrack. I was fantasizing about trips I could take the summer before grad school, and started looking for Silk Road backpacking trips. This led me to look up the Kalash, an ethnic group living in Chitral, Pakistan, near China.
There's a lot of contraversy over whether the Kalash are the descendents of Alexander the Great, a claim they themselves make. Some visitors have found similarities between them and ancient Greeks, and as always, there's the Western fascination with a fair complexioned group where it isn't expected.
I am in no position to assess the acccuracy of this claim, although it sounds plausible given a lack of contact with other groups (mountaineous region). I'd sort of doubt cultural similarities would last that long in isolation, but the Kalash have such a distinct religion that makes me wonder.
The wikipedia talk page on the Kalash takes me head on into the first Alexander the Great contraversy I can't understand (I'm only the idiot reader as to the importance of this connection-- I can understand why it's interesting), the Macedonia/FYROM controversy. Sure enough, whenever the Kalash are discussed, the Macedonians and Greeks go at it in the forums.
I've never really understood the search for the lost tribes of Israel-- but I can also understand how if you're Pashtun or Ethiopian, having your family discovered and aided by a wealthy country is a plus. Therefore, I can understand part of why it's a powerful and contested identity struggle.
I like speculating about the waves of early human migration in a Kon-tiki kind of way, but I get nervous when origins are traced back to shadowy legendary events, like the Hamitic Myth in Rwanda. 19th century explorer John Speke postulated that the Tutsi were a superior invading class not-native to Rwanda descended from Noah's son Ham. This myth informed the entrenchment of an ethnic division under colonial rule. I also wonder if the poor treatment the Hazara in Afghanistan recieved under the Taliban was in part justified by the legend that they were descended from remnants of Gengis Khan's army, installed in Afghanistan through brutality.
But the birthplace and descendants of Alexander the Great? I'm struggling to understand even sinister or commercial explanations for why this is so contested. I'm the idiot reader.
Edit: Maybe it's about proving early "civilizedness," sort of like Afrocentrism and the split over Egypt? Gotta love conquering as a yardstick of advancement.
Announcing "I think I'm the idiot reader" is a way to explain you were unable to connect with a story without directly criticizing the author's stylistic choices or content. If a writer has several idiot readers, they then may want to reassess.
I'm sometimes the idiot reader outside my fiction workshop. Cars are sexy? I'm the idiot reader. Umbrellas are useful? Idiot reader (and a stubborn one). Diamonds are pretty? Idiot reader.
I discovered today I'm also the idiot reader when it comes to the importance of tracing Alexander the Great's family tree. Let me backtrack. I was fantasizing about trips I could take the summer before grad school, and started looking for Silk Road backpacking trips. This led me to look up the Kalash, an ethnic group living in Chitral, Pakistan, near China.
There's a lot of contraversy over whether the Kalash are the descendents of Alexander the Great, a claim they themselves make. Some visitors have found similarities between them and ancient Greeks, and as always, there's the Western fascination with a fair complexioned group where it isn't expected.
I am in no position to assess the acccuracy of this claim, although it sounds plausible given a lack of contact with other groups (mountaineous region). I'd sort of doubt cultural similarities would last that long in isolation, but the Kalash have such a distinct religion that makes me wonder.
The wikipedia talk page on the Kalash takes me head on into the first Alexander the Great contraversy I can't understand (I'm only the idiot reader as to the importance of this connection-- I can understand why it's interesting), the Macedonia/FYROM controversy. Sure enough, whenever the Kalash are discussed, the Macedonians and Greeks go at it in the forums.
I've never really understood the search for the lost tribes of Israel-- but I can also understand how if you're Pashtun or Ethiopian, having your family discovered and aided by a wealthy country is a plus. Therefore, I can understand part of why it's a powerful and contested identity struggle.
I like speculating about the waves of early human migration in a Kon-tiki kind of way, but I get nervous when origins are traced back to shadowy legendary events, like the Hamitic Myth in Rwanda. 19th century explorer John Speke postulated that the Tutsi were a superior invading class not-native to Rwanda descended from Noah's son Ham. This myth informed the entrenchment of an ethnic division under colonial rule. I also wonder if the poor treatment the Hazara in Afghanistan recieved under the Taliban was in part justified by the legend that they were descended from remnants of Gengis Khan's army, installed in Afghanistan through brutality.
But the birthplace and descendants of Alexander the Great? I'm struggling to understand even sinister or commercial explanations for why this is so contested. I'm the idiot reader.
Edit: Maybe it's about proving early "civilizedness," sort of like Afrocentrism and the split over Egypt? Gotta love conquering as a yardstick of advancement.
Hakone, Ryokans and Onsens
This past Monday and Tuesday, I went up to Hakone, a mountaneous area south of Yokohama that is famous for its hot springs. To get there, we had to go on two local trains, and then a little red switchback train through the mountains.
Fall seems to come a bit later in Japan (apparently it also takes longer to get warm in the spring) and like everywhere else, Japan's been experiencing unusua climate patterns lately. Even though it was early December, it felt like early-October-in-Vermont in Hakone. All the trees were turning orange and red and the air had that crisp mountain feel. As we went into the mountains, I could almost pretend I was back home, except volcanic mountains (which I don't think I'd ever seen before) are shaped really differently from VT mountains. Volcanic mountains are much more dramatically shaped and less sloping. I still think northwestern Tanzania looks more like Vermont than anywhere else I've been. As we got further into the mountains, we could see steam pouring off some of the slopes, a sign of volcanic activity.
We got off the train at Gora, the last stop before the monorail. It seems Hakone revovles around the hot springs (onsens) and the domestic--and few foreign tourists--who come to use them. There was also a large local handicraft industry fueled by the onsen traffic. We walked by a huge open air sculpture museum that had pieces by Rodin (my favorite), Calder and Picasso. It looked pretty cool in the dramatic setting-- there was even a cool midair walkway over a cliff--but it seemed a little odd to put a museum so far from urban centers where most people could access it. We also saw what may be my all-time favorite cafe concept--it centered around a foot hot bath that people sat around while they enjoyed food and drinks.
As it was getting dark, we checked into our ryokan. A ryokan is a traditional Japanese inn with tatami mat floors where everyone sleeps on futons on the floor. It's very elegant and customer service oriented. Every room is assigned a maid, and when you check in, you tell the front desk what time you would like dinner and breakfast served at. The maid brings in your courses at the appointed times, and then clears the table and lays out your futons (which are stored in a closet) while you are in the onsen. (The experience also reminded me how weird it feels not to tip here, but it's very taboo.)
Our ryokan was located in the valley below the nearest train station. We checked in at the top of the train station, and rode this little cable car down through the forest for five or six minutes to get to the ryokan. It was located right on the hot springs, a spread-out clump of pale buildings with red trim just on the edge of the cliff.
After drinking tea in our room, we put on our yukata (a yukata is roughly the same shape as a kimono, but it is made out of thin cotton. It's a bit like a thin, long bathrobe with kimono sleeves. It's important to cross the left side over the right side-- the reverse cross is only done on the dead) and our hopi (kimono sleeved bed jackets that tie at the waist) and headed down to the onsen. I struggled a little to put on my split toe socks, but by the end of the visit, I mastered it. Our maid scolded us if we left our room without our hopi for fear we'd catch cold.
In contemporary Japan, onsen for men and women are almost always seperated, but my understanding is that before the occupation, unisex public baths were common. The onsen itself is procedure heavy, and there were lots of signs explaining the process in English, Japanese, and naked-person-cartoon (I guess it doesn't quite count as a manga). First, after undressing, everyone squats on wooden stools about 9 inches off the ground in front of a series of faucets (this is probably among the most unflattering positions ever, but were I more properly focused on thoroughly cleaning my toenails--a Herculean task for sure-- I wouldn't have noticed). After a very through scrub and rinse, one enters the onsen. A critical point of etiquette as highlighted by the signs is "let's not dunk our towels into the onsen." I was a little mystified as to why this was even a concern, but I guess it's more of a problem on the men's side where "vanity towels" are common during the scrubbing. The towel then is positioned on the head while in the onsen.
There are indoor pools which are VERY hot and outdoor polls that are quite hot. I prefered the outdoor pools because as it got darker, I could look up and see the stars, and I liked the contrast of the very cold air and the hot water on my skin. There was also a great view of the springs from the bath itself. Although I went to a Turkish bath once to clean up after an all night bus ride, this was my first time seeing a hot springs, and I really enjoyed it. We went in before and after dinner and breakfast the next day. My skin still feels very soft.
Meals were both very good and kind of terrifying. It's considered very rude to not finish all the food, and can result in not being invited back. However, Rachel and Brett are both allergic to shellfish, so we plastic-bagged and flushed a lot of food. We felt a little guilty about this because it's all very fresh, gourmet Japanese food, but it's also very intimidating. Dinner consisted of assorted sashimi (including really good tuna), tofu with a silver of beef decorated with pine nuts, an abalone with mushrooms and peppers that cooked on a burner at each place, mini ramen, a dumpling in a soup, tempura crab, plum wine and many other things I forget. One 'goal' of the ryokan is to never show you the same serving/eating dish twice, and the dishes everything came on were equally beautiful. My favorite was shaped like a boat.
I haven't really adapted to the Japanese attitude towards rice. I'm alright with rice as a vehicle, but in general, I stop eating my rice when I run out of curry to soak it in, and I believe the optimal curry to rice ratio is very high. I can taste the difference between good rice and horrible rice, but I'm blurry on the whole spectrum. In Japan, rice is the most important part of the meal and is often served after the rest of the food, intended to be eaten all by itself or with pickled vegetables. I was entirely too full to eat my rice (bad Japanese person!) and considered the plastic bag approach before Brett voluntered (good Japanese person!).
Breakfast was pretty difficult. I'd bragged to Julie I had no qualms about a tuna onigiri in the morning, but a steaming tofu-fish pudding was another story and Brett and Rachel took pity on me. Please don't take my non-picky eater card away. I'll do better next time, and I did enjoy a broth-with-clams, a mini omelet dumpling in broth, and even a small fish with its head and tail. (Come on, everyone, you know that's really scary. It's almost a live fish. Even though it doesn't smell fishy, there's the knowledge it COULD smell fishy. I could have eaten some part not intended to be eaten. I couldn't tell the nama gomi from the delicious. Also, fish look kind of like monsters when they are dead.) It was actually very good.
Almost everyone staying at our onsen--except us and an Iranian man named Jimmy who was married to a Canadian Japanese woman-- was Japanese, so it was cool to get the traditional Japanese ryokan experience. I debated whether going to an onsen was a good choice given the limited amount of time I had, but Brett and Rachel were enthusiastic and it was a really good trip.
After a final dip, Brett had to head into Tokyo for a business meeting and Rachel and I took the train up to Gora, and then took a monorail/funnicula/cable car higher up the mountain. It was much colder up there, and even though the sky was perfectly clear, there were drops of rain. I've tried to look this up online to no avail, but my best guess is that it is volcanic steam condensing. After exploring and enjoying the view, we hiked down to Gora and then did some shopping before heading home.
Fall seems to come a bit later in Japan (apparently it also takes longer to get warm in the spring) and like everywhere else, Japan's been experiencing unusua climate patterns lately. Even though it was early December, it felt like early-October-in-Vermont in Hakone. All the trees were turning orange and red and the air had that crisp mountain feel. As we went into the mountains, I could almost pretend I was back home, except volcanic mountains (which I don't think I'd ever seen before) are shaped really differently from VT mountains. Volcanic mountains are much more dramatically shaped and less sloping. I still think northwestern Tanzania looks more like Vermont than anywhere else I've been. As we got further into the mountains, we could see steam pouring off some of the slopes, a sign of volcanic activity.
We got off the train at Gora, the last stop before the monorail. It seems Hakone revovles around the hot springs (onsens) and the domestic--and few foreign tourists--who come to use them. There was also a large local handicraft industry fueled by the onsen traffic. We walked by a huge open air sculpture museum that had pieces by Rodin (my favorite), Calder and Picasso. It looked pretty cool in the dramatic setting-- there was even a cool midair walkway over a cliff--but it seemed a little odd to put a museum so far from urban centers where most people could access it. We also saw what may be my all-time favorite cafe concept--it centered around a foot hot bath that people sat around while they enjoyed food and drinks.
As it was getting dark, we checked into our ryokan. A ryokan is a traditional Japanese inn with tatami mat floors where everyone sleeps on futons on the floor. It's very elegant and customer service oriented. Every room is assigned a maid, and when you check in, you tell the front desk what time you would like dinner and breakfast served at. The maid brings in your courses at the appointed times, and then clears the table and lays out your futons (which are stored in a closet) while you are in the onsen. (The experience also reminded me how weird it feels not to tip here, but it's very taboo.)
Our ryokan was located in the valley below the nearest train station. We checked in at the top of the train station, and rode this little cable car down through the forest for five or six minutes to get to the ryokan. It was located right on the hot springs, a spread-out clump of pale buildings with red trim just on the edge of the cliff.
After drinking tea in our room, we put on our yukata (a yukata is roughly the same shape as a kimono, but it is made out of thin cotton. It's a bit like a thin, long bathrobe with kimono sleeves. It's important to cross the left side over the right side-- the reverse cross is only done on the dead) and our hopi (kimono sleeved bed jackets that tie at the waist) and headed down to the onsen. I struggled a little to put on my split toe socks, but by the end of the visit, I mastered it. Our maid scolded us if we left our room without our hopi for fear we'd catch cold.
In contemporary Japan, onsen for men and women are almost always seperated, but my understanding is that before the occupation, unisex public baths were common. The onsen itself is procedure heavy, and there were lots of signs explaining the process in English, Japanese, and naked-person-cartoon (I guess it doesn't quite count as a manga). First, after undressing, everyone squats on wooden stools about 9 inches off the ground in front of a series of faucets (this is probably among the most unflattering positions ever, but were I more properly focused on thoroughly cleaning my toenails--a Herculean task for sure-- I wouldn't have noticed). After a very through scrub and rinse, one enters the onsen. A critical point of etiquette as highlighted by the signs is "let's not dunk our towels into the onsen." I was a little mystified as to why this was even a concern, but I guess it's more of a problem on the men's side where "vanity towels" are common during the scrubbing. The towel then is positioned on the head while in the onsen.
There are indoor pools which are VERY hot and outdoor polls that are quite hot. I prefered the outdoor pools because as it got darker, I could look up and see the stars, and I liked the contrast of the very cold air and the hot water on my skin. There was also a great view of the springs from the bath itself. Although I went to a Turkish bath once to clean up after an all night bus ride, this was my first time seeing a hot springs, and I really enjoyed it. We went in before and after dinner and breakfast the next day. My skin still feels very soft.
Meals were both very good and kind of terrifying. It's considered very rude to not finish all the food, and can result in not being invited back. However, Rachel and Brett are both allergic to shellfish, so we plastic-bagged and flushed a lot of food. We felt a little guilty about this because it's all very fresh, gourmet Japanese food, but it's also very intimidating. Dinner consisted of assorted sashimi (including really good tuna), tofu with a silver of beef decorated with pine nuts, an abalone with mushrooms and peppers that cooked on a burner at each place, mini ramen, a dumpling in a soup, tempura crab, plum wine and many other things I forget. One 'goal' of the ryokan is to never show you the same serving/eating dish twice, and the dishes everything came on were equally beautiful. My favorite was shaped like a boat.
I haven't really adapted to the Japanese attitude towards rice. I'm alright with rice as a vehicle, but in general, I stop eating my rice when I run out of curry to soak it in, and I believe the optimal curry to rice ratio is very high. I can taste the difference between good rice and horrible rice, but I'm blurry on the whole spectrum. In Japan, rice is the most important part of the meal and is often served after the rest of the food, intended to be eaten all by itself or with pickled vegetables. I was entirely too full to eat my rice (bad Japanese person!) and considered the plastic bag approach before Brett voluntered (good Japanese person!).
Breakfast was pretty difficult. I'd bragged to Julie I had no qualms about a tuna onigiri in the morning, but a steaming tofu-fish pudding was another story and Brett and Rachel took pity on me. Please don't take my non-picky eater card away. I'll do better next time, and I did enjoy a broth-with-clams, a mini omelet dumpling in broth, and even a small fish with its head and tail. (Come on, everyone, you know that's really scary. It's almost a live fish. Even though it doesn't smell fishy, there's the knowledge it COULD smell fishy. I could have eaten some part not intended to be eaten. I couldn't tell the nama gomi from the delicious. Also, fish look kind of like monsters when they are dead.) It was actually very good.
Almost everyone staying at our onsen--except us and an Iranian man named Jimmy who was married to a Canadian Japanese woman-- was Japanese, so it was cool to get the traditional Japanese ryokan experience. I debated whether going to an onsen was a good choice given the limited amount of time I had, but Brett and Rachel were enthusiastic and it was a really good trip.
After a final dip, Brett had to head into Tokyo for a business meeting and Rachel and I took the train up to Gora, and then took a monorail/funnicula/cable car higher up the mountain. It was much colder up there, and even though the sky was perfectly clear, there were drops of rain. I've tried to look this up online to no avail, but my best guess is that it is volcanic steam condensing. After exploring and enjoying the view, we hiked down to Gora and then did some shopping before heading home.
Sunday, December 9, 2007
We Will Rock You
Today I went into Tokyo to meet up with Julie, a fellow Truman, who’s from Wisconsin and who has just embarked on a post-graduate trip around the world with two friends. They are starting out in Tokyo, then going to South Korea, Australia, New Zealand, India, Nepal, Thailand, South Africa, Kenya, Uganda, and Rwanda. I got a East Africa craving just thinking about it. It was really nice to see Julie.
We spent the afternoon wandering around a park between Harajuku and Shinjuku. The park had a major pedestrian thoroughfare which was lined by bands playing and people performing. The bands typically played for exposure, not money, although some were also selling CDs. Crowds gathered around better bands, sitting down or standing in a circle around silently clapping (at first we clapped too loudly and everyone stared at us). Male bands were almost exclusively watched by females, and vice versa. I'm struggling to capture the degree of interesting chaos, so I'll revert to a list. Particularly noteworthy were:
-a group of people dressed in jeans and plaid (think Sixteen Feet) doing heavily choreographed “footloose” style dancing while filmed.
-Two people doing karoke to Queen’s “We Will Rock You” alongside the street.
-Five particularly pretty Japanese boys in dark jeans and leather jackets danced and played invisible instruments to a string of hit songs. Mysterically, the instruments disasppeared—and the song continued—whenever the chorus came on and they danced to it.
-Several tiny dogs on a bench wearing sunglasses and matching sweaters.
-A bunch of Amnesty volunteers wearing bright orange jackets urged us to “get in bed for Darfur.” They had a huge make-shift bed and they were talking pictures of people in it holding up signs calling for intervention in Darfur. They would then send all the pictures to the UN. I’ve seen college groups adopt the same picture taking strategy with pledge signs, but this was definitely one step further. Julie and I happily got in the bed (how could you not) and held up the signs. Make love, not war. I think this was the first CSO I’ve seen in Japan, which was interesting in itself. I wished we had more language in common, because I’m curious what their base of support is like, how much coverage Darfur gets in the Japanese news, and what the position of the Japanese government is. I guess I can look the latter up online.
-Men dressed as frogs, cartoon characters, and horses with reindeer antlers.
-While listening to the bands, the Japanese girls danced by making small jumps from side to side. I might be able to do that! I have a feeling I’d wind up coming down on someone’s foot though.
--Julie’s friends who live in Japan have a comedy routine, and had a sign with them that said “Hugs—500 Yen.” They used it to bargain at the flea market and to get in a ‘fight’ with a Japanese improve group.
It was a colder day than I was prepared for, so on my way home I got in touch with my inner Japanese schoolgirl and bought a pair of knee socks.
On Friday night, I went to a “young person’s party” in Tokyo which very similar to every other good house party I’ve been to. I met a Japanese guy who, lo and behold, had attended Springhurst elementary, my alma mater, a couple years before I had. I also met two Japanese girls who’d just graduated from American colleges. One of them attended Hofstra University and had a thick Jersey accent—something I never expected to hear in Japan.
I want to post more, but I have to get up early to go to Hakonei tomorrow. I'm not taking a laptop with me, but will be back by Tuesday night, Japan time.
We spent the afternoon wandering around a park between Harajuku and Shinjuku. The park had a major pedestrian thoroughfare which was lined by bands playing and people performing. The bands typically played for exposure, not money, although some were also selling CDs. Crowds gathered around better bands, sitting down or standing in a circle around silently clapping (at first we clapped too loudly and everyone stared at us). Male bands were almost exclusively watched by females, and vice versa. I'm struggling to capture the degree of interesting chaos, so I'll revert to a list. Particularly noteworthy were:
-a group of people dressed in jeans and plaid (think Sixteen Feet) doing heavily choreographed “footloose” style dancing while filmed.
-Two people doing karoke to Queen’s “We Will Rock You” alongside the street.
-Five particularly pretty Japanese boys in dark jeans and leather jackets danced and played invisible instruments to a string of hit songs. Mysterically, the instruments disasppeared—and the song continued—whenever the chorus came on and they danced to it.
-Several tiny dogs on a bench wearing sunglasses and matching sweaters.
-A bunch of Amnesty volunteers wearing bright orange jackets urged us to “get in bed for Darfur.” They had a huge make-shift bed and they were talking pictures of people in it holding up signs calling for intervention in Darfur. They would then send all the pictures to the UN. I’ve seen college groups adopt the same picture taking strategy with pledge signs, but this was definitely one step further. Julie and I happily got in the bed (how could you not) and held up the signs. Make love, not war. I think this was the first CSO I’ve seen in Japan, which was interesting in itself. I wished we had more language in common, because I’m curious what their base of support is like, how much coverage Darfur gets in the Japanese news, and what the position of the Japanese government is. I guess I can look the latter up online.
-Men dressed as frogs, cartoon characters, and horses with reindeer antlers.
-While listening to the bands, the Japanese girls danced by making small jumps from side to side. I might be able to do that! I have a feeling I’d wind up coming down on someone’s foot though.
--Julie’s friends who live in Japan have a comedy routine, and had a sign with them that said “Hugs—500 Yen.” They used it to bargain at the flea market and to get in a ‘fight’ with a Japanese improve group.
It was a colder day than I was prepared for, so on my way home I got in touch with my inner Japanese schoolgirl and bought a pair of knee socks.
On Friday night, I went to a “young person’s party” in Tokyo which very similar to every other good house party I’ve been to. I met a Japanese guy who, lo and behold, had attended Springhurst elementary, my alma mater, a couple years before I had. I also met two Japanese girls who’d just graduated from American colleges. One of them attended Hofstra University and had a thick Jersey accent—something I never expected to hear in Japan.
I want to post more, but I have to get up early to go to Hakonei tomorrow. I'm not taking a laptop with me, but will be back by Tuesday night, Japan time.
Diffusion on the Tokyu Line
I’m on a Milan Kundera kick, so on the train into Shibuya I sat reading “Of Laughter and Forgetting” while wearing Turkish earrings and drinking ostensibly Kenyan coffee. Our lives are full of these moments, but every now and then it hits me again how recent this all is. I think we underestimate the “first wave” of globalization and the long-standing trade network across Asia through the silkroad and the amount of trade across the Indian ocean, but I don’t think so many things were ever this casually integrated before.
I used to rhapsodize about this in high school. I thought cultural diffusion and globalization boiled down to New York City girls in Chinese embroidered flats and Indian bracelets eating Mexican food (like many, I left Africa out of my global daydream at the time), a fusion that was sure to spread ever outwards. (Giuliani assures me NYC is a microcosm the world—or at least the country.) Intellectually, all I can stick with from this is I think we too often characterize cultural globalization as the spread of Western products and images, when in fact there’s more multi-dimensional integration.
Also, of course, looking at the integration of consumer products as the hallmark of globalization is cheap. Trade exists without equal power relations, and an exchange of goods doesn’t necessarily lead to an exchange of ideas. (Theory: if there’s trade between two relatively equal countries, there has to be an exchange of ideas. Case in point: corporate reorganization and assessment in the US and Japan. Maybe the difference lies in competing corporations in two counties versus trade through a multinational corporation.)
At any rate, even if we shouldn’t draw too many conculsions about the state of the world from one American girl’s reading material and jewelry and coffee on the Tokyo subway, it is a fairly new and growing snapshot. It also makes me so happy to be living in this era.
I used to rhapsodize about this in high school. I thought cultural diffusion and globalization boiled down to New York City girls in Chinese embroidered flats and Indian bracelets eating Mexican food (like many, I left Africa out of my global daydream at the time), a fusion that was sure to spread ever outwards. (Giuliani assures me NYC is a microcosm the world—or at least the country.) Intellectually, all I can stick with from this is I think we too often characterize cultural globalization as the spread of Western products and images, when in fact there’s more multi-dimensional integration.
Also, of course, looking at the integration of consumer products as the hallmark of globalization is cheap. Trade exists without equal power relations, and an exchange of goods doesn’t necessarily lead to an exchange of ideas. (Theory: if there’s trade between two relatively equal countries, there has to be an exchange of ideas. Case in point: corporate reorganization and assessment in the US and Japan. Maybe the difference lies in competing corporations in two counties versus trade through a multinational corporation.)
At any rate, even if we shouldn’t draw too many conculsions about the state of the world from one American girl’s reading material and jewelry and coffee on the Tokyo subway, it is a fairly new and growing snapshot. It also makes me so happy to be living in this era.
In a Bright and Distant Town
This has been my favorite week in Japan in some ways. I’ve gotten to feel really comfortable with Rachel and Brett and I’m not always an embarrassment to myself in public. I loved Kamakura and enjoyed the party and meeting up with friends this weekend. I also am beginning to be able to conceptualize a fulfilling social life for myself here (this is guaranteed to happen right before one leaves a place. Guaranteed).
It’s also been a hard week though. My grandmother recently had surgery and had to return to the hospital due to complications. I hear that she’s doing better now but it’s hard to be so far away from home and I wish I could be with my family.
I’m also realizing I committed an error in putting a friendship before a friend. One thing that frustrates me is how much of the last six to eight years I’ve spent thinking about relationships and how little I’ve spent thinking about how to be a good friend or a good daughter. I think this is worth posting about (and sorry if this sounds preachy) because I think this is pretty common among people my age. I don’t know that the solution is spending more time doing comprehensive social analysis (yeah, mock me for this sentence), but it seems like there was a lot of waste somewhere.
It’s also been a hard week though. My grandmother recently had surgery and had to return to the hospital due to complications. I hear that she’s doing better now but it’s hard to be so far away from home and I wish I could be with my family.
I’m also realizing I committed an error in putting a friendship before a friend. One thing that frustrates me is how much of the last six to eight years I’ve spent thinking about relationships and how little I’ve spent thinking about how to be a good friend or a good daughter. I think this is worth posting about (and sorry if this sounds preachy) because I think this is pretty common among people my age. I don’t know that the solution is spending more time doing comprehensive social analysis (yeah, mock me for this sentence), but it seems like there was a lot of waste somewhere.
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