Tokyo Notes

Trip to Ueno. Ueno Park contains most of Japan's national museums, a big concert hall and more homeless people, with more of their big blue tarpaulins. I got there quite late, so just wandered around, enjoying the evening light and the sculptures. Practised reading composers' names in katakana on the CDs in the gift shop at the Bunka Kaiken; I really ought to be better at this by now.

Writing this is more of a pleasure than usual: I have got my browser to use the XFreeType fonts - they are gorgeous.

Trip to Shinjuku. This is the area which allegedly inspired the street scenes in Blade Runner. (The panoramic views were inspired by, um, Scunthorpe. Correct me if I'm incorrect.) You can kind of see why: the narrow streets with noodle bars and electronics shops spilling onto them; and neon, everywhere, moving tirelessly. I saw a smug looking man standing guard over a very large black BMW parked outside a basement bar. I ate a delicious combination of pork cutlet, scrambled egg and seaweed. People shouted at me from shops to buy their stuff. I bought a very cheap watch, and it's still working now, even after all this time. But the Blade Runner effect was diluted by the sunshine: I think it would be more pronounced on a wet evening.

Shinjuku is a divided district. On the other side of the tracks, lies the centre of Japan's power and wealth. The gleaming skyscrapers, arranged sparsely around plazas and wide streets inspire some awe. The area felt relaxed and pleasant; it might well be different during the week. Although peaceful, and occasionally breathtaking, the effect as a whole was unengaging: the buildings were at rest, and disinclined to acknowledge my visit.

I moved on to Shinjuku Central Park. Plenty of kids hanging out, and Sunday strollers enjoying the low winter light, and the views of the tall buildings softened by the bare trees. A number of homeless people live in the park, and their arrangements fascinated me. Each has a large blue tarpaulin with which he makes a semi-permanent home. There are three main ways of doing this: a straightforward tent; a low enclosure made from cardboard with the tarpaulin as roof; or, where possible, a cunning bivouac strung between trees and a park bench. Few people were at home when I was there (who'd want to be in a box on a sunny afternoon – that's why I'd left my flat) but there was evidence of some sophistication. Some had paraffin stoves nearby; most had a broom and a pair of slippers stacked neatly next to them. One man was in residence: he was huddled in his box smoking and listening to a little radio.

Valentine's day - and I received gifts from two charming ladies of my acquaintance. Alas, a Valentine's day gift here does not necessarily have any romantic significance. The custom is for women to give presents to various men, particularly their bosses and teachers. Any men receiving gifts must reciprocate on "White Day", on 14th March. White Day was invented about 20 years ago by a chocolate manufacturer. Nonetheless, it is a firm tradition, and I must give something to my students in a month.

A few eyebrows have been raised at my reference to hanko. A hanko is a little stamp, unique to each person, which is used to make documents legally binding. It's used for the same things that we use a signature for. For it to be official you have to register your hanko at the city hall, who issue you with a certificate. For really big legal stuff, like buying a house, you have to show the certificate as well as stamping your mark. I don't have one: few gaijin do; I squeeze my signature into the little circle intended for the hanko imprint.

I am a bicycle owner. It now takes 5 minutes to get to the station: this cuts half an hour off my working day and is a Good Thing. I zoom down the pavement, scattering the oppressed pedestrian minority. I deplored this when I walked, more then once having to leap out of the way of an old lady whose steering skill I wasn't prepared to test. I discovered the reason for their not cycling in the road as I returned home from the bike shop: it's just too hairy. I had a couple of near-death (well, sudden braking, if you insist) experiences, both due to my not understanding who has priority at junctions. I knew that anyone is allowed to turn left under almost any circumstance, but there also seems to be a subtle signal, which I must emit unconsciously, which informs SUV drivers that they should turn right across one's path. After these, I got into the slipstream of someone who looked like he knew what he was doing, and had no further problems.

In the circle of earth around the tree outside Shonandai station, a man, 10 times older than any part of the town, exercised his rabbits, feeding them slices of apple.

Japanese lesson this morning: free one at Fujisawa youth centre. Last one until May, alas. However, possibilities are on the horizon. First, one of my students has offered to teach me, in return for childcare costs and coffee (and presumably presents from time to time). Second, one of Gary's receptionists will do a language exchange: she'll teach us return for an English lesson. If we split this two ways it becomes a less onerous payment. Third, one of the teachers at the youth centre might also do an exchange, and we might be able to split this one three ways: Bernadette, another Shane teacher is interested. Three lessons a week is probably necessary if I want to stay on course for the Proficiency Test in November.

A sickening thud alerted me to my bag, containing my computer, having fallen to the ground. I was sure it was a gonner. With great relief, I discovered that nothing more vital than one of the case clips was damaged. I fixed that by prodding it with a clothes peg. Have started looking at this sort of thing - they're terribly ugly though.

It's a varied job. Today I pretended to be a monkey for an extended period, explained the relationship between the BBC and the government, answered some probing questions on the life and works of JRR Tolkein, and made animals and bowls of fruit out of Play Doh. The past perfect continuous passive caused my student to laugh, unexpectedly. Quite right too: it's an absurd tense.

There's a close affinity between Japan and Brazil. My occasional drinking buddy Ondray noticed this. He lived in Sao Paolo for a while, where there's a substantial Japanese community. It came up when we spotted that people wearing Brazilian flags were getting free drinks. We couldn't figure out the connection. My student this evening explained all, as he has explained so many puzzling observations. Between the wars, Japan was exceptionally poor, and many emigrated to Brazil, chosen for its society's tolerant racial attitudes, where they were paid well and treated kindly. As fortunes have changed, the favour has been returned to some extent. This interchange has had a beneficial effect on the Japanese football team, most famously through this bloke, who is now a well-loved pundit.