Saturday 28 November 2009

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...

Friday 27 November 2009

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.

Monday 23 November 2009

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...

Saturday 14 November 2009

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?!'

Friday 13 November 2009

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?

Thursday 12 November 2009

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...

Tuesday 10 November 2009

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.

Saturday 7 November 2009

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?















Friday 6 November 2009

Where in the world...?