On rainiscence

This rain - sideways - reminds me of last summer.

Those weeks of the rainy season in Tokyo, where my shoes never completely dried, where the aircon stopped working due to excess humidity, and where the sound of raindrops hitting the roof became the lullaby you were forced to get used to in order to get any sleep at all. I remember my see-through umbrella from under which I took eerie, silly, wet photographs of raindrops, without ever quite managing to capture their ephemeral beauty. I remember catching a taxi five minutes worth of walk away from home and somehow still managing to emerge at my front door completely drenched. I remember how odd it was that the rain made me cold even though the drops themselves were warm. I remember the smell of wet clothes, wet towels, wet hair, wet everything. I remember splashing ponds, lakes, oceans. I remember hiding from the water under trees, under a bridge, under the open sky. I remember thunder, so much thunder, with lightning bolts sure to hit one tall building or another. I remember smiling in the rain. Not crying; dancing, kissing. 


I remember rain. It seems the rain remembers me too. 

On more ecards

On ghosts

I like to keep an open mind. But frankly, I'm not very good at it. The last few weeks in my lodgings in Tokyo, several of my housemates started talking about a ghost. Apparently, we had a ghost. Strange sounds were heard, and some people got quite scared. I didn't much believe in the ghost in the first place, and when I heard who was the origin of the tales, I believed it even less. One of our residential Aussies is renowned for being full of crap - in a good way - but nevertheless. I confronted him, and normally I'd expect to find him caving to me demanding the truth relatively quickly. But this time he seemed serious. Serious about there being strange sounds.

To me, there is always a rational explanation. We might not know what it is. We might never find out. But that in itself isn't enough to assume that there is a supernatural reason why spirit boards move, why "white ladies" appear in empty houses or why strange sounds are heard in a shared house with 17 people with most varying rhythms and habits. Just sayin' - there are no strange sounds in that environment...

What amazed me more than the fact that people failed to see this connection, however, was that so many of them accepted the paranormal explanation. Normal, rational people - but most of them would readily believe in ghosts. And before you knew it, the house was swarming of stories of walking killer brides, grandmothers that just would not rest in peace, and other scary things. All of a sudden I became something of a misfit in the house, as I was one of the few that insisted that all of this probably had a natural explanation. I was - shockingly - accused of being too logical!

Maybe I am. Maybe I need to open my mind and accept that there are things out there we cannot explain, and that instead of being a sign of human limitations, that is a sign of supernaturalism. Maybe. I had a reminder the other day, though, that I wasn't always this logical.

Being back in my hometown after months abroad always makes me look around to see if there are any major changes. This time there was one. The "haunted house" of my childhood was gone. It's just a house, like any other. But it's been standing empty for decades, and no one has been taking care of it. Gradually, without the proper maintenance, it's been turning into a mere shell of the grand house it once was.

When I was younger, it used to be such a thrill for my friends and me to dare each other to enter the garden. We never even contemplated entering the house. It was haunted, after all. We were convinced.

One friend and I managed to scare ourselves witless one night. Or "night" - it was probably not very late (as we were eleven-ish, we clearly had a curfew). We were out in the garden, it was dark (even with the curfew, Norway gets dark at night in winter-time, and I know it was winter because there was snow). For some reason we decided to make a snowman. But no ordinary snowman, of course. A corpse-snowman...

We made what looked a lot like a female figure, lying down on the ground in the haunted garden. We thought of a story for her - a jealous lover, of course. A tragic death. Burial in the garden (a garden we imagined much like the one from The Secret Garden, by the way - even though it of course was nothing like it). The tale we spun became so vivid to us, that we almost started believing in it. Before we knew it, we thought we saw the murderer on the balcony of the house. We fled the garden in haste, not returning for days.

When we finally returned, the snow had almost melted. Our snowman corpse should have been all gone. But where she had been, the snow had shaped a figure much like the one we made - but much more life-like - out of the rotten grass and leaves underneath it. This time it really looked like a corpse was lying there in the haunted garden.

The stories we had made up came back to us, more scary than ever. And suddenly we were convinced it was a curse - that we were now cursed for having seen the corpse, and that a ghost would then haunt us for the rest of our days!

I haven't seen or heard from this ghost since. Maybe it finally caught up with me in Tokyo. It must have disappointed it greatly to find that I no longer believed in it. By now I am more concerned that the old house the ghost came from finally was torn down. I guess the house could not be saved - in its current condition any renovation would have been futile. But I'm not too keen on what is likely going to be the alternative - some apartment complex, I'm guessing. And I'm a little sorry for future generations of kids who will not get to exercise their imagination in our good, old haunted house.

On good and bad things about leaving Japan

It hit me yesterday. July 1st. It's July. I'm leaving in July. My stay is coming to an end.

That I have conflicted feelings is an understatement. I'm close to exploding from this schism within, tearing me in different directions. I can't make up my mind whether I'm more sad to be leaving or happy to come home. Since leaving is coming first, that is still more prominent in my mind. As of right now, there is nothing I am missing so much from home that it overshadows what I will miss from here. What I already miss. Funny how you start missing something before it's gone - like you're trying to distance yourself from a good thing because you know you can't keep enjoying it for long.

Rationally, I know that my life is in Norway. That I will be happier there, long-term. There are many things about Tokyo or even Japan that I don't like, and many things I would miss from Norway should I attempt to stay here longer. But still. As I tried to write a "good and bad" list, weighing benefits about returning home against the disadvantages of leaving, I found it got equally confusing and irrational. Things that should be "good", are also "bad", and half the time I'm not sure what category they belong in.

As you can see, Tokyo is currently winning. And if you think I'm cheating by writing "people" four times, in addition to "friends", "people I've met" and "people I've yet to meet", let me remind you that Tokyo has about 30 million people, while Oslo has 500 thousand... (And my hometown even less. It *will* be an anti-climax to return there)

Fortunately, some of the people I've met in Tokyo are also leaving - either for Oslo or in the case of my Danish, Swedish and Finnish friends, countries that are considerably closer to Norway than Japan. Hopefully this means that I can stay in touch with them. And of course - as one of those who is leaving pointed out - we live in a TGIF world. No, not "Thank God, It's Friday", but "Twitter, Google, iPhone and Facebook". It's possible to stay in touch despite distances. 

And still. I'm sentimental. Despite stayingintouchability, it will never be the same. I've had an absolutely excellent time here. There have been ups and downs, of course - some of the downs more obvious than others - but all in all I am very happy I came to Japan, and equally happy that I went back after my involuntary "vacation" in Norway this spring. Some of the best things about my stay only happened after I cam back. 

I have two weeks. It is my firm resolution to make the absolute most of them. Knowing Tokyo, I have every reason to expect it will be amazing. 

On urban localism

Tokyo is one of those places that doesn't always feel very large despite the fact that its population is one of the largest for any city in the world (depending on how and what you count). As an urban area, it's obviously HUGE with its 30 million people. But the place I'm currently living in, however, doesn't feel very big at all. Perhaps the considerable local-ness of Tokyo is what made me feel so at home here right from the start? Below are a few of the things that comprise my local community.

The Mori Tower. My favourite skyscraper.

Roppongi Crossing

Traditional meets modern, at the Imperial Palace/Hibya

Hibiya at sunset ♥

One of the oddest buildings I know, right in my neighbourhood

Because every pet needs that special attention, right?

Temple with a basketball net? But of course. 

Geisha barbie and all her friends @ the spa...

Stairway to heaven? Maybe not, but there is a temple at the top

The mandatory temple cat 

I thought this was interesting, in all its moldy, broken beauty

Messy, noisy, trafficky, and YET local...

I ♥ local Tokyo :)

On true happiness

Not that I have too much time for anything like this. If I could choose, I probably would spend about an hour each morning like this - on Starbucks, with my Kindle (product placement, much? *snort*), having a relaxing start of my day. But alas, my mornings tend to be far more stressful than that. I frequently sleep too little (especially in Tokyo), so I get up too late. I run to the shower, try to make time for both breakfast and basic make-up, and then I'm off to work. I can only dream of having the time to pick up a coffee most days, little less sit down to drink it.

In a perfect world I would have that kind of time. Or I would make that kind of time. But then... If this was my daily routine, perhaps I wouldn't appreciate it as much..?

On placebo

You know the feeling you get after having been aboard a boat for some time? When you get back on land, it feels like you're still rocking, back and forth, along with the waves. I had that exact feeling for two weeks after the Japan earthquakes on 11 March. Occasionally the earth really did move, of course, since we had heavy aftershocks several times a day, and aftershocks are still felt in the region. But about half the time I seemed to be the only one feeling the rocking, and when I still felt it when I got back to the seismically inactive Norway, it was apparent that these were my own, personal quakes. In short, my brain was playing tricks on me.

When I decided to return to Tokyo to finish my internship, one of the major worries were the aftershocks. Sure, a potential increase in radiation in the air, food or drinking water could be a threat, but for some reason that didn't bother me much. The effects are more long-term (depending on the level of radiation, of course), and radiation is a more subtle danger, which might both be reasons I'm not freaking out over it. In addition, it really does seem to have cooled down a bit in the Fukushima power plant - or at least the media has cooled down their coverage - both of which contributes to me being more calm.

The thought of aftershocks, however, was still terrifying to me, because I've felt real earthquakes now. Experienced what they can do. Many believe - and not in a "the rapture is upon us" kind of way, "many" in this case includes scientists in the field - Tokyo's big centennial quake is still to come, and with the increased seismic activity in the general area it doesn't seem unlikely this might happen now. Plus the fact that earthquakes make me physically ill. There is very little I hate as much as the seasickness the above mentioned rocking leads to.

So, then. Why would I want to go?

I decided - from safe, far-away Norway - that I wanted closure. That I enjoyed the job, the city, the people too much not to give it another chance. That I didn't want the earthquakes to win. That my fear of quakes after all could not be bigger than my fear of missing out of great experiences I'd treasure for the rest of my life.

My assessment was almost right. It did feel good to come back. I still love my job - perhaps even more now, since the quake ironically has created a whole lot of new, interesting perspectives in my work. I adored meeting all my friends here again, and I've also met a whole lot of new friends since I got back. And Tokyo has shown itself from its best side these past weeks. The weather is lovely; the city is its normal, crazy self; and everywhere I go, everything I do, really make me feel like I'm making memories for life.

But. Those quakes. We haven't had any major ones since I got back. I think I've felt five in two weeks, only one of which was strong enough to make me get out of bed, and one made me look around for my earthquake helmet. But in reality they have been minuscule compared to what I'm used to by now.

The worst part, though, aren't the real earthquakes. The placebo ones are. It's funny how I'm never in doubt when there is an actual quake, but whenever I have a placebo one, I'm all "was that a quake? Or was it me? Am I shaking? Or is it the ground?". As mentioned, they stopped after about a week or so in Norway. Two days before I left for Japan again, they were back. Thus there is absolutely no doubt that they are triggered by my own anxiety. It's a little scary, actually, that my mental state is capable of tricking me like that. I KNOW they are not real. But I'm still not sure (until there is a real one, that is). Placebo drugs have an effect because people believe they are real drugs. I tell myself over and over and over again that these aren't real quakes, but  the results of this case study are still messed up. I feel them all the same.

Japan has had several thousands of quakes since the 11th of March. I've had about twice that amount. Frankly I am fed up. Despite everything I love about being back, I am counting the days till I can get off this boat.

On the sorrows of a wooden plaything

"Hullo, there. Won't you come play with me, please? Oh. You're too big. Sigh. Yeah, they all say that. Kids grow up too fast. And here I am, stuck to this spring, doomed to eternally flip back and forth, or occasionally sideways, but never as much as an inch off my axis. Kids, they run off, play with the other toys, and go home when it gets dark or when it rains. But I cannot. I wish I could run away too. Just once, I'd like to feel the grass under my hooves. But then I don't have hooves either. I only have this foot rest, with no feet resting on it.

Are you sure you can't come play with me?"

On キリン*

The giraffe might not be native to Japan, but it certainly makes its presence known in Tokyo. Or perhaps I just notice them more than most folks would..?

The label says "Tall Horse", but I know better.
It's a giraffe, all right.
(And yes, it is also wine. Haven't tasted it [yet])

Yes, that is my finger in front of the lens...
Above it, however, is a girafflag. Or banneraffe.
What I want to know, though, is where "giraffe1" is..?

A nanako point is, apparently, where arrogant giraffes hang out. 

From a sign. Somewhere. For something. Probably not giraffe-related. 

Shinjuku-giraffe. 

And of course this one, that I have posted earlier.
My suggestion was that it was an ad for a giraffe grooming salon,
but of course my readers had many more creative ideas. Giraffe clothing
store? Giraffe tailor shop? Or my favourite - the giraffe is getting mugged!
(Poor giraffe, though it is looking reasonably happy...)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*If I copied the proper katakana (and you never know - Japanese websites can be tricksy...),  キリン means "giraffe" in Japanese. It struck me that it's been a while since I've "giraffed around the world" like I used to, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity. I actually started this post waaaay back in March, but then it didn't feel right to post it after I went home after the quake. Now that I am back, however, it feels more appropriate.

Also, if you read Japanese, and you notice that I didn't copy the proper katakana, I would greatly appreciate if  you tell me that I managed to write a blog post about "title" or "heading" or whatever the Japanese Wikipedia page about giraffes is called...

On Tokyo, part two

"Thank you so much for visiting our store. Please come back soon."

The staff in Japanese stores have always been polite. But now, some of them are polite to the point of ridicule. Please visit our store again. Thank you very much for stepping inside these doors even if you didn't buy anything. Maybe I'm reading too much into this, but it seems as the politeness covers up relief that even foreigners are starting to return to normal life in Tokyo. 

Well, some foreigners. Living in one of the parts of Tokyo most densely populated with gaijins, it is noticeable that many of us have left the city. Almost two months after disaster hit Japan, it seems unlikely that all those who left will return. Most diplomatic missions either temporarily closed shop in Tokyo, or cut down considerably in their service. Some established offices elsewhere, some simply left. But those who meant to come back, largely will have done so by now.  

It's not just the diplomats, though. The ex-pat community seems smaller. Some of those who left might not be able to return. I've heard stories of foreigners losing their jobs in Japanese companies after having chosen to leave Japan after the earthquake. It seems harsh, but at the same time I can see where the companies are coming from. If their employers cannot handle earthquakes, there is very little for them in Japan. If you want to live here, you have to accept the fact that there will be quakes, and some of them might be big. 

As a consequence of the foreigner-drain from Tokyo, though, certain businesses are struggling. Guest houses for foreigners, grocery stores specialized in imported food, the many lunch places in the embassy area - they have all had to live with next to no demand for more than a month, and now that it is picking up again, it might be too late. Some have closed shop already, and from the look of the (lack of) traffic, others might follow. This is only a small part of the economicl and otherwise problems Japan is facing post-crisis, and in the long run not the most important one. But it illustrates the magnitude of the crisis when businesses not directly affected by the crisis, in a city not directly affected by the crisis, are struggling. 

Thus I'd be lying if I said that everything is as it was in Tokyo. It isn't. Much is back to normal - radiation levels included - but there is still a certain gloomy mood hanging over the city. The news are still largely centered around the catastrophe and its aftermath. Closed escalators, dark buildings and other power-saving efforts to compensate for the shut down nuclear plants are constant reminders that the city and the country are still in crisis mode. And despite putting on brave faces there is no doubt that many of us still feel that its uncomfortable with all the aftershocks (fortunately, we haven't had any major ones since I returned. I've only felt one I was certain was a quake, and then several fquakes - fake quakes triggered by anxiety or by injury to your balance, both of whom I've experience frequently since the first big earthquakes in March). 

Despite this, people seem intent on staying positive. And once you start looking for it, it is easy to find bright spots in the gloom. I've had the great fortune to spend most of my time back with wonderful friends - some old, some new. Getting back to normal life here - as normal as possible - has been good for me. I've come across things I didn't even realize I'd missed, and I've discovered new loves about Tokyo. Ironically, one of them was born out of the only thing that's really been bothering me since I got back: the heaviest jet lag I've suffered yet. I haven't been able to sleep much at all, and definitely not at night. So several mornings I've been out walking, discovering a (to me) new side to this wonderful city. Before the city wakes up, there is a strange freshness to it, unspoiled by traffic or people. The few that are out are either on their way home from a party or perhaps the night shift, or they are on their way to work. Shops are being cleaned or the shelves are restocked, and you might pass a stray jogger or two. But there is a completely different pace than Tokyo normally can allow. I didn't realize how calm a city of this size could become. 

And so, despite the anxiety I felt before coming, the overall impression after having arrived is a good one. Japan found its place in my heart a long time ago; Tokyo has now reclaimed it on behalf of the entire country. A few weeks ago I wrote in my status update on Facebook : "Nothing has changed. Everything is different." Coming back to Tokyo, I think it is now more appropriate to say: "Everything has changed. But nothing is different." 

Tokyo Tower is dark. Changed, but not different. 

On X

And just like that, Jack was her ex. 

Okay, so this is a sorry-ass eXcuse for a post. Xorry. The thing is I'm not used to the letter X. Look it up in the Norwegian dictionary. You might miss it. It will probably have two entries - xylophone and then one I can't remember. Maybe xenophobia. 

Also, I'm not in a bloggy mood. Usually, towards the end of month-long challenges I feel good about myself for having completed them. This time, I'm not so sure. I have not been very good with the community aspect of it all. I don't know how many blogs I've visited (old and new), but it sure hasn't been anywhere near the amount one probably should try to visit when participating in a challenge with 1200+ participants. 

So what. I said at the beginning that I was doing it for persistence, not community. I haven't expected to gain hugely in followers or following, and I haven't. I appreciate the new blogs I've found as a result of the A-Z, but I don't feel terribly bad about those I didn't get a chance to visit. The problem, however, is that my initial goal also failed. Yes, I have put up a post (of sorts) every day (except Sundays) since the start of April. I managed to finish the challenge. But it hasn't inspired me to continue in the same fashion. 

Frankly, I am wondering if I am stretching my ability and interest with my attempts of blogging daily. I am actually growing weary of my own style. I am a little tired of listening to my own voice. If this was a blog I was visiting, I'd take a break from it right about now. 

There might be a break starting where April and A-Z ends. The reasons for this are not those described above, but rather my upcoming return to Tokyo. Yes. I'm going back. I guess writing it here makes it official (though Facebook already knows). I have set my mind to make it a good remainder of my stay. The earthquakes might interfere with how much I enjoy it, but I am determined to try to ignore that. I am queasy about going back, but also relieved to have made the decision. 

Maybe being tired of myself and my own voice will change when I return to a place and a life which will give me something to write about? I assume so. Thus this is a notification of a possible short break. After Y and Z, don't expect to see me for maybe a week. Then I'll be craving to tell you ALL about my veryvery exciting (and possibly earthquakey) life back in Tokyo... 

X marks the spot... 

(And no, I haven't broken up with my boyfriend, Jack. I don't even have a boyfriend named Jack. I merely unplugged the headphones from my computer and saw a story in there, somewhere...)

On nuclear scares

Let me say this once and for all: Fukushima will not be a Chernobyl 2.

And I'm not just saying this to make you (or me) feel better. I say it based on information provided to me by Japanese authorities, and analyses of this info from specialists from several diplomatic missions in Tokyo. I learned more abour nuclear physics (chemistry?) yesterday than I ever wanted to. Let me try to put it in layman's terms, as it has been explained to me.

First of all, the Fukushima reactors do not contain burnable material. The problem in Chernobyl was that the reactor overheated, started a fire which burned for days, and the smoke from the fire spread radioactive material over vast areas. In Fukushima, no such fire is possible.

Secondly, the explosions that have occurred were scary, but not as dramatical as certain news channels (and Twitter) claimed. It was not - I repeat not - a nuclear explosion, and it did not take place in the actual reactor. During a controlled venting of the containment vessel for the reactor in Unit 1 of the Fukushima power plant, hydrogen gas leaked. This gas is explosive when in contact with oxygen. Thus when it leaked further into the operational floor of the unit, it came in contact with the air there, and exploded. This is what blew the roof off the building. Four people were injured, and some (but very little) radioactive material was released, in amounts so small that it amounts to no more than what you are exposed to during a regular x-ray. Also, the containment vessel of the reactor is intact and suffered no major damage, and there is no indication that the actual nuclear core is damaged. It does appear that the second explosion (Unit 3) was similar (and this time expected, although obviously still not wanted) to the first one, and we have received no indication that the situation is more severe as a result of the second explosion. 

Both the reactors have also been cooled down, by use of seawater. This means two things: first of all, the reactor is forever ruined, and cannot be put to further use. This is doubtlessly a tough decision to make, not only because of the value of the reactor itself, but also because the temporary termination of the nuclear power plants have created a power shortage here, and that in turn affects the reactors that depend on pumps to cool it down.

Secondly, it poses challenges because there now will be contaminated sea water that cannot be returned to the sea. Japanese authorites have confirmed they will not do that.

These are severe problems, and Japanese authorities are aware of them - but they are still not in the Chernobyl range. We have all seen disaster movies. It is easy to imagine a "worst case scenario" much more bleak than what actually is likely, or even possible. I have asked our expert all sorts of questions, ranging from what the actual (as opposed to media) worst case scenario is; how likely this is; (selfishly) whether this would affect Tokyo; and so on.

His answers have been reassuring. He does not believe an actual meltdown will happen, based on the current information we have available. It seems that the reactors have been cooled down, and they are monitoring further activity. The sea water that has been used to cool down the reactors have been infused with borom, which kills nuclear reactions. Both of these things are good news, since it decreases the likelyhood of a meltown.

Even if a meltdown were to happen, though, the effect would be much smaller than Chernobyl. At the moment the emissions we should worry the most about are probably the contaminated sea water and how it is being handled.

Because of the nuclear power plant shut-downs Japan is facing an energy crisis. We are urged to save power, and the energy company has organized "brownouts" - rotating blackouts to ration power. This is inconvenient, but again I am fortunate to be at the embassy where we have a generator so that we can keep contact with the world. For the time being, I have no plans of leaving Tokyo.



As you may have noticed, I've returned to my regular "on"-titles today. Not because I don't believe we are still very much in a state of emergency - we are - but we still have to try to move towards some sort of normalcy, or we wouldn't be able to cope. The last few days I've had very little sleep, I've been eating irregularly, and I've been under more stress than I've experienced in my lifetime. The combination is not the best; like everyone else here I am exhausted. I try to look at the Japanese. They are worried too - obviously - but they are handing this very well. They go about with their usual business if possible, and listen to authorities for advice. Training since primary school and an orderly nature helps. The only people I've seen freaking out over any of this, have been foreigners. I believe the rest of the world has much to learn from Japan when it comes to coping with crisis.

And yet. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried. No, I don't believe we face nuclear meltdown. But yes, it is a grim situation. Despite my rational explanation above, I cannot pretend that I am not affected. It feels oddly like living in the aforementioned disaster movie. I feel that we by now have come to the stage where either a superhero or a rescue team of astronauts or something should arrive and save the day. I'm about ready for the end credits.

On what happened to Wordless Wednesday

...perhaps it drowned in a pool of flying goldfish?

On my weekend

We're crazying up at work. Our prime minister is visiting next week (did I already mention that? I think not. It's been a lid on/lid off thing [that's an expression, right? In some language? Not Norwegian I think. English? Maybe I made it up... But y'all understand what it means, though - right?] for a while, because there were some protocol restrictions on who were inviting whom and such. Anyway..), and this is causing a lot of extra work for everyone - including the trainees. Thus, it was nice to work only one hour overtime on Friday, and then go home - collapse in bed hours before my bedtime, and concentrate on nothing than a missed episode of Raising Hope (because Big Bang Theory and Community both skipped a week. What's up with that?!)

On Saturday I took a personal day. Okay, so I wasn't working anyway, but most Saturdays and Sundays thus far in Tokyo have been spent sightseeing or some form of touristing. It gets exhausting. Instead, I brought my laptop and snuck out of the house early in the morning (or, you know, noon, which is still pretty early for most of the people living in my building), headed for the nearest (or actually, not the nearest at all. More like the 5th nearest. I wouldn't want anyone to find me...) Starbucks.

My laptop and I had some quality time there. First of all I cleaned up my "My Documents" folder, which was a total mess. I once had a system, but after various laptop changes and backups, it had crashed and burned. Now, it's all neat and folderized, and some of the duplicate documents have been deleted. Never mind that I still have another laptop at home plus an extended hard drive that needs a make-over...  Happiness looks like a neatly organized hard drive. In the process I also discovered several writing projects I had not quite forgotten, but at least filed in the very back of my mind. Interestingly, several of them made me want to pick them back up, none of them made me delete them (except the one-sentence one. No, I cannot read your mind, Cruella2004. You'll have to be slightly more specific than "like that movie, but the other way around"..), and one or two had me chuckling when re-reading (and yes, in the good way). Thus, the idea bank is safe (and now organized, yay!).

What I also noticed at Starbucks was that this apparently is the place many Japanese go to sleep off their Friday night escapades. In general, sleeping in public places is a bit of a thing here... Weird.

After Starbucks the Norwegian in me awoken and I decided that it was horrible to spend a sunny Saturday indoors, no matter how happy it made me. So I started walking.

What I love about Tokyo (or indeed any large - and reasonably safe - city with a good public transportation system; London and Washington D.C. come to mind) is that if you are not going anywhere specific, you can just randomly walk without a map (an added bonus for a mapilliterate, like myself) and still know you'll find your way home since there are metro stations everywhere.

So I picked a direction, and walked. After about ten minutes, I had a choice between right and (not wrong, but) left, and I picked left on the grounds that it looked slightly more appealing than right. I was right. After about ten more minutes, I got into a more official looking area, with guards and walls and fences. A sign informed me that I was passing the office building for the House of Representatives to the National Diet. (On a side note - the word "Diet" to describe your parliament, is confusing. If you google "Japanese Diet", only about half of the hits are about the parliament, while the rest concern rice & raw fish.)

"Poor politicians," I thought. "I must be very frustrating to have their offices so far away from the actual Diet building." And then I passed a corner, and there it was - the Diet.

See, I know that Tokyo is big. Thus it always surprises me so when I discover that it isn't as big everywhere. Or rather, even in huge Tokyo, some distances are small. Like the one from "my" Starbucks (only five away from where I live) to the Diet building. It's only a short Sunday walk, really.

Once you get to the Diet, it is also just a short walk to the government district (Kasumigaseki), the Imperial Palace, and Hibiya (where I've spent some time, so the area is familiar to me). Thus my guilt walk turned into an epiphany of sorts, making this large city slightly smaller to me.

All this time I kept wishing I had brought my camera. See, as much as I love my camera, it is also too big to bring along "just in case". Unless I know I will actually use it, I will leave it at home (and I made a mistaken last minute decision before leaving Norway regarding bringing my compact camera. Meaning I didn't, in case that was unclear). Yesterday, though, was a beautiful day. Lovely light, and a ton of great motifs my darling Buck (that's my non-compact camera...) would have done justice. Such as the single blossoming cherry/plum tree I passed (the blossom is a BIG deal here. Will post on that some other time. Regarding the cherry/plum distinction I am no expert, but I have been told that the plum goes first, so I am guessing the cherries are the ones that haven't started yet). Or the skyscrapers in Kasumigaseki bathed in sunlight. Eventually what made me cave in and pull out my (inferior) cell phone camera was the lovely view of the Imperial Palace in the sunlight. Thus, one picture from yesterday to share:

I swear, Buck would have done a better job, but at least you get an idea what lovely weather it was, and how pretty the palace (or rather, one of the entrances) looked, reflected in the water.

This post is getting long. Sorry - digressionist at work...

I got back home (by metro - it was a relatively short walk, but it seemed much longer to attempt to walk both ways..), stopped by my new favourite store (Don Quixote - it has everything. Everything, I say), went home, made dinner, crashed in bed early again.

Sunday - today - I got up, got out, and spent all day with two friends up in the Harajuku area. Harajuku is probably one of the craziest, weirdest, funniest, most interesting places in Tokyo. It's where all the cool kids (and let me emphasize the word kids. Many of them are no older than 12-15, and even the ones that are, frequently try to look around that age. It's a little creepy, actually...) hang. It's where much of the cosplay take place. It's where you'll find rockabilly Japanese, dancing rock&roll to the delight of passing tourists. But it also has a nice park (Yoyogi) and a beautiful temple and shrine area (which I visited a few weeks ago). We had a great time walking around in the (still) lovely weather. It feels a lot like spring in Tokyo these days (but I am convinced I will regret saying that tomorrow, when it will supposedly rain).

All in all a pretty nice weekend. Definitely a nice break from work. Muchly needed mental and physical rest, and I'm sure the exercise and fresh air can't hurt either. Though I sort of wish I had one more day off before going back to the crazy tomorrow...

Finally, one extra picture (since I just transferred a batch from my mediocre cell phone cam to the laptop). This is a follow-up to a request from the very first post I wrote from Tokyo. Kids bathing in a peach. I say no more...

On why it is a bad idea to celebrate the year of the rabbit by rabbitifying your store

"Frank", from "Donnie Darko"

"Francine"(?) from Harajuku, Tokyo

At least Francine didn't tell me that the world would end in 28 days, 6 hours, 42 minutes and 12 seconds.

On even more yuki

Last weekend was a cold affair in Tokyo (see previous post if you don't believe me), but it was even colder in Yokohama. See this post if you still don't believe me. I've no idea why you suddenly seem to think I'm a liar. Could it be because I trespassed on a cemetery and briefly considered consuming alcohol in a public place? Surely not. But you might have to check out Burrowers, Books & Balderdash to be on the safe side...

Also, extra points if you can tell me what's happening in the picture below:

Seriously. If there is a giraffe grooming salon somewhere nearby, I want to go there!!!

On yuki

Yuki means "snow" in Japanese (or so I've been told), and it is also a pretty girl's name. I used to know a girl named Yuki. I also knew a Yuka and a Yoko (actually, I now know a new Yoko), but this post is not about anyone of them. It's not even about Yuki. It's all about the snow.

Since Japan stretches from north to south about as far as Norway does (not that this would be a point of reference for many of my readers, but whatever... Get a map!), it means that the climate in the northernmost parts of the country is quite different from that of southern Japan (and I'm not even counting Okinawa, which is a different story altogether). The northern parts of Japan get a considerable amount of snow each winter - many of them being the location for several famous ski resorts.

Not Tokyo, though. Tokyo rarely gets much snow, and thus I didn't plan for snow or cold weather when I packed my bags in frozen Norway more than a month ago (time flies!).

Silly me. Last weekend the forecast said cold weather, and while it was nowhere near Norway's 17 blue at the same time, the slushy snow falling over Tokyo and Yokohama (but the snow in Yokohama is another story. Possibly, probably over at the Burrow blog tomorrow) Friday, Saturday and Monday (Sunday was nice, though) was about as cold as anything I've ever felt.

"Oh, but you're Norwegian, you're used to it!" a French housemate told me. Like being used to it helps! It is still cold right here, right now! Besides, I'm not used to it, not now. One month in sunny Tokyo has more than convinced my body that it is spring, and it is not prepared for (or okay with) snow! And, in Norway I am accustomed to being able to wear warm clothes (again, I didn't pack too much of those), and  most importantly, to go inside in a warm house when it's too chilly outside. I can go inside in Japan too, but my current lodging is pretty freaking cold when the temperatures fall, due to the unfortunate combination of poor insulation and a space heater that malfunctions if the outside air is too cold/humid.

"Why do you think I came here?" I replied to the French(wo)man-en-tromper (oui, je sais. Mon francais n'est pas fraîche. Me poursuivre!). I certainly did not come to have more snow!

That night I heard many cars outside my window having problems staying on the road in the relatively heavy snowfall (for Tokyo; for Norway - this was more like an "October scare"). The next morning the papers reported any number of injuries, broken bones, damaged cars, as a result of the snow.

But when I left the house that day to see remnants of snow on the sidewalk and in the street, I couldn't help but smile. Somewhere inside me, there was a child wanting to throw a snowball.

It seems I am Norwegian after all :)

On mingling

One of the more common stereotypes about diplomatic life is that ambassadors and their staff do little more than attend cocktail parties. This is not true. They also attend luncheons and dinners.

I’m joking. Life at the embassy has taught me that a very large portion of the work takes part in front of a computer, and in meetings. The diplomats take pride in representing their country abroad, and this means more than small talk over long drinks. Still, small talk over long drinks is indeed a part of the job, and since part of my job is to take part in every aspect of the embassy work, I also get to attend some of these events.

Cocktail parties and other similar events involve mingling. This is an art I have yet to master. First of all it is difficult enough to start a conversation with complete strangers; secondly I find it difficult to leave said conversation to go talk to someone else.

To initiate a conversation with someone the first step is usually to introduce yourself. Your name, and your occupation. In many professional events it is also common to exchange business cards. In Japan, this is not only common, it is crucial. My current problem is that I haven’t yet gotten a business card, both because I am new in the job, but more importantly because the embassy phone system have been changed since I got here, so I was asked to hold off ordering business cards until the new numbers were cleared.

In many parts of the world, this would be problematic, but not catastrophic. In Japan, it is social suicide. The business cards exchange is more than just an exchange of contact information. Actually, the tradition is similar to the well known Japanese gift exchange – a symbolic gesture that requires both parties to give something of similar value to the other party. There is much ceremony to this; the business card is supposed to be presented with both hands, and it is polite to read what’s on the other party’s card before pocketing it.

I cannot tell you how many times I have had to explain that I don’t have a card yet. It is outrageous. Nobody does not have a card. If you exist, you have a card. And if you meet someone else who exists, you will give them your card and expect to receive one back.

And yet, I think I have seen relief in some people I’ve met when I’ve told them I cannot participate in this ritual just yet. One less pointless card to throw away when they get home. Because surely, nobody keeps all the cards they receive? As mentioned, the exchange of business cards isn’t necessarily about exchanging contact information – no one expects you to actually stay in touch with all these people. What interest do you actually have to stay in touch with somebody you randomly met at a party, whose work and life does not at all overlap with your own, when knowing that your only mutual meeting point forever will be only this one party?

We’re back to the core of why mingling is difficult. Because there are mostly strangers, you don’t know who it will be interesting to talk to. You have to take a chance and start talking to whomever stands close by, or who’s eyes you meet, or who is standing in a half circle so that it is possible to sneak in without interrupting too much. And then you ideally should have an exit strategy in case you discover that all the people in the half circle are talking about the usage of microchips in fusion-powered transportation systems. Or some other technical dippedidoodaat you don’t understand.

As mentioned, it can be equally hard to get out of a mingle-situation as it is to get in. Once you’ve gotten through all the obligatory small talk, you have to find a way to stay interested and interesting, otherwise the conversation obviously will stall quite quickly. The awkward silences that follow are even more awkward if the other party also is not too good at mingling. You are both too polite to just leave, none of you are able to think of an excuse to leave, and yet, you’re not able to think of anything interesting to say.

The other pitfall is to get into too deep a conversation. Often I find that when asking about other people’s work, they tend to get comfortable in the conversation, since it’s (hopefully) a topic they know very well. A lot of people are very passionate about their work. The other night I talked to an archeologist who specialized in ancient ship wrecks. How cool is that? He was like the Indiana Jones of the Sea! We talked for a long time about his work, my studies, and about the incomprehensibly cold relationship between historians and archeologists. I would have liked to continue to talk to him, but since I felt obliged to mingle, that wasn’t really an option.

See, you’re not supposed to have long conversations in these settings. First of all it ruins the point of the event for yourself – networking is not-working if the net consists of only one very detailed mesh (stitch? Loop? My metaphor is failing me…). Secondly, it ruins the point of the event for everyone else – if two people are immersed in deep conversation all night; these are two people less to mingle with. If everyone is doing it, no one is networking. Third, there is always the chance that the interesting conversation you think you’re having isn’t all that interesting for the other party. He or she is probably there to meet more people than just you, and even though they might enjoy speaking to you, there is a great chance that the main reason they haven’t left the conversation to go speak to the ones they really came there to meet is that they too are too polite to leave without an excuse.

Thus, mingling is a tricky business. If done right – lots of limited small talk, exchanging contact information (or in Japan, business cards whether you expect to stay in touch or not), quickly establishing which people are useful to talk to and who are just there to enjoy the free drinks – it can be an effective way of networking. If done my way, it is a study in awkward silences and pointless conversations.

I obviously need more training in this, and fortunately, this stay gives me ample opportunities to do so. I just need to print a business card first! 

On imaginary pictures

Let's assume I had brought a camera with me everywhere this past week. In that case, I would now be describing to you a picture from my very first "representation" event. It would be a picture of several tiny, old Japanese ladies, and a tall, confused Norwegian one. They would be holding glasses - not with champagne as one might expect from a diplomatic event - but with unsweetened, cold tea. They would all be smiling, partly out of politeness, and partly because they were excited to be there. The Japanese ladies because they adored Norway, the Norwegian because she adored Japanese people adoring Norway.

The next picture would be from a typical office meeting. The only thing untypical about it would be that one of the participants - incidentally the same Norwegian as in the previous picture - looked ridiculously excited. She must be very happy with her new job, you might think. You might be right.

The third picture would have a very interesting composure. At first you'd notice in the front some large tables, white table cloths, silverware and porcelain. People of every ethnicity are sitting by the table, but despite their different background they all seem to share a certain quality. They are eager to listen, and they know what they are listening for - keeping note pads or iPads or small computers at hand, ready to take notes as soon as the subject they are searching for appears in the speech of the key note speaker. Could they be - journalists? Hm... Not all of them. Some - like the now familiar Norwegian girl - seem to have a different agenda, even if these people too are searching for information. So diplomats also attend press conferences? Who knew?

But you have gotten lost in the details and forgotten about the composure of the picture. Allow me to redirect your attention to the background - where you'll be wondering how you didn't see it at first. The view is spec-wait for it-tacular! You now see that the event is high above the ground, and through the panorama windows you see skyscrapers, a myriad of them. Clearly the picture is taken in a gigantic city. The spectacular view in the background, the concentrated people in the front, and the speaker in the middle (he looks important. But then so do a lot of people in suits) forms a very strange dynamic, though the quality of the picture is slightly jarred as a result of the flash of competing cameras.

The fourth picture I'd show you, is of a different kind. It's more quiet, portraying what appears to be a traditional building. If you're familiar with Asia, or Japan in particular, you might ask me if it's a shinto shrine, and I'd confirm, though it would be pretty clear that I am only the photographer, and no expert on the religious role of the shrine. You'd examine the carvings, the painted lanterns,  and the paper strings tied to a tree behind the building. The picture is beautiful, but you'd find it hard to believe when I tell you it was taken only a short walk away from the skyscrapers in the previous picture. "It only illustrates the many contrasts that make up Japan," I'd explain.

The next - fifth - picture is from a bookstore/café you'd at first suspect was taken during my previous stay abroad, in the US. But then you'd notice that even though the Starbucks sign is identical to those in the US, the books definitely are not. Funny how it must feel to walk around in a bookshop, not being able to read even the titles, you'd think. The Norwegian girl from several of the earlier pictures is featured again - this time she is staring intently at a laptop screen, while allowing her coffee to get cold in her hand.

The sixth picture I'd share with you shows the Norwegian girl looking very distressed. She's out in the city again, with tall buildings and short people surrounding her. The map in her hand and the cell phone to her ear indicated that she is lost. The clock on the wall behind her shows 1:55 - PM you assume - and the time on the invitation barely visible behind the map clearly states that she should be present at the meeting at 2PM. If you know anything about Japanese punctuality you'd understand her worried look.

There is only one picture left. The Norwegian girl is standing in front of a small congregation of smiling Japanese people again. She holds a remote control in her hand, and is looking at a colleague who appears to be speaking. It might seem as though they are presenting a movie, as a still shot of a famous actress is frozen on the screen. You can't tell from the picture, but I would make sure to reveal to you that the following event was a success, and that the monthly movie night at the embassy will be one of the simpler tasks for the new trainees.




Alas - I did not bring a camera anywhere this week...

On Tokyo

Konnichiwa! Tokyo e yokoso!

Carpeted floors. Polite people. Hyper-efficient public transportation. Anthill buildings. Endless suburbs turning into endless city. Or so it feels.

It's the strangest feeling, suddenly being effectively illiterate. Absolutely nothing makes sense - you have no idea if the bottle you pick up in the shop is shampoo or cooking oil. The label portrays cartoon children bathing - in a peach. You hope it's not cooking oil, and decide to take the chance.

What..? Coffee Jello?!? And.. Why would anyone want to put caviar on pizza?

In Tokyo everything is small, with three exceptions: dogs, buildings and fruit. Cars, people, clothes, portions, and gardens are tiny. But they seem to love big, fluffy dogs.

You can't see any garbage cans anywhere, and yet there is no garbage on the street. Where does it all go?

A considerable portion of the population are wearing masks on a daily basis, and yet no one seems worried about robbers. Ah. The cold rates are higher than the crime rates in this city.

The metro. Nowhere does that name fit better. Metro. Met-o-ro. The various exits for just one station seems miles apart. It's a labyrinth designed to capture you, but those who know how to navigate it slip past anyone slowing down with ease. The Tokyo metro surely must be the model for Nintendo's classic Donkey Kong games.

Eventually you remember to look up, and discover an entire city on top of the first. Tokyo isn't a ground floor city. Bars, restaurants, shops - upstairs! At the roof of a 56 floor building you finally stop to take a breath. You turn to every direction, but there is no end in sight. The lights from the city reaches the horizon in 360 degrees.

For the first time you have a vague idea how big Tokyo really is.

City of blinding lights?