Finally, the coin flips
So far, i have heard exactly 4,680,702 stories involving Western men who move to Japan, for a year, and either love it so much that they stay, or get married. These stories are tedious and rather unexciting. Even the first few I heard were too intolerably mushy, yet I was forced to listen to many, and bear witness to several examples of Westerners with Japanese wives.

Today at work, thank god, a guy who has decided to sit next to me temporarily, has the other, more gruesome tabloid side of the expat life at the mercy of Japanese women. His story was a girl he fell in love with, moved in with, wanted to marry, and then she started selling pictures of herself on the 'net. He discovered it, challenged her, she denied it, and they split. He still can't believe that she would do something like that. Shocking, and kinda cool. Shortly afterwards, he met a girl, and went out with her. For the first time he was actually truly physicaly attracted to this chick *(a rareity for men, IMHO). He couldn't see her enough, and eventually he drew a line, and said he have to stop seeing each other if we can't see more of each other. The standoff failed him, and he lost her. Boring.

Then the stories about other people, where it really gets interesting. Many stories involving men who are denied a divorce. One guy separated from his wife, started seeing someone else afterwards. His estranged wife filed papers to sue his girlfriend on the grounds that she broke up the marriage. Another guy got married to a Japanese girl in Oz, they moved to Tokyo, and then later he moved back to Oz, she stayed here, and after a year he decided to file for divorce. She said no, despite the fact that they were both seeing other people. He moved back, did not move in with her, got another girl pregnant, and she still wont grant him the divorce. The girlfriends parents found out that he was married, and now wont let them live together until he gets a divorce. So he rarely gets to see his kid.

I guess this all relates to divorce being messy, and even more messy when it crosses languages and cultures. The moral of the story is not to get married out here - which, quite frankly, was never on my list of stuff to do. Climbing Mount Fuji will be enough of an experience.

I got the impression when I was walking to work today that this is exactly how everything should be. If someone took the time to organise a city, many an example on how to draw up a paradise would exist. Quick examples: crime is nonexistent, the streets are clean, people are courteous, education is of import, and I am taller than most.

A typhoon is coming inland today, and a few people are going home early from work just in case the trains stop running. My ears are hyper sensitive right now, and I can feel the pressure dropping as I sit still in the building. It's the same feeling I get when the lift falls from the 34th floor back down to ground in a few seconds. It will be interesting tonight.

- posted by Daniel @ Thursday, August 25, 2005 0 comments

 
Emergency
By the watercooler, at work, there is a roll of plastic sandwich bags marked 'FOR EMERGENCY ONLY'. I am trying very hard to imagine what sort of emergency would lead to the requirement of small plastic bags. DOM: I am relying on your unique mind for an example. Please comment.

The food menu for Tuesday reads:
(A)Fried Horse Mackerel Japanese Style Sauce￥550 (B)Boiled Pork Japanese Style Yam Sauce￥500

On the subway today I noticed that most Japanese people have black hair. And the tops of their heads are in line with my eyes. I also noticed that most people's eyes are a couple of inches below the top of their heads. Click - it dawned upon me that I am taller than most. A world first. FANTASTIC. Hmm Damo (tall, white hair) will not go un-noticed.

I got a English language magazine on Monday, and I have pretty much decided how I should (read: want to, should laziness not consume me) spend my time here.
1. Learn some basic Japanese. Go to evening classes on Tue & Thu. Status: Pursued Tony for course fees, got an 8 character response which ended with '-off'. Called centre, places still available. Will get Tony to pay for it tomorrow, out of my salary instead.
2. Try and play some squash. I need to find a squash court. Perhaps some running too. Status: Pending shoes. Perhaps I will buy them this weekend.
3. Buy a hardcore SLR digicam and take photos of all the madness here. I met someone over the weekend who had a large Sony camera. She stopped people on the street, and asked to take their photos. They all more than willingly obliged, largely due to the size of her lenses. No euphemism intented. To me it was obvious that she was perving at all the girls in cute Kimono's, a fact she admitted later after 2 glasses of wine, yet there is an aura of professional integriry that surrounds a Gaigin with a large camera. There is, afterall, a chance that this is a Pro. So it was decided to buy a large camera, and then I, too, can get away with anything. I will stall until my birthday. Status: Budget approved on 1st September.
4. Get some fin-pivot action. There is good diving around these parts, so i just have to get schmoozing with a couple of the diving clubs I have seen advertising. Status: will leave this one until I have a bank account & Alien card here. This will make it substantially easier. Should get some kind of medical cover too. Will get this when I have an Alien card.

- posted by Daniel @ Wednesday, August 24, 2005 4 comments

 
Lost
I would like to detract or uprate the previous estimation that Ikebukuro, the 2nd largest trainstation in Tokyo is 'slightly smaller than Belgium'. It is, of course, marginally larger than France. I took a different exit yesterday, and wandered around for at about an hour looking for familiar sights on the surface. Thorougly distraught, hot and bothered, I gave up, re-entered the subway, and followed the signs for JR Line, East Exit. The place looks completely different at night. Also, there are easy landmarks from which you can gauge direction or location. Every towering neon building looks the same. I have no doubt that the same will happen for many weeks to come.

I love bread, and dammit for not being a well consumed item here. It's 200Yen=1sterling for 1/2 a loaf of rubbish bread. Perhaps I will have to find a place that sells yeast.

Dammit, my eye has become irritated once more, and now I have a puffy eyelid once more. Got to be applying hot towels to get it down again.

On the train this morning, I walked up toward the escalators, and did not notice that two orderly queues had formed from around the corner. It meant i had to push my way in. Nobody said anything. They have crowded (ram packed) trains here. If they can't solve the problem, nobody can. The London Underground is forever doomed. The Germans took a different approach. By ensuring that no city developed to supernatural size above another, overcrowding was never an issue. And relatively harmonious employment levels across the nation are a good thing, too.
- posted by Daniel @ Tuesday, August 23, 2005 0 comments

 
Oh God, why am I here?
Tokyo is one hot, sweaty, humid place. Well, i guess i'm the hot and sweaty person, and Tokyo's merely humid right now. I can't wait until next month, when things are a little cooler - the heat is almost unbearable even for me. Met Tony on Friday morning, and spent over an hour navigating Ikebukuro train station, which is nearly the size of Belgium. I had sweated out nearly 16 litres by that time. The trouble is, i wasn't sure what 'anti-perspirant' was in japanese, since i could only find deodorant. And then, a massive hangover kicked in from the extraordinary level of dehydration. Ick.

My apartment has a good view of traintracks and skyscrapers. The first impressions of Japan are:

Incredibly clean. This place has Singapore licked
Nobody speaks English. Hardly any writing is in English (Roman-ji) text. This puts me in trouble
Noisy shopping experiences. Very very loud gaming machines in malls too.
Huge. Unlike London, which, despite it's size, has a clear centre and greener areas following on, with less density as you leave the city, Tokyo is ram packed everywhere.

Feeling ever so slightly homesick. Or rather missing familiarity - food shopping today was hard going, communicating with people is an underestimated task, ordering food from a restaurant is extremely intimidating. To the extent that I actually didn't want to. I can't ask for directions, I can't read roadsigns, I can't read menus. Essentially, I feel as if i have been beamed onto the planet with nothing other than a few thousand Yen. No friends, no means of communication with the people, and I am completely and utterly illiterate. Which makes me realise why I am here - to learn not to be intimidated, and to earn a degree of self assurance. A spine, noless.

- posted by Daniel @ Sunday, August 21, 2005 0 comments

 
Flight #3

The answer, is, of course, endure. We boarded the flight, only to be told there was a fuel leak, and had to deboard, wait 3 hours, and then reboard. Waiting is not something the human temperament ever wanted for. 13 hours stuck on a 747-400, not knowing whether I should be sleeping, reading or watching movies. In the end, I chose none, and am now thoroughly distraught, agitated and smelly. The guy who sat next to me was actually quite interesting. That’s three shots continuously – god, I hate business class. He grew his hair long so he could look like an Indian (feathers, not dots) and drives a cab in Chicago. Converted Buddhist of 20 years, he is enroute to some temple in Tokyo. He tried to enlighten me. I questioned whether the misogynism inherent within Buddhism has a place in modern society, and why American cars were so indisputably dire. A reasonably articulate response surrounding the merits of self progression, something that Christianity (he was a failed Catholic Priest) sees no reason to pursue, and the merits of following a philosophy in lifestyle rather than in passive agreement. Flattery was the method of engagement for conversion. He argued that my spirit and mind, descending from generations of learned Hindus, was at an advanced stage of enlightenment, ready to embrace Buddhism. Sod that.

Just boarded the Express train from Narita to Tokyo, and called Tony from the station. “Welcome to Japan. Go home, get some sleep, and meet me at the train station at 8am tomorrow.” And so it begins.

- posted by Daniel @ Thursday, August 18, 2005 0 comments

 
Flight #2

Chicago. Landed at 1pm, hovered around waiting from Bryn for about 3 hours, as he kept promising to be another 30 minutes, every 30 minutes. Time past quickly, however, as I got to a bar and became thoroughly inebriated with some 21 years + 2 weeks old fellow passenger I met on the plane, dying for their first sip of officially served beverage. Then the man with a giant white Chevy van appears, and we head downtown, and setup residence in the largest 2 bedroom house I have ever seen in my life. I’ve heard stories about Chicago having a large working class - they were not to be seen cavorting in this neighbourhood. Thai food, yap, drink, the ever disastrous game of pool, and then head home, relatively early, as I was devoid of any energy, and saw no reason to push on through the night. I wish I had the time to stay an extra day – without having seen the real downtown and the yachts, there is a feeling of pointlessness I have to my visit here. Right now, I’m waiting in departures for this United Airlines flight to leave O’Hare and rock on to Narita. American security did their usual paranoid meltdown upon seeing my skintone, and sent me through an extra level of security which led me through a metal detector so strong that the rivets in my jeans mustered a beep. Infertility appears thoroughly possible. And now, the 13 hour monster flight begins, with my laptop battery on 3 hours left, and my ipod virtually dead. What will I do?

- posted by Daniel @ Thursday, August 18, 2005 0 comments

 
Toronto

Fantastic day yesterday. I wandered around Toronto, and saw a city without passion. There is nothing exciting, rebellious, avant-garde, arty or even cool about this city. When you walk through Berlin, you can feel the history, you can read the murals. The streets can be wide or narrow, curved or parallel, and all this only means one thing: Character. Loved in person and in place, we need it in the city to feed and nurture our own. None of the renaissance artists could have accomplished in Livingston.

In Europe, we are spoiled. Apart from having the most cutting edge and diverse arts scenes, a cultural history and diversity so extreme, yet spanning such short mileage, we have the highest salaries for anywhere in the world, allowing us to pay for a seven hour flight across the North America and sneer at how bland life can be. I see no reason to move here.

And salad bowl is, indeed an appropriate term to describe the diversity of Canada - Toronto is rumoured to be the world’s most ethnically heterogeneous city. And everywhere you go, you see it. Unlike America, and very much like mainland Europe, mixed race couples or social groups are not commonplace. In fact, the only interesting part of Toronto I saw was Chinatown. Ironic that the Chinese, reputed to have been the first deliverers of the grid road layout would be the only saving grace to a city so crippled in charisma by it.

Despite all, I spent a small fortune on clothing, mainly at that wonderful Swedish store, and headed back to the flat for a kip. Anthea got home, and we headed out for dinner. Steak, but of course. A refreshingly honest and non-judgemental conversation shows how we have grown up so much, yet in a way that we feel we should have done years ago. The truth is, of course, that each person grows in a different way, at a different age, and requires a different stimulus in their life to bring about each change. It will happen, and the least important thing is when.

Right now, I sitting in the departure lounge enroute to Chicago. There is an amazing amount of security at the airport, and I feel quite certain that I would not have been allowed to bring a large meat hook with me onboard the plane this time. The man at American immigration (right here in Toronto) asks me a bunch of questions about who I am going to see, scans my fingers and face. It dawns upon me that he could be American, so I say to him “Are you American?”; “Yes”; “And you have to work here, in Canada?”; “Well, I don’t _have_ to work here”; “ok”. “Here you go, have a good ‘un!”; I reply thanks, and flick the passport, flight pass and immigration leaflet onto the floor, his side of the counter. He then sighs, and begrudgingly hauls his enormous self out of the stool, bends over, collects my paperwork, and tries handing it back one more time. I should write a book on how to irritate customs officials.
- posted by Daniel @ Wednesday, August 17, 2005 0 comments

 
Flight #1
Pearson dropped me at the airport with less than 300 seconds to spare before the checkin desk closed, wooshed up to departures, forgetting to post a giant meat hook back to london, and successfully smuggling it through airport security. unable to spare the time to head back to the post box, i have boarded the plane with it.

At last, I travel economy. Which means the person sitting next to me is no longer A Suit, and thus has a story. His: "I gave up smoking and ever since I have been addicted to Trebor XXX mints. I need 2 packets per day. The consultant says that it is ok, but I have to watch the calories. However, tic-tacs dont do it for me, so I've stuck to these. I gave up smoking 12 years ago."

Landed at Toronto to a big hug. I hadn’t seen Anthea in nearly a year, and she was slowly being convinced that I was never coming out to visit. But here I am, sitting in a fantastic 18th floor luxury modern apartment in downtown Toronto. No wonder she doesn’t want to leave.

Fear now, for I am not certain that Japanese immigration will let me into the country. A standard 90 day visa will not suffice - the outbound flight I have for South Korea is 93 days after landing. And I have no proof on financial stability. Hmm.
- posted by Daniel @ Tuesday, August 16, 2005 1 comments

 
Leaving Night #4, in Edinburgh, and the across The Pond
After a quiet dinner at home with Mum, Dad & Karena, and an emotional goodbye, I flew up to Edinburgh on Saturday afternoon. I'm not the only one about to scoot into a different timezone this weekend, Karena heads out to NZ for at least a year. Today, as I write, somewhere over Greenland enroute to Toronto, London is a lonely town for my parents; for the first time all their kids are away from Europe, long term.

I got back to the flat, unpacked, and rushed over to have a goodbye coffee with Guiliana at Harvey Nicks. Fabulous views of Edinburgh, crap service, and the guy actually charged me full price plus tip for spilling iced mocha all over my jeans and shoes. Ironically, the last time I spoke to Guiliana at length was a year ago, upon return from Asia. And now I leave again. She is finally moving out of her current flat, and hopefully will never have to put up with the randoms scraped from ends of the barrel as flatmates, and live with Paolo & her sister. A huge smile on her face, although I fear that it is more for moving out, than moving in. An hour or so sitting in the biting cold on the balcony was comforted entirely by conversation. It made me reminisce of 2am herbal teas that lasted so long on those sofas – some of my finest memories. She accused me of being British primarily, and questioned what my Asian traits were, and how they differentiated me from the average fish and chip eating islander. Apart from the glaring obvious point (that fish and chips is a fantastic and underrated meal) I was really unable to articulate what made me different. The argument I will use now is that, being Italian, she was brought up with eerily parallel family values, and thus was unable to see what makes me different. I, of course, do not know what makes me different, apart from the perceived (inferiority complexes) and the imposed (London bomber comments, abuse in public environments).

Head back to the flat, stick on my makeup, meet up with Malcolm & Rury and head down to Leith.for the first and last Fringe Show of the month.

2 Leaving nights in london, 1 joint leaving night in edinburgh, and then.... The Rhythmn Inc down by the Shore at the Lighthouse. A trendy bar away from the crowds in Leith. A collage of people, from Rocco & Co to Sky & Co and Rury & Co. The first two social groups effortlessly cross communicated.
The show itself was surprisingly good, and then we headed down to Ocean Terminal for a live Salsa band, in which Jamie expertly humiliated me onstage, by making me dance, on my own, with a spotlight and one hundred onlookers. The favour will be returned. My last meal was a drunken fish supper, Guiliana must feel vindicated.

Next morning, head down to Romina’s flat to pickup my laptop, and say goodbye. Katya cooked Custard to die for {egg yolks, semi-skimmed milk, flour; steam. Lemon rind, chocolate}. I regret not learning Italian in my 9 months in Edinburgh; if I make it to Tokyo, I will endeavour to take more of the culture with me.
Pearson dropped me at the airport with less than 300 seconds to spare before the checkin desk closed, wooshed up to departures, forgetting to post a giant metal meat hook back to london, and successfully smuggling it through airport security. unable to spare the time to head back to the post box, i have boarded the plane with it.

At last, I travel economy. Which means the person sitting next to me is no longer A Suit, and thus has a story. His: "I gave up smoking and ever since I have been addicted to Trebor XXX mints. I need 2 packets per day. The consultant says that it is ok, but I have to watch the calories. However, tic-tacs dont do it for me, so I've stuck to these. I gave up smoking 12 years ago."

Landed at Toronto to a big hug. I hadn’t seen Anthea in nearly a year, and she was slowly being convinced that I was never coming out to visit. But here I am, sitting in a fantastic 18th floor luxury modern apartment in downtown Toronto. No wonder she doesn’t want to leave.

Fear now, for I am not certain that Japanese immigration will let me into the country. A standard 90 day visa will not suffice - the outbound flight I have for South Korea is 93 days after landing. And I have no proof on financial stability. Hmm.

Right, now i'm out to explore the city. Fear not, I have already seen a few Humvees. Photos soon, and maybe some of the city too.

- posted by Daniel @ Monday, August 15, 2005 0 comments

 
Wow
To all the girls....you have my heart felt apologies. The most beautiful thing in my life right now is a Motorola Razr. The days of Flip are b(l)ack.

Last day of work today, and all was good. Sent out a massive handover which contained reams of boring bullets that nobody will read. Kinda sad leaving, because I feel that it could well be my last stint at The Sky.

The rushed schedule begins now. LHR-EDI-YYZ-ORD-NRT. I have already been called a Gaijin. :)

- posted by Daniel @ Saturday, August 13, 2005 1 comments

 
A Tale of 2 Negotiations: (Flat) + (Shame, then Irony)
Flat. I gave Rury until Sunday to decide what to do about the flat. Two offers on the table: take it on your own, or move. He wanted to take it on his own, which suits me, because he has an AAA credit rating, and I get to leave all my stuff in the flat. I originally asked for £400, and then decided shortly afterwards that £450 was closer to the amount that would make me happy. The only way that I could make this work, is to get a fake offer of £450 from someone else, then offer it back to Rury and £430, to convince him that he was practically ripping me off by getting it £20 cheaper. Which was pulled off.

In my mind, the way to negotiate is not just to get the best deal for yourself, but to convince the other party that they are practically stealing from you. It makes them happy.

Shame, then Irony. A contractor I know has been terminated as a result of failed negotiations. He may not be Bismarck, yet he rallied the troops behind him and coerced, rather than convinced, for pure platinum rates from the management at renewal time. The management paid, without disguising the grudge. Thus it was a shame that weeks afterwards, the deal was changed - in many ways - unfairly to himself. But, such is life, and from the other side, if it the deal continued, it would have been unfair to many more people. Management had no choice. The irony occurred when he locked horns with a manager who used a strong arm tactic encouragingly similar to his own, to demand the change. Egos held ground, and his position became unavailable. If the negotiations fail, like a marriage, how can you ever blame one party?


Got my book on Hirigana yesterday, and now I lie in complete bemusement of the 46 BASIC characters that comprise one of the three languages. When you find a task difficult, don't bother trying (people who do this are just displaying a depraved fear of failure). Just give up and take a fleeting interest in the next thing.
- posted by Daniel @ Monday, August 08, 2005 1 comments

 
Executive Cabs
Rock, because of the monologue. It's good having a man on the end of a phone, with a Mercedes, who just seems to appear when you need him, but it gets better when he drowns the journey nothing through a series of tall tales. And you start to believe him, because his personality grows on you. Damn charisma - underated and unpurchasable.

Sadness, because I will be unable to say goodbyes to a short but important list of people.
- posted by Daniel @ Saturday, August 06, 2005 1 comments

 
The Five Day Weekend
Day One: frietag was the Sky Summer Party. the reasons to go to this are to prove that this company is full of more than just IT geeks. impressively enough, it seems that it is full of gypos too. perhaps the IT people are so aware of their immediate social weight-penalty from a stigma characterized by sandals and bad hair, that the pendulum has swung full to correct. didn't drink very much, and hung around long enough to get a dozen embarressing pictures of a team lead geezer, one of which included a compromising position and a man in a kilt. then the last tube home.

Day Two: fly to edinburgh on saturday in time to catch dinner with Rocco. after waiting for what could have been hours for the damned tomatoes to boil, and eating an entire loaf of bread through my impatient wait, wine and pasta were consumed. Then sit back, 11pm, with "Brothers In Arms" kicking at an obscene volume, followed by some Pink Floyd and Jimi Hendrix. The moment felt intensely quiet, peaceful and perfect despite the decibels. Renate and Sylvia called, and Rocco was dragged to Pivo for steins. Luigi 'Verde' appeared, and consumed more than his system could manage. Hence verde. When Pivo ejected us, I wandered back to the Small Flat, and texted Bell. "Awake?" "Awake, and taking delivery of fire water. Allah save us" Allah's timetable looked skittish, so I was sub'd in. At 5am I realised that the only housekeys I had fitted a door 500miles away. Not a great deal of use. Taxi back to Bell's, kip on sofa. I remember a conversation about relationships, and what does not kill you really does make you stronger, sharper and more sure of yourself. Everything is good for you.

Day Three: Wake up to massive dehydration, and my second actual drink related head pain in recent years. A flash of inspiration - I knew where my keys were. Taxi to Rocco's, walk back home. 1pm. pass out, and wake in time for drinks with Maundy and company to celebrate getting older. Dinner at pizza express, drink. I was completely preoccupied all night, a fascination with

Day Four: Rocco and I share a passion for Salsa. We stand equidistant from the post of neutrality. I must never go again.

Day Five: Jools Holland. One of the smelliest arm pit reeking events of modern time. Jools is good fun - i really like his stuff. But it reminded me of a documentary I saw of Japanese club culture, where people stood in line, dance movements in synchronicity, choreographed regimentally. It made me think that a least the Japanese _were_ dancing, when we listened motionless and emotionless. Yesterday I had to dance to the ever despised Salsa, and today I was not given the space to dance to Blues. Once again proving Darwinism, with a display of moronism - our heritage. We had dinner at some mediocre Italian restaurant (I am yet to find a superb Italian, which leaves me wondering why Guiliana doesn't open a restaurant). With the crowd volume diminishing, 5 of use headed out to El Barrio. A bongo / bagpipe band came on, as the German tourists looked on in horror. Chris quite rightly pointed out that we were in a movie called Dusk Till Dawn. And all the vampires were the strange women we were surrounded by.
- posted by Daniel @ Wednesday, August 03, 2005 0 comments