Everyone loves a corporate do

Happy Advent, everyone - hope you're enjoying your daily fix of chocolate (or your sense of moral superiority if you're one of those people who doesn't believe in Cadbury's Advent calendars).

I thought I would share my afternoon's activities with you. Picture the scene - we're in a rather upmarket hotel's basement function room, there are tables but no chairs spaced through the room, and lots of young people with name badges on that I couldn't read because they were in kanji. It was the end of year party for Kitazawa scholarships - which are provided by an electronics company and are for Japanese university students who get a bit of extra money each term in return for being academic, going to good universities and being generally presentable.

The food was very good but continually unexpected. I say 'continually', despite its sounding a little awkward, because there was a definite time sequence involved. To start with, flames were lit on candles underneath silver-coloured platters, but there was no food. We stood and listened politely to endless speeches (in rapid-fire Japanese that I had no hope of understanding) and I, at least, looked over longingly at the food table and wondered when we would be set free on it. Magically, between glances, it became laden with delicious posh buffet dishes. There was fried rice with interesting grains in it, chilli prawns, something that tasted like chilli con carne on croutons, a deconstructed salade nicoise, baked salmon, dark glazed pork with peppers and more. Just when you'd tackled most of what was on offer, a stack of bowls appeared, with little red watering cans next to them. These turned out to be bright green cold soba noodles flavoured with green tea powder, seasoned with condiments including spring onions and wasabi and dressed with a soy-based broth (which is what was in those watering cans). Not everyone's idea of a good time but I love them. Then, after a suitable pause for a quick trip to the bar for a glass or two of wine, sushi trays were delivered to each table. There had been little red trays with a small well to one side since the start of the meal, and it turned out these were special portable sushi receptacles, complete with a place to put soy sauce. The Japanese students next to us were very surprised at our ability to eat raw fish: there's often a presumption that Westerners won't be able to cope. After that, a pancake stand magically materialised over the other side of the room. The first mouthful of the crepes revealed that not only were they frying pan-fresh, they had put in a good slug of Grand Marnier as well. By this point, several of the older Japanese men present had rather red cheeks, and could be heard laughing heartily as they back-slapped each other. To top it all, just as we thought everything had finished, dainty little mousses arrived, in a variety of flavours. Most impressive, I thought.

In amongst all this imbibing of food and drink was the microphone, which was in constant use for the whole event. I have yet to learn when it's necessary to listen politely and look like I understand, and when it's OK to talk amongst ourselves - this must be something Japanese kids are taught in school or something, as they could all sense when to ignore the speaker and when to listen reverently. Every so often, the speaker would say something (often along the lines of 'yoroshiku onegai shimasu' - roughly 'pleased to meet you') and would bow, at which point the whole room bowed back to them. There was an awful lot of clapping as well. Then came the point at which I managed to make out the word 'igirisu' (England), at which point I started to worry a little. Sure enough, the other Daiwas and I were prodded onto the stage with Okuyama-san, the director of the Tokyo office for our programme. He got out his sheet and started giving a little introduction of each person, at the end of which he paused, the person in question bowed and everyone else clapped. I was fourth in line so thought I had this down. When it got to my name, though, Okuyama-san leaned over so he could read my namebadge (we've met many, many times already, and he had a sheet of paper with my photo, name and one paragraph profile in his hand...!), said that I had gone to Oxford in an unsure-sounding voice, then segued straight onto the next person. I was very confused and did a half-bow, and there was an awkward faint ripple of claps before people gave up and listened to the next introduction. Very odd.

Not quite as odd, though, as the organised fun that followed the food. I had noticed the presence of 'gemu' (games) on the schedule, and sure enough, games there were. The first one consisted of lots of people standing on stage, and each being given a slip of paper. They then had to perform an action, and (as far as I could make out) one person did something different, and was the odd one out. There was a complicated points system contingent on who spotted which person it was, and what they were doing instead of the mainstream action. After that, there was an 'IQ test', with puzzles that the people on our team dutifully showed us but which were full of Japanese we couldn't read. They tended to be maths-based, though some were more like riddles, I think. Points were earned from that as well, depending on whether you guessed the answer before anyone else. At the end of the tournament, if I can call it that, our table came in last place, surprising nobody! Right at the end, there was a rock-paper-scissors competition, for which the prize was allegedly a Nintento DSi! I had to go soon after that but was given a big wall calendar as a farewell gift. All in all, a lovely event, but full of things I didn't quite understand...

A culinary mishap

I may have made a bit of a culinary blunder. I was innocently trying to make a beef stew, kind of freestyling the recipe, having consulted Saint Delia beforehand and decided none of her many options quite matched what I had in mind and in fridge. I merrily poured in a good glug of exhibit A, below, and added some chopped onions to sauté:

I thought this was some kind of vegetable oil - after all, it's the right colour, right type of container, right size bottle, right kind of price in the supermarket. I didn't understand the characters on the label, but how much is there to understand about vegetable oil?

Then my onions turned black. If I had been able to smell, I could have instantly understood the problem, but as my last post outlined, I have a stinking cold and consequently have lost my sense of smell more or less entirely until my nose unblocks itself. I couldn't understand what was happening, except that the 'oil' was a fair bit thinner and less viscous than I expected...

It was only when I turned the bottle round that I saw this:

I had, in fact, poured alcoholic mirin rice wine into the pan. Luckily, the stove did not erupt into a blazing inferno, although the onions looked scorched beyond recognition. I lost almost all hope for the stew. The lesson for today, kids, is never to forget to check your ingredients for alcohol content. Booze is good, but only in the right circumstances...

*****

Postscript: As far as I could taste (not very much), the stew seemed to be fine; Dad claimed it was nice too, though he may just have been trying to be kind...

Lurgy, cardboard and hats

I'm writing this from my metaphorical sickbed - which is actually a
sofa - as I have a nasty cold. At least, that's what I assume - as a
treat later I might let myself look on NHS Direct to see what other
horrendous illness I might have. Sometimes you have to be a
bit creative with the truth when it comes to symptoms, but I can
normally make it claim I have something dramatic-sounding. Anyway, for
my (possibly misdiagnosed) cold, I blame the people on the train
without masks. Lots of people wear them, I think mostly because
they're paranoid about swine flu, though there's a general consensus
that they're a Good Thing. (I nearly wrote 'a Good Thong' there, but
that's something altogether different) Someone must have sneezed over
me and infected me; I hope they're sorry. I might miss my trip to the
sake distillery tomorrow, which would make me really cross.

I was taken to task by Kinno-san, the lady who lives in room 101 (101
Wako Heights is an address with considerable comic potential, don't
you think?), regarding cardboard. Dad and I had left our cardboard to
be collected tomorrow under the sign that announced collection days
around the corner, but this was 'batsu', said Kinno. Now, I don't know
much Japanese yet, but the word for 'wrong' was one I memorised very
early on, as it crops up a lot in school... With much gesturing, Kinno
showed me the precise area of paving inside the gate where I was to
leave my cardboard, whence she would move it tomorrow. I don't quite
know why it will be her moving it - is it her job? Is she just a
kindly neighbour with a fondness for bins? I fear I may never find out.

On Thursday, I managed to elicit the famous Japanese expression of
surprise - the eyes widen, a long 'eeeeeh?' sound is made and, in
extreme cases, a slightly quivering finger is pointed at the shocking
object or situation in question - from all three of my teachers at
school. Admittedly, I was wearing a Christmas tree hat at the time,
but this is definitely not the first time that someone has worn a
comedy hat to class. Dad had brought a selection of Yuletide headwear
with him for us to use as costumes for our upcoming Christmas play
(which was slated to be 'Crimbo with Posh & Becks', though the hats
might trigger some revisions) and I couldn't resist taking them in
with me so we could try. them all on. Two of the teachers asked, in
quite an earnest voice, 'Is it a tradition in England to give hats at
Christmas time?' They looked a little disappointed when the others
said 'no, that's just Max's family.' I got the last laugh, though,
when I innocently slipped on my Aretha Franklin wig (you remember the
infamous Back to Nature bop costume?) halfway through the lesson...
One teacher doubled over the desk in laughter. I thought I looked
quite fetching.

From Disney to the Racecourse

I am a bad person for not writing on this for so long. Let me repent with tales of recent activities:

I'm still kind of regretting not buying the leopard-print Mickey Mouse ears to mark the occasion, but on Friday evening I went to Disneyland. I can hear you saying 'aren't you a bit old for that?' and 'since when have you liked Disney, or indeed any animation?', but I think you're all just jealous. The secret of enjoying the experience was to embrace my inner six-year-old and relive the memory of how excited I was to see Snow White's castle in EuroDisney, as it was then, so many years ago. One of the slightly dubious charms of Disney is that there is more or less exact replication between parks - irrespective of the fact that I was 6000 miles away from Disneyland Paris, the castle was exactly the same. What was better than before, though, was that various edgier films than Snow White have come out the Disney studios in recent years, which have in turn created more adult-friendly spin-off rides. I think my favourite was the classic Space Mountain, closely rivalled by Thunder Mountain (incidentally, why are the three biggest rides all called *** Mountain? Is there a prevalence of mountains in Disney films that I never noticed?), but everything was wonderful in an innocent, high-on-toffee-popcorn kind of way.

Yesterday there was the altogether more earthly attraction of Tokyo Racecourse, where there were lots of apparently important horse races going on. I didn't have the faintest idea how to judge form, so I tended to plump for whichever horse looked like it was keen for a run in the paddock when placing my grand total of two 200 yen bets (so a total of less than 3 pounds spent, hardly breaking the bank). I also proved to be a complete dunce at understanding how different kinds of bets worked, which I think actually says good things about my lack of prior gambling experiences! Unsurprisingly, I didn't win anything. I think the best way to view these kinds of things is as part of an entry fee to enjoy the atmosphere - it's undeniable that I enjoyed watching the races and participating in that atmosphere more because I had a (small) stake in which horse won, but it's foolhardy to view it as anything more than that. Any winnings are an unlikely bonus that can't be relied upon or expected. That way, I can (I think) square enjoying the day yesterday with the lingering remnants of Presbyterian anti-gambling instincts that come with my Scottish blood.

Today I ate a particularly delicious yet unlikely-sounding tart: caramelised pineapple on top of macerated raspberries on top of crème patissière, resting on a crisp sablé pastry base. It was amazing. If I had enough pastry chef skill to make that, I think I would die content with my life's work.

Dad's coming to visit on Wednesday for a week which will be lovely. There will be fishing in a river (actually a canal), for the second time in my life, in Ichigaya - if anyone saw the fish documentary on BBC4 a while back, you'll have seen where I mean; if not, see http://www.adamhollis.co.uk/page17.htm (written by someone who got the Daiwa Scholarship two years before me, incidentally). There may also be sea fishing, at which point I plan to opt out discreetly with the intention of not freezing to death. Perhaps there will be a trip out of Tokyo or two as well.

More soon, I promise...

Mental voice of rebellion

I have an appointment to go to a class about Hispanic culture at Hosei University on Monday afternoon. The professor has asked me to prepare a short talk in Spanish about myself. There is a small but persistent voice of rebellion in my head that wants to slip in something unexpected. Any ideas? It can't be anything too crazy, given that the professor will definitely understand whatever I say, but I'd like to have a little something that just a few of the students get which will have them thinking 'did he just say what I think he said?!'

An immigrant's tale

It was a dark and stormy night. Well, almost. It was foggy and shivery and grey and was drizzling with the kind of rain that sneaks under your umbrella (should you have an umbrella, which I didn't). I had trekked through all of Shibuya station trying to find the elusive Rinkai line, and had finally found it and had to wait ten minutes, which is a long time by Tokyo railway standards, but anyway, I digress. I arrived at a glossy new station and was all hopeful that things would work out well.

This favourable impression faded somewhat as I walked across a bridge next to a motorway onto an island that had been reclaimed from the sea. I'm still new enough in Japan to think that this concept is quite exciting, but judging from today's experience, the main consequence of reclaiming land from the sea is that the weather just whips right in and gets you as if you were on a small boat mid-ocean. I was trotting along the road, following the map round - it wasn't a Google map, which made me nervous, as this often means they just forget unimportant details like roads and buildings. The road curved round to the left, skirting a hulking power station as it did so. I kept walking and reassured myself that, although my only landmarks were the aforementioned (fossil fuel) power station and various less than scenic shipping depots, complete with several lorries almost driving into me, I was en route. After all, I reasoned, who would put the central immigration office somewhere that was hard to find, when so many clueless foreigners would need to find it?

When they put the office on the side of the immigration prison, of course! Silly me. I eventually found the godforsaken place and walked in to hear a slightly menacing orchestral rendition of I Vow to Thee, My Country playing on a loop. Just the atmosphere you want in a place full of foreigners: make sure they know where they stand. Trembling somewhat - I'm sure that was the intention - I went up to Zone D, the re-entry permit area.

(I should interject here to explain that, if you're in Japan on anything other than the basic tourist stamp in the passport, as I am with my pre-college student visa, despite the fact that I have four years of a degree behind me, you have to apply for permission to leave the country at any point during the visa. Failing to do so means no more school until you get a new visa - potentially months later - and all manner of other hideous complications.)

Being the gadabout that you all know and love, I was plumping for the multiple re-entry option, which operates on the 'buy two trips' worth and travel as much as you like' principle. Seemed a good deal (relatively) to me: pay my forty quid and be done with the whole process. I settled down in front of the widescreen golf (??) to wait for my turn at the counter. Forty minutes passed and then my number came up on the LED screen. I duly got up, put my jacket on and walked the ten metres from the chairs to the desk, taking up a valuable ten to fifteen seconds. By then, the desk lady had moved on to the number after me. When I brandished my ticket in protest, she rattled off some fast Japanese at me which was, almost certainly, along the lines of 'if you choose to be lazy and not queue up five numbers before yours is called, what do you expect? Stand there and I'll call you up when I'm good and ready, and not before.'

Eventually my time came. I meekly put all my documents on the counter, making sure she could see them all. She took one bit of paper and ignored the others. She made me cross out where the school had stamped the sheet to say they'd approved it - weird, but up to her, I suppose, though why was she incapable of crossing it out herself? Maybe she couldn't write. That must be it. She then shrilly said 'gakuseisho!' (student card) at me, which was on the desk, as before. I did a mini-bow (I can't help myself) and passed it over. Then she pointed to the box where I had ticked 'multiple re-entry', and mimed a crossing action. At this, I took umbrage.

'Pre-college student!' she proclaimed. I thought for a second and failed the grasp the significance of this. Eventually, I discerned that pre-college students are apparently not allowed multiple re-entries, only single re-entries. This means I have to get the school to issue me a studentship certificate - which involves my filling out a form, getting it stamped by my teacher, the fees office and the admin office, as well as paying them 300 yen), fill out the long and complex main application form, pay 3000 yen for a stamp and put it all together, then go to the immigration office next to the detention centre, miles from anywhere I would normally go, each time I plan to go abroad. Kind of kills spontenaiety. What got me more than anything, though, was that this was the first I had heard of this rule.

'Is there a leaflet or website that explains the rules?' I asked. 'I would like to understand the rules for the future.'

She looked at me with a bemused glare. I said it again, slowly (I should confess I was speaking English here - there is no way at all I could attempt this kind of assertiveness in Japanese yet). She continued to look puzzled and angry. Eventually, she said 'leaflet?' with a suspicious tone. 'Yes, or a website,' I replied. She jabbed a finger downwards and said 'information!' in a final-sounding voice. 'On the first floor?' I asked, pushing my luck. 'Yes!' she proclaimed as she pushed the button to summon the next lamb to the slaughter.

The woman at the information desk had at least been on the customer care course, or at least the 'don't be aggressive to people' section. She too was perplexed by the request to see rules in writing, though. She suggested going back to see the ogres in Section D, and was flummoxed when I said they had told me to talk to her. Eventually, after repeating the word 'website' about six more times, she wrote down the department's website. 'I have no idea whether they talk about re-entry permits there, though,' she cautioned. A slight shame that she didn't know, given that she was on the information desk and was therefore meant to be giving information, but at least she tried.

Having looked through the website, they've cunningly put the re-entry section as 'under construction'. I can't find mention anywhere on the internet of the rule that says pre-college students may not have multiple re-entry permits. For all I know, ogre at Desk D was making it all up as she went along, just for kicks. Anyway, they're grudgingly letting me come home for Christmas, but other trips might be a different story.

Sorry for all that anger; I had to vent somewhere! It brings back memories of my five trips to the Oficina de Extranjeros in Murcia trying to register myself as a foreigner. Why is it that this kind of thing is so hard to achieve? Surely if you make it too user-unfriendly and complicated then people will be less inclined to bother with the legal way of doing things at all... Or is that just the latent anarchist in me talking?

Important Picture(s)

I never get tired of posting pictures of me with important people... voici us with the current and former chairman respectively of the Daiwa group. Probably not so exciting for everyone else, but don't we look nice in our suits? Apparently the painting behind us is famous in the Japanese art world, and this is the original, but I am ashamed to say I can't remember who it's by or what it's called. Any ideas? Maggie, I'm looking at you...

Doing the Dishes to Music

I'm slowly refining my theory on what makes good washing-up music. There's definitely more to it than 'you have to be able to sing along', because I can sing along to He's Got The Whole World In His Hands (which was playing in a bar under the railway arches in Yurakucho yesterday, entertainingly) yet I don't think that would work. Similarly, 'it has to be up-tempo' doesn't completely work, either: I'm currently listening to the Fatboy Slim remix of Brimful of Asha by Cornershop and it's all a bit too cool to go with marigolds. Catatonia's Road Rage came up on my iPod's shuffle earlier and that was perfect, mainly because I could sing along lustily in a faux-Welsh accent. Is there a single rule that can sum up all the things that make for Fairy liquid-compatible songs? Answers on a postcard.

Cheap airfares

Just a quick prod to alert you all to the British Airways Sale, on for economy seats until 17 November and valid for travel in January, February and March. Tickets to Tokyo are 539 pounds, which is a very good price... I'm not on commission, I promise! I just like having visitors. You're always welcome to the futon on my kitchen floor, so book soon. I'll be in Tokyo from January 10 on; I have school holidays from 20 March (and my birthday on 27 March...) but there is also a bank holiday on 11 February, and visitors are welcome even during term - it may surprise you to learn that I don't study all the time...

A few of Victoria's pictures from Tsukiji and Nikko

Tsukiji's reward for early risers

Very big fish

(a small part of) the Autumn Festival Procession

Photographs of photographs: metaphotographs?

Where in the world...?

Verbs beginning with K

Almost every verb I have learned so far in Japanese seems to start with 'k'. So far we've accumulated kakimasu, kikimasu, kaemasu, kaerimasu, karimasu, kashimasu, kakemasu, kimasu, kakarimasu, kaeshimasu and kirimasu. It's getting beyond a joke.

I now have a sofa and fridge! I'm gradually approaching the point where I have most of the things I need. Still on the list, though, are a shelving unit on which to put my rice cooker, kettle and (yet to be bought) toaster, a folding dining table and a rail to turn the futon cupboard into a makeshift wardrobe. I also still have tons of jobs to do - many of them lingering from the list at the weekend (whoops!). Once it's looking a bit better I shall take some pictures and put them up here.

Fuji-san and 'illegitimacy'

I am now the proud owner of a washing machine. It has glue scabs on top but I love it anyway. I am a little alarmed that the only connection involved appeared to be jamming a flimsy-looking plastic hose onto a tap that comes out of the wall, and a bit of plastic that looks like it's been stolen from a vacuum cleaner being shoved into a plug in the floor. I always thought this kind of thing had to be done by a plumbing professional, but the removals guy who delivered it was perfectly confident to connect it himself. On his head be it if my kitchen floor floods...

Little-known fact of the day: under the Japanese constitution, children born out of wedlock in Japan (the word 'illegitimate' is used prominently) are entitled to only half the inheritance rights of those born within a marriage. Astounding. That and more came as part of a lecture on the koseki system of family registration, which took a little while to get going but was actually a really good insight into various aspects of the politics of personal identity. In Britain I had never really connected issues such as gender status, surnames, inheritance and shotgun weddings, but in Japan it's possible to connect them all through analysing how the family registration scheme works. I am profoundly grateful that I never have to fill in the form (unless I naturalise and become a Japanese citizen), apart from anything else because it looks fiendishly difficult to understand.

I know it's still over two months away, but I wondered if anyone had given thought to what's happening at New Year? I only ask because someone mentioned New Year plans earlier today and I got to pondering what I'm doing, given that it will be one of my few appearances in the UK in the near future.

We had a very exciting moment in morning break today, when we trooped up to the rooftop of the school building and were rewarded with a startlingly clear view of Mount Fuji looming over the buildings in the hinterland between it and Tokyo. Lots and lots of places claim to have this view, but it's quite rare to actually see it - it tends to be visible only in the mornings and in exceptionally good weather. There was (apparently) a typhoon somewhere off in the Sea of Japan, which caused a day of continuous rain and wind here in Tokyo yesterday. I can only conclude, with my distinctly limited meteorological knowledge, that all the bad weather was somehow used up and we were left with clear blue skies... geographers (or those better informed than me), enlighten me, please...

Also, is it bad that I've now gone to the same cafe for breakfast enough times that they know my order without having to ask? I feel faintly profligate but justify it to myself on the grounds that I do study as I sip my espresso and blood orange juice (not at the same time), and also because I have yet to have a fridge that works, though that will soon change. I fear that now the rot has set in, I might just carry on going there on the way to school.

Final plea: any suggestions for which iPhone apps I just can't live without? At present I'm intrigued but bewildered - any suggestions welcome.

Dubious noodles

So much for my saying more was coming soon... apologies for the delay. I did temporarily lose my laptop power cable (I found it cowering under a duvet at the back of the cupboard), if that's any consolation.

I'm distinctly underwhelmed by my air-conditioning-cum-heater thing. It's meant to be two in one magic (or so the estate agent said), but it's suddenly got all autumnal and cold here and the machine is not cutting it so far - it hums and flashes but the air is definitely not 22 degrees Celsius.

I also had one of the first bad experiences of my 'order something you can't read and see what you get' strategy of ordering off Japanese menus. I knew it would be udon noodles, because that's all the restaurant did (though I think I overheard the couple next to me ordering tempura... jealous!), and it had the word 'miso', meaning soup, but beyond that I hadn't a clue. It came with two white slabs, about an inch across, two inches long and half an inch thick, which didn't taste unpleasant but equally didn't taste of anything much. The weird thing was the texture - they were really chewy, but in a Chewits kind of way - they stuck to your teeth and were a bit hard to swallow. Given that the other ingredients in the noodle bowl were pork-based, I have a horrible feeling that they were bits of lard. Having never eaten slabs of lard before (the one time I nearly did, in Spain, I was so freaked out by the bristles I found in the soup that I had to dispose of it all immediately), I can't be certain, but still, not so good. There were also scallop-sized white globs which were soft and tasted quite nice. At the time I fooled myself into thinking they were some kind of shellfish, but in retrospect I think I was in denial - they must have been more succulent fat from some other part of the pig. I guess that for what it was it was well-made - it's a really cosy little husband-and-wife restaurant, and everything smells delicious - and the broth that the noodles were in had a real depth of meaty flavour; it's just a shame about the pig fat.

I had to have coffee and cake to recover. Tokyo is blessed with lots of exquisite little patisseries, and in Higashi-matsubara there's one which doubles as a very nice tearoom. The lady running it was lovely, but the French labels on the cake were evidently an affectation: attempting to order 'gateau de pommes et noix' got me nowhere, so I had to resort to getting up and pointing. There seems to be an unwritten rule that all slices of cake in Japan must have a wrapper made of silver foil covering all bits of the cake that might have been in contact with other slices. I don't understand why, but I applaud the ingenuity of using muffin cases in a clever origami fashion to wrap the cake up. Those of you who have seen my attempts at origami will know that cake-wrapping is another career that's not for me...

I have a to-do list on my desk and it's glaring at me. So far I've done five and a half things out of twenty-four. I recognise that this does not represent good progress. I think I'll try to do most of the cleaning-related things today - spurred on by a cleaning-products-buying binge in the 100 yen shop (think Poundland but so much more), I'm in the right frame of mind. Assembling the flatpack bookcase and trying to get a bin system going to cope with the extremely complicated recycling rules might have to wait.

Right, I should go and do something productive, preferably from the list... though I also have a shirt to iron in preparation for meeting the current and previous chairmen of Daiwa Securities (the bank who put up the money for the Scholarship) tomorrow after school. Lots of bowing will be involved, I should have thought. We also have to do a brief self-introduction in Japanese, which will be less fun, but I'm sure it will all be fine. The week after (or next week if you count weeks starting on Sundays, as happens in Japan and Oxford) I'm off for the bank holiday to the Daiwa Securities board members' corporate retreat in Hakone, next to Mount Fuji, complete with its own luxury onsen hot spring bath...

Two kinds of pilgrimage

Apologies for the long delay in writing this - the internet won't be connected to my flat until Thursday, and although I got an iPhone on Sunday, I don't yet have the necessary precision in my fingertips to write a whole blog post with a small touchscreen keyboard!

Lots has happened since my last post - Victoria came to stay for a little while, and we went to Tsukiji fish market and Nikko. I've wanted to go to Tsukiji for years - I remember visiting the Sydney fish market in 2005 but nothing compares to the Japanese version, the biggest in the world. It's all over at Tsukiji by 11am each day, and to see the best of it you need to get there very early. We arrived at 7.00 and a few places were already packing up, but we still saw a lot - it was astonishing. There were tuna as big as me lying on enormous wooden slabs, being sliced up with massive band saws - I've only ever seen those used for woodwork before, never fish! As we walked past, an eel two feet long with a deep gash in its neck wriggled at us... there were gigantic crabs, blowfish, lobsters and clams live in tanks. Everywhere you walk there are miniature electric trucks zooming around you - crossing an aisle means taking your life in your hands. After we'd looked around for a while, we went for a sushi breakfast - the best sushi I've eaten in a very long time. It's not cheap but the fish is the absolute best quality, and the fish spills over the rice in very generous portions. The restaurant we were in was very quiet so the chef (in a mixture of slow Japanese and bits of English, with lots of pointing and other gesticulation) explained what everything was for us and dressed some of the sushi for us. The sea urchin (uni) was wonderful - I'd never tasted it before, and its bright orange colour and gloopy texture didn't initially seem all that appealing, but it had a rich marine flavour and was just delicious. Pictures to follow if I can purloin them from Victoria when I see her next month. I'm already planning a trip back, perhaps in time to see the legendary tuna auctions this time, although that would mean getting there at 5.00am, before any of the trains start running... I appreciate that my getting up this early may seem somewhat unlikely to you, if you've seen me struggling to get to 9.00am lectures, but I think I have it in me if it comes with a sushi reward.

Nikko was gorgeous - a pilgrimage town about two hours north of Tokyo, it's set amongst wooded mountains at the edge of a national park. The annual autumn festival was on Saturday - 800 people dressed in various traditional costumes, including samurai-wear and a few people dressed as 'evil magistrates' (that was how the English-speaking announcer described them, at least), some riding stallions, paraded up the hill from the town to the biggest shrine complex at the top of the hill. Victoria and I managed to nab a prime viewing spot right next to the main tori (ceremonial gate) so we could see the whole thing coming up the hill. The shrines themselves were breathtaking - there was a curious mixture of majestically large things, like the ornate inner gate at Toshogu (which is also the mausoleum of Tokugawa Ieyasu, the founder of the shogunate that ruled Japan for 250 years until the Meiji restoration of 1868) and very delicate things, such as the wooden carvings of 'see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil' monkeys. We also visited the Rinnoji Buddhist temple which was serene and beautiful. Again, I wish I could put some pictures up - coming soon, I promise! After a solid few hours being dutiful tourists,　we felt we deserved a treat, and the Rough Guide alerted us to the former holiday home of an American diplomat, which is now a very smart teahouse. Proper strong coffee and very good chocolate gateau, taken on the terrace looking out over a garden filled with trees that were turning golden for autumn, was the perfect end to a great day.

More when I get the internet in my flat - stay tuned...

Another day, another enormous misunderstanding with comic consequences. We were role-playing the buying of cake in a patisserie - a very important situation to be able to cope with - and the teacher, Ueno-sensei, was pretending to be the customer. I was supposed to be the shopkeeper, but didn't grasp that from what she said. She beckoned to the front of the class, but in the Japanese style, with hands flapping downwards, which I mistakenly thought meant I should crouch on the floor... she looked absolutely horrified. I did ask in English what I was meant to do, because I know she speaks excellent English, but she's not allowed to use any English in the classroom, so just replied in Japanese that I didn't understand, hence my reading of her gestures as 'get down!' rather than 'get cake!'...

The typhoon came and went with no consequences in Tokyo other than a windy start to the morning on Wednesday. There was more damage elsewhere in Japan, and I think a few rail lines were temporarily closed around here, but I saw nothing different at all. There's been absolutely gorgeous Indian summer weather ever since the typhoon - we've (not very scientifically) concluded that the low pressure of the typhoon has sucked up all the nasty rain, leaving us with beautiful sunshine. Any geographers out there who can tell me if that's true?

I've booked internet connection for my flat for 22 October, which means I'll only be without a connection for just over a week. In that time I'll have to make do with internet access at school, which shouldn't be too bad. I'm planning on getting a mobile phone that can send emails quite soon, so I'll pass on new contact details forthwith. I also have Skype - max.irving - do feel free to call me (though not at 4 in the morning, please).

It's been a productive few days food-wise as well. Yesterday we had a wonderful lunch of okonomi-yaki, which is a filled pancake with cabbage, egg, spring onions and a range of toppings - I had pork and mixed shellfish, which turned out to be luscious fat scallops, morsels of cuttlefish and an enormous king prawn - cooked in front of you on a hot plate, served with a spatula and dressed with garlic mayonnaise and special sauce (like a thick mixture of Lea & Perrins and hoisin sauce). Today we had a classic (by British standards) curryhouse lunch, with amazing all you can eat enormous naan bread, pilau rice and some very good mutton and lentil curry - they had more familiar-looking things as well! I had thought I would miss curry, as I definitely did whilst in Spain, but this place, Samrat, is a real find.

I have a language buddy arranged for me at Hosei University, whom I should meet on Monday. So far I doubt I will have much of interest to say - there are only so many things you can say along the lines of 'what is under the chair?' or 'how much is it for one slice of cheesecake?' - but it will be good to have someone to practise with.

To end, I should say that the above is a picture of us outside school, taken before we knew quite what we had let ourselves in for...

Typhoons and Turtles (nearly)

I want to start this post with a lament for my shoes. My best umbrella efforts notwithstanding, and despite having been sprayed before leaving England's temperate climes, my shoes now have a horrid grey water line about halfway up the top, from the incessant rain there's been over the past three days. Incessant because tomorrow there is (apparently) going to be a typhoon! Exciting and nervewracking in equal measure. At the end of lessons today at Naganuma school (where I learn, or at least attempt to learn, Japanese every morning) there was the standard Big Ben bell sequence, which marks the beginning and end of each class, and then an announcement in quickfire Japanese, of which the only word we understood was 'taifu' (guess). The teacher then explained that, although the typhoon is expected to make landfall tomorrow during the day, lessons would continue as normal. I asked what happened if the typhoon struck while we were there and the teacher said that, if we were in the eye of the typhoon, it would be remarkably calm and we could easily get back. Of course, if we're not in the eye of the storm then we might just have to stay in school until it clears up a bit. Great. The word is that it's unlikely to be more than a heavy rainstorm - no serious Philippines-style destruction is forecast - but still, I have a flat rental contract to sign tomorrow...

We also had an induction session and welcome party at Hosei University, where we'll be attending a series of special lectures given just for us scholars until December. It's a huge university, one of the 'big six' which are all prestigious institutions in Tokyo. I'm going to get a Japanese language buddy so we can both practise, and apparently I'll also be assigned a faculty member 'in a field close to my own' - though they're a bit worried about that as they don't really teach linguistics. I don't mind, though, it's not as if I need to go to a lab or anything like a research scientist might want to. There might be an interesting lecture or two to attend, though at this rate I won't have any time left to do anything else! Still, it's good that there are so many opportunities. It was nice to meet some students at the party as well.

This afternoon there was a lecture (another one!) given by Professor Arthur Stockwin, general authority on all things political and Japanese and one of the people who interviewed me for the scholarship. Three of us decided to be groupies and go - it was interesting, so I'm glad we did - and we got a commemorative photo in true Japanese style to mark the occasion.

I've also been alerted to a slightly disturbing trait I didn't realise I had until recently. For some reason, I seem incapable of remembering the Japanese for 'could you say that again, please?', a phrase I often need to say in class. The only thing I can normally think of to convey this is an inquisitive 'mmmm?' sound, accompanied by raised eyebrows and an upward jerk of the head. It's been compared to the gesture a turtle might make when coming out the water (?!). It's now got to the point where all five of the others crack up if I do this, which makes me forget what little I've understood of the question anyway. I'm yet to go a whole day without doing the move by mistake, but I'm aiming to have a turtle-nod-free day before the end of the week. Watch this space...

I have a flat!

Very exciting news... I won't be homeless! The landlord of the flat I liked has just got back to me and told me I can move in from Tuesday 13 October. I would have preferred it to be a little earlier, as that's the day before I have to check out from the hotel, and apparently I'm not allowed to store anything inside before that date, even though it's completely empty, but I'm not complaining (much). I'll email the address to everyone as soon as I can find the bit of paper that has it written in the Roman alphabet. I'll also post some photos if I can borrow someone's camera, so you can see the 'before' shots; once I get a mobile (which shouldn't be too long now I have an address) I can take my own photos.

Now the shopping starts in earnest... when they say 'unfurnished' here, that means you have to buy a hob, lights, curtains... Luckily I have a Japanese volunteer (who's already looked round lots of flats with me and interpreted into English) who's offered to help me buy furniture. I'm hoping to get big appliances like a washing machine and fridge second-hand through the equivalent of Freecycle.

In other news, I went to a very nice glossy shopping centre called Tokyo Midtown yesterday. They have an art gallery on the 2nd floor that specialises in 'art in daily life' - beautiful things that are also useful. The theme of the current exhibition was traditional Japanese paper, washi, which can be used for all sorts of things, from origami cranes to decorative kimono for Shinto festivals. They had some amazing Buddhist sutra scrolls from the 8th century with immaculate calligraphy in gold leaf. Incredible that it's survived this long - when I think back to what dreadful condition many medieval Spanish manuscripts are in these days, it's hard to believe things are in such a good state here.

Academic geekiness aside, I also made significant progress in one of my top priorities: the hunt for a shop in Tokyo that sells Marmite. I know I could just bring some back with me when I come back after Christmas, but there's satisfaction to be had in finding it on sale somewhere in Japan. Precce, a very luxurious supermarket in Tokyo Midtown, sells Vegemite (the Aussie version of Marmite) but not the good stuff. Still, I must be close now.

The view from Roppongi Hills

This is us Scholars, Mr Fujii (an ex-ambassador to the UK, and now chairman of the Mori Arts Museum and trustee of the Daiwa Foundation) and Kono-san, who looks after everything for us out here, on the 51st floor of the Mori tower in Roppongi Hills, the tallest viewpoint in Tokyo. You can see Tokyo Tower (like Blackpool tower in red and white) behind us. Pretty good view!

'Cock Skin in Vinegar' and other stories

Apologies for crudeness in the title - this cracked us all up on a restaurant menu this evening. They also had 'the stew that lasts', 'the cucumber is soaked' and 'fry some cabbage and bacon' (well, if you insist). Excellent.

I've now had two days at Naganuma language school, which have been very intense but OK so far. We have three different teachers, all of them very nice thus far - the ever-obliging and smiling Nishimura-sensei (lots of listen and repeat, which is very comforting when you know virtually nothing like me), the massive Sting fan (?!) Toda-sensei, and Ueno-sensei, who talks even quicker than me. There's an awful lot of information being pumped in all at once, but so far I'm enjoying learning. I dare say I'll be griping soon enough, though! Homework at the moment is handwriting practice, quite like the stuff I remember from the early years of infant school. I'm very slowly getting to grips with hiragana and katakana, the two phonetic syllabaries, and can now *mostly* write down words in dictation (another daily activity) if they're said very slowly and repeated several times! Tomorrow we learn our first kanji (Chinese pictogram characters, normally with several different readings) which will be a challenge.

I have a second viewing of a flat tomorrow - if that goes well and I like it as much as I did the first time, and if the landlord doesn't freak out at my being a foreigner (rental racism is rife, as is alliteration), then I should have a provisional move-in date of 10 October. Very exciting! I don't want to get my hopes up too much though, just in case something goes wrong. I'll gladly let you know my address as soon as it's confirmed.

Three of us scholars have been getting futons and other bits and pieces through Sayonara Sales (one of your favourite words, Will G!), the nearest equivalent in Japan to Freecycle, led by Charlotte, scavenger in chief. Yesterday I carried a double futon almost as tall as me, and a lot wider, on three metro lines across the city. Apparently the only bits of me you could see were my hands and feet; otherwise I looked like a walking futon. Today was comparatively easy, with just a single futon on two metro lines. I should note here that Japanese futons don't have a wooden base - designed to go on softer tatami mats, so they don't need one - which is how we managed to transport them, but still, I feel very virtuous for doing so much heavy lifting.

I also went to a proper karaoke bar for the first time - a true Japanese experience. We went after our welcome drinks with the scholars from the year above us... it was fun, overall, though my microphone was accidentally turned off during 'Back for Good' so my practice from the many times I've watched the TCBC video kind of went in vain. We're planning another trip with all of us (not everyone came) some time soon. I will make sure there is no Cher-esque video evidence.

I also have a new laptop! I lost patience and bought a Toshiba one which was on sale for just under 70,000 yen (around 450 pounds) because it was already set up with an English-language operating system and seemed to have quite good specs, from what little I know about computers. It has an inbuilt webcam that does facial recognition, which is very exciting, and apparently it has a very advanced new generation USB drive. I must confess that I have yet to make use of this, but there's plenty of time yet...

First Impressions

Hello everybody,

As suggested by Olly (I think?) and promised by me, here's a blog to keep you all up to date with my manic adventures in Japan. This should be much simpler than my old habit of enormous group emails - please do carry on emailing me, I promise to reply, I just want to streamline things a little.

I went laptop computer shopping today, which was... intense. So much noise and garish posters everywhere, as well as tons of people - my own fault for going on a Saturday afternoon. It would have helped if I had known exactly what I wanted, but I'm far from being a techie expert! The cheapest ones were Lenovo, the Chinese brand, but I think I'd probably rather go a bit more upmarket. The best deal looked to be in a shop called Labi, with a Sony Vaio N type for 49,800 yen (about £350) - that's the most basic model, and you can customise it with added extras. I ran out of energy to decide which, if any, of these I wanted, plus things are complicated by some of the options being 'sold' (presumably sold out?). If I went for the cheapest option marked as available (which means getting a better processor, more hard disk space and Blu-ray reader), that would be a total of 81,800 yen - £572, quite a price difference! Still not a bad price overall, I think, but I don't feel like I know anything any more. And the operating system would be in Japanese - apparently it is possible to change it over to English, but that would invalidate the warranty. Not sure if my credit card automatic warranty would count over here either. Aargh!

Sorry for that rather dull technical paragraph; onto more accessible matters. I'm having a good time so far - it's been really hectic and today is the first day we haven't had various things timetabled for us to do. Tokyo in some ways lives up to its 'ultimate big city' reputation - there are millions of people everywhere, the trains are always busy and there always seems to be a lot going on - but in other places it's strangely calm. If I open my window in the hotel there's a very faint hum - which is so discreet it could be air-conditioning units or distant traffic, but nothing obtrusive - overlaid by the sound of cicadas. The view is (when it's light, which it definitely isn't as I write at 6.20pm) of a little garden and the 'smokers' lounge' - which actually consists of some comfy leatherette bench seats, a few tables with built-in ashtrays and a mosquito-killing-light-cum-patio-heater, though it's so warm (20ish degrees at night, more during the day) that no heating is necessary.

The trains are amazing - they all run exactly to time, there are subway stations everywhere and there are clever LCD displays above all the doors that tell you the next station in English, hiragana (a Japanese phonetic syllabary) and kanji (Chinese pictogram characters), as well as bilingual announcements. People cram on but there's a lot of etiquette - mobiles work but it's considered bad manners to actually talk on one, and it's rude to talk beyond a discreetly quiet volume. Lots of people wear surgical masks - it's not entirely clear if this is to protect them from swine flu, general germs or indeed to protect others from their germs, as it's customary to put a mask on if you have a cold. And they have two Oyster-like systems, Pasmo (which I have already) and Suica. They're mostly interchangeable, but Suica, despite meaning 'watermelon', has a penguin logo. At the moment I'm just using the pay as you go function - no cheaper than buying tickets each time but much less hassle, especially as you buy tickets by value, not destination when travelling within Tokyo which means you have to consult complex maps which only label the stations in kanji! When I have a fixed journey from my flat (when I have one, which I hope won't be too long!) to language school, I can prebuy that journey for a heavily discounted price.

Speaking of flats, I've looked at lots of flyers, and have arranged tons of viewings for tomorrow and Monday. I was pleasantly surprised by how (relatively) affordable the kind of flat I want is - it looks like the going rate for around 30 square meters in a good area, 10-15 minutes by train from school, is around 85,000 yen a month (£600). Typically, the one I like the look of most is more expensive - 100,000 yen - but it's 35 square metres, with two really big rooms and a balcony in a modern concrete-based 'manshon' block, which is meant to be sturdier, better insulated and safer in an earthquake than the more traditional wooden-framed 'apato'. It's also only 2 minutes from an express station, though the agent claims it's not next to the railway line... we'll see tomorrow, I guess. Anyway, I don't want to bring bad luck on myself but it looks eminently feasible to find somewhere I like and move in well within the three-week deadline.

I had my first very clumsy moment today... a whole four days after I arrived, so you should all be proud of me for lasting so long! I was in a somewhat dubious fast-food-ish restaurant called First Kitchen, because it was opposite an estate agent I and some of the other scholars were visiting and we didn't have much time. I ordered what I thought was spaghetti in tomato sauce with basil, salad with a poached egg, and Pepsi. It turned out to be spaghetti with fish roe (not sure what species, but it was orange) and crispy seaweed, salad with a raw egg to crack over the top (and a hell of a lot of sweet mayonnaise-like dressing) and Pepsi. I got over the slight shock of that and was then trying to sort my rubbish and dirty dishes according to their complicated recycling bin system. No sooner had I put my tray on top of the bin so I could sort things out then I accidentally nudged it and it flew off and onto the floor, smashing both plates into many, many small pieces, coated in raw egg goo and leftover salad. It must have covered about ten square feet with debris. People looked shocked, and I had no idea what I could do beyond saying 'sorry' repeatedly in Japanese to the man in a uniform who came out from behind the till. He just bowed and said thank you (in English) so I apologised again, in English this time, three or four times and then fled the scene. It was dreadfully embarrassing, and will no doubt be the first of many moments of clumsiness-provoked humiliation, given my propensity to knocking things or myself over.

I think that's probably enough for now - I look forward to hearing from you soon, and I promise to write another post before too long! It should become considerably easier once I have my own computer to use...