Ramblings and shamblings

I have, once again, been a terrible  blogger, or rather a multi focused one. The ceramics blog I started has been getting its biweekly attention, and the reviews have been nothing but stellar thus far. However, with the ceramics in full swing I all too often forget about the happenings of my life that the few readers of this web space might be interested in.

The long and short of it is that for the past two or three weeks I have been a bit of a home body. Trying to focus intensly on health for several weeks, and then last week came along and hit the reset button. Last week was Graduation and exams to close out the Japanese school year. This meant longer hours at school, less time in the pottery studio, big work dinner parties, drinking with my principal (that guy is crazy!), and generally not having time to fit work outs into my day to day life. This has resulted in me feeling rather akin to a hippo on this slightly gloomy monday mid morning.

I'm not sure I have ever really talked about it much on this blog, but I have been battling with health and fitness since my days at Hamilton Jr. High. Things came to a head my junior year of college when I weighed in at a massive 295 pounds. With a bit of motivation, more attention to portion and food choice, and daily hard work outs I dropped down to about 250 by the end of my senior year. Then for about a year I played the up and down game between 240 and 260 while applying to the JET Program, but once I hit Japan the appearant lack of as many frankenfoods (seriously I buy almost ZERO preprepared things here. All fresh ingredients when I can) helped kick the fittness game into a new high. I currently float at about 220 or 215. This is great, and I have held there for my year and six months in Japan, but I am at the stage in my fittness goals where little week long vacations into indulgence set me back a months worth of working and being "on the plan". As a very goal oriented person those little back slides cause me considderable frustration, and last week was sure one of them. So it's back to the gym this week (I hope).

Yesterday was a rainy day as well, and I took some time to prep some new recycled beer can seed starters, and filled them with nastershum seeds, my spinach has beyond sprouted and seems healthy thus far, and even better is the continual flourishing of my 5 mini kale plants. I never get enough for a full meal, but I can harvest of good handfull and mix it in with spinach or other greens from the farmer's market any time. Let me tell you, the farmer's market and I are fasts friends now. All local, all in season, and all CHEAP! Look at all that fruit and veg for only about $25.

Get them veggies in ya!

More to come

Another BLOG?!

That's right fans! I've just launched a new blog, and this one is all ceramics all the time. This interweb sight is simply named A. Sartorius Ceramics , and you should go check it out! I have been hiding most of my photographed work since i came to Japan but no more.

In other, non-self promotive, news - it was COLD, COLD, FEAK'n COLD today. Susaki even got a a constant flurry of tiny flakes. The combination of cold and strong winds really makes bike rides substantially less than pleasant.

 I came home today and baked. I baked lemon short cakes for a friends birthday party tomorrow (to be topped with whipped cream and strawberries, transforming them into strawberry short cakes), but even more scrumptious is the make shift lox I concocted tonight. Make a quick and simple rye bread dough, top it with cracked black pepper, and bake it at 180C for about 20 min. Then spread black pepper cream cheese, layer on some sushi grade salmon, and top with tomatoes, red onion, and parsley in a lemon pepper dressing. DEVOUR in bliss. It has been a long time since I was so satisfied by my own cooking (not to toot my own horn or anything). In fact it has been a bit of a culinary dry spell. Guess I have been feeling a bit uninspired. NO more! God that was such a surprise good thing. GO MAKE TASTY THINGS!

More to come. 

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Quiet times

Susaki Wednesday, and the sun took her sweet time peeking out from behind the greying cloud cover. I had little to do today at work. The third year students are all finished for the year (4 of my ussual classes gone until April), and the second years are off on their school trip to Korea or Nagoya (another 3 of my weekly classes). This leaves me with 4 classes in 5 days, and a month and a half of less than busy teaching. Ceramics anyone? Despite the pain of cold hands and unheated studios I think it is well past time that I attempt to get my artist side back in action. I have been invited to two open air two day craft markets by a friend who frequently sets up a booth at them. One is in the beginning of March and one the beginning of May. I had orriginaly intended on not selling any of my work until I had some type of show or exhibition with it, but I am finding it more than a little difficult to get Japanese galleries on my side of the "Hey! let's help the new artist attempt to break into the feild, " equasion.   I am in the process of making a blog esspeicially for my ceramics. Just a space where I can post photos of my work, get feedback, and do a little shameless self promotion.

Two weekends ago I went to Osaka with 5 of the most wonderful folks to see my favorite band, Beirut. The show bordered on religious experience. I would see them again, again, and again x 1000! The openning act was a fantastic Japanese band called Shogu Tokamaru, and then Beirut blew the roof off. Two, four song encores, every song I was hoping they would play, and really close to the stage made it the best concert I've ever been to.

On the day to day front, I am REALLY enjoying practicing my banjo. I try to play about an hour a day if I can. That hour goes by very quickly. I made a modified version (have yet to find dill seeds in my super markets) of these pickled carrot sticks last night, and just finished scarfing down a delicious home grown kale, mushroom, and onion pizza (on rye crust!). Also (speaking of kale), check out my winter greens!

It's growning like a champ in my tiny green house. I am considdering buying another one in the hopes of starting more seeds this winter, but the reality of that has yet to be seen. I am not even 100% sure I need to keep the kale in that green house. I really miss having a garden. . . like you know, one you can stand in and don't have to buy the earth in plastic bags from the home and gardening store and carry it up like 8 flights of steps. Some day Andrew, some day.

Well, I would say this post has gone about as far as it will go for a time filler on my snailish day. Be happy, be well, and stay warm. More to come. . .

Total RECALL

25 Person Potluck Party in the Bear Den (two months ago)

The lingering gray of the summer's typhoon season decided to work its way out of mother nature's system on Friday. The morning started with that kind of mist that wasn't quite enough to make you put up your umbrella, but would undoubtedly swell as the day wore on into a constant and dreary drip. It's been a busier than busy, but I have reached a little lull allowing me to reflect on all the stories that I have accumulated and their relative importance.

What truly makes the cut for being worth reporting?

The truth is that much of my life isn't so different than any one else's life. Many, many weekends are spent having meals, drinks, or coffees with friends. Sharing on this blog has become a bit of a strange thing for me. I think I fell behind on posting partially because I was really busy, but more so because I have truly settled in after well over a year of being in Susaki. I think when I returned from home, after noticing so many differences and feeling really quite alien in my own country, I wanted to bask in the amazing familiarity of Japan. I take such comfort in the fact that I can contact friends to either side of my town and within an hour I can be certain I will be having a fantastic conversation that could (and always does) evolve into a grand night of fun. It is really easy to become so immersed in that immediate gratification that I tend to forget that I have ties just as strong (all be they flung far and wide) all over America.

Best beach find of my life. 

It's a bit like juggling two lives, but for some (those back in America) our life together is in a kind of suspended animation. We maintain all the vital signs and begin the auto defrost cycles on our cryogenic stasis pods to keep from developing freezer burn, but everything is slowed due to distance and the lack of shared experience. So, I guess it's my job to share more vigorously to prevent stasis lock.





In my past months I have:

• Oriented a group of 36 new JETs from all over the world to life in Kochi. That was a huge production and took a lot of planning with my fellow PA's. It went better than I could have hoped. 
• I floated down the Shimanto River numerous times with those friends I hold most dear whilst sipping on beers. 
• I hiked about 20 miles in seven hours for my first solo Henro excursion, which was beautiful, peaceful, and so dramatically different and vastly more gratifying than I expected solo hiking to be. 
• I sustained my first sorts related injury, due to the above mentioned solo hike, in the form of horribly shin splints on my right leg. (I am better now.)
• I returned to Tokyo, just two weeks ago on Wednesday, for another PA training session. 

Mike's surprise, Italian Mafia themed, dinner party. 

Amid all of this there were many dinner parties, cooking adventures (if you have never gone to this inter-web interest YOU MUST! She never leads me wrong in the recipe department), and other new and fantastic times with Colin, Marie, Mia, Jamie H, Jamie E, and the whole cast of favorite characters you may or may not know by name from the past year of posts.

Granted this isn't much, but it should at least paint a blurry picture of the past months for me. I will be making a bigger and better effort at keeping up with this whole writing thing. I like the idea of having a blog to look back on whenever I decided to return States side, and, after all, you've gotta keep those stasis pods at the right levels . . .


otherwise your friendships might go cold.
(too cheesy? That joke was made with my father in mind.)



As always
MORE TO COME.

Colin and Miss Mia (two of my very favorite people). 

A Bear in the Big City. April 6, 2011.

(DEAR SWEET LORD THIS IS LONG, LONG OVER DUE! I must, MUST DO BETTER) So first a not on the passing of time:

" It is already well into May. . . wait, WHAT! My time here is flying by at warp eleven. My weekends are typically supercharged with friends, food, sights, hiking swimming (well not yet but oh so soon!), cooking, and planning for the week that will inevitably follow the joyous ruckus that was miraculously crammed into two days. In summation, over a month has passed in what felt like the blink of an eye. I have many, many stories worthy of telling, but this post isalready written from oh so long ago and will be an adequate sacrifice to the mildly ignored interweb gods that be. I will try to catch up in the next two weeks with my chronicling of my time here. One of my new goals is to write more, so perhaps that will be the fire that gets me off my ass, and back to typing and thinking on writing. (One can only hope ne?"

The ceilings are low, and in an all too typical way I have to duck my head as I walk about (else risk a lump). Every table, booth, or bench is full to the brim with young Japanese people eating, drinking, and laughing. Two huge grill stations send out plumes of sweet smelling wood smoke, as the grill masters use dramatically long tongs to snatch various glistening fresh cuts of sea life from baskets lined with ice just in front of the fire pits. Glasses clink and you hear the words oishi and umai (both forms of delicious, or wonderful) coming from mouths full of flakey white fish. I work my way to the back corner table, behind the kegs, with its tiny un-backed chairs. We, the only two foreigners in here, were lucky to have Corey’s friend Ryo with us to get us the reservation. He orders a sampling of sea creatures and when asked what he ordered he doesn’t really reply – he just smiles knowingly. The small plates of food begin to roll in: grilled whole squid in ginger and shoyu (perfectly cooked). Corey, “That is so damn good! We gotta get another of those.” And we do. Everything: the squid, scallops, flat fish, three different types of small river fish, octopus, even the pregnant fish filled with their own babies then grilled in onions and garlic – it’s all just delicious. When asked what something is, Ryo responds in the way I now would expect most younger Osakan’s to reply. “Fuck the what is it man! Just eat it! It’s delicious.” Over the course of the meal we did squeeze in one plate of grill asparagus, and to round out the missing starches of the night we each had a few beers to wash down our banter and sea born feast. It was the best meal I’ve had in Japan; the presence of excellent company (which it seems I am never lacking these days) added to the night, but oh the food. I could not find the place again if I had to. I can tell you it is in Umeda (the centerish of Osaka, business skyscrapers and neon lights). It was a part of my weekend of being directed through a maze. Guided by friends and strangers I’d like to count as friends now through a noisy clustered mass of cars and streets, city like subways, and the biggest public transportation station I have ever had the pleasure of getting lost in. I am still recovering from my weekend in earnest, but man was it worth it.

So on to the rest of the story I suppose, or rather the filling in of the gaps. I went on a little mini spring vacation to the second biggest city in Japan, Osaka. Now, traditionally Osaka was the merchant city, and it’s always had this little rivalry with Tokyo. Osakan people think people who speak Tokyo influenced Japanese sound stiff and overly mannered, while to a Tokyo native Osakans come off as gruff and crude. Osaka is also the self-proclaimed food capital of Japan. I took a high way bus up on Friday, and spent my first two hours wandering Umeda Station (which in my defense is connected two subways, the JR Railways, JR commuter lines, the Airport Shuttles, and the Bus Station not to mention the snaking network of shops that course through that busy mini city) attempting to find the bathroom. I will also excuse my utter lack of direction with the fact that I awoke Thursday with a slight fever, a cough that set lightning a crackling through my lungs, and virtually no voice. I found my way to the Osaka Aquarium (BUT ANDREW YOU”VE BEEN THERE BEFORE! I love aquariums, and being that I had my fancy lovely new camera it seemed the perfect way to waist time in a relaxed space). After two hours and 153 pictures of jelly fish I headed to Shinsaibashi (famous restaurant district to meet up with my roommate from Tokyo Orientation, Carter (you may also remember him from such exciting posts as Naked Man).

Carter and I met up, and immediately went for grub. He is in Osaka almost every weekend, and being a fellow foody knows some damn fine eateries. Classically trained Mexican was on the menu for tonight. The place had charm and enough character to go around for years. Friendly staff, really really good food (the highlights for me were the slow cooked pork tongue tacos), and the margarita on the rocks made it quite the lovely dining experience. The lime and tequila helped my throat feel that false kind of better that you hope will last all night because you know when it goes away it’ll probably hurt worse. Then we met up with Carter’s friends and hand a long night of meeting new people. We slept in a capsule hotel (If you don’t know what this is, it is a rented bed and that is it. You rent a bed that is enclosed in a pod that you crawl into to sleep. Just enough space to sit up. No extra. Very cheap accommodations for frequent city commuters.)

The next day we went to an onsen (Japanese bath house) to wash away the smell of cigarettes and tortillas from the night before. Carter went off to meet a friend, and I met up with Corey (insert story about best food in Japan yet here). After I returned to a bar from the night before where there had been a fairly healthy crowd of English speakers. Carter and I wound up spending time with these Japanese chefs who spoke English very well, and seemed to think our food fascinations were endearing to say the least. They were fun beyond reckoning and kept us out till 8 in the A.M. talking and listening to live Brazilian music. After a night of no sleep, Carter departed for Wakayama and I was graciously entertained and fed well by my new Japanese friends who stayed with me until my bus left for Kochi at 1:30 that afternoon. The bus ride home was. . . well. . . filled with soar throats, uncontrollable coughing, and lots of napping. Traveling while sick, it seems makes, you sicker. Spent the rest of the week getting the green gunk outtalk my lungs, and terrorizing my office. My JTE’s all went a scattering at the mere sound of my raspy cough, and to this day they have not been seen near me (joking). I'm all well and fine now. More, more, more updates long over due to come. But now . . . . bed! but first Jelly fish and a turtle! for more go to my flickr page:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/bearsartorius/sets/72157626574318548/

One to Catch you up.

Well over two months ago I returned home on the anniversary of my first year in Japan. Fourteen hours on a plane, 5 full length feature films, two episodes of airplane TV, 1.5 warmed over cardboard tasting meals, and the seemingly mandatory unpleasantly rude and crowded two hour stagger through US immigration put me finally in the familiar embrace of my two very best friends.

(Now, you’ll notice, if you are an especially aware reader, that I went home way back in the beginning of August. Since we’re now to the late middle of October, I obviously have been a miserably undedicated narrator these past months. I hope to write another post with great haste to bring back the great and grand times of my past months, but let’s get back on track with the story at hand.)

My parents are simply put the best, and somehow my excitement to see them and the rest of my family destroyed the ever talked about trials of jetlag. I adjusted quickly to the time, and spent two weeks in Parkersburg (hence forth referred to as “The Burg”). I ate like a king for days on end. All the trappings of flavors long desired and seldom seen in Japan: salamis, cured meats, blue cheeses, cheap watermelon (this was fantastic), Mexican foods, Grandma’s angle food cake, and GOOD BEER (oh how I have missed good beers).

While the food was fantastic, the company was the real treat of being home. The time spent with my grandparents was especially wonderful. I finally got a chance to photograph my grandfather’s old cars and barns (I have been waiting for the right camera for this job for years it seems, and my Nikon really came through).

It was so great to spend those two weeks soaking in my family, but for all the greatness of my visit there was the undeniable strangeness of returning “home” to America. This can perhaps be best outlined by a shopping excursion to Sam’s Club. I never realized how different the shopping layouts and personal mannerisms of the crowds that surround you can affect you. Everything and everyone in Sam’s seemed huge and ridiculous to me. From the giagantor sized cuts of beef, pork, and chicken to the cheapness of the produce. From the towering ceilings to the super sized waist lines I saw, EVERYTHING WAS HUGE! It took my breath away, and blew my mind. My world was rocked. There were 100 times these realizations as I drove, walked, and looked upon my home town through the eyes of the me that has been living in Japan. This is something we’re told at every orientation meeting, and that I experienced personally when I returned from living in Nagasaki for a semester. Reverse culture shock is such a challenge for some, and for me I think it was made stronger by how much I adore my life here in Japan. NOT THAT I DIDN`T, OR DON`T, love my life back home, but my life here in Japan is so vastly different in so many ways that were I to return to living in The Burg it would seem like a great loss of many things I find comforting now. I won’t list those things, and know that many of them are the fantastic friends I’ve turned into my family away from family here, but it is safe to say that whenever I return to the States in a permanent way I predict it will take time to readjust to all the Americanisms.

I must be clear that I am not saying Japan is better than America, or that one place has it right – rather, I am saying that I clearly love my memories of home, and the bonds of friendship I have with my family are the foundation of all that I am, but flying back to Kochi felt a whole lot like coming home. This is the longest I have lived in one place since High school (without substantial breaks like there are in college). Nothing more, perhaps, then thoughts on a cloudy fall day. Home was indisputably wonderful, but I really can’t wait to share my new home with my parents and see their reactions to the world that has become so familiar to me over this past year.

More to come

Let’s Catching Up: Summer’s Come

Taste is such a potent sensation. Today my world tasted of bitter plums and overripe oranges, sweet tea and mango, and whiskey sours, homemade spinach mushroom pizzas, and farmer’s market tomatoes. All of these tastes are influenced by the brilliance of a cloud mottled sky set over a clear blue backdrop, a dramatic change from the darkness of yesterdays class 2 typhoon. Of course, it could just be the fact that I’m coming home for a visit in 8 days, a visit to clear my head and charge up those long depleted family circuits, that has me all bright and sunny. At any rate, much has happened since I attempted to blog in earnest. So, let’s see if I can make up a bit for lost time.

I sit in my Kitchen, deep cleaned for the looming trip home, with two fans oscillating. My shirt is off, and (unusually) it is pleasantly cool for summer in Kochi. the 48 plus hours of rain from the past several days, 1000 mm or 3.4 feet of water, must have wrung all the humidity out of the air. It feels like late winter felt here. Granted, late winter was T-shirt weather for me., but still, the cool is a welcome change of pace.

I’m finished with classes for the summer, and spending my days at school preparing for the incoming crowd of 31 fresh JETs from all over the English speaking world. I will fly to Tokyo in two days to welcome 14 of these fine young ones (some of which will doubtless be much older that I am) to the wonders of Japan. It is so strange to think that my full year in Japan anniversary hangs just a few days away. It feels like weeks, a testament to the truth behind that old saying, “ time flies, when you’re having fun”. In all seriousness though, My life here is like a dream 99% of the time. I spent last weekend floating down the last undamned river in Japan in a giant green inflatable pool (intended for children between that ages of 6 and 13) with a man who I consider my brother. For 1.5 hours we talked of the brilliance of our decision to come to Japan, and how we couldn’t imagine what life would have been had we chosen another path. Sure, we talked of many other things, we sipped beers, but the takeaway message is that we both feel (like many of my other dear friends here) that we are exactly where we need to be right now.

Nakamura, one of my many home away from homes in Kochi Prefecture, is full of faces I love, and we had a grand time of cooking, eating, and lounging in the Kochi, pre typhoon, sun. Then, post long weekend of great fun, came a Monday and Tuesday where the cloud cover did not break, the rain did not stop, and the wind bent trees in two. Typhoon MA was the equivalent of a class 2 hurricane. Other than the trains being shut down and school being called off for two days, it just seemed like a big storm. HOWEVER, it destroyed my garden. I watched in surprise and horror as my cucumbers went from strong and resilient behind their cement barrier to a giant double potted kite sailing on the rainy winds into the fortified tomatoes I had placed on the ground for protection. The cucumbers, rest well my fallen friends, only produced one fruit, and managed to almost take out my tomato and basil plants with them, but today was repot day and things are looking good.

I am excited to go home and see my long lost family in person, and I am excited for a break in the madness of what has become my overly (in a pleasant way) busy life. As I said before, I can’t imagine being anywhere else in life right now.

As always, more to come.

Rumination

There are so many stories I have to catch this blog up with. So many significant episodes in my daily existence – meaningful doodles scribed in brilliant colors, far brighter than anything some rainbow could imagine. Were I to try to write them all I fear I’d fill every page the internet had left. Moments like walking atop ice and snow crusted trails with fearful friends, a snake curling out from towering golden grasses to cross a raining beach side path, a teammates five year old daughter calling me Kuma-chan and hugging me hello, or any of the many times our family here has raised our glasses and in ritualized unison - beginning the night with a, “Kampai!” and a smile. This weekend was no different.

We celebrated the birthday of the much loved Cat. With a long planned BBQ in a wisteria topped park. A chance to catch up with Colin (who has been an unfortunate missing piece to my Kochi family puzzle of late), and the usual cast of Kochi City loved ones.

I started the charcoal grill, and spent the early part of the gathering tending it. Once everyone arrived and the typical amalgamation of laughter, eating, and the multitude of conversations whipped about my ears I noticed the sound of the fire cracking, onions sizzling, and meat searing. I take note of this because it is as much a part of the experience for me as my friend’s voices. The sounds of cooking. I am beginning to realize that motions and sounds of a kitchen (makeshift or fully stocked) are one of my greatest comforts in life. Perhaps it is that I have just spent a lot of time invested in learning about foods and how to make them taste good, but I like to imagine that it goes beyond my personal investment in the culinary world. To me the popping fat on fire, or the searing sound of a well caramelized piece of beef takes me back to sitting on the counter as my father prepared dinner before my mother came home from work, or perhaps to just before Thanksgiving dinner as my Grandfather exchanged stories and my grandmother pulled the turkey (golden and crisp) from the oven after a day under her watchful gaze, or perhaps . . . to any other significant meal. For me cooking amidst friends is a full sensory activity. The mind is playing in a field of friendly voices, the heat of the cook fire, the coolness of the metal tongs, the rhythmic dicing of steel edge on wooden chopping board, smells carried on steam from simmering pots, and laughter. Here in Kochi, there is always laughter.

So we ate and laughed. The sun was bright. The wind blew. I lead a life filled with so much happiness it is hard at times for me to believe that I could be so lucky. To be able to see all those memories (to be taken back home in a sense) by simply cooking is a feeling I hope to never loose. There used to be a sign above my bed that had three quotes on it. It said, “Eat good food. Clean up your mess. Be kind.” I like to think that those are three of the guiding factors in my life.

In other news: My spring garden has jumped into life, with cucumbers, edible flowers, basil, and broccoli all doing splendidly.

I baked a delicious red velvet cake that was a huge hit, and lastly I suppose I have been thinking of my grandfather a lot recently because I can’t get this line from It’s A Wonderful Life out of my head:

“Dear George, remember no man is a failure who has friends. Thanks for the wings, Love Clarence.”

More to come!

Nude

Ok folks this one’s a doozey. So; strap in, get a beverage of your choosing befitting your time zone and mood, maybe a handful of salted almonds or some other munchy nibblings, and get ready for a read.

Last weekend was perhaps the most uniquely Japanese experience I’ve had to date. Five ALTs from Kochi forged out a chapter written in the book of my life to be forever told down the family line, a story of the mysterious and strange practices - of a culture from the other side of the world, a festival for purity and luck, and more than anything else - nakedness. The festival is called the Okayama Hadaka Matsuri (Naked Man for short ).

Check the link here (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hadaka_matsuri) for some more information. I signed up with Colin, Jon, Matt, and Jamie E. long ago, and had been doing nothing but reading about it, and getting progressively more and more worried over the distinct possibility that I could be trampled in what, for lack of a more refined description, is a 9000 naked man mosh pit. Why a mosh pit? Why naked? Why WHY WHY? Well. The best way to answer that is for me to recount my tale as it was experienced.

Phase one of naked man:

Ask other JETs you know from home about things not to be missed in Japan. First time hearing about Naked Man. Upon getting an e-mail about naked man attempt to get your friends to sign up for Naked Man, because no one wants to be naked and alone.

Phase two of naked man:

Spend two to three weeks chatting with friends about various tid-bits of information filtered through various sources of how crazy it will be. Doubt your decision to attend for the first time. Listen to horror stories from other JETs about wearing a fundoshi (the Japanese sumo style loin cloth).

Phase three:

Send in payment for naked man registration.

Phase four:

The week has finally arrived, you have hotels booked, your bus tickets arranged, and a ball of anxiousness and modesty bouncing about your stomach like a spiny peach pit accidentally swallowed whole. Despite the aforementioned nervous peach pit, traveling with friends goes well. Hotel bookings work, and suddenly you are on the bus nervously sipping on a beer, and tapping your fidgety fingers as you and your Kochi friends listen to the overly consumed chants of people still lingering a bit too much in the shadow of Belushi`s interpretation of Bluto Blutarsky.

Phase five:

Arrive at the event and spend about two hours walking about familiarizing yourself with the temple layout. Listen as you are told where you will be sprinting through cold cold COLD pools of purifying water. Watch the incredible taiko group in red uniforms and feel the rattle of the drums in your chest as you chomp down a stick of yaki niku (meat on a stick). [I would like to take this time to say that out of all the many snack, junk, festival foods in Japan (and not discounting my unyielding love for all forms of takoyaki, grilled onion pancake, octopus balls of joy) there is little more satisfying than a good kabob of well peppered beef or pork a drip in its own fatty juices and sweated soy sauce.]

Phase six:

Buy the dreaded fundoshi (roll of cloth to be wrapped about one’s privates for some semblance of modesty). So now, the event is explained in full just as we are about to walk into the changing tent. Listen as you are told that you will be competing for a “magic stick”. There are approximately 20 thrown out from the sealing of the temple at 10:00 as the lights are turned out. Before that happens hoards of mostly naked men will run a loop around the temple chanting, “Wa-shoi!” as they run. You will sprint through the previously seen waist deep purification pond, then up to the main temple to pray, then through the viewing section where you will have ice water thrown at you, pray again at second temple, then sprint out and through the streets, and repeat until the officials tell you to go line up around the temple. Once there you are told that the crowed will grow slowly at first until you are crushed, unable to put your arms down, unable to turn around, and unable to have much of any say as to where you go at all for the remainder of your night. Stare blankly when you hear that the crowed will potentially sway up to seven feet. . . once again ease away the thoughts of doubt swirling about your head, after all – you already bought the loin cloth.

Phase seven:

Awkwardly undress in giant makeshift locker room. Write your name, address, and phone number on identification card to be stuffed into your loincloth. Wait naked in line with fundoshi for Japanese man to help you put on the large cloth diaper.

Phase eight:

Real in horror as you are chosen to be the first of your friends to be wrapped into the fundoshi.

Phase nine:

Receive the worst wedgy of your life. I am talking lift you off the ground, take your breath away, OH DEAR JESUS that’s not going anywhere mother have mercy.

Phase ten:

Smile with vindictive amusement as your friends all receive the same atomic wedgy from hell that you just suffered through. Now, to your astonishment, you are ready to run the course and from here on out it’s all kinda gonna happen quicker than you will believe.

So you tear off through the gates into the February chill, and there are already chanting teams of Japanese men running about. With a Kochi, Kochi, Kochi cheer you see your friend give a quick, unsure, kiss to his girl friend (the others anxiously pat one another on the back and stare wide eyed), and then your off jogging in rhythm to chants. Your feet are less offended by running essentially barefoot on cement and gravel than you thought they would be. It’s a good pace, one you could keep for hours. The crowd cheers for you all. Hands extended out for high fives from the gargantuan white men, all pale and big nosed. You get to the purity pond, and the breath goes out of you as you plunge in up to your waist. And then it’s over. Out, pray, shower of cold water from fans, pray again, out and around the temple, and repeat! Again, again, and again! Seven, eight, maybe even nine times you all run through with the coolness of the water lessening with each pass, and your chants getting more and more vivacious. The temple starts to pack in, and you want a good spot away from the steps (they are steep and made of stone. You’d hate to fall down them as the masses heave). You think . . . this isn’t too bad. It’s like a rock concert. Then another wave of runners hits, and another, and another and like the sea it flows in and then pulls back, and with each swelling of this fleshy sweaty tide it crushes you a little more till you are forced to put your arms up for fear of loosing use of them, and you stagger on tip toes to keep from falling (even though you’re wedged in so tight you couldn’t fall were you to loose your feet). You maintain eye contact with your friends, and look about wide-eyed as you hear that there is still about an hour to go before they throw the sticks. So, you stand and sway, and sweat, and watch as the steam from body heat billows out from the epicenter of this man mass. (You take a second to think . . . oh god, gross!) Then the lights go out and suddenly there are tiny bundles of sticks flying. The pressure breaks as fights and shoving matches for the single big luck (big money) stick break out, and your feel your friend poke you in the side with something small and wooden and hear him say, “I don’t know if it is the one, but help me.” Friend shoves would be magic stick in loin cloth, you push him out avoiding agitated old crotchety men gnarled like trees with whipping leathery arms. He makes it out, and you return to the fray to search for your other friends, and then . . . it’s over. You dress, hug your other friends who just watched . . . and go home to your hotel room where you shower and just think, “ well damn”.

So that was naked man. The stick that my friend Carter got was a fake one, still lucky, but not worth any money. A team of older men came away with the big luck (40,000 dollar stick). It has all the feelings of a cleanse. The sweating, the difference in temperature, the hours of physical exertion, and the fact that the whole time you are discarding any sense of modesty or self-consciousness you had (because you are birthday suiting it all through the town and PEOPLE ARE EXCITED ABOUT IT!?) The younger Japanese men give you vigorous high fives, and you even get a few hugs. There is the sense that they are as freaked out by it as you were, and that even though you never felt like you were going to die . . . you wouldn’t really want to do it again. The older generation still looks at you with skepticism a bit. Perhaps a quick smile if you were to wave, like they are saying, “yeah, you can be here, but you are never going to get that lucky stick”.

And that was that, we returned home, and I went back to work. Tonight I’ve made a Chinese style steamed fish (thanks for inspiring me Michelle Wigs this thing was delicious at Chinese new year so I’m doing it again).

My days at school are still boring, and I am still reassessing what I want my time in Japan to be like, but over all I am still having a really great time. After meeting the other, very frat boyish, JETs from other prefectures I am so happy to be in Kochi with the family dynamic we have created, but I will save that revelation and pontification for another post. I think this one’s given it all it can give. Sorry I don't have any photos of me actually at Naked Man, but the photo of the crowd should give you some idea of exactly how packed it was. Lastly cherry blossoms are starting to come out.

More to come.

Food Fest 2.0

My, oh my it’s been quite a time since we last talked. It’s a fairly standard Monday night, and I’m still trying to catch up on sleep from a lengthy and late chat with the fam. This weekend was the second weekend in a row of huge dinner parties and frisbee playing (greatly enhanced by our current warm spell here in Kochi).

All my life I’ve been a winter person. Words like humidity, heat, summer, and sweat were always enough to send this guy cowering to shaded corners and the air-conditioned spaces. Yet here in Kochi, cold seems more inescapable than it ever felt in the states. Most notably missed is the snow! Winter without snow is like Snickers without caramel and peanuts. That being said I’ve pulled out of the slump I had slouched my way into for about two weeks there. Thanks to those who suffered through my complaints of snowballing doubts about my future plans or lack there of. Work is still almost intolerably slow. I only teach one class this week because of high school entrance exams. Time to face the boredom dragon once more, this time I’m ready. RIGHT! on to specifics of my weekend, and food and plant pictures! YES!

Right, so this weekend’s food fest was a Chinese New Year’s dinner extravaganza held at Steven’s home. Steven is one of the 4 P.A.s (prefectural advisor). It was quite the orgy of starches. Noodles, green onion pancakes, more noodles, dumplings, wontons, more noodles, shark fin soup (with noodles!), and a whole fish! The biggest surprise of the night were these delicious hardboiled eggs (I believe they are called tea eggs).

GOD THEY WERE DELICIOUS, and they look like something straight out of Indian Jones and the Temple of Doom ( you know the feast part in the palace with the chilled monkey brains and eyeball soup). Speaking of eyeballs, I ate a fish eye, it was quite creamy and rich, and while I am not going to order eyeball soup any time soon it was a good experience over all.

Post feasting we all played a rousing game of pictionary as well as every summer camp game I can think of. It was fantastic (made me really miss the Kingsley Pines crowd and those legendary white sands on Panther Pond)!

I was going to include the fabled mini garden in this blog post, but in all honesty it’s 11:30 and I am fading fast. Love to all. Thanks to crew from this weekend for a fantastic dinner and day.

More to come!

Life!

Right folks! So, all of the new year`s adventuring photos are up, and to some degree described on my flickr page. (http://www.flickr.com/photos/bearsartorius/sets/ ) Do it, go check them out.

Just a little sample of what awaits at Flickr.

It`s another frosty sunny day in Susaki. I think cold is colder in Japan than I remember cold being in the States. My fingers are quicker to turn that burning redish pink and for the life of me, the tip of my nose is numb most of the day.

I`ve been getting in touch with my inner wanna-be chef (You know? the career goal from way back in the high school dream days.) My mom forwarded me the blog of an ex baby sitter from my childhood, and I must say that Mrs. Heather`s writing, talk of gardening, and push for more more more homemade food has me all sparked up. (check out her page, seriously it`s a great read, http://heatergirlie.blogspot.com/ ). I have been plundering great recipes from her page for many days now. The pickled onions she recommends are fantastic (the recipe calls for red onions, but they are crazy more expensive for some unknown reason in my supermarket so instead golden onions were used) and then there were the Green Potatoes from Laurel's Kitchen.

Green potatoes and pickled onions

Lastly there was home made tortilla's and persimmon salsa with chicken and peppers! For all you devout followers out there, mexican food is near impossible to find in any form here in Kochi (hell I'm fairly safe saying in Japan). So, discovering a method of making tortillas from scratch was one of the most satisfying achievements imaginable.

Ultimate craving destructor.

Lastly, it's a grand hour and thirteen minutes until I turn 24. One might think that next to Christmas your birthday would be the time when someone working and living abroad would most miss their family and friends. However! I have already been sent this!

And tomorrow I'm off right after work to spend another weekend with the Benson. Promises of post birthday baking (Heather I may have borrowed your chocolate chip whiskey bunt cake recipe), and a gathering of the Kochi Christmas crowd plus frisbee team friends means I've got high hopes for a birthday filled with bliss.

As always more to come!