Wednesday, August 14, 2013
Wednesday, August 7, 2013
The Kidz
Here is the only movie I took of Tai-chan's brother and sister. It's odd to think that they are not my kids, yet they are Tai-chan's siblings. I'm wondering what their attitudes towards me are going to be as they grow older, completely fatherless. Or maybe the dude will just show up one day, unannounced.
If I were they and of sufficient age and that happened, I'd probably tell him to go take a hike.
I don't know. Even though they aren't mine, I can't treat them callously in any way, because after all, they didn't choose to have a jerk for a father.
Incidentally, they both have very unorthodox names for Japanese kids -- I must say I've never heard of a single person with their first names. It would be as if in English their names were Xerxix and Kebmek.
Hmm. Those names kind of have ring to them. Maybe I'll name my next set of cats that.
The little girl's name is Kaho and the boy's name is Koh. They are 5 and 7, respectively. They don't speak a word of English.
Oh, and today at 2:28 p.m. exactly 12 years ago, Tai-chan was born at the Jewish General hospital, on the fifth floor. The nurse presiding was a Vietnamese woman named Thanh. I forget the name of the delivery doctor, but I do know our regular obstetrician never showed up.
If I were they and of sufficient age and that happened, I'd probably tell him to go take a hike.
I don't know. Even though they aren't mine, I can't treat them callously in any way, because after all, they didn't choose to have a jerk for a father.
Incidentally, they both have very unorthodox names for Japanese kids -- I must say I've never heard of a single person with their first names. It would be as if in English their names were Xerxix and Kebmek.
Hmm. Those names kind of have ring to them. Maybe I'll name my next set of cats that.
The little girl's name is Kaho and the boy's name is Koh. They are 5 and 7, respectively. They don't speak a word of English.
Oh, and today at 2:28 p.m. exactly 12 years ago, Tai-chan was born at the Jewish General hospital, on the fifth floor. The nurse presiding was a Vietnamese woman named Thanh. I forget the name of the delivery doctor, but I do know our regular obstetrician never showed up.
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
The Last Supper
These pictures were taken at Tai-chan and my favorite Italian place on Thursday, July 29. These are my ex-wife's kids. They're pretty cute. Their father has disappeared, completely abandoning them with no contact whatsoever.
I guess you can't choose your parents.
I guess you can't choose your parents.
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| Kaho-chan, age 6 |
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| Kaho-chan |
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| Kaho-chan |
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| Kō-chan, age 8 |
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| Kō-chan |
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| Tai-chan |
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| Tai-chan. He turns 12 August 7th. |
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| Big brother takes charge |
Sunday, August 4, 2013
A Horrific End to this Journey? Not Quite. Read on . . .
I said the trip back down the mountain was going to be DIFFICULT. I did NOT say it was not going to be INTERESTING.
Even in a remarkably perverse way, when bad things happen, they can still be INTERESTING bad things.
But I like to stack the odds; I like to think that anything that is bad that CAN happen, WILL happen. I find that when I apply this logic to things such as a miserable trip back from Japan, I get a PERVERSE JOY when things that are bad and that I think are going to happen DON'T HAPPEN.
That makes me happy: "Hey I just dodged another bullet!" Or, "I managed to make it across that crevasse pretty well, in retrospect!"
And so it went yesterday.
The parting from my son was indeed a horrific feeling, a very bad event. But the moment it was over and my choices were taken away, I felt relieved. Then all I had to do was proceed to the next hurdle, which was getting to the airport, having a Strong Zero and writing an email to Brigitte explaining how horrible it had been to leave Tai-chan. Then I immediately felt better, again.
At check-in, I brushed off my tie, flashed my winningest smile and went into my "Check-in patter," as I like to call it. This little trick is to immediately try to differentiate myself from all the other passengers this agent has just seen or is going to see by surprising them. Now how many passengers do you think are going to lean over the curve of the agent's computer, pretending to do a spot check of availability, and then say "Any chance of an upgrade this morning?"
When there is no reply, I move in for the kill. "Look at this tie," I say. "Is this not a COOL tie?" She immediately looks at the tie and smiles. I then say, "How do you like my pink jacket? I'm always afraid people are going to think I'm weird for wearing a pink jacket, but usually they seem to like it! I always wear it when I fly because I don't want to look like a slob."
And she comments how it's a great jacket. "Don't I look like a pop star?," I say. "A J-Pop star!" (this is what the Japanese call their pop stars.) This immediately elicits a giggle.
And I am sent on my way to security and the boarding gate.
But, three minutes before boarding, an announcement is made over the PA. Will Mr. Nicholas Robinson please come to the desk? Hmm, I think, yes, Mr. Nicholas Robinson definitely WILL come to the desk.
Out comes a hand with a smile, and there it is: a minty-fresh boarding pass to replace the stinky one I am holding.
"Upgrade!" she smiles.
And so it is!! An upgrade to first class for the desperate 14-hour cattlethon!
Champagne as I sink back into my high-tech chair! Filet mignon with dinner! White wine! Dessert! With real cutlery!
Just because I wore a pink jacket.
Even the horror that was JFK could not undo THAT gift from the gods.
So here I am . . . in my chair, home again. Unfortunately my cheap ball-point black pen leaked into the pocket of my pink jacket, rendering it unwearable.
Fate wasn't going to let me off the hook THAT easy.
Pictures of China Airlines: First Class to follow.
Even in a remarkably perverse way, when bad things happen, they can still be INTERESTING bad things.
But I like to stack the odds; I like to think that anything that is bad that CAN happen, WILL happen. I find that when I apply this logic to things such as a miserable trip back from Japan, I get a PERVERSE JOY when things that are bad and that I think are going to happen DON'T HAPPEN.
That makes me happy: "Hey I just dodged another bullet!" Or, "I managed to make it across that crevasse pretty well, in retrospect!"
And so it went yesterday.
The parting from my son was indeed a horrific feeling, a very bad event. But the moment it was over and my choices were taken away, I felt relieved. Then all I had to do was proceed to the next hurdle, which was getting to the airport, having a Strong Zero and writing an email to Brigitte explaining how horrible it had been to leave Tai-chan. Then I immediately felt better, again.
At check-in, I brushed off my tie, flashed my winningest smile and went into my "Check-in patter," as I like to call it. This little trick is to immediately try to differentiate myself from all the other passengers this agent has just seen or is going to see by surprising them. Now how many passengers do you think are going to lean over the curve of the agent's computer, pretending to do a spot check of availability, and then say "Any chance of an upgrade this morning?"
When there is no reply, I move in for the kill. "Look at this tie," I say. "Is this not a COOL tie?" She immediately looks at the tie and smiles. I then say, "How do you like my pink jacket? I'm always afraid people are going to think I'm weird for wearing a pink jacket, but usually they seem to like it! I always wear it when I fly because I don't want to look like a slob."
And she comments how it's a great jacket. "Don't I look like a pop star?," I say. "A J-Pop star!" (this is what the Japanese call their pop stars.) This immediately elicits a giggle.
And I am sent on my way to security and the boarding gate.
But, three minutes before boarding, an announcement is made over the PA. Will Mr. Nicholas Robinson please come to the desk? Hmm, I think, yes, Mr. Nicholas Robinson definitely WILL come to the desk.
Out comes a hand with a smile, and there it is: a minty-fresh boarding pass to replace the stinky one I am holding.
"Upgrade!" she smiles.
And so it is!! An upgrade to first class for the desperate 14-hour cattlethon!
Champagne as I sink back into my high-tech chair! Filet mignon with dinner! White wine! Dessert! With real cutlery!
Just because I wore a pink jacket.
Even the horror that was JFK could not undo THAT gift from the gods.
So here I am . . . in my chair, home again. Unfortunately my cheap ball-point black pen leaked into the pocket of my pink jacket, rendering it unwearable.
Fate wasn't going to let me off the hook THAT easy.
Pictures of China Airlines: First Class to follow.
Friday, August 2, 2013
. . . and The Grey
Thursday, August 1, 2013
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
Portraits of Tai-chan
Time is running short; only today and tomorrow to spend with my beloved son. Then on that accursed plane taking me away from him. But I'm torn; I also want to go back to Brigitte and home.
I guess you can't always get what you want. But I've had the best of many world, and have spent almost 100% of my time with my dear son.
So here he is, and as I repeatedly say: he is one of the most incredibly handsome little boys I have ever seen, and I have no idea why, because neither I nor his mother possess anything remotely resembling good looks. And if you think he looks good in pictures, just wait till you actually get to meet him. I will do a lengthy video with him before I leave.
He is doing Japanese calligraphy in this series of photos.
I guess you can't always get what you want. But I've had the best of many world, and have spent almost 100% of my time with my dear son.
So here he is, and as I repeatedly say: he is one of the most incredibly handsome little boys I have ever seen, and I have no idea why, because neither I nor his mother possess anything remotely resembling good looks. And if you think he looks good in pictures, just wait till you actually get to meet him. I will do a lengthy video with him before I leave.
He is doing Japanese calligraphy in this series of photos.
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
Ant And The Butterfly
Oh, shut up. Don't lecture ME about lecturing you. Just get used to the fact that you're being lectured to and everything will be fine.
Why. Why. Oh, please, why. Why can I never feel it in my heart to like Japan? To like the Japanese people? To even take them individually and separate them from their having been born Japanese, to forgive them for being Japanese no matter how fervently they try/pretend not to be?
All I can do, dear reader, is THANK GOD I can LOOK upon the Japanese as a non-Japanese and never be fated to BEING Japanese.
Because to me, actually BEING Japanese would be a fate . . . well, I won't go any further than that.
I don't know how they look at us. There are several million of them, so you'd have to ask them all separately. But I think that several million of them would answer that they think we're "fucked up," if that kind of term existed in the average Japanese's vocabulary (it doesn't).
And the reverse? About how WE view THEM? Well, I'll tell you one thing -- probably only one in ten thousand Westerners knows anything at all about the Japanese, warts and all, enough to actually have an opinion of them. In other words, to 99.99% of Western people, the entire Japanese race is a complete and utter enigma, filled mainly with stereotypes. It would be as if you thought all Canadians still trapped beavers and had policemen who rode around on horseback with those stupid red suits and dumb hats, or maybe just sat around dorm rooms wearing fur trapper hats and polishing off cases of 24 Molson Xs.
EXACTLY like that. I'm SO tired about hearing about geishas and rock gardens and temples and zen and utter meaningless crap like that . . .
But I'll tell you one thing that might shock you. After more than half my lifetime invested in dealing with the Japanese in one form or another -- as a husband of one of them, as a father to another -- I can safely say that I STILL don't have a clue of what it is they're about. And the MAIN REASON FOR THAT is that THEY don't have a fucking clue about what they're about -- most of them are as much of a complete mystery to each other as they are to you and me.
Imagine an eternal Russian doll . . . a big doll containing a smaller doll containing a smaller doll etc. etc . except in this case, the dolls just get smaller and smaller and smaller until you have to put them under a scanning-tunnelling electron microscope to see them.
THAT is how you -- and other Japanese -- must look at the Japanese. The old puzzle wrapped in a mystery wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a question wrapped in a curiosity wrapped in a ball of dung.
When I first try teaching my students about Japan, I see all their naive questions morphing around in their brains and I think: don't worry, little student. You can try and try and study and study and become a native speaker of Japanese or a Japanese citizen or somehow arrange a reincarnation as a Japanese, but YOU WILL NEVER BE JAPANESE and you will NEVER UNDERSTAND A SINGLE ONE OF THEM.
I'll just sum this whole diatribe up by telling you that it would actually be better for you to try to understand why an ant or a butterfly do what they do.
Yes, I like that. That is EXACTLY the way to approach understanding a Japanese.
Why. Why. Oh, please, why. Why can I never feel it in my heart to like Japan? To like the Japanese people? To even take them individually and separate them from their having been born Japanese, to forgive them for being Japanese no matter how fervently they try/pretend not to be?
All I can do, dear reader, is THANK GOD I can LOOK upon the Japanese as a non-Japanese and never be fated to BEING Japanese.
Because to me, actually BEING Japanese would be a fate . . . well, I won't go any further than that.
I don't know how they look at us. There are several million of them, so you'd have to ask them all separately. But I think that several million of them would answer that they think we're "fucked up," if that kind of term existed in the average Japanese's vocabulary (it doesn't).
And the reverse? About how WE view THEM? Well, I'll tell you one thing -- probably only one in ten thousand Westerners knows anything at all about the Japanese, warts and all, enough to actually have an opinion of them. In other words, to 99.99% of Western people, the entire Japanese race is a complete and utter enigma, filled mainly with stereotypes. It would be as if you thought all Canadians still trapped beavers and had policemen who rode around on horseback with those stupid red suits and dumb hats, or maybe just sat around dorm rooms wearing fur trapper hats and polishing off cases of 24 Molson Xs.
EXACTLY like that. I'm SO tired about hearing about geishas and rock gardens and temples and zen and utter meaningless crap like that . . .
But I'll tell you one thing that might shock you. After more than half my lifetime invested in dealing with the Japanese in one form or another -- as a husband of one of them, as a father to another -- I can safely say that I STILL don't have a clue of what it is they're about. And the MAIN REASON FOR THAT is that THEY don't have a fucking clue about what they're about -- most of them are as much of a complete mystery to each other as they are to you and me.
Imagine an eternal Russian doll . . . a big doll containing a smaller doll containing a smaller doll etc. etc . except in this case, the dolls just get smaller and smaller and smaller until you have to put them under a scanning-tunnelling electron microscope to see them.
THAT is how you -- and other Japanese -- must look at the Japanese. The old puzzle wrapped in a mystery wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a question wrapped in a curiosity wrapped in a ball of dung.
When I first try teaching my students about Japan, I see all their naive questions morphing around in their brains and I think: don't worry, little student. You can try and try and study and study and become a native speaker of Japanese or a Japanese citizen or somehow arrange a reincarnation as a Japanese, but YOU WILL NEVER BE JAPANESE and you will NEVER UNDERSTAND A SINGLE ONE OF THEM.
I'll just sum this whole diatribe up by telling you that it would actually be better for you to try to understand why an ant or a butterfly do what they do.
Yes, I like that. That is EXACTLY the way to approach understanding a Japanese.
More Time Wasters
Here are a couple more videos. They kind of give you a feel for the strangeness of being in Japan . . . even though everything looks perfectly normal, it is not, because this is Japan.
They were having a sidewalk sale. This is an endearingly Western thing that would have been unheard of when I lived here in the early 90s.
Train passengers here are a bit zombie-like. It's as if we were all in a really big elevator together. They apply elevator behavior to being on trains; the shifty, nervous attempts to try to avoid all eye contact, however inadvertent; an invisible "Don't Even Think Of Touching Me" force field around all of them.
Portrait
For a lack of recent media forays, I give you today a photo taken of us by one of the staff of Mellow Café. Since the original was quite blurred, I leaned on some of the "Artistic" features in Photoshop to give this an otherworldly look.
As usual, open in a new window to appreciate the true file size.
As usual, open in a new window to appreciate the true file size.
For Those Interested in Japanese Kanji (my students!!!!)
. . . . otherwise known as Chinese characters, which were imported by the Japanese a couple of thousands years ago.
Here, I visit the owner of a "printing" shop. He specializes in making "hanko" or "inkan" -- those ubiquitous round or square/rectangular red stamps that you see on Asian (meaning Japanese or Chinese) scrolls, paintings, official documents etc. All citizens of Japan are required to own one and have one on them at all times. Last year I had him make me one, although my name, as written in Japanese: "Ni-ko-ra-su" is an exceedingly difficult one to turn into kanji that are not offensive or have a negative meaning. For example, there are very few "Ra" kanji, and "Su" is used a lot in talking about vinegar or vinegar-related things.
Not exactly "He Who Walks Through Shimmering Star Fields;" more like "Vinegar Official Stone Cow" or something equally as flattering. In this video I discuss my wish to get Tai-chan his own rectangular artist's stamp, which can be made from a very beautiful, curvy ancient Chinese-style initials which can be used as your signature on all your artworks. The one I wanted is a rectangular one called a "rakkan."
He tells me that what I am looking for are meticulously hand carved from soft stone and would take two weeks to process, in addition to being very expensive. So, too late for this visit . . . but I'd sure like one for me, let alone Tai-chan!
Here, I visit the owner of a "printing" shop. He specializes in making "hanko" or "inkan" -- those ubiquitous round or square/rectangular red stamps that you see on Asian (meaning Japanese or Chinese) scrolls, paintings, official documents etc. All citizens of Japan are required to own one and have one on them at all times. Last year I had him make me one, although my name, as written in Japanese: "Ni-ko-ra-su" is an exceedingly difficult one to turn into kanji that are not offensive or have a negative meaning. For example, there are very few "Ra" kanji, and "Su" is used a lot in talking about vinegar or vinegar-related things.
Not exactly "He Who Walks Through Shimmering Star Fields;" more like "Vinegar Official Stone Cow" or something equally as flattering. In this video I discuss my wish to get Tai-chan his own rectangular artist's stamp, which can be made from a very beautiful, curvy ancient Chinese-style initials which can be used as your signature on all your artworks. The one I wanted is a rectangular one called a "rakkan."
He tells me that what I am looking for are meticulously hand carved from soft stone and would take two weeks to process, in addition to being very expensive. So, too late for this visit . . . but I'd sure like one for me, let alone Tai-chan!
Monday, July 29, 2013
"The Restaurant"
On Sunday, after an abortive attempt to get Tai-chan to paint some lovely kanji onto some special boards -- he was not happy with his own work and didn't want to do it any more -- it was decided that we should go out instead and take photos.
So, with both our Canons, we hopped the train and went to near where his grandparents live, and in a green spot took photos of all sorts of stuff.
I had mentioned that I hadn't had any sushi yet, and he told me we could go to the place "Where all the sushi and everything else goes round and round and is super-cheap, Daddy!"
Only problem is, the times he had gone, he had gone in a car. We had to walk.
It was only 20 minutes from the station, but when we arrived at this place -- I'm so sorry but I cannot remotely begin to come up with words to describe it -- it would be like trying to describe what ice cream tastes like to a frog -- it turns out we had a 50-minute wait.
Yes, there it was on a blinking board in front of us, and in case we didn't understand the number "50" some man barked "50! 50 minutes!" This place was so computerized and roboticized that everything took place by pushing buttons. I must say, it made my day. No, strike that -- it made my century.
I'm sorry, perhaps only the movie can remotely explain this place:
So, with both our Canons, we hopped the train and went to near where his grandparents live, and in a green spot took photos of all sorts of stuff.
I had mentioned that I hadn't had any sushi yet, and he told me we could go to the place "Where all the sushi and everything else goes round and round and is super-cheap, Daddy!"
Only problem is, the times he had gone, he had gone in a car. We had to walk.
It was only 20 minutes from the station, but when we arrived at this place -- I'm so sorry but I cannot remotely begin to come up with words to describe it -- it would be like trying to describe what ice cream tastes like to a frog -- it turns out we had a 50-minute wait.
Yes, there it was on a blinking board in front of us, and in case we didn't understand the number "50" some man barked "50! 50 minutes!" This place was so computerized and roboticized that everything took place by pushing buttons. I must say, it made my day. No, strike that -- it made my century.
I'm sorry, perhaps only the movie can remotely explain this place:
Damn Japanese
The goddamn moment my computers "hook into" the Japanese "system," everything become Japanese. My goddamn Google page switches to Google Japan. EVERYTHING -- YouTube, MY web pages, all become Japanese. I have to switch to the Google Chrome browser to get back to English!
So much stuff, so many photos, hours of videos to paste in here . . . I'm sorry, but it's going to have too be random until I can somehow make sense of it all. I WILL post it all, together with what we did, but now the DOING of it takes longer than the time to POST ABOUT THE DOING OF IT, which, as you can appreciate, is annoying to say the least,
Ferchrissakes, let me leave you with this, at least, with NO EXPLANATION
So much stuff, so many photos, hours of videos to paste in here . . . I'm sorry, but it's going to have too be random until I can somehow make sense of it all. I WILL post it all, together with what we did, but now the DOING of it takes longer than the time to POST ABOUT THE DOING OF IT, which, as you can appreciate, is annoying to say the least,
Ferchrissakes, let me leave you with this, at least, with NO EXPLANATION
Friday, July 26, 2013
Tai-chan's Birthday
Well, it's not really until August 7th, but I will be four days gone by then. The idiocy of my not having planned to stay till at least his birthday is far beyond me.
But we had a great time. Everyone was invited -- typically, no one came. They all seem determined to dissociate themselves from Tai-chan and my relationship as much as possible, as if by not paying attention to it, it somehow won't exist. They are mightily misinformed if that is their delusion.
Perhaps now you can get a sense of my extreme anger . . . a deep simmering that never completely goes away and spans my every waking moment, even while I'm in Montreal. The feeling that an injustice is being done -- which is the case -- and continues to be done, causing irrevocable harm to both Tai-chan and me, but even worse harm to the perpetrators, upon whose deathbeds there will be much for them to regret. Too bad any smidgeon of forgiveness won't be forthcoming from anywhere near me -- they will have to go meet their makers totally on their own with no one to follow them, reassuring forgivenesses in hand.
Anyway, we chose to go have an Indian dinner at the Nepalese place next door. Unfortunately, they only take cash, so the ¥4,800 cleaned me out. It's going to have to be credit from here on in.
First, our dinner:
The dinner was great. We were the only customers. I had a fantastic, super-spicy chicken Madras, but alas, we could take nothing home. We had to leave practically half the meal. What a tragedy!
It's really too bad everyone chose to stay away. I guess it's going to be like this for the rest of our lives. So be it!
But we had a great time. Everyone was invited -- typically, no one came. They all seem determined to dissociate themselves from Tai-chan and my relationship as much as possible, as if by not paying attention to it, it somehow won't exist. They are mightily misinformed if that is their delusion.
Perhaps now you can get a sense of my extreme anger . . . a deep simmering that never completely goes away and spans my every waking moment, even while I'm in Montreal. The feeling that an injustice is being done -- which is the case -- and continues to be done, causing irrevocable harm to both Tai-chan and me, but even worse harm to the perpetrators, upon whose deathbeds there will be much for them to regret. Too bad any smidgeon of forgiveness won't be forthcoming from anywhere near me -- they will have to go meet their makers totally on their own with no one to follow them, reassuring forgivenesses in hand.
Anyway, we chose to go have an Indian dinner at the Nepalese place next door. Unfortunately, they only take cash, so the ¥4,800 cleaned me out. It's going to have to be credit from here on in.
First, our dinner:
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| Our naan plate -- with Tai-chan's curry and vegetarian bhaji |
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| Tai-chan is getting great at portraits |
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| He always manages to look like an angel, even in a simple T-shirt |
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| Our tandoori chicken; authentic in every way. Too bad the rice was Japanese. |
But we came home to our Sourire d'Anges cake . . .
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| Now is that a sculpture in cakery, or WHAT? |
Thursday, July 25, 2013
Friday July 26
2:30 p.m., Mellow Café
I actually was planning on going nowhere today. Last night something a bit frightening happened -- I was awoken at 2 or so with a terrific pain right beneath my breastbone -- like a bluntishly pointed object was pressing against it from within . . . and no matter which way I tried to turn, the pain remained or got worse. It was the kind of pain you can't just ignore and turn over and try to get back to sleep . . . very disturbing.
It had only happened a couple of times before and what I remember from those times was that I had been drinking Kahlua in somewhat large quantities on those evenings. Well, last night there was no Kahlua, but I did eat two insanely chocolatey cakes from that cake place we go to, Sourire d'Anges. Together they must have amounted to about 100 grams of fat or more, so I'm wondering if my pancreas just went into horror mode. That's all I can think of.
For some reason I've been eating far more since I've been here than ever in Montreal. In Montreal, I will go whole days in which I have no appetite at all; indeed, while Brigitte was gone, on at least two occasions I was so un-hungry that I resorted to drinking those meal-replacement things they give to people who either can't eat solid food or have no appetite.
I'm still feeling a bit weird, but I will definitely be going easy on the incredible cake I'll be picking up for Tai-chan's little birthday party this evening. If he shows up, that is. His mother's kid is out of the hospital so she's out too, and who knows, she might just arbitrarily decided that he not come over today. I never know with her.
One week from today it will be my last afternoon in Japan. A week from tomorrow I will be on an early-morning bus to Kansai airport, where I will be checking in for my China Airlines 1 p.m. flight to JFK. This time the flight ail *only* be 12 or 13 hours. Wowee.
I'll have about 6 hours to kill in JFK. I'm hoping I can scope out what it would be like to get Tai-chan to take the flight by himself next summer -- it would be the first time he's flown alone, although it's so pathetically easy he should have no troubles at all. I just have to meet him at his gate in New York and then take him to Montreal. What could be easier?
Well, it all depends on his singularly uncooperative mother, who is famous for reversing herself for little more than a whim, heedless of whether thousands of dollars are at stake or not.
We shall see!
Since Tai-chan took to my iPad Mini like a fish to a bicycle, I have taken the liberty of ordering one from the Japanese Apple Store. It will blow his mind.
Today is easily the hottest day of the trip so far -- it's like standing in front of a blast furnace on the sidewalk, which itself radiates the heat back up in spades. So, we're looking at 35° (95F) just in air temp but actually more like 40°C (104F) with the radiated heat from the ground.
Now it's off to the cake shop to see if they've received my masterpiece of a cake . . . it's a sculpture fit for the gods.
I actually was planning on going nowhere today. Last night something a bit frightening happened -- I was awoken at 2 or so with a terrific pain right beneath my breastbone -- like a bluntishly pointed object was pressing against it from within . . . and no matter which way I tried to turn, the pain remained or got worse. It was the kind of pain you can't just ignore and turn over and try to get back to sleep . . . very disturbing.
It had only happened a couple of times before and what I remember from those times was that I had been drinking Kahlua in somewhat large quantities on those evenings. Well, last night there was no Kahlua, but I did eat two insanely chocolatey cakes from that cake place we go to, Sourire d'Anges. Together they must have amounted to about 100 grams of fat or more, so I'm wondering if my pancreas just went into horror mode. That's all I can think of.
For some reason I've been eating far more since I've been here than ever in Montreal. In Montreal, I will go whole days in which I have no appetite at all; indeed, while Brigitte was gone, on at least two occasions I was so un-hungry that I resorted to drinking those meal-replacement things they give to people who either can't eat solid food or have no appetite.
I'm still feeling a bit weird, but I will definitely be going easy on the incredible cake I'll be picking up for Tai-chan's little birthday party this evening. If he shows up, that is. His mother's kid is out of the hospital so she's out too, and who knows, she might just arbitrarily decided that he not come over today. I never know with her.
One week from today it will be my last afternoon in Japan. A week from tomorrow I will be on an early-morning bus to Kansai airport, where I will be checking in for my China Airlines 1 p.m. flight to JFK. This time the flight ail *only* be 12 or 13 hours. Wowee.
I'll have about 6 hours to kill in JFK. I'm hoping I can scope out what it would be like to get Tai-chan to take the flight by himself next summer -- it would be the first time he's flown alone, although it's so pathetically easy he should have no troubles at all. I just have to meet him at his gate in New York and then take him to Montreal. What could be easier?
Well, it all depends on his singularly uncooperative mother, who is famous for reversing herself for little more than a whim, heedless of whether thousands of dollars are at stake or not.
We shall see!
Since Tai-chan took to my iPad Mini like a fish to a bicycle, I have taken the liberty of ordering one from the Japanese Apple Store. It will blow his mind.
Today is easily the hottest day of the trip so far -- it's like standing in front of a blast furnace on the sidewalk, which itself radiates the heat back up in spades. So, we're looking at 35° (95F) just in air temp but actually more like 40°C (104F) with the radiated heat from the ground.
Now it's off to the cake shop to see if they've received my masterpiece of a cake . . . it's a sculpture fit for the gods.
Bye Bye Tai-chan
He hopped a train back to his grandparents' house today at 6 p.m. Apparently he has some kind of a movie date with some friend tomorrow (Friday).
Today I reserved a fantastically beautiful cake at our favorite cake shop near Mellow Café (they actually supply Mellow Café) and I will use its exquisiteness to celebrate Tai-chan's 12th birthday when he returns tomorrow, even though his real birthday is not until August 7.
It will be a lonely night here without him . . . it already is. I will go eat at the fast-foodish place downstairs for dinner -- he disdains it but I kind of like their meat-sauce spaghetti.
Meanwhile I will catch up on my reading, as he has finally surrendered my iPad Mini.
Wish me a happy lonely night . . .
Today I reserved a fantastically beautiful cake at our favorite cake shop near Mellow Café (they actually supply Mellow Café) and I will use its exquisiteness to celebrate Tai-chan's 12th birthday when he returns tomorrow, even though his real birthday is not until August 7.
It will be a lonely night here without him . . . it already is. I will go eat at the fast-foodish place downstairs for dinner -- he disdains it but I kind of like their meat-sauce spaghetti.
Meanwhile I will catch up on my reading, as he has finally surrendered my iPad Mini.
Wish me a happy lonely night . . .
Tai-chan Spins
I thought you might like to download this animated gif of Tai-chan spinning on a stool at the photo place.
Just right click to download. Drag it to any browser to see Tai-chan spin!
Just right click to download. Drag it to any browser to see Tai-chan spin!
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
I Lose
Today is "take it easy" day. It started that way because we went to bed fairly late and consequently Tai-chan was not up and at 'em at the usual hour of 6:30 a.m. Indeed, I too was late awakening, at 8:30 a.m.
Besides, it was showing grey outside and upon drawing the blinds, I saw rain. A quick check and the forecast for the next five days includes most with thundershowers . . .
When we finally did get out of the room it wasn't raining but the Humidex was unhappifying. Got Tai-chan his new "normal" breakfast: a Doutor "German" hot dog. I found out that the coffee place just a couple of doors down offers a breakfast with a fried egg on toast (the thick-sliced bread that serves as white bread here) with a small side salad for a mere ¥150 -- about $1.50. Who said Japan was insanely expensive?
The coffee is, admittedly, sickeningly expensive -- anything over $3 for ANY kind of coffee, be it café-au-lait, cappuccino or plain ol' espresso is highway robbery to me -- but here it's mostly $4 and up. Mellow Café's café-au-lait has to take the prize for a pathetic serving of probably ¾ of a cup of café latte for about $5.50 (and ANY juice for around $5.50) but you just have to swallow it. If I knew what I know now I would have brought along my Aeropress, a bag of fine-grind coffee and just bought some milk and sugar at the grocery store. That alone would have saved what is going to end up being around $120 worth of coffee by the end of this trip.
Oh well, you live and regret.
So after that we went to the ¥100 shop and bought two umbrellas for ¥100 each -- that's $1 an umbrella, folks -- and came back here to camp out and take it easy. Tomorrow is our big trip to the Osaka aquarium -- the biggest in the world. That's where we will flex our considerable combined camera muscles. We will have a LOT of material to post tomorrow evening.
Meanwhile, Tai-chan beats me at Reversi, that black and white checker-type game . . .
Besides, it was showing grey outside and upon drawing the blinds, I saw rain. A quick check and the forecast for the next five days includes most with thundershowers . . .
When we finally did get out of the room it wasn't raining but the Humidex was unhappifying. Got Tai-chan his new "normal" breakfast: a Doutor "German" hot dog. I found out that the coffee place just a couple of doors down offers a breakfast with a fried egg on toast (the thick-sliced bread that serves as white bread here) with a small side salad for a mere ¥150 -- about $1.50. Who said Japan was insanely expensive?
The coffee is, admittedly, sickeningly expensive -- anything over $3 for ANY kind of coffee, be it café-au-lait, cappuccino or plain ol' espresso is highway robbery to me -- but here it's mostly $4 and up. Mellow Café's café-au-lait has to take the prize for a pathetic serving of probably ¾ of a cup of café latte for about $5.50 (and ANY juice for around $5.50) but you just have to swallow it. If I knew what I know now I would have brought along my Aeropress, a bag of fine-grind coffee and just bought some milk and sugar at the grocery store. That alone would have saved what is going to end up being around $120 worth of coffee by the end of this trip.
Oh well, you live and regret.
So after that we went to the ¥100 shop and bought two umbrellas for ¥100 each -- that's $1 an umbrella, folks -- and came back here to camp out and take it easy. Tomorrow is our big trip to the Osaka aquarium -- the biggest in the world. That's where we will flex our considerable combined camera muscles. We will have a LOT of material to post tomorrow evening.
Meanwhile, Tai-chan beats me at Reversi, that black and white checker-type game . . .
From Your Friendly Finepix
We currently have six different cameras going. Out two single-lens reflexes, which we rarely pull out, my soon-to-be- Tai-chan's Sony video marvel, my Finepix snapper (the progenitor of the two photos here) and both my iPad Mini and jeez, I've run out of memory. Gotta buy a flash SD card for my brain.
Don't worry, I will upgrade soon.
We had the bizarre experience of going to dinner at an Indian place not two doors down, run by two Nepalese whose Japanese is better than their English.
More on that later. Meanwhile, we went to Mellow Café for after-dinner coffee and sweets.
Don't worry, I will upgrade soon.
We had the bizarre experience of going to dinner at an Indian place not two doors down, run by two Nepalese whose Japanese is better than their English.
More on that later. Meanwhile, we went to Mellow Café for after-dinner coffee and sweets.
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| I guess I lied. This must have been taken this morning. |
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| Tai-chan playing with what he knew I would give him the moment he got his grubby paws on it -- my iPad Mini. Bye bye, iPad Mini. |
Monday, July 22, 2013
Little Portraits
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| Portait of the Artist as an Old Samurai |
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| In the land of robots, ninja assassins and small dogs |
Sunday, July 21, 2013
Quadcopter adventures!
I bought Tai-chan something called a Quadrotor -- basically, a helicopter with four propellers. Here he is learning to fly it.
Monday, July 22
Again it's 6:30 a.m. I don't remember what time we went to sleep last night but it must have been 11 or so -- always early because we get up so early. This time, though, Tai-chan is sleeping a bit longer.
Yesterday we didn't do too much -- Mellow Café seemed to be closed in the morning so we went somewhere else.
I'm becoming massively irritated (as usual) by the Japanese attitude -- their "squirreliness," for lack of a better word.
Even though perfect Japanese comes out of my mouth (Tai-chan confirms this) they pretend not to understand what I'm saying and stare at me like frozen sheep. For example, in the other coffee shop, first I asked if they had wireless Internet. They could have said "No, we don't -- sorry," but instead I get this hand-wringing explanation, only half of which I understand, and then they call over the manager. who has even less idea of what to do than they do, and then it is established that there is an Internet business JUST ACROSS THE STREET from them, as if that can possibly help me, and I show them my laptop and they hem and haw and point and jabber, and in the end, of course, I just tell them "Forget it!" and they wander back to their duties.
Then, I make the mistake of asking for a café-au-lait and they say they don't have those. They don't have cappuccinos either, although their very name is "Tanaka Specialty Coffees" or something like that.
Finally, they suggest a coffee "with a lot of milk in it," and I accept, fed up to the teeth.
And it's a good coffee, except it's served in a bowl. Yes, a bowl with no handle.
And on my way out, I ask the cashier "Uh, just for future reference, what do you call that?" pointing to the coffee I just finished. After a blank stare for a moment, she says "Oh, that's a café-au-lait."
Now can you understand why I secretly despise the Japanese? They're a nation of squashed-down sheep, each person only one part of a grand tribe -- individually they can't function -- they need the rest of the tribe to be able to exist. Like ants.
I will NOT get into what happened when I went across the street to Softbank, the Internet service provider. Just suffice it to say that it took one hour, a phone call to someone who spoke English (I didn't need him -- he said exactly the same things as they did, except in English) and many, many questions such as "Okay, so HOW MUCH DO I PAY ALTOGETHER FOR INTERNET SERVICE FOR TWO YEARS?" (I'm trying to get Internet for my ex-wife and it has to be as painless as possible for her or she won't do it) and I finally get the answer that they could have given me in the first five minutes, only they're so sheeplike and pretend to misunderstand me constantly (again, I checked with Tai-chan -- I was speaking perfectly good Japanese) and I just ended up completely frustrated and wanting to smash the guy sitting across from me in the face.
Anyway -- today is Monday. Dunno what we'll do . . . I bought a cool helicopter (a quad rotor, as a matter of interest) and he's been trying it out. We went to Nara park yesterday to try it outside but its battery died after half a minute so we gave up. But I can't wait for Tai-chan to wake up!
No doubt we're going to have a blast again today -- it's so much fun being with him. We joke around and have so many laughs it's incredible. I just get the feeling no one here ever pays much attention to him or realizes what a huge sense of humor he has and what a joy he is to be around.
Oh well.
Updates and more videos soon!
Yesterday we didn't do too much -- Mellow Café seemed to be closed in the morning so we went somewhere else.
I'm becoming massively irritated (as usual) by the Japanese attitude -- their "squirreliness," for lack of a better word.
Even though perfect Japanese comes out of my mouth (Tai-chan confirms this) they pretend not to understand what I'm saying and stare at me like frozen sheep. For example, in the other coffee shop, first I asked if they had wireless Internet. They could have said "No, we don't -- sorry," but instead I get this hand-wringing explanation, only half of which I understand, and then they call over the manager. who has even less idea of what to do than they do, and then it is established that there is an Internet business JUST ACROSS THE STREET from them, as if that can possibly help me, and I show them my laptop and they hem and haw and point and jabber, and in the end, of course, I just tell them "Forget it!" and they wander back to their duties.
Then, I make the mistake of asking for a café-au-lait and they say they don't have those. They don't have cappuccinos either, although their very name is "Tanaka Specialty Coffees" or something like that.
Finally, they suggest a coffee "with a lot of milk in it," and I accept, fed up to the teeth.
And it's a good coffee, except it's served in a bowl. Yes, a bowl with no handle.
And on my way out, I ask the cashier "Uh, just for future reference, what do you call that?" pointing to the coffee I just finished. After a blank stare for a moment, she says "Oh, that's a café-au-lait."
Now can you understand why I secretly despise the Japanese? They're a nation of squashed-down sheep, each person only one part of a grand tribe -- individually they can't function -- they need the rest of the tribe to be able to exist. Like ants.
I will NOT get into what happened when I went across the street to Softbank, the Internet service provider. Just suffice it to say that it took one hour, a phone call to someone who spoke English (I didn't need him -- he said exactly the same things as they did, except in English) and many, many questions such as "Okay, so HOW MUCH DO I PAY ALTOGETHER FOR INTERNET SERVICE FOR TWO YEARS?" (I'm trying to get Internet for my ex-wife and it has to be as painless as possible for her or she won't do it) and I finally get the answer that they could have given me in the first five minutes, only they're so sheeplike and pretend to misunderstand me constantly (again, I checked with Tai-chan -- I was speaking perfectly good Japanese) and I just ended up completely frustrated and wanting to smash the guy sitting across from me in the face.
Anyway -- today is Monday. Dunno what we'll do . . . I bought a cool helicopter (a quad rotor, as a matter of interest) and he's been trying it out. We went to Nara park yesterday to try it outside but its battery died after half a minute so we gave up. But I can't wait for Tai-chan to wake up!
No doubt we're going to have a blast again today -- it's so much fun being with him. We joke around and have so many laughs it's incredible. I just get the feeling no one here ever pays much attention to him or realizes what a huge sense of humor he has and what a joy he is to be around.
Oh well.
Updates and more videos soon!
Saturday, July 20, 2013
Japan: The Portraits
Out came my camera and I gave it to Tai-chan to take a portrait of me, and then I took one of him. I think they're pretty good. What do you think? (As usual, right-click to open in a new window for the full resolutions)
Sunday Video Fest
Sunday, July 21
Then I hopped the bus for Nara. It was a fantastic day, not the 33-degree horror I was expecting.
On The Way To Nara
As soon as I was back in Japan, all my nerves melted away instantly and it was like coming home after being away a bit too long. Which it is. Everything is so . . . NORMAL here for me now . . . since the language is no barrier whatsoever -- I'm now practically a native speaker now -- there is nothing to worry about. So I interact with the people with the greatest of ease, having conversations, making jokes . . . just imagine how different the whole experience would be if just trying to ask a simple question was almost impossible.
I got to the hotel at noon and guess who was waiting there for me . . . he had gotten the answering machine message from the night before. He had come with his little rolly bag ready to stay with me for three days and needless to say, it was good to see him.
We left our luggage there because it wasn't check-in time, and went to our old haunt, Mellow Café, me for a coffee and he for an orange juice. They were freaked out to see us -- they hadn't forgotten us from last year.
We Chill at Mellow Café; Déja Vu All Over Again
Well, we're kind of difficult to forget, I must admit.
Then we went next door and had a hot dog -- Tai-chan's first since last year. He's such a mellow little boy, so kind and lovable. He grabbed my hand as we walked everywhere and occasionally said "I love you, Daddy." He must be so relieved to get away from his all-encompassing reality of family and small children.
He of course latched onto my iPad Mini and started downloading apps immediately.
We came back to the hotel to check in and cool down -- it's really a large room and the only thing wrong with it is that its wireless Internet is so slow. At the moment I'm trying to upload some movies to YouTube and it's taking forever.
Then we went out again and did the grocery shopping in a large grocery store near the station and came home yet again. At 6 or so we headed out to our favorite Italian place, Ponte Rosso, where of course they also remembered us -- even what we liked to eat. Then after stopping by the cake shop for take-home desserts which ended up having no utensils with which to eat them, we went home and ate them up. Then I fell asleep while Tai-chan played on the iPad.
Not sure what's on the agenda today but the sun is blasting and it looks like a hot one. There's a mini quad rotor helicopter that I bought Tai-chan but it's too insane to play with in this room so we have to go find a park somewhere.
Damn, I wish they had room service . . . we have to go out for coffee. No way to make it in this room.
Movies on the way as soon as they get on YouTube . . .
Friday, July 19, 2013
Thursday, July 18, 2013
Boarding Gate Nailed!
The helpful server here at the Blue Smoke (on The Road) café pointed me to B31 for China Airlines -- even though it's not listed on the monitors, that's definitely where it is. A hoop skip and a jump from here.
They don't have desserts here, so I opted to get a chocolate "thing" at a place called the Cake Tin and they said i could eat it here if I had a cup of coffee. Lucky me!
So . . . only three-odd hours to go.
I will use the time to check my YouTube postings. Mustn't leave you hanging!
They don't have desserts here, so I opted to get a chocolate "thing" at a place called the Cake Tin and they said i could eat it here if I had a cup of coffee. Lucky me!
So . . . only three-odd hours to go.
I will use the time to check my YouTube postings. Mustn't leave you hanging!
The Madness is Over
The initial chaos of having no idea where to go -- just an offramp with signs pointing to "baggage claim" -- indicated just how badly disorganized this airport system is. The signage, as usual is at fault. You can go for half a mile and not see a reminding sign that you are indeed on your way to "all terminals" -- all the other signs just point to "Baggage Claim" and "Departures" but none mentions anything about terminals, "Sky Trains" or anything else. You just have to keep asking everyone -- the true sign of a signage campaign that doesn't exist.
Plus, there is no concept (as usual) of being "in transit." I already immigrated to the US and went through security in Montreal. Now I have to leave security and re-immigrate to New York and go through security again, this time accompanied by 1,000 other passengers of all ethnicities (an entire El Al flight full of Orthodox Jews) plus show my passport blah blah blah and I'm NOT EVEN FUCKING ENTERING THE US.
These people are extremely retarded, at all levels. Their micro-brains are evident everywhere.
THE US IS IS A DESTINATION TO BE AVOIDED AT ALL COSTS.
If I could somehow travel through Vancouver without having to go through Tokyo . . . but the Canadians and the Japanese are also as DUMB AS SEVERAL BURLAP SACKS FULL OF ½ PENNY NAILS so there really is no recourse but to pick the worst of ten worst choices. There ARE no good choices any more -- unless you are hysterically rich.
I now am craving a sweet of some sort . . . a cake would be ideal.
Goodbye, Montreal
4 a.m. precisely and I plan to be in that taxi by 4:45. Went to sleep at 8:30 or so and slept like a baby, thanks to Brigitte fending off the furry hordes . . . woke up at 2:30 wanting to sleep more, but Brigitte was up and about, getting ready to wake me up at 3:30 . . . poor her.
She wanted me to move all my stuff from my medium roller bag to the behemoth one, in order to accommodate all the clothes my mother and Kay bought Tai-chan a couple of years back -- but that bag is so big you could drive a truck through it and I refuse to be rolling that all over the Earth, clothes or no clothes. As it is, you'd have to clear a path between the atoms at the top of the medium-size roller bag in order to fit anything that wasn't visible only to a scanning-tunnelling microscope.
So, here goes my umpteenth trip to Japan. One day I will sit down and try to count how many times since November, 1988 I have flown back and forth to that accursed realm. Who knew, in little old 1986, that for the rest of my life I would be linked irrevocably to a California-sized Asian country on the other side of the world?
Frankly, as a life option, I do not recommend it to anyone.
She wanted me to move all my stuff from my medium roller bag to the behemoth one, in order to accommodate all the clothes my mother and Kay bought Tai-chan a couple of years back -- but that bag is so big you could drive a truck through it and I refuse to be rolling that all over the Earth, clothes or no clothes. As it is, you'd have to clear a path between the atoms at the top of the medium-size roller bag in order to fit anything that wasn't visible only to a scanning-tunnelling microscope.
So, here goes my umpteenth trip to Japan. One day I will sit down and try to count how many times since November, 1988 I have flown back and forth to that accursed realm. Who knew, in little old 1986, that for the rest of my life I would be linked irrevocably to a California-sized Asian country on the other side of the world?
Frankly, as a life option, I do not recommend it to anyone.
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
Ready to Rock
Wednesday afternoon, and if I ain't ready to get on that plane now, I never will be.
Think about this: it took Magellan two years just to GET to Japan and I'm about to do it in about two days. And he started off with something like 300 crewmen and returned with about 20, not including himself, whom he managed to kill in a "suicide by native" incident in the Philippines. What a dick.
But I do think about it as I fly, mid-Pacfic, knowing that there is nothing down there but water for multiple thousands of miles.
See you in the morning at JFK.
Think about this: it took Magellan two years just to GET to Japan and I'm about to do it in about two days. And he started off with something like 300 crewmen and returned with about 20, not including himself, whom he managed to kill in a "suicide by native" incident in the Philippines. What a dick.
But I do think about it as I fly, mid-Pacfic, knowing that there is nothing down there but water for multiple thousands of miles.
See you in the morning at JFK.
Thursday, July 11, 2013
Getting Started Early
I'm actually quite pleased that this amazingly rare aircraft mishap occurred at a major US airport when it did -- people are going to be paying MUCHO attention when I board my flight, from the dude who cleans the bathroom at the airport to the dude who sits up front and says "My Airplane."
It quite frankly could not have come at a better time. It takes the onus off worrying about terrorism and more on "Who the fuck is flying this plane?"
This is all A1 GOOD for me, not, mind you, that I was EVER at any point nor have EVER been, worried about my personal safety in a commercial aircraft. My sister has some more harrowing tales to tell about her iffy journeys in über and sub-Saharan Africa with various cowboy outfits, but I must remind you that she got hazard pay on top of her usual Homeland Security happycheck so it was more a moot point of "Do I arrive alive?" because the answer to that always was "Well, I'll celebrate by spending $XXX at the nearest boutique."
This is not the way I travel, unfortunately. Gone are the good old days of multiple thousand-accrued miles, where I could pretty much sweet talk a ticket agent into a first class seat just by wearing my outrageous peach linen jacket, black shirt and day-glo orange tie, along with the most agent-friendly attitude you ever done saw.
Nope, I have to slum it like the rest of them these days. Nooooo problem! I have ways to umm . . ."pillow" my hard landing in seat 42A.
Besides, and this is what most folk forget, I actually LOVE being in an airplane. Sitting down in that newly-vaccuumed seat and buckling that belt while dragging my magazines out of my carry-on and gazing munificently about the cabin really make me feel as though I have just grown a new, pressurized aluminum skin and from then until I exit said plane, I am INDESTRUCTIBLE. and, 99.999999999999999999999999999 times out of 100, I AM.
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