tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62261710875405243312023-10-11T16:33:22.337+09:00Aiyakki's WindowConichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12211880924234536195noreply@blogger.comBlogger101125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6226171087540524331.post-59667700654897636792010-05-14T17:37:00.004+09:002011-09-26T09:25:50.833+09:00AdjustingThe other day I was watching the news and they reported that a woman's body had been found in one of the canals. It was wrapped in plastic and it had been in there for over a week because whoever dumped it had done so just at the beginning of the Golden Week holiday.<br /><br />They were interviewing one of the old guys who had been responsible for fishing the the corpse out. He kept commenting on the fact that the body had been dumped at the beginning of the holiday. I guess people don't look for corpses over the holiday, so by the time the found it, it was difficult to identify whose it was. He said that they put it in there at the beginning of the holiday, so we are only getting it out now. They put in in there just as the Golden Week holiday was starting, so you can see how that caused a bit of a problem. This guy pulled a rotting corpse wrapped in a huge plastic bag out of canal with something that looks like an oversized meat hook and all he can talk about is the timing of when the corpse was dumped into the canal with respect to his holiday.<br /><br />I guess if you spend a lot of time fishing corpses out of canals you sort of get attuned to the little details and you begin to notice that some corpses really are more inconvenient than others and some murderers just don't have much in the way of decorum when it comes to timing and such.Conichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12211880924234536195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6226171087540524331.post-58060463382171873872009-08-25T13:43:00.039+09:002009-08-30T08:46:40.849+09:00Budapest<div>At the beginning of the summer vacation, I went to the meeting of the International Commission of the History of Science and Technology, which was in Budapest this year. I stayed in a small hotel across the Danube from the meeting. The venue was a technical university that faced the river from the Buda side. You can see the university in the picture below.</div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/Spm7okTANqI/AAAAAAAACF8/YOp4vfj72kY/s1600-h/DSCF1933.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/Spm7okTANqI/AAAAAAAACF8/YOp4vfj72kY/s320/DSCF1933.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375533935855941282" /></a><br /><div>The conference was the biggest international meeting for historians of science. There were a fair number of talks that I wanted to hear but, because they were running ten or so multiple sessions, I wasn't able to see all of them. It was good to see some of my old teachers and colleagues who I haven't seen for a while and to meet, for the first time, colleagues whose scholarship I've been reading for years<br /><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/Spm6nKjLbXI/AAAAAAAACF0/hyyWhmyKJAs/s1600-h/DSCF1949.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; text-align: center; " src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/Spm6nKjLbXI/AAAAAAAACF0/hyyWhmyKJAs/s320/DSCF1949.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375532812252966258" /></a><br /></div><div>In between sessions, and during a few dead periods, I was able to get out and explore the city. Budapest is both splendid and squalled at the same time. Here you see the parliament building, which is on the Pest side, from the turrets of an old fortress on the Buda side.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/Spm5uTo2ODI/AAAAAAAACFs/srVprsqnJf0/s1600-h/DSCF2041.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; text-align: center; " src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/Spm5uTo2ODI/AAAAAAAACFs/srVprsqnJf0/s320/DSCF2041.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375531835440117810" /></a><br /></div><div>Budapest was once the two cities of Buda and Pest, separated by the massive Danube and from time to time making war on one another.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/Spm455W0EaI/AAAAAAAACFk/dCqexPUpYCw/s1600-h/DSCF1995.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/Spm455W0EaI/AAAAAAAACFk/dCqexPUpYCw/s320/DSCF1995.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375530935031959970" /></a><br /></div><div>It's hard to get a sense from these pictures of just how huge the Danube is. In Budapest, the river is spanned by numerous bridges.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/Spm4LtNJ8CI/AAAAAAAACFc/vtapiBhTNwE/s1600-h/DSCF2042.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/Spm4LtNJ8CI/AAAAAAAACFc/vtapiBhTNwE/s320/DSCF2042.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375530141496242210" /></a><br />One of the most prevalent features of central part of the city are the 19th century apartment buildings.</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/Spm3iXIsJdI/AAAAAAAACFU/oHX9rnTVPpw/s1600-h/DSCF2407.JPG" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/Spm3iXIsJdI/AAAAAAAACFU/oHX9rnTVPpw/s320/DSCF2407.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375529431197296082" /></a><br /><br /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(0, 0, 51); line-height: 20px; font-family:Georgia, Times, serif;font-size:13px;">Here's one that looks like it's from the early 20th century.</span></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/Spm210LHloI/AAAAAAAACFM/qAU8bGkuVOc/s1600-h/DSCF1974.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/Spm210LHloI/AAAAAAAACFM/qAU8bGkuVOc/s320/DSCF1974.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375528665897997954" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/Spm2VcQ2RuI/AAAAAAAACFE/fTXzBFNt_CE/s1600-h/DSCF2425.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/Spm2VcQ2RuI/AAAAAAAACFE/fTXzBFNt_CE/s320/DSCF2425.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375528109723764450" /></a><br /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(0, 0, 51); line-height: 20px; font-family:Georgia, Times, serif;font-size:13px;">Years of communist rule, however, have taken their toll and many neighbourhoods are impoverished and the buildings in a state of disrepair.</span></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/Spm1zqFon7I/AAAAAAAACE8/nee3gIwtHC8/s1600-h/DSCF1973.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/Spm1zqFon7I/AAAAAAAACE8/nee3gIwtHC8/s320/DSCF1973.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375527529319276466" /></a><br /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(0, 0, 51); line-height: 20px; font-family:Georgia, Times, serif;font-size:13px;">With the new influx of borrowed money, there is construction going on at slow pace everywhere throughout the city. Here's a typical street that they've ripped up and don't seem to be in any hurry to refinish.</span></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SpmguEDevZI/AAAAAAAACE0/bsDxGTzElaQ/s1600-h/DSCF2018.JPG" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SpmguEDevZI/AAAAAAAACE0/bsDxGTzElaQ/s320/DSCF2018.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375504343466163602" /></a></div><div><br /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(0, 0, 51); line-height: 20px; font-family:Georgia, Times, serif;font-size:13px;">The Hungarians are famous for being a mathematical nation. I took this button panel in the elevator of my hotel as evidence of the mathematical disposition of even the average Hungarian.</span></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SpmfvBfh_uI/AAAAAAAACEs/VkPxxNR-wJU/s1600-h/DSCF2074.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SpmfvBfh_uI/AAAAAAAACEs/VkPxxNR-wJU/s320/DSCF2074.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375503260446752482" /></a><div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Conichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12211880924234536195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6226171087540524331.post-88757731072543484662009-08-13T02:26:00.012+09:002009-08-13T04:29:38.659+09:00Summer Vacation<p>I survived my first semester at Waseda. There have been many strange things to get used to but I has been going by so fast that I hardly have time to take them all in. Maybe a few examples will help.</p><p>When I first started I was asked to go to the clinic associated with the university for a check up. I was given a thorough examination and a few days later received a ten page report in the mail. The final conclusion was that I had a hearing loss and should go to an ear doctor and that I had high blood cholesterol (I had to look that Japanese term up) and should go back to talk to the examining doctor about the situation. A weeks days later I received a very polite email from someone in the human resources department saying that she had seen the report and would I please eat lots of intense vegetables (濃い野菜, the adjective usually means strong in the sense of taste or color) and do things like walking and then take another test in the summer holiday. I found it endearing that they would take such concern, but on the other hand I was relieved that I didn't have anything embarrassing that they could have found out about.<br /></p><p>Our library is generally in a fairly deplorable state for what I'm teaching. I was going to set an assignment on eugenics, so I searched in the library catalogs to see what they had. In this case I was pleasantly surprised to see that they had many books in both Japanese and Western languages on the various eugenics movements. What was a bit peculiar, however, was that in addition to some ten or twenty books of modern scholarship there were also some hindered or so books on race, race purification and straightforward racism, mostly written in the interwar period. Given the situation, however, this is understandable. If I were Japanese in the 1920s and I was aware that someone had written books with titles like <span style="font-style:italic;">The Mongol in Our Midst : A Study of Man and His Three Faces</span> or <em>Our Testing Time : Will the White Race Win Through?</em>, I would want to know what they were about as well. </p><p>I have also had to come to grips with teaching undergraduates in their first and second years many of whom come from very different backgrounds from anything I previously imagined. I repeated realized that I was taking too much for granted. In one of the most extreme situations a student told me a week before the paper was due that she had not had time to read my long and detailed instructions on how to write a paper, but that she had decided to write her (five page) paper on the relationship between the role of determinism in the collapse of civilizations and the extinction of species and for her sources she had two textbooks, one on ancient civilizations and one on biological speciation and extinction. I told her that this sounded a bit grandiose and that moreover she should try to find some sources that dealt with her topic directly and which were not textbooks. Next, a week before her paper was due, she sent me an email explaining that she had changed her mind, that she would now write on The History of Astronomy and that her paper would have the following form: 1. Before Christ, 2. After Christ, 3. Modern Astronomy, 4. Technology in Astronomy and 5. The Future of Astronomy. I replied that this sounded like a bit much and, moreover, that I wasn't sure where she had derived this periodization but that it wasn't particularly sound. Luckily, in the end she turned in a reasonably good paper on the history of astronomy in ancient Greece. </p><p>And finally, for some pictures and general weirdness. Here's the sign to the men's sink in a department store in Akihabara (秋葉原). The Japanese just means "face-washing" and is probably just an abrivation for the word for sink (洗面台).</p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SoMIJ_EtPsI/AAAAAAAACCM/ejAnuHdsir4/s1600-h/DSCF1897.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SoMIJ_EtPsI/AAAAAAAACCM/ejAnuHdsir4/s320/DSCF1897.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369144148398784194" /></a><br /><p>In Ueno (上野) there's a shop called Powwow, run by some Japanese people that sell American Indian stuff. It has all manner of products of dubious taste...</p><p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SoMIFQHm5PI/AAAAAAAACCE/nDiph-BhMP0/s1600-h/DSCF1898.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SoMIFQHm5PI/AAAAAAAACCE/nDiph-BhMP0/s320/DSCF1898.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369144067075007730" /></a><br /></p><p>... and a ridiculous sign. I got into an argument with my friend Nathan, who's half Maori, about whether or not this sign is racist. He maintained that in order for something to be racist the people involved had to have some clue about the racial conflict, the social context. He pointed out that the people running this shop obviously had no idea about anything to do with Native Americans, other than some fantasy they had concocted based on media and such, and they were totally obliviousto the meanings behind these things. I can kind of see his point, but whatever you want to call it, it's pretty creepy.</p><p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SoMH-921pSI/AAAAAAAACB8/8xwlqQZ2LXo/s1600-h/DSCF1899.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 295px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SoMH-921pSI/AAAAAAAACB8/8xwlqQZ2LXo/s320/DSCF1899.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369143959093617954" /></a><br /></p><p>Finally, the curiously named Spo-Vege, short for "sport vegetables," which promises the power of vegetables for a body doing sports (スポーツするカラダに、野菜のチカラを). </p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SoMHimb5RrI/AAAAAAAACBU/2GZlXg7unHA/s1600-h/DSCF1905.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SoMHimb5RrI/AAAAAAAACBU/2GZlXg7unHA/s320/DSCF1905.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369143471770257074" /></a> Conichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12211880924234536195noreply@blogger.com207tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6226171087540524331.post-13934464924166892052009-07-28T00:55:00.004+09:002009-07-28T01:26:33.649+09:00New ApartmentI finally moved into a new apartment at the end of last month. It is a large place for Tokyo, but it was reasonably priced because it's in an old building and about ten to fifteen minutes walk from a decent train station (and about two minutes from a crappy one). But it's really near the university, so it's fine for me.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/Sm3Op4iOqqI/AAAAAAAACAs/koynCfBexJw/s1600-h/DSCF1916.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/Sm3Op4iOqqI/AAAAAAAACAs/koynCfBexJw/s320/DSCF1916.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363169950214040226" border="0" /></a><br />A sign of the state of my Japanese is that I was able to do the transaction and set everything up entirely in Japanese. This included getting optical fiber pulled to the apartment and a number of calls to the internet company in which I managed to be an annoying prick on the phone while still maintaining all the superficial forms of politeness - a distinguishing characteristic of my phone manner with customer service representatives. (In the interest of the full truth, I should point out that this phone manner is not particularly effective, but somehow I find it too satisfying to change.)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/Sm3OpidoanI/AAAAAAAACAk/M415T5-jETQ/s1600-h/DSCF1917.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 319px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/Sm3OpidoanI/AAAAAAAACAk/M415T5-jETQ/s320/DSCF1917.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363169944289176178" border="0" /></a><br />This is the room that I was going to use as my bedroom, but it is just above a large road with a train track down the middle and is INSANELY LOUD. I have found that I can get some work done in it, however, so I'm going to turn it into a study with a couch and screen for watching movies.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/Sm3OpXn7U9I/AAAAAAAACAc/FISMeapEn0I/s1600-h/DSCF1918.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 253px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/Sm3OpXn7U9I/AAAAAAAACAc/FISMeapEn0I/s320/DSCF1918.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363169941379568594" border="0" /></a><br />The only green that you can see from the place is actually an old school Japanese style garden with landscaped lakes, little bridges, benches and the whole bit. It belongs to a shrine but it's open to the public and has a park for kids at one of the entrances.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/Sm3OpFRHmvI/AAAAAAAACAU/zxN18RDF4SQ/s1600-h/DSCF1919.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/Sm3OpFRHmvI/AAAAAAAACAU/zxN18RDF4SQ/s320/DSCF1919.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363169936452066034" border="0" /></a><br />Here's the little side street behind the place, which the main door of the building opens out onto.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/Sm3Oo4MWMXI/AAAAAAAACAM/vAOs7bv_zog/s1600-h/DSCF1921.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/Sm3Oo4MWMXI/AAAAAAAACAM/vAOs7bv_zog/s320/DSCF1921.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363169932942389618" border="0" /></a><br />Here's the Google Map location.<br /><br /><iframe width="425" height="350" frameborder="0" scrolling="no" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" src="http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&source=s_q&hl=en&geocode=&q=%E6%9D%B1%E4%BA%AC%E9%83%BD%E6%96%B0%E5%AE%BF%E5%8C%BA%E8%A5%BF%E6%97%A9%E7%A8%B2%E7%94%B0%EF%BC%93%E2%88%92%EF%BC%95%E2%88%92%EF%BC%91%EF%BC%93&sll=35.711844,139.718919&sspn=0.034567,0.070038&ie=UTF8&ll=35.722057,139.721031&spn=0.024389,0.036478&z=14&iwloc=A&output=embed"></iframe><br /><small><a href="http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&source=embed&hl=en&geocode=&q=%E6%9D%B1%E4%BA%AC%E9%83%BD%E6%96%B0%E5%AE%BF%E5%8C%BA%E8%A5%BF%E6%97%A9%E7%A8%B2%E7%94%B0%EF%BC%93%E2%88%92%EF%BC%95%E2%88%92%EF%BC%91%EF%BC%93&sll=35.711844,139.718919&sspn=0.034567,0.070038&ie=UTF8&ll=35.722057,139.721031&spn=0.024389,0.036478&z=14&iwloc=A" style="color:#0000FF;text-align:left">View Larger Map</a></small>Conichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12211880924234536195noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6226171087540524331.post-34152529073398899062009-05-03T16:54:00.003+09:002009-05-03T17:15:21.147+09:00Dormitory lifeIt's hard to believe I've been in Tokyo for almost two months. Classes are moving at a brisk pace, and what with with prep, writing and trying to keep up with my Japanese, I haven't had much time to get out and see the city.<br /><br />I moved into my more permanent temporary apartment at the end of April. It's tiny and although it has a bathroom and a small kitchenette, it's basically a dorm room. I don't even have enough space to unpack all my stuff, and my clothes are in stacks all over the place. But I just don't have the time, or the inclination, to move somewhere else at the moment.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/Sf1OY7JGFCI/AAAAAAAAB_o/uZ4fzpj0hd0/s1600-h/DSCF1854.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 258px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/Sf1OY7JGFCI/AAAAAAAAB_o/uZ4fzpj0hd0/s320/DSCF1854.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331503723976201250" border="0" /></a><br /> I've got a fairly good routine down for now. Since I only have to teach classes three days a week, I am able to get in about two full days of work a week. This means that I've been able to get more done than I thought I would. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/Sf1OYhDufsI/AAAAAAAAB_g/KQ48eC1URfI/s1600-h/DSCF1879.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 271px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/Sf1OYhDufsI/AAAAAAAAB_g/KQ48eC1URfI/s320/DSCF1879.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331503716974362306" border="0" /></a><br />The library - shown above - is fairly good but still a far cry from great for the stuff I need. On the other hand, I can get whatever I want through interlibrary loan pretty quickly because there are a fair number of large libraries in Tokyo.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/Sf1OYmgzTuI/AAAAAAAAB_Y/WvcY70rV45U/s1600-h/DSCF1895.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 272px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/Sf1OYmgzTuI/AAAAAAAAB_Y/WvcY70rV45U/s320/DSCF1895.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331503718438489826" border="0" /></a><br />Waseda itself feels very much like a large private university. There is far more in the way of school spirit type stuff than what you get at most Canadian universities and it has all the quirks of a private school - such as ideosyncratic systems that are only marginally functional and which are justified by vague appeals to the "Waseda way of doing things."Conichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12211880924234536195noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6226171087540524331.post-35509668673095555602009-03-18T21:04:00.007+09:002009-03-18T23:39:19.996+09:00Getting outDeborah was in town over the weekend, so I took the excuse to take some time off and see a bit more of Tokyo.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/ScDkp7Gw07I/AAAAAAAAB_Q/PEJIbZlq8mQ/s1600-h/DSCF1828.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/ScDkp7Gw07I/AAAAAAAAB_Q/PEJIbZlq8mQ/s320/DSCF1828.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314498969189012402" border="0" /></a><br />On Sunday we went out to Odaiba island (お台場), which was once the fort protecting Tokyo's harbor and is now a huge man-made island devoted entirely to entertainment and shopping.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/ScDkpEmtHpI/AAAAAAAAB_I/80LSHSbxoe8/s1600-h/DSCF1842.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 223px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/ScDkpEmtHpI/AAAAAAAAB_I/80LSHSbxoe8/s320/DSCF1842.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314498954559037074" border="0" /></a><br />It's basically just one massive mall after another with rides, movie theaters and museums scattered in here and there. We went to <span style="font-style: italic;">Miraikan, </span>the National Museum of Emerging Science and Innovation (日本科学未来館) - which had some exhibits on robots and nanotechnology that were pretty cool.<br /><br />There was also a quintessentially Japanese activity going on at the southern end of the island. There was some kind of organized event for the fans of idol girls to take photo shoots of their favorite girls. There were packs of older men, all in their 50s to 60s, with expensive cameras taking photos of different girls. The men all had little yellow ribbons that marked them as participants in the event and the girls were doing various pin-up like poses for them. There were also organizers walking around with yellow arm bands that marked them variously as organizers, security and such.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/ScDko3-XxaI/AAAAAAAAB_A/VRGvI2aCIp4/s1600-h/DSCF1835.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 206px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/ScDko3-XxaI/AAAAAAAAB_A/VRGvI2aCIp4/s320/DSCF1835.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314498951168640418" border="0" /></a><br />On the way back, we saw this man-hole cover in front of the JR Shinbashi Station (新橋). The caption literally says fire extinguisher plug, or cap. I guess it means fire hydrant.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/ScDko617mII/AAAAAAAAB-4/8Ndi_-yG-B0/s1600-h/DSCF1849.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/ScDko617mII/AAAAAAAAB-4/8Ndi_-yG-B0/s320/DSCF1849.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314498951938545794" border="0" /></a><br />I've finally got my office all set up. I needed a set of file drawers, a little table for my printer and a white board. I talked to various people about this but we ran into a bit of a problem with funding regulations and it was unclear, who, if anyone was responsible for paying for it, and such purchases were clearly ruled out by the stipulations of my research grant.<br /><br />So me and the general office manager did what one would do in such a circumstance at any university. We went over to the building that the department had just moved out of, talked to the janitorial staff (who, in Japanese, have a much more elevated title), and together rummaged the place for abandoned furniture. The head janitor took us around to various places where he thought he remembered that stuff like that was, but he was pretty old and I guess his memory isn't what it used to be. Eventually, we did find most of what we were looking for and the janitor assured us he would let us know when he found the other stuff. Sure enough, the next day, the moving company brought everything to my office.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/ScDkogZiXFI/AAAAAAAAB-w/YQ6lTvSxKyY/s1600-h/DSCF1815.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/ScDkogZiXFI/AAAAAAAAB-w/YQ6lTvSxKyY/s320/DSCF1815.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5314498944840129618" border="0" /></a><br />In the background of this photo, you can see building 11, which houses our department and the School of Commerce. The faculty offices are on the top floor.Conichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12211880924234536195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6226171087540524331.post-38839125184249520652009-03-07T22:19:00.009+09:002009-03-07T23:13:45.116+09:00New OfficeThe moving company arrived this morning at nine o'clock, exactly as they said they would. After I witnessed the unsealing of the seal, they very quickly put everything in the front room, as I had told them, handed me an official receipt made out to the University and left.<br /><br /><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SbJ34h62pGI/AAAAAAAAB-o/uYgs9eMp42k/s1600-h/DSCF1792.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 315px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SbJ34h62pGI/AAAAAAAAB-o/uYgs9eMp42k/s320/DSCF1792.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310438723684836450" border="0" /></a><br />I then made my way back over to the department. When I got there, I saw that the boxes of loaner slippers had disappeared. There were still a lot of slippers lying around, however, so I asked the guys at the front if I could go in with my shoes on. They said that I could either use the slippers or my shoes, as I pleased. I wore my shoes.<br /><br />At the main office of the department, I introduced myself in rather formal Japanese, saying "Hello, I am S, who has been entrusted into the care of this department" (こんにちは、こちらにお世話になることになりましたSですが). This may sound a bit extreme, but it was regarded as the appropriate sort of thing to say at this juncture by the woman at the desk, who gave a little bow. I then asked if my contact person was in, but he had seen me come in, or something, and was already on his way over.<br /><br />He welcomed me and took me to a conference room in the back, to sign the contract. While he was getting the contract papers, I took this picture of the main quad of the campus. The statue is of Okuma Shigenobu, the samurai scholar who founded the university in 1882. Somehow, signing the contract in my own shoes felt more dignified to me.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SbJ1nVfpY7I/AAAAAAAAB-Y/IbGTBsfLpH0/s1600-h/DSCF1794.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SbJ1nVfpY7I/AAAAAAAAB-Y/IbGTBsfLpH0/s320/DSCF1794.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310436229268464562" border="0" /></a><br />After signing the contract, I was given the key to my new office, which is on the top floor of the building with the other faculty offices. In Japanese, a professor's office is called a research room (研究室), and that is certainly what mine looks like.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SbJ1m91xyOI/AAAAAAAAB-Q/V9kZzgrdI28/s1600-h/DSCF1798.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SbJ1m91xyOI/AAAAAAAAB-Q/V9kZzgrdI28/s320/DSCF1798.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310436222918838498" border="0" /></a><br />I borrowed a moving dolly from the logistics company, and spent the afternoon bringing my research books into my new research room. My teaching books will arrive from Canada in the next few days.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SbJ1mE8S9lI/AAAAAAAAB-I/ImdehprPFPg/s1600-h/DSCF1804.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SbJ1mE8S9lI/AAAAAAAAB-I/ImdehprPFPg/s320/DSCF1804.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310436207645357650" border="0" /></a><br />By the time I decided to call it quits, I had everything divided into subject piles, but nothing really put away. I also had a list of things the office needed.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SbJ1lQBVXsI/AAAAAAAAB-A/5689a-xJrQY/s1600-h/DSCF1806.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 266px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SbJ1lQBVXsI/AAAAAAAAB-A/5689a-xJrQY/s320/DSCF1806.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310436193439407810" border="0" /></a><br />I'm not sure about the logistics, but hopefully I can get back in on Sunday.Conichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12211880924234536195noreply@blogger.com69tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6226171087540524331.post-1887067799562898652009-03-06T22:29:00.014+09:002009-03-26T12:42:45.121+09:00Osaka to TokyoWell, I moved - and none too soon, because after spending about six months excavating the lot across from my balcony and apparently finding nothing, they decided to put up a new wing of the national hospital. Now, instead of the Naniwa-no-miya park, this is all you can see out of my old window.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SbJtfvqqFmI/AAAAAAAAB94/Djr0PYiRHZ8/s1600-h/DSCF1776.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SbJtfvqqFmI/AAAAAAAAB94/Djr0PYiRHZ8/s320/DSCF1776.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310427302761993826" border="0" /></a><br />I wont miss the sound of the construction, but I will miss the sound of the kids playing after school. Look at how tiny those kids are. I don't really understand how they can make as much noise as a construction site, but they do.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SbJqr-0aa1I/AAAAAAAAB9w/0y-7YVQfjrI/s1600-h/DSCF1778.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 269px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SbJqr-0aa1I/AAAAAAAAB9w/0y-7YVQfjrI/s320/DSCF1778.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310424214452988754" border="0" /></a><br />I don't know if there is anyone reading this blog who doesn't already know, but I accepted a tenure track professorship at Waseda University (早稲田大学). So, I'm posting this from a faculty apartment near the Waseda campus in Tokyo's Shinjuku-ku. Actually, this apartment is just a temporary place for a few weeks, before they move me to another faculty apartment that is right in the middle of campus. (If you click on the "view larger map" link below, you can go to street view and see my apartment building. It's the off-white building besides the parking lot and across the street from the construction sight.)<br /><br /><iframe marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" src="http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&source=s_q&hl=en&geocode=&q=%E6%9D%B1%E4%BA%AC%E9%83%BD%E6%96%B0%E5%AE%BF%E5%8C%BA%E6%97%A9%E7%A8%B2%E7%94%B0%E7%94%BA%EF%BC%92%EF%BC%97&sll=37.0625,-95.677068&sspn=32.38984,66.357422&ie=UTF8&msa=0&msid=102923537913325606875.000434fad9dc8afc4680f&s=AARTsJozJJ7OLatms5-LpnUmt4Z1mnWvxg&ll=35.715368,139.725494&spn=0.024391,0.036478&z=14&output=embed" scrolling="no" width="425" frameborder="0" height="350"></iframe><br /><small><a href="http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&source=embed&hl=en&geocode=&q=%E6%9D%B1%E4%BA%AC%E9%83%BD%E6%96%B0%E5%AE%BF%E5%8C%BA%E6%97%A9%E7%A8%B2%E7%94%B0%E7%94%BA%EF%BC%92%EF%BC%97&sll=37.0625,-95.677068&sspn=32.38984,66.357422&ie=UTF8&msa=0&msid=102923537913325606875.000434fad9dc8afc4680f&ll=35.715368,139.725494&spn=0.024391,0.036478&z=14" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 255); text-align: left;">View Larger Map</a></small><br /><br />Needless to say, it has been a busy couple of weeks. I was going to my Japanese classes right up until my last day in Osaka. My teachers wanted me to make a speech in Japanese. I tried to get out of this in various ways, including telling them that I had no time outside of class to prepare the speech - which was true. They were undeterred by this, however, and simply cleared up class time for me to work on it. I wanted to do something kind of original, as opposed to a self-introduction or a trivial cross-cultural comparison, which is the standard fare for such speeches. I ended up doing a simplified version of the story of <a href="http://individual.utoronto.ca/acephalous/pumpkins.html">Fred Marshall's pumpkin harvest</a>. After a few rounds of revisions, my teachers decided the speech was ready, and then told me they were going to make a video of it and play it at the graduation party, which I would, happily, miss.<br /><br />After a fairly humiliating morning of repeatedly recording the fifteen minute story until my teachers were satisfied that I had made no major pronunciation slips and had expressed what they regarded as fitting sentiment at the appropriate moments, I rushed home to finish packing in time for the moving company, who came that afternoon. The movers themselves were as organized as one can imagine. I had a bunch of extra boxes from a different moving company, and when I was asking my movers if they wanted them, they told me they would take the extra boxes for free, but that they could also take my full garbage bags for ¥300 a bag. Since my trash wasn't properly separated, this seemed like a better idea than facing the wrath of the old lady who was in charge of berating me about constantly failing to follow the many rules of the apartment building - most of which were unwritten, but were somehow understood by her as obvious.<br /><br />The movers put all my stuff in a my own gated cage inside the moving tuck and then closed the gate and sealed it with a paper seal. They asked me to come down to the truck and witness the sealing of the cage. After I affirmed that I had, indeed, seen the cage so sealed, they told me that could witness the opening of the seal in Tokyo. I told them that I was much obliged, and there was some minor bowing and a number of thanks were said.<br /><br />I spent the night at Chie's and then returned to the apartment in the morning to clean. The guy who had checked the place for damage a week before had told me just to clean it lightly, since they would clean it anyway after I left, so that's what I did. Then Chie and I had lunch together, she walked me to the station, and I took the bullet train to Tokyo. It rained all day.<br /><br />The rain was heavy when I arrived in Tokyo. I didn't really know what to do, so I just walked to the address of my new place. It was just an apartment building and there was no one around. I called one of the numbers posted for the management and told them I had a reservation for that day. Then I told them I had just arrived so I had no key. Then they understood that I was a new tenant who had no idea what he was doing and they directed me to a main building where I signed a contract an was given a key.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SbJqpw141vI/AAAAAAAAB9Q/HietbjTAHTM/s1600-h/DSCF1788.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SbJqpw141vI/AAAAAAAAB9Q/HietbjTAHTM/s320/DSCF1788.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310424176341341938" border="0" /></a><br />After I dropped off my bags, I went to the new offices of my department, the School for International Liberal Studies (国際教養学部). Our department has just been moved into a huge, brand new building. Actually, the move is still in progress, so there are protective covers all over the floors and the walls to protect the building from furniture damage. (This is a standard practice in any move in Japan.)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SbJqqUnVZrI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/a9C67VTYoUU/s1600-h/DSCF1786.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SbJqqUnVZrI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/a9C67VTYoUU/s320/DSCF1786.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310424185943975602" border="0" /></a><br />Moreover, for reasons that I do not entirely understand the moving company had provided boxes of slippers, one for public use and one reserved for moving company employees, at the front entrance of the building. Near the boxes many people had left their own shoes. I could read the signs and see all the shoes, but somehow I couldn't really believe it. As I was standing there wondering what to do, however, a woman came out of the building wearing bright blue loaner slippers and carrying her own shoes.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SbJqrZ4fRmI/AAAAAAAAB9o/mfMcRNqaErE/s1600-h/DSCF1781.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SbJqrZ4fRmI/AAAAAAAAB9o/mfMcRNqaErE/s320/DSCF1781.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310424204537972322" border="0" /></a><br />So I took off my shoes, put on a pair of general-use loaner slippers and shuffled in, to see if I could get the key to my new office. Our main office, however, was already closed. I thought they would be, but since Japanese work late anyways, I had decided I would go in and see. Actually, I could see people still working through the curtains but they had posted a sign stating that they were closed and to please come back tomorrow. Anyway, it had been a long day, and now I was wearing bright green loaner slippers, so I decided to just call it a night.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SbJqq_S2hnI/AAAAAAAAB9g/AWAXhmlaylQ/s1600-h/DSCF1783.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 252px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SbJqq_S2hnI/AAAAAAAAB9g/AWAXhmlaylQ/s320/DSCF1783.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310424197400790642" border="0" /></a>Conichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12211880924234536195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6226171087540524331.post-18352768026693647382009-02-10T23:07:00.008+09:002009-08-13T04:13:41.021+09:00The National HospitalThere's a National Hospital right across the street from me. I see it every day but I few weeks ago I got the influenza, so I walked over for a check-up. Apparently, the influenza that I had was the real deal, because I was so out of it that I couldn't leave my place for days on end. I kept thinking that I should go out and get some food and maybe go to the hospital, but then I would think that maybe I should just rest for a little bit first and proceed to wake up like six hours later.<br /><br />At one point, I emailed a friend and asked her to bring me some food. She bought a huge bag of food and left it in front of my door, but unfortunately there was altogether too much in the way of fish and seaweed to really satisfy my idea of comfort food, so I couldn't eat much of it.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SZGLU6N6daI/AAAAAAAAB8E/axi3WCqhw20/s1600-h/DSCF1021.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SZGLU6N6daI/AAAAAAAAB8E/axi3WCqhw20/s320/DSCF1021.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301171427733042594" border="0" /></a><br />The next day, I decided to email an American friend. I told him I wanted American style comfort food, but something light. He brought me rice that was topped with a breaded and deep-fried pork cutlet all smothered in beef gravy. Somehow, it was only when I saw the food that I remembered he was a Texan.<br /><br />When I woke up in the mid-morning of the following day, I hadn't eaten for quite a while and my fever still hadn't broken so I decided that I really had to go to the hospital. I didn't know the procedure, so I just took my heath card and wandered over. I went up to the information desk and told them that I had come to the hospital suddenly with some kind of sickness. It was kind of an oblique way of putting it, so the lady asked me if I wanted a medical examination. She used the technical term, which in theory I should have known. It's not a term I hear much or ever really use, however, and, being American, it didn't occur to me that you could just walk into a hospital and request a medical examination, so I just sort of stared at her blankly. Then she asked me if I had come to visit someone at the hospital or for a medical examination. I told her that I hadn't come to visit anyone so I guess I had come for a medical examination. This time, I used the technical term.<br /><br />Then she led me to another desk, where they gave me a sign in sheet. There were boxes where you could just choose what department you needed. You could just go right ahead and make a check for surgery or the cardiovascular clinic, or whatever. I knew the Kanji for most of these words because there was a section in one of my textbooks on hospitals and their departments. Nevertheless, I wasn't really sure what box was best for me, so I told the guy at the desk that I had a fever and a headache and he told me that I should probably go to internal medicine.<br /><br />If there were an award for the Most Adorable Doctor In the World, my internal medicine Doctor could surely be a contender. She was tiny and seemed much, much too young to be a doctor - maybe like a 12 or 13 year old girl who was playing dress up. There was team of nurses who took all my statistics and laid me out on one of the gurneys. The Doctor, who seemed far and away to be the youngest person in the room, would come talk to me for a while and then go and type furiously at a computer on the other side of the room. Sometimes I had the feeling she was only humoring me. At one point she told me that if I wanted she could give me an intravenous transfusion. I didn't know the term for an intravenous transfusion so I asked about that. She made some gestures and gave a fairly graphic description, and I asked if she really thought that would be necessary. She said that she didn't.<br /><br />About an hour later, they sent me home with a medication for the fever and another for the flue. Taking those medications, I started to recover by the evening.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SZGLVekcYVI/AAAAAAAAB8M/SBwg0JFN6CI/s1600-h/DSCF1432.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SZGLVekcYVI/AAAAAAAAB8M/SBwg0JFN6CI/s320/DSCF1432.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301171437491216722" border="0" /></a><br />I'm back in Japanese school again, for two hours every day. This time it's a completely different experience. Now, I can actually understand everything the teachers say, and I can articulate my questions about whatever I don't know. We're moving too fast for me to retain everything again, but I can put the new constructions into use right away and I understand fairly well what they mean. Still, I have the constant feeling that even though I am slowly climbing, I'm at the base of a huge, and still largely unseen, mountain.<br /><br />Here are a couple pictures of some otaku bikes at a local bike show.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SZGLVYPkkII/AAAAAAAAB8U/XZ3JGFhhANk/s1600-h/DSCF1521.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SZGLVYPkkII/AAAAAAAAB8U/XZ3JGFhhANk/s320/DSCF1521.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301171435793059970" border="0" /></a><br />Check out <span style="font-style: italic;">Little Busters</span>. Bike geeks, anime style.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SZGLVrt6EOI/AAAAAAAAB8c/KeQEGSJGTBA/s1600-h/DSCF1523.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SZGLVrt6EOI/AAAAAAAAB8c/KeQEGSJGTBA/s320/DSCF1523.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301171441020571874" border="0" /></a>Conichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12211880924234536195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6226171087540524331.post-13864987419053964602009-01-19T03:51:00.006+09:002009-02-11T00:49:04.659+09:00Washington D.C.In the second week of January, I went to the US capital to give a talk in the history session of the Joint Mathematics Meeting of the American Mathematical Society and the Mathematics Association of America. This is sort of an ideal setting for a historian of mathematics. The meeting itself is huge with over 2000 talks, and the history session has one of the larger rooms, seating some 250 people. Since many mathematicians are interested in the history of their discipline, the room is usually close to full.<br /><br />I was mostly busy with the conference, but my colleague Toke and I did get out to see some of the monuments and a few of the museums in the Smithsonian Institution. Actually, the only patriotic thing I did was visit the Lincoln memorial.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SXN8lOrO4II/AAAAAAAAB7I/KVONFl2ZQho/s1600-h/DSCF1739.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SXN8lOrO4II/AAAAAAAAB7I/KVONFl2ZQho/s320/DSCF1739.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292710966126895234" border="0" /></a><br />It was a dreary day and as we were walking back towards the museums it started to rain. I didn't even bother to go look at the White House. After all, I've seen it a million times in photos and movies, and I wasn't planning on going inside.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SXN8lc8SZxI/AAAAAAAAB7Q/A2hZFNYZ6ww/s1600-h/DSCF1741.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SXN8lc8SZxI/AAAAAAAAB7Q/A2hZFNYZ6ww/s320/DSCF1741.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292710969956525842" border="0" /></a><br />The Smithsonian Institution was really amazing. There must be around 20 museums, all of which are free and really well presented. One could spend days wandering around them and still not see everything. We only saw a fraction of the holdings of the few that we had time to visit. As well as having the money to put up first class exhibits, the Institution also possesses a fair number of original items from all over the world.<br /><br />Below you see the Hope Diamond.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SXN8l6ByI1I/AAAAAAAAB7Y/xfo0zs6wGvc/s1600-h/DSCF1747_01.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 286px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SXN8l6ByI1I/AAAAAAAAB7Y/xfo0zs6wGvc/s320/DSCF1747_01.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292710977764205394" border="0" /></a><br />In the Air and Space Museum, there are spaceships and planes from all over the world hanging from the ceilings, including the original Wright Brothers 1903 flyer and one of the joint Soviet and US space stations.<br /><br />Here's a picture of one of the top of the high end bikes made by the Wright Brothers in the bicycle shop where they built the first plane.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SXN8mRls1dI/AAAAAAAAB7g/edph5Z813k8/s1600-h/DSCF1755.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 197px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SXN8mRls1dI/AAAAAAAAB7g/edph5Z813k8/s320/DSCF1755.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292710984088868306" border="0" /></a>Conichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12211880924234536195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6226171087540524331.post-51975043267921631562008-12-31T18:43:00.008+09:002009-01-03T18:21:47.912+09:00BeijingOn the way back to Osaka, I stayed in Beijing. It was my first time in China, but luckily my friend Carlos's friend Joy was able to show me around a bit.<br /><br />I was only there for a bit and everything took longer than I had expected so I wasn't able to see that much. But we tripped around here and there and had some great food.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SVs_CgXjvnI/AAAAAAAAB6I/3ZrNgkS3WVw/s1600-h/DSCF1732.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SVs_CgXjvnI/AAAAAAAAB6I/3ZrNgkS3WVw/s320/DSCF1732.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285887899930443378" border="0" /></a><br />The best meal we had was probably the hot pot at this Muslim restaurant. The water was heated by that big cone filled with burning coals.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SVs_C2Y6irI/AAAAAAAAB6Q/6I1h9Rbjt4U/s1600-h/DSCF1735.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SVs_C2Y6irI/AAAAAAAAB6Q/6I1h9Rbjt4U/s320/DSCF1735.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285887905841711794" border="0" /></a><br />It was basically like Japanese nabe except the stuff you put in the pot was a bit different and, obviously, there was no pork.<br /><br />Beijing was a strange experience in the winter. It was freezing and I could see that all the standing water was frozen as we flew in, but there was no sign of any snow. The city is basically flat and in the middle of an endless flat plane, sectioned into rectangular fields and cut through with wide irrigation canals. When you come in from the air, you can see at once that Beijing was constructed as an imperial city, laid out around a central palace. In the winter, however, everything was just brown and gray and cold.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SV1l-JXRcmI/AAAAAAAAB6Y/BmN_y9jBjUY/s1600-h/DSCF1728.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SV1l-JXRcmI/AAAAAAAAB6Y/BmN_y9jBjUY/s320/DSCF1728.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286493655942656610" border="0" /></a><br />Most of the streets are wide and the buildings massive, clearly designed to impress. Throughout the city, there are mammoth structures of every age, including those just finished this year for the 2008 Olympic Games. There is a vast sense of history, but somehow I found the feeling of history in Beijing unnerving. It seemed as though it little matters what I say or what I think ... as though there are great, ineluctable forces at work ... that they will sweep over me and swallow my whole life up.<br /><br />I don't know. Maybe I'm just going through a strange period.Conichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12211880924234536195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6226171087540524331.post-86697027454829372862008-12-31T00:29:00.008+09:002009-01-01T22:55:07.786+09:00BandidasThis Christmas I took the opposite of a vacation. From relatively warm Osaka, where I had been riding my new bike everyday and wrapping up my projects for this year, I went to Vancouver, where it snowed nearly every day, riding for pleasure was of the question and I spent a week doing manual labor.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SVo_1p39dvI/AAAAAAAAB54/gKkfrkWTdvc/s1600-h/DSCF1723.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SVo_1p39dvI/AAAAAAAAB54/gKkfrkWTdvc/s320/DSCF1723.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285607303678883570" border="0" /></a><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Aiyana</span> and Jackie are opening up a restaurant on the drive called <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Bandidas</span>. They got the place sometime in December and hope to open in early January. I guess when we got there they had already been working on the place nonstop for weeks, but it still seemed like an impossible job.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SVo_0DwBUJI/AAAAAAAAB5g/4sbxAeAIibY/s1600-h/DSCF1716.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SVo_0DwBUJI/AAAAAAAAB5g/4sbxAeAIibY/s320/DSCF1716.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285607276265164946" border="0" /></a><br />Somehow, the magnitude of the project and the fact that we were all there, just feed into our family's mania for work. We pulled most of the standard moves - working all day without eating, working into the wee hours of the morning and thinking that it was still like 11 or 12, working for seven hours when we meant to just drop by for an hour or two.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SVo_0S1Y9KI/AAAAAAAAB5o/okHaUUQ5cnA/s1600-h/DSCF1717.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SVo_0S1Y9KI/AAAAAAAAB5o/okHaUUQ5cnA/s320/DSCF1717.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285607280314217634" border="0" /></a><br />I didn't think it was possible when I first got there, but now it actually looks like they might get it done in time. Most amazing is that fact that, with the exception of some electrical work, it will all be done by family and friends for no more than free food and booze.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SVo_1OAD8ZI/AAAAAAAAB5w/JgfqrKrzuek/s1600-h/DSCF1720.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SVo_1OAD8ZI/AAAAAAAAB5w/JgfqrKrzuek/s320/DSCF1720.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285607296196669842" border="0" /></a><br />So, for another year in a row, I worked on Christmas. But this time, it really felt like Christmas. The whole world was blanketed in snow and there were Christmas carols playing everywhere, not just at Starbucks.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SVo_13CYYTI/AAAAAAAAB6A/OHAba60rth8/s1600-h/DSCF1725.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SVo_13CYYTI/AAAAAAAAB6A/OHAba60rth8/s320/DSCF1725.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285607307212251442" border="0" /></a><br />But hey, there's nothing like painting, cleaning and stripping glue off of tables with toxic goo while wearing cold, wet shoes day after day to make you really happy to get back to the quiet warmth of your Osaka apartment.Conichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12211880924234536195noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6226171087540524331.post-49766820269853612382008-12-19T00:38:00.006+09:002008-12-19T18:33:58.933+09:00Maiden Ride<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SUpxBLJwTfI/AAAAAAAAB5Y/UU49xM-X4-U/s1600-h/DSCF1703.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SUpxBLJwTfI/AAAAAAAAB5Y/UU49xM-X4-U/s320/DSCF1703.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281157778032840178" border="0" /></a><br />I finished building up the Miyuki the about a week ago, and since I know of no other, she will now be called, simply, Miyuki-chan. Most of the parts, I had around - except the hubs and the toe-straps, which I obviously bought to suit the frame.<br /><br />Above is a picture taken in front of a Pachinko parlor on her maiden ride. I put a drilled fork on it so I can put a break on the front, which I probably will do. But right now, the ride is just so fun I might not get around to it for a while.Conichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12211880924234536195noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6226171087540524331.post-62350029532427788162008-12-09T21:34:00.015+09:002008-12-11T01:21:25.138+09:00Nara and suchJohn was in town for a bit, so we did some touristy stuff. Probably the most impressive thing I saw was this gigantic Buddha in Nara (奈良). We spent all morning in a museum full of Buddhas and I was pretty sure I had seen enough Buddhas to last me for quite a while, so the impression of this one was really something. I can only imagine how I would have felt if I came at it fresh, so to speak.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/ST5qVNR94NI/AAAAAAAAB4g/jjnv7RpLFjs/s1600-h/DSCF1625.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/ST5qVNR94NI/AAAAAAAAB4g/jjnv7RpLFjs/s320/DSCF1625.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277772725899616466" border="0" /></a><br />It's difficult to appreciate in the pictures how big it really is, or even when you're there in person. In fact, to help you get a grip on the size of the thing, the monks have cut a hole in one of the pillars of the building that's the same size as one of the Buddha's nostrils. The whole is big enough for school children to craw through; and so they do. While I was there, I watched a 10 year old kid go through with no problem.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/ST5myAhB2vI/AAAAAAAAB3w/6lab5wmOX-g/s1600-h/DSCF1628.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/ST5myAhB2vI/AAAAAAAAB3w/6lab5wmOX-g/s320/DSCF1628.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277768822642825970" border="0" /></a><br />The Buddha is guarded by various fierce looking figures. This one is a scholar. You can see his brush and his scroll.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/ST5oQLew7KI/AAAAAAAAB34/IM7c3-HViqo/s1600-h/DSCF1629.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/ST5oQLew7KI/AAAAAAAAB34/IM7c3-HViqo/s320/DSCF1629.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277770440493821090" border="0" /></a><br />Probably the best way to get a sense for the size of the Buddha is to see the building that houses it surrounded by tiny people. The Buddha's seat reaches all the way up to the roof of that building.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/ST5qttGjQkI/AAAAAAAAB44/_xNhAckl1VE/s1600-h/DSCF1616.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/ST5qttGjQkI/AAAAAAAAB44/_xNhAckl1VE/s320/DSCF1616.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277773146758529602" border="0" /></a><br />On a different day, we went for a bit of a hike in a town called Mino (箕面), north of Osaka. At the end of November, the leaves were turning here, so it's the best season to see the red leaves.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/ST5qVe9w-GI/AAAAAAAAB4o/I0WVN42QeFc/s1600-h/DSCF1643.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/ST5qVe9w-GI/AAAAAAAAB4o/I0WVN42QeFc/s320/DSCF1643.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277772730646722658" border="0" /></a><br />The area where we went was actually packed with people, but you could get off the busy paths pretty easily and have a quiet hike.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/ST5qUbnYmWI/AAAAAAAAB4Y/62aSLzpFZ1o/s1600-h/DSCF1645.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/ST5qUbnYmWI/AAAAAAAAB4Y/62aSLzpFZ1o/s320/DSCF1645.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277772712567675234" border="0" /></a><br />And, just so you don't think these days it's all about Buddhas and autumn leaves, here are some other random shots.<br /><br />It's the x-mas season here now, so these sample girls, at one of the big stations in Umeda, are dressed up to match the season, as - Oh, I don't know - sexy, black Santas. They're handing out free samples of luxury, high-end cat food. You know, 'cause nothing says Christmas like giving your cat gourmet food that you got from a sample girl dressed in a sexy French maid costume that's really a Santa costume.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/ST5qVi4OM2I/AAAAAAAAB4w/DHYYZ9mxl5w/s1600-h/DSCF1656.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 189px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/ST5qVi4OM2I/AAAAAAAAB4w/DHYYZ9mxl5w/s320/DSCF1656.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277772731697214306" border="0" /></a><br />And then, out by the docks near the international convention halls, we have an ominous building somewhat vaguely called "Service Center" - where everything is yellow.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/ST5mwWQJbII/AAAAAAAAB3Q/f1GsHRE1MV8/s1600-h/DSCF1570.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/ST5mwWQJbII/AAAAAAAAB3Q/f1GsHRE1MV8/s320/DSCF1570.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277768794117860482" border="0" /></a><br />A few weeks back, I took another friend out to Nagasawa's shop and on the way out we walked by a sort of suburban stripmall. Below, you see the shelves in the parking lot where a liquor store keeps all it's bulk beer. There was no one around and no sign of any security, but there it was, just sitting there, right by the road - cases upon cases of booze. In the plastic cartons to the right, there are individual bottles of beer - again, let me reiterate, within easy reach of anyone who happened by.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/ST5r39m-95I/AAAAAAAAB5A/pN0cwNA1R7w/s1600-h/DSCF1604.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/ST5r39m-95I/AAAAAAAAB5A/pN0cwNA1R7w/s320/DSCF1604.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277774422499850130" border="0" /></a><br />Finally, a picture of a host, before going out on Saturday night, saying a quick prayer at a local shrine. After he threw his money into the container, he tucked his white Louis Vuitton bag between his legs, bent his head, pressed his hands together and said whatever it is one says under such circumstances.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/ST5oRX93y6I/AAAAAAAAB4Q/zNlfdhPQoVY/s1600-h/DSCF1671.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/ST5oRX93y6I/AAAAAAAAB4Q/zNlfdhPQoVY/s320/DSCF1671.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277770461025389474" border="0" /></a>Conichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12211880924234536195noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6226171087540524331.post-18272752744907756402008-11-06T23:16:00.016+09:002008-11-07T14:10:36.684+09:00Election 2008I've been out of the States for the last three elections. In 2000 I was in Toronto. I was a bit let down by the result, but I kind of expected it. Also, I had no idea that Bush was going to be such a disaster. After all, in his first campaign, he ran as a moderate conservative.<br /><br />The 2004 election was pretty heartbreaking. All day, while I was working in the basement of Massey College, Toronto, the exit polls were showing a Kerry win, but when I went out at night to a bar to watch the coverage, the reality began to become clear. Then Ohio and Florida fell and it was all over. I remember feeling like the floor was falling out from under me. I was surrounded by Canadians, who cared but didn't care nearly enough, who had not voted and were already showing signs of retreating to their precious moral high-ground from which they could smugly claim that such things would never happen in the safer, saner Northern America.<br /><br />Japan was a great time zone to watch from but it was a bit strange culturally. Ken was aware of the historical significance of the election, but a lot of my Japanese friends just didn't understand why it was so important - why I was so excited. The East Coast polls started to close about midday through my workday on the 5th. By the time I was done with work, it was clear that Barack Obama would be declared the president elect of the United States.<br /><br />When I got off work, I went to an international bar to meet some friends and celebrate with other Americans. Everyone was excited and it was the first time in years that I felt really proud to be an American.<br /><br />While I watched Obama giving his speech, I cried. I also heard a line that made me realize why I felt so proud - that reminded me what it is that I do believe in about America. Obama said,<br /><br /><blockquote>The true strength of our nation comes not from the might of our arms or the scale of our wealth but from the enduring power of our ideals - democracy, liberty, opportunity and unyielding hope.</blockquote><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.princeton.edu/%7Ervdb/JAVA/election2008/" target="_blank"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SRL8TTXJgrI/AAAAAAAABUc/wWNWg66eWso/s320/Election2008.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265548322894611122" border="0" /></a><br />In fact, for regular people who aren't American citizens, maybe even for a lot of regular American citizens, these are the only things that can really be regarded <span style="font-style: italic;">as</span> America's strength. When we move so far away from these ideals, appearing to turn our backs on them - as has happened often in our history - we become a hollow mockery of ourselves.<br /><blockquote>For <em>sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;</em><br /><em>Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds</em>.<br /><div style="text-align: right;">- W. Shakespeare<br /></div></blockquote>Conichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12211880924234536195noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6226171087540524331.post-3105256186504091422008-11-01T22:37:00.005+09:002008-11-02T13:33:22.917+09:00Waseda Interview<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SQxdruYiUpI/AAAAAAAABUU/r2ALOA9E0X0/s1600-h/DSCF1468.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 223px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SQxdruYiUpI/AAAAAAAABUU/r2ALOA9E0X0/s320/DSCF1468.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263685070255968914" border="0" /></a>This weekend I went up to Tokyo to interview for a professorship in the history of science at Waseda University.<br /><br />Now I have interviewed at wealthy private schools in both the US and Japan, and the experiences were very different. At Caltech, everything was paid for by the school, at Waseda, I paid my own travel expenses. At Caltech, the interviewing process lasted from eight in the morning until eight in the evening, at Waseda, it was over in an hour and forty five minutes. At Waseda, I was never told any one's names, at Caltech, I learned the names of over fifteen people and struggled to try to remember them. At Waseda, I wore a tie, at Caltech, I did not.<br /><br />This picture below kind of sums up my feeling about the whole thing. I went into the front office and bumbled through a conversation in Japanese in which they used various words that I didn't understand, but eventually we got everything straightened out.<br /><br />Then they took me to a lecture room so that I could set up my laptop for overhead projection. After everything was set up they took me to another classroom to wait by myself while the selection committee went into the first room. They told me it would be about half an hour, but since I forgot my watch in the other room, it felt like an eternity. It was, in fact, as I found out when I was shown back into the original room, exactly half an hour.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SQxdU3K20dI/AAAAAAAABUE/uOpiP6s2zKI/s1600-h/DSCF1472.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SQxdU3K20dI/AAAAAAAABUE/uOpiP6s2zKI/s320/DSCF1472.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263684677477519826" border="0" /></a><br />Everyone was seated when I went in. I was asked to introduce myself, which I did. Then I gave a 30 minute mock lecture that I had practiced every evening for the preceding week, and which, consequently, went well. This was followed by a fifteen minute question and answer period. There were a few simple questions in Japanese, that I answered in Japanese and one more complicated question in Japanese that I answered in English, but thankfully most of the questions were in English. But the fifteen minutes went by in a blur and then it was over. Everyone filed out. On the way out, one British professor (who had been sure to point out that Eton is spelled Eton, not Eaton), asked me if I was going back to Osaka that night. I said I was, and that was that.<br /><br />In the main Tokyo station I noticed these annoying benches. They reminded me of some benches that Mike Davis talks about in his social history of Las Angeles, <span style="font-style: italic;">City of Quartz</span> (1990). Apparently, the city of LA was trying to discourage homeless people from sleeping on the benches in certain parts of the city so they designed them with curved seats, so that you could sit on them but you couldn't lay down on them for any length of time.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SQxdUfE9_fI/AAAAAAAABT8/f5rRz6dWGAw/s1600-h/DSCF1471.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SQxdUfE9_fI/AAAAAAAABT8/f5rRz6dWGAw/s320/DSCF1471.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263684671010373106" border="0" /></a><br />Well, the Tokyo transportation system has taken it to a new level. Here you see some benches that you can lean on but they're specially designed so that you can't actually sit on them. Tokyoites, however, can sleep standing up on a crowded train so they should actually have no trouble sleeping on these leaner benches.Conichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12211880924234536195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6226171087540524331.post-74872041444980563232008-10-29T23:15:00.005+09:002008-11-04T00:26:12.693+09:00A shoemakerThe other evening a friend and I were looking for a restaurant in my neighborhood and we ran across this place that seemed to be selling a pair and a half of shoes.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SQhzJRgUDwI/AAAAAAAABT0/pbgjSZaHclc/s1600-h/DSCF1448.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SQhzJRgUDwI/AAAAAAAABT0/pbgjSZaHclc/s320/DSCF1448.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262582767737376514" border="0" /></a><br />I could see some leather rolls in the back, however, so I pointed out that it was probably a shoemaker's and, of course, we proceeded to get into an argument about the place of hand-made shoes in the modern world.<br /><br />Eventually, the shoemaker saw us out there carrying on this discussion and invited us in to see his shop.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SQhzJFwXo2I/AAAAAAAABTs/kER23T26so0/s1600-h/DSCF1447.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SQhzJFwXo2I/AAAAAAAABTs/kER23T26so0/s320/DSCF1447.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262582764583494498" border="0" /></a><br />He seemed to me to be pretty young for a shoemaker. He was definitely younger than me, although, speaking frankly, this can no longer be regarded as much of a criterion for youth.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SQhzIhuK0uI/AAAAAAAABTk/JNf_-lqFtM0/s1600-h/DSCF1442.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SQhzIhuK0uI/AAAAAAAABTk/JNf_-lqFtM0/s320/DSCF1442.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262582754910589666" border="0" /></a><br />Apparently, he was trained in various famous shoemaking shops in Italy and England and he seemed to care as much about shoes as anybody who has taken the time necessary to develop real skill in something cares about that thing for which they have given so many of their hours.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SQhzIfkAR8I/AAAAAAAABTc/Ucwm5rNqDOo/s1600-h/DSCF1443.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 183px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SQhzIfkAR8I/AAAAAAAABTc/Ucwm5rNqDOo/s320/DSCF1443.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262582754331084738" border="0" /></a><br />He was able to talk endlessly about the various leathers - where they come from and what they are best suited for - the machines - all of which came from Germany - and that each pair of shoes is entirely custom made based on a cast of the client's foot. His shoes start at around 100,000円.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SQhzH2AkBWI/AAAAAAAABTU/cO6NrWDTXdQ/s1600-h/DSCF1438.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SQhzH2AkBWI/AAAAAAAABTU/cO6NrWDTXdQ/s320/DSCF1438.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262582743176578402" border="0" /></a><br />My friend asked him what was the most difficult thing about being a shoemaker and he said that all ladies want an elegant shoe - something that is slim and graceful - but the ladies who could afford a 100,000円 pair of shoes tend to be both fat and ugly, and it is only with great skill and diligence that a shoe that looks slim and graceful can be made to bear such a lady.Conichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12211880924234536195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6226171087540524331.post-2391854382994823802008-10-23T20:50:00.005+09:002008-10-23T21:13:42.132+09:00Tokyo TripI went up to Tokyo last weekend to give a talk at a small conference on history of mathematics at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Tsuda</span> College (津田塾大学), a girl's school famous for its superior mathematics program. I stayed at a friends house that night and the next day, before I went home, I did some shopping and took a walk around the campus of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Waseda</span> University (早稲田大学).<br /><br />Here are some shots of the interior of <a href="http://bluelug.jp/">Blue Lug</a>, a specialty bike shop in Tokyo kind of near Shibuya Station that has the endearing motto <span style="font-style: italic;">It's only bicycle, but we like it.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SQBnkCSSgLI/AAAAAAAABSs/C8LmVQhMJs8/s1600-h/DSCF1420.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SQBnkCSSgLI/AAAAAAAABSs/C8LmVQhMJs8/s320/DSCF1420.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260318233555271858" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SQBn7QexRtI/AAAAAAAABTM/OJHU1eoCOGw/s1600-h/DSCF1419.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SQBn7QexRtI/AAAAAAAABTM/OJHU1eoCOGw/s320/DSCF1419.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260318632502707922" border="0" /></a><br />Here's a apartment building near <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Waseda</span>. The front has a some shops, including this hair salon.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SQBnlYzSTpI/AAAAAAAABTE/4BsOXoQiit0/s1600-h/DSCF1413.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SQBnlYzSTpI/AAAAAAAABTE/4BsOXoQiit0/s320/DSCF1413.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260318256779120274" border="0" /></a><br />The entry to another store goes over this wicked tiled demon with a big, long tongue.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SQBnkunxRuI/AAAAAAAABS0/1oP6s4yQjKs/s1600-h/DSCF1409.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SQBnkunxRuI/AAAAAAAABS0/1oP6s4yQjKs/s320/DSCF1409.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260318245456529122" border="0" /></a><br />The demon looks like it has some kind of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">piercing</span> with an <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">ornament</span> in its <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">tongue</span>. Or maybe that's just a bug.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SQBnk1UKW0I/AAAAAAAABS8/mXi-9Qfn7L0/s1600-h/DSCF1412.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SQBnk1UKW0I/AAAAAAAABS8/mXi-9Qfn7L0/s320/DSCF1412.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260318247253334850" border="0" /></a>Conichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12211880924234536195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6226171087540524331.post-12483160701081666402008-10-09T22:06:00.006+09:002008-10-09T23:39:55.350+09:00A Miyuki FrameI bought this Miyuki frame in a little shop under Shinimamiya Station (新今宮駅), down near Kamagasaki. The shop used to specialize in BMXes, but lately they've been getting a lot of old track stuff in. I picked up this Miyuki for a number of reasons. I've been meaning to get another frame for a commuter and this one was pretty suitable. It's a handmade steal frame and it was a reasonable price (20,000円).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SO4G_Py9ijI/AAAAAAAABSE/sM1I9JFOL3c/s1600-h/DSCF1298.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SO4G_Py9ijI/AAAAAAAABSE/sM1I9JFOL3c/s320/DSCF1298.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255145498829752882" border="0" /></a><br />I had never heard of a Miyuki frame before and that was one of the reasons I decided to buy this one. From what I have found out, Miyuki was a small factory in Tokyo that has since closed down. Apparently one of the frame builders went on to work at 3Rensho. This frame is marked 130 on the BB and is probably the 130th frame they built. It is made of Ishiwata Croston 019 double butted cromo tubes.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SO4G_fhzZhI/AAAAAAAABSM/kIT4-nIHrAk/s1600-h/DSCF1296.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SO4G_fhzZhI/AAAAAAAABSM/kIT4-nIHrAk/s320/DSCF1296.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255145503052752402" border="0" /></a><br />Aside from having a cute Japanese girl's name, or rather a name that you could imagine belonging to a cute Japanese girl, there are a number of other endearing features to this frame. The logo, for instance, is somehow strangely incongruous with the name and appears to be a snooty rooster starring off into the middle distance.<br /><br />There are also a number of platitudes stated on the frame in various places. For example under the striped Miyuki label on the seat tube, in Italian, it reads, <span style="font-style: italic;">Campione del Mondo. </span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SO4G_cIc6dI/AAAAAAAABSU/fLfJw9k-jBU/s1600-h/DSCF1293.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SO4G_cIc6dI/AAAAAAAABSU/fLfJw9k-jBU/s320/DSCF1293.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255145502141114834" border="0" /></a><br />In a number of places, and shown here on the top tube, we find the English phrase <span style="font-style: italic;">GAZING AT THE IMPOSSIBLE, </span>which appears to be a sort of motto. One wonders, then, if the rooster is perhaps not so much a snob as somehow transfixed by this act of constant gazing over such vast distances. Or perhaps, long hours of such gazing has lead to a certain frustration, and in turn a sort of anger at the pain and absurdity of it all.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SO4G_kDGIfI/AAAAAAAABSc/u-eBOjAkR9M/s1600-h/DSCF1294.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SO4G_kDGIfI/AAAAAAAABSc/u-eBOjAkR9M/s320/DSCF1294.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255145504266134002" border="0" /></a><br />Finally, we have a personalized adaptation of a John Lennon lyric, <span style="font-style: italic;">You may say we are dreamers, someday you will join us,</span> which is signed by the frame builders or the owners of the shop<span style="font-style: italic;">. </span>I don't really know what a statement like this means in the context of being stuck on a non-drive side chain stay. I guess it's more to do with the impossible and the kinds of responses they had been getting for staring at it all the time.<br /><br />I don't really know what to make of it all, but I couldn't say no to riding a bike called Miyuki rocking an angry rooster.<br /><br />If anyone has any real information on Miyuki, drop me a comment.Conichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12211880924234536195noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6226171087540524331.post-19821079589348244142008-09-09T13:37:00.011+09:002008-11-07T14:12:34.392+09:00Some pictures from KyotoOne of the malls attached to Kyoto JR Station.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SMX-5xRleJI/AAAAAAAABP0/iian8NCTbgc/s1600-h/DSCF1159.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SMX-5xRleJI/AAAAAAAABP0/iian8NCTbgc/s320/DSCF1159.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243877609575905426" border="0" /></a><br />The grounds of Ryoan-ji (龍安寺), widely regarded as one of Japan's most beautiful temples.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SMX-6WiugDI/AAAAAAAABP8/xHCIeLSL_34/s1600-h/DSCF1233.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SMX-6WiugDI/AAAAAAAABP8/xHCIeLSL_34/s320/DSCF1233.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243877619579912242" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SMX-6zzzH_I/AAAAAAAABQE/OFr7etGmkpc/s1600-h/DSCF1235.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SMX-6zzzH_I/AAAAAAAABQE/OFr7etGmkpc/s320/DSCF1235.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243877627436146674" border="0" /></a><br />The rock garden inside Ryoan-ji, made up of fifteen rocks and white gravel. This garden is considered to be a masterpiece. You can buy a booklet about it in Japanese that has over a page devoted to each rock.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SMX-7fRuE-I/AAAAAAAABQM/jvymR-ZNS7Q/s1600-h/DSCF1246.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SMX-7fRuE-I/AAAAAAAABQM/jvymR-ZNS7Q/s320/DSCF1246.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243877639104369634" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SMX-7iis-PI/AAAAAAAABQU/KbQLAvIlmeY/s1600-h/DSCF1244.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SMX-7iis-PI/AAAAAAAABQU/KbQLAvIlmeY/s320/DSCF1244.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243877639980906738" border="0" /></a><br />Some pictures of Ninna-ji (仁和寺), which was at one time an imperial palace and is now the headquarters of one of the Buddhist sects.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SMYBfMc2LmI/AAAAAAAABQc/dwlp1ROVrOY/s1600-h/DSCF1254.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SMYBfMc2LmI/AAAAAAAABQc/dwlp1ROVrOY/s320/DSCF1254.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243880451549310562" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SMYBfTTg4SI/AAAAAAAABQk/ZZiOiyUXdek/s1600-h/DSCF1257.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SMYBfTTg4SI/AAAAAAAABQk/ZZiOiyUXdek/s320/DSCF1257.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243880453389213986" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SMYBfhjBYzI/AAAAAAAABQs/0iFa8EY4m8A/s1600-h/DSCF1261.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SMYBfhjBYzI/AAAAAAAABQs/0iFa8EY4m8A/s320/DSCF1261.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243880457212355378" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SMYBf62anJI/AAAAAAAABQ0/2NzgBlCIEwg/s1600-h/DSCF1262.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SMYBf62anJI/AAAAAAAABQ0/2NzgBlCIEwg/s320/DSCF1262.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243880464004586642" border="0" /></a><br />Another temple complex called Myoshin-ji (妙心寺).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SMYF3ya0KGI/AAAAAAAABRs/rnuAJZxfsBw/s1600-h/DSCF1271.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SMYF3ya0KGI/AAAAAAAABRs/rnuAJZxfsBw/s320/DSCF1271.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243885272104708194" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SMYBf2kaXfI/AAAAAAAABQ8/vkjU25EdIXo/s1600-h/DSCF1270.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SMYBf2kaXfI/AAAAAAAABQ8/vkjU25EdIXo/s320/DSCF1270.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243880462855331314" border="0" /></a><br />Here's a guy playing golf in park. It was pretty small park, so I'm not sure how he was really able to play.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SMYFVeOcmlI/AAAAAAAABRU/sIJKb_dm9fM/s1600-h/DSCF1225.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SMYFVeOcmlI/AAAAAAAABRU/sIJKb_dm9fM/s320/DSCF1225.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243884682568571474" border="0" /></a><br />A night scene in Yasakajinja (八坂神社).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SMYFU05xHoI/AAAAAAAABRE/6vEG2gfPhqE/s1600-h/DSCF1182.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SMYFU05xHoI/AAAAAAAABRE/6vEG2gfPhqE/s320/DSCF1182.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243884671475981954" border="0" /></a><br />The main gates of Yasakajinja.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SMYFViWCLPI/AAAAAAAABRc/vqPfskvKpQs/s1600-h/DSCF1204.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SMYFViWCLPI/AAAAAAAABRc/vqPfskvKpQs/s320/DSCF1204.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243884683674135794" border="0" /></a><br />Looking out from the gates onto the Kawaramachi area (河原町).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SMYNyhlOVTI/AAAAAAAABR8/8YhesV7I3gE/s1600-h/DSCF1201.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SMYNyhlOVTI/AAAAAAAABR8/8YhesV7I3gE/s320/DSCF1201.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243893977778640178" border="0" /></a><br />This creepy looking thing below, was actually pretty creepy.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SMYFVzy-6UI/AAAAAAAABRk/VzLrD0PQQV0/s1600-h/DSCF1218.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SMYFVzy-6UI/AAAAAAAABRk/VzLrD0PQQV0/s320/DSCF1218.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243884688358959426" border="0" /></a><br />I don't know what its called, but it's to help people put an end to bad relationships. You write about your relationship on a slip of paper from the lighted desk, paste it onto the blob, with all the other descriptions of bad relationships, and then craw through that dark hole.<br /><br />I tried to read some of the slips. Most of them seemed to be about people, but there were also discussions of smokes, booze, gambling and such. I was then told that it was in bad form to be reading the slips.Conichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12211880924234536195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6226171087540524331.post-74949702188648915822008-09-07T22:09:00.004+09:002008-10-10T12:08:06.492+09:00New ComputerI basically use my computer all day everyday so I seem to burn through them pretty quickly. Over the last few months my silver G4 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Powerbook</span> started to whine and eventually the CD drive died. Actually, it somehow simultaneously lost the ability to read <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">CDs</span> and to eject them at the same time. The only way to get the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">CDs</span> out was with a credit card. Credit card insertion, however, seemed to have no effect on the machine's ability to read the disks.<br /><br />For awhile I toyed with the idea of getting a Japanese Mac. I went down to the Apple Store a few times and tired them out. Everything was fine except one or two keys were in different places and I couldn't for the life of me find the open quote mark. (Maybe this explains why Japanese people so often enclose their quotes in English with two closing marks.) Eventually, however, I decided to special order a Mac with a US keyboard. This time, contrary to my usual practice, I didn't buy the top of the line model. My old Mac already did everything I needed and the current mid-range models blows it away.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SMPTRKPuM3I/AAAAAAAABPs/LrN3VhrYF_Y/s1600-h/DSCF1148.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SMPTRKPuM3I/AAAAAAAABPs/LrN3VhrYF_Y/s320/DSCF1148.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243266682950923122" border="0" /></a><br />It was a typical Japanese affair. They delivered the computer to the front door of my apartment a few days later and I handed them a huge wad of cash.<br /><br />The transition between computers was painless. There's a special function for updating from your old Mac and I used this. It imported my home directory and all my applications, preferences, everything. In less than an hour I had my work environment exactly as I wanted it and everything now worked twice as fast and looked a bit better. This was the fastest computer upgrade of my life.<br /><br />Below is new style of vending machines that are popping up at some of the bigger stations. The label in blue reads "Natural Disaster Response Style Vending Machine" (<span style="font-style: italic;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">saigai-taiougata</span>-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">jidouhanbaiki</span>, </span>災害対応型自動販売機). The red line above this informs you that in the event of a natural disaster the contents will be free. It does so in a sort of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">cryptic</span> style of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Kanji</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">abbreviation</span> which is perfectly <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">intelligible</span> when you look at it, but if you just said it to someone they would have no idea what you meant.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SMPTQjnZ5uI/AAAAAAAABPk/jaMnH3tmj9o/s1600-h/DSCF1275.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SMPTQjnZ5uI/AAAAAAAABPk/jaMnH3tmj9o/s320/DSCF1275.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243266672581273314" border="0" /></a>Conichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12211880924234536195noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6226171087540524331.post-90958728588445781372008-08-22T01:20:00.008+09:002008-08-27T21:04:13.540+09:00Strange SignsWhen I first moved to Japan, I was collecting passages of strange English, but this was too large a project and it quickly got boring. Now, I'm just taking pictures of weird signs I see around town.<br /><br />You see these ominous signs on a lot of the public ashtrays around town in front of the convenience stores and whatnot. Notice how the smoke has morphed into a "stalker." The English is neither a literal nor literary translation but it gets the point across.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SK2WlWrFu1I/AAAAAAAABOk/O-VGi6LWVsc/s1600-h/DSCF0934.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SK2WlWrFu1I/AAAAAAAABOk/O-VGi6LWVsc/s320/DSCF0934.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237007510187391826" border="0" /></a><br />The other day I was in a ramen shop and they had these large vessels full of ice water on each table. The vessel itself was called a "Double cock keeper." On the side of each of the Double cock keepers was a device called a "Peacock." As the label says, the Peacock can be folded out as a stand for paper cups. In this shop, however, as usual everyone got their own cup, so we could serve ourselves all the ice water we wanted straight from the Double cock keeper with no need for the Peacock.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SK2ZMqRTItI/AAAAAAAABPM/vLtT5Xivx9A/s1600-h/080714_2107%7E0001.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SK2ZMqRTItI/AAAAAAAABPM/vLtT5Xivx9A/s320/080714_2107%7E0001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237010384486081234" border="0" /></a><br />In Osaka, by law one has to separate one's recycling and bring out the right stuff on the right day. Since, most apartments are fairly small, you can buy all kinds of bins to help make this easier. Here's one that they sell at the Loft, which can apparently be put to other uses as well. What do you put?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SK2Wly7Ro-I/AAAAAAAABO0/b529PsnPFfw/s1600-h/DSCF0459.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SK2Wly7Ro-I/AAAAAAAABO0/b529PsnPFfw/s320/DSCF0459.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237007517771473890" border="0" /></a><br />This bed linen is also found at Loft, a great chain with huge store fronts at every major train station.. Loft clearly loves English, but somehow can't find room in it's budget to hire any of the poor English teachers to take a quick look over its ad copy. Nevertheless, for all my mocking, this is now my bed linen brand of choice. For one thing, I like the simplicity of the branding, and for another, I don't want there to be any more confusion of about the type of space I prefer to be sleeping in.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SK2ZM6NXMsI/AAAAAAAABPU/b4q5z570lYM/s1600-h/Bed_linen.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SK2ZM6NXMsI/AAAAAAAABPU/b4q5z570lYM/s320/Bed_linen.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237010388764537538" border="0" /></a><br /><br />A friend of mine recently moved into Juso (十三), a notoriously sleazy neighborhood full of love hotels, pink shops, hostess bars, and Chinese massage girls working nearly every street corner. Here's the awning of a nearby love hotel. I'm not really sure what to make of it and I welcome any comments. The business about condoms is fairly straight forward, but what is A.A.A. in this context? As for injunction to get into a train, there was no locomotive theme to the hotel, so I don't know if it's some prison lingo or just totally off the hook.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SK2WlptVw2I/AAAAAAAABOs/W1RB0Kci2GQ/s1600-h/DSCF1030.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SK2WlptVw2I/AAAAAAAABOs/W1RB0Kci2GQ/s320/DSCF1030.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237007515297104738" border="0" /></a><br />This final sign is a common notice in the train stations around town. It tells you, in case you were in doubt about such things, that it is, indeed, a crime to molest people on the train. Actually, the first line is in Osaka-ben and then the rest is in standard Japanese. The word chikan (痴漢) can mean a molester in general, but in the context of a train station it means a groper. The sign reads something like "Molestation, No Way!" (<span style="font-style: italic;">chican akan</span>!, チカン/アカン) "Molestation is a crime!" (<span style="font-style: italic;">chican wa hanzai desu</span>, 痴漢は犯罪です!).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SK2ZM-9CqjI/AAAAAAAABPc/5PZytggN41w/s1600-h/080820_2304%7E0001.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SK2ZM-9CqjI/AAAAAAAABPc/5PZytggN41w/s320/080820_2304%7E0001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237010390038260274" border="0" /></a>Conichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12211880924234536195noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6226171087540524331.post-67648195525005927502008-08-19T03:11:00.004+09:002008-08-19T03:30:18.221+09:00My BirthdayThe cake that Mom and Pop sent me arrived on Friday, and I ate it with some friends on Saturday afternoon, in a heat that was so intense the pieces melted as we were holding them. As usual, somehow I was grumpy all day on my Birthday.<br /><br />In the evening, I went to a restaurant in Umeda that's famous for its view. You can see why from this picture. The food was delicious and we ate it as the sun went down and the city began to light up. I finally began to cheer up as we ate.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SKm_Iw7RqGI/AAAAAAAABOc/44Q0PKXp5Fc/s1600-h/DSCF1125.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SKm_Iw7RqGI/AAAAAAAABOc/44Q0PKXp5Fc/s320/DSCF1125.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235926199088293986" border="0" /></a><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span>Here you can see the top of the JR Osaka station, Yodobashi Camera (a gigantic electronics store), the Umeda Sky Building, and various industrial plants and skyscrapers. In the background, you see the Yodagawa and Juso.Conichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12211880924234536195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6226171087540524331.post-6213664007643591162008-07-11T23:18:00.005+09:002008-11-13T20:12:00.782+09:00Taishou WardTaishou Ward (大正区) is kind of like an industrial wasteland down near the ports except that there are actually a lot of residences there as well. I guess because the factories and dock yards are so ugly, you see a lot more people growing flowers on their verandas and on the sidewalks in front of their houses than in other areas of town.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SHdxuLp9LBI/AAAAAAAABN8/vYzGZkJ09t8/s1600-h/DSCF0916.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SHdxuLp9LBI/AAAAAAAABN8/vYzGZkJ09t8/s320/DSCF0916.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221767331176066066" border="0" /></a><br />Here's a big crane that separates piles of metal based on a set of criteria that is not always evident to the untrained eye. This is kind of representative of Taishou Ward, but the thing to remember is that Osaka is actually a huge industrial city and the bright lights and bling of the downtown areas are supplied by these outer Wards. The bentos that millions of people eat every day for lunch are prepared every morning in suburbs like Taishou.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SHdvNRdTBII/AAAAAAAABNc/VHO1wW_aJJ4/s1600-h/DSCF0909.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SHdvNRdTBII/AAAAAAAABNc/VHO1wW_aJJ4/s320/DSCF0909.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221764566774645890" border="0" /></a><br />The Ward is actually a collection of islands and peninsulas and there are free pedestrian ferries that you can use to cross the channels. Over the weekend, some friends and I wend on a ride around the Ward basing our route on the ferry terminals.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SHdvNDPTSeI/AAAAAAAABNU/zDHWIIeg12k/s1600-h/DSCF0923.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SHdvNDPTSeI/AAAAAAAABNU/zDHWIIeg12k/s320/DSCF0923.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221764562957847010" border="0" /></a><br />A few of the ferry routs are longer, but most of them just cut across a narrow channel.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SHdvNy0NSnI/AAAAAAAABNk/Ll1CNPKE1mc/s1600-h/DSCF0901.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SHdvNy0NSnI/AAAAAAAABNk/Ll1CNPKE1mc/s320/DSCF0901.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221764575729109618" border="0" /></a><br />In order to build the freeway bridges over the channels high enough for the big ships, they have these crazy circular ramps so the vehicles can ascend at a gradual slope.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SHdvOS9zGnI/AAAAAAAABNs/SO3eBXqKN28/s1600-h/DSCF0914.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SHdvOS9zGnI/AAAAAAAABNs/SO3eBXqKN28/s320/DSCF0914.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221764584359271026" border="0" /></a><br />This one near the ferry terminal has a baseball field in the middle of it. There was no game when I took the picture, but at other times I have seen little league games here, with the kids playing, the dads yelling and the cars driving around in circles. (The sign asks you to please refrain from crossing through the middle of the grounds.)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SHdxt4yMr5I/AAAAAAAABN0/se2qrMoBbmE/s1600-h/DSCF0910.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SHdxt4yMr5I/AAAAAAAABN0/se2qrMoBbmE/s320/DSCF0910.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221767326110363538" border="0" /></a><br />There are these nets to protect pedestrians from getting hit by fly balls that are tipped back over the home plate, but nothing at all to protect the cars from fly balls or home runs. Actually, it's kind satisfying to think of hitting a home run as knocking a ball into a freeway.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SHdxunmE1fI/AAAAAAAABOM/wd3-dIrq1ow/s1600-h/DSCF0919.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SHdxunmE1fI/AAAAAAAABOM/wd3-dIrq1ow/s320/DSCF0919.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221767338675983858" border="0" /></a><br />Osaka was one of the first ports opened for trade with foreign countries and the ports and loading docks of south Osaka are still a major thoroughfare for imports. This green bridge like thing is apparently a storm gate that can be lowered in case of a hurricane to prevent the high waters from sending waves deep into the city.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SHdvMg9UX9I/AAAAAAAABNM/ELv8kTrCzro/s1600-h/DSCF0896.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SHdvMg9UX9I/AAAAAAAABNM/ELv8kTrCzro/s320/DSCF0896.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221764553755615186" border="0" /></a>Conichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12211880924234536195noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6226171087540524331.post-24367117043811068852008-06-21T23:09:00.005+09:002008-11-13T20:12:01.652+09:00Another Riot in Kamagasaki<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="t_nihongo_kanji" lang="ja">Officially, Kamagasaki </span></span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="t_nihongo_kanji" lang="ja">(釜ヶ崎) </span></span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="t_nihongo_kanji" lang="ja">doesn't exist anymore </span><span class="t_nihongo_norom" style="display: none;"><span class="t_nihongo_comma" style="display: none;">,</span> <i><span class="t_nihongo_romaji"><b>Kamagasak</b></span></i></span></span>and you wont find the name on a current map of Osaka, but that's what the locals still call the large slum in the northeast corner of Nishinari-ku (西成区).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SF0QiHbLCtI/AAAAAAAABNE/Pk910eouJcU/s1600-h/DSCF0871.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SF0QiHbLCtI/AAAAAAAABNE/Pk910eouJcU/s320/DSCF0871.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214342121859517138" border="0" /></a><br />Kamagasaki has traditionally been a day labor's neighborhood and the local hotels have average nightly rates of 1,500円, but the population is aging and even at this price many of them can't afford a room and sleep in the streets. <span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="t_nihongo_kanji" lang="ja">The area is famous in Japan as the largest slum in the country, with high homelessness rates and a long history of intermittent rioting.<br /><br />A couple weeks ago, a day laborer was picked up by police detectives in one of the local shoutengai, taken to the police station, beaten in the face and hung upside down from ropes. When he was released the next day with no charges, he went and told his friends what had happened. In response, about 300 workers surrounded the police station and demanded that the police chief apologize and that the defectives be fired.<br /><br />This lead to four or five days of rioting. The other night, a friend and I decided to ride down and check it out. It was raining pretty hard that night, and the riots had quieted down.<br /></span></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SF0NBDrYfZI/AAAAAAAABMs/ntpllZ4HM-Y/s1600-h/DSCF0883.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SF0NBDrYfZI/AAAAAAAABMs/ntpllZ4HM-Y/s320/DSCF0883.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214338255383199122" border="0" /></a><br />I took these shots while I was riding, so they're pretty shaky. A few of the pictures that I thought would be the best didn't come out, because I wasn't actually looking at the view finder while I rode.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SF0NAe_R6gI/AAAAAAAABMk/vFJtAKtEOpQ/s1600-h/DSCF0880.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SF0NAe_R6gI/AAAAAAAABMk/vFJtAKtEOpQ/s320/DSCF0880.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214338245534542338" border="0" /></a><br />After we rode through Kamgasaki we headed back to Shinsekai, where Biliken, the god of things-as-they-ought-to-be, is always watching with his malevolent grin.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SF0NBYm0OCI/AAAAAAAABM0/HA9T07pLiJA/s1600-h/DSCF0893.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NlrMShbjCEA/SF0NBYm0OCI/AAAAAAAABM0/HA9T07pLiJA/s320/DSCF0893.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214338261001189410" border="0" /></a>Conichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12211880924234536195noreply@blogger.com1