Damn Asian Drivers

Look, nearly everyone in America would rank our Asian-American bretheren as being a little jozunai when it comes to driving.And I’ll admit that my first couple of days here, I repeatedly blinked in amazement at what I perceived to be the worst driving I’ve ever seen.

That’s in addition to the bicycles, which nearly everyone rides with the seat all the way down and on the sidewalk.From an American point of view, this is doubly idiotic, regardless of how omnipresent the behavior is. And of course, fundamentally, Japan is a bicycle culture. Bikes are omnipresent and the primary form of transportation. Women ride them to work wearing skirts and suits.

No Need for Giant Parking Garages at a Japanese Train Station

I even caught a story on the morning news about efforts to raise awareness of the dangers of texting while biking, and holding an umbrella while riding, complete with experiments testing stopping distance, reaction time, etc. But all of this just reinforced my perception of the Japanese being driving-wa jozunai.

But like most other things about Japan, I had it all wrong.

The Japanese are the best drivers in the world.

Bar none.

Think I’m wrong? You are looking at one of the many streets in Daimyo, Tenjin. Typical street, some are smaller, some a little larger. And before you say, hell, I've driven down streets like that, try this - this is a two way street. And sidewalk. And bike lane.

So you think the Japanese are bad drivers? I’ll give YOU a car and send you driving down a sidewalk and then make you pass another car coming the other way while avoiding dozens bicycles and pedestrians who are oblivious to your presence.Then I’ll occasionally stop a delivery truck in the middle of the sidewalk and make you repeat until you get it right.

Don’t worry, I’ll bring a snack and something to read…

In the meantime, bow down and respect the Mario Andretti’s of Western Japan.And as for the bicycles, I couldn’t raise my seat on my rented bike and, consumed with frustration, rode off imagining myself in Ring #2 at Barnum & Bailey with a pair of giant red shoes and a seltzer bottle.That is, until I realized the reason for this idiotic setup – what you lose in power and speed, you make up for in control.A good thing when you are sharing the sidewalk with dozens of pedestrians and having to stop on a dime repeatedly.

Oh, and your face won’t get sliced up by a thousand umbrellas.So you’ve got that going for you, which is nice.

And by the way, they regularly ride while holding an umbrella. I can barely take my hands off the handle bars to signal a turn. These people ride one-handed in the rain through a crowded street shared with cars and a thousand pedestrians.

Or maybe I’m just getting too Japanese for my own good.Today at school I found myself pronouncing English with a Japanese accent when I spoke to another student from America on the way to lunch.Uh-oh….

The Moon Cannot be Stolen

Today was just like any other day in Japan.

Which is to say, it started out badly and ended by blowing my socks off so fast they spun the earth backwards on its axis, simultaneously leaving me breathless and saving Lois Lane from dying in some idiotic deus-ex-machina landslide/earthquake.

I'll get right to it. Bike tire was flat when I woke up, this makes me mad for reasons not worth getting into, except that it involves me getting splashed with rusty rainwater, etc. etc. No lunch break leaves me exhausted, I leave school in a sour mood, and because of the bike, don't get to the temple before it closes, whatever.

SOOO...I go shopping at Canal City Hakata, which is sort of a trendy spot with lots of expensive shops and gift items. Wandering through, I accidently run into a movie theater, and reading the titles I realize they are showing the new release of Neon Genesis Evangelion - ok, now skip the rest of the paragraph if you are not an anime fan. It was freakin' awesome, the theater was packed, and interestingly there is now significant product placement in Anime - Panasonic, DotComO, etc.

Movie was great, and looked amazing.

So, back to my story. I leave the theater with little idea of what to do, except to walk down this street by the canal and see what's up.

It's a series of Yatai (street food vendors) set up on the left, with the Canal on the right. The night is beautiful, it's 9:30, and I have no idea of what to do, except that I have only 2 more days in Japan after tonight.

But I'm starting to think that I've done it all. In fact, I'm starting to be concerned that the whole thing was a mistake - staying in Fukuoka the entire week. A couple of guys are taking the Shinkansen to Tokyo tomorrow and I'm thinking of joining them. What more could I do here, after all?

And what

happens next....well, give me another 2 paragraphs. I promise it's good.

This next vendor catches my eye. It's a bucket of Unagi (eel) and a woman with a tiny grill. The idea is immediately obvious. Catch your own eel, and eat it. 500 Yen - 5 bucks.

OK, Japan, let's do this.

I go fishing.

Now, I'm not a fisherman; I've never been fishing. And that becomes immediately obvious after I break two of the fishing rods. The woman finally cries out "Dam-e!" which translates into "cut it the F*&# out you idiot foreigner."

So anyway, this guy next to me looks sympathetic and steps in to show me how its done. His technique is actually quite good and he catches an unagi quickly - but returns it to the tank. In the meantime, he notes that I am wearing 5.11 pants. That I find VERY unusual. Normally only military, law enforcement, or holster-sniffers thereof know what these are. In Japan it almost knocks me over. So he and I chat some, and I start to realize that the people there are treating him with a level of respect that is palpable. He is also conjugating his verbs in a very unusual fashion.

So I ask him what he does for a living...and he refuses to answer the question. He just sort of mumbles and looks away, in a way that only a Japanese person can.

"Oh crap," I think "I think I'm hanging out with a Yakuza (gangster.)"

Then again, it's Japan, so what do I care?

The respected man is handed Unagi that I never see him pay for, and in turn he offers it to me. It was absolutely amazing. Delicious. So we sat down on tiny stools and talked over fresh grilled eel.

Anyway, you have no idea how hard it was to figure out, using my Japanese, that the man was not a gangster at all. He was the Sergeant in charge of gang investigations for the Fukuoaka Police Department (something he only admitted to me after I told him what I do for a living.)

OK - I know, I know.

I'm a prosecutor, for goodness sake. I KNOW that he could be making that up. He gave me his card, but that will take me 14 months to translate. He had a badge, but he also has internet access. So sure, it could have all been a lie.

Until he offered to take me out for Sashimi.

"Sashimi wa daijobu?" (Is Sashimi OK)? Keep in mind that in America, I won't eat a tuna sashimi, and I know what's coming. In fact, I have almost never eaten real sashimi. So of course, I happily reply "Daijobu!" and followed him down alleys and back stairs until we entered some basement restaurant in Hakata.

Close your eyes for a moment, and think about what you think would happen when the chief inspector for the gang investigation unit of the prefectural police walks into a Sashimi joint in Asia. Got that in your mind?

THAT is what happened. The staff almost tripped over each other trying to get him a table, and quite nearly threw out someone who was at one table because they needed the space. The Japanese can be obsequious and phony, but what I saw was no act.

But the Inspector was fantastically kind, generous, and patient. We talked for hours and stayed well after closing. The staff there apparently are quite fond of him, and by extension, me, at least for the night.

I cannot convey to you how amazed I was at this entire experience, except to say this: we sat and talked for 2 hours, and had an amazing time, and I was so blown away by everything that I barely noticed that I was eating a fish called, according to my dictionary, a "Stinger Fish" while it was still breathing and looking back at me, occasionally audibly snapping its mouth while we ate its flesh. I barely blinked while eating Fugu (blowfish) that is actually WORLD FAMOUS for being deadly if not prepared correctly.

One inevitable question is, what can you talk about for hours with a man who speaks almost no English and you speak terrible Japanese. All I can say is that there are certain experiences that all law enforcement share. Bad judges, retirement issues, chasing around bad guys who are always younger even though every year you get older, etc.

Plus, it being Japan, he is also a Kendo instructor and studies Jujutsu. Most Japanese Police Departments have a Kendo school, in fact. So at the end of the night, we talked kendo some before the wait staff decided to come hang out with us and they all taught me Hakata street slang and laughed as I tried to pronounce it.

So there you go - Japan is more astonishing than eating another living creature while it looks back at you.

'nuff said.

Never Leave Home Without Your Camera

And here, I was worried Japan was starting to get a little boring.

Never leave home without your camera. I'm not the first to say that, and now I believe it. I've already missed a couple of cool shots - the guy riding his bike wearing a completely normal outfit, except for the red pumps, the girls dressed in club clothes carrying their kids, etc.

But this one ends it all for me.

OK - setup is important. In Japan, they have vending machines for everything, blah blah blah, you've heard all that before. The reality is that 80% of them are for beverages, and 19% for cigarettes. The remaining 1% sell clothing, distributor caps, haldron colliders, and whatever else will keep Japan on YouTube when people start to think they aren't the strangest country on the planet.

There is a sign telling kids they cannot buy cigarettes if they are under 18, which is sort of like putting up a sign in front of an open dog food bag and trusting his sense of moderation and respect for your will while you leave for the weekend.

So here I am, walking to the Konbini (Convenience store, AMPM in this case) for breakfast for tomorrow. Orange Juice, Natto, and Onigiri. (My first Natto experience - I'll let you know.) And as I'm walking out I see the girl with her 1000 Yen note staring at the machine. And I think "No way."

"No way."

So I pull out the camera, which I brought because I've been repeating to myself I have to carry this with me everywhere I go now, and....

I get this shot. She buys the freakin' cigarettes. I miss the shot once, getting some lady walking by, but shot #2 comes out perfect. Here's the closeup, for those of you crying "Uso" (Liar.)

Everytime I think Japan is going to get boring, it wakes me up at 3 am and throws a bucket of ice water filled with electric eels on my face while blasting Madonna through the car stereo of a Hummer parked in my bedroom.

Hunger Paens

The definition of trust in human society is taking food from a complete stranger and eating it voluntarily. I have repeatedly found myself at the mercy of hunger and illiteracy, resulting in some acts of faith I would never have performed at the local Applebees.

My first full day here I walked for over 6 hours before I realized that the promise of food at the top of this park I was visiting was an illusion; the promised sidewalk vendors arrived for the Cherry Blossom

Festival and left soon thereafter. All that was left was an old man in a truck that seemed permanently affixed to the ground

and his 50-something friends who sit around and smoke and watch the feral cats

and dogs that live at the top of this park. He spoke in a thick Kyushu dialect and it was all I could do to read the Katakana menu and find an item I could pronounce. What I got was this:

Can't decide between a hotdog, a hamburger, or a cheesteak? Why not get all three in one? This would be banned immediately in America, but I'll say this - it was freakin' amazing.

Trust, then, is walking into Lawson's convenience store and asking what the items are in the hot food case (sort of like the 7-11 hotdog case). When the clerk explains that the 3 varieties are "regular" "hot" and "cheese," I pick "hot." On the face of it, this is total madness. Really? Just bring me the hot thing. I don't know what it is, but I guess it will be spicy.

Whatever it is, it's my new favorite food, and I found out that 2 other students live off it too.

Or my night of Kendo-exhaustion, when I decided to visit the restaurant across the street - hell, it's always busy, so it has to be good, right? Upon receiving the menu I realize I can't speak Japanese at all. So the waitress take my order: "Please, just bring me anything." "How many anythings?" she asks? "3 please" I reply.

In for a penny, in for a pound.

Look, she tried to explain what the food was, but I kept thinking, "Lady, I speak enough Japanese to tell you that 'My apartment is....' but not enough to know how to say '...on fire'. I think that's in Level 3. Anyway, either you bring me something or I'll pass out on the floor in your restaurant."

I still couldn't tell you what I ate, but it was fattier than anything I've eaten in America, and there was a picture of a pig on the menu, so I guess it was pork. Except I don't think there are pigs in Japan...

Or yesterday, when I read the word "Ramen" on the sign to this shop and decided to give it a try.

This should be easy.

The inside looked totally normal, and quite relaxing.

I know the words for various types of ramen, so why not give it a shot.

I try to order, and the woman politely points to the vending machine. She knows the English word "ticket," for some reason, but no other english, but that's enough to make me realize that I have to buy a ticket from this machine to order my food. Now that makes absolutely no sense.

But this ramen was awesome.

My school doesn't give me a lunch break - damn Japanese and their "Gambatte!" attitude. Gambatte, for those of who who don't know, means "Life is pain, suck it up, loser." So I took my 5 minute break between classes to run to the grocery store under the school. No time to read labels - I watched two men in the prepared food aisle stare at the selection for a minute and then grab the same thing. Well, I'll take that. It has to be good, right?

ah, so...

You know what the difference between men and women is?

I don't think it would have taken a woman 3 days to realize that the linens in the closet are for her bed and that she's been sleeping on a bed without linens the entire time.

Me, on the other hand....

Best Day Ever

I started the day with only 3 blisters on my feet, a bicycle that worked, full of energy and plans to study all night. It's now midnight, I haven't even started my homework, I have skin on the bottoms of my feet ripped off, both my hands have skin ripped off, I no longer have my $100 SureFire tactical flashlight, I still have to take a shower, and my entire body feels like I was trapped in a combine.

I am on cloud nine.

Here's the deal - my schedule, compacted as it is, calls for class all day. No break for lunch (freakin' Japanese and their "Gambatte" attitude). So the day is over, I still have to get a card reader (thank you Apple store, once again), but before I leave the school I get this vague rumor that there is a Kendo class on Monday nights across the street at the youth center. 6 pm.

I figure, hey, I'll never get to see that again - I'll just go at 6, watch a kendo class, and then get dinner and do my homework. The whole thing will take 2 hours, tops. Quick stop to 7&i Holdings, Inc. (Apparently there is no need for a fictitious trade name in Japan for 7-11 - the full corporate title works just fine) for an onigiri (rice ball) and some lemon milk, and off I go.

First lesson - never trust your intelligence. 6 pm was NOT correct. After an incredibly confusing conversation with the old man at the counter, during which I think I may have told him that I was at the gym because I had learned that the Youth Center had just acquired warp technology, I figured out that he was saying wait until 7 pm, that's when class begins.

CRAP. No time for homework, no time for dinner.

7 o'clock rolls around. No Kendo. Just these two wackos. Who inflate this giant rubber ball and begin to toss it back and forth for no apparent reason.

At this point I'm so goddamn tired I actually fell asleep sitting there watching this madness.

Then, out of nowhere, in walks Yamasaki Sensei. He is immediately fascinated with my visit.

Now, keep in mind that I have read one thing over and over on the web: One absolutely, positively, NEVER may just walk into a kendo studio and just "take a class." You must appear with an introduction, preferably from a reputable school, and with prior arrangement.

You cannot show up in 5.11 tactical pants, your Commonwealth Attorney Polo Shirt, and beginner level Japanese and get invited to practice.

Lesson Two: The Internet is no match for the Japanese, who have got to be the most welcoming people I've ever met.

I'm handed a shinai and off we go.

For the Kendo students, a brief summary - the workout was intense, focused, innovative, and fascinating. I've got a bunch of new exercises for you all. Just don't plan to walk the next day...

Then out come the Katana. And for reasons I will never understand, he hands me a Katana and we set into Iai. Of course, I have no idea how to properly perform the Japanese Iai, and so this does not go well. But we end class with Yamasaki Sensei demonstrating a number of the old Iai forms, which up until now I have only seen in archival footage. These are simply amazing. I nearly started to cry watching him perfom these kata. However, that might also be because my hands and feet were in excruciating pain....

Yamasaki Sensei is clearly having a great time, though - we take lots of pictures. He makes me pose for him with his sword (I'll try to get the pictures from him, I have his email) and we take lots of group photos.

His student wasn't too h

appy about the whole thing, I think. I'm sure I got WAY better treatment than he did on a daily basis. Then for some reason Yamasaki sensei asked the ball-throwers to join the picture. What is the deal with these people?

And here's where the whole thing turns quintessentially Japanese - HE invites ME to coffee - so off we go! Starbucks, right? The guy is a simple civil servant by day (I think, at least - my Japanese is so bad that he might have told me that he was the Emperor's personal bodyguard), so nothing fancy, I figure.

Hells no.

We walk straight into the Fukuoka Grand Hotel's coffee room, which is sort of the Fukuoka equivalent of Tea at the Ritz. 3 bedraggled, sweaty, smelly strangers walk into this beautiful tea room and the staff greeted us like royalty. Japan, baby. It rocks.

Although I have no idea how I survived the conversation, it was just amazing. And he started giving me gifts!! Little fans, but still - what's up with that? I knew he would insist on paying (thank god someone warned me not to offer to pay - he might have cut my head off right there if I had tried to pay. Thank you to whoever gave me that warning.)

But I had nothing to give him; I didn't exactly come prepared for a kendo lesson from a true Japanese Kendoka. The only thing of any value I was even carrying was my tactical flashlight. I never travel without it....but tonight.... well, let's just say that I was glad to let it go.

What can I say. When I got outside the tire on my bicycle was flat, I had eaten exactly 3 rice balls and nothing else the entire day, it was 10:30 pm, and I still had homework and laundry.

And 3 days into my trip I have done more than I ever dreamed of.

Now, if I don't figure out the past indicative form my Sensei is going to chase me down and smack me. And I am in no shape to run very far....

Everything is Burnable

A quick word on trash, packaging, and this insane place.

First, the Japanese pride themselves on being green.

Second, they wrap EVERYTHING in 12 layers of plastic.

These band-aids had a package. Then each band-aid had a smaller package. Once you opened it, the band-aid itself had a protective layer of packaging that was only used so you can put the band-aid on without touching it. Then, once you've applied it, you remove that packaging so that you can now remove the last pieces of band-aid packaging (the little strips we always use), and bang - you are now carrying a handful of trash instead of thinking about your feet bleeding.

But here's the thing. There are no trashcans here. I walked for over 7 hours yesterday and found 2 trashcans. You wouldn't know it, of course, because there is absolutely NO TRASH on the streets. I guess everyone just carries it. Maybe that's why all the men carry purses.

Anyway, so here we have trash out the wazoo, and the Japanese are crazy about their trash, so you have to separate your trash into 3 categories that I do not understand at all: burnable, recylable plastic, and robot, I think. I have no idea what's "burnable," so I'm not throwing anything out. If you really ask yourself "could I burn this?" long enough you start asking alot of questions about yourself you don't want the answers to.

Fukuoka At First Glance

Still struggling with the memory stick issue. Right now I'm at an Internet cafe, sitting in a high-end massage chair, eating noodles, and finding it hard to be that concerned. I have a Japanese movie playing in the other window on this computer, and will end up paying less than $10 to sit here, in a massage chair, for 3 hours watching whatever movies I want, all the soft drinks you can drink, heck, even if I need a shower they have them. And tanning beds, for some reason. There is a machine that dispensed my noodles, and will give me about 10 other hot foods. Or I can order a Pizza - that might be a bad idea in a land without cows.

This place is amazing. I've already met my first goal of eating at a sidewalk noodle shack (yatai) in the rain while people walked by with clear plastic umbrellas. Fortunately Edward James Olmos was a no-show. Maybe I'm not a replicant...

My best comparison for Fukuoka right now is Cambridge, MA for those of you who've been there. Maybe Brooklyn after that. Lots of tiny streets, high-end boutiques and trendy second-hand stores, right next to ancient temples and antique-looking restaurants. A working city, with a large, young, bohemian contingent.

Tonight is my second night going to bed after midnight (a.k.a 11 am to the rest of you). I don't feel any jet lag, but I just don't see the value of sleep. After all - I can sleep when I get back to work. Last night I fell asleep to a TV show that taught Chinese - in Japanese. It was great review of both languages, actually. I should find this on DVD. If I'm not careful I'm going to fall asleep here in the internet cafe; which, by the way, is the recommended way to stay cheaply in Japan if you have to extend your stay one night or get here a day early, according to my school. It's cheaper than a hotel, and nicer to boot. Name me one hotel you've stayed at that has a free massage chair, free internet, free movies on demand, free drinks, and hot food 30 feet away. All for under $10 per 3 hours.

Anyway, sleep is for suckers. I woke up this morning after 4 1/2 hours of sleep, ran for 1 1/2 hours, took a shower, bought my adapter, and then headed out. 7 hours of walking later I had hit the beach, Hakata (canal city), several neighborhoods, all in all over 7 miles of walking and the blisters to prove it. I am officially out of band-aids. Even my replacement Japanese ones.

All this time, however, I ran into Westerners exactly 3 times. Once, while running near a popular hotel, then at the beach, a German family (used some German, in Japan. Double points for that), and then at a man-made lake. Each time, there was this funny greeting we made, as if we knew each other from "back home." It's bizarre. It's the camaraderie of being the handful of Westerners in a city that is NOT a tourist destination for Westerners.

Favorite interaction of the day, though: Riding the elevator at Hakata Station with a 5 year old boy behind me. I said "Konnichiwa!" He replied "Konnichiwa, Ji-San."

Translation: "Hi, Old Man!"

Not good.

More pics tomorrow, if I can get a computer to read this damn memory stick. No luck here.

Oh, and it's my first day of school tomorrow.

Wish Annie a Happy Birthday if you haven't already!!

First Day In Japan

This is, hands down, the most fun I've had on a vacation by myself ever. Fukuoka is totally amazing. I'm going to try to put lots of pics up and try to make this blog interesting for people, but we'll see how that turns out in reality...

It’s my first full day in Japan. I’m sitting in my apartment in Fukuoka City, a nice sea breeze blowing in from Tenjin, a game show running in the background for company. Not many lights and sirens – as best as I can tell, it consists of two guys in suits playing scrabble with Kanji. There are two very serious judges scoring them. Not to say that I didn’t see insane game shows last night while I was going to sleep.

Sleep, by the way, is not something I’ve been that into in the last couple days. Last night I went to bed around 1 am and woke up at 6. Why sleep when I could go for a run in Japan? After an hour and a half of running through the city (personal record, btw) I realized I might be going a little insane.

So, why has it taken me so long to post anything? Well, sitting on my table back home is the two-prong attachment for my Mac. Japan, for those of you who don't know, is 2-prong only. No adapter, no power.

Of course, that wasn't a problem. I just had to walk to the Mac store, which is 4 blocks from my apartment. Of course. If you are looking for it, just look for the Starbucks. No, not that Starbucks - the Starbucks across the street from that Starbucks. If you get lost, just look for the Starbucks 2 blocks away. "2 blocks away, but in what direction?" you ask.

In any direction.

No pics yet -- why do I buy things from Dynex? They never work...including their 5-in-one memory card reader. Don't buy it, btw. Back to the Apple store, I guess...

OK - so, a few observations, and then I have to get out of here...

The Flight

I learned a few things that I'd like to share:

1. ANA is the best airline ever

OK, so I was stuffed into a tiny seat next to some 260 pound guy. That's economy class for you. And nevermind that by my calculations, there was $350,000 worth of airfare on that Boeing 777. But it's an airline- that's supposed to happen.

But the staff were incredible -- nice, attentive, thoughtful -- constantly and thoroughly attentive the whole time. And the food was awesome; they gave me the Western meal (crap) but it was pasta and it was amazing!! Breakfast was Onigiri (rice ball), with the nori (seaweed wrap) separate so it wouldn't get soggy. Tea served constantly, and I have to find that brand of tea because it either had morphine in it or it was some secret blend of amazing tea.

2. We Make Our World Miserable

And by we, I mean westerners. Traveling in an airplane full of Japanese people is like a Montessori field trip. I watched four year olds carry their trash to the trashbin on the other side of the plane. Repeatedly. The plane was so clean I wondered if it was new.

The last flight I had to Orlando was in a flying dumpster. There was trash in the seat. When I got on the plane. What? I was afraid to touch anything for fear of getting TB.

Which, by the way, explains why Japanese people at customs all wear surgical masks. Hell, if I grew up in Japan, I would wear a mask when dealing with foreigners too. We are disgusting.

3. When the Lady at the Ticket Counter Asks If You Want An Exit Row, You Say "YES"

10 feet of leg room. 'nuff said.

Next Post - Fukuoka City, and my Apartment.