Tokyo Notes

Oddly, I'm in Shonanfukasawa school, and someone has a leaky wireless network nearby.... I'm here to cover someone's holiday - usually Tuesday is my day off, so unfortunately, I won't be able to use it again.

Interesting journey here: on the monorail. This is a wacky railway line suspended from tall poles high above the streets. The stations, too, are on platforms at about 3rd floor level. I guess there wasn't enough space to build ordinary track.

Trip to Kawasaki, Yokohama Chinatown and Sankaien Gardens for cherry blossom viewing. So, Cherry Blossoms: looking at them is a passionately supported national pastime. They are quite pretty, and their season is fleeting, but I don't yet understand the universal obsession with them. We went to Sankaien in the evening, when they floodlight the trees. There was a group of musicians in traditional costume playing the Japanese harp and flute. It was quite a magical experience. Most people were dressed exceptionally elegantly, and the place had the feel of a posh summer wedding. We drank omazaki, which is hot sake with rice - rather like Atholl Brose if you've ever had that.

Chinatown bustled and revelled in its gaudiness. We ate at a tiny, quaint restaurant, with a display of old clocks in its window, which looked like it had been unchanged for 60 years. The proprietors were two stooped old ladies, who were magnificently grumpy and surly but made and served excellent food. It is so small that there is no possibility of a table to oneself: the other diners sit opposite and next to one, and conversation flows. It is not regarded as impolite to make very load slurping noises when eating noodles; in fact, the louder you slurp, the more you show your appreciation of the food. I was told, and am compelled to believe, that TV adverts for noodle restaurants have a background soundtrack of slurping, so strong is slurping's association with tastiness. My slurps, despite my best efforts, were pretty feeble in comparison to my fellow noodle-eaters'.

It turns out on closer enquiry that futon become uncomfortable over time if one doesn't air them often enough. Doh!

Last ever Mark and Lard. Not sure I approve of the high regard in which they have held Travis, but their in-jokes, silliness and vulgar innuendo were vital to life, especially when I worked at the STA. How we rolled about laughing.

Very heavy rain today, and snow is expected tonight. I've updated last week's entries with some stuff I wrote but forgot to post.

My futon, provided by Shane, at my expense, is uncomfortable. It's a thin one, designed to be placed on tatami mats, but my flat has wood effect floors. It's been causing me some pain, so I had to get a new one. I went to Muji, whose stuff I really like. Muji shops in Britain are small, expensive, but high quality boutiques. Here, they sell the same gear, but are pretty cheap. Since a futon is quite bulky, I had to arrange to have them deliver it. Takako came along to help me do this, and insisted that I do the talking, which was, of course, a Good Thing. She hovered in the background, and, whenever my Japanese dried up, which was often, she fed me a line. It was a pretty comical scene, but I succeeded in keeping a straight face. Futon arrives Tuesday week, all being well.

Day trip to Shuzenji Onsen. Onsen is a bath in a hot volcanic spring. There are plenty of Onsen resorts, because there is plenty of naturally hot water in Japan, and because it's a very pleasant activity. It disproves that rule, to which I'd previously given some credence, which states that all pleasures in life are either illegal, immoral or fattening. Shuzenji Onsen itself is a picturesque little town (pictures to follow), with red and gold lacquered bridges across its river, a hill one can climb to look at it all from, and a number of old-seeming buildings. Genuinely old buildings are rare since they have to have been lucky enough to survive a number of big earthquakes - so most are fabrications. This is especially true of shrines, which tend to be torn down and rebuilt every twenty years, partly for the sake of spiritual cleanliness, and partly to preserve the craft of shrine building.

There are a number of bath houses around the town, most attached to a hotel. I went to a free-standing one, built of various woods. I knew something of the appropriate etiquette because I was taken to a sento, the urban equivalent, soon after I arrived in Japan, so didn't embarrass myself too much. Inside, the heat of the water releases the scents of the pine and cedar creating a delicious atmosphere. I lay in the hot water for about half an hour. And that's it. Very simple, but I came out feeling very chilled indeed.

Thanks for the comments on the photos. The galleries do look a bit broken: I'll fix the stylesheet for them, but don't expect it anytime soon.

For the first time since Christmas, I have no work for three days in a row. This is a long longed-for break. Today I did chores: cleaning, paperwork, shopping, haircut. I went to the same barber as before; it seems like no time since I was last there, but in fact it's almost three months. Simino, the barber's wife, remembered me: there are very few gaijin here. She brought her 6 year old daughter out into the shop, and I did the English teacher bit: so much for a day off. She also gave the same post-coiffure buttering-up about my looking like Tom Cruise. It was Brad Pitt last time, but when I tried to point this out, she misunderstood, and thought that I regarded her comparison today as inadequate to my extreme good looks. Her very, very raucous laughter at this idea was mildly wounding.

More photos.

Trip to Enoshima. Takako, my Japanese teacher, or language exchange partner, took me. It's actually a part-exchange - she gets taught English by me and Gary on alternate Sundays, and then we have a joint Japanese session. Enoshima is a pretty but tourist-robbery-shop infested island connected to Fujisawa by a bridge. There is a legend about it which states that if you go there with your girlfriend you won't get married. A lot of men take their girlfriends, just to make sure.

On the way back we stopped off at an okonomi-yaki restaurant. The tables have a large metal plate sunk into their centres, heated by a gas flame beneath. On this, the waiter cooks a fat pancake-like object filled with fillings to one's specification. This is okonomi-yaki, and very delicious it is too.

More photos, this time of Shinjuku. I went there on about 15th Feb.

Photos. I've put up those from my trip to Hakone in December. More will follow as I get round to it.

Into Fujisawa to attend to numerous tedious necessities, including getting my pictures developed. Mister Minit wanted to charge me an absurd amount to mend my shoe. I was quite pleased with myself for understanding such a large number, but felt disinclined to pay the sum it represented.

Fuji visible from my station. It's a dramatic sight, rising as it does to twice the height of the surrounding hills. From some places, only the snow cap is apparent above the horizon; it looks like an odd, symmetrical cloud in the blue sky. Today is clear and crisp, as are so many Mondays. At New Year, there was a run of clear, crisp days, and I was told that this was because fewer car journeys are made, and the factories close, over the holiday. I scoffed, inwardly. But now, I'm starting to believe in a weekly smog cycle: I've seen so many bright blue Mondays, and have never seen Fuji on a Friday.

My slacker's Monday at work is no more: I have a new advanced student in the evening whose lesson expands my shift to the full nine hours. The good news is: she works for IBM, and not only that: in the ThinkPad service department! She brought me an envelope full of those little red caps for the mouse thingy, which get so manky so quickly, and are so hard to find in the shops. She paid for a full year of lessons in advance, having met me for 20 minutes last week. I happened to see her settling up, and the sight of the enormous pile of banknotes that she handed over shook me. I'm so glad I didn't see any of this when I started in October: then, I felt like such a shyster, and to have seen just how much money I was defrauding my students of would have troubled me.

Fujisawa town square: 3 nationalists have got onto the roof of the Odakyu department store and are shouting about Americans through megaphones. The fire brigade have arrived, and, with their ladders fully extended, are climbing up to reason with them. A crowd stands on the walkways around the station and looks on. A brass band wanders out of the station, in smart white uniforms with gold epaulettes, carrying a variety of instruments, including a real live sousaphone.