flashback: Yoyogi Park

taken from notebook [mar. 16]



Yesterday, Sunday. Sun all day, no clouds, perfect spring weather. Yoyogi park was teeming with all sorts of characters again. The boy with the guitar was still singing Beatles covers with a thick accent, the "greasers" still hanging out at the entrance. The only thing that seemed different about the park was the noticeable lack of pink blossoms on the far corner of the large field area. Oh well, cherry blossom season is about to start anyways.

Frisbee-throwing attendees: Ayane, Dan, Erika, myself. I must admit, I had a great time yesterday. Everything about Yoyogi was perfect, the weather glorious, the people fun and lively. The season of spring has officially begun, according to my senses. There's always that one specific day that rings in the entrance of a new season. A harbringer announcing the grand entrance of spring - this was sunday. Frisbee and friends; sun and sky; grass and green; laziness and laughter. I can't really say anymore than this .

Apparently, I can throw a frisbee without totally failing. It's good to know. We were all supposed to go to the St. Patricks Day Parade in Harajuku, hence Bernadette and Jillian showing up later, but, we missed it because of frisbee.

I also visited the Prada building in Aoyama, on the advice of Cyrus, via facebook. Thankfully, its easy to get to. A short walk down the main avenue in Harajuku, Omotesando-dori, and you'll arive in a much quieter, upscale area in about 10 minutes from Omotesando station. Ayane and I set out for the building around 4pm, the perfect time of day to see a nice sunset and watch the reflections on buildings turn from a blinding white to a golden yellow hue.

The building itself is small: 6 stories tall, on the corner of a small intersection. The lot is also tiny, but, it's Tokyo, so that property must have been ridiculously expensive anyways. Upon seeing the building, I was immediately reminded of the Beijing Olympics "watercube" complex. It had a couple bubbly looking glass windows which jutted out of the otherwise flat surfaced exterior. But the shape and bend of the windows really amazed me. The way in which the blue-tinted glass reflected the late afternoon light seemed to create a soft aura around the building. In short, this building was magnificent to look at.

flashback: skiing in Nagano

taken from my notebook, [first day of ski trip Mar. 19]

Intensity at its finest. Once I put on all my gear for the firs time, I knew I was in for a totally different, possibly devastatingly frustrating experience. Side note: my friend Hannah happened to be given the exact same jacket and snow pants as me. We were twins. The ski boots were definitely a new thing for me. Walking is so difficult because the boots, which are already tight fitting, are meant to protect you from breaking your ankles by not allowing you to move them. Basically, I felt like a robot, with movement restricted to large steps with my knees bearing the burden of movement.

And then, once we got onto the snow with all our gear, I learned that, in order to get to the ski lifts and get our ski passes, we had to ski down a slope. Actually, two slopes and a long, flat plain. At this point, I knew I was screwed, and I realized that my day would be very, very, very long. Locking my ski boots into my skis, I remembered "pie" position and went down the slopes.

Five seconds of no control, then skiing fail. But, I realized that skiing is easier than it looks. Perri had the unfortunate luck of "skiing" down the first slope and running right into a Japanese person, skis tangled in a mess. awkward, at best :)

Needless to say, despite some epic failures on my part, I was actually able to ski down the green courses by afternoon. To be able to fly down a mountain full of snow is such a rush. The feeling of controlling your new found snow-carving units was so exhilirating, so different. I now know why people love to ski. It's fun, period.

My gullible self allowed me to be tricked into going to the top of the mountain with Erika, Thomas, and Dan Dat. Bad idea. Once we got to the top, sun setting over the mountainous Nagano region, I realized that the ski signs pointed in two directions: left = black diamond course, right = red course with moguls. Looking down the mountain was already daunting. Knowing that I had to ski down the monster was something totally different. I was extremely angry for about three seconds before reminding myself that I paid for the trip, and that the ski lift didn't allow you to go down. I stuck my ski poles in the ground and said, "let's go."

Epic fail. I skiied for about two seconds before losing balance because of the moguls and the steep grade of the course. My fall, quite intense. Once I got up, I would ski again for a couple seconds, then fall, sometimes losing my skis in the process. I can safely say that some of my falls were about 20 to 50 feet of just sliding and tumbling before attempting to stop myself. Thankfully, Erika and thomas were really helpful and were there to pick up my skis. Still though, it sucked to wipe out because it takes so much energy to recover, get up, get your skis that fell off, lock your boots into the skis, and finally, prepare for launch. It sounds depressing and disheartening, this whole wipeout thing. But every fall made me more determined to get back up.

more to come...

belated pictures from Japan

I realized that I haven't posted in a while...but, I've been writing in my small notebook almost everyday. Here are some pictures of my recent adventures in Japan. I'll post another entry tomorrow, I promise!

delish

[taken from notebook]

NEW Green Tea Oreo Mcflurry: First Impressions

• tastes like a green tea latte from Starbucks
• the ice cream part is superb, not too cold, and its more on the creamy side when the flavor hits the tongue
• oreo bits don't hinder taste

Overall: very tasty, well worth the wait. In addition, the presence of a coupon saved me 40 yen. Unfortunately, I know I probably shouldn't be having this treat all the time, despite its relatively cheap price. Also the small size is quite disheartening.

update: just finished, want more.

oh, how far we've come

[excerpts from notebook]

Oh, how far we've come, how far I've come. From the first night working at my uncle's restaurant, hearing jazz billow out of the bar room along with the puffs of cigarette smoke, to the Park Hyatt Hotel Jazz Bar in Tokyo. Everything about me has changed, except for my love of Jazz. I remember Josh saying how much he prefers the little dive bars in Tokyo as opposed to the massive clubs. I probably prefer smaller joints as well, seeing as I started off listening to Jazz in a square shaped bar with dim red lights, cigarette smoke, and a jazz trio that always had a glass of wine as their tip jar on top of the piano. Maybe I should search for another place to remind of me of those days. Or maybe, it'll be impossible to replace what's been lost, so so long ago.

Saturday evening I went to the Park Hyatt Hotel again, this time to hear some live Jazz at the 52nd floor "New York Jazz Bar." Met up with my friend Josh at Shinjuku station before heading out. The drinks: Scarlet Martini, one for the each of us, and two Mojitos with Shiho leaf. The Mojitos actually weren't that strong, but the Shiho leaf really brought out a minty flavor once I crushed a few with my stirrer. My god, it was expensive, but the Jazz was alright in the end. Josh pointed out that there were a lot of gaijin around, but then again, it's a hotel. The view, as anticipated, was stunning yet again. I can't say anything momentous happened that night, just a couple drinks, laughing and good times, etc. But now, I can finally say I've gone to a Jazz Bar in Tokyo.

on a bad day

Above is a short video of my usual morning commute on the JR Keihin Tohoku Line. As you can see, its quite an intense commute. At first, I hated the fact that I had zero room on the train. I still kinda loathe taking the trains, but I've gotten used to the crowds. Japan train platforms used to have "train pushers" to help cram people into the train, but, as you can see in the video, commuters tend to just cram themselves in now. I've seen train pushers, but they're usually never around when I'm commuting.

0:13sec Note: the amount of people on the platform
0:34sec Note: the almost empty platform
0:41sec Note: example of people cramming themselves onto train

Today's journey to school was particularly ugly. It was raining all day, and with so many commuters, all with long umbrellas and soaked shoes, the windows on the trains fog up and it gets really muggy and humid on the trains. Along with the usual glum looks on half-awake salarymen and near silent stations and train rides, the presence of rain just reinforces the dull commute. Oh yeah, there are a ridiculous number of people on the train, if you haven't noticed. At the end of the video, you can see people who are literally smashed up right up against the doors. Note: the doors on the trains have no sensors, so if your jacket gets stuck, well, too bad...

Riding inside the train during rush hour is quite an atmosphere. No one talks. In fact, its considered impolite to talk on the trains, especially during rush hour. If there's room, people are on their cellphones watching TV or emailing. I've become accustomed to being able to take powernaps on the train - standing up. I'd rather close my eyes than look up at the advertisements or catch the stares of other commuters who think I'm staring at some gorgeous woman's boobs or something. When your head isn't able to move at all, and your field of vision is limited to a well-dressed and pretty office lady smashed up against you, its very hard to appear as if you're not a creeper. Looking up at the LCD screen advertisements is one way to look uninterested. But, as I've stated earlier, I prefer the powernap. If there's no room, which is typically the case during the morning commute, people spend their time closing their eyes and taking quick naps while attempting to maintain their balance when the train jerks forward or stops. It's quite a feat actually, trying to balance yourself without holding onto anything. Any unanticipated train movements can send a whole wave of people all leaning forward, some losing their balance and throwing themselves onto others. All this while being unable to move your arms or turn your head.

I remember one train ride in which I was crammed against one of the doors opposite to the train platform. I put my headphones on, switched on my iPod, and closed my eyes for a quick nap. By the time the passengers on the next station got on, I was squished even more, with no room for me to adjust my headphones. But, I was too tired at this point to actually open my eyes to see how much more people had crammed onto the train. All I knew from my other senses was that some person's body and bag were squished up against me. When i finally opened my eyes from my quick 2 minute "nap," i realized that a girl's face was literally right in front of me. Her nose was about 2 inches from mine. At this point, I closed my eyes again. I can definitely say it was an interesting commute that morning. Welcome to Tokyo.

on a normal day

Above is a short video of my commute on the Tokyo JR Keihin Tohoku line. Considering I was leaving at around 12:40pm, the station and train platform is quite empty. I'll post a video tomorrow showing how bad the commute can get during the morning rush hour. It's bad. Before the train doors close, a little musical jingle plays in the background, notifying the passengers that the doors are about to close. That's the music you hear in the beginning of the video.



I got a new pocket notebook today. I love it.
[taken from my notebook]

Mar. 6th 1:41AM

Torn, between action and non-action; torn, between guts and heart; torn, between loneliness and companionship. This is the state I am in.

Today's weather was absolutely glorious. I woke up with my feet already bathing in warm, 11AM sunlight. The weather for the day was confirmed by Ben, who just came back from running. Finally, a day to clear my mind, a peaceful catharsis. Considering the fact that I have less than two months here in Tokyo, I've started my blitz towards accomplishing what needs to be done. Yet, at the same time, I want to relax. The cherry blossom season starts soon - something I've been dreaming of experiencing for a while now, especially with this gloom of winter finally beginning its exit. I want to do so much, yet, I also want things to flow naturally and take things one step at a time. But two months is two months. Nothing can change this fact, and quite frankly, there's still a lot on my to-do list...

12:41pm

Updates from last night:
Rainy day, along with an unusual cold front. My super-ghetto folding umbrella finally broke on the way to class. Luckily, my friend Erika gave me her umbrella to keep, which it turns out, was given to her for free from a random guy. The umbrella, a full-length kind, had a heavy bottom grip, but the balance wasn't too bad. It's not too top heavy, where the umbrella threatens to lean forward, and its not too bottom heavy, where the umbrella threatens to tip backwards. Just right. Anyways, I digress. It also snowed in the evening. Slushy clumped snowflakes hung onto my jacket and left huge droplets on my newly procured umbrella. For some reason, I actually preferred last night's snowfall as opposed to normal rain. Snow is much more peaceful - a quieter force of nature. Thankfully, the clumps of snow fell harmlessly to the ground, only to melt instantly and create a reflective medium for the storefront lights lining the streets. A mix of blue, white, and orange reflections with the occasional shadow of umbrellas led the way home.
[Today]

Before I took a nap in the library today, I asked myself this question: do most people here in Tokyo dress well because they want to stand out and look fashionable, OR do people dress well because they don't want to stand out? I can recall a certain Japanese idiom that says, "the nail that sticks out always gets hammered down." It seems that every woman here has a standard set of shiny black high heels, pencil skirts, and a designer bag. Louis Vuitton's presence here cannot be underestimated. There's a reason why the Louis Vuitton flagship store here in Tokyo is the larger than the one in Paris...Even the fringe edges of fashion, Tokyo's "Harajuku Girls," Cos players, and the "Lolitas" all place an exquisite amount of detail into whatever they wear. Considering the strong mentailty of maintaining harmony within a group and society as a whole, does dressing well equate with the fear of public criticism and the stigma of being different? Does "fashion" in Tokyo take on a different subconscious meaning? These are questions I don't have answers to.

I can attempt to offer one explanation for everyone's impeccable dresscode here. The notion of waga and mama, which literally translate as the untrained self/selfishness, is frowned upon in Japanese culture. Individualism is not a concept that is highly regarded in Japan. Rather, a larger emphasis is placed on maintaining group harmony. Deviation from one's social groups leads to scorn and being labeled as "different" - not something one takes pride in. Back at UIC, I had a long conversation with a Japanese foreign exchange student. He offered a metaphor to explain this Japanese mentality. He said to imagine everyone facing north, but you were the only one facing south. The pressure to face north, like everyone else, can be overbearing and extremely uncomfortable. So, place yourself into a Japanese girl's shoes. If your friends encourage you to get a new purse or a new pair of shoes that they really like, what would you, as a Japanese girl, do? The temptation to conform is stronger than what you would expect...

Or maybe, people just like to look good. I dunno.

chasing the fleeting sun

[taken from my notebook]
I'm writing this as the sun sets on the Tama river. A friend from the dorms told me a couple weeks ago that she went running and randomly came upon a big river. Reminding myself that today would be the only sunny day this week, I decided to venture out and find it. Here were the directions given: follow the train tracks. So i did.

4:30pm
Setting out with my camera, which barely had any battery power, and some apple strudel pastry procured from the convenience store, I followed the train tracks towards the setting sun. My goal was to catch the sunset on the river. The trip itself took longer than expected, and all the while I kept expecting the sun to set before I got there. In my mind I kept yelling "wait, I'm almost there Sun, don't leave without me," as I ventured along the rail line.

Time was of no consequence, so long as I caught the sunset on the river. And as the glimmer of the afternoon rays on apartment buildings began to fade, I finally reached a raised section of green grass. I knew I had made it. The river itself was not breathtaking. The view, mediocre at best. But still, I was calmed by the river's presence. Such a vast amount of space in a city that was never generous with it in the first place. Green grass. Baseball fields, tall buildings in the near distance. And, the sun. I caught up to it just before it called quits for the day.

On the banks of the Tama river, time: unknown
Now, as the sun has all but disappeared, leaving slivers of light to fend for their own and cast their last glimmers on distant buildings, I can finally hear the gentle whisper of this river. No horns, no people, just wind and water - with the occasional rumble of commuter trains in the distance. I never thought it possible, but this city has revealed so many quiet pockets of repose. A soft reminder that not everything in life can, or should be taken, at a blistering pace; a soft reminder that not everything in life is meant to pass you by. This is one of those spots. A man to the left of me is looking out on the river, taking in the view as the breeze becomes more of a cold chill. Despite my Chicago-conditioned, cold-weather prepared mentality, I grow cold. My hands are officially numb now, and my peach drink wasn't nearly as fulfilling as I had intended it to be. On the way back, the one thing that was missing from my mini adventure had finally revealed itself in the last minutes of daylight. Mt. Fuji, its silhouette tracing a soft edge across the pink sky, finally revealed itself.

Nightviews

[Seeing as I've only two months left here, I'll try to be posting a new journal entry, or something, everyday]
"The city looks like a single gigantic creature - or more like a single collective entity created by many intertwined organisms. Countless arteries stretch to the ends of its elusive body, circulating a continuous supply of red blood cells, sending out data and collecting the old, sending out new consumables and collecting the old, sending out new contradictions and collecting the old."
- Haruki Murakami

I've always been fascinated with Tokyo by night. Should perpetual darkness ever come about, I'd choose to live here. I guess I share Haruki Murakami's fascination with the night and darkness. It brings about what people try so hard to cover up during the day with business suits, makeup and Louis Vuitton bags.

From the raucous streets of Shinjuku and Shibuya to the eerily tranquil business districts near Tokyo tower, the frenetic pulse of this living, breathing city temporarily calms for the evening. It's as if the whole city has been holding its breath underwater, and finally surfaced for another gasp of air. A brief escape before plunging back into reality. The uptight, restrained business etiquette and deference to superiors during the day is gratefully shed at sundown. Refuge is sought in the form of a late dinner and restrained alcohol sessions at the izakaya with officemates. The trains, transporting the half-awake, silent commuters during the morning, change their function to ferrying the lucky individuals who've made it through the day. The newly done hair and perfume in the morning make way for the mild drunkards with loosened ties and warm hearts at night. "Sumimasen" makes way for "Jaa ne" as friendly waves are exchanged on the platform. Packs of cigarettes are bought and smoked. Those awaiting the caress of their loved ones are rewarded for their toils. Rest makes its humble entrance.