Hanami

Japan and Montreal are different in most ways. I've never understood that old world joie de vivre better than since being removed from it. Montreal is slow, aloof: full of short pauses and cheap thrills. There is a tongue in the cheek of our daily grind which doesn't exist here. Nagoyans don't meander unless they've hit the 5 a 7 a bit too hard, and thrills aren't cheap.

If there's one thing we do share aside from our love of eating, though, is our obsession with the weather. Nagoyans are thrilled to talk about the weather, and many fancy themselves armchair meteorologists, making educated predictions for the next few days or weeks. One of my students was confident that at this time of the year the weather fit a predictable pattern, which he had figured out: three days of bad weather, followed by two days of good weather, repeated until summer arrived, without fail.

The cherry-blossoms, having already come and gone, are really a wonderful example of Nagoya's attention to the minutiae of the changing seasons, and Hanami (the name which loosely ties together all the festivals and private drinking picnics which make up one's personal sakura season), feels like the first time I've seen Japan indulge in a period of familiar joie de vivre, however fleeting. From what I've gathered about Hanami, there is a definite expectation of celebration, public drinking and over-indulgence, but it's appropriate only as long as it's coupled with a poetic appreciation of the Sakura's simple elegance and a quiet contemplation of the transience of seasons, and by extension, youth and life. What this adds up to is massive collections of food tents placed around the most picturesque locations, each selling cheap beer and casting out nets of delicious smells in every direction. Fire-grilled squid, Takoyaki ( battered octopus balls), Yaki niku (grilled misc meats), Yakisoba, Okonomiyaki, fresh crepes, miso katsu, chicken nuggets, corn dogs, fries, freshly deepfried chips, fruit on a stick, chocolate bananas , etc etc etc etc etc.

 Of course, taking pictures is popular and strongly encouraged, as it's an overt display of your appreciation of the beauty before you, but mostly friends and family set up blankets or sit in communal areas and chat over food and drink. The fleeting nature of the blossoms is imparted to the entirety of the festivities, which only last about two weeks, so the event has this liminal quality which makes it really special.  People leave their pretences (and whatever they have to prove during business hours) in the big city. It's a really wonderful sight to be honest, and it's the most naked I've seen the city so far.

Bonus content for today: a short trip through Lucent Tower. Our skyscraping beacon next door, which also connects to the subway. Here's that trip.

Stroll through Lucent Tower

Ambience

Sounds are important to me, and they're so different here. It's a solitary feeling to be bombarded by what is just ambient for everyone else. But it's thrilling to have contrast for the first time ever. Changes in ambient noise, for me crucial markers of space, are suddenly redefined: crossing the street sounds different; so does taking a train; so does home. Montreal's ambience is sparser, slower, I think, and in all ways I speak it's language. But Nagoya's is jarring and pitchy: people (and the robots that replace them) all whistling towards you for the briefest moment of your undivided attention. It's fragile and jengas all too easily into white noise.

So here are some such sounds. I'm collecting them like Pokemon now. They're snippets but should do the trick: I usually just switch on my Voice Memo app when it feels right. This is a backlog of 4 or so, but i'll try to incorporate them more like i did last week with Osu Kannon. They're nothing special, (which I think is precisely the point).


Taking the Airport shuttle at San Fran (02-11)

Walking past a Pachinko parlour at night in a covered market (02-23)

A demontration and a train, taken from my back balcony. Incredibly loud. (02-24)

One stop on the squeaky local train (03-07)

some surprises

It's been a week of surprises. The precious good times of having seen an old friend in a new city sat in contrast this week with some new insight into a life of regularity and responsibility  and the frustrations of delayed satisfaction when money and time are tight.

Visiting Osaka with Vanessa and Jon was a hell of a time. Osaka is an old god that slides at a snail's pace next to Nagoya's new bustle. Things are older, brighter there. The food might be better too but I'm not ready to concede that one just yet.  Vanessa and I found a hostel by the red-light district, about a kilometer away from city centre, in a closed-air market area. We left our bags by the unmade futons and  headed toward Minami, the place to go when you're only in Osaka for a short time. The trip became a casual meeting with the city: A beer in the park where teenage worshipers of American culture smoked cigarettes and ate takoyaki; walks into and out of shopping districts, packed; following our noses for street food and new foods whenever the concentrations of smells became too much to handle. At night we visited the red light district. A small square block of suburban space, with little two floor two-room traditional houses more like storage lockers than anything. The large door making up the front wall of these houses was lifted in every one revealing a sad erotic still-life: a single girl in ill-fitted geisha-wear or some other sillier costume, and an old grandmother, her pimp, calling at shoppers. Some rooms had a pair of businessman's shoes at the front, while the grandmother waited patiently for her girl.

not my photo. but a view of the district by day.

We ended our night walking into a bar big enough for maybe 6 or 7. The closed-air shopping areas are dead by 11 save for the bars, each more or less the same and every one with a cheap karaoke machine which gets passed around the bar. In ours,  there was the owner, the two girls bartending and a businessman who was swaying drunkenly. We were given looks by all as we walked in, but were probably deemed harmless and left to hang out for a few Asahi's.

The next morning we resolved to do something touristy and visited the Osaka Aquarium, which claims to be one of the biggest and houses a Whale Shark and a giant manta, amongst many other things I've never seen unnarrated by David Attenborough. All of it was very cool. The sea turtles particularly impressed Vanessa, while Jon claimed the best thing he saw that day was the little tank of mudpuppies.

***

The rest of the week has been less exciting but still satisfying. Vanessa and I finished out first full week of work and continue to get a sense of our environment, and by extension, a community. We've found a few great bars and restaurants where people are either patient or outwardly kind to us. Last night the cook came to introduce himself to us. His english was fine but he said his Spanish was better as he'd lived throughout South America for year, importing fish and cooking them. He gave me his business card and e-mail address. We ate mackerel sashimi and chicken wings.

Yesterday we visited Osu-Kannon temple. The biggest in the area, I think, and a truly impressive place. The outside was teeming with pedestrians, and the colours of the beautiful day mixed nicely with the reds and blacks of the imposing temple. Inside was the opposite: dark and austere, chants looped on a loudspeaker. People lined up in front of a long rope, which when swung would hit a muted bell on the high ceiling and assure the prayer's successful transmission to wherever. The incense was thick in the air. Vanessa was quite moved.

Give a listen:

As for the grind, money is tight as hell and work is slow. Our first proper paycheque will be in April but many of my classes end up cancelled for lack of students, which affects my wallet at the end of the month. One teacher is leaving in April: he's sure the company will go under a second time and doesn't want to be here when it does.

It's a lesson in frugality and patience: tolerating the bed we've made for ourselves in coming here. No regrets yet.

First day of work & "That's not a bag"

Art in the Lucent Tower

Vanessa and I had our first day of work yesterday. Things went quite well seeing as the company more or less threw us into the wild. I felt the 4-day training wouldn't have been enough but it was. Without observers over your shoulder, lessons feel relaxed and possibly even more productive. Yesterday was a relaxed Saturday, common at our branch near Nagoya station. I worked with a sardonic Australian gentleman who used to own a record store, and had heard of Cheap Thrills back home. So far so good on that front.

I've been getting more comfortable moving around town. Sakae doesn't feel so bewildering once you've got the main streets pinned, and the diagonal sidestreets of Nagoya area, which usually spit me out into the most random places, are making some sense now.

11th Floor at Freebell

Taking the new table for a test drive.
House plants from Daiso.

Last night i went for a quick walk in that area. Saturday night in Nagoya is bubbling with good smells and people racing towards them. Lots of places are open late. Some big, some just small enough for a group of four or five. Most Izakaya have banners covering the window. I assume this is for ambiance's sake once inside, but for passer's-by it makes picking a place to eat or drink a total gamble.

We're settling pretty well so far. I'm hoping work presents an opportunity to meet some people, because Freebell is a seriously quiet place, and I so want to be one of those people chasing down some of that amazing looking food.

My Japanese is terrible, and people don't slow their speech down to accomodate foreigners (or maybe they do...), but I'm trying to pick up a new word or two every day. The trick is to try then fail miserably when talking to people who have to be nice to you (waiters, conbini employees), because they'll often repeat what you've tried to say in the correct way. Last night I took a gamble at the Mini Stop. The cashier was reaching for a bag and I tried out "baggu janai". He got it and I left without a plastic bag like I wanted, but I realized on the way home that I had accidentally said "that's not a bag" instead of "no bag".

Starting to cook at home

It was a bag, though. And I kind of want to go back to make sure he knows that I know.

The Hub. Work Tomorrow.

Training starts tomorrow so yesterday was a dry run for getting to the schools we'll we working at. We attempted to get to one of mine pretty successfully, but the train system is assuredly not as intuitive as the metro is.

That's no moon.

After figuring all that out we decided to dive back into Sakae and look for a British style pub called The Hub that we couldn't find two nights ago. Sunday is apparently a lazy day in this city and with fewer people, more daylight and less distractions, we eventually found The Hub pretty easily. Although before going in, what turned out to be the Nagoya Science Centre instantly drew us away from our mission. It's unmissable even from blocks away and bears an uncanny resemblance to a certain space station.

Once at The Hub we were subject to a strange reversal of things. Apparently the Japanese don't appreciate smoking outside, and relegate those desperate enough to small out of the way areas, but smoking in bars is fair game and even encouraged. This was not something I'd seen or looked back on since the Great Quebec Smoking Ban of 2006, but seeing people take this small pleasure for granted yesterday made me consider again just how naturally these two poisons compliment each other, and the social spaces they exist in.

Tomorrow we start what we came here to do. Nerves are high, but I'm eager for fulfilling work and a regular schedule is not something I've seen for some time.

Sakae and Nagoya Castle

Nagoya Castle.

Big day yesterday. What was supposed to be a trip to the city hall turned into our first time doing a touristy type thing. We managed to figure out the metro system surprisingly easily. It's nicely designed, with two lines running parallel and another which runs in a wide continuous loop, cutting through both lines.  It maximizes space covered and end up a cinch to figure out.

Turtle shell gunpowder case.

Just in front of City Hall, the remains of the massive ancient complex of Nagoya Castle sit, now fully restored and with the old grounds grown over with a few original trees. The castle was build by Oda Nobunaga, first Shogun to centralize Japan in the early 1600's. The complex had mostly survived nearly 400 years when it was firebombed three months before the end of the war, destroying much of it. I was glad to see the exhibitions inside focus the its early-modern history instead of it's recent fate. Old tapestries, katana, emblems, etc were on display. My favorite pieces were a fragment of an incendiary bomb from WWII, a gunpowder case made from a turtle shell, and a collection of beautiful medieval guns, one of them absolutely massive.

Afterward, we headed to Oasis21, a bus terminus in Sakae, aka downtown Nagoya. Bright and bustling, with nerdy pleasures like the NHK/Studio Ghibli shop, Shonen Jump shop and Pokemon Centre, packed with folks of all ages.

Sakae at night.

Sakae itself is a many-levelled neon cluster#$@* of a downtown core. Our destination was Daiso, a massive 100yen-store, whose wares you could furnish your house, and fridge, and yard, with. And while Montreal boasts a massive connected "underground city"(to which I always roll my eyes), Sakae's labarynthian underground is but one level of this multi-tiered shopping hell, that extends into nearly every high-rise in the area. Vanessa and I spent hours meandering the streets, half-looking for the Daiso, half taking it all in. By the afternoon, night was falling and the landscape was changing quickly and dramatically. We upped our determination to find the Daiso but only got more disoriented. Suddenly, a miracle. Mariko, the lady that runs the offices at Freebell - who rescued us not two days earlier when cab drivers refused us service out of the airport - shows up like our own personal Virgil to guide us through this impenetrable mess. "Mm", I hear from beside and below (which she always begins or ends her sentences with, with a nod like she just made up her mind about something)."Excuse me", she says. "Mariko."--

We headed home with our hands full of 100yen stuff. Put it down and left again right away for the restaurant right next door. It was our first time there and the owner was an eager-to-please colourful talkative guy who took our coats, brought us beer and english menus (which had a bikini-clad babe cut from a magazine and a handcut speech-bubble glued to her head saying "welcome to Japan": "It's joke, it's joke, you like?", he asked). He left us alone while we ate to a trip-hop soundtrack but when he saw we were done asked us plenty of questions about Japanese food, and the girls, in Canada (He loves tall blonde girls). He made us promise we would come back and gave us his business card, which says "Thank You" and came with a small bath soap which he promised us would provide a relaxing Japanese-style bath.

Pleasant surprises in a 10-minute radius

Vanessa and I have spent the last two days walking more or less aimlessly. We have a sad map of our surroundings provided by the complex we're living in that doesn't help much, so we pick a general direction - usually some store that we hope sells the basic necessities, which we are still trying to get together - and just wing it. This method has given us a great sense of what's within a 10 minute's walk so far: a bustling few blocks surrounding the main metro/train terminus just south of us, with department stores and big businesses; a quaint suburb to the west very familiar in its averageness and to the east leading back toward the terminus, small streets with tons of streetfront eateries. At lunch time, many of them set up a table stacked with bentos for the salarymen on break.

Today was tons of fun, despite the dreary weather. We headed towards a shop called Kimble Recycle Shop - labeled a second-hand store but which turned out to be more like a clearance/dollar store. The prices were ridiculously reasonable, to the point where we thought we were being scammed or missing something. But some dude near us seemed almost as impressed so we went with it. (Figuring out how to do basic stuff usually involves taking cues from whomever is closest by).

Heading home we passed a ramen shop with colourful banner displaying giant bowls of ramen I would happily live in. Having up until that point eaten only trail mix, tangerines and cup noodle, Vanessa and I took this golden opportunity to change all that. It was a (what I assume to be) typical tiny mom and pop shop with a bar occupied by three or four salary men, and two seats left - perfect. We mulled over our menu and finally I busted out a "kore to kore, kudasai" and felt pretty pleased with myself. I watched some guy drink his broth after so hell yeah I did the same.

We left happy but I apparently wasn't done. This old man owns a counter on my street that people are constantly buying from. From yesterday's look of it he sold only one thing and was constantly making them. Curiosity did a good thing and I approached not sure what to say. I think he told me what it was but I wasn't sure. (People speak faster here than on my tapes.) I gave a number one sign and he said "chotto mate" (one minute) and started a fresh batch. A minute later he handed me a white paper bag and I gave him back 100yen. I took out my phone dictionary and asked "nante iimasuka". I'd never tried that one before. "Okonomiyaki", he answered. Oh dang, I picked an awesome place to live. "Oishii des" I said nodding to make sure he understood, he did, and my enthusiasm made a salaryman laugh out loud.

(the place.)

A few things:
I expected that intuitive dance of staying out of eachother's way in crowded spaces to be an ingrained thing but it's not. I'm frequently awkwardly stepping out of Japanese people's ways.

A lot of this feels familiar. And while navigating stores and speaking to people is challenging, it isn't alienating or frustrating.

I'm tall: