I am as amazed as everyone else that I didn't break myself while snowboarding. I know, the words 'I' and 'snowboarding' are not an obvious combination... but I even managed to be described as a 'fast learner', which is the first and probably last time that phrase will be used about me with respect to sport of any kind. I managed the sideslip thing facing forwards, and tentatively tried it on toe side, facing into the hill. This is another of those times when it would be really good to have eyes in the back of my head, something I really want to develop. Going at about one mile an hour, I slipped into a Japanese girl while trying to slide backwards, and although we were both absolutely fine and I apologied profusely, she gave me a filthy look, which rather put me off doing any more sliding backwards down the slope.
There are two things I would change for next time. Unsurprisingly, number one would be to spend more money and get the bullet train rather than the slow overnight coach. This could have been worse - it didn't match the horror of Alsina Graells' Sevilla to Murcia extravaganza, stopping at every small town en route - but it was Not Fun with capital letters nonetheless. Number two would be to invest in some sort of joint protection. I caught the edge of the board a couple of times and sat down (actually, that sounds like I had a choice: I fell) abruptly, which bruised my coccyx. It still aches a little a week later, so a 'tailbone pad' (sounds very dodgy) would be useful equipment if I were to try again, which I might. I looked on the internet and was bamboozled by the sheer range of products in this vein - as a non-sportsman, I had never before been exposed to the variety of things involving foam, lycra and plastic. Originally I thought I would get a set of three hip and tailbone pads, but then I realised they needed a 'girdle' (which didn't look like what I imagined that to be, more like a pair of cycling shorts with pockets) to sit in, and I think that might be a bit extreme for me... Likewise the dedicated ski/snowboard protector shorts things, which are ideal but cost more money than I want to spend, having been on a piste twice in my life. The compromise option might be a mouldable piece of foam used by figure skaters, which you tuck into thermalwear and which cushions you if (or when, for me) you fall. It looks remarkably low-tech but perhaps it's just what I need.
There was also an excellent onsen (natural hot spring), which had both an inside bath and, excitingly, a really nice outdoor one. There are few things better than soaking aching limbs in a very hot bath while it's freezing cold outside. I think the topic of onsens and Japanese bathing is worthy of more expansive explanation, but that will have to wait for another post...
Sunday 28 February 2010
Thursday 25 February 2010
Monday 8 February 2010
A day at the sumo
I am waiting for the slowest bath in the world ever to fill up and thought this would be a golden opportunity to tell you all about sumo wrestling... obviously my bathing needs come first, but I hope you're pleased to learn that the blog came a very close second.
Sumo was amazing, as you might expect. In classic Japanese expectation-dampening-style, we were warned that the seats we had booked were 'rather far away from the ring' and that we 'might wish to use field glasses'. This had me conjuring up visions of trench warfare and overfed military commanders peering through lenses at their men bayonetting the enemy several kilometres away, over the brow of a hill... but when we got there, we could see perfectly well. The only time you might need the binoculars was if you wanted to have a closer look at the referee's robe - this sounds unlikely but there was one section in which the referee appeared to be wearing leopard-print, which obviously merited closer inspection. Disappointingly, it turned out to be an ornate bird motif, not the aforementioned animal print. Overall the winning costume (we had an ongoing competition for the best-dressed referee) came near the start, and was a shiny gold robe with blue detailing. It wouldn't have looked out of place in a gangsta rap video.
A whole paragraph and I haven't even mentioned the wrestlers yet. They were generally mega-huge by Japanese standards, and most of them were pretty hefty by Western measures too. Just before I came in, there was apparently a bout between a quite small guy and a morbidly obese man, in which the smaller wrestler managed to bury his entire head inside the flab of the other wrestler. The crowd went wild, even more so when the small man managed to use his head to thrust the fatso out the ring. You can't help but get caught up with the feeling of the crowd - the wrestlers egg people on with the ritual throwing of salt into the ring (the prelude to a match, often done several times to psych out the opponent) and occasional strong-man gestures to the audience which transcended language. In that respect it was weirdly similar to World's Strongest Man or, dare I say it, Gladiators. The atmosphere generally was great - people really got into the fights, especially when there was an obvious disparity between the wrestlers or when a favourite was up. At one point the reigning champion was beaten by an underdog, and people threw their seat cushions into the ring in appreciation. The nearest seats to the ring, which I'm sure cost an arm and a leg, are at foot level only a metre or so from the boundary rope. I would fear for my life if I sat there, as the risk of being asphyxiated by sumo flab is not insubstantial.
Possibly the highlight of the day - though that's definitely the wrong word to use here - was the light entertainment between the two divisions of the tournament, when kids aged 7-10 from Tokyo International School came on to tackle a professional wrestler. There were tons of these kids, most of whom seemed to be cherubic and blond, who took on the professional three at a time. He could send them scuttling with one lethargic swipe, and at one point scooped a boy up by his nappy-thong. The poor boy's legs were flailing as the audience went wild. It was horrific but marvellous entertainment, though I fear it may have come at the cost of significant psychological trauma to these small boys.
An interesting phenomenon of wrestling in recent times has been the emergence of non-Japanese wrestlers. Some of the most successful have been Mongolian, but there were even European wrestlers yesterday: you could guess their genetic heritage by the telltale celluloid on their thighs, something that none of the Japanese wrestlers seemed to have, despite their wobbly bellies. This notwithstanding, I'm thinking that sumo wrestling might be a good career move for me - what do you reckon?
Sumo was amazing, as you might expect. In classic Japanese expectation-dampening-style, we were warned that the seats we had booked were 'rather far away from the ring' and that we 'might wish to use field glasses'. This had me conjuring up visions of trench warfare and overfed military commanders peering through lenses at their men bayonetting the enemy several kilometres away, over the brow of a hill... but when we got there, we could see perfectly well. The only time you might need the binoculars was if you wanted to have a closer look at the referee's robe - this sounds unlikely but there was one section in which the referee appeared to be wearing leopard-print, which obviously merited closer inspection. Disappointingly, it turned out to be an ornate bird motif, not the aforementioned animal print. Overall the winning costume (we had an ongoing competition for the best-dressed referee) came near the start, and was a shiny gold robe with blue detailing. It wouldn't have looked out of place in a gangsta rap video.
A whole paragraph and I haven't even mentioned the wrestlers yet. They were generally mega-huge by Japanese standards, and most of them were pretty hefty by Western measures too. Just before I came in, there was apparently a bout between a quite small guy and a morbidly obese man, in which the smaller wrestler managed to bury his entire head inside the flab of the other wrestler. The crowd went wild, even more so when the small man managed to use his head to thrust the fatso out the ring. You can't help but get caught up with the feeling of the crowd - the wrestlers egg people on with the ritual throwing of salt into the ring (the prelude to a match, often done several times to psych out the opponent) and occasional strong-man gestures to the audience which transcended language. In that respect it was weirdly similar to World's Strongest Man or, dare I say it, Gladiators. The atmosphere generally was great - people really got into the fights, especially when there was an obvious disparity between the wrestlers or when a favourite was up. At one point the reigning champion was beaten by an underdog, and people threw their seat cushions into the ring in appreciation. The nearest seats to the ring, which I'm sure cost an arm and a leg, are at foot level only a metre or so from the boundary rope. I would fear for my life if I sat there, as the risk of being asphyxiated by sumo flab is not insubstantial.
Possibly the highlight of the day - though that's definitely the wrong word to use here - was the light entertainment between the two divisions of the tournament, when kids aged 7-10 from Tokyo International School came on to tackle a professional wrestler. There were tons of these kids, most of whom seemed to be cherubic and blond, who took on the professional three at a time. He could send them scuttling with one lethargic swipe, and at one point scooped a boy up by his nappy-thong. The poor boy's legs were flailing as the audience went wild. It was horrific but marvellous entertainment, though I fear it may have come at the cost of significant psychological trauma to these small boys.
An interesting phenomenon of wrestling in recent times has been the emergence of non-Japanese wrestlers. Some of the most successful have been Mongolian, but there were even European wrestlers yesterday: you could guess their genetic heritage by the telltale celluloid on their thighs, something that none of the Japanese wrestlers seemed to have, despite their wobbly bellies. This notwithstanding, I'm thinking that sumo wrestling might be a good career move for me - what do you reckon?
Friday 5 February 2010
Habits and late-night munch fodder
Hello again.
I mentioned this blog in class today, in the context of identifying something I have made a habit of doing. I felt rather guilty when saying this as my blogposts have to date been less than habitual, but there's something about Japanese classes that coaxes all my tall stories and downright lies out my mouth before I can stop myself. I do try and say truthful things most of the time, but I have been caught out many a time by the need to have an instant answer to questions about all manner of personal details. I evidently need a hobby - but not just any hobby, rather one that is easy to say in Japanese and doesn't sound odd. Cookery does the trick, but can sometimes be stolen by other people who are asked the same question before me, so I need a back-up. I'm tempted to look up 'conducting druid ceremonies' and running with that. I am also expected to be able to name something that each of my parents is good at, an added complication being that the adjective in question ('jouzu') only refers to skills and not to knowledge. So I can't say that Dad is 'jouzu' at JFK assassination research, though he undoubtedly is. Try as I might, I cannot remember the Japanese for DIY beyond the fact that it literally translates into English as 'Sunday carpenter' (rather cute, don't you think?), so his skill has been determined as painting. The leading contender for Mum is obviously cookery, but again, that is often stolen by other people in the class. I am sorely tempted to go with 'embroidery' as an answer from now on - I'll leave it to you readers to decide how true that is.
I ate a weird yet wonderful Japanese delicacy last weekend called 'chawan-mushi'. Think creme caramel, but then get rid of the sugar and replace it with soy sauce. Add some fish flakes, cook and then chill until set, and there you have it. I don't know if I would have gone for this had it not come as a standard accompaniment to an AMAZING sushi selection, but I'm certainly glad to have tried it. Can't quite imagine it taking off in the UK, though...
... unlike the other strange yet delicious product I have tried recently: cheese curry naan. Every bit as good as it sounds. It had stringy mozzarella-style cheese atop a slightly smoky, punchy brown curry masala on top of bouncy, fluffy yet still slightly crispy naan. Correct me if I'm wrong here, but none of us eating this naan could remember seeing anything equivalent in British kebab vans or late-night takeaways. Surely this would be a popular product with drunk people after midnight? It's got everything you need - the double hit of fat, in the form of the butter on the naan and the cheese, portability, plus that spicy edge which I think makes it even better than cheesy chips. It would be dirt cheap to make, and would sell like hot cakes (or hot naans....), no? No-one can steal the idea now, I've put out there as jointly mine.
It may amuse those of you who saw me put off playing games of badminton for several years at KCS to learn that I have just bought two rackets and a shuttlecock. This was primarily motivated by the fact that they cost 65p for the lot, and I just couldn't resist the bargain. I am keen to play in the park somewhere but for the fact that I don't yet have any sensible shoes in which to do so. I need to steel myself to deal with the Japanese shoe-buying experience, which entails knowing how big my feet are in centimetres. I'll venture forth to buy some trainers tomorrow and will report back.
I was looking at my bank statement earlier - and forgot to get my traditional comforting cup of something warming to help brace myself, error - and noticed a pesky direct debit from Carphone Warehouse. I may have cancelled my UK mobile contract but that was with Orange, not the bloodsuckers at the CW, who still managed to get some of my money one last time. Given how much I hate this company - I am more than happy to vent my spleen in detail if anyone has not yet heard my tale of woe and is a glutton for punishment, but I'll restrain myself for now - it gave me more pleasure than anything to do with online banking has in ages to cancel that direct debit and write them a terse little note on their website telling them to get rid of the policy. Never again am I going there.
To end on a happier financial note - I get paid very very soon! It may even have been today but if not it will have arrived, I hope, by Monday. We are already plotting where to go to celebrate the money that will imminently be burning holes in pockets...
I mentioned this blog in class today, in the context of identifying something I have made a habit of doing. I felt rather guilty when saying this as my blogposts have to date been less than habitual, but there's something about Japanese classes that coaxes all my tall stories and downright lies out my mouth before I can stop myself. I do try and say truthful things most of the time, but I have been caught out many a time by the need to have an instant answer to questions about all manner of personal details. I evidently need a hobby - but not just any hobby, rather one that is easy to say in Japanese and doesn't sound odd. Cookery does the trick, but can sometimes be stolen by other people who are asked the same question before me, so I need a back-up. I'm tempted to look up 'conducting druid ceremonies' and running with that. I am also expected to be able to name something that each of my parents is good at, an added complication being that the adjective in question ('jouzu') only refers to skills and not to knowledge. So I can't say that Dad is 'jouzu' at JFK assassination research, though he undoubtedly is. Try as I might, I cannot remember the Japanese for DIY beyond the fact that it literally translates into English as 'Sunday carpenter' (rather cute, don't you think?), so his skill has been determined as painting. The leading contender for Mum is obviously cookery, but again, that is often stolen by other people in the class. I am sorely tempted to go with 'embroidery' as an answer from now on - I'll leave it to you readers to decide how true that is.
I ate a weird yet wonderful Japanese delicacy last weekend called 'chawan-mushi'. Think creme caramel, but then get rid of the sugar and replace it with soy sauce. Add some fish flakes, cook and then chill until set, and there you have it. I don't know if I would have gone for this had it not come as a standard accompaniment to an AMAZING sushi selection, but I'm certainly glad to have tried it. Can't quite imagine it taking off in the UK, though...
... unlike the other strange yet delicious product I have tried recently: cheese curry naan. Every bit as good as it sounds. It had stringy mozzarella-style cheese atop a slightly smoky, punchy brown curry masala on top of bouncy, fluffy yet still slightly crispy naan. Correct me if I'm wrong here, but none of us eating this naan could remember seeing anything equivalent in British kebab vans or late-night takeaways. Surely this would be a popular product with drunk people after midnight? It's got everything you need - the double hit of fat, in the form of the butter on the naan and the cheese, portability, plus that spicy edge which I think makes it even better than cheesy chips. It would be dirt cheap to make, and would sell like hot cakes (or hot naans....), no? No-one can steal the idea now, I've put out there as jointly mine.
It may amuse those of you who saw me put off playing games of badminton for several years at KCS to learn that I have just bought two rackets and a shuttlecock. This was primarily motivated by the fact that they cost 65p for the lot, and I just couldn't resist the bargain. I am keen to play in the park somewhere but for the fact that I don't yet have any sensible shoes in which to do so. I need to steel myself to deal with the Japanese shoe-buying experience, which entails knowing how big my feet are in centimetres. I'll venture forth to buy some trainers tomorrow and will report back.
I was looking at my bank statement earlier - and forgot to get my traditional comforting cup of something warming to help brace myself, error - and noticed a pesky direct debit from Carphone Warehouse. I may have cancelled my UK mobile contract but that was with Orange, not the bloodsuckers at the CW, who still managed to get some of my money one last time. Given how much I hate this company - I am more than happy to vent my spleen in detail if anyone has not yet heard my tale of woe and is a glutton for punishment, but I'll restrain myself for now - it gave me more pleasure than anything to do with online banking has in ages to cancel that direct debit and write them a terse little note on their website telling them to get rid of the policy. Never again am I going there.
To end on a happier financial note - I get paid very very soon! It may even have been today but if not it will have arrived, I hope, by Monday. We are already plotting where to go to celebrate the money that will imminently be burning holes in pockets...
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