Life After JET.

It has been approximately 73 days and 21 hours since I permanently left Japan. That is 2 months and 12 days since I entered the immigration office at Narita International Airport, signed a form that said I was denouncing my Japanese residency, and had a hole punched into my gaijin card. Since I hopped on a flight to Denver, connected to Montreal, and after a week of sightseeing, finally managed to find myself home. In my parents' house. In Saint John, New Brunswick, Canada.

From the beginning.

I will admit, I was not surprised to find myself there. After all, it had been my plan to stay (not live, but stay) with my parents for a few months until I had a job and enough money to move into my own apartment. Then, I was going to continue working for the year while applying to graduate schools and building up a portfolio that simply screamed "Accept me!". Because of this, I can't say I was shocked when I was unpacking my clothing into my younger brother's old closet, or when I was buying odds and ends for an apartment I hoped I would eventually have.

No, I wasn't shocked. But I was disappointed. Disappointed in myself for having gone from a well paying job in a foreign country to living with my parents, unemployed and mooching food and gas money. Disappointed for having gone from having adventures every weekend to being in a city where all my friends had moved on to bigger and better things. I wouldn't say I was depressed, but I certainly wasn't very happy with myself.

However, I had a job interview as soon as I got home, and quickly managed to find a job doing something I absolutely loved: working at an after school programme for elementary school kids and coaching gymnastics. I threw myself into my job and gained happiness from there. I gained new friends where I lacked old ones, and I started re-exploring my city. "Saint John isn't so bad after all," I started to think as I got excited for another shift or to check out a new restaurant uptown with a friend.

See? Not so bad!

Don't get me wrong, things are still very weird here. Every time I open my fridge, I'm shocked at how much space there is. I managed to fill my tiny Japanese fridge with enough food for myself, but here it is difficult to do so. My mother makes fun of me every time she comes over for not having any food, but honestly, it just looks that way. In fact, I am amazed at the size of all the appliances. My washer and dryer (oh yes, I have one of those again) are huge, able to do twice the amount of laundry as their Japanese counterparts.

My tiny Japanese washing machine

The weirdness also extends to my interactions with people. I still have to resist the urge to point out "foreigners", even though they make up 98% of the population of Saint John. I still say "sumimasen" and "gomennasai" when I run into people on the streets, prompting some strange looks from passers by.  I still feel the need to follow around the three Asian people in my city, trying to find out whether they are Japanese. They never are.

In short, I feel a bit out of sorts. I'm beginning to feel a bit more comfortable here, but I still don't really feel like I belong in my hometown. Hopefully, as time passes, the nostalgia for Japan will settle and I will become normal again. If you've met me, however, you know that that's never going to happen. I will never be normal, nor do I want to be. Japan was a major part of my life, and hopefully I will integrate these two facets and create a better whole. Here's to "ganbaru"ing it up!

I miss Japanese food.

Redefining Success: Still Making Mistakes

Hi, as you all know, my name is Jeri, and I am a 22 year old aspiring writer. When I was chosen to review W. Brett Wilson’s book, Redefining Success- Still Making Mistakes, on my blog, I couldn’t have been more excited. Honestly, I was a little surprised that he picked my tiny little blog out of the group of applications that he received. In fact, I was so excited that I didn’t think about the possibility that his book might not be meant for people like me. I waited and waited, eventually received the copies that were sent to me, and set about reading it. It became apparent early on that I was not his target audience, but I plowed through it nonetheless. I read and read, and when I finally got to the end, I realized that although the book was not meant for me, there were a variety of points and lessons that I could take from it regardless.

For those of you who don’t own a television, W. Brett Wilson was one of the Dragons on the CBC version of the television show Dragon’s Den. On this show, budding entrepreneurs pitch their ideas to a number of well-established businesspeople, the “dragons”, who then decide whether to accept or reject their pitch. From the start, Brett Wilson was known as the generous Dragon, and he accepted more proposals than anybody else, often based more on a gut instinct for the person than the pitch itself. He is an established entrepreneur, having founded various successful companies, and philanthropist, having given millions away to various charities and organizations. He has battled workaholism, cancer and divorce and come out of it a better person. Basically, he is a great guy.

Redefining Success is a collection of stories and recollections from his life, combined with advice as to how others can live a more successful life themselves. He discusses his early life and how he started out, and then moved on to the decisions that made him successful. Then, he talks about the dark period in his life, where he realized that there was more to life than material success. Unfortunately, he was too late to save his marriage, but he improved his health and redefined his life to fit with a new set of priorities, which he mentions in another chapter. Of course, no book of his would be complete without mention of the deals he made on Dragon’s Den, so he devotes an entire chapter to those. He goes on to reminisce about his philanthropic ventures and offer suggestions as to how we can all give more back to the world we live in. Finally, he concludes his autobiography with a series of lists that concisely recount the main points he attempted to drive home.

I’m going to be honest, when I started reading Redefining Success, I didn’t actually expect to like it. I am not a big fan of autobiographies or self-help books, because I find that they are repetitive and cliche. I will admit, this book had some of those elements. I was a little confused as to why every chapter started with a photo of W. Brett Wilson in a different pose, accompanied by an artsy bit of text. To me, that addition seemed a little self-indulgent. Also, Redefining Success has the same problem that many self-help books seem to have. It was quite repetitive. I found myself skipping over parts, thinking that I had already read this information two or three times. I understand that for something to stick in your brain, it needs to be mentioned more than once in a different way, but I never felt like the points were made in an innovative way. Finally, the last thing that bothered me was the large amount of name-dropping. I didn’t know the names of most of the people that were mentioned in the book, and frankly, I didn’t really want to. I’m sure I feel the same way as most of the popular audience. These names don’t mean anything to regular people, and to me it just felt like another attempt to seem impressive.

On the other hand, there were a number of things that the book did quite well. On the small side, one of the chapters started with a Harry Potter quote, which pulled me in from the beginning and made me relate to the author a bit more. It is the little things that count when one is trying to be relatable, and the idea that this millionaire sat down, read Harry Potter, and thought that the quote was relevant enough to put in his autobiography really made me connect with him a bit more. Also, the chapters on creative philanthropy were very unique and introduced ideas to me that I had never previously thought about. The best part was that I felt I could apply them to my own life, even though my life is completely different than his. He advocates throwing parties or events and instead of a gift, telling everyone to bring a cheque to a charity of his choice. This is something I would have never thought of, but it is such a brilliant concept. Finally, I absolutely loved the conclusion. I am a very organized person who lives for lists, and the idea of summing everything up in a collection of lists really resonated with me. It was simple, concise, and easy to read. Well done, W. Brett Wilson. Well done.

Overall, I wouldn’t say that the book was meant for people like me. Its market is more entrepreneurs and older adults who can connect with his life more easily. However, even though it wouldn’t be my first pick for winter literature, it was easy to read and there were many points made that were directly relevant to my own life. I would recommend reading Redefining Success if you have watched the TV show, if you want to know more about W. Brett Wilson’s life, or if you are looking for ways to tweak your life for the better. 

Another reason to read this book is if you win it, of course! I have a signed copy of the book that I’m looking to give away to anyone who made it all the way through my review. In order to win, post a comment on the review with your thoughts and email me at prettymuchpremium@gmail.com! I will choose a comment at random and get the book out to you as soon as we get in touch!

Looking forward to reading some awesome comments!

Jeri

Wish List 2012

Dear Santa,

How are you this year? How is Mrs. Claus? I hope you're doing her right and smothering her with the love and affection that she deserves as a woman. She doesn't make those cookies for free, you know! And how is Rudolph? How are the other reindeer? It gets quite cold in the North Pole, so I hope that you are housing them and feeding them in accordance with animal welfare laws. Are there laws in the North Pole? Is there a government? Who do you pay your taxes to?

No matter. This year I've been a very good girl. I've tried very hard to make everyone I love happy, and I hope that you've been able to see that. I'm not asking for much this year, but these are some of the things that I might like:

1. A new coffee table. Or an old one. It doesn't matter much. Right now, I am using the floor in front of my couch for my coffee cups, and it is very un-feng shui. A light wood would be best so it matches the rest of my furniture. Thanks!

2. A bookcase. Also made of light wood. I read a lot, and my current bookcase is overflowing with books and DVDs. Also, my DVDs are currently on my desk, and my cat knocks them down every five minutes. It is tiring, and that is energy I could better devote to being a better person.

3. A rug with cool patterns. My floor looks kind of bare right now and rugs are groovy.

4. Really comfy slippers and wool socks- My floor is also kind of cold and my feet very much enjoy being warm and surrounded by cozy things.

5. A toaster. I am currently borrowing my neighbours, and even though he is the nicest person in the world, I would like to be able to toast bagels without depending on anyone else's goodwill.

6. A blender. I want to be able to make delicious smoothies and sauces without having to strain my arm muscles. Also it will look super hip on my counter. It could also be used as a sort of eclectic decoration.

7. A new Kobo. I have been having anxiety attacks ever since I broke my first one. It's not that they aren't sturdy, it's just that they don't take well to being entirely submerged in orange juice, even if you place them in a bag of rice immediately afterwards. Now, I have all these books that I can't read, and I'd like to be able to.

8. A queen-sized memory foam mattress pad. I got my bed for free from my brother, who got it for free from someone random. I am very appreciative, but it is not very comfy. I think a mattress pad might fix the matter, and I am hoping to no longer feel the springs in my back every time I try to go to sleep.

9. A cat kennel. My cat needs a way to be taken to the vet. Preferably hard cased, since she is currently kicking and screaming and scratching and biting every time she gets taken out.

10. Coffee mugs. At current, I only have two, which gets to be tricky if I ever invite more than one person over for coffee or tea. Since I enjoy both coffee and tea, I would like some more mugs. Preferably pretty ones.

11. Mario Kart for Wii. I don't even need to explain this one.

12. Board Games. I love a good board game. I'm looking for Cranium, Settlers of Catan, Pictionary, anything else that you think is SUPER DUPER FUN.

13. Wine glasses. I know, Santa. I'm sorry. But sometimes I like to have a drink. Or four. And it is a lot less tacky when you are drinking wine from real wine glasses as opposed to the two mugs I mentioned earlier.

14. A cocktail shaker. If I'm going to drink, I might as well be classy about it!

15. An emergency kit for my car. I don't want to die this winter, and I love my Bug, but I'm not sure that it will never break down. Please keep me alive this christmas!

16. Money towards the "Help Jeri Go to Greece" fund. Because I want to go to Greece. And I need your help in getting there.

17. Last but not least, I want this awesome travel thermos:
https://store.lettersandlight.org/merchandise/nanowrimo-nutritional-facts-thermos

Anyway, I know that seems like I'm asking for a lot, Santa, but I'd just like to give you a lot of things to choose from. The thing is that I just moved into my new apartment, and I can't really afford to furnish it right now.

Please write back at your earliest convience.

Jeri.

P.S. If you give me a lump of coal, I will be a sad panda.

NaNoWriMo

Hey people!

Once again, I have been neglecting the blog this month because it is the time of the year where I attempt to write a novel in only 30 days. NaNoWriMo. The month is almost finished, and my book is coming along quite well, so I figured I'd share a bit of it with you!

In all its glory, here is the prologue:

September, 1990. La Khongkhed, Laos.

Thala turned her head to look behind her, the wind whipping her long black hair in front of her as she climbed. She knew nobody was following her, and that she probably wouldn’t be missed, but she couldn’t help but nervously glance back every five seconds anyway. She continued to climb the mountain, trying her best to keep her stomach from hitting the rocks. 

She was almost there. Just a few more steps and she would reach the top of the hill. Just a few more steps and she would see the tip of the temple start to appear. As she climbed, she saw what she was looking for. The bright gold of the temple roof sparkled amongst the lush green backdrop. If it had been made of anything else, it surely would have been invisible amongst the greenery. As it was, however, the temple was a startling sight. With a gold roof, multicoloured glass walls, and intricate patterns carved into the surface, the temple was modest in comparison to others, but held just the right amount of respect for the spiritual path of Buddhists.

Thala took one final step and heaved herself over the ledge, taking care to land on her side and protect her unborn child from harm. She stood up and took a moment to wipe the sweat from her forehead. The air was still cool, but very humid. It felt like a blanket, instantly enveloping her in moisture as soon as she tried to do anything. She was tired, but she had come all this way, she might as well try. With that thought in her mind, she walked towards the temple, took off her shoes and lined them up in front of the entrance, and walked through the only door.

The inside of the temple was small, but well-decorated. In keeping with the Theravada style of Buddhism, the walls were intricately carved and decorated with stories of Buddha’s birth, growth, death and reincarnation. There was incense ready and waiting to be lit, and a large statue of Buddha sitting in the middle of the room. His eyes were closed, his palms facing upwards. He was at peace. “It must be nice for him,” Thala thought to herself, looking around. She had heard of the temple on top of the hill, but she had never been up here before. As a practising Buddhist, it wasn’t that she wasn’t allowed, but that whenever she wanted to pray, she just went to the wat in town. It was easy and convenient for her, just a couple of blocks away from her family’s farm. This one was reserved for men, mostly. People who could leave the town for a full day, since that is how long it took to climb all the way up. She had started at dark, walked through sunrise, and climbed for a few more hours. Finally, she had arrived.

Thala took her time, looking around and exploring before starting what she came up there to do. When she had finished looking around, she went back to the front, lit a piece of incense, and placed in the holder. She knelt in front of the statue, closed her eyes and bowed her head. “Clear your mind,” she reminded herself. “Only then will you achieve enlightenment”. She thought of the colour white. She thought of silence and stillness. She tried to think of nothing. She had never been good at the prayer and mediation part of her religion. She swatted at a fly that was buzzing around her head. Maybe it was time to change strategies. Maybe it was time to focus her attention on one thing, rather than trying to think of nothing. 

She thought. Her thoughts drifted all the way to the very beginning.

Thala had grown up in the small town of La Khongkhed, in Laos. In fact, the temple on the hill was the furthest she’d ever been from her little town, other than small trips to nearby farms to pick up vegetables. The town was quiet, peaceful. She wasn’t well off by any stretch, but then again, no one there was. They were equals, poor but self-sufficient. She went to a small elementary school, where she sat on the floor and shared a single book with the rest of the class, but she got an education. When she turned ten, she started to work for her family, tending to the small garden they owned, cooking meals for her parents, brothers and sisters. By fourteen, her family had found her someone to marry, a boy of sixteen from a town nearby. His name was Khamtai, and he was everything she wanted in a husband. He was kind, strong, brave, and he had a good name in the community. He was only sixteen, but he was already working  on his father’s rice farm. It was a family business, and one that made a decent amount of money. 

She fell in love with him instantly. They spent time together, talking about their future. They went for walks and frequented local festivals together. Even though it wasn’t official, it was only a matter of time before he would ask her to marry him. She knew it. And she was right. Soon enough, the families were discussing the bride-price. They went back and forth, and back and forth with gifts and alcohol, until they finally decided on the price. Then, they set the wedding date. The town elders were consulted, and everything was prepared, until soon enough, the time came. The evening before, Thala got together with her family and close friends at her house. Her mother rushed around the house, preparing the marital bed as was custom. Her aunts and grandmother were also bustling about, preparing enough food for the entire ceremony, including the pha kouen, banana leaves with marigold, a wedding specialty. Thala sat in the corner, unable to help for fear of where her life was going from then on. She didn’t know what the future would bring, but she was excited to spend it with Khamtai. She knew he would be good to her. 

The next day, the wedding had begun. She awoke from her bed by her mother shaking her at an unreasonable hour. “We have to get ready,” she whispered excitedly. “Khamtai’s family will be here in just a few hours!”

Thala awoke and groggily let herself get washed. Afterwards, she got dressed up in a sinh, a traditional Lao skirt, and adorned herself with mountains of jewellery. Finally, she tied up her beautiful long black hair with the traditional ribbon on top of her head. All of a sudden, she heard a knock on the door. Her mother ran to answer it.

“Hello, my name is Khamtai Phouma, and I am here to offer you money, a cow, two goats and ten buckets of rice, so that I may live with your daughter.” Khamtai still looked like a boy dressed up as a man. His formal attire was a little too baggy, and his short black hair still looked like he hadn’t combed it down. His mother smiled, accepting his offer, and he left to join his groom’s group. They all came back shortly after, smiling and laughing with each other, playing musical instruments and singing. Thala waited and waited as Khamtai talked and drank with her parents, answered their questions and had his feet washed. It seemed like it was taking forever, and she thought she might die of anticipation. Just when she could no longer bear it, she was finally called into the room to sit next to her groom. After a short ceremony, attended by all their relatives, they were finally led off to their marital room. 

Thala remembered hearing her relatives long into the night, drunk on homemade alcohol and delirious with happiness, as she laid beside Khamtai for the first time, unsure of what to do or how to do it. She didn’t have to worry though, because he was slow and gentle. That was the night that her child was conceived.

Things started to settle after that. She built a life with Khamtai out of her parents’ house. She tended to the house, washing the vegetables and learning from her mother how to cook and be a good wife. With a baby on the way, she also started making preparations for birth. Eight months passed more quickly than she could have ever anticipated, and she found herself nervous and anxious about the addition of a new life to their family. She had enough for herself and her husband, but they couldn’t afford to travel all the way to the next city to visit a doctor. She had no idea whether her baby was healthy, but she had a feeling that with all the kicking it had been doing, it was bound to be alive and well. It would probably be feisty, too. That didn’t really come as a surprise, given how headstrong Thala’s parents always said she was. 

Thala was due any day now. She was getting more and more nervous with every day that passed, until yesterday, she couldn’t bear it any longer. She had to do something. That was when she decided to come up to this temple for the first time. She crawled into bed with Khamtai, feigning sleep long enough to hear his snores, then silently crept out of bed, dressed herself, and tiptoed to the kitchen. She threw a few things into a small cloth bag, and crept out of the house, taking care to walk silently until she was certain that nobody from home could hear her. She walked down the main road for miles, not stopping until she could no longer see any lights. She wasn’t worried. Even though she had never been to the temple before, she had walked this street enough that she knew where the turn-off was. It was then that she started to falter. She stumbled a bit on the turn, and decided to use the time to rest for a little bit. She pulled a candle and a match out of her bag, lit the candle, and waited, using the faint light to observe her new surroundings. She was surrounded by thick green plants and shrubbery, but she could barely make out the beginnings of a path that she knew was there.

She picked up her candle, and started to follow the path. She hiked and climbed for two more hours, until she saw the sun starting to rise. That was when she had found herself here, at the temple. She was still kneeling, head bowed, eyes closed. She finished reminiscing and began to pray.

“Please bless me and my unborn son or daughter. I don’t want much, just let us be well fed and have enough to get by. Please bring money and prosperity to our town, so that we can build a livelihood for our new family. Who knows how many children there will be after this one. Please allow my child to be healthy and grow up strong and safe. Please bless them. with opportunity to move up in this world and achieve things I never did. Please give them an education. Please give us love and happiness.” Thala wasn’t exactly sure how to end these things. While she’d been to the wat before, she had never made a prayer for herself. She finished by leaving a small donation in the box, 1,000 kip, and putting out the incense. She stood up and walked out, taking one last look at the giant golden Buddha before closing the door behind her. It was still early and she had plenty of time to make it back to the house before anyone was truly worried. After all, she was sure they were used to her outbursts and disappearances, just as she was sure they would shortly get used to her child’s.

Pitch Perfect

So, I went to see Pitch Perfect the other day, and it was absolutely brilliant.

If you have been living under a rock for the last few months, here is the trailer:



The film is about a girl named Beca who gets convinced to join the all girls a capella group The Bellas, and then their collective stride from the bottom to the top. She is joined in the group with a crazy mishmash of characters, from Fat Amy, a ridiculous girl from Transylvania who is all personality, to Audrey, the leader of the group, who is hoping to get over a mortifying moment that made the group a joke during last year's Nationals. Along the way, Beca meets Jesse, a fellow freshman with a love for scoring movie soundtracks and a capella singing for the Bellas' all male rivals. What will happen next? Go out and see the movie!

The movie is a great mix of romance, comedy and music. It's got plenty of puns to go around, and the characters, while somewhat superficial are all different and well played. I highly recommend you go see it, especially if you dig musical comedy. Or romance. Or both. Or are friends with me.

ANYWAY.

At one point in the film; the main character, Beca, auditions for the Bellas, using the audition song "Cups (You're Gonna Miss Me)" by Lulu and the Lampshades. I hadn't heard the song before the film, but as soon as I saw it, I knew I had to play it myself. So I found the original, and practised and practised. Finally, I filmed myself! Here is the result: Hope you enjoy!

The Top 5 Call Me Maybe Covers

"Call Me Maybe" by Carly Rae Jepsen is pretty much the only song anyone is singing nowadays, which means that the internet is abound with fantastic covers of it. I wanted to put together my favourites.

The original song (for if you've been living under a rock):



1. Best elementary school cover (is it a cover if she's still singing?):



2. Best choral and orchestral cover:



3. Best indie cover:



4. Best Sesame Street cover:



5. Best Presidential cover:

Week 15: Peace Memorial Museum

On 8:15 a.m. on August 6th, 1945, "Little Boy" was released from 31,060 ft, and detonated 1,968 ft above the city of Hiroshima. The atomic blast almost wiped out the entire city. It is said that there were between 90,000 and 160,000 casualties, with roughly half of the deaths occurring on the day of the blast. This was one of the only two nuclear weapons used in war, and it was also the first.

And on that cheerful note, this was also the reason Cian and I decided to visit Hiroshima. We wished to learn more about the Japanese side of events and see the city firsthand. Needless to say, we weren't disappointed. Cian and I took the night bus to Hiroshima, which got into town at the delightfully early hour of 6:00 am. With nothing to do, we promptly got lost. Seriously, we couldn't even find our way to the right side of the train station. Eventually, we dragged our exhausted bodies over to the other side, and decided to walk to the peace park. It looked like a short distance on the map.

It was not.

After a few hours, we arrived at the park. It was beautiful and peaceful in the early hours of the morning. Before the bomb dropped, the site that the park is now on was host to the busiest area of downtown Hiroshima. When it was all wiped out, the city decided to turn it into a Memorial Park instead of rebuilding the buildings. Design competitions were held, and they eventually decided on the current design. I can't even begin to describe it, so I urge you to visit. You know, if you're ever in the area.

At the end of the park is the Peace Memorial Museum, which is what we were most interested in seeing. We went in, paid our 50 yen entrance fee, and were promptly taken aback. I can't remember the last time I was so moved by a museum. They didn't take sides, they explained the events leading up to the blast clearly, and they did not hold back when explaining the horrors that the bombing caused. It was a sombering experience. It ended with letters from the Mayor of Hiroshima to the countries that have recently undergone nuclear testing, urging them to stop in the name of world peace. That part felt a little overly optimistic, but after all they've gone through, I think they have done a fantastic job of making the world a better place and promoting an amazing message.

The park also features a number of other sights, such as the A-Bomb Dome, above, and the Children's Peace Monument. All of these are tied together beautifully in the park, and really serve to make an impression. I was half asleep, and bone-tired from walking all morning, but I will never forget how Hiroshima made me feel that morning.

Week 14: Fushimi Inari Shrine

Living in Hokkaido is a land of contradictions. I came here expecting to see temples on every street corner, and people living in houses erected in the traditional Japanese style of architecture. Needless to say to anyone who has read my musings over the last year, this is not quite the case here. Hokkaido is a lot more Westernized than the rest of Japan, and while traditional Japanese culture lingers on, it is not as evident as it is in, say, Kyoto.

This is why I was so excited to visit Kyoto and actually experience the true Japanese culture that everyone raves about. Kinkaku-ji, San-ju-san-gendo, geishas; get ready, Kyoto, because I'm coming for you!

Samara and I in front of a (very crowded) path of torii

There is one vision that lingers in everyone's mind, though, when discussing Kyoto, and that is the iconic look of Fushimi Inari Shrine, where the hundreds upon hundreds of red torii are lined up next to each other, forming walking paths that go on for more than 4 kilometres. Needless to say, this was at the top of my itinerary.

I woke up late my second day in Kyoto, admittedly a little (okay, a lot) hungover from the 4 am outing the night before with my friend Samara, who I had run into at the hostel. Jessica was not in the mood to wait for me to get up, so she scampered off by herself to do arts and crafts down the street. Left to my own devices, I called up the equally hungover Samara and her friend Kelly, and we decided to make the trek down to Fushimi Inari for some sightseeing.

Look, we made it to the train station!

We hopped on the train we hoped would take us there, and began the long walk up to the shrine in the blistering Kyoto heat. The area was packed with sightseers, as we were visiting during Golden Week, one of the busiest times of the year for Japanese sightseeing. We walked and walked, past little stalls and other goodies, until we finally came to the main shrine area.

So packed, guys.

Main Shrine

Fushimi Inari is not just one shrine, but a collection of five, I believe, all intricately linked together by the series of torii that you see in all the brochures for Japan. The mountain on which they are placed, Inari, was named after a Shinto God that was worshiped for wealth in the Shinto religion, and all of the torii were donated by merchants or businesses in the hope that donating a torii would bring them prosperity. The earliest structures were built in 711, but the main shrine was not built until 1499.

Inscriptions by the businesses that donated the torii.

Also, completely unrelated, the wiki for the shrine is also written in Esperanto. Fun Facts!

 

Anyway, as I mentioned, there are more than 4 kilometres comprising thousands and thousands of bright red torii, and we walked the entire thing up to the top of the mountain, where we saw a wonderful view of Kyoto in all its majesty. There isn't much else to say about the shrine itself, so I will let the photos speak for themselves.

We were taking a picture of the torii and these guys randomly walked through and made this face.

Look at me! look at me!

 So there you have it. Jeri dragged her hungover butt through 4k of torii to the top of a mountain and all you got was this blog post. I hope you enjoyed it.

Week 13: The Maid Cafe

Tokyo is a huge, cosmopolitan city. You can find anything you could ever want to find there, from shops that sell cosplay costumes for your dogs to craft beer that you can’t get anywhere else in Japan. The range of options is vast and ever expanding. When I was in Tokyo, I saw things and did things I couldn’t do anywhere else. I went to Meiji Jingu and saw part of a traditional Japanese wedding. I walked through Harajuku and saw tonnes of stores selling crazy stuff. I went to a prison-themed restaurant in Shibuya. One thing, however, stood out in my mind as completely unique and Japanese.

Shibuya, the bustling centre of Tokyo

I went to a Maid Cafe in Akihabara.

For those of you that don’t know what maid cafes are, let me give you a quick rundown. Basically, they are cafes where you can eat and order drinks. Big surprise there. The catch, though, is that you are waited on by a “maid”, which is normally a waitress dressed up in a little maids uniform. They are all attractive, young, innocent looking women. The maids will stir your drinks for you, chat with you, and in some cases perform for the whole cafe. What the girls do varies from place to place, but generally, the atmosphere is somewhat innocent, albeit a little creepy. 

I was intrigued by this when I heard about it, so when my group of girls and I found ourselves in Akihabara, we decided that we had to give it a try. We walked around for a little bit, trying to find a cafe that wasn’t too overpriced, when we came across a really adorably clad girl with a really high-pitched, annoying voice. I was hesitant, but Jessica seemed really excited and she offered a good deal, so we got in the elevator and went up. As soon as the elevator doors opened, everything changed.

Photo courtesy of Wikipedia

I was surrounded by lights and pink and cuteness. It was terrifying. I tried to back out and go back downstairs, but instead I was led to a table for the four of us by a waitress dressed in a french maid costume with another squeaky, high pitched voice. She helped us all sit down, then she introduced herself, kneeling at the table, and wrote her name on a little card, decorating it with hearts and flowers. I was half amused and half uncomfortable. She then took our drink orders and went away to get the drinks, leaving me some time to investigate my surroundings.

It was dark, made that way so you couldn’t really see the other patrons. I tried my hardest to scan the room regardless, and realized very quickly that everyone else was male. The few other females that were there were there with their boyfriends, and I even thought I recognised one of the patrons. If I did, however, he definitely didn’t recognise me, so I paid him the same courtesy. Most of the men were there by themselves, ordering drinks and chain-smoking.

Inside of a Cafe- Photo courtesy of Wikipedia

Our waitress/maid brought us our drinks, and in order to make them “more delicious” we all had to say a magic spell together, complete with silly hand gestures. Jessica got really into this, and I just did it so I could drink my beer. We ordered a few snacks and went through the same routine to make them more delicious too.

Afterwards, we were treated to a special show, where all the maids danced and sang to all of us. They took turns picking out audience members to say silly things, and Jessica got really into it, making cat noises into microphones.  It was interesting, to say the least.

Then, after an hour, we packed up and went home. Unfortunately, you’re not allowed to take pictures inside, so I have no photos from the night, but you could pay to get photos with the maids. We saw one guy getting his photo taken with almost every single one. I am broke, so this story is kind of bare. Gomen.

I would recommend the experience as that. An experience. If you go in with an open mind and don’t expect too much, you might have a lot of fun.

Week 12: Eat Jellyfish

Sometimes, I plan these new things weeks in advance, but other times, they just sneak up on me. Sometimes, in fact, I don’t even know I’ve done something new until after I’ve done it. This was one of those cases. Read it and weep.

I’m not sure how many of you are aware of this, but I am a vegetarian. I don’t eat fish, seafood, pork, beef, chicken, or anything else that used to be an animal. Normally, I don’t have to explain what “vegetarian” means, but since I live in Japan, I know that I can’t take anything for granted. This was made particularly evident when I went to my first enkai, or work party.

An accurate representation of my stomach

The week leading up to the enkai, I had told everyone that I didn’t eat all of these things. I was willing to make concessions and eat seafood, because I realized that if I didn’t, the chefs probably wouldn’t know what to feed me. Satou-sensei got excited and started making calls. The days passed by uneventfully, and suddenly the fateful day of the enkai arrived.

My supervisor and I drove to the resort where the enkai was held, and seated ourselves in the big room. Speeches were made, the kampai was given, and the waitresses started bringing plates of food out. So many different things, and I didn’t know what any of them were. They brought out a few things for me, and I looked at the communal plates after finishing my own food, and asked Nakayama-sensei if there was anything I could eat.

“Yes!” she replied. “these are kikurage! It is a type of mushroom!”

Kikurage. Or what I thought I ate.

“Oh, okay!” I said, taking a few and putting them onto my plate. I put a few bites into my mouth, chewed and swallowed. Well, it seemed she was right. It did kind of taste like mushrooms, albeit slightly strange mushrooms.

The party went on, and I was continually served a number of different dishes, including crab, shrimp, and many other salads. I guess that since I said I’d eat seafood, they really took that to heart. All was well, until about 30 minutes later, when people had had a bit more to drink, that the subject of food once again reared its ugly head.

“How are you finding the food, Jeri? Are there things you can eat?” the (actual) PE teacher asked.

“Yeah, it’s been great! Nakayama-sensei pointed out that I can eat the kikurage here!” I replied, pointing at the mushrooms.

The room went silent and everyone at my table looked at each other uncomfortably.

“Uhh...” the PE teacher started. “That’s not kikurage. That’s kurage.”

Nakayama-sensei looked at me in horror.

“Nakayama-sensei, what is kurage?” I asked, fearing the worst.

“Jellyfish.” she said, obviously terrified.

Jellyfish. What I actually ate.

I started to laugh hysterically. I had just eaten jellyfish! Nakayama-sensei looked at me as though she had killed my child by accident, apologising profusely. “I am so sorry! So so so sorry!” she kept repeating over and over.

“Seriously, don’t worry about it.” I said. “These things happen.”

And then all was right with the world. And I didn’t touch the jellyfish again. 

What jellyfish looks like cooked.

I would never have eaten jellyfish on purpose, but you know what? I’m glad I did it. It was an experience I will certainly always remember, even if not for the best of reasons.

Have you eaten jellyfish? What’s the craziest thing you’ve eaten? Let me know!

Week 11: Internet Free Sundays

9:33 am- I just rolled off Karin’s spare futon, and got up slowly and groggily. I helped myself to a glass of water. I cursed my hangover and my lack of foresight from the night before. I reached for my phone to check my email and Facebook.

Oh, wait, damn. Can’t do that. No internet today. I wrote this instead.

10:00 am- We’re all packed up in Jessica’s car, ready to head back to Iwamizawa for her church after the Higashikawa Easter event. I had a lot of fun. Too much fun, one might say. I don’t regret it. I am, however, wondering how I am going to amuse myself during the drive with no internet on my phone.

10:07 am- I can’t find my ipod. We have to go back, Jack!

10:13 am- oops, it was in a hidden pocket in my jacket all along. Sorry for making you late, Jessica! I know you have a 3 hour drive ahead of you and your church has already started and you want to be there by noon.

10:25 am- I wonder if any embarrassing photos from last night have surfaced on the internet yet. I should check. Oh wait...

10:35 am- maybe I will just take a nap. Leave the driving and k-pop to Jessica. Yes, that sounds like a good idea.

11:46 am- I wonder how close to Iwamizawa we are.

11:47 am- wow, only that far away? How did we get here that quickly?

11:48 am- Jessica, how fast are you going?

11:49 am- maybe I should just go back to sleep until we get there. Yes, that is a good idea.

12:05 pm- oh look, we’ve arrived at the LDS church in Iwamizawa.

12:07 pm- Jess left me the car keys so I can hang while she gets all holy or whatever she does in church. What should I do? No internet. No internet. No internet.

12:10 pm- I have no clue what to do. Maybe I will go for a walk, get some fresh air. And coffee. Lots of coffee. And water. Why does my head still hurt?

12:40 pm- That walk was lovely. This coffee is delicious. I can’t get over the fact that I’m wearing a sun dress without tights and my legs aren’t cold! Summer is coming! Summer is coming! I should tweet about this! Oh, wait...

12:45 pm- trying to play guitar in the back seat of a car is more difficult than I had anticipated. Maybe I will just put it away, and wait.

12:48 pm- this is boring.

1:00 pm- okay, where are Jess and Andromeda? Church ended a whole second ago!

1:10 pm- still not here.

1:15 pm- nope.

1:20 pm- oh look there they are! And they are bringing the elders with them! Yay! I get to meet them hung-over in my indecent sundress! Quick, I’d better zip it up!

1:30 pm- well that was fun. I think I made an okay impression!

2:00 pm- I’m finally home sweet home! No time to get to the cello concert, though. What should I do instead? Stream a show? Nope, can’t. Watch a movie online? Nope. Check facebook? Nope. Check my email? Nope. Hmm... I could read!

2:01 pm- my e-book is dead. Maybe I will take a shower!

2:15 pm- that was nice. Now what?

2:30 pm- ooh I’ll watch these DVDs I have had for ages and haven’t watched cuz I’ve had the internet!

4:24 pm- Totoro is strange.

4:26 pm- Dinner time! What should I make? I am lazy. Lazy lazy. Edamame from the freezer it is for now!

4:30 pm- maybe I’ll write in my journal a bit.

5:16 pm- that was nice :)

5:34 pm- ooh I’ll continue the DVDing with this rare and unseen footage Bowie DVD I have. Yes. So much yes.

5:45 pm- man David Bowie smokes a lot.

5:51 pm- he also acts a little bit like a giant asshole.

6:35 pm- right, now that I know more about Bowie than I ever needed to, what now? Ooh I still have Pleasantville on my computer!

7:35 pm- this movie is weird. Also I am super sleepy.

And that is the last thing I wrote before I fell asleep.

All in all, I think the internet-free day was a good idea! I think I will continue to adopt it every Sunday. It made me more productive, I did things I wouldn’t have done otherwise, like finally watching those films. I could get used to it.

Have you ever gone without internet or anything? Let me know :D

Week 10: Get a Pixie Cut

I love playing with my hair. It has been long, short, medium length. It’s been curly and straight. It’s been blonde, brown, black, and red. There are few things I wouldn’t do to my head, just to wonder if it would look good, and the few things I wouldn’t do are only because I have a job where I need fairly conservative hair.

black.

blonde.

red.

I also get bored easily, and when my hair has been one style for too long, I start to get antsy. I comb through websites with photos of different hairstyles, asking my friends how they’d look on me.

“No,” I think. “I need to grow my hair out. It needs to happen. I want long, beautiful flowing locks a la Zooey Deschanel.” And then I go against my thoughts and lumber down to the salon to chop it all off.

look. at. that. hair.

That is what happened a few weeks ago, when I decided rather suddenly to get the pixie cut I’d always dreamed of having, but stopped just short of achieving. I had cut my hair short before, but never Emma Watson short. And that is what I wanted.

the before photo. right after my last haircut.

I called up Jessica, eager to get her recommendation for a place to go. She had had her haircut in Japan twice, and always ended up looking super cute. Because of this, I went for a run to her place, and then we drove down to the salon together. As it turned out, I had been to karaoke on my birthday with my hairdresser! While her English was non-existent, she was super nice, and more importantly, very talented with a pair of scissors.

We talked back and forth in broken Japanese, and she asked how much I wanted taken off. I showed her the photo that I’d brought with me, and I swear, her eyes almost popped out of their sockets. “Really?!” she asked in Japanese. “So short!”

the photo i brought in.

“Yes, I know. Get rid of it.” I replied in my amazing flawless Japanese.

And so she did. And I ended up looking like this:

I know you have all probably seen pictures of my hair by now and you’ve told me what you thought, but if this is new to you, what do you think? Should I stick with long hair or short? Have you ever done anything crazy to your hair? Let me know!

Week 9: Go to a Chocolate Factory

I’m not sure if you are aware of this, but inside Sapporo, Japan’s fifth largest city, there exists a place called Shiroi Koibito Park. I’m not religious, so I may be a little confused on this front, but I am pretty sure it is heaven.

Why, you may ask? Because the park is composed of a giant chocolate factory and its grounds. You can tour the chocolate factory where they make Sapporo’s famous cookies, try making the cookies yourself, feast on some delicious chocolate in the tearoom, and run around the park for hours!

And that is exactly what I did one day. Armed with an empty stomach and a sense of adventure, I braved the cold Hokkaido winds and the Sapporo metro system to find my way to this little piece of paradise. And Cian came with me.

When I got there, I was instantly struck by how big the building was. I figured since I was in Japan and everything in here was tiny, the building would be as well. I was wrong. The grounds span for more than a kilometre, and the red-brick building instantly dwarfs everything around it. We walked up and into what we thought was the front entrance, eager to get out of the wind.

As it turns out, the entrance we walked into was not the actual entrance, so after some broken Japanese exchanged with the nice ladies at the souvenir shop, we walked out and into the actual entrance, where we purchased our tour guides, received a ‘chocolate passport’ and headed on our way. We were supposed to follow the prints on the ground as we went through the factory tour.

The first thing we saw was a lot of old chocolate related memorabilia. It was like being in a chocolate museum, but without any English to explain the artifacts, I was content to make up my own stories.

After this, we went up through the factory itself, where we watched factory workers and learned how the precious Shiroi Koibito cookies are made. From what I can tell, the chocolate is made, then melted, then cooled into sheets, then cut, then placed between cookies that underwent the same process. Everything is then packaged, and regular taste/quality inspections are conducted. It was all very interesting, but it was hard to get over the awkward Engrish on the factory signs. 

From there, we went to the tea room, where we could look out the window and see the grounds and the city. I ordered the liquid chocolate and was promptly served some of the best hot chocolate that I have had in my life. Seriously, I think it was only surpassed by one cup I had in Argentina when I was 14 and maybe the hot chocolate at Juliette et Chocolat. I don’t think I will ever get over the tastiness. 

After this, we wandered back down and ended up in a room filled with gramaphones. Why? I don’t know.

After THAT, we wandered a bit more, and ended up in a room full to the brim with old toys. WHY? I still don’t know.

Then, we braved the cold again and went back downtown.

All in all, I’d say it was a wonderful experience. I love chocolate, so any chance to get close to it is good for me. If you’re in Sapporo and have the time, I would definitely recommend that you check it out, because why not?