Sons of Loki

June’s just flown by in a blur of routine. Indeed, there’s nothing like routine to make the days just fly by, is there? I wake up, go to lesson, get back, learn two chapters of Kanji in Context (I’ll hopefully have done all the ones on the official government-mandated “jouyou kanji” list by the time we leave … at least, all the old jouyou kanji), hit the flashcards for a bit, eat, go to the gym and do some weights and some pretty intensive stationary biking (stationary bikes are ace! You can exercise and read/do flashcards/listen to music/watch TV at the same time! Thinking of buying one next year), get back to my room, watch The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya with jury-rigged Japanese subtitles (excellent combined reading/listening practice), then if I’m feeling good, read a bit of Yotsuba or else switch my brain off and play Fallout 2. Then it’s time for bed.

Did I mention I passed? Yeah, that big ass Leeds exam. Obviously, I didn’t get a great mark – well, not even a good one – but it doesn’t bother me now. I am a changed man! I study most of the time. I’ve started using Khatzumoto’s 10,000 sentences method, wherein you find interesting and useful sentences in films/books/manga/daily life, pop them into an SRS flashcard system, and drill them daily until they are burned into the fabric of your brain. It seems to be starting to pay off, or at least I think it is.

Yesterday I went for a bit of a wander for no particular reason; starting in Ebisu, then walking through the quietly upmarket neighbourhoods of Shibuya towards Roppongi Hills and an iced tea outside Starbucks, overhearing a conversation in Australian next to me about how hot it was (and boy, it’s been 31°C – and humid).

Today, though, I went back to Nakano, a place just west of Shinjuku which I used to visit all the time when I lived here two years ago (shit, two and a half years ago. Nearly three years ago). I used to visit the Working Holiday Office there in hopes of finding teaching work (of course, when I arrived in 2007 it was literally mere days after the gigantic NOVA English school imploded, throwing thousands of desperate, highly-qualified, and suddenly unemployed English teachers out on to the streets of Japan, so work was practically non-existent). I’d also hit the Nakano Broadway nearby, because it had a handful of hobby shops and PC stores. And I honestly couldn’t remember why I used to trek halfway across the city when I had Akihabara practically on my doorstep, but wandering around the Broadway mall today, I was suffused with nostalgia, revisiting shops I hadn’t been to in two and a half years. I found the PC store where I bought a keyboard for some reason – and in ultimate proof that everything comes full circle, I bought almost exactly the same model of no-name Chinese-made 500 yen keyboard (the W and S and backspace on my laptop keyboard have stopped working and I stripped the fucking screw! so I can’t replace it until I get home and maybe try some specialist equipment).

There’s all these nice little indie stores – the main store of manga and doujin specialists Mandarake; a store full of weird old books (including Philip K Dick in translation, which I was tempted to buy until I realised that reading VALIS in Japanese would actually give me a brain haemorrhage); a shop selling model railway carriages and model railway carriages only, clearly a labour of love for the glasses-wearing owner (I like to think he worked as a salaryman for decades before deciding to throw it all away and pursue his dream of starting a shop selling sixty-two types of rolling stock); low ceilings, narrow corridors, and a sense of comfort.

So I was thinking: what good manga have I been reading?

I always thought manga would be a great way to study Japanese: unlike novels you’ve got pictures to help you, and it teaches you real-world, colloquial speech rather than textbook phonyism. (If you’re looking for a good textbook that teaches with manga, I strongly recommend Japanese the Manga Way.)

But when I got here, I found it didn’t really help. People told me to read this, and read that, and I picked up a issue or two of Shonen Jump!, but none of it really engaged me. Was manga not the solution after all? Was I doomed to poring through textbooks to learn?

Not so! My mistake was simple: I was reading the manga people told me to read, not the manga I wanted to read. Ironically, the manga that turned it all around was one my friend Darlo recommended to me.
Yotsuba&! (2003-present) (よつばと！, “Yotsuba and…!”) is a slice of life, the daily adventures of a small girl, her adoptive father, “uncle” Jumbo, the family next door, and … that’s about it.

Only it’s a remarkably good manga to start learning Japanese with. The language is simple, everyday and colloquial; because Yotsuba is a pre-schooler, she doesn’t use kanji, she uses simple grammar constructions, and like any small child is always asking questions and stating the obvious. “What’s that?” “What does “global warming” mean?” “It’s a car!” “Wow! Fish!” So throughout the story, you have explanations of words like “air conditioning” and naming of animals and things and people, all for the benefit of Yotsuba but also benefiting Japanese learners. It’s perfect.

But most importantly, it’s a damn fine manga. It’s sweet and sad and funny all at the same time. The author, Kiyohiko Azuma, showed a remarkable knack for making everyday things seem incredibly poignant and moving in his previous work Azumanga Daioh, and he continues this in Yotsuba. She’s incredibly cute and lovely, but there’s always this bittersweet sense of childhood running through his work; a sense of transcendental, transient beauty that can’t last forever, so be sure to enjoy it when it comes.

Planetes (1994-2004) (プラネテス, from Ancient Greek ΠΛΑΝΗΤΕΣ “wanderers”) I’ve already written about, but it deserves repeating. I heard about it because of the fact that it was a rigorously researched, scientifically accurate portrayal of life in space, and when I finally found a copy of the first volume I wasn’t disappointed.

It’s beautifully drawn; Makoto Yukimura captures the emptiness and loneliness of tiny human figures hanging in the void of space, and the ship interiors are amazingly intricate. The cast are a ragtag, international band of astronauts all suitably messed up with their own secrets and reasons for doing the dull, hazardous job of Earth-orbit space debris clean-up, and there’s a cool Firefly-like vibe going on of all these different personalities coming together. It’s tough reading; with no furigana and complex kanji, it’s full of technical terms about air pressure and orbital mechanics, and it’s all stuff you certainly won’t learn in class, but that’s exactly why you should read it.

Kachō Shima Kōsaku (1983-1992) (課長島耕作 “Section Chief Kōsaku Shima”) is actually the first in a long-running series that charts the career of salaryman Kosaku Shima from humble section chief at Hatsushiba Electric to boss of the company. (I believe it’s one of the manga in Japanese the Manga Way).
I kind of wanted to buy it half as an ironic joke – I mean, a manga about a salaryman? What’s the plot: one day he falls over on the train when commuting? Takeshi from Accounting keeps drinking all the coffee? – but I found the first volume of Young Shima Kosaku (which is in fact a prequel that began in 2001) and it’s actually, in a surreally dull way, very fun. Shima is a salaryman with a heart of gold; he bumbles around being berated by his superiors but having his ass saved by their superiors, who presumably see something in young Shima-kun. He speaks up about one of Hatsushiba’s stores dumping old TVs in the river! He feels bad about letting down old people! He nearly has an affair with the boss’s mistress! (And when I say nearly, I mean he takes her home when she gets drunk, she comes on to him, and Shima is already half out of the door in panic when he runs into his boss coming home, makes his excuses and escapes. So, ‘nearly has an affair’ in a uniquely lame way.)
But I like it. I like Shima-kun, he who cannot get anything right. The language used is more immediately useful than Planetes‘s, obviously, and it’s a fascinating look into the hidden world of the salaryman and Japan’s social norms.
Look at him. Look how happy he seems. He’s actually jumping for joy at the possibility of working in a small cubicle for the entirety of the rest of his life! It’s hilarious and terribly sad at the same time, like when a clown dies.

Well, I’ll say this for capsule hotel beds; when you wake up, you don’t want to go back to sleep. Either this means that they do a great job of refreshing and rejuvenating you with a good night’s sleep, or that they’re not exactly the height of luxury. The truth’s probably somewhere in between. Anyway, it’s a clever design. When you have to wake up for that 9am meeting, you don’t want to be distracted by a big, comfortable bed.

Yesterday we toured Hakone properly. It was still a little chilly, and a thick, thick fog descended on Owakudani and made the ropeway ride up to the top of the mountain an extraordinarily surreal experience of floating without motion inside a cable car surrounded by a perfectly white sphere thirty metres across:

like that episode of Evangelion where Shinji winds up in the empty void inside the Dirac sea and has a mental breakdown where he encounters the spirit of his dead mother which now inhabits the freakish artificial human fighting machine Evangelion (and who unbeknownst to him was cloned as his fellow Evangelion pilot Rei in a bid to accelerate the final evolution of manki- oh I’m getting carried away with myself).

Speaking of Evangelion, I got the coolest, nerdiest thing ever. I saw they had this map up in the guesthouse, and I asked the receptionist Yuuka if they were available, and after filling out a little form I got my hands on one. (She said they were pretty limited edition; only four places in Japan distributed them.) It’s a map of Hakone collated with the various events of Evangelion, from when Misato meets Shinji at Hakone-Yumoto station to the place where they shoot the big angry diamond thingy in episode three(?). And the pampas grass field I wandered through on my first visit to Hakone and thought “hey, this is just like the field Kensuke plays in in episode four!” turns out to be the actual filming location! Or, er, inspiration for the animators.

So we saw Hakone, went to get our luggage back from the hotel, said our final farewells and caught the bus to Odawara before getting a HIKARI shinkansen to Osaka. Oh, man, the shinkansen. When the first Nozomi superexpress shinkansen burst past with a roar, I nearly shed a tear from sheer … train awesomeness.

And then we got to ride it! Scenery flashed past in the night. I bought a beer. A small child looked at me and I smiled and he smiled. We were both thinking “THIS TRAIN IS SO COOL”. (I have a new admiration for Japanese youngsters after reading Yotsuba&. I want to ruffle their hair and call them ojouchan or obocchan and buy them an ice cream.)

The first thing you notice in Osaka – and it’s seriously jarring for a while – is that people stand on the right on escalators! Also, they’re just so much more happier. They stand in groups on the subway, chatting and laughing and looking happy to be alive, whereas in Tokyo everybody just looks like they want to die. Osaka does indeed have a different feel about it; more leisurely, a little grubbier, but a little happier. The girls aren’t prettier, but they’re more attractive, if you get me.

We found a little izakaya and my gosh, it was the best I’ve ever been to. Lush yakisoba, delicious omerice, and gigantic tankards of Asahi.

Katie and Chris are staying in a proper nice hotel called the Brighton, which is all dark woods and glossy floors and polite staff. I’m in the Capsule Hotel Asahiplaza, which is all 70s carpets and PVC mouldings.

Now I’ve never been to a proper capsule hotel before. I stayed in one in Kyoto in 2007 (last option) but it wasn’t really a proper capsule hotel; more a regular hotel with capsules instead of beds. (For example, I had an entire sizable hotel room, which just happened to have two capsules instead of a proper bed.) Consequently, I kind of screwed up when I got here, the Capsule Hotel Asahiplaza. It wasn’t too hard to find, a 10 minute walk from Shinsaibashi (think I’ve got the hang of Osaka’s subway system which is, in the end, just the same as any other subway system) and I seem to be living in Osaka’s party district, which is exciting. I checked in (I was a little worried about being late but hey, it’s a capsule hotel) and went straight up to my “room”, which was my first mistake. The capsule is entirely for eating, sleeping, and maybe watching a little TV. A proper straight-up capsule, too; the second floor is laid out like the cryogenic freezing hold in some futuristic SF starliner, the walls painted with things like “SECTION C 200-220″ in massive letters, each chamber arranged with two double-decker rows of capsules. You go in. You switch the light on. You sleep.

But I brought all my stuff up there, and then realised that capsules don’t lock, so I went downstairs and found the locker room, which should have been my first port of call. Anyway, I dumped my stuff in the locker and changed into the brown pyjamas which give this place wonderfully cultish overtones, and then headed for a walk around. (I never feel comfortable in a place, especially not a hotel, unless I’ve explored every nook and cranny for interesting things.)

It’s kind of like a miniature version of my beloved Dragon Hill Spa jjimjilbang in Seoul, or perhaps an alternative version of a manga café for more sensible people. There’s lounge chairs, and TVs, and arcade games, and mah-jong; vending machines and a tiny canteen; and a sizable sentou bath area with a hot and cold pool, a jacuzzi, and a 92C sauna (phew!). I don’t think there’s internet (must investigate further) but you can charge your phone and stuff downstairs, for 100 yen. The place is populated by a) salarymans, who can be found in the locker room putting on white shirts and meticulously applying hair tonic and b) a couple of noisy foreigners like myself.

So I got a decent night’s sleep and checked out (I don’t think you can leave your bags there or anything) and went back to the Brighton to start our first proper day exploring Osaka.

We visited the castle, the most popular tourist attraction in Japan (possibly because there’s nothing else to see in Osaka, as the guidebook jests). It was pretty cool, set in a big park with lots of tourists, Osaka’s famous takoyaki, and some pretty sakura. I met a Korean couple and the man, after I impressed him with an “anyeong haseyo!”, turned out to have gone to Chung-Ang University, my summer school alumni! Small world. Also, a bunch of people looking remarkably like the Fleet Foxes walked past.

After that I was thinking about buying a new backpack, so I tried to find a branch of Don Kihote, which led us to the Umeda Sky Building. (On the way one of Osaka’s 1.6 million traffic policemen guided us with a “kocchi! kocchi!” and I replied with a stumbled “kocchi? hai, hai” which warranted a “nihongo jozu!“. People are definitely friendlier.

The Don Kihote turned out to be a cafe of the same name, so we went back to the station area and I got a very nice rucksack for 1,600 and then a plate of curry from a nearby curry house. And the owner was so friendly! People are nice here. Later, we wandered about south of the station, and I had a round of Guitar Freaks at an arcade, steadfastedly ignoring the bemania gods on Beatmania IIDX and the newest DrumMania. (ughh I really want to get DrumMania. I should have snapped it up when I saw it in that weird charity shop in Kichijoji that I will never ever find again)


After that, there wasn’t much left to do, so we headed back to the Brighton so I could use the internet and charge my various mobile devices. Now I have a 30 minute walk back to my coffin in the Asahiplaza, which I wouldn’t be looking forward to if not for the hot bath. Ahh, keep your dark woods and marble floors, I’ve got a jacuzzi.

You know, after just 136 days here, I’m really starting to settle in. This is my new set up – surrounded by grammar, highlighters, Scarlett Johansson, and motivational quotes. I quite like it like this.

I also worked out how to network my PC to my PS3 to show movies on the television and how to wire my PS3′s AV cables to my PC to play sound from the PS3 through the PC and out the speakers, which is a stupidly roundabout thing to do (it would make a lot more sense to just output my PC to the TV with a cheap cable) but it works, and it cost me not a penny extra. And that’s why I love being able to screw around with stuff until it does something new.

Final exam next Tuesday, and I’m sort of confident that last-minute cramming will be sufficient to pass. I mean, if I get a C, that means doing 300 again, but … actually that would be shit, but I’d be happy to pass.
Everything’s still up in the air, and I’m really bipolar about how I feel about this course. Right now, I really want to do my best (hence the Eminem quote: “Success is the only motherfuckin’ option // Failure’s not”). Tomorrow, I might stub my toe (linguistically speaking) and hate this stupid language and want to give up. But ultimately, I think that I’m bending towards sticking to this, to seeing it through to the end. Ultimately I feel like if I failed, I’d be letting my friends down more than anything. And I don’t want to do that.

Tonight I went back to Mickey House, my old haunt from when I lived in Tokyo in 2007 (good lord, did that really happen?). I went with my mate Kazuya, who was an exchange student at Leeds last year (it was only after he’d gone back to Japan that we realised we were both Mickey House regulars because I realised he’d joined the same Facebook group).

It hadn’t changed a bit, of course. Same nondescript entrance, a lift off the main street in Takadanobaba. Same old Kazu, who didn’t remember me, of course. Same delicious Kirin Ichiban. A few potentially familiar faces – I wasn’t sure. The place was more popular than ever before, heaving with not just English but Spanish, French, and German conversations. Kazu wandered about in the same way he always did, back in the day. The place hadn’t changed a bit. I hadn’t changed a bit.

I spent a few hours there, chatting in a mix of English and Japanese to whoever wandered in and sat at our table. Same old mix of ordinary-looking people who were all quite extraordinary in their own little way – he’s just come back from living in the US for five years, she climbed Fuji and joined a British car firm, her dad was a political prisoner in the last century.

I was speaking to this Chinese woman – well, I was listening to this Chinese woman who was – well. Mainlander Chinese are always a little weird to talk to; despite the opening up of the PRC in the last few decades, there’s still a weird sense of Orwellian doublethink going on. They are, generally speaking, still a world apart from the Western freedoms we take for granted; happy to accept the hand-waving of their government, and turn a blind eye to everything that they must know is going on in their country.
Refreshingly, this woman seemed to be very angry about something, though I wasn’t sure exactly what. I think she was actually unhappy with the government, which is obviously the norm for Westerners but rare from the Chinese people I’ve met. (To be fair, I’ve met very few Chinese people.) At the same time, she had that streak of Chinese nationalism which is so quintessentially Chinese, but even when ranting about those Yankee pigs and their Japanese lapdogs (okay it wasn’t quite that bad) she seemed quite bothered that China’s industrial development and marathon race towards global superpower was coming at the expense of so much in her country. It was, as I said, refreshing.

Back during the Beijing Olympics, I said that 2008 would be the year that China’s dominance of the world began, and I stand by that. It is, as the Chinese say, interesting times right now. Particularly for the West.

Leaving was bittersweet, a little weird. It had been nice to go back, and the Japanese practice was like sweet water for a parched throat, but the problem I always have with those kinds of places is that I rarely have anything in common with anybody. It’s a shame, really. I wandered down the main street, past bars and restaurants and groups of people, taking in the neon beauty of the ukiyo, the floating world.

Ah, the night, friend of Tom Waits, Edward Hopper, Richard Hawley. I popped into an all-night bookstore and bought the first volumes of Crows and Yotsuba-to. (All-night bookstore. Somehow, everything is cooler, more romantic at night.)