I spent Friday night in the most splendid Izakaya I have yet to enounter. It was pricey, of course, but the atmosphere was super-East-Asian and fantastic (which means, in addition to the conventional implications of good-atmosphere, that it was at least 80 degrees in there and the beer was flowing like wine and the wine was flowing like honey). The event was a late-New-Year's party thrown by a friend of a friend, and the patronage was largely Japanese, which allowed me to practice some of my newly acquired language "skills" and try some new foods and drinks -- i.e. the biggest plate of do-it-yourself king crab ever invented. I also mastered a Japanese tongue-twister in true nomi-hodai fashion:

Nama mugi
Nama gome
Nama tamago

or something like that. Three times fast. I forget what it means, though. Alas.

Yesterday I signed up for Japanese lessons, which I'll attend on Wednesdays in addition to meeting with my language exchange buddy. Now I'll have double exposure each week, plus, of course, the whole daily immersion thing -- should definitely be helpful when paired with the effects of my unintentional visit to the shrine of students and pregnant women on January 2nd. Awesome.

Angie's mention of Pocari Sweat brings to mind the wide and wondrous vault of bizarre product names in Japan. A brief rundown of my favorites: Pocky (which comes in myriad shapes, sizes, and flavors like Pocky for Men and Pocky Banana), Calpis, Crunky and Pretz. Additionally, one brand with quite the market monopoly is SUNTORY, which commandeers a long list of alcoholic beverages, milk, fruit juices, sport teams and venues, hence links on its website to both Suntory Whiskey (For relaxing times, make it Suntory Times) and Suntory Hall. Some other interesting ones (sans English influence) are Sho-Chu (Japanese moonshine, essentially), and Chu-hi (flavored Japanese moonshine, essentially), both of which can be purchased by the can at one's neighborhood 7-11 and enjoyed, New Orleans style, in the middle of the street.

Such loose booze laws leads to scenarios like the one my housemate Michelle and I experienced a couple days ago walking home from the train station, during which we passed a Pirates-Of-The-Carribbean-like array of : 1) smiling and affected businessmen laying on the station platform and 2) smiling and affected businessmen surrounded by teams of cajoling station employees trying to clear out the train at its last stop -- yes, yes, Takao is most definitely the last stop. Sigh. This Disney World ride was doubly funny as we, too, were already smiling . . .

This, courtesy of Dave, is addictive -- especially the higher levels. Yikes. Be careful.

Cheers,
Eliz

*The title is a link to more dogs-in-sweaters related fun -- ah, there's also Engrish for an amazingly comprehensive list of wonky English use in Japanese products.

There's been a rash of confusing weather of late, which has made the hourly outdoor stair climb at work a grab bag of fun. But who cares? Weather's weather. Boring. What's not boring is my account of mopping under the fridge; I found stuff like dried prunes, cigarette butts, and congealed cheese-like substances. What would've been better: having cleaned them up and eliminated their silent but deadly spores, or having ignored them, thereby saving myself the disgust of confronting them head on? Save your breath: gagging silently, I succumbed to the murky depths and my hands smell like bleach to prove it.

What's also not boring is having finally signed up (in blood and money) for the Nagano Marathon. Start sending the running shoes, fibrous power-bars and fictitious milk kegs now! I'll need them all. UNICEF pending.

I discovered Fuchu over my weekend. It's a city east of Takao (but still west of everything else in Tokyo prefecture) and I truly enjoyed it during my brief visit. I have the option to move to that vicinity and I'm considering it. Since the upstart of mental deliberations, though, I've begun feeling sporadic twangs of Takao patriotism. A brief Takao Top Ten Takeaway Three:

10) Mountains like these 10 minutes from my door -->
9) Firemen and factory workers doing calisthenics at 8 am every morning. One daren't ask for better free entertainment!
8) Uniformed adult men playing baseball (with trophies at stake) on Sunday afternoons
6) Mountains, again. And rivers. And mountains.
3) Geriatric croquet tournaments on Saturday mornings (more excellent free entertainment)
2) Big dogs in sweaters everywhere (see, in the city one can't keep a big dog comfortably, so while there are many well-coiffed little dogs prancing around in the more populated precincts, only in the Takaoan countryside can the big dogs roam warm and free)
1) Always getting a seat on the special rapid

While I am weighing my options, please don't tell John Grisham I've gotten hold of his . . . template. He'd [verb] with [noun -- emotion] if he were to [verb] [preposition].

In honor of old incohesive posts of mine, I've decided to pay tribute to what the 2005 Episcopalian liturgcal calendar lists as Martin Luther King, Jr. day -> today! Once upon a time, you see, our fine mansion on Marion street had a stellar kegerator that at some point housed a kegful of milk to feed SColson's inquenchable desire for lactose. There is a secret way that such a fact relates to MLK Jr., but now that I think about it it seems pretty irreverent and/or farfetched, so never mind. Thinking of Marion, though, I will silently pay tribute to my squeaky, anti-lumbar-supporting bed from days of old as I climb into my austerely non cushioned futon on my similarly austerely chilly room this rainy eve. Another Southie/Takao comparison I'll note -- a humble thank-you to the firemen for making the constant buzz of Tokyo seem like crickets chirping when compared to round the clock blaring sirens.

I'm on the fast track to blissful harmony between the Nagano marathon and UNICEF fundraising. Excellent. In training news, my progress has been only slightly impeded by my introduction to some pretty fabulous G&T's made with startlingly clear ice (frozen from the inside out . . . who knew that made a difference?) and tasty spirits at a swanky bar in Kichijoji. Happy payday!

Bonsai! I taught my first private lesson today and it was everything I hoped it would be and more, particularly since my rather dashing student showed up to the lesson in motorcycling gear. I'm in for some fun times, for sure. On the vice-versa language front, I now have a Japanese sensei. Japanese grammer is whack, so I'm thankful to have a guide through it all.

Plans are continuing with the Nagano Marathon. My two days of training have been splendid. If I do well on the quasi-flat marathon course, I'll probably owe all my success to the hills of Takao. In stark contrast to the one gentle slope in South Bend, Indiana, Takao is all hill. Only by running directly east toward Tokyo can one avoid elevation changes.

I've decided to (mostly) give up packaged foods as a conditioning tactic. A scary article in Runners' World convinced me of the merits of such a program so we'll see if it lasts given the price of fresh green (and colored) foods here. The one category of packaged goodness I may have to keep in my diet, however, is tasty Japanese Onigiri. It. Is. A. Delight. My favorites are those wrapped in seaweed, which provide for bundles of irrational package-opening fun in addition to being mightily cost effective. And most importantly, they make my taste buds dance and sing.

And that will be it from the marathon training newsroom, barring anything catastrophic and/or amazingly noteworthy. And this will also be it from the my housemates are back from holiday in Thailand and *thankfully* alive newsroom, because they are. Phew. But it most certainly will not be it from the onigiri newsroom. Oh no. More to come in droves, I'm sure.

p.s. Thanks to Philip and his reintroduction of yanyan into the collective consciousness. Oddly, I haven't seen yanyan on the shelves -- I'll have to start making more of a concentrated effort to find it. And then what? Go wild!

Briefly, and unfortunately to the detriment of my telling the tale of Roppongi, Round 2: Roppongi Resurrection, I have a couple notes from the Asian front.

First of all, I've signed up for the Nagano Marathon, which takes place in a couple months. My philanthropic apato-mate, Michelle, suggested I try to run for some sort of charity. This idea is brilliant in its obvious simplicity for 2 reasons. Primarily, this way if I become "that westener bringing up the rear of the pack with an unnaturally red face and tired calves," I'll at least be able to detract from my sloth by citing a higher calling. Secondly, somebody else will benefit, no? I was thinking of contacting one of the tsunami relief funds, but would something like UNICEF be a safer bet? Any suggestions on whom to contact and how? In advance "domo arigato" - Styx

Other pressing news is that I now drink corn soup out of a can while waiting outside for the train in a chilly station -- this from a girl who once believed canned corn to be the rough equivalent of canned vomit.

First and foremost, I've totally OD'd on Grisham's Runaway Jury. The book is ok, and the movie is ok. Not, however, worth watching/reading in succession unless you have a John Cusack/John Grisham fetish, which I might.

Post New Year's has been fun -- I went yesterday with some newly acquired friends to see the Emperor speak at the Imperial Palace. The ensuing events were the most bizarre excuse for hooplah I've ever experienced. Here it is -- a step by step visit to see the emperor, lest any of you should decide to partake in such revelry later in life:

1) Get bag searched.
2) Get frisked.
3) Get scanned by metal detector.
4) Accept standard issue Japanese flag for fervent waving later on.
4) Enter the PALACE yard area.
5) Give a cursory look and think, "this looks like the county fairgrounds."
6) Walk about a quarter mile to the viewing area.
7) Notice that the press corps is pathetically small.
8) Watch emperor and family enter glassed in balcony.
9) Wave flag fervently (yet demurely), for maybe 1 minute.
10) Listen to 3 minute speech
11) Wave flag fervently (yet demurely), for maybe 2 or 3 more minutes.
12) Exit


So it goes. This is apparently only one of the two times each year when the palace is open to the public, so we figured the experience was worth it. As unexpected on-the-side-benefits, I visited my first shrine (much like a football tailgate, I felt --- roasting meats and slanting sunlight) and took some fun pictures, and also discovered some rather western and picturesque parts of the city. Unfortunatley my newly acquired Japanese flag was somehow lost later on in friendly town. Bollocks.

p.s. I've finally posted some picutres (albeit of grainy thumbnail quaility), so check out a couple old posts for pictures of roommates and the bowling alley, etc.