Today I went to Japantown, ostensibly to go grocery shopping. Of course I ended up spending the whole afternoon there, feeling very nostalgic. Also, Japanese keeps popping out of me at unexpected times. Today, as I was squatting down in the supermarket aisle looking at ochazuke seasoning, I had my little shopping basket on the ground in the middle of the aisle. A man coming down the aisle said excuse me as he passed the basket, and I moved it, saying "sumimasen" just like I would have in Japan! "Sumimasen, I mean, sorry!" is actually what I mumbled.
Yesterday, I went to dim sum in Chinatown. In response to the lady pushing the food cart, asking if I wanted something, I said "Hai, I mean yes, uhh...okay..." and then ending lamely in Mandarin. It's like the switch in my head that means "foreign" has been thrown over to "Japanese."
So I wandered around the supermarket today, feeling very excited about sesame salad dressing, Japanese roasted rice green tea (I paid a fortune! comparatively speaking), the aforementioned ochazuke seasoning, and gomoku rice mix. Ahhh...I wouldn't mind living in Japantown and going every few days. I saw the meats packed the way I was used to seeing it in Matsuyama--none of that Safeway frozen meat in big bags shit. I'd gotten so used to shopping every few days. I know that I complained about it at the time (have to go shopping again!!) but now I kind of wish I had the luxury to do that. Not to mention lived near enough to an affordable supermarket.
Then I wandered around Ichiban-kan. Earlier I was bemoaning the fact that there is not a Daiso in SF (closest one's in Daly City, and there's one right by my house). But Ichiban-kan in the peace plaza is a pretty close substitution. The selection is smaller but pretty similar, and the prices are variable but still in the $1-$4 range. Score! I got myself some random kitchen things, like a rice scoop with a suction cup holder which sticks to the side of your rice cooker ($1.25).
And there was an Andersen bakery inside, with the workers wearing pretty much the same uniform as they do in Japan. I'm convinced now that the Andersen bakery chain here is the same as the one in Japan, despite a complete lack of internet evidence to indicate that. It's just too eerily similar.
Yesterday, I tried to get into the DeYoung museum to see the Chihuly exhibit. At 2pm, the tickets were sold out. I was really disappointed, but since I was in the park already, I just wandered down the street next door to the Japanese Tea Garden. It was kind of nice, and much larger than I expected (larger, for example, than Hakone Gardens in Saratoga). Pretty little ponds, a few fish, bridges, trees, rock garden, and (the highlight) one of those really really steep and round bridges ("drum bridge" ?). Usually when I see those in Japan they are roped off and you can't actually walk on it, but I got to climb on this one :-D The story behind it was really sad, though. Apparently the architect sold his family rice fields to complete the bridge and the gate to the gardens, and then his son stayed in the U.S. nearly half a century, working and saving to repurchase the family rice fields! Cool as it was...I don't think it could have been worth that. There was also a little pagoda in there, and some painted gates and stuff.
It was lovely, nostalgia-inducing, but also I couldn't help but feel that everything was fake. The pathways were a convenient grey roadway tar, whereas in Japan they would have been shoe-killing gravel. The pagoda was ridiculously miniature...so small that you would have had to crawl into the first floor, if that were allowed. There were little garden statues of frogs and birds around (like, WTF?). And the tea pavilion was being served by young Asian women (most likely not Japanese) in badly worn touristy kimonos. :-/
All in all, I think I prefer the pilgrimage to the supermarket a bit more. If the Japanese tea garden were free, I think I'd go more often to get a little fix of Japanese park prettiness. But...yeah. Next time I will RESERVE TICKETS to get into the DeYoung.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
the people are different...
also on the list of things to get used to:
Diversity. Hearing different languages on the street actually startled me the other day. Though, not just ethnic diversity but diversity of all sorts. Matsuyama was a pretty uniform kind of town, with the same sorts of people in it. Not too many stand-outs in the crowd.
Attitude. Need I say more? Americans got attitude. At least, some of them have a lot of it.
Diversity. Hearing different languages on the street actually startled me the other day. Though, not just ethnic diversity but diversity of all sorts. Matsuyama was a pretty uniform kind of town, with the same sorts of people in it. Not too many stand-outs in the crowd.
Attitude. Need I say more? Americans got attitude. At least, some of them have a lot of it.
Monday, September 1, 2008
done?
Other thoughts:
Man, it is SO NICE to be able to communicate in English. Or really, to never have to worry about communication problems and wondering if I'll be able to do what I need to do. I can just call up ATT and order internet, or call up PGE and turn on gas, start a new bank account, clear up issues with online orders, or any number of things, in my native language, and it works! No worries! Wow. Always, though, at the back of my mind, I think, "This would be really hard if English weren't your native language. Gee, there must be some way to make this easier to understand for non-native speakers."
I was driving in SF the other day, moving stuff in. It was kind of not very easy, as I am used to driving in suburban San Jose. But it was still loads easier than driving in Matsuyama would be. I was struck by how wide the roads are, even in a biggish city like SF. The U.S. is biggggg....
I got thirsty and lamented the fact that there weren't vending machines conveniently everywhere, like in Japan. The landscape is just totally different.
I miss my Japanese phone.
Suddenly, I can afford to buy fruit again. And clothing. Japan is the world's second largest economy...but I still think the general quality of life here is better--there is more that is affordable and within reach for the average (or even not quite average) person. Starting with deliciously juicy white peaches...mmmmm.
I suppose now that I'm no longer living my year in Japan, I ought to bring this blog to a close. Or rename it, or something. Hmmmm...
Man, it is SO NICE to be able to communicate in English. Or really, to never have to worry about communication problems and wondering if I'll be able to do what I need to do. I can just call up ATT and order internet, or call up PGE and turn on gas, start a new bank account, clear up issues with online orders, or any number of things, in my native language, and it works! No worries! Wow. Always, though, at the back of my mind, I think, "This would be really hard if English weren't your native language. Gee, there must be some way to make this easier to understand for non-native speakers."
I was driving in SF the other day, moving stuff in. It was kind of not very easy, as I am used to driving in suburban San Jose. But it was still loads easier than driving in Matsuyama would be. I was struck by how wide the roads are, even in a biggish city like SF. The U.S. is biggggg....
I got thirsty and lamented the fact that there weren't vending machines conveniently everywhere, like in Japan. The landscape is just totally different.
I miss my Japanese phone.
Suddenly, I can afford to buy fruit again. And clothing. Japan is the world's second largest economy...but I still think the general quality of life here is better--there is more that is affordable and within reach for the average (or even not quite average) person. Starting with deliciously juicy white peaches...mmmmm.
I suppose now that I'm no longer living my year in Japan, I ought to bring this blog to a close. Or rename it, or something. Hmmmm...
Friday, August 29, 2008
goodbye, Japan -- hello, San Francisco
Home....I am home. In the U.S., in my parents' house now. Things have been so busy with the traveling, the unpacking, the re-packing, and the preparations to move to my new apartment in San Francisco. I haven't had time to post anything.
reverse culture shock...going to eat at Chili's the night of my arrival home. Wow...obese people. Wow...it's a dirty mess (at least the one near my house is). Wow...customer service. Wow...having to pay tax and tip on meals again.
On the plus side, I spent a weekend in SF. I saw the Frida exhibit at Moma, I saw the Dark Knight in IMAX at the Metreon, and I saw Jacqui Naylor perform at Yoshi's Jazz Bar and Japanese restaurant. (Well, I also picked up keys to my apartment and stuff). I was feeling really ambivalent about SF and having to readjust to a big city. But, I was really happy this weekend and couldn't help but think that wow...SF is just so...vibrant! I know that "vibrant" is a total cliche for describing a city, but I just couldn't help but feel that. It's so alive. It's much bigger than Boston. There are soooo many huge and amazing museums, performances, concerts, festivals going on all the time. It would be hard to get bored here. And yet, it's not hugely overwhelming like Tokyo or NY. I <3.
So...I should enjoy my last few days of freedom before having to start freaking out over medical school and actually starting to study again.
reverse culture shock...going to eat at Chili's the night of my arrival home. Wow...obese people. Wow...it's a dirty mess (at least the one near my house is). Wow...customer service. Wow...having to pay tax and tip on meals again.
On the plus side, I spent a weekend in SF. I saw the Frida exhibit at Moma, I saw the Dark Knight in IMAX at the Metreon, and I saw Jacqui Naylor perform at Yoshi's Jazz Bar and Japanese restaurant. (Well, I also picked up keys to my apartment and stuff). I was feeling really ambivalent about SF and having to readjust to a big city. But, I was really happy this weekend and couldn't help but think that wow...SF is just so...vibrant! I know that "vibrant" is a total cliche for describing a city, but I just couldn't help but feel that. It's so alive. It's much bigger than Boston. There are soooo many huge and amazing museums, performances, concerts, festivals going on all the time. It would be hard to get bored here. And yet, it's not hugely overwhelming like Tokyo or NY. I <3.
So...I should enjoy my last few days of freedom before having to start freaking out over medical school and actually starting to study again.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
totally off topic, but...
Well, I am in Tokyo traveling with my family. They are jetlagged and asleep. I am awake at 12:43 am when I should clearly be asleep so I can stay on the same schedule as them. Instead, I am awake...because I have been caught like a fly in the web of blogging and commenters!
While I was following links and links through several feminist blog posts (very interesting stuff, as usual, rec'd by a good friend of mine active in the feminist blogosphere) I finally found this: http://scienceblogs.com/pharyngula/2006/08/a_suggestion_for_the_comments.php
In the end (haha) on a science blog. I guess I like it a lot because it speaks to how I feel about dialogue, especially dialogue carried out not in person with people one doesn't really know.
While I was following links and links through several feminist blog posts (very interesting stuff, as usual, rec'd by a good friend of mine active in the feminist blogosphere) I finally found this: http://scienceblogs.com/pharyngula/2006/08/a_suggestion_for_the_comments.php
In the end (haha) on a science blog. I guess I like it a lot because it speaks to how I feel about dialogue, especially dialogue carried out not in person with people one doesn't really know.
Monday, August 4, 2008
Naoshima
Last week Tomoko and I drove to some neighboring prefectures for a short bit of travel. The highlight was definitely Naoshima in Kagawa prefecture. Naoshima is a small island in the Seto Inland Sea that is known primarily for its art and architecture. In addition to several large sculptures dotting the landscape around the island, there are several buildings designed by renowned architect Tadao Ando, some of which house artworks by various artists, including James Turell and Walter DeMaria.
Maybe those names don't mean anything to most people (they didn't to me) but the whole experience was amazing. Stepping into the Chichu art museum was like stepping into an alternate universe. I felt like I had wandered into something like the world of Mirrormask. That particular museum was a kind of winding white building that penetrates three stories into the earth. It really only has 4 exhibits. One was a very very white room holding several enormous Monet paintings. It looked cool, but it was certainly the most conventional of the exhibits. The other exhibits were a first of its kind to me. Those three artists I named--I can't even describe them. They could be sculptors? There were works of art that I could walk into, interact with, experience, breathe...I mean, Tadao Ando was the most obvious, as his museum is itself a building that people enter--and thus it creates an environment like an alternate universe. But I was so impressed by Turrell's work in the Chichu museum. You walk into a room that's kind of dimly lit in a burnt orange. There are black marble stairs against a wall, and they seem to lead up to a large glowing purple rectangle on the wall. The purple rectangle looks like a glowing sheet of paper or perhaps a light projection. You walk up the gleaming marble stairs to just inches away from the purple rectangle, and it still looks like...otherworldly. The guide prompts you to put out your hands and you realize that it is actually an opening to a room. He then prompts you to step up, through the glowing doorway and into the purple room. Everything is a weird unearthly shade, and even kind of hazy, as if stepping through a fog. You can explore the room, see where the light source is coming from, feel the rounded edges...I mean seriously, otherworldly. Like being kidnapped by aliens.
A similar piece of work was another Tadao Ando/James Turell collaboration. There is an area of Naoshima known as the art house project, where artists have taken old homes or shrines and kind of reformed them. This other building was also kind of an experiential light design art. You walk in to a large warehouse...and simply by virtue of a few turns and well placed walls, arrive in total, complete darkness. It was downright frightening--blink all you want, wave your hands inches in front of your face, and there was absolutely nothing. You sit down with others at a bench and kind of just stare into the darkness and wait. Waiting is unnerving. You blink a lot and kind of see the floaters in your eyes. Then you kind of see some patches of very very faint light, orangeish maybe, greenish maybe, float across your totally dark field of vision. Are those floaters? Is that a product of your brain adjusting to the darkness? Or are you really seeing those lights undulating and pulsating in faint blobs? Finally you realize that they must be real lights, because the rectangular shape of the far wall settles into a faintly lighted form. If you wave your hands in front of your eyes, you can kind of see the outline of them now. And then, the guide says, please walk towards the light. I was with Tomoko at the time and, still genuinely freaked out, still largely in the dark, clasped her hand as we both walked forwards. Reaching the far wall revealed that it, too, was a kind of rectangular opening that cleverly hid the light source. The lights sources on either side that were responsible for the undulating blobs were cleverly hidden by undulations in the ceiling. They had settled into an orange-ish color, I think, and were no longer undulating. I'll never know if I imagined the color changing and the blobs moving, because the lights didn't look as though they were capable of moving or changing color, especially silently.
Turell is like, the ultimate light designer.
Anyways, those were two of my brief out-of-this-world experiences. Wayy cool. I'm addicted.
Maybe those names don't mean anything to most people (they didn't to me) but the whole experience was amazing. Stepping into the Chichu art museum was like stepping into an alternate universe. I felt like I had wandered into something like the world of Mirrormask. That particular museum was a kind of winding white building that penetrates three stories into the earth. It really only has 4 exhibits. One was a very very white room holding several enormous Monet paintings. It looked cool, but it was certainly the most conventional of the exhibits. The other exhibits were a first of its kind to me. Those three artists I named--I can't even describe them. They could be sculptors? There were works of art that I could walk into, interact with, experience, breathe...I mean, Tadao Ando was the most obvious, as his museum is itself a building that people enter--and thus it creates an environment like an alternate universe. But I was so impressed by Turrell's work in the Chichu museum. You walk into a room that's kind of dimly lit in a burnt orange. There are black marble stairs against a wall, and they seem to lead up to a large glowing purple rectangle on the wall. The purple rectangle looks like a glowing sheet of paper or perhaps a light projection. You walk up the gleaming marble stairs to just inches away from the purple rectangle, and it still looks like...otherworldly. The guide prompts you to put out your hands and you realize that it is actually an opening to a room. He then prompts you to step up, through the glowing doorway and into the purple room. Everything is a weird unearthly shade, and even kind of hazy, as if stepping through a fog. You can explore the room, see where the light source is coming from, feel the rounded edges...I mean seriously, otherworldly. Like being kidnapped by aliens.
A similar piece of work was another Tadao Ando/James Turell collaboration. There is an area of Naoshima known as the art house project, where artists have taken old homes or shrines and kind of reformed them. This other building was also kind of an experiential light design art. You walk in to a large warehouse...and simply by virtue of a few turns and well placed walls, arrive in total, complete darkness. It was downright frightening--blink all you want, wave your hands inches in front of your face, and there was absolutely nothing. You sit down with others at a bench and kind of just stare into the darkness and wait. Waiting is unnerving. You blink a lot and kind of see the floaters in your eyes. Then you kind of see some patches of very very faint light, orangeish maybe, greenish maybe, float across your totally dark field of vision. Are those floaters? Is that a product of your brain adjusting to the darkness? Or are you really seeing those lights undulating and pulsating in faint blobs? Finally you realize that they must be real lights, because the rectangular shape of the far wall settles into a faintly lighted form. If you wave your hands in front of your eyes, you can kind of see the outline of them now. And then, the guide says, please walk towards the light. I was with Tomoko at the time and, still genuinely freaked out, still largely in the dark, clasped her hand as we both walked forwards. Reaching the far wall revealed that it, too, was a kind of rectangular opening that cleverly hid the light source. The lights sources on either side that were responsible for the undulating blobs were cleverly hidden by undulations in the ceiling. They had settled into an orange-ish color, I think, and were no longer undulating. I'll never know if I imagined the color changing and the blobs moving, because the lights didn't look as though they were capable of moving or changing color, especially silently.
Turell is like, the ultimate light designer.
Anyways, those were two of my brief out-of-this-world experiences. Wayy cool. I'm addicted.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Climbing Mt Fuji
For all you even thinking of climbing it...it's HARD. Yes, it's touristy and stuff, especially during the on-season. But it's not like it's paved all the way up. And it's HIGH. You WILL find it hard to breathe, regardless of whether you actually get altitude sickness.
Well, okay, some background to put the following comments into perspective. I'm Asian, 5' 2", 120 lbs ish, and not terribly in shape. My idea of a workout is a 45 minutes of a dance video.
Fuji was HARD. The ascent was difficult; the descent was difficult and horrifying. We were a group of 10, starting from the 5th station at around 6pm. We got to our rest house somewhere almost at the 8th station at around 10:30 pm. We were then told that most people, in order to reach the summit to watch the sunrise, leave around midnight. Midnight! Uhm, yeah, so we caught like an hour's worth of sleep and set out again. I didn't think the altitude would affect me much. After all, I'm relatively small and so I don't need as much oxygen, right? WRONG! It was definitely hard to breathe. Every step made me pant. It felt like there was a weight on my chest all the time. By the time I reached the top (not in time for the sunrise, but almost!), any kind of exertion faster than a snail's pace made me feel nauseated. Yah, this shit is no joke, it sucks.
The ascent was just tiring, but there was the tantalizing reward of ever greater views. The descent was by the Fujinomiya route, which was a zigzag route down the mountain. It was awful. Fuji is like how I'd imagine Mars to be, all red volcanic scree, some loose gravel and some big rocks. I couldn't decide which was better, going down. Big rocks offer stability, but you have to pick your footing through them. Loose gravel you can just slide down...but sliding down it sucks and I fell on my butt/twisted my ankle/screwed up my knee about a zillion times. Permanent damage! And it was sunny and hot.
Okay so here's the advice.
Things I particularly couldn't live without:
Headlamp. I definitely needed BOTH my hands to help me scramble up the mountain at night, and the headlamp was invaluable in letting me figure out where to put my feet.
Gloves. Volcanic scree, remember? Without gloves I couldn't really have used my hands to help me up. Or gripped the rope tightly to keep me from falling so much, all the way down the mountain.
Sunglasses. Sunrise at the top, brutal sun on the way down. And since we were above the clouds...yeah. Even more brutal. On that note...
Sunscreen. The power of sunscreen, man. Some of us in the party had huge stripes of red from where they missed a swathe of skin with their sunscreen. I applied it twice, and I still got burned on my neck. And I rarely burn! I usually just tan.
Other stuff:
Hiking up the mountain in jeans is okay. Really. But really, I should have brought a complete set of clean clothes and an alternate set of shoes or something, cuz after the climb I spent like 8 hours of the rest of the day on a train, feeling pretty gross.
The ascent was totally worth it. The descent? Not so much. We were lucky...it didn't rain, and it wasn't even that cold. And our group was very good.
Well, okay, some background to put the following comments into perspective. I'm Asian, 5' 2", 120 lbs ish, and not terribly in shape. My idea of a workout is a 45 minutes of a dance video.
Fuji was HARD. The ascent was difficult; the descent was difficult and horrifying. We were a group of 10, starting from the 5th station at around 6pm. We got to our rest house somewhere almost at the 8th station at around 10:30 pm. We were then told that most people, in order to reach the summit to watch the sunrise, leave around midnight. Midnight! Uhm, yeah, so we caught like an hour's worth of sleep and set out again. I didn't think the altitude would affect me much. After all, I'm relatively small and so I don't need as much oxygen, right? WRONG! It was definitely hard to breathe. Every step made me pant. It felt like there was a weight on my chest all the time. By the time I reached the top (not in time for the sunrise, but almost!), any kind of exertion faster than a snail's pace made me feel nauseated. Yah, this shit is no joke, it sucks.
The ascent was just tiring, but there was the tantalizing reward of ever greater views. The descent was by the Fujinomiya route, which was a zigzag route down the mountain. It was awful. Fuji is like how I'd imagine Mars to be, all red volcanic scree, some loose gravel and some big rocks. I couldn't decide which was better, going down. Big rocks offer stability, but you have to pick your footing through them. Loose gravel you can just slide down...but sliding down it sucks and I fell on my butt/twisted my ankle/screwed up my knee about a zillion times. Permanent damage! And it was sunny and hot.
Okay so here's the advice.
Things I particularly couldn't live without:
Headlamp. I definitely needed BOTH my hands to help me scramble up the mountain at night, and the headlamp was invaluable in letting me figure out where to put my feet.
Gloves. Volcanic scree, remember? Without gloves I couldn't really have used my hands to help me up. Or gripped the rope tightly to keep me from falling so much, all the way down the mountain.
Sunglasses. Sunrise at the top, brutal sun on the way down. And since we were above the clouds...yeah. Even more brutal. On that note...
Sunscreen. The power of sunscreen, man. Some of us in the party had huge stripes of red from where they missed a swathe of skin with their sunscreen. I applied it twice, and I still got burned on my neck. And I rarely burn! I usually just tan.
Other stuff:
Hiking up the mountain in jeans is okay. Really. But really, I should have brought a complete set of clean clothes and an alternate set of shoes or something, cuz after the climb I spent like 8 hours of the rest of the day on a train, feeling pretty gross.
The ascent was totally worth it. The descent? Not so much. We were lucky...it didn't rain, and it wasn't even that cold. And our group was very good.
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