Category: Japan

HOLD YOUR HEAD UP HIGH ON THE OTHER SIDE

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QUESTION from Marty: How long does the train ride from Chigasaki to Shinjuku take? – Well, if I take the Rapid service (which I usually do), it’s 52 minutes. Yes, train times are that exact. In physical measurement, it’s just over 60 kilometres. Including walking times, my daily commute is about 70 minutes each way. Bear in mind that the whole way, the conurbation never stops – it’s buildings from beginning to end with no parks, forests or hilly domains. Thanks for the question, Marty – keep ’em coming, people!

This morning I slept through my alarm. That’s to say, it went off, I grabbed it and pressed ‘Stop’, then settled back into bed – all without actually waking up. I opened my eyes to find the sun higher in the sky than it should be and my phone/alarm clock nowhere in sight. Panicking, I threw my bedsheets around trying to find it. What if I only had 5 minutes to get to the train station? What if training had already started? Very soon I found my phone, and it said 8 o’clock. Training started at 10:30. Not the nightmare I was preparing for, but still quite pressing.

I made it, though. No problem. And I remembered my pen today, which I’m sure you’ll agree was sensible.

After training I found myself in Shibuya, so I met up with the gentleman who writes (or used to write) this website. He’s a Kiwi who’s been over here for a year now. Pretty crazy, hanging out with someone I’ve only previously talked to on the internet. I must say, it was very nice to hear a familiar accent again, even though I’ve been here less than a week. We had a good yarn over a couple of beers; he introduced me to some new terms, like ‘friendsick’ and ‘familysick’ in place of ‘homesick’, as they are very much distinct from each other.

Generally, talking to this guy was massively reassuring – like, now I feel like I’m really here and it’s exciting and my horizons can be expanded, because until now I’ve been wary of exploring too far, or challenging myself too much. His words made me think about why I’m here, and how I’m here, which made me eager to get into things a bit more instead of sitting back, saying as little as possible and keeping to the streets I need. The easing-in period can finish; the grabbing life anew period can begin (as ridiculous as that sounds).

PEOPLE WON’T BE PEOPLE

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I made my way to Shinjuku this morning for the first day of training. As is customary, I missed the turnoff and walked about three times as far as I should have, before realising my mistake and turning back. I found the building, sweaty and harried, with 5 minutes to spare. Wahey.

(By the way, the weather is different between Chigasaki and Shinjuku. In Shinjuku, it is sticky and energy-sapping. I think it’s all the tall buildings reflecting heat into the street, or something. Down here in Chigasaki, it is comfortable – warm but not too hot, not humid, occasionally with a pleasant breeze. But you didn’t come here to talk about the weather, and anyway, it’s all going to change very soon – the Rainy Season is almost upon us…)

Once inside the training room, with four fellow trainees (all Australians), I realised I hadn’t brought a pen. Good start. Our trainer looked and spoke a bit like Simon Amstell, so when he noticed me looking around uncomfortably at form-filling-in time, he graciously offered me his pen for the session… and took the piss out of me at the same time. What he couldn’t possibly have expected was that I would BREAK HIS PEN just five minutes later! What a ridiculous thing to do! I felt like a prize idiot, but he didn’t mind too much… he just took the piss out of me again.

The second trainer who took over at about 4 was a Yorkshireman who was into, among other things, avant garde hardcore and noisescapes such as the music of John Zorn. So far, not too challenging.

After the training finished, I went for a wander around Shinjuku, just to look at all the blinking lights and swiftly moving people. It was illuminating, to say the least. So many shops, bars, restaurants… all with staff outside shoving menus in your face and loudly chorusing for you to come inside. I didn’t buy anything – somehow. I also counted about four noisy buses circling the neighbourhood, obnoxiously but delightfully advertising various wares. Then I caught the train home, and the mass of people on the train network illustrated again how vast Japan’s (and especially Tokyo’s) population. People just don’t stop coming.

Now I’m back here, writing this, and thanks to Google I know that there’s a guy who did exactly the same. Here‘s his webpage, which I discovered some time ago, but only read through in the past couple of days. A lot of it is rather familiar. That’s my house! That’s my room! That’s my local bar! His writing is (I think) a lot more earnest than mine, but it’s pretty good, and worth a look. It makes me wonder whether I shouldn’t lighten up once in a while and just be stunned by my life at the moment, similar to how he was… but that wouldn’t be me, would it? I come at everything – even a completely new environment, with the hundreds of challenges that poses – with ruthless pragmatism and even a healthy dose of cynicism. It’s just the way it is. How would you react in my situation? Or how did you react? Am I doing it wrong?

COUSIN NORMAN HAD A REAL FINE TIME LAST YEAR

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On the way into Shinjuku from the airport, I was given a quick and effective illustration of how many people live in this country: apartment buildings. Some up to thirty or forty stories high, the majority containing literally thousands of apartment dwellings, these massive, ugly structures dominated the landscape all the way in. In some parts, there were six or seven all in one neighbourhood. For a moment I wondered how people could live like that, before realising that I myself could be doing just the same…

Once at Shinjuku, in the busiest train station in the world (over 2 million people though it every day), I eventually met up with the housing agent after waiting in the wrong place for half an hour. Shinjuku station has something like six exits, and I had been told to wait at the Starbucks near the east exit, so that’s what I did; unfortunately, they really meant the central east exit, which has another, different Starbucks despite being just two minutes’ walk away.

Aki, who was in fact American-born and raised (yet spoke decent Japanese), led me down to buy a train ticket to Chigasaki and on to the platform to wait. When our train arrived, it thankfully wasn’t at all full, so I could enjoy the journey in relative comfort. At this point I was so exhausted I could hardly take anything in – I remember talking about football, about cellphones, and a few structures viewed out the window, but little else.

So, to Chigasaki, and my new home. The taxi driver didn’t know where my building was, but after a call to the depot we kind of stumbled upon it. To my relief, it wasn’t another enormous eyesore designed to cram in as many people as possible; rather, it was a modest two-storey building with only (I think) four apartments. I have to agree with my flatmates: my room kind of sucks, but it’s certainly no worse than what I had back in Christchurch.

Last night I decided to go down to the local conbini and buy dinner. The roads are so narrow, man – wide enough for a car and a bicycle side-by-side, but not two cars. And at a T-junction, there were some flashing lights embedded in the road that I couldn’t be bothered figuring out the meaning of. Then there’s the housing, virtually none of which is actual houses – it’s all small apartment buildings like the one I’m in. And with the streets so narrow, they can squeeze more of them into a neighbourhood.

I bought ready-made spaghetti bolognese, sushi and kare-pan for dinner. All of it was good, and cheap. This, and much more, is available at any convenience store in Japan – a colleague back in NZ told me to go along and check it out, because I might be pleasantly surprised. The array of ready-to-eat, cheap meals available is just unimaginable in NZ, even in a supermarket. I was very surprised, so thanks, Kuro-san.

Incidentally, the weather is nice, and not too hot or humid. Yet. And I’m just so happy to finally be here.

GIVE IT TO ME

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Quick word from Singapore: I’m here, happy and far less stressed. I managed to get through immigration and go outside to have a look at the greenery and cars, and to feel the comparatively crushing heat (around 29 degrees C). I decided I didn’t have time to go into town, much as I would’ve liked to, so I came back inside and had Indonesian for dinner (not bad); now I’m writing this.

This emigration lark’s a cinch. Next post will be from JAPAN. At last.

STATIC CODES ON THE HOTEL RADIOS

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Last Post from Christchurch. Barring any flight delays, forgotten passports or a sudden and massive panic attack, I’ll be on the plane tomorrow morning.

I have found myself involuntarily reflecting on my life so far these past few days. And I know I was talking the other day about points of definition, clear dividing lines in your life, that sort of thing, it isn’t the reason for my introspection. Like, I didn’t say to myself ‘okay, I’m leaving, so I have to think about what I’ve achieved up to now and how I’ve arrived at this point’ or anything like that. It just seems to have happened.

I do this often, what with my (progressively less angsty, I hope) diary scribbling, but this time it’s a bit different. Plenty is being looked at and recalled: traumatic events in childhood, times of extreme embarrassment, and of course missed opportunities, of which there are always too many. The view back on these events is more curiosity-based than anything, sort of a ‘why did I think that way?’ or ‘how come I remember that and not something far more exceptional?’

What’s really notable, I think, is that I’m barely looking forward at all. Of course I’m really excited to be going to Japan and all that, but the future has never been something I think about easily. I mean, what is there to pick over? It hasn’t happened yet, so apart from imagining a couple of material things you might want to do, I don’t see the use in it. Unlike the past, which is full of fascinating detail, including what those times really felt like. Plus if you think too much about the future, you develop expectations which just can’t all come to fruition.

I’m not saying don’t plan for whatever’s next. Those who do are invariably more successful than those, like myself, who don’t. I’m just saying I don’t find it all that interesting, because as someone who always wants for deeper understanding, things that have already happened hold so much treasure. However, I imagine my mind will go kind of blank once I get on the plane tomorrow – actually being in that next portion of life will facilitate my putting the previous one away, for now.

Hopefully I’m being sincere with this, and not just throwing more drivel out into the blogspot. Regardless, thanks for listening, and I’ll see you soon.

ONE KIND WORD MEANT MORE TO ME

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Less than a week left now, and almost everything is in place. I know I will be living in Chigasaki, a city of about 220 000 people on the coast south of Yokohama. I know I will be training for the first two weeks in Shinjuku, and heading into the busiest train station in the world each of those days. I have a work visa and Certificate of Eligibility respectively stickered and stapled into my passport, ready to get me into the country without any problems (hopefully).

What I didn’t anticipate is that the last couple of weeks would be so difficult. In a good way, mind. Somewhere in amongst the haze of ongoing dinners, lunches, parties and drinking sessions I suddenly got a sense of what I’m doing, what I’m leaving behind. Warning: the following may not make sense, and reads more like a drunken leaning-on-the-shoulder , ‘I fuckin’ love you, man’ speech.

There’s my life here, with all its material comforts, which I’m cutting off to restart somewhere else. It’s another clear break in my life, like going to boarding school, or moving to Christchurch: a point of definition at which one section of my life ends and another begins. As such, it is very easy to wrap my head around. This will stop, and that will start. Simple. Short paragraph.

The same cannot be said of the many relationships I have built up with people. There’s everyone in my immediate family (who I am lucky enough to have all seen in recent weeks), then there are colleagues at my job of more than 2 years, then there are good friends – some from school, some from uni, and one from hometown. With each of these people, I have a unique relationship that has grown over the years, with particular idiosyncracies and patterns of conversation that don’t exist with anyone else. As a result, I struggle to even begin comprehending all the change that is happening on that front. In my brain, in their brains, in our lives.

I mean, there’s always email, and telephones, and webcam exchanges, but none of those afford the intimacy of actually talking to someone in the same room as you. I’m not trying to make myself seem more important than I am (despite the fact that I am the centre of the universe), but to me, it’s a bigger deal than anything else involved with this move. I wonder why I have these people around me – why not way shittier people, y’know? They’ve (you’ve) all taken the time to hang out with me and say goodbye and say other very nice things, and I just feel extremely fortunate… and sad to be going.

Enough of that. I need to go and watch Kubrick and Altman movies on a loop to purge all this sentimentality out of my system…

POUR SOME SUGAR ON ME

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I haven’t been asked by many people why I’m going to move to Japan. The vast majority have been interested in the how/when/what, without any trace of incredulousness, which is a good thing – in general, people’s reactions have been the opposite of “Why the fuck would you want to move there?”, i.e. supportive and interested. But I’ll tell you anyway.

My best friend through high school was a Japanese guy, and we remain very good friends. I never thought of him as being notably Japanese, like he was a representative of his culture or something, but the fact that he is Japanese and that I have gotten along well with him could only have positively affected my impression of the people. Here I’ll also briefly point out that for a year I was obsessed with Lost In Translation, which no doubt spurred on some Japanophilia. (It remains one of my favourites.)

After working as a gaspumper for BP for a couple of summers, I found a job working for a souvenir chain. When I applied for the job, the image I had in my head was of a small, sole-charge booth hocking cheap pens and magnets and flags and such, and the idea of it being Japanese-centred didn’t even occur to me. Not so. It was like a department store, with clearly defined sections from expensive jewellery to exclusive knitwear. Most importantly, the staff and clientele were about 60% Japanese. Somehow I got the job, and found myself working in an approximation of Japanese society – somewhat distorted, perhaps, but close enough to give me a better idea of the culture. And everyone seemed to respond well to me, and I to them, so that was all fine. In fact, I still work for this company, and will do for the remainder of my three weeks in New Zealand.

In the middle of all this, in about the middle of 2005, I decided I wanted to move over there. I was studying psychology (and am now a proud holder of a B.A. diploma in the subject), and the thing about psychology is that you can’t really get a decent job in the field without completing a Masters at least. Psychology really wasn’t all I’d hoped it would be, and where once I figured I’d do a Masters, I now was repulsed by the idea. What’s the point of spending another two or three years studying something you don’t believe in?

Still, I would finish my degree, then I would have to put it to use in some way. I didn’t want to have spent all that money only to get a job I could’ve got without the magic piece of paper. Fortunately, there are a great many companies in Japan that will hire you if you meet two requirements: 1) be a native English speaker; 2) hold a university degree. It made sense to go for it. Several experiences in my life seemed to me leading me down that path, so it was an easy decision to make. And lo, once I completed the university bollocks, I pursued opportunities to teach English in Japan until I found a company that would have me.

The final push, and the reason for the post title, came in about July of last year. Nic showed me a few of Ayaka’s Surprise English Lessons, and pretty soon I was hooked. Before you stop reading and write me off as another wota, the obsession isn’t really that strong. Honest, it isn’t. But I am fascinated by the way Japanese music and TV culture works, so I’ve studied it for rather more time than I should have. From the Surprise English Lessons I moved on to Morning Musume‘s TV appearances, such as the field trip special on Mechaike (tagline “What A Cool We Are!”) and various appearances on Hey!Hey!Hey!, the music show of comedy duo Downtown.

Finally, as if to push the interest from spirited to unhealthy, I started listening to Morning Musume’s music. It is the purest form of ridiculously sweet, catchy, overproduced pop music that I would probably hate if it was by an English-speaking group. The whole project is lorded over by a machine of a man known as Tsunku, who writes and produces a good 50 to 100 songs a year and collects massive amounts of cash as his stable of pretty young girls churns out the hits. Truly, you cannot beat the Japanese for taking a concept and pushing it to the absolute brink of its potential. (Japanese comedy shows (such as those mentioned above) are similar in the way they ruthlessly refine themselves until everything is pure hilarity.) Part of me is appalled by such an artificial, even cynical industry, but as much as anything I admire him for finding the gap in the market and filling it.

And, as chance would have it, I am (in some small measure) a part of that market. It doesn’t make any sense that Morning Musume should rub shoulders with The Alan Parsons Project, Peeping Tom and The Crystal Method in my music collection, yet there it is. I say again, this was not a crucial factor in my decision to move… but it certainly didn’t hurt.

FAR BEYOND THE PALE HORIZON

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When news of Lindsay Hawker’s murder broke into newspapers, colleagues and friends assumed I would have a greater-than-average interest in the story, what with my going to Japan soon. They were all eager to call it to my attention and see what I thought about it.

I was as appalled as anyone by such a horrific event, but still, it’s one life gone in a world full of thousands more deaths every day. I’m not trying to be insensitive – such a senseless murder as this does merit extra attention – but it’s important to retain perspective, and not feign shock when you simply don’t feel it. As a writer (Ha Ha!) and keen observer of journalistic standards, I was more interested in how the story was being reported. (Badly.) Example:

“Mr Hawker told a press conference his daughter had researched Japan thoroughly before taking up work as an English teacher, to make sure she knew the dangers.” – BBC News

According to the Mail on Sunday, Mr. Hawker actually said “Before coming to Japan she researched extensively on the net, and we all agreed that Japan was a safe place and a good society.” Why have the BBC inserted that extra clause about ‘the dangers’? Because, in searching for a good angle for the story, the writer hit upon the idea that Japan is littered with such behaviour. Which can’t be proved, but hey, we’ll run with it because it’ll tap into people’s fear of a cultural Other.

I find it so frustrating when, in 2007, the barriers between societies are still being rigidly maintained in ways such as this. The Japan that I am aware of is home to the same kinds of unusual and antisocial behaviour as anywhere in the Western world, though it may appear to be slightly different. This behaviour isn’t brought on by overdosing on anime, hentai or Morning Musume; it’s generally the result of a mental disorder, just like some of our own suffer (but then again, we have nice barriers to keep them out, too).

Of course I say all this without having actually been to Japan. It could very well be full of slavering young men fixated on violating young, attractive Western women. But this is a blog post, a brief and poorly thought out opinion piece, whereas people like the BBC are in the business of informing people. It isn’t good enough.

The entire point of this post was to draw attention to Richard Lloyd Parry’s piece in The Times, which excellently sets out the parameters involved in the murder, its setting, and our reactions to it, before going on to provide insight about an aspect of it that most hadn’t even considered. I spent most of my time bitching (as usual), but bugger it.

BOUND FOR MU-MU LAND

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Right: I passed the interview to teach English in Japan with a major eikaiwa corporation on February 17. Since then, I’d been waiting for word as to where I would be working, and when I would start. Until yesterday.

As expected, they had been waiting for a notarized copy of my degree, which arrived there on Tuesday. A day later, I received an email with those two pieces of information I’d been waiting for.

1. I will attend a training session, and eventually work at schools, in the Kanto region (関東地方). That’s Tokyo and surrounding areas.

2. The training session will begin on June 4, 2007, but I should arrive in Japan a few days beforehand.

My reaction? Well, I had kind of been expecting to be placed in the Kinki region (Osaka, Kobe, Kyoto, Nara etc.), and much of my thoughts about my future in Japan had assumed that would be my base, so a re-ordering of those thoughts is required. I’ll come right out and say that Tokyo freaks me out: the biggest city I’ve ever been in was Sydney, and Tokyo has 3 times as many people in a similarly sized area. I mean, everyone says it’s really exciting, but I wonder how quickly I’ll be able to adjust to the pace of life there. I know I’ll be all right – I have confidence in my adaptability – but when you’ve lived in New Zealand all your life, moving to somewhere as insane as Tokyo is bound to bring about some apprehension. (So is any move, really, but… this one in particular.)

Of course, I might not even be based in Tokyo. It could be Chiba, or Saitama, or Ibaraki, etc.; who knows, it’s a big company. Regardless, the adjustment will be massive, and that’s exactly what I want. It’s the reason I’m going. I need to challenged on a grand scale to wake myself up, get my creativity working again, and feel like I’m doing something with myself.

As for the date, that’s about when I was expecting. But a few days is no time at all in which to acclimatize, so I imagine the two-week training period will be as much about getting to grips with life in Japan as learning how to do my job. As for the training itself, I have no idea how I will fare, having never taught kids or adults before; again, I have confidence in myself to get through it okay, but I expect not to feel comfortable until after a good month or two of classes.

Jesus, man. I’m going to Japan.

COLLABORATE AND LISTEN

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There’s been a bit of a lull here while I wait for a new hard drive for the Brutalizer. As you can see over to the right, I’ve been watching and reading all sorts of rubbish (perhaps I should have my computer de-commissioned more often), so when it finally arrives I’ll put up some new reviews. Seriously, why does ‘2 working days’ always turn into ‘2 increasingly interminable weeks’?

I suppose now is as good a time as any to announce that I have been offered a job teaching English in Japan for a large eikaiwa corp. Not that anyone who reads this site didn’t know that already, but I’m gonna go for the OE-curious dollar and try to attract a new readership. This is the first (brief) post in an ongoing series about my adventures involving Japan, both getting there and being there.

The interview (or ‘hiring session’, as they called it) was a month ago, and after a multi-choice test of grammar and rather straightforward teaching demo, they offered the job on the spot. Since then, I have obtained a notarized copy of my degree (which itself I only obtained at the beginning of the month), and that cost $45; sending it by registered mail to Osaka cost $10. Everything good costs a little bit of money.

Now I wait for confirmation that they’ve received it, after which they will find a placement for me. Then the charade of obtaining a visa will begin, which could take up to 6 weeks. Still very much early days, then, but I could be over there in less than three months. I’m really excited, of course – this is the challenge I’ve been craving for years now – but I’m shitting myself. I’ve never lived outside of NZ before (excepting my first 10 months or so in Cambridgeshire), and in actual fact, my only trip outside this country in 21 years was to Sydney for ten days in 2001. Moving to Japan will test my adaptative abilities like they’ve never been tested before.

Anyway, that’ll do for now. One other thing: I’d like to reinforce a point that Ed often makes, which is that libraries are wonderful, amazing places. You can read all these books! For free! Surely they’ll take it away any minute? Get in now and take advantage before it’s too late.