Cheeth

tohoku relief/interpreting trip

2011-05-30T12:49:00.008+09:00

I was introduced by Darwin Halvorson to Brad Buxton and Dustin Bond (his son), who came from Salt Lake area to volunteer in Tohoku and gather the information necessary to inform other American volunteers on how to properly go about it. They needed an interpreter to come along and assist their information-gathering. I went Saturday, then again on Monday and Tuesday.

Brad is a successful businessman who has a strong desire to help people, and Dustin is a smart, tough, enjoyable guy. It was a pleasure to work with them and help again with volunteer efforts. They are generous, smart, practical people.

We went to the Kesunnuma Voluneer Center (VC) and went through the registration/orientation process. Processes sound like a pain, but at this point, I think anyone going to help is best off going through a VC. They supply tools, a variety of places to go and help according to each volunteer's ability, and parking and tent sites. They have English-speakers around and do not require Japanese language ability. In other words, go there and do some work, please.

This is the poster they had out showing the volunteer process. It reads (approximately--wish I knew a good translator):

1. Be sure to register at the volunteer registration desk

2. Receive the orientation and an introduction to the activity locations ([and info on] parking spaces)

3. Once your location is set, be sure to go to the materials management area to receive necessary equipment

4. Travel to location (by foot or vehicle)

[smiley face] Please be careful [egregiously Asian-looking, hatted smiley face]

5. After your volunteering is finished, make a report at the activity report desk [this only applied to team leaders]

GOOD WORK!

Before we went to the VC, we went to see Ishinomaki, where Raleigh, Sam, and I went last month. The next series of photos shows the clean-up progression of Abe-san's house:

A large shed had been washed up against the house to the left, the house to the right, and the car hidden behind the shed, which had of course also been washed in. The shed had large bags of ruined rice in it--a good reminder that food storage is probably best stored somewhere that won't get flooded/washed away/etc, if possible. Probably not possible in this case, of course.

Here you see Raleigh and Sam working on the debris, after we'd dismantled the shed that was previously in front of the car at right.

Another shot of where we were after dismantling the shed and other large stuff, but still with cars.

How Abe-san's house looked when I went back--Abe-san was unfortunately gone, so I didn't get to congratulate him on the amazing progress. He clearly worked his butt off to get it this nice.

Our assigned volunteer location in Kesunnuma was an abacus school. We cleaned the second floor, where this photo was taken. You can see that the water line would have reached my chest, even on the second floor. The building survived because it had a solid steel frame.

We also removed the entire counter/sink/cabinet kitchen set and many of the weaker floorboards on the first floor. Under the floorboards we found (and smelled) a lot of oil sludge. I assume a lot of the sludge resulted from the nearby refinery fire and other leakage caused by the tsunami.

Most of the following photos were taken in a low-lying area near the Port of Kesunnuma. The area was very quiet and we saw almost nobody around. Here is a post-earthquake, aerial view of the area where the photos were taken. If you zoom in you can clearly see many of the ships pictured.

An elementary school backpack.

A telephone pole with the lower part of its concrete exterior ripped away to reveal the steel reinforcement. Lots of these around.

An emergency radio/flashlight amid the debris.

A ship on top of a building.

Two ships smashed against one another and on top of a building. Pretty astounding to see in person.

Dustin under one of the ships.

Another ship--you can see on the left where the owner has taped a cardboard sign to denote who owns the ship. I have no idea if the ship could ever sail again, much less be transported the few hundred meters back to the ocean.

The railroad tracks near Shishiorikarakuwa Station. The bend in the tracks in the distance is quite jarring to me--not sure if there was a train right there when the quake hit or what.

The largest ship we could see around--it had to be (100? 50?) yards long. Look on the aerial view to see its distance from the sea.

ボランティアのやり方

2011-04-25T23:25:00.004+09:00

ボランティアとしての原則：

完全に自立する

役立てるようにしっかり備える

被災者がこれから自立することに焦点を当てる

思いやりの心を持つ

完全に自立する

ボランティアとして被災地で役に立つために必要なものをすべて持参してください。私たちが持参を勧めるもののリストを見て、他のものを必要に加えてください。これらを調達するのにお金が必要だが、周りの人から集められるかもしれない。必要以上に持参し、要らないもの（もちろん、役に立つものだけ）を避難所や後に来るボランティアにあげる調整をすれば良い。

厳しい環境で生活する覚悟を決めてください。被災者に見られない、邪魔にならない場所にテントを張る許可をもらってそこに泊まる。石巻市の場合は石巻専修大学のテント村などの場所がある。市町村によっては空地などある。避難所やボランティアセンターに聞けば教えてくれる、または張らせてくれるかもしれない。車で寝ることも考えられる。どうしてもホテルなどが必要な場合は盛岡や仙台に泊まり、毎日被災地に通うこともできる。しかし私たちの経験では被災地に泊まった方が被災者のスケジュールに合わせて、そして一日になるべく長い時間働けるようにしてくれた。

販売されているものも含め、被災地の資源を一切使用しないでください。お店の大事な在庫を被災者のためにしておく。ボランティア活動の代わりに被災者が出すもの（水、お茶、お菓子、食事など）を断ってください。余裕がなくても、被災者は日本人として出す義務を感じるが、断水したり食べ物が不足したりする中ではボランティアに出す負担が重すぎる。私たちは「本当に失礼ですが、ボランティアとしてものを一切いただかないルールがあります」など、心苦しい顔をして断ることが一番良かったように思う。ほとんどの日本人はルールを尊重する。他に言えることは「どうしても私たちのために何かをしたいなら、助けを必要としている友人や親戚を紹介してください」、又は「私たちの地域が被災したときは助けてくださいね」などある。

役立てるようにしっかり備える

被災地に向かう前に、ボランティアとして仕事を見つける計画をしてください。その計画は以下のことを含め、いろいろな事柄によって決まる：(1)日本語能力（外国から来てコミュニケーションが取れなかったら迷惑の場合もある）、(2)被災地の土地勘、(3)NPOや教会など、支援団体との連携、(4)行いたい活動。私たちは一つの避難所と連絡を取り、その周辺地域の人たちとの関係を築いていくことを勧める。既に避難所と関係を持っている団体からの紹介があるとより簡単だろう。先ずその団体と一緒にボランティア活動で現地入りして、それから避難所の担当者への紹介をしてもらう方法も良い。そうすれば被災者や担当者に最善を尽くして働く備えと志があることを見せ、それぞれの信頼をいただける。信頼されると今度はどこにテントを張ったらいいのか、誰に聞けば被災者のニーズを把握できるか、どんなスケジュールを組めばいいのかなど、大事な情報がもらえる。もし団体との活動は最初だけでその後は独立して動こうと思っていれば、その旨を事前に伝えたほうがいい。

避難所はこちらで調べられる:
http://www.google.com/crisisresponse/japanquake2011.html
ボランティアセンターはこちらで調べられる:
http://maps.google.co.jp/maps/ms?hl=ja&gl=jp&ie=UTF8&oe=UTF8&msa=0&msid=204216222230331459792.00049e7ca0e4c5995a608

様々な状況に備え、いくつかの計画を立ててください。柔軟で臨機応変に対応してください。どのように役に立てるのか、積極的に人に聞いてください。

被災者がこれから自立することに焦点を当てる

全員の被災者どころか、一人のためにでも、すべての作業を代わりにしてあげることは不可能だ。できることは多くのがれきの中で一番進捗の支障になるものを除去して、何人かの被災者のこれからの作業と心の立ち直りに勢いを付けてあげることだ。小さいがれきを拾うなど目の前にあるすべての作業をしようとすれば、一箇所ですべての時間を費やしてしまい効果的に助けられなくなるうえに、代わりにすべてをやってしまうことで被災者のこれからの作業に勢いを付けなくなる。

もちろんある作業をするか否かは大変な決断だ。私たちの経験では被災者の一番の支障をなくしてからは「次の方の手伝いに行きます」と丁寧に説明して去っていくことが良かった。気を付けないと被災地での大事な時間を使って「良いこと」をたくさんするけど「最善のこと」ができなくなる状況になる。ボランティアはすぐにいなくなるが被災者は長期的に復旧作業をしていかないとならない。そのためには心の励ましが必要で、勢いを付けてあげることは一番いい助けになる。多くの場合、一番支障になるものは特別な道具や多くの人手でしか除去できないものだ。

思いやりの心を持つ

日本語ができる人と一緒に行くか、言語がわからなくてもできる作業をしてください。（団体によってはできることがある）

友達になった場合以外は被災者がいる場所での写真撮影を遠慮してください。

個人宅で作業する際に写真など、貴重品かもしれないものを見つけたら、家の持ち主に見せてください。関係ないものだと言われたら（こういうケースが多い）道路脇に目立つ位置に置いてください。

被災者の家族や友人の安否について聞かないでください。しかし私たちが個人宅で作業中に津波がどの方向から流れてきたのかなど、物理的な質問をしたときは多くの被災者が話したがっていたとわかりました。

「あなた被災者は何もできないから自分たちがボランティアに来た」という姿勢はだめだ。手を差し伸べても断られる場合がある。それを受け入れてください。しかし被災者が遠慮しているだけで、本当は助けてほしいと感じる場合は、ある大きながれきなどを指差して「それを除去しましょうか」と聞いてみてもいいかもしれない。そういうものが見当たらないときは、持参した道具（バールやチェーンソー）を持っていることを言い本当にお役にたちたいと説明すると作業を頼まれる場合もある。それでもやることがないと言われたら助けを必要としている人をご存知か、聞けばいい。そしてその場を離れる前に必ずお礼を言うこと。

被災者が既に行った作業を認めてあげてください。適切な場合には「津波が来たにしてはきれいだな」など、彼らの努力を認めると一つの心のケアーになる。

危ないことをしないでください。被災地での医療は限られており、被災者のみのためになるべきだ。

私たちが考えたこと以外にもいいアイデアがあれば、どんどん実行してください。

ボランティア個人で用意するもの

ヘルメット
温かい重ね着
安全長靴
飲み水
お菓子など
丈夫な作業手袋（布の軍手があまり良くない）
ライター
雑巾
寝袋
寝袋下に敷くパッド
マスク
カッパ
余分な靴下
強くて重みのあるバール（ほぼ一番役立った道具だ）
携帯電話の充電器（コンセント・電池が両方あるといい）
スイス・アーミーナイフなどの道具（ワイヤー・カッター付きが望ましい）
安全メガネ
個人用救急箱
懐中電灯

グループで用意する備品・道具

ガソリン
グループで保管する飲み水
ロープ
ハンドルのついた水切りゴム
ショベル（多数）
箒
ドリル（コンセントを使わないもの）
バケツ（多数）
テント
延長コード
ウェット・ティッシュ
トイレット・ティッシュ
自動車用ジャッキ
工具一式セット
ビニールシート
バンジー・コード
脚立
顔拭きシート
手洗い用殺菌剤
テープ
道路地図
車の電源用アダプター
シュポシュポ（燃料を組むためのポンプ）
チェーンソー
チェーン・オイル
2サイクル・オイル
紙皿
紙コップ
ラップ
缶切り
ホイールバロウ
湿布
痛み止め薬
下痢止め薬
キャンプ用食器
ゴミ袋
スペースブランケット
ランタン
被災時ガイドなどの資料

私たちが持参した食糧（参考）

バナナ
パン（多種類）
サラミ（冷蔵しなくていいから）
スモークベーコン（同様）
ポテトチップ
クッキー
グラノーラバー/パワーバー
ジュース
フルーツの缶詰
ピーナツバター
ジャム
切れているチーズ
BLACK BLACKガム
キャンディー（被災者の子供に配る用）
アミノバイタル
マルチビタミンの錠剤
魚の缶詰
その他の缶詰

volunteer guide

2011-04-25T23:23:00.000+09:00

Principles:

Be absolutely self-sufficient
Be helpful
Focus on helping people become self-sufficient
Be thoughtful

In further detail:

Be absolutely self-sufficient

Bring absolutely everything you will need while you're up there. See and expand upon our list of recommended supplies (located below). Acquiring these items will require money, which people around you might be willing to help fund. Bring more than you will need, and coordinate to leave what you can (only useful stuff, of course) for shelters or future volunteers.

Rough it. Get permission to put up a tent somewhere, out of sight and out of the way, and sleep there. Ishinomaki has a "tent village" at Ishinomaki Senshu University where many volunteers are sleeping. Other towns may also have similar designated fields. Also shelters and volunteer centers may know of appropriate places or may give permission to set up a tent nearby. Or sleep in your car. Or commute in from a hotel in a functioning city like Morioka, Sendai, etc. We found that sleeping in close proximity to the people we were serving allowed us to observe and accomodate their schedules and also maximize our limited working hours.

Don't use any local resources up there, even those for sale. Leave the stores stocked for the locals. Don't accept gifts (water, ocha, snacks, lunch, etc.) in exchange for your volunteering. Japanese will feel obligated to give these. Just apologize with a pained look on your face, saying you know it's rude of you to reject but you have a rule/policy not to accept gifts while volunteering. Japanese people respect rules. Say that if they want to do something for you, the thing you'd most appreciate is if they'd let their friends and neighbors know you're available to help. And/or ask that they return the favor next time there’s trouble where you’re from.

Be helpful

Before going, develop an initial work plan or plan for finding work. Your plan will depend primarily upon (1) your Japanese speaking abilities, (2) your level of familiarity with the region and its people, (3) any affiliations you have with NPOs, churches or other aide organizations and (4) the type of service you are most interested in providing. We suggest making a connection with a particular shelter and then cultivating a relationship with the people and area which that shelter serves. This is perhaps best accomplished through an initial introduction which comes from a trusted resource, such as by participating in an outing organized by an NPO or church to a particular shelter, from which you can strike up conversations with the shelter’s leaders. You will have proven to the shelter your preparedness and alacrity to serve, and they will be more willing to provide you with tips on where to set up your base camp and how to go about building a daily routine. Obviously you will need to discuss your intention with the NPO or church prior to unilaterally branching off from their organized trip.

Here are some shelters:
http://www.google.com/crisisresponse/japanquake2011.html

Here are some volunteer centers: http://maps.google.co.jp/maps/ms?hl=ja&gl=jp&ie=UTF8&oe=UTF8&msa=0&msid=204216222230331459792.00049e7ca0e4c5995a608

Develop multiple backup plans. Be flexible and adapt. Proactively ask folks you see how you can help.

Focus on helping people become self-sufficient

You cannot fix everything for anybody, much less everybody. What you can do is give several people momentum to overcome a massive amount of physical and emotional debris. If you simply try to do all the work you see before you, including smaller tasks such as picking up smaller debris, you will spend too much time in one place. You will just be doing their work instead of helping them move forward.

This is a tough distinction that will not always be clear, but once you have helped a person overcome their largest obstacles and the rest seems possible for them, politely say that you need to move on and help the next person. If you aren’t careful, you could end up doing many good things, but not the best things. Remember that you will leave shortly, but affected persons will be there for the long haul and will need emotional strength to persevere. Try to eliminate their biggest obstacles, which will usually be things that require more manpower or special tools that are not available normally.

Be thoughtful

Go with a Japanese speaker if you don’t speak Japanese, or coordinate beforehand to do work that doesn’t require Japanese (depending on the organization, such work may be available).

Refrain from taking photos when people are around, unless you’ve become friends.

If you come across precious items (photos, etc.) in the course of your work at a home, bring them to the owner's attention. If he/she doesn't know whose photo it is (as is often the case), place it on the side of the street in a conspicuous location.

Refrain from asking about the health/safety of a person's family or friends. But, if working at homes, do feel free to ask about the physics of the tsunami (e.g., what was swept in from where and how); people seem to want to talk about this.

Don't imply that people need your help or that they're helpless. If you offer help and people say no, accept that. If you get a sense however that they are just politely saying no but really do want or could use your help, very respectfully point at some particular object and ask if they need help with it. If there is nothing in your line of sight with which you could obviously help, mention that you are well-equipped with crow bars and chainsaws and that you are committed to helping - this may trigger a response. If they truly cannot put you to work, ask them if they are aware of anyone else who could, and thank them.

Recognize the work that people have done. When appropriate, comment on how orderly their home/yard has become since the tsunami; say they must have been very busy cleaning the place up.

Don't engage in activities that are too dangerous. Medical care is limited in afflicted areas and should be reserved for the disaster victims.

Think of good things we didn’t and implement them.

Things each person should have

Helmet
Warm, layered clothing (work gets hot)
Steel toed waterproof boots
Drinking water
Other snacks
Work/cold gloves
Lighters
Rags
Sleeping bag
Insulated bedroll
Mouth/nose mask
Raingear
Extra socks
Strong crowbar
Mobile phone charger (both plug-in and battery-powered if possible)
Leatherman/Swiss army knife-type tool (preferably with wire cutter)
Safety goggles
First aid kit
Flashlights

Group equipment

Gasoline
Group drinking water
Rope
Mop-handled squeegee
Shovels
Broom
Cordless drill
Buckets
Tents
Extension cord
Wet wipes
Toilet paper
Hydraulic jack
Mechanic's toolkit
Tarps
Bungee cords
Ladder
Face wipes
Alcohol hand sanitizer
Packing and duct tape
Roadmaps
Car lighter adapter
Gas siphoning thingys
Chainsaw
Chainsaw chain oil
Two-cycle oil (for chainsaw)
Paper plates
Paper cups
Saran wrap
Can opener
Wheelbarrow
Icyhot pads
Aspirin
Anti-diarrhea medicine
Camping sporks
Powerbars
Garbage bags
Alcohol wipes
Emergency blankets
Small lantern
Field operations guide for disaster response

Our food list (for reference)

Bananas
Bread (sunflower seed, raisin, wheat, white, rye)
Salamis
Potato chips
Cookies
Chocolate
Granola bars
Juice
Canned fruit
Peanut butter
Jam
Smoked bacon
Sliced cheese
Black Black gum (caffeine)
Candy for local kids
Amino vital gel pouches
Multivitamins
Canned sardines/other fish
Other canned goods

tohoku relief trip

2011-04-15T08:09:00.046+09:00

[Note: I already posted some photos and accounts on Facebook, but a lot of this is new. As explained below, we want as many people as possible to know about what we did, because we think our actions can be replicated by many others. Please feel free to share this with anyone, anywhere.]

Raleigh, Sam, and I went to Tohoku for a week to volunteer for relief efforts.

We have talked a lot about how we should tell people about our trip, and to what degree we should make our efforts public. The conclusion we came to is that we did something a lot of other people can also do, so making it as public as possible--something we wouldn't have been so eager to do otherwise--would be the best way to get others to consider what they can do to help the many people still suffering in Tohoku.

When one member of our team mentioned to a coworker that we planned to go to Tohoku, the coworker said skeptically, "What are you going to do, stand there and hand out bentos [lunches] to victims?" A lot of people seem doubtful that volunteers can go to Tohoku and have a meaningful, positive effect. They are wrong.

We saw various kinds of volunteers in action in Ishinomaki, where we spent most of our time. Some people were there from far away working earnestly, but unfortunately for organizations that seemed more interested in taking pictures of their activities than in actually carrying out effective relief. Some came and were willing to do anything, but had neglected to plan their trips well and bring the supplies necessary to avoid burdening others. Some did it right. At the risk of striking an arrogant tone, we did it right. We spent ten days carefully considering our supply needs, the relief needs of the disaster victims, what equipment would best help us do meaningful work, and how we could channel the resources of organizations (primarily the LDS Church) while remaining flexible enough to adapt as circumstances required, and then spent a lot of time buying or borrowing those supplies while arranging to set aside our affairs for a week. Raleigh and Sam coordinated with their respective law firms and wives to get time off from work and family, and got amazing support from all of those parties.

Before the trip, and then in the course of events, we learned that the two main ways we could help were (1) manual labor on behalf of disaster victims and (2) the matching of LDS resources to evacuation shelter needs.

The labor consisted of helping residents of the Watanoha community of Ishinomaki City remove debris from homes where they wished to continue living. While areas such as Kesennuma and Onagawa had large neighborhoods that were swept away completely, the Watanoha area saw most homes flooded from one to three meters high, but with many still salvageable. The damage and debris were immense, but many victims wanted to stay, so we found a role in helping them get moving toward recovery. Of course, we knew we couldn't fix even one house completely. However, we found that if we could remove the largest obstacle (other than vehicles, which for safety and strength reasons we didn't touch) to the cleanup--a car garage or shed that floated into their yard and blocked removal of smaller debris, or a waterlogged piano that they couldn't remove from the living room--they would be able to see a light at the end of tunnel and gain some momentum from our short, labor-concentrated push.

The necessity of matching resources and needs became apparent as we saw a lot of supplies in Sendai but insufficient information on up-to-the-minute shelter needs. Basically, supplies and funds were ready, but the nature of the situation required people to physically go to a shelter, find the person/people in charge, and ask them what they needed (then, further, physically go to Sendai and bring back the supplies in many cases). There were few people doing this. Since I was the only licensed driver on the team, I often made supply or shelter reconnaissance runs while Sam and Raleigh worked around the neighborhood. This meant I was sometimes deprived of the exquisite 8:00 pm sleep of the fatigued worker, but I did get chances to sing loudly in the car by myself.

Here is how the truck looked loaded before being covered with a tarp. We spent a lot of time planning what to bring by e-mail and phone--we didn't want to bring unnecessary items, but we didn't want to get to Tohoku and wish we'd brought a certain tool. The list of things I brought in the truck:

150L gasoline
60L drinking water
50m rope
30 bananas
Several loaves bread (sunflower seed, raisin, wheat, white, rye) (more
bread can be sent to Sendai for us with one day notice)
3 cans Chip Star
5 pkgs tiny cookies
2 pkgs Country Ma'am cookies
1kg indv. wrapped peanut chocolate
20 100g packs kakinotane
48 nature valley granola bar two-bar packs
3 mop-handled squeegees
5 shovels (4 square, 1 round)
1 broom
1 cordless drill
1 chainsaw3 buckets
1 3-man tent
1 50m extension cord with 4 outlets (for charging if we spend time in
a powered location)
2 pairs steel toed rain boots
1 pair steel toed sneakers100s of wet wipes (from a friend)
1 gallon grape juice
5 cans fruit
6 pairs work/cold gloves
36 rolls toilet paper
30 rags
4 lighters
1 3.5-ton hydraulic jack
1 mechanic's toolkit
3 3x5m tarps
5 bungee cords
1 3m ladder (1.5m folded in half)
2 2x3m reflective thin bedrolls
1 sleeping bag
1 container gatsby face wipes1 container alcohol hand sanitizer
25m packing tape
1 Tohoku roadmap
1 crappy lighter to outlet adapter
1 netbook pc
1 music player fm radio adapter/USB charger
1 large jar chunky peanut butter
2 medium jars strawberry jam
2kg smoked bacon410g sliced cheese
2 gas siphoning thingys (1 battery-powered, one manual)
1L chainsaw Chain oil
2L two cycle oil (for chainsaw)
25 small paper plates
40 paper cups
100m Saran wrap
1 larger container Black Black gum (caffeine)
100pcs candy for kids
30 mouth/nose masks
3 sets raingear
10 pairs packaged socks

2 weapons-grade crowbars

The crowbars were purchased by me at Raleigh's behest on my final trip to the home improvement store (Cainz Home). They proved to be arguably the most useful thing we had. Crowbars are amazing.

Raleigh and Sam also both brought several important items. Perhaps the greatest of these were the several salamis Sam brought.

The truck with tarp, at a rest area on the way to Sendai. The truck was impeccable. It got us around easily, had 4wd for rough patches, got well over 30 miles per gallon, and held as much as we needed at any given time. I borrowed it from a friend of a fellow parliamentary aide. It is owned by a Buddhist temple, whose leader was very happy to have it used for humanitarian service, and had no problems with it getting a little banged up in the process. I was a little nervous to be driving with 150L of gasoline directly behind me along stretches of Fukushima and Miyagi where the expressway had significant earthquake damage, but the truck ran perfectly.

At first, the three of us got around by having one person in the back, under the tarp, in the manner Raleigh is pictured here. Then the 7.4-magnitude earthquake hit on the evening of the first night we were there, and thereafter we squeezed into the very small cab so we could keep on the same page for decision-making and information sharing. This is as good a place as any to point out how lucky I was to have two very smart people to turn to for good judgment and situation assessment. That they are both lawyers was forgivable in such circumstances. I felt like our team was very well balanced, with each member bringing valuable assets.

The damage started to become apparent once we got into the areas of Ishinomaki City which are closer to the coast. Most restaurants and other businesses were shut, though a few remained in operation.

In one family's yard, Sam found a taiko drum owned by the junior high school that lies about a kilometer away toward the ocean. The family planned to give it back to the school, of course.

This cat was swept away by the tsunami, only to return three days later, despite being 16 years old! It sat blocking my path when I was hauling stuff out of their yard, and did not budge when I walked toward it in a "get out of my way, cat" way. Now I realize the cat's tsunami experience far outweighed any fear I could put into it.

Sam working to dismantle the roof of a shed. This was taken after he and Raleigh had removed all the sheet metal and outer panels to get to the skeleton. The crowbars were indispensable to get to this point. As you can see, we had to work in some precarious positions, but we were lucky enough to avoid any major falls. I nearly fell off one shed we were dismantling, but my protruding belly caught on a beam and saved me. Thanks are in order to each of my favorite ramen shops.

Here Sam chainsaws a piano in half so we can get it out of the living room window. It was a very solidly built, expensive player piano. We used crowbars to get at the insides and removed a lot of screws with the cordless drill before having to cut it in half.

The 60-year-old man at this house was not its owner--he said his older sister was. We didn't see her around. There were two cute little boys playing out front, one five and one three. They were horsing around in the wreckage, and when we started working, they followed us around, watching with great interest as we worked using our tools, the way little boys do.

In the course of working, I asked where the man was from. He said he and the boys were both from Onagawa, a coastal area to the north that was hit much harder than Ishinomaki. He said their house had been completely swept away, and that the two boys' mother had not been seen since, meaning that she was very likely killed. This hit me really hard, and I had to turn away for a minute and try to gain composure, wiping away tears as I thought about these boys that had just lost their mom but were now following us around with admiration. The man had a hard time keeping the boys out of the street and the dangerous debris as he worked to fix the house.

Once we got the piano apart and dumped the heavy piece with the exposed strings onto a pile, the older boy started to bang on them and make piano-like sounds. He quickly figured out how to bang out rough melodies of kids' songs, and asked his little brother, "What song do you want me to play for you?" I wanted to hug them both and tell them things would be okay, but I had no idea if that was true.

This home had a piano (center left), a freight truck (upper right), a forklift (lower right; one of the heaviest items on earth), and a roof from some building in it. We came in contact with the family through the wife, who saw us working on another yard a street or two over and begged us to come help remove at least the piano and roof. When we began working there, the husband came out and really dove into it. He smelled like alcohol. I don't know about their situation, of course, but putting the wife's urgency and his state together, I wouldn't be surprised if they had felt overwhelmed by the seemingly insurmountable obstacles to cleaning, and kind of got stuck wondering what to do. As I mentioned, we were well aware that we could work for one week on one house and not finish it, but if we could come in and remove the biggest, toughest obstacle (excluding cars--too heavy and too dangerous to push out of perches since they contain gasoline), the family would get some momentum and hopefully finish things on their own.

The chainsaw was another item we were sure could only end with us either very relieved to have brought it or guffawing that we'd brought such a useless, cumbersome tool. It turned out to be the former. The man of this house related to me that he'd had a chainsaw just like ours, but it had been washed away with all his tools. He was crestfallen to have lost his tools, and by extension, a large part of his ability to remedy his own problems.

We stayed next to an ad hoc shelter called Negishi Kaikan, which was a small meeting hall. It was tiny, but housed 60-70 people, only two of whom were children. The girl pictured here was named Himawari (12), and her little sister was named Anna (9). They were lively and probably very bored with life in such cramped quarters. We gave them piggy back rides and treats from time to time. They had two pet parakeets that they kept in a shed next to the shelter and fed potato chips. We went to their home one day and helped the father, who was a fisherman, remove their soaked tatami mats. This was a job we helped with at many houses. I estimate that soaked tatami mats weigh around 300 pounds.

After we finished, we sat down in his house and listened to him talk about his experience. He was on a fishing boat when the earthquake happened. He saw strange ripples in the sea that indicated a seismic event. In the ensuing tsunami, their propellers became entangled with fishing nets, which paralyzed their boat. Eventually (after a few days) they were rescued by another fishing vessel and got to return to land and find out about their families. His wife and daughters were fine.

When we got back to our campsite, 12-year-old Himawari asked, "Did you see my house?" I said I did, and she said, "It used to be cute, but now it's not." I told her I thought it was a nice house. She then revealed plans to go shopping for new stuff and do everything in pink this time. She seemed ashamed of her house's condition but excited to fix it.

Our camp. The two temporary toilets to the right were unused by the evacuees, so we used them. If you look directly above the smaller tent, you can see the crows' nest that served as our de facto 5:30 am alarm clock. You can also see the blooming plum tree above the larger tent. The place was actually really nice; it had trees and flowers and rice fields. I will visit Ishinomaki in the future just to enjoy it properly.

One of the said piggyback rides. Anna looked on laughing, which was of course the point. On another day, Himawari and her dad left together in their car. She was dressed up and had a shiny purse. I don't know where they were going--maybe to start school--but Himawari seemed really excited to go out with her dad somewhere. Since he's a fisherman, I imagine there are times where he's not around, so spending time with her dad must be a really fun thing.

This graveyard was next to Minato Elementary School, to which we delivered supplies from the LDS Church. Seeing cars piled on graves was a surreal, sad sight, and it was even more discouraging to think about how low a priority fixing it would have to be.

Geographical surveys indicate that the land in many affected areas has sunk. This, combined with high seasonal tides, placed this road under a foot or so of salt water. Crews worked hard to raise the road bed with fill as we came through several times.

Coming back from one of my supply runs, I hit a traffic jam and found myself across from some US Army personnel. They were really friendly, and I enjoyed a handshake with the soldier that had his arm out the window. They had been in Tohoku for 3.5 weeks, so pretty much since right after the disaster hit. Great people.

One of the supply runs I made was to get 80 liters of milk and 300 eggs for Minato Elementary. I had called this order into the LDS church in Sendai just 16 or so hours earlier, and Brother Joji Suzuki had miraculously procured the items, both of which were unavailable in Sendai, from other parts of Japan. The folks running the LDS church relief efforts were extremely capable and helpful, and they gave no thought to whether the people they assisted or worked with were church members or not. They simply worked hard to help everyone.

After making a couple of supply runs for shelters in Ishinomaki, I asked the bureaucrat at Minato Elementary if he could issue us a document certifying our vehicle as an official aid vehicle exempt from expressway tolls. He hemmed and hawed, saying it would take two days to get, and explained a kafkaesque procedure for doing so. The person in charge of supplies, a scruffy guy named Endo who was missing several teeth, was standing next to me, trying to assist in my quest for certification. I got impatient (okay, pissed) at the bureaucrat and said "That's Japan's problem--people starve while bureaucrats make procedures." Endo-san then also piled on the poor official, and together we hounded him into calling City Hall and making the people there crank out a certificate immediately. We went there and picked it up, and Raleigh and Sam took this picture as I emerged victorious.

In the meantime, we had found out that my advocate, Endo-san, had lost his home and everything he owned, except his mobile phone, in the tsunami. He told us--in the presence of the said bureaucrat, to whom we had shown an increase of love and befriended--that he felt bad for living in the shelter and eating the food there, but all he could do to earn his keep was work to make sure the other evacuees got supplies. I felt pretty small in his presence, and if I had met him on the street under normal circumstances, I am afraid I wouldn't have been able to see his greatness. His righteous indignation toward red tape destroyed any justification for following silly procedures.

Raleigh cuts his chainsawing teeth. One might wonder why we were cutting trees; a lot of them had collapsed brick walls leaning against them, or just needed to be removed to expedite cleaning, so the owners asked to have them cut. Obviously, the difference in effort and time between chainsawing a tree down and cutting it with a hand saw is significant.

Teamwork. It's what's for dinner.

Sam sat down for a very short break while he and I waited for Raleigh. "What was Raleigh doing?", you ask? He was extricating us from a home with three very happy lady customers that wanted to feed us (sushi, we think). Our rule was not to take anything from anyone. We probably offended a couple people, but we felt really strongly that taking food or drink was inappropriate.

Rows of houses meant giant rows of debris waiting for a yet-to-be determined pickup by the city.

The lady who arranged a lot of work for us as the de facto leader of the Negishi shelter, Koza-san, asked us to help at her house after we'd finished all the other work for others that she could muster. Her place was on the very edge of where the tsunami hit, meaning a great deal of trash, plant material, and other debris got plunked down in her yard. While most areas we worked had been searched for bodies, she told us this area had not. We didn't find any, or really go out of our way to look. Koza-san had four cats, one of which is in the center-left of the photo and named Ichigo Daifuku, for his/her resemblance to the eponymous Japanese confection.

This house had drifted into one lane of traffic on a major road.

It's hard to see here, but Raleigh was perched in a very precarious position, trying to crowbar boards and dismantle this tangle of wreckage that rested against a house and on top of a truck.

Sam working on the left, Raleigh working on the right. notice the truck wedged on the left between two homes. How it got there was the subject of spirited theorizing by relief workers and victims alike. We removed large structures and debris entanglements to uncover both the truck at left and car at right.

The owner of the house at far right, Abe-san, with Sam and Raleigh. We spent an entire day on his house and the one to its left, owned by a man named Matsumoto-san. We felt closer to Abe-san than perhaps any other person we helped. He lived alone and had no family, and talked about moving to a landlocked prefecture like Gunma. His neighbor and good friend, Matsumoto-san, tried to talk him out of it. We could hear a sadness in Matsumoto-san's voice as he tried to keep his friend from leaving. Their heavily accented conversation in Tohoku dialect was pretty poignant to hear.

Abe-san and Matsumoto-san got us to break our food/drink rule, mainly because Abe-san went and got yakisoba especially for all of us. We knew it was time to just take it and enjoy it when he showed up with food in hand and made it known he'd be really mad if we didn't partake.

Sam, Abe-san, me, and Dave. Dave had planned to come up with us originally, but then contracted a nasty illness that delayed his arrival. He came on Wednesday and stayed until Saturday. Unlike us, he came alone and stayed by himself in the tent. I really admire his determination to get to Tohoku and help people despite being very busy with a new job and just getting over a sickness.

The pants I am wearing are silly, I know. But they are the pants worn by construction professionals in Japan. I found that when I showed up to a shelter wearing these clothes and a helmet and asked about their needs, the people in charge could see from my gear and filthiness that I was serious and working hard. That gained their trust quickly and helped us to work efficiently.

My obligatory commemorative photo on the last day. A week without showering or changing clothes had me feeling very manly and itchy.

The team.

On the morning of April 7, as I drove through Tokyo on the way to Sendai, I saw a beautiful sunrise. My feelings at the time were admittedly cheesy and sentimental. I love Japan. The Japanese nation and its people have treated me so well, and have provided me with many of the things I cherish in life. I am unabashedly proud to have done something for Japan during its greatest crisis. As I drove through Tokyo on the way home, I saw the sun setting and took the above picture. It was a nice bookend to the sunrise.

Below are some videos of the wreckage. They give some idea of how widespread it was. We could have gotten a lot more video, but we tried not to film things when people were around. Like the photos, they were all taken on my iPhone, so quality is low.

strong wind

the kanenohama/negishi neighborhood

ishinomaki port 2

ishinomaki port 1

coming off the bridge into ishinomaki port

road damage on bridge

port next to water

destroyed paper mill and freight terminal

wreckage near port

more wreckage

earthquake

2011-03-15T15:23:00.001+09:00

I am posting a lot of news-heavy updates on Facebook. With blogging I just wouldn't be able to keep up.

suntory 2: instant market reaction

2011-01-19T15:07:00.003+09:00

So as I was commenting in reply to Aaron regarding the last post, a man pulled up to buy his usual couple cans of coffee (I've seen him before). Through Work Hut's window, I documented in photos his conversion to the new machine after buying one can from the Coke machine (presumably for his boss or someone else whose permission he has yet to obtain for switching afternoon coffee brands). You have to look closely, but his poses are perfect.

This photo series also depicts well the ease of pulling over and buying that our location provides.

"Just buying the same old coffee..."

[Hand on hips] "Say, is that a new machine? Sure has a lot of newfangled drinks."

suntory

2011-01-19T13:49:00.004+09:00

A few years of having the Coca-Cola machine has proved to be highly successful. It has generated $50-$100 a month in profits most of the time, with a few slow winter months that have been lower.

The only problem is that a year or so ago, I noticed that quite a few potential customers looked at the selection and decided not to make a purchase, due to the small array of products in the Coke machine. A lot of the school kids that climb down the back of Mount Takao and come by the machine pass it up because it only has Coke and Grape Fanta in the way of "soda," and then a bunch of coffee and sports drinks. I called Coke and asked them to place a larger machine with more options, but they declined, citing a bad economy.

My amateur opinion is that the more variety, the more likely people are to make our vending machine location the place where they stop by for refreshment. Add to that the fact that cars can pull over to the side of our road and make a purchase without causing a traffic obstruction, and our spot is better than most of the other spots in the area. Of course, having bigger or more machines results in more electric consumption, which is our only cost, but I think we can make it work by drawing more people through having a wider selection, plus serving the needs of a wider customer demographic.

I called Suntory and had them place the above machine next to the Coke one. If they both lose money for a four-or-so month test period, I'll get rid of the Coke one and keep the Suntory.

The great thing about the Suntory machine is that it has Pepsi products along with Suntory's popular BOSS coffee and tea brands, as well as Gatorade and a couple of other popular items such as CC Lemon. It also has a bunch more PET bottle options, making it attractive to hikers, who don't generally buy cans.

I love this adult version of having a lemonade stand, and I am excited to have cold Mountain Dew next summer.

my nice hat

2011-01-06T11:59:00.005+09:00

As requested by Shane, here's a picture that shows my hat. I don't think this does it justice, but you get the idea.

There were a few factors in deciding to get a truly nice hat. One was the 90-year-old man who comes to church every week wearing a fine hat. I always like the way he looks, and I like to see pictures of times when men wore hats, like this:

Looking for the above hat-wearing-era picture, I also found this article speculating as to why hats went out of fashion. It raises some good possibilities. In any event, I will be wearing a hat when I can and as long as I like to, which feels like it will be a long time. I wear the above hat with any suit or formal coat, as well as more casual jackets. It increases my desire to take a walk by at least twice. Finally, my vanity can be channeled into a possible benefit.

Also, reviews of the hat have been overwhelmingly positive, in family, church, and political circles alike. Kiyomi's folks and the older church members all love it because it reminds them of the old days. Mimi loves it for unknown reasons. People at the Boss's office commented that it makes me look a mafioso, in a positive way. I have a hunch that wearing a hat when appropriate will be a subtle way of winning the hearts of older voters in my Japanese political career.

I have worn the hat to interpreting jobs, of course doffing it when entering the building. People seem to like the image of a foreign gentleman literally showing up hat-in-hand for a rate negotiation or actual job.

but i am still around

2011-01-05T23:39:00.002+09:00

This post is really going to require that you watch a couple versions of the same song on YouTube.

Long story short, I have been listening to a lot of old country music. It has been a highly rewarding pursuit. I now enjoy falling asleep to Loretta Lynn or Waylon and Willie on many nights, and my quality of life has improved generally.

So the other day, I inevitably came into contact with the song Highwayman, which was sung by The Highwaymen, which consisted of Willie Nelson, Kris Kristofferson, Waylon Jennings, and Johnny Cash. They were sort of the Traveling Wilburys of country, when country was a distinctive genre for good music as opposed to bad lyrics. I have had the song in my head more or less ever since.

Here is one YouTube version of the song. Someone put it together using various stock photos and what may be high school artworks, but the level of literal interpretation is a delight, and one that I still cannot definitively determine to be either ironic or serious.

Fantastic, huh? I especially enjoyed the baubles file photo and highwayman illustration.

Zack and I have now listened to the song several times in the car. Our first few listens yielded a few good questions. One is "Where is the Horn of Mexico?" The answer is surely the Yucatan, but what a great line. Also, Kris Kristofferson is easily the least legendary member of the Highwaymen.

Another question: Why does the dam builder get included in this swashbuckling company? He met a sad end, but all he did was slip. Also, Zack informed me that some historian has apparently shown that there is no evidence of anyone slipping and falling to their death into the concrete of Hoover Dam. I was shocked to hear this, since I had told the tale to many a believing Japanese tourist while driving slowly across it. I am facing facts now, though.

Another question: Why was Johnny Cash so awesome?

So here's the official video for the song:

I do believe this was a great video, and the actress playing the lady whose baubles were liberated by the man with Willie Nelson's voice was also in one of the Indiana Jones movies, I think.

If I were a trucker, I'd play this song a lot. It will also get much play on my next road trip. Here's to old country music.

chuuk

2010-12-12T20:01:00.009+09:00

I went to Chuuk to interpret for a church leader from Japan. I was there three days and two and a half nights.

First, I had to fly to Fukuoka, then to Guam. I stayed in Guam one night, and this was the view from my hotel room. Guam seemed nice, but we got there right before this picture and then left early in the morning, so I didn't see much. Guam does seem to have strip malls, though. Everyone I met there was nice. Sure, they were all churchfolk or hotel workers, but I can only assume that everyone else in Guam is nice, too. [needs citation]

We got to Chuuk and traveled to the Blue Lagoon Resort, which was our lodging. There are a couple other hotels there, one of which is called the Truk Stop. Chuuk used to be called Truk, and Truk is where the US beat seven kinds of crap out of the Japanese Navy, which was until that event keeping a large portion of its fleet there. Chuuk is a placid lagoon with several islands and lots of sea, making it a good place to occupy. Operation Hailstone is the name of the battle in which many Japanese vessels went down, and those vessels remain in fairly calm, shallow waters around the islands. This makes it a diving mecca, and divers account for the majority of Chuuk tourists.

Here's the District Center on the main island of Weno. They were hosting a basketball tournament on this evening. If I remember right, these were the prizes:

1st: An unknown quantity of chicken and unknown-sized bag of rice

2nd: Turkey tails (not really sure) and an unknown-sized bag of rice

3rd: An unknown-sized bag of rice

If this scene reminds you of being in West Valley City, that's because it was exactly like being in West Valley City.

Notice that the lights aren't on. That's because most of the time, the government doesn't supply electricity. I heard this was because the power plant went down and hasn't yet gotten back online. Infrastructure is very poor in Chuuk, which is apparently the least developed and most corrupt of the four Federated States of Micronesia. The church, our hotel, and many houses had their own generators.

At dusk, sand crabs and frogs began to run/crabwalk/hop around the hotel grounds. This one reared back to show me who was boss when I held the iPhone precariously close.

This is the view from the church. I can't imagine a church with a better view anywhere in the world. It was very hot and humid, so when I stood with the speaker and interpreted, I sweated profusely and unabashedly. It wasn't too bad, especially when I could look out the open windows and see a tropical paradise. At one point I looked down at the feet of the man conducting the meeting and realized I was looking at his actual feet. The people were extremely laid back and nice. They bought us some food for one lunch, and two of the Chuukese people saw that there were ants all over one of the plates. They gave us the plates without ants and one of them ate the plate with ants on it, tossing them to the side as inconspicuously as he could, so as not to make us uncomfortable. I would have eaten them.

Lots of people came to district conference in boats, which landed right next to the church. For this and other cultural reasons, the 10:00 meeting got rolling around 10:40. Everyone either walked there or took a boat, except us wusses. I tried to convince the mission president who was with us to let me walk from the hotel, but no dice. Not that he could have turned me loose in good conscience, of course. Don't misunderstand, though--Chuuk isn't dangerous except at night when folks get drunk, but the roads are almost all unpaved and very muddy due to the near-daily rain shower. We drove everywhere, but our speed rarely exceeded 5 mph because of the massive puddles and holes. A very large percentage of people walking waved as we drove by, because they are freaking nice.

The church had a couple awesome stray dogs hanging around it, but they never seemed quite bold enough to come in. I asked why, and was told that the people will give them a nice strong kick if they do.

The man walking by is one of the people who would surely kick the dog for unlawful entry. The man was also one of the nicest people I have ever met.

Again, nicest view anywhere.

We had rental cars from the hotel, and went to the other side of the island of Weno to visit a more secluded church. I drove, and it was very much like a Jeep ride in the Utah desert, minus ever going fast. You don't need any license to drive in Chuuk, from what I can tell. They drive on the right side.

Breadfruit, bananas, mangoes, coconuts, and other things grow spontaneously all over the place. Lots of folks seem to do a lot of sitting around. Then again, there isn't a lot of hard work to be done.

On the other side of the island from our hotel and up a mountain a little bit in the jungle, this stone sat below some cement pools built in a stream. It says:

The Year 2603 [Imperial Japan measured years from an alleged date of Japan's founding]

Fourth Navy Construction Department Facility

Land Base

The pools were still perfectly intact (must have been built by Toyota or Honda). They were probably used to filter stream water.

On our way back to the hotel, we came upon a volleyball game being played in the middle of the road. It looked like a fun game. Young men played while little kids and women of all ages looked on smiling.

Obligatory tropical photo 1

Obligatory tropical photo 2. I had between 6:00 and 7:30 AM one day to do whatever, so I snorkeled around here. It was really fun. A school of fish burst out of the seaweed and scared me badly at one point. I decided not to go too far out. Boats sped by sometimes and I had been told that not a lot of people snorkel, so I figured no one was watching out for me and might run me over, or that a fisherman might also rightly recognize my back as that of a succulent, fatty creature and harpoon me.

fukuoka

2010-12-12T18:42:00.009+09:00

To go to Chuuk, I first had to fly to Fukuoka, stay the night, fly to Guam, stay the night, and then fly to Chuuk. This led to the fulfillment of a decade-long dream--to visit Fukuoka for the sole purpose of eating its famous Hakata (former name a city that became part of Fukuoka) tonkotsu ramen.

I was told by a man in the know to eat at a ramen shop called Menchan, located near the Nakasu neighborhood that is famous for ramen. The above ramen was what I got, and I could have eaten it thrice (or gotten kaedama, the extra round of noodles every Kyushu ramen shop offers for 100 yen or so), but I was looking to explore at least one more shop to make the trip more worthwhile.

The second bowl turned out to be here, at an outdoor shop along the river. This kind of shop is called yatai, and this particular one was manned by three affable dudes who asked where I was from. I told them "Hachioji, in Tokyo." I have gotten to the point that I tell people where I live when they ask me where I'm from. They got "Salt Lake City" out of me eventually, but I like to tell people about Hachioji first. I love me some Hachioji.

They served the usual ramen, but also had yaki-ramen (fried ramen) and the assorted items in broth you see above, which are known as oden, and which 99% of Japanese folks love. You'll find these on every convenience store counter throughout times of cold.

The dudes worked with way too much precision to have any time for sanitation.

I chose to have the yaki-ramen. It was much better than this photo indicates, but I have to admit I should have just gotten another bowl of ramen.

It was a good night in Fukuoka. I followed the eating with much walking.

I walk a lot now. The reasons are:

1. I want to be less fat

2. I like walking

3. I bought and now frequently wear a fine gentleman's hat that makes me four to five times happier at any given moment when I am wearing it, and walking is pretty much the best thing a fledgling gentleman can do in a hat

answers again

2010-11-08T21:06:00.003+09:00

Are you or are you planning on going to school again?

Not going right now, but I don't plan to not graduate. Ha.

I miss you, but more especially Kiyomi and Mimi; when are you coming back to visit?

We are aiming for April. Kiyomi wants to go when it isn't too cold, and April is a fairly cheap time to fly. HoneyBaked ham, anyone?

Also I teach 4-yr olds to read; is it more difficult to teach preschoolers there with the complicated alphabet or do you somehow simplify it?

Japanese has three alphabets, hiragana, katakana, and kanji (Chinese pictographs). Hiragana and katakana are phonetic and have 46 characters each. Kiyomi says that while none of the alphabets are formally taught in preschool, kids usually learn hiragana first in the home from their parents (okay, basically their mother). They learn hiragana and katakana formally early in elementary school, and kanji are introduced at a rate of a couple hundred a year up through high school, but you never get to all 2,000 everyday-use kanji (or the further 1,000 that one might encounter anytime) in a 12-year education. Which reminds me of this Onion gem.

Do you and Kiyomi get to go out much on dates?

All the time. Unless you mean without Mimi. Wait, Kiyomi's parents watch Mimi for a few hours each Tuesday and Friday when Kiyomi goes to help out at our bishop's bakery. Sometimes we'll go get a bowl of ramen before going to get Mimi. Hot stuff.

What do you do?

Explore parts of Tokyo we haven't seen before, eat, and eat.

What good books have you read lately?

I have recently (meaning in the last year) read Operation Mincemeat (fun), Deliverance (tense), What the Dog Saw (Malcolm Gladwellicious), A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again (great essays by David Foster Wallace), The Jungle (I should have just kicked a puppy, since it would have taken me less time and left me feeling just as cheerful), Tokyo Vice (memoir of an American who covered the seedy Tokyo underworld as a reporter for the biggest Japanese newspaper--very seedy), and I've snacked on bits of Benjamin Franklin's, Ulysses S. Grant's, and William Tecumseh Sherman's respective autobiographies. The latter two were influenced by re-watching the documentary The Civil War. I'm starting The Third Policeman right now, and I was delighted to see a copy of it in the hatch in an early episode of LOST, which I am watching for the first time. I theorize that LOST took some conceptual cues from TTP. I am also reading How to Tell a Story and Other Essays by Mark Twain. Having (Kindle on) an iPhone has made reading a lot easier for me, and many classics are available for free.

How many people in your ward?

About 120 people. Except when the Stake President shows up, when numbers always drop to 90 or so, vexing the bishop greatly.

How big is your primary?

About 20 kids.

Did you celebrate Halloween?

No. I'm somewhat of a Halloween grinch, not least because they don't trick or treat here and my only real Halloween exposure anymore is on Facebook.

If so, what did Mimi dress up as?

A snot-nosed (literally, she had a sniffle) two-year-old.

What's your favorite food in Japan that you probably just wouldn't find in the states?

Ramen, hands down. There's also okonomiyaki, really good sashimi (brine shrimp is the only truly fresh fish you're getting in SLC, let's face it), Japanese-style Korean-style barbecue (yakiniku), and so on. Things you won't find even in LA or NY? Hmm. Not sure, since I don't frequent those major world cities, but I doubt there are many straight soba or udon shops, which can be quite fantastic.

How many people in Japan vote at each election?

This of course depends on the election, but the most recent Lower House election (the most important kind) drew 69% of voters. That was high, though. I'd say it's usually around 50-60%, but I refuse to do the typing and several clicks to find out.

Is there a big variation in musical tastes, like the classical-country-rock-punk-jazz-rap sort of preferences that happen here?

Yes, there is a lot of variation. There are also a few parts of Tokyo with vibrant music scenes. But the average Japanese person, true to worldwide form, enjoys crap.

answers

2010-11-02T09:05:00.004+09:00

This helps. Questions are good.

As always, these are all actual questions from actual readers. I've always wanted to type that.

Why should anyone bother to learn the square root of pi?

I dunno, but I think there's a dude in Japan who can break off like 100,000 digits of pi from memory. Memorizing pi is a pastime with a decent following here. Make of it what you will. I don't math. (You read that right.)

How much time do you spend translating in an average week?

I don't translate as much as I used to. I have shifted business over to direct clients as opposed to agencies, which enables me to farm it out to good translators, often better than me. Plus, a lot of work has been from English to Japanese, and native Japanese translators handle all that. This summer, I also ended up doing a lot of interpreting and consulting. It was enjoyable. The fun part of interpreting is that when it's over, it's over, and you know right away whether you did a good job. I have come to a reluctant realization that I am a lot better at interpreting than translation, in terms of my ability within the market. I do fine at translation, but interpreting is where people seem really happy. With translation, I have to do adult things like manage time and motivate myself to get through a job. I need a taskmaster, so naturally I made myself my own boss. I'm smart that way.

What do you want to be when you grow up?

I'm pretty okay with not having one solid position or job that I long for. I think aspiring to it, achieving it, and then realizing it's not that great is a dumb process. I have a lot of ideas, though. I think I'll eventually get naturalized and run for local office, for one, but that will just be for the free bento lunches and riding in loud vans with gloves on. I don't think the world is set up for people to do the same job for a long time anymore. I'm just a squirrel trying to get a nut, as a wise man once said.

Do you worry about bugs climbing into your bed when it's on the floor?

I do not think about that. We get little tiny ants or the occasional cockroach in the house, but nothing in bed. Mimi is very afraid of insects (Could Kiyomi's blood-curdling screams at the sight of cockroaches have affected her? Nah.), so lots of places we don't want Mimi touching or entering are rumored to be heavily populated with them. Lying to kids is good.

Did you go on any hikes lately and are the leaves changing there?

I haven't hiked much. I have taken a nice walk or two in the city, and those are good. Tokyo is a nice city to walk around in, I think. October and November are right up there in the top four months in Japan, so I need to get out for a hike.

Is Mimi speaking in sentences yet?

Yes. In Japanese. Some of her favorites are "Be quiet, the man [next door] is sleeping" (she hears that from us a lot), "Daddy, did you go to work?", and "This is not unpleasant-tasting. This is delicious." Thing is, though, you don't really have to put a subject in a Japanese sentence, so it might be easier to form full sentences. Her English is more fragmented and infrequent, but it's there. She sings a lot. She'll run through Twinkle Twinkle Little Star in Japanese (first line: kira kira hikaru), then it will switch to English, but listening closely, you'll realize she's just sort of phonetically emitting the song, rather than singing. She has a decent repertoire of church songs and the ABCs, etc. It took a few months to fix her singing "AY BEE CEE DEE EE FOO GEE..." Now I wish I hadn't fixed it. When she wants me to sing a certain beloved Mormon children's song, she shouts "AYAMACHA utatte!" Figure that out.

What do you usually have for breakfast?

In order of frequency: Nothing, rice with milk and honey (an abomination to Japanese people, but some people/ancient cultures just don't get it), a BLT and some chips (by Kiyomi, on weekends or slow days). English muffins sometimes, too.

Do people shop with coupons there?

I don't think so. There are sales and point-club-type-things, but no coupons that I remember seeing. Wait, McDonald's and KFC and their ilk sometimes put out coupons--500 yen for a Teri-tama Set, or what have you. Even if there were coupons for the grocery store, I would hate them with every fiber of my being.

Is there any one thing you can't get there that you crave from the US?

For a while there, I was going to Yokota Air Base a lot. A couple of missionaries in a row were able to get people on. That was a fine season of buying cheap meat, egg nog, Claussen pickles, Taco Bell, Chili's, and other delights. I even started to get tired of it. Now I'm getting a little twinge of wanting to go back, and voila, I just found out--two minutes ago, seriously--that the new kid in town can get on base again. Long story short, I am seeing the light on the value of the nation-state again. In answer to your question, I can't really think of anything that I really crave. Kiyomi's a good cook.

Do you think you're prepared for a big earthquake?

We have a decent amount of food, and the water that runs through our neighborhood is potable, so if we happen to be around here, I think we're okay. If one of us happens to be on the Oedo Subway line, for example, it will be bad, because that line runs 40m below the shifting earth. It's a long ride down even on escalators, so I'm sure burrowing out would be butt-hard.

How do people prepare in Japan?

They have annual neighborhood disaster preparedness activities. There are refuge locations established for every locale and signs all over directing to those locations (to which the Self Defense Forces would deliver food). Every neighborhood association has a disaster shed with some supplies and helmets and radios and stuff. Seismic standards for buildings are pretty stringent, so if the building you are in is newer than around 20 years, it'll probably be okay. Anytime an earthquake occurs, every TV channel immediately flashes the epicenter location and seismic strength on the screen. Every once in a while you can see the alert a few seconds before you feel the tremor. Same information appears for any other kind of event, such as a typhoon or flood, etc. I maintain a pretty decent looting plan in place for natural disasters, too. (This continuous plotting stems from when I spent New Year's 2000 here, and my buddy Edmundo and I made plans to commandeer the local grocery store and decide who got fed. You know, if the computers were to rise up. )

I think questions might just get this baby back up and running.

2010-11-01T19:03:00.001+09:00

if there were some questions, i might be able to work from those

2010-11-01T19:02:00.000+09:00

nope, nothing.

left

2010-08-04T10:22:00.006+09:00

I always lose or ruin contacts for my left eye, leading to a maddening surplus of rights. If I were forced to compose a Derek Theory about it, I'd be inclined to think the rights should be lost or ruined more often, since I'm right-handed (making me a sibling minority [thanks to the USS Gurnard reactor, I can only surmise]) and that would make my right hand (a) more likely to be dirty and (b) more likely to be the hand used to befoul my contacts, especially the right one. But no, it's the left. I haven't yet researched whether 1-800-CONTACTS.com (I would have personally tried to get the contacts.com domain once the internet writing was on the wall, but that's just me) is willing to supply only left contacts. I imagine they are.

These two hikers just spent two minutes staring at our vending machine, but not to try and determine their beverage choice. They were looking closely at some of the many insects that summer on the glass. I now wonder if I've got a rare bug basking in the unholy glow of Aquarius.

Yesterday I went to the barber for the first time in over a year. I'd been shaving my head solo for that time, but I have recently decided to grow it out for a bit. As I may have mentioned before, a haircut at a normal barber shop here includes a shampoo given by the real barber, followed by a cut given by the real barber, followed by a shave given by a barber acolyte with an old-school straight razor as recipient is lain horizontally in the chair, followed by another shampoo given by barber acolyte, followed by a light scalp and shoulder massage given by barber acolyte, followed by touch-up work (if necessary) given by real barber. It's a fine, relaxing, refreshing process. Yesterday was largely no exception, except I'm never satisfied with the straight-razor shave job.

There are three main reasons the shave is bad, in my estimation. (1) The barber acolyte is invariably a young man of 20 or so years, just out of school and learning the barber profession, so he is inexperienced in the wielding of straight razors and consequently misses spots. (2) The average Japanese man (with many exceptions, of course) does not have much facial hair, so the barber acolyte usually only has to find those places with whisker-arable skin and shave them accordingly. When a man whose entire face enjoys breadbasket status comes along, the acolyte is forced to leave some areas unharvested, since his allotted time for shaving is limited by the return of the real barber for mop-up work, and the real barber is of course his merciless taskmaster. (3) The barber acolyte has decided to devote his life to cutting hair, which in the case of Japan usually means his testosterone level is not particularly high. This means he has not had to do a lot of shaving of his own face, let alone strangers and with an old-timey straight razor. Indeed, his overall whisker acumen is low coming into the game. A bonus fourth reason: (4) I am somewhere between hairy and very hairy, but I am red-haired. A barber acolyte accustomed to shaving Japanese faces is inevitably going to rely on sight to locate his victims. In my case, though, whiskers can only be completely eradicated by touch. This isn't time-feasible, and at a glance, my face may look quite well-shaved. This is highly useful for when I miss a spot or neglect to shave at all for a shaveworthy occasion, but vexes me greatly when I have paid to have it done.

As always, though, I was satisfied with the overall experience. The full-service haircut definitely leaves one feeling completely groomed.

The reason I was able to notice and photograph the above hikers is that I am working out of doors during this Luciferian season of sticky heat. Overhead I have strung a UV-blocking tarp, and a fine breeze comes through until 3:00 p.m. or so. I suppose I could outfit the Tuff Shed with an air conditioner, but I don't need it to be that cool, and being outside is quite nice. Also, I made the table on which I am working, which justifiably or not, makes me feel extremely manly.

not the burden

2010-07-12T10:54:00.003+09:00

I submit this photo to assure you that

(a) I am a lovely, hobbit-like creature

(b) from the correct angle, my ankle and heel look sort of like an elbow

(c) the mosquitoes have rendered a definite verdict concerning which is the most succulent part of my foot (I would have predicted it to be my Aziz's Burden)

cleaning out the phone

2010-03-23T14:41:00.007+09:00

Getting a bunch of photos off the phone, I found a few to post.

Some things never get old. They stop drawing my notice, but they never get old.

We got a snow storm.

Kiyomi made yakisoba with a fried egg on top. Very recommended, along with most foods that have a fried egg on top.

A fine 500 yen ramen and fried rice meal.

Last week was the Ume-matsuri, or plum festival. I took a few photos, including this one of the old timers enjoying some sake. These are the neighbors that don't remember what the war was like here because they were actually fighting it elsewhere.

In the center are the former (with mask) and current (folding arms) neighborhood association presidents. They are both named Maeda, but aren't related.

The Ume-matsuri includes what is called a "stamp rally." People go to different neighborhoods participating in the festival and collect a different stamp from each on the pink paper you see. Something is fun about this. Really fun. The guy stamping is a former cop that tells me great cop stories when there is a drinking occasion.

Cotton candy. Fixing the cotton candy machine cost a couple hundred dollars last year (according to the 2009 neighborhood association financial report), but this year's sales made that back and then some.

Keeping the sake warm. Japan does not have stringent liquor laws; suffice it to say there was no checking of IDs.

Also for sale at the festival were home-grown fresh and pickled vegetables.

Like the man on the right, I was tasked with directing traffic. Our skinny road gets even skinnier with thousands of revelers and large buses coming through. Our direction of traffic helps us to feel better about the chaos that ensues, which is possibly exacerbated by that direction.

This is ramen from a place called Deura. With minced white onions instead of the usual green onions, and a little oil on top, it becomes Hachioji Ramen.

I took this picture while waiting for the Boss (I have been driving for him on Thursdays while handling forwarded client phone calls and doing some translating). I took the picture because the smoker on the right was clearly wearing a Gary Crowton-era BYU jacket. This greatly pleased me.

Kiyomi made a delicious beef-wrapped asparagus.

Now our neighborhood is in a glorious spring.

tokyo islands

2010-02-16T15:13:00.008+09:00

One translation job I did last year was a pamphlet showcasing several of the Tokyo Islands. Tokyo has over 200 islands under its jurisdiction, and the main ones are trying to get better known as tourist destinations, hence the need for an English pamphlet.

Once I finished the pamphlet and it was published, the semi-governmental entity overseeing the islands decided to invite press and public affairs people from foreign organizations to tour certain islands free of charge, hoping they would publicize them. I was tasked with recruiting English-speaking foreigners.

Once I got enough people recruited, the powers that be decided I could go along on two of the three tours. The first tour was at the end of November and went to Shikinejima and Niijima. Here are some of the (iPhone=low quality) pictures.

Our boat was a jet ferry fitted with Boeing engines. This goofy-looking vessel went fast enough that the waves weren't very noticeable, and something felt cool about kicking cargo ships' butts through Tokyo Bay.

One of the first places we went on Shikinejima. The island is really small and quiet. While I'm sure the people we met were the ones most interested in giving a good impression, the locals seemed genuinely cool.

This beach is cool because it's interspersed with hot springs--hot springs that will either heat and heal you or boil you, depending on the tides.

This outdoor hot spring is free, and the locals all come out to soak in the evening. At night the stars and waves are pretty amazing.

My room. The minshuku (pretty much a bed and breakfast) where I stayed would cost $50 a night or so.

Dinner

This fellow owns a little minshuku and is sort of the ambassador for Shikinejima. He has been on TV shows and things about the island. He invited me to get up an hour early so he could show me the best beach hot springs (meaning those that wouldn't boil me).

Habushiura Beach in Niijima.

A vat of unadulterated putrescence called kusaya. This food is fish soaked in a foul-smelling fluid and then baked. It's surprisingly good.

Cutting fish open amid a smell that could only come from Satan's bottom? I'll rank this among the less pleasant jobs I've seen.

The islands used to be where political dissidents and criminals were sent from Tokyo, and this cemetery is where some of them are laid to rest.

The people on the islands seemed a few decades behind Tokyo people, in a very good way.

Mokkosu

2010-02-16T15:01:00.002+09:00

Mokkosu in Hazama, Hachioji.

八王子・狭間　　黙古寿

7 out of 10

Rokkakudo

2010-02-16T14:55:00.002+09:00

Rokkakudo in Horinouchi, Hachioji.

八王子・堀之内　　六角堂

8 out of 10

two cents

2009-08-28T11:50:00.005+09:00

I have national health insurance in Japan, and care has been prompt, good and very cheap. Ambulances (I've never ridden one here, but family members have) come right away and don't cost much. There are no "death panels." If my wife or child needs weeks of intensive care or a major surgery, I can rest assured that I won't go bankrupt. My taxes are also lower here than they'd be in the States. My story is as limited in its relevance as the scary anecdotes trotted out by the right, but I think it bears mentioning.

Japan has its health care problems, of course.

In fact, there are health care horror stories in the U.S. and everywhere else, so it seems to me that people on both sides are just looking to confirm their beliefs in presenting them as evidence. My point in sharing my experience is that I like Japan's system a lot better, for whatever that's worth.

A short summary of my feelings, which I've previously shared here: I am going to be taxed in any event, so I would rather get something back in health care than see it go to waste on things like exorbitant defense spending. Would creating a government option be creating a monster? It's possible (though not assured), but there are a lot worse monsters about which we aren't shouting in the faces of senators.

i still like a coke though

2009-07-18T07:59:00.004+09:00

I really liked this article.

It contained such interesting facts as:

"Today, soft drinks account for about seven per cent of all the calories ingested in the United States, making them “the number one food consumed in the American diet.” If, instead of sweetened beverages, the average American drank water, Finkelstein calculates, he or she would weigh fifteen pounds less."

The above expains why I probably average about ten pounds less when I live in Japan.

There is also such hilarity/utter sadness as this:

"Consider the movie-matinée experiment. Some years ago, Wansink and his graduate students handed out buckets of popcorn to Saturday-afternoon filmgoers in Chicago. The popcorn had been prepared almost a week earlier, and then allowed to become hopelessly, squeakily stale. Some patrons got medium-sized buckets of stale popcorn and some got large ones. (A few, forgetting that the snack had been free, demanded their money back.) After the film, Wansink weighed the remaining kernels. He found that people who’d been given bigger buckets had eaten, on average, fifty-three per cent more.

In another experiment, Wansink invited participants to cook dinner for themselves with ingredients that he provided. One group got big boxes of pasta and big bottles of sauce, a second smaller boxes and smaller bottles. The first group prepared twenty-three per cent more, and downed it all. In yet another experiment, Wansink rigged up bowls that could be refilled, via a hidden tube. When he served soup out of the trick bowls, people, he writes, “ate and ate and ate.” On average, they consumed seventy-three per cent more than those who were served from regular bowls."

the days of my lives

2009-07-18T00:36:00.004+09:00

A lot has been going on. One thing is that I am not just translating things anymore. I am also helping a few clients do business or start to do business in japan. It has been good.

One client is a fashion boutique owner in Hong Kong. (So far no talk of cargo planes or rubber dog poop yet). He buys from fancy-pants Japanese fashion designers, and sometimes opens up exclusive stores for them in Hong Kong. He is sharp, really cool, rather impatient, and very fashionable.

Like many Chinese folks, he has an English name. I'll call him Harvey, though the name he goes by is a lot closer to being a nineteen-seventies presidential candidate's. He is sometimes a little gruff when things don't go well, but when i do him a favor, such as making an urgent call or getting a supplier to change payment terms, he shows his gratitude by calling me various things. Some that come to mind are:

Clever boy
Sweetest
Sweet (not the same as Sweetest)

and others that are hard to remember because of their sheer difficulty to recreate.

Also, when I first interpreted one of his meetings, I wore a suit. As you may guess , though, no one wears a suit in the fashion world. So harvey told me not to wear a suit the next time. Initially this made me happy, until I realized what a crutch a suit is to a man with no fashionable clothes. I spent quite a bit of time the night before the next job thinking out my fashion strategy. I decided khakis with a polo shirt would be sufficient. The next day I met Harvey and his two assistants. He was wearing a super-fancy t-shirt from some famous brand with a hermes scarf around his neck, etc. etc. I felt conscious of my outfit for the first time since like 1996. Harvey saw my insecurity and said "You look FASH." It was nice of him.

perspective

2009-05-28T07:47:00.001+09:00

These articles were on the front page of MSNBC today.

certain values of more

2009-05-27T15:00:00.003+09:00

I am definitely blogging more now...

So I hiked to work. It had been gnawing at me for a while, so this morning I finally decided to see how long it would take me to hike to my office, going over the mountains instead of around them. It took me about two hours, though I took one trail at the end that cost some time versus the other I could have taken. The route was highly circuitous, but very nice. It also featured numerous ups and downs, as Japanese hikes are wont.

In what I hope is not simply one of my sporadic instances of healthy living, I have been riding my bicycle (I have been in Japan long enough now that I cannot say "bike" without it meaning motorized two-wheeled vehicle in my mind) to the office. While it is only a few miles, there is a decent incline on the road to the office that helps me work up a nice man-sweat. The answer to your question regarding my work-time physical aroma is "Probably."

coming to terms

2009-05-02T09:14:00.001+09:00

Hi everybody. I haven't been blogging because of Facebook. I wish I could blame something else, but that's what it comes down to.

I basically like Facebook, but enough things about it bother me that I feel it is far inferior to blogging. For one, I don't want anyone to have to join something to see my posts, and if I want ghetto advertisements next to my posts, I'll sign up for them here and make the 4.7 cents/year for myself.

I have also been working a lot, which steers me toward making small status updates on Facebook in lieu of longer posts on here.

Ugh. I've written "Facebook" three -- wait, four -- times now. Something about even mentioning it by name bothers me.

Anyway, I'm going to post more. I don't want to be like Grant.

democracy in action

2009-03-16T18:27:00.006+09:00

As I mentioned before, I am on the rotating board of directors of the neighborhood association (hereafter chokai). This is a position that carries with it all the prestige of Cameroon being on the UN Security Council, except nobody wants to buy my vote.

As one of my first duties in the position, I was summoned to participate in the committee convened to select new neighborhood association leaders. Our previous president had served eight years and was ready to be done, and this necessitated the selection of a new president, two vice presidents, a treasurer, and a secretary.

The committee met on Sunday night at 7:30 P.M. (By the way, this association is for the house where Kiyomi's parents live, because we are the official inhabitants.) We made an evening of it and went to eat dinner there. I kept my suit on from church, not knowing what is appropriate attire for such an auspicious meeting. Kiyomi's parents, Kiyomi, Mimi and the cat all looked proudly on as I stepped out the door to do my civic duty.

When I got there at 7:28, most of the members were already around the knee-tall table sitting on cushions on tatami in the small chokai meeting hall, which is called the "Arai Club". The outgoing president, who quite likes me, was tickled that I would show up in a suit. No one else was terribly dressed up, and as he gushed about it I felt somewhat like I did the time fellow Sno Chateau resident Blaine went into my room, and seeing my suit hanging there there laughed delightedly,later reporting to fellow residents that "Red got a little suit; 'bout this big [air-measuring approximately a foot vertically] (note: Blaine did not intentionally speak with a semicolon)." We I bewilderedly asked another guy living there why he would be so tickled, the guy explained that "He thinks of you as his little friend."

The meeting got going right on time, as even inconsequential Japanese meetings are wont to do. The first order of business was for the outgoing president to explain the process of selecting a committee chairman, and then selecting a president, etc. The selection committee consisted of former presidents (excluding the outgoing one), the rotating board of directors, and current position-holders. Each committee member was asked to introduce himself, and when I introduced myself the outgoing president told everyone where I am from, how I had just started a company there and named it Jataki Shokai (after the beloved neighborhood landmark), and other facts that made my intro quite long.

The outgoing president left after this explanation, and after nominating the guy most likely to succeed him (by virtue of having served as vice president so long) as chairman of the selection committee. This was a funny moment, because the guy he nominated knew, along with everyone else except possibly me, that he was likely to be selected as the new president, but worried that his being the chairman of the selection committee would look bad when he eventually did become president, but couldn't exactly cite his likely selection as why he ought not be selected as committee chairman. He is also a mild-mannered, warm fellow who wouldn't want to disagree with the outgoing president, adding to the awkwardness.

This potential source of disturbances in the force was a little worrisome to most present, but the grand tradition of having former presidents was revealed for its genius when, as if on cue, the two former presidents began to opine that the spanking-new committee chairman was in fact the best choice as president. These presidents veteran were the first to speak in the committee's deliberations - this was proper procedure, and no one would have dared to speak before they had their sage say - and obviously no other candidate was nominated after that.

Of course it flashed through my mind that this didn't seem like a complete deliberation, but I quickly realized that this is the way things are done, and the venerable former presidents were right on the money.The prospective new president made sure to go around to each committee member and request their opinion, eliciting a modicum of committee comment. When the time came for me to comment, I offered my opinion that president is a tough job that one should be lauded for fulfilling, that he was the man for the job, and I would be happy to support him. The several committee members I hadn't yet met (I'd say our association has about 50 to 100 households) who didn't yet know me sort of got bug-eyed that the dog was talking.

With every one's assent secured, the motion to select the new president carried unanimously in the affirmative, and the trickier business of vice president-, treasurer- and secretary-selection ensued. This is where it got interesting for me.

Our chokai is divided into three sections: shimo (downhill), naka (middle), and kami (uphill). We are part of kami. The new president had been selected from shimo, and the more vocal of the former presidents opined that someone from kami should serve as vice president. One man living near us was mentioned, but his wife, who was present in his stead, politely refused the position for him, citing his business (strongly pronounce the 'i'). I began to sense that being vice president or any other position in the chokai is not exactly coveted by most folks. At that refusal-of-nomination, the former president set his wise gaze upon me. I was startled. I thought "Oh my, he's about to nominate me." Sure enough, he said "Well then why not have Derek here do it?"

All eyes were now upon me, and I looked at the new president. He had a slightly concerned look on his face. I could tell that he had nothing against me, but he probably already had someone in mind for the job. I said "I'd be happy to help any way I can in the chokai, but I do worry that I am quite new in the area (four and a half years is probably 1/5 to 1/10 the average time most committee members have spent in the area) and I might not be as qualified or knowledgeable as some others."

These words were well received, and the president quickly rolled out his proposals to head off any further departures from SOP. His nominations were quickly approved, and the presently serving treasurer was selected to continue treasuring.

Then came the secretary position. The former president who had previously nominated me was still desirous that someone from kami serve a position, and again nominated me. This time, everyone got really vocal and voiced their assent, the new president included. Again everyone was looking at me for a reply, and first I asked "What does the secretary do?" This caused momentary discussion, which resulted in a reply of "Mostly the secretary attends all the meetings and takes minutes." I then said "Like I said, if I can help, I'd like to." The motion carried, and the meeting soon adjourned so that those who were not present but had been selected could be notified by a home visit from designated visitors, who were tasked with coercing selectees into accepting their respective positions.

So now I am the secretary-select of the chokai. I am excited for the first meeting, where I'll whip out my laptop to take minutes, and I imagine the sixty and seventy year-old faces around the table will look similar those of the Enchantment Under the Sea dance attendees following Marty McFly's nasty Johnny B. Goode guitar solo.

night music

2009-03-09T21:31:00.003+09:00

I usually listen to music while working. I can go without, but I prefer to go with.

Working during the day and working at night are completely different activities to me, and require completely different music. Also, working with words as I do, the music I listen to while working must not take my attention away so much that I can't think about sentences and say them in my head uninterrupted.

Here are some of the daytime albums that I fancy. Many of the albums I listen to in daytime have a night alter-album from the same artist (Also, if you notice that nothing is new, it's because I haven't bought much music recently. What I do have is usually gotten from others. Let my friends never stop selecting new music for me.):

Radiohead - In Rainbows

Beck - The Information

Cake - Fashion Nugget

Cat Stevens - Foreigner

Arcade Fire - Funeral

Band of Horses - Everything All the Time

The Killers - Hot Fuss

Canadian Brass - Champions

James Taylor - One Man Dog

The Streets - Original Pirate Material

Hall and Oates - Greatest Hits of some kind

Beach Boys - Endless Summer

Here are the night albums. They are pretty much old friends, having gotten me through many a lonely night of work. Have I mentioned that working all night is one of the loneliest things in the whole world to me? It is. I tend to reach nearly utter despair around 3:12 A.M.

Radiohead - Kid A/Amnesiac

Kings of Convenience - Quiet is the New Loud/Riot on an Empty Street

Nick Drake - Bryter Layter

Willie Nelson - Willie Nelson's Greatest Hits

Beck - Sea Change

Cat Stevens - Tea for the Tillerman/Teaser and the Firecat

Daft Punk - Human After All (particularly when I get drowsy)

Christopher O'Riley - True Love Waits (this night gem I'd never have known if not for Aaron)

Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young - So Far

Tan Dun - Hero Original Soundtrack

Jeff Buckley - Grace

Doves - The Last Broadcast

There are way more, too.

A lot of these albums contain parts that make me do insane harmonies and sometimes lyrical flourishes that I might be embarrassed to have observed, but which usually make me titter to myself gleefully. In fact, I bet you'd pay five bucks to see some of them.

Anyhow, I am very happy to not have the gene that makes one get tired of the same music. I will shamelessly and happily listen to these albums over and over for years to come.

one more picture

2009-03-03T13:59:00.002+09:00

This picture was just so [fill in the vulgar intensifier or euphemism of your choice] idyllic, I had to add it as well.

plums

2009-03-02T12:38:00.006+09:00

Uratakao is a cold place in the winter. It's on the north side of Mount Takao, and the Kobotoke River running through it keeps the air humid, so any wind bites pretty hard. Depending on where you are, the sun goes down as early as 3:00 p.m., and doesn't come up until ten or eleven.

That all makes the winter feel pretty long, but one thing that shortens it a bit is the blooming of the plums that starts in mid-February. You can't help but feel like spring is here when the air starts smelling like plum flowers and the pink, white and red trees start showing up.

Plum trees are really scraggly, which makes for a nice contrast when they bloom.

This is a flag advertising this Saturday's Ume Matsuri, or Plum Festival, to which many sightseers will be drawn. I skipped the first half of church yesterday to help put up these flags and spruce up the local shrine. I am on the rotating board of directors of the chokai 町会 (neighborhood association) this year, so I'll have to help out with a few events of this kind.

scotch egg

2009-02-22T19:23:00.003+09:00

Tonight, Kiyomi was wondering aloud what would be a good thing to eat for dinner. After we mentioned a couple of items, she said "I can make Scotch Eggs."

"Surely this is some funny Japanese food that somehow got a British Isles-influenced name but has no origin there, or only existed during the Meiji Era when Japan was adopting all sorts of funny British things that remain vestigially today*," thought I.

I had to acknowledge an intense interest, though, which was perhaps a product of my recently discovered fascination with food items that have a British Isles-influenced name (Exhibit A [there's no B]).

That is what brought about tonight's delightful meal, which I can only predict will become a family mainstay for us. A Scotch Egg is a hard-boiled egg wrapped in sausage and then breaded and fried. You can learn the rest at the Wikipedia entry, which has got me determined to buy one at a convenience store if my travels ever take me to England.

Our version, which is the Japanese version according to Kiyomi, had ground beef and onions instead of sausage. This food holds a special place in Kiyomi's heart, because it was periodically offered as a school lunch item in her junior high and high school years. She recalled that it was one of the more expensive meals when it was offered, fetching a princely 550 yen from students that fancied the delicacy.

My first-ever Scotch Egg was delicious. It had the pleasantly crispy outer coating that all good fried foods have (and which makes breaded, fried anything taste good, even okra), but the meaty deliciousness of a meatloaf or Hamburg steak, and then, well, a hard-boiled egg, which in all its simplicity is a food I will always think of as moderately delicious (and most importantly, eminently available).

I am quite eager to sample what Wikipedia claims is the real version, the one made with sausage. I expect great things out of it.

*Japan has a genre of food called yoshoku 洋食, which technically means "western food," but really means "food that appeared Japan in the late 1800s and has either been frozen in time while its European brothers have evolved into unrecognizable incarnations, or has been so bastardized by Japanese interpretation as to be a uniquely Japanese food, yet its origins banish it to the western food category." Some items in this category are the hambaagu (Hamburg steak), which is garnished with grated Japanese radish and soy sauce or ponzu as often as it is with demi-glace sauce; omuraisu (an omelette whose filling is rice that may or may not also include a meat or other item, but usually has the color and chief flavor of ketchup [or catsup if you prefer]; tonkatsu (breaded pork cutlet [the "katsu" being short for the Japanized "katsuretsu"]), which so captured Jonny's tender heart during his visit here as to necessitate our eating it some five times in seven or so days, neither of us tiring of it (indeed, it is as though despite Jonny's subsequent nuptuals, he has left a lost love in Japan for which he pines, and that love is tonkatsu, with whom I frequently dally in his absence); shichu (stew), which while somewhat similar to the stews Americans and like-bred countries enjoy, is a distinctively Japanese food that comes in roughly two versions: White, which is a hopelessly creamy affair of eponymous color and usually contains only potatoes, carrots, broccoli and onions (though I have prevailed upon Kiyomi to add chicken most of the time now), and Brown, which is close to Dinty Moore beef stew in its composition, but not as thick and with a shinier sauce. Both stews are served over rice as frequently as they are served with bread, though I unsurprisingly prefer bread.

one more picture

2009-02-17T08:22:00.004+09:00

Here is the promised picture of how the office is situated in relation to the vending machine. This is an important geographical relationship to note, of course. I need to count the exact number of steps it takes to procure an Aquarius tall-boy and get back, then make that number of steps part of some para-religious ritual.

I quite like gazing upon Mt. Takao in the background and composing gangsta haiku, too.

in a day

2009-02-12T22:17:00.008+09:00

As you know, I rented an office a couple months ago and recently posted a ohoto series featuring it in various tasteful poses. After I got into that office, I came to the conclusion that I would go ahead and incorporate, rather than continuing as a freelance translator. There are several advantages to doing so, chief of which being that I can get better paying work.

I started the incorporation process this week, which in Japan, consists of the following:

1. Have an administrative scrivener 行政書士 (i.e., someone with the knowledge and sheer bravery to navigate bureaucratic red tape) create articles of incorporation for you. These articles will include your company name, address, amount of capitalization, areas of business (meaning you have to determine and declare in advance in approximately what kinds of work you will engage), organizational structure, the period of your accounting year, and other exciting information.

2. Get three official company seals (rubber stamps) made: (1) A seal with your company and company title on it (実印), (2) A seal that will be used in banking affairs (銀行印), and (3) A seal with just the company name (社印). These seals will end up on any document, contract, or other item of importance in which your company engages.

3. Have the administrative scrivener go to the local Legal Affairs Bureau 法務局 and register 登記 your company, which includes a number of fees, chief of which is a registration fee of about $1,500.

4. Submit proof of deposit of the amount of money that you have designated is the company's capitalization. This amount is public record, and can be interpreted as a sign of a company's legitimacy (or lack thereof).

5. Pay the noble scrivener a grand or so.

I am actually waiting on the seals to be made, which should be next Tuesday or so. After that, it should only be a couple days. Then I'll be the president. Of something.

The company name I have settled on is J a t a k i S h o k a i. Exciting name, I know. I thought about putting my name in the company name, or making it something English, or using words that describe the work I do, but I settled on this. J a t a k i is the name of a famous waterfall on Mt. Takao, and its name means "Snake Falls". It is a short hike from our place. S h o k a i just means "company" (or perhaps "commercial group"), but it's a little more old school than the word kaisha 会社 that is usually used to say company.

Once I was set to start the company, I thought about my office situation and started looking into building an office on the property that I and Kiyomi's brother own, right across the street from Souji and Kuniko. That property already hosts the famous vending machine (still profitable), but is otherwise just a concrete foundation where we park cars.

I looked at various kinds of prefabricated and similar buildings, all of which were fairly expensive. Then I saw an advertisement for what are called "unit houses". These buildings are basically glorified kit-based sheds like folks have in their backyards, but with locking doors and windows, carpet, and insulated wall panels. The big do-it-yourself chain store Cainz Home (kind of like Home Depot) had them on sale. I decided to buy a one-room, 9.2 square meter (about 100 square feet) model for $3,600, which price includes everything: materials, transport, labor and tax. My logic was that if I am going to be working for more than a year, the money I would spend on my $300/month office/apartment would soon exceed what I could own outright. I also reasoned that working in beautiful environs at the foot of Mt. Takao would be very nice. The property faces the forests of Mt. Takao, and abuts the Kobotoke River. I'll get to look outside at the trees and hear the river, and when the mood hits me, I'll go for hikes.

Convinced by my musings, I went ahead with buying it, and today was the big construction day. One guy came with a truckload of materials and magically threw it up in about eight hours. He did it all alone. It was a sight to see, and I took phone photos of the process for posterity.

This view is a lot better in person, and will get greener in the next few months. The river flows below the railing you see, and the falls after which my company is named lie a little bit up the mountain you see at top right.

This all means that I am pretty sure I'll be in the translation business for the rest of my working life. I am taking time off from school right now, but I'll eventually finish. Right now I am going to focus on the company, though. It's genuinely exciting to be starting it. Luckily, unlike a new business, I already have clients that I can just have pay the company instead of me. This makes it pretty much impossible not to succeed in terms of profitability, since I am still working alone with no overhead.

bailout hilarity

2009-02-04T16:11:00.004+09:00

Reading this article about Wells Fargo's now-infamous attempt at holding a Las Vegas junket after being bailed out, I laughed aloud (I did not roll on floor laughing, however) at this part:

"'In light of the current environment, we have now decided to cancel this event as well,' the company said Tuesday night in a news release that also said it had never planned to use taxpayer bailout money for the trip."

I'm relieved to know that Wells Fargo keeps their $25 billion bailout and Las Vegas junket kitty in separate shoe boxes. That's something I always tried to do in my halcyon days of Las Vegas revelry.

the office

2009-01-22T11:07:00.003+09:00

I rented an office. I just couldn't focus on work the way I needed to at home. I couldn't just sit on my butt when I needed to, either. Yes, my working hard and hardly working were both in peril.

I had thought about renting an office previously, but dismissed the idea as too expensive, at least when compared with the alternative of working at Starbucks or McDonald's and their ilk. The main problems with Starbucks and McDonald's and their ilk, though, are the unreliable power sources and my natural tendency to consume their food and beverages. With McDonald's, some stores have outlets just for laptops, while others are vigilant to keep people from using any outlet. McDonald's locations also often have a hard time separating smoking from non-smoking areas (not to mention the occasional smorking area, which is the most delicious and unhealthy of all). Starbucks is expensive, and I can't begin drinking a hot or iced chocolate of their making without completely finishing it. Their food is fairly lousy, too. On top of all that, I am bad at weathering the looks that are given to a customer that spends four hours or more in the same seat.

I then had an epiphany, which was that there are many very cheap apartments in existence in and near Hachioji, and lacking a need to host customers, I could easily rent one of those and work there in utter silence, noise, concentration, or laziness. I looked around on a few apartment-hunting Web sites, and found many under the $400/month limit I mentally set for myself. They were almost all one-bedroom shoe boxes meant for some sad college student or single worker bee to inhabit. Such a place would have been fine for my purposes, but then I found a two-bedroom apartment for $300/month, with no money down (not "No, money down!", mind you). I snapped it up.

It is located on the second of two floors between two other apartments, the three of which sit atop two "snack" establishments, which in Japan are a kind of bar. I think the price was low because there are no bathing facilities (there is a toilet, though). Kiyomi suggested that maybe someone died there. That's what she assumed about our cheap apartment too. Both times she has raised this possibility, I have expressed how I don't mind if someone died where I live/work. In fact, if they died in my office and are haunting it, maybe they can help me with some of the insane Japanese I encounter when translating.

What better place to start than the fabulous washiki toilet? If you know me, you know my feelings about these beauties. The slippers? In Japan, any respectable home has a pair of slippers just for the toilet, because it is an unclean place and the other parts of a home are clean. I have always resisted this, but for some reason I acquiesced for the office. Maybe I wanted to assuage Kiyomi's slight disapproval (which is now approval) at renting the place.

Here is the kitchen. I opted to not even have gas installed, and the empty pizza boxes you see occupy where the stove would normally be. Don't worry, I eventually threw the boxes out.

Here is where all the translation magic goes down. I keep the hot water pot right next to me, which leads to my drinking massive amounts of herbal tea. I stopped drinking soda when I got the pot, because I became too lazy to go out to a vending machine and get it. It has been good to keep the blood sugar steady, though.

The lamp on my desk is the only source of light other than a dim fluorescent bar above the sink. I realized that I had no light in the room when it got dark on my first day of working there. Now I turn on the small lamp, and it's still very dim, but just right to see the keyboards. I also enjoy being in a dim room, even though people in Japan refuse to accept this. Anyway, this may be a cliche, but I truly love lamp.

My desk is a kotatsu, which means it's got a heater underneath, hence the blanket. I find it very hard to work in a chair with legs anymore. My way is very pleasant, and I can work a good 12 hours here if I have to. Also, you haven't sat for hours on end until you've sat for hours on end on a tatami mat (that was an obligatory instance of overrating something Japanese, which is a favorite pastime of mine).

You can see that I work right next to the window, which is unfortunately frosted glass. I sit next to a small space heater. You can also see that I have a lot of unused space. Every once in a while I will do some push-ups here. I have also used the space to dance around disturbingly (or is it disturbedly?), because no one can stop me. If Karl Malone were to evaluate my office, he would remark that "Cheeth can do whatever he want to in there."

I have a closet that currently doubles as my refrigerator (score one for drafty Japanese apartments), but I prefer to hang my work clothes on the nails that I drove into the timbers. I also hang my push-up bars there. One of my morning rituals is to come in and take off my pants, then slip on a nice set of coveralls for the day's labors. I'm a twisted sort of Mr. Rogers in that regard. Getting into the coveralls puts me in the mood to work, and they are eminently comfortable.

There is also the other, still-empty room between the kitchen and the room in which I work. My friend Dave is considering moving in there to similarly escape his family as he translates. This will make the arrangement even more economical. And don't worry, we escape our families because we love them. (And also because I can order a pizza for lunch without wifely oversight.)

just in case

2009-01-22T10:58:00.002+09:00

If you happen to go to Hachioji, but for whatever reason you wish to avoid me, that's fine. Just go eat a burger at this place. They fix a great burger. It's no Greek burger, but I'd still go there even if it were in the States.

a small trip to kyoto

2009-01-20T10:45:00.005+09:00

I have been busy, but not so busy I couldn't blog. I've been purposely and maliciously snubbing you all, plain and simple.

So I went to Kyoto on Friday and came home Saturday. I went to see Zack (of pop culture showdown fame), who now lives and works there. One great thing about Zack (in addition to his well-known mania for Lego brand toys) is that he enjoys a long walk as much as I do, so we walked through Kyoto for a few hours before I went back.

I took some more phone camera photos, which genre has grown on me, I think because they carry no expectations of quality and can only please.

This poster is displayed in front of the police station next to Kyoto Station. It depicts the still-at-large Aum Shinrikyo cult-member terrorists from the 1995 subway attacks, and reminds us that if we all look closely for people in sunglasses and/or beards, we might just catch 'em yet.

I quite enjoyed this English menu outside a restaurant. I theorize that the explicit notice of their product not being Kobe beef stems from expectant foreigners getting cheesed after realizing they weren't eating it. The emotional and inquisitive ambiguity of the second sentence is the gem, and the overall change in tone from the beginning to end of the short message is priceless. It ends how any disagreement should: "Aw hell, let's just eat some great beef!"

I surmised that I could perhaps stay there, as I am a young man. Then Zack questioned whether I am indeed a young man anymore. I conveniently defined young man as under thirty, but hedged by declaring that I will always consider myself a young man. At least until I develop my inevitable case of heart disease.

Speaking of heart disease, we ate a superb meal of grilled meat. In fact, we ate all that we could, taking advantage of the restaurant's offering that celebrated format of meal. The food was very delicious, as expected, but the surprise - shall I call it the Subway Sub of the Game? - was their delectable selection of sodas. We agreed that sodas made from club soda and syrup are the best. Also, the lime soda was very tart and not too sweet, as a respectable lime soda should be.

back

2009-01-04T17:03:00.001+09:00

I am back to using Terminal theme on Gmail. I am convinced that some benefit awaits me by using it.

hotels

2008-12-26T11:45:00.003+09:00

Having lived in hotels for a few of the last several days, I have come to the conclusion that I prefer to never have my room cleaned during my stay. For me, a bath towel that I have used for two days without washing it is still probably a lot cleaner than my own towel at home, and I have no need to have the bed remade, especially since I will just have to wrench the blankets off again to make it sleepable.

Come to think of it, why is it that hotel bed-making has become an affair where the maid stretches the sheets and blankets across the mattress as though they are canvas on a prairie schooner? Does she have special tools to achieve this massive pressure? Do any of you masochistically squeeze yourselves into such a bed without loosening it? This kind of tight bed bothers me mainly because I want some loose sheets or blankets to wrap around my feet, and having a very high pressure on the top makes it impossible to keep the sides close and warm.

I think I would actually dislike having a maid at home, too. Having a stranger picking up my stinky socks and making the bed (or, more accurately, folding up my futon [not the American kind]) would simply make me feel guilty enough to do those things myself, negating the need for a maid. Was Neil Young wrong after all? Does a man not need a maid?

the germans revolt

2008-12-24T08:46:00.003+09:00

I'm going to level with those of you who expect a review and say that if one is forthcoming, it will be after I have seen the fourth incarnation of the concert, and not a moment sooner.

I am back in Tokyo after working the two shows in Nagoya. Those shows went well. The first one was a rehearsal for us, because we were only scheduled to film the second. I was sure this meant that we would sort of sit where we'd be filming and watch, plotting camera angles or something. Instead, we were made to stand in one of the portals and watch from there. This wasn't too bad, but it wasn't very comfortable.

Plus, we had to stay out of the walkways. This sounds simple, but I am so used to Japan that I often forget how I am always subconsciously thinking about how to stay out of the way. This is not an innate, but a learned, Skinner box thing that one acquires after living here for a long time and getting thousands of crusty looks or shoulder brushes that say "This country is small and you are in the effing way". So while I was in full Japanese mode, the Germans were naturally thinking "I can see a little better when I stand a little in the aisle, rather than against this wall where the overseers told me to stay through this odd red-headed interpreter." I then had to be the party pooper, endlessly henpecking them to stay out of the way, or stop jabbering in Alemanian during ballads, or what have you. This is a role I despise, because of my shameless need to feel loved by all.

After that show was over, we had to put up the wires and ropes that support the camera. This is quite an undertaking, because those wires must span the entire stadium. The engineering of it is interesting, but the quick timing that is sometimes required to string 150 meters of steel cables and ropes does not lend itself to interpretation. Imagine an angry (mostly just anxious) Clemens shouting instructions in his second or third language, then having me shout those instructions in Japanese to a guy next to us who says them again in Japanese into a radio to the people across the dome. Oh yeah, Clemens and I are both holding thin steel wires whose tension is around 30 kilograms in our hands, and if we drop the wires, the job will return to the start and take an extra forty minutes. This was not relaxing.

As the preceding indicates, I was tasked with both linguistic and manual labors. This was actually fun, and I couldn't have enjoyed the job if I had been uninvolved with the (literal) heavy lifting to which my customers were subject. I'd have felt like a real milly. Some workers had to build us a tower for one side of the dome, so that the lines would be approximately level. This tower was made of scaffolds and trusses, and was weighted down on its base by many 30 kilogram weights that were each a little larger than a shoebox. When all was done, I had the choice of waiting for the workers to come from their many tasks to remove these weights (the superstructure and wires were already down), or to start carrying them down the stadium steps myself. I chose the latter, and worked up a respectable man sweat. One rather wiry worker put me to shame by holding one in each arm and going faster than me. I wouldn't take his job in a million years, but I was envious of the physical training his job gives him. Envious in a very armchair quarterback way.

The next day was the actual filming. The camera system in question requires a camera operator who essentially plays Nintendo by watching a screen and moving the joystick that controls the camera's zoom, focus, and movement, etc., and a guy who runs the camera back and forth along its wire. I was hired to interpret as Andy controlled the camera movements and a Japanese guy played Nintendo. But then our main overseer found that he was proficient in the former task and Andy became a peripheral role player, as did I. This was fine with everyone involved, and I spent most of the second show trying to stay awake.

Clemens stayed up on the tower, three meters under which the camera and wire motor operators sat. We were under very strict rules about using light, because we were in a dark place located behind and to the left of the stage, from an audience perspective. When Clemens and Andy changed the camera batteries at one point, they were swiftly chided by radio for using light, even though the task was obviously impossible without it. This was a classic Japanese moment, where the powers that be don't give a crap that what you are doing is necessary and beneficial to them, they just need all appearances to be perfect. Clemens ranted to me in accented English on this subject, and I could not muster a plausible explanation as to why the bosses would be so obtuse. All my powers were busy being mustered to keep me from laughing at the absurdity of the situation, and on many levels at that.

After the show, but before the audience had left, Clemens began climbing up the tower again to start the removal process. Our main boss, who was running the camera back and forth on the wires, did not want him to climb up there until the lights went up. The boss feared that we would again draw the ire of the touchy stage and venue staff for moving out of turn. I tried to stop Clemens, but his (perhaps selective) hearing did not function at that moment, and he climbed up as the boss strenuously opposed him. The boss was so busy that he left his finger pressing the button that caused the camera to zip in our direction unfettered. Mind you, there is no automatic stop or padding system in place for the event that the camera runs into the tower. As the boss forgot his most important task and hissed for Clemens to get down, Clemens looked from his perch to see his beloved camera - the system he had spent a day and a half building lovingly - screaming toward him as the only man who could stop it shouted at him obliviously. He began shouting "Stop stop stop stop stop!", at which point I too noticed the camera's impending fate and expertly interpreted "Stop stop stop stop stop!", just as the camera reached Clemens.

This tragic comedy ended with Clemens deftly stopping the camera's precious lens from slamming into the metal truss just as the boss realized his folly and stopped the motor. Everyone was in shock as this transpired. Somehow, the camera was unscathed, and Clemens managed not to fall off the top of the three meter tower with no railings. Clemens did not manage to avoid being super pissed off, though. I scrambled up to him, because I knew a tirade was about to ensue, and that I had better take the brunt of it, just the way Clemens took the brunt of the camera. I did, and he vented extensively as expected, making several logical points and arguments as to why the boss was an idiot and completely at fault.

There are a couple of schools of interpreting thought in this sort of situation. The one I have heard most (and it's probably correct) is that no matter what the statement from one of the parties, an interpreter must faithfully communicate the expressions used, regardless of the consequences. The other school is to bridge cultural gaps by softening or strengthening expressions and tailoring them to the target language, in order to facilitate the purpose of the task at hand. I chose the latter in this case, not least because I knew we had another couple of concerts to do in Tokyo.

Once the time was right,the boss came up to the tower. He was very aware that his fault was significantly greater, but his pride wouldn't let him apologize. To be fair, there was somewhat of a chicken and egg argument, too. As the boss put it, "If you hadn't gone running up the tower, I'd have been able to focus on moving the camera". From the residual German and English profanities still trickling out of Clemens, I judged that it was not in everyone's mutual interest to translate this either, so I used a linguistic alchemy of sorts to change this inflammatory statement into a lukewarm apology and inquiry about Clemens's general state of health. Everyone calmed down after a while. Or should I say "for a while".

The arrangement for after the show was for the stage people to wait fifteen minutes while we dropped the wires, since otherwise we'd have to wait a couple hours while everyone below got out of the way. This is what we prepared for, and the Germans and I got on the tower with radio in hand, ready to begin the process. We simply had to wait for a go ahead. We waited for about twenty minutes, continually hearing that the moment was coming anytime. Then I noticed that the stage people were totally breaking things down, and we weren't going to be dropping any wires on them. This became apparent to the Germans too, and they began doing other tasks. After an hour or so, they were getting very agitated that their turn had not arrived as promised. I went between them and the bosses, but the situation was not one that could really be changed, since once the breaking down of the stage starts, it must carry on until done. The situation could only really be explained.

Clemens and Andy again worked on other things for a while, but they began to see that they were going to be some of the last people out of the building. This was most displeasing to them. They demanded a conversation with the guy that had promised us a chance to drop the wires, but he was very busy, and could only really say "Yeah, well, you're screwed". In the meantime, our immediate boss - the boss of almost killing Clemens fame - had slipped off to Tokyo without telling us except by an intermediary.

The Germans demanded to know why the plan had not been executed, and why it was our lot as camera staff to wait for everyone else (the background to this is that in Japan, the camera staff is the least prioritized entity in a concert situation). They were pissed, I mediated, and eventually we got the lines down and back to our hotel at around 3:00 a.m. I bought both of my charges a cold beer (they are Germans after all) at the nearby convenience store. I did this in response to Clemens informing me that upon completion of a job, it is a German custom that a cold beer is given to all workers. I can dig that, and I enjoyed a Canada Dry Mellow Pear soda, which I highly recommend if you can get one.

Now Clemens has gone back to Germany to spend Christmas with his family, and another fellow named Rudy will come in his place for the Tokyo shows. I have to go there tomorrow morning, which is too bad, but it ought to be another interesting time.

dome for the holidays

2008-12-20T12:37:00.004+09:00

I have a lot of time on my hands, so I think I'll wax long in blogging now.

As advertised, I came down here a couple days ago. I rode the Shinkansen to Nagoya. I think I will never get tired of riding it.

We have spent the past lots of hours in the Nagoya Dome making preparations for tonight's concert, which we will watch, and tomorrow's, which we will film. I mean, which my customers will film.

As I mentioned, the two Germans who I accompany (named Andreas and Clemens) are technicians who deal with the overhead cameras that are used to make the videos of concerts more exciting than the concerts actually are. Their product basically consists of a high-definition camera and an automatic stabilization system, which balances the camera and its batteries, etc. right to left and front to back.

The camera and its wireless signal are working fine, but the stabilization system is having problems, so Clemens and Andy are troubleshooting endlessly while I moonlight on my computer as a translator. Occasionally I need to arrange things for them, such as tools or workspace, or I interpret conversations they have with relevant staff. Most of the time I have been waiting, though every once in a while they need me.

Clemens and Andy are two fine gentlemen. Andy is a 25 year-old pudgy student. He works hard, speaks slightly better English than his older co-worker, and sports a massive plumber's crack during all work activities. As for the forty-or-so Clemens, if he didn't wear the clothes of our century, he would look like a daguerreotype of some duke from the Ottoman Empire. He has a great goatee and a serious expression. He occasionally lights up with laughter and has a good sense of dry humor, though.

My sole responsibility is to stay with them and ensure that their requests, opinions and other communications are accurately conveyed to their Japanese counterparts in the broader camera and show organizations. This has been fairly easy so far, and I haven't been worked terribly hard yet. During the shows things might get hairy, but everyone seems to have tempered expectations of what can be communicated and how quickly.

Today's concert begins at six and ends at nine, after which we will spend all night stringing the wires and making final preparations to film the second concert. Clemens and Andy are under some pressure to fix the stabilization system, and have been working hard all morning. A few minutes ago, something bad happened, and the normally reserved Clemens let loose with a magnificent display of German profanities. I can't really relate how awesome it was, but dude, it was awesome. In the time since, he has said "shit" in German numerous times. I now know it has myriad conjugations and forms. Hearing an angry German swear is one of those scenes where the origins of stereotypes become imaginable, similar to hearing an English scholar speak or seeing a guy with a mullet peel out in a Trans Am.

With such instances as the preceding, I have of course gotten very interested in learning German. Unfortunately, they are so busy I am loathe to bother them with German questions except during downtime such as taxi rides and meals. I can pick up a few words now, though, since there are many similar ones to English. One such experience was when I heard Andy say "Alles klar". This was of course great. Later, I pulled out "Alles klar, Herr Kommisar?" at an opportune time, and this was received with laughs which were genuine, as far as I can tell. They could also just be waiting to push me off the catwalk to my sweaty death in a swirling sea of pubescence.

Working with them has also reaffirmed what I sometimes take for granted: That Japan is on the whole very inflexible and serious when in comes to rules, procedures and overall work environment. In my mind, Germans are pretty serious too, and I have seen this at work as Clemens and Andy have worked. I remarked to one of our Japanese overseers that the combination of Germans and Japanese people on this job has led to great thoroughness and efficiency, and he agreed. He allowed as how Americans have done the most slipshod work in his many filming experiences. I can live with that characterization, since on this sort of job I just pretend I am Japanese and everyone seems satisfied with the result. However, the Germans have also been taken aback on a couple of occasions as the inevitable "only in Japan" rules for where we can work and other things have come up.

Overall, though, the engineering prowess of my charges and the people who have designed and built the structures on and with which we work has impressed me greatly. Working with words all day as I do, it has been refreshing and interesting to see people build and operate highly complex things.

I didn't have any clean socks to pack, so I wore the same pair for the first two days (with predictable results), and then went with no socks this morning until I could slip away to buy some a couple hours ago. The reason I share this bewildering anecdote, other than my time surplus, is that I want to impress upon you all the wonderful things socks are. I am certain that my overall state of happiness has increased twenty percent since I pulled off my sweaty running shoes and put socks on after the purchase.

That reminds me of the other nice thing with this job: I don't have to wear a suit. This job and the previous subtitling job I mentioned before have shown me that the entertainment industry in Japan is a casual island in a sea of suits. It is really comfortable to work in whatever clothes I like.

christmas in exile

2008-12-18T08:49:00.002+09:00

I got a call on Wednesday asking if I could interpret for a series of concerts by the Japanese band Exile. The filming of a total of four concerts at Nagoya Dome and Tokyo Dome will take place over the next ten days. Those high-wire moving camera shots you see in concert videos are apparently best done using German technology, so the producers are bringing in Prussian (possibly Hessian?) mercenaries to fill this role. Apparently they speak English (oh please let Japan never learn English), so one such as me is needed to interpret the radio instructions they will receive from producers during the show. The very fun thing will be that I will have to accompany Zee Germans on the catwalks above the crowd for each concert. It is rare that a prospective client asks "Are you afraid of heights?" on an interpreting job.

(Random thought: I can't help but think that if you'd told, say, my grandparents in the 1940s that their grandson would one day interpret radio communications between the Japanese and a German mercenary, they might have been a little disappointed. Oh well, these Axis Powers are a little different.)

As for who the heck Exile is, at first I was only certain they were not the band that sang "Kiss You All Over". When I asked people such as Kiyomi who they are, I learned that they are "kind of a big deal", with their album "Exile Love" the best-selling album of 2008 in Japan, and their cover of Wham's "Last Christmas" the song I have been hearing in every public place for the last month. I asked a young person or two from church about the band, and they looked at me as if I live in a cave. That's fair. I do live in a cave for purposes of Japanese pop culture. The final event in my saga to know who Exile are was at the local grocer, where a large candy display featured the handsome band of fancy men looking back at me from above a stack of sundry sweets.

So it should be fun to meet a famous band around the communal catering table, where all are scheduled to dine during show preparations.

The bad part about the job is that I leave for Nagoya in about three hours from now, and there I will be until the 22nd. Then I will travel to the Tokyo Dome at 2:00 a.m. on Christmas Day, and will finish the Tokyo shows on the 27th. Christmas, thanks for the memories.

Doing this job, beside yielding a month's pay, will also hopefully get me connections for more lucrative work in the future. In fact, it already has. As I spoke with the man who hired me yesterday, I mentioned that I do written translation as well, to which he requested that I do the English subtitles for his upcoming movie about Hiroshima and Nagasaki. "That would be great", I replied.

So I'll enjoy Christmas at an Exile concert perched above a crowd of sweaty youth at Tokyo Dome with only an as-yet unknown German to keep me company. I'm sure it will be memorable.

cars

2008-12-17T15:49:00.002+09:00

This NY Times article is where I today first heard about Zipcar, which appears poised to rectify the overpriced car rental market. I like the idea.

Can this sort of thing not happen faster in other industries, such as 3% coming-and-going real estate, et al?

just an old-fashioned engrish

2008-12-15T18:07:00.006+09:00

It's not really Engrish as much as baffling. Unless the small-headed people here are indeed trying to loosen their respective loads.

Kuniko gave me these wieners today, to my great joy. I actually like Japan's sausages better than those of the States (excepting breakfast sausage, which is to sausage what Totino's is to pizza - a completely different version in its own right, yet still wonderful).

And imagine my double delight in finding that my wieners had been smorked. After all, a lot of people never even get the chance to taste the distinctively smorky flavor that makes a good Vienna sausage great.

if i may

2008-12-12T12:31:00.005+09:00

Forgive me for the indulgent self-reference, but this sort of thing fascinates me.

I receive traffic to this blog as a result of various Google searches, chief of which is "cheeth", often from public schools where a child has mistyped "cheetah". Other terms include "how to use a Japanese toilet" (I'm pretty happy that my explanation of this might actually be serving man) and "long to take train battalion", and could potentially come from "occidental defecators", though that fortunately hasn't yielded traffic yet.

But the one with which I am perhaps most pleased is that I am the second non-sponsored result for "def leppard apparel". Now I need to get some t-shirts and sell them. Maybe I can store them next to my new chorizo machine.

your local grocer

2008-12-09T11:32:00.004+09:00

For years, I've been meaning to post a picture of this small Hachioji grocer. I have never been inside, but I hear their Soylent Green selection is one of the best.

lean on my ample arm hair

2008-12-03T10:58:00.003+09:00

I have fairly hairy arms, though they do not appear as hairy as they would if I had dark-colored hair.

Mimi has realized that a good way to stand up is to grab a generous portion of this arm hair and pull. I can't bring myself to scream like a girl or tell her it hurts, though that would otherwise be my first reaction. If I did, she would lose the all-important "indestructible dad" paradigm that I plan on using to my advantage in the future.

for winter

2008-12-02T13:36:00.003+09:00

I got back, and things are nice in Japan. I am a lucky man to feel like I am coming home, whether arriving in Japan or in the States.

So I am sitting at a McDonald's doing a spot of work. I saw today for the first time that McDonald's recently introduced the Quarter Pounder in Japan. They are marketing it heavily, perhaps since Japan uses the metric system, and they don't usually know what a quarter pound is (see Pulp Fiction). I just had a Double Quarter Pounder, and it was good. The patties are quite large, aren't they?

Anyway, you can see that I have continued eating healthily since arriving back. The July-August trip to the States fattened me up considerably, and I am hoping to lose some of that weight in the next while. The problem is that when I go to the States, I don't feel nearly as fat as I do in Japan, because people there are so much bigger. The main reason I want to lose a little weight is that my small belly physically gets in the way. I find myself taking off my belt for extended sitting, and this is not something I want to perfect as a life habit.

The leaves are falling in Hachioji, though enough are left on the mountains to still look really nice. This is a good time of year, though it's getting quite cold. I think my avoidance of air conditioning is turning me into a weakling in the cold. I may soon have to again sit out on the porch in my skivvies to conquer cold. It's been a good ten years since Phil and I last did it.

something to think about

2008-12-01T02:49:00.004+09:00

I think I have posted or linked to it before, but it's interesting to watch this,

and then read this NY Times article about a general who, along with many other retired military officers, completely embodies the things Eisenhower warns of in the above speech. Interesting stuff.

2008-11-23T18:04:00.003+09:00

I love the Terminal theme newly introduced in Gmail. It makes my screen look like this.

This has a couple effects: One is that if I am checking my e-mail during class or other place where someone might disapprove of me doing so, the screen does not immediately appear to be a usual e-mail screen. The drawback is that they might think I am trying to hack NORAD or booting the snake game in DOS. The other effect is that I actually feel a little bit like an 80s computer whiz, except when the Compose Mail screen makes the text area word processor-white within the black and green.

And while you are gazing at my screen (which is to me a highly personal place) let me express my enjoyment that Google Chrome lets me place bookmark folders on the toolbar. If I was just too dumb to realize I could do it on Firefox too (I really don't know), please spare me your evangelical Mozillism. Chrome has not crashed on me yet, and Firefox did a couple times a week, so explain that if you're going to explain anything.

EDIT: I quit this theme after it bogged me down in hurried pre-flight email activity. War Games will have to wait.

buying american

2008-11-20T10:19:00.006+09:00

There's one American car newer than 1990 that I would buy, and that's a Jeep Cherokee (if I can find a Citation like my uncle Lee used to drive, or a Gremlin, all bets are off). Other than that, the Big 3 have made consistently unattractive, low-performance, low-quality automobiles for the past twenty years, with a very few exceptions. I have made my rant about bailouts, so I needn't rehash it here, except to ask this:

Do you think the American auto industry will start making cars you'd like to drive, paying its workers what they are worth and no more, and competing with foreign makers who sell on quality and not patriotic guilt, if they recieve a bailout?

I don't think they will.

And even if the ridiculously high number of industry-estimated lost jobs (3,000,000 or so) is correct, the government could better waste $75,000,000,000 by giving $25,000 to each of those 3,000,000 people, rather than to the companies that thought long and hard, and came up with

this,

and, for heaven's sake, this.

While its quality and style have been as bad as those of any American automaker, Ford deserves a small amount of credit (seven or eight should be about right) for not manufacturing a car that could make this illustrious sampling of my country's hideous wares.

If you are the owner of one of the above masterpieces, please accept my apologies and understand that I do not mean to offend those who have bought American. However, while I commend you for your patriotism, I am here to gently tell you that you don't need to pretend we make a decent car anymore. Buy a Toyota. The guilt you'll feel will wear off faster than a GM warranty.

a personal mutter

2008-11-19T21:13:00.005+09:00

One of the ways I know I am insane is how much talking to myself I do. I don't think I really need to be ashamed of this. Maybe I should be.

The following are actual things I caught myself saying aloud today:

[Guy comes walking past my apartment as I arrive home. He is whistling a happy tune as he lopes along]

"He must die."

[I am riding my scooter when I read the writing on the back of a truck in front of me. It says "Chikusaku"]

I mutter-chant "Chikusaku Chikusaku Chikusaku Chikusaku [now sing] I CAN'T STOP THIS FEELING Chikusaku DEEP INSIDE OF ME -kasaku Chikusaku GIRL YOU JUST DON'T REALIZE -kasaku WHAT YOU DO -kasaku TO ME" This went on until the chorus, because you can't start that song and not get at least one chorus, right? Come to think of it, this song belongs on the compilation "Songs Saved by Choruses".

I think it would be a valuable thing to hook up a microphone in my scooter helmet and record the audio of each ride I make. I know some of the things that would be audible, and they include practicing of newly heard Japanese expressions, color(-ful, at times, such as "That's right, lady. I was hoping you'd just pull right in front of me so I could be killed by you until I was dead", etc.) commentary on the actions of my fellow human drivers, and exclamations regarding things I have seen. That brings me to one more from today:

[Cat runs pell-mell across a street and into a small Buddhist temple]

"HOLY CRAP that cat is insane. And fast. I'm getting hungry" Then I laughed to myself because I became cognizant that I was muttering to myself, and I determined then to try and recall all such occurrences today, and going forward hopefully.

I and I just get along so well, and we have a lot of similar interests, I guess. Please tell me I'm not the only one that enjoys a pleasant conversation with himself.

this is not soy sauce

2008-11-19T12:39:00.004+09:00

This orange/grape soda is packaged and caramel-colored to appear like soy sauce. The label dispels any misconception, though. I have no idea how this product navigated the ostensibly tight controls and astringent marketing decision-making of a major beverage firm to wind up in this consumer's hand, but I am glad nonetheless. It tastes like watered down, melted orange and grape popsicles.

i'll stick with this job

2008-11-13T14:00:00.002+09:00

Here is the questionnaire given to prospective staff members in the Obama White House. It's pretty amazing in its detail.

happy news

2008-11-13T09:50:00.009+09:00

Delta has officially announced its direct flight between Salt Lake City and Tokyo's Narita Airport. If I had a fatted calf, I'd slay it this very moment.

First off, this makes any stay we make in Salt Lake a day longer, since we've previously had to spend half a day each way changing planes in Los Angeles. The gigantic pain in the butt of walking through and waiting in LAX - which you may know is a filthy, over air-conditioned, perennially under construction, crowded, inconvenient wasteland - will now become avoidable.

I can't stress enough how incredible a change this is psychologically, too. Having the aforementioned LAX experience in my mind makes the trip home seem twice as long. This is because the length of a flight is fairly unimportant to me, as my level of travel fatigue depends on how many times I have to wait for a flight to board, then fly, then land and wait for luggage. Any plane change in LAX also entails the mile walk from the Tom Bradley International Terminal (Bradley may have been a good guy, but I despise him) to the domestic terminal as well as the various accostings and security checkpoint indignities only LA's denizens can provide (except they did let me transport a prodigious amount of Chef Boyardee one time, for which I will be eternally grateful).

Another great thing is that the cost will decrease. I estimate that with per-flight-type fees etc., it will cost about $300 - $400 less to make the trip. The cheap travel agencies we use might also eventually have specials to bring it even lower.

The other thing I can imagine improving a ton is traveling with children. We can now have a "just gotta get through this flight" mentality straight from Narita. I imagine we have a nasty flight experience or two in our future, so this is great.

evening walk

2008-11-08T00:54:00.009+09:00

I worked at one of my clients' offices until pretty late, so I figured I might as well take a walk. Here are some of the lo-fi phone photos.

I like how instead of placing a live guard man, the construction company has placed this electronic signboard guard man, who tirelessly waves a large flag.

I love the Yurakucho area because of all the little shops under the railroad tracks that lead to Tokyo Station.

Though indistinguishable, this is a beer hall called "Danke". I wish Zack had been on the walk, because I would have surely proposed that we start a beer hall putsch. He and I took a European dictators class, you see. Sigh.

This Takao liquor store and its giant Budweiser can bask in the unholy glow of a phalanx of vending machines.

whitesnake/def leppard at budokan

2008-11-04T00:39:00.012+09:00

The Venue

Nippon Budokan is a fascinating venue, because it lies in the traditional precincts of the Emperor’s palace, inside the old castle gates. It is also across the street from the (in-) famous Yasukuni Shrine, the epicenter of Japanese nationalism. It was originally built for the Judo competition in the 1964 Olympics, and its overlords maintain a very traditional atmosphere inside. The giant Japanese flag is a good indicator of politics the folks who are still running it:

It is natural, then, that Budokan should wish to host Whitesnake and Def Leppard, in order to dignify the premises with songs like “Animal”.

Here is a dark photo of the gates that lead into the area where the arena stands:

The incredible thing is the darkness (not The Darkness, though that music was playing beforehand to pump us up). If there hadn't been massive crowds of (largely reformed – see below) butt-rockers, I’d have been nervous I was trespassing. It was raining, but people were lined up to purchase goods, which were not sold inside the venue, but outside in a tent.

Budokan is very tightly designed, and affords no room for extensive concessions. I ended up getting a frank on a stick (5 out of 10) and a couple of Drs. Pepper from the regular old vending machine in the hallway near my portal.

I don’t know anything about acoustics, but if I did, and they had been good, I would have of course raved that “the acoustics in Budokan were phenomenal.” Alas, I don’t know, but they were good enough to hear the music.

The other note about Budokan is that smoking is not allowed inside. The outdoor porches that ring the arena are therefore opened in order to allow the masses their cig break. The fun thing about this is that they are somewhat oriented toward the palace grounds, which means that, without a doubt, HIM the Emperor could have snuck himself a nasty riff or two from a washboard-abbed Phil Collen's guitar.

Whitesnake

Whitesnake came on first. I was in a nervous “by myself at a concert” mode, so I didn’t get too excited at first. The raised fists and singing along of a good chunk of the audience spurred me on though, and I was soon pensively rocking to songs I knew not, or not well.

Behind their setup on the stage was a large electronic screen, which had this graphic on it for one half of their set, and another similarly pixelated one for the rest:

I am confident that the show’s producers did a Google image search for “Whitesnake”, copied the first couple of thumbnails they found without even clicking through to the full-size image, and used them in the show. Either that, or they hired Nintendo to produce the graphic using an 8-bit computer, to give fans an even more nostalgic show. Amazing, and awesome. Anyway, I have to say here I was secretly expecting to come away from the concert a huge Whitesnake fan. I only knew a couple of songs going in, but surely their butt-rock charm and ability to rock hard after all these years would snare me into their eelectric snakey trap (WEEEEEE! WEEEEEEE! WEEEEEEEE!). This was my logic. Quite lamentably, it was not to be.

After the first couple songs, it became apparent that David Coverdale was not working to warm up his meager, almost inaudible voice, but was in fact just trying to maintain it. This led to a lot of choruses where the average Japanese fan was singing louder than him, and his backing vocalists were much, much louder than anything. This was nice in the sense that I was able to hear the high harmonies of “Here I Go Again on My Own”, which are some of my favorites, but overall it provided great disappointment. I’m just glad I wasn’t there just to see Whitesnake, and also that I’m not a huge fan. If I had been, I’d have been terribly let down. It occurred to me during his performance that, without a doubt, there was a karaoke-singing Japanese guy or fifty in the audience who could have sung better, and more like Coverdale himself. I really wish this could have been arranged by some sweepstakes or karaoke showdown. His set ended with the inevitable “Here I Go Again on My Own”, sung for a few bars by the ghost of David Coverdale’s voice, and then almost entirely by the crowd in the “YOU TAKE IT FROM HERE!” hold-the-microphone-to-the-crowd copout, which, sadly, resulted in the best vocal performance of the set.

David Coverdale was not content with disappointing us as a singer, he also took great pains to get fairly drunk and make a long speech acknowledging his 12 year-old son Jasper, who was in attendance. This was an highly effective self-launched salvo against his image as a rock star. It wasn’t that he loves his son (though some fans might assail even that), but because he (a) evidently named his son “Jasper”, (b) prefaced lewd gesticular use of the microphone stand as a prop with the aforementioned tender speech, and (c) his British accent was way too proper to imagine him doing anything at home in the English countryside but nibbling on Cups and Cakes.

One of the good things about Whitesnake was their blond-haired American guitarist, Doug Aldrich. This dude was great, and luckily, Coverdale would let him go solo for extended stretches while he slinked back to the base of the drum kit to throw back another vodka. He was ripped, and had the old “tight button-up shirt unbuttoned with rock-hard tasty abs, glistening in the sun” look, which is just awesome. He looked so much like King Slender with a guitar, I half expected him to grab the slightly overweight Coverdale and bring him over the knee for a rocking back-breaker (though with the Oriental venue, I would have been happy with a Back Brain Kick or Mongolian Chop). My heterosexual attraction to him aside, I was very entertained by his guitar work. He could wield the ax with aplomb, and I dare say he saved the Whitesnake show from total disaster.

A particularly excruciating part of their set was a Coverdale/Aldrich “unplugged” song or two, where Aldrich played the acoustic guitar and Coverdale croaked out some cheesy ballad. It would have been incredibly novel if the concert had been held in 1991 and Coverdale had been able to produce a musical note with his shot vocal cords.

This all makes it sound like I didn’t enjoy seeing Whitesnake. I did, and possibly because it was so bad.

Def Leppard

After the Whitesnake debacle and a 30-or-so minute intermission, Def Leppard came out. The lights went dark, and the familiar drumbeat of “Rocket” slowly faded in. At this moment I got genuinely, non-ironically excited. Everyone else did, too, and it was obvious that the better part of the fans were there to see Def Leppard. The lights burst on, with video of various designs interspersed with rockets and pictures of Def Leppard through the years (cut to Kenny Rogers here if you like) on the screen behind the band, and spotlights on the members of the band, fronted by a slightly fatter, though quite respectable Joe Elliot. The choice of “Rocket” was perfect, because the chorus (“Rocket! Yeah!”) lends itself perfectly to climactic fist-raising and crowd togetherness, which is just what I needed to get into it. I should mention that my seat was in an upper balcony, but almost straight in front of the stage, and on a walkway so no one was right in front of me. Sitting in my seat, which was stripped down to a mere edge of a seat (perfect for a monster truck rally), helped me to realize that the place was built for 1964 Japanese people and their rapidly expanding economy, which had not yet rapidly expanded their butts or heights. Thank heavens I am a small man of modest girth.

The theme for Def Leppard’s tour is “Sparkle Lounge”. I have no idea what this has to do with butt-rock, and I didn’t hear much lounge material, even in their new tracks. Their new tracks, by the way, were as bad as can be expected with aging rockers. The theme gave them an excuse to play all manner of videos to go with their songs on the electronic screen, and on several songs they had an 80s-hot chick strutting around, and also many photos of old Def Leppard. This was fascinating to me, because I usually get the impression that bands want to be seen as relevant in the present. Def Leppard seemed happy to celebrate the old days, and this was refreshing, if a little self-celebratory.

As I mentioned, the lead singer Joe Elliot looks about right for his age, having put on some weight, and lost a little high voice range. He sang very well, though, and made Coverdale look pretty weak. With backing vocals, they were able to pretty much sound like they did on their albums. The band seemed to be a lot more cohesive than Whitesnake, and unchanged from how they used to be. The drummer even still only had one arm. Phil Collen, one of the guitarists, was pretty ripped. He had some semblance of a shirt on at first, and took it off at some point. He was great, and worked up a respectable rock sweat after just the opening number.

One of the biggest disappointments of the night happened during “Armageddon It”. Don’t get me wrong - they did a great job on the song, and Budokan was rocked to its august foundations. Indeed, I was very appointed with the song until it came to that mythical, wonderful part, where Joe Elliot would customarily demand a solo with the immortal words, “C’mon, Steve!” This ejaculation was not to be, however, because Steve Clark is no longer in the band. He went on to his eternally rocking reward in 1991, and I admit I had not known as much. So when the song came to that classic moment, Joe instead implored “C’mon, Vivian!” This was highly unsatisfactory. I think I that if you are going to be the guy that replaces the “Steve” who is the recipient of “C’mon, Steve”, it is most preferable that you should change your name to Steve. If that’s too hard for you, the next best thing is change your name to a man’s name, or at least a name with only one syllable. To his credit, Vivian was pretty good, though the solo he cranked out upon request from Joe was somehow even more lackluster than the one on the original record, which is nothing amazing itself. Also to his credit, he was in both Dio and Whitesnake previously. I’m also pretty sure he didn’t want to besmirch Steve’s memory by showing him up on the solo.

“Pour Some Sugar on Me” was one of the best parts, and I took some video (at risk of being kicked out), which is shown below. Please forgive the part where I had to leave the camera on the floor, and just be happy that I got the sound. During the video, I stuffed one arm in my shirt and prepared to air drum, but I chickened out. Some things you need your insane buddies nearby to pull off.

Fans

The important question of what Japanese Def Leppard fans look like is now solved, though not with any interesting conclusion. A large percentage of the crowd was in suits, and there were also many ladies in office clothing. Yes, Def Leppard fans are safely entrenched and incognito in Japanese society. The guy sitting next to me came in with a fancy-pants leather jacket. He was a successful-looking, strapping man. When “Rocket” got going, though, I could practically see back into his youth of smoking behind the school and rocking out in his ancestral home to cassette tapes. He and I enjoyed a couple of great arm-raising-in-unison, unspoken moments of brotherhood. There were also some very materially devoted fans. To illustrate this, I will give you an example. A few rows back from me and to the right, there was a group of thirtysomethings rocking out to Whitesnake, and all of them had some kind of Whitesnake apparel on. I figured that was the part of the show for which they had come. Later, during Def Leppard, I realized they were all wearing Def Leppard apparel, having changed during the intermission. This astounded me, and I saw a little more clearly how profitable it must be for bands to come here. If a fan is going to spend over $100 on a ticket, he is also probably going to buy a CD and t-shirt or two.

Another well-represented segment of fans was the insane foreigner segment. Among these, Euros were very visible. This picture is me with some giant Russians, who were quite drunk and friendly:

I said cheers to them in Russian (thanks, Scott, it’s the gift that keeps on giving), and they practically bear-hugged me. They had reached this state of bliss by twenty minutes prior to show time, which is when this picture was taken. I also learned the Russian word for “flash” as this shot was taken, when the Russian dude that took it asked me (forgive improper transliteration here) “Spushka? Spushka?”, pointing at my camera. Other great occurrences were when a large herd of Euro men rambled by my seat, and one stopped to shake my hand and move on. I didn’t know why he did this, but I appreciated it.

There were many, many Englishmen as well. The amazing size of some of them reminded me of how small Japanese people are, and they ran about with various rocker wigs and Union Jacks on their persons. I have a feeling they resemble Premier League soccer fans, though I won’t know until I see a large group of those, too.

Miscellaneous

The show opened after several advertisements for the upcoming The Who tour to Japan. Those ads also included a blurb for Extreme’s similar appearance. I would actually like to go see The Who, but if Def Leppard costs $120 or so, I imagine a The Who ticket costs an even prettier penny.

As the show was about to begin, an announcement was made banning all photography and videotaping. This is par for the concert course, I believe, but the Budokan staff were extremely vigilant, too. I came into the venue expecting to be able to photograph a large cross-section of fans for your viewing pleasure, but as I watched one usher shut down another would-be photographer, I realized I must be discreet. I beg your forgiveness if the images I provide are not worth your generous donations. You’ll notice me suddenly whipping the camera away on “Let's Get Rocked” and turning it off. This was when an eagle-eyed usher made me, but stopped to confirm before probably shutting me down and deleting my data. I got my camera out of harm's way before anything like that could happen, though. I felt a little guilty about the whole thing, but I was there for you and because of you, noble donating reader.

All in all, it was a magnificent experience. I am still amazed that I got to see Whitesnake and Def Leppard in Tokyo, just because I snapped a photo of the subway advertisement and put it on my blog. Thanks to you all for helping me attend. I hope to make it up to you when you find your way to Japan sometime.

Random Photo Gallery

Disclaimer: As I mentioned, the photo-taking ban was heavily enforced, so I had to be fast. This led to a pile of poorly focused shots, but since some of them were of possible value, I will include them.

Here, the rockers file home in an orderly fashion. I did not mention any violence or similar occurences at the concert because there were none. At all. Japan's concertgoers are a peaceful folk.

Joe Elliot looking about his age, but not bad.

Here is a scalper in Kudanshita Station. He seemed eager to conceal his identity.

If you look to the bottom of the drum kit, you can see David Coverdale getting a snort of grandpa's cough medicine.

It was raining, and, uh, the entrance to Budokan looks like this.

Here is a Japanese person with a nice Union Jack getup. There were many such getups in the building.

My first butt-rock t-shirt.

Videos

Whitesnake's opening. Includes the classic phrase used to determine if a crowd is has made the preparations necessary to engage in rock and roll fun.

This is my poor recording of "Pour Some Sugar on Me", and a bit of "Rock of Ages". I put it on YouTube because it was a big file, and I don't know if it will survive there long. While filming, I had to put the camera on the floor for extended stretches, but some pretty nice shots of the band and the fans that love them are also included. As is my shoe. Another great part is Joe Elliot's speech, in which he has an overwrought accent for Japanese words. I got this piece of footage because the ushers all left at this point to get ready for everyone to leave.

Warning: This video of the encore, "Let's Get Rocked", ends abruptly before the chorus, making it highly unsatisfying. I had to abandon clip this way because of being found out, as I mentioned. I post it with the hope that it still has some anthropological, if not musical value.

a waiting snack

2008-10-26T19:49:00.003+09:00

Def Leppard and Whitesnake were amazing. Please be patient as I prepare an account worthy of their glory. While you're waiting, why don't you enjoy this mango pie brought to us by a friend who went to Okinawa? The makers of the pie appear to be planning on joining you, so be sure to enjoy the sour smell with your new friends.

white people get ready

2008-10-20T13:47:00.002+09:00

Coming Thursday

a conveniently moveable feast

2008-10-17T17:43:00.007+09:00

Scott blogged about whether to fly or drive cross-country, and cited the availability of unhealthy food from convenience stores as both a pro and a con of driving.

This reminded me of how I wish to expound on one of my favorite Cheeth Theories (Definition: Theories that I create on the fly to make up for my lack of knowledge, which are sometimes insightful and often wrong, though I won't admit it, except in this definition, which is off the record).

Come to think of it, the following is really just something I love, not a Cheeth Theory. It is:

THE CONVENIENCE STORE FEAST

I loooooooooove me a Convenience Store Feast. It's the gourmet banquet of the pauper, and it's available to anyone who has a convenience store nearby, around five bucks, and sufficiently poor eating habits.

Here are the rules for a Convenience Store Feast (hereafter CSF). They are subject to change without notice at anytime, at the sole discretion of me, baby, me:

1. Four (4) or more items must be purchased.

This rule cuts right to the essence of the CSF. Say you sneak off unknown to the missus to a 7-11 at 11:30 p.m. and get a donut, a Slurpee, and a nachos*. This would be more accurately characterized as a Furtive Convenience Store Snack (hereafter FCSS). The essence of a CSF is the delight you will feel in having before your eyes enough (preferably) junk food items to be momentarily confused as to which item with which you should begin, and tempted by all.

It should also provide alternatives to what I like to call "failed items", lest you be left with no suitable victuals to accompany your drink. "Failed items" are ones which prove to be substantially less delicious than you expected them to be at the time of selection. Common culprits in this category are the sundry members of the hot dog family (you only find out they were roasting in the hot dog roasting chamber for eighteen hours after that first bite-and-chew set, and by then, you are usually on the road or sitting upon the small grass area in front of the convenience store, at which time your window to demand recourse has firmly closed), donuts (see hot dog parenthetical aside, replacing "roasting in the hot dog roasting chamber" with "sitting in the donut sitting chamber"), newly developed flavors of potato chips (more common in Japan than the United States), and perhaps the most frequent disappointment, the savory filling-filled, Mexican food-inspired, roasting-next-to-the-hot-dogs-in-the-hot-dog-roasting chamber family of items.

2. One of the items must be a beverage.

No CSF is complete without a delicious beverage to wash down the various items. My advice to anyone who is new to the CSF is to buy a little more beverage than you are used to. This is because your many items are likely to contain a large aggregate amount of salt, and you may not be able to achieve a comfortable amount of liquid with a mere 12 ounce drink. On the other hand, a wise CSFer will also select a bottled beverage if possible**, because he knows that managing all those items as well as a drink that easily spills is a recipe for a stressful CSF. I often fancy a larger-sized PET bottle of Coca-Cola or Sunkist, for example.

3. One of the items must be salty.

I should note without delay that buying at least two salty items is advisable. The above provision of alternatives to failed items are one reason, and another is that a CSF is to be eaten as a meal and so, salty items ought to be given preference over sweet items in my thinking. This is not a requirement, of course. A nice nachos is one of the best and most reliable salty items, but can cause difficulty when eaten in a car***. Another highly reliable item is the frozen burrito/chimichanga. This is because it has been safely refrigerated up to the time of your CSF, and because only persons subject to FDA regulations have handled it prior to your consumption. The best burrito/chimichanga I know of is the Don Miguel brand chimichanga with chicken leg meat. I have only seen it sold at Maverick, which is a shame.

4. One of the items must be sweet.

This is a fairly obvious rule, since a feast of any kind surely includes dessert. After the salty items (should you choose to eat them first; far be it for me to tell you the order in which you should feast), your palate will need a sweet item to finish the splendid experience. Ice cream treats often tempt me here, but I have also come to realize that the time it takes to eat my savory items may be long enough that the ice cream melts. For a CSF, I would say the churro is the optimal sweet item. It's one of the few items that you will rarely be able to purchase outside of the convenience store or other special place such as a county fair or little league snack bar.

5. All of the items must receive at least a cursory nibbling within a reasonable time of the feast****.

As I mentioned, the essence of the CSF is the delight in having many junk food options, and not simply the eating of a large volume. Stay within comfortable limits, but be sure to enjoy all of the variety. In this vein, I also recommend the eating process of taking one bite of one item, then a bite of another item and repeating. This is an especially good way to enjoy my favorite convenience store chips, Munchos, with a nice Don Miguel chimichanga, or mysterious filled roll. Here, the crunch off the oil-soaked chip is interspersed with the soft texture of the tortilla and warm protein taste of the preservative-laden chicken meat and bean derivatives. Don't hesitate to throw away that nasty jalapeno cheese roll that convinced you to buy it for the fifth time, despite prior tristes experiencias, but give it a good, honest bite. Nasty smell in that roll? No worry, there's an empty plastic bag right there next to your foot. It can't hurt you from in there.

6. None of these rules really matters, as long as it's a feast to you.

I hope these rules will help you to enjoy a nice Convenience Store Feast sometime soon. I should add that a Japanese CSF is quite nice, though much different from an American one. The array of rice ball fillings, packaged breads, fried meats, filling-filled Chinese buns, pudding varieties, and new products makes for a great international CSF. I suggest a Calpis Water or Calpis Soda, but CC Lemon does a fine job, too.

*I hereby declare that one tray of nachos may be referred to as "a nachos". After all, simply saying "I ate some nachos" would constitute selling oneself short if one had actually eaten three nachoses.

**All bets are off if Orange Bang is available. I don't care if you have to carry it out in your cupped hands, that's the best drink you're going to find for a CSF, bar none.

***The deliciousness of a nachos is beyond reproach, though. This is due to recent innovations in convenience store nachos technology (hereafter CSNT). The first innovation is the elimination of the self-serve nacho chips bin (hereafter SSNCB). While SSNCB was the prime enabling element in the skilled stacking of massive amounts of chips in one small tray for maximum volume, it was also the source of the dreaded stale, chewy nacho chips. The SSNCB has been replaced by the pre-packaged, pre-portioned cellophane wrapper of chips sitting in the tray next to the cheese dispenser, keeping them nice and crispy. The second innovation is the button-operated cheese dispenser, which keeps the nacho cheese at a consistent temperature, in contrast to the previous vat-with-lid-and-ladle system, which allowed a foul cheese skin to form on the surface of the cheese, which subsequently required vigorous stirring before application to the precious chips.

****Within a reasonable time was defined by me, baby, me in the 2004 case Cheeth vs. the Bag of Munchos Et Al. as within one hour of, or within the duration of the car trip following, whichever is longer, the original convenience store purchase.

numbers

2008-10-08T17:55:00.003+09:00

After about 4 years of translating, I have only in the last few weeks (finally) developed a pretty good way of getting through a large document at maximum time efficiency.

I religiously measure how many words I have translated each half hour (or sometimes 15 minutes), calculate the words per hour I am working at and the estimated time at which I expect to finish, and then try to beat that rate in the next segment. I keep a record of all this in a .txt file, such as this one from my current job. The left column is time of day and the right column is Japanese characters remaining:

1400 8818

1415 8283

1430 8050

1500 7567

1515 7168

1530 6717

1545 6341

1600 5801

1615 5400

1630 4874

1700 4874

1730 4400

1800 4305

Can you find when I had a class and had to involve myself in discussions, etc., thereby losing my steam?

This method only works for things like legal or IT documents where there is not a lot of interpreting or thinking to be done as much as simple plowing through.

Getting into this way of working has been nigh unto revolutionary for me, though. I think it might be because I work toward small time-based goals, and the size of the document becomes less intimidating.

food > election

2008-10-08T13:11:00.005+09:00

Kiyomi and Mimi and I went to Kichijoji on Saturday. There we enjoyed a nice walk, a meal at the legendary Potohar (where the curry is your god) and other delights. The above is a Spanish-ish restaurant located west of the station underneath the Chuo Line tracks. We did not eat there. I'm pretty sure I know what its sign means, but is there any other translation besides the one that would surely draw various protests in my native land?

Remember how I said I would start taking pictures of ramen again? Well, I am a man who fulfills his campaign promises. This is the Ramen Jiro foretold of by the prophet Cheeth, and the effects it had on my gastrointestinal system were not unlike the destruction foretold of by Ezekiel. Mind you, that destruction was due to my own weakness, and certainly not any deficiency of Jiro. Ramen Jiro has many locations in the Tokyo area, though the above was purchased at the original shop, which lies near here in Mita, next to the esteemed Keio University. I would say that Ramen Jiro is the greatest cult ramen shop in existence. It was even featured on NPR (the store I ate at is pictured on the page). It is a hearty, hearty meal, friends and neighbors. As is my custom, I thought I could eat more than my ageing body actually can, I was forced to leave some in the bowl and slink away regretfully. And it gives me no pleasure to admit as much. Next time I will order less noodles and only a single portion of the delectable pork you see here. I will also ask for a bit more garlic.

This post is powered by the above doner kebab, which I dispatched not 30 minutes ago. A mere five minute walk from TUJ toward Shirokanedai gets me to the shop, run by a few kindly young Turkish gentlemen. My favorite part of this kebab is the pickles. They are 500 yen each, but one is all you need. I once tried to eat two, because one only fills me 80% up, but this was a great mistake. One should only eat to 80% or so full anyway, according to JICA documents I recently worked on.

i need to buy a sausage-making machine

2008-10-07T16:13:00.004+09:00

I am going to try and make feijoada today. To find the ingredients, I thought I would search Google to see if by some miracle, Portuguese choriço is sold in Hachioji. So I did this Google search, and realized that if anyone should be selling chorizo in Hachioji, it's me.

UPDATE: What's even greater is that now this very post is included.