Culinary Delights?

When you think of Japanese food, what do you think of? The usual, sushi, tempura, edamame, teriyaki chicken, and all those other things you might mistake for Thai since they are also offered at most Thai restaurants in Cincinnati. Whew...long sentence...

Well, how about a fascination with mayonnaise? Yes, that's right, mayo; white, creamy and tastes good on a BLT. How about mayo on pizza? In Japan, that's as common as Domino's pizza, Pizza-La, or any other pizza company you can think of operating here. With such flavors and Tuna and Mayo, potatoes and mayo, and of course, corn and mayo, how could you go wrong? The picture isn't the best, but you can see some of the pictures with white stripes crisscrossing on the otherwise delicious looking pies.

And, the fascination with mayo doesn't end with pizza. Before I go on, I must mention that when you buy mayo in Japan, it is not refrigerated. I believe you are supposed to refrigerate after opening, but that is no fun; at least that is what the convenience stores think. Convenience stores are as common as gas stations used to be in America 50 years ago. You can throw stones from one to the next from Kyushu all the way to Hokkaido (southern most island to northern most island). It is there where you can find different types of sandwiches and bento boxes for people on the go. It is also there where you can find things like hot dogs with mayo; bacon, mayo and corn in a flaky crust; mayo and corn pizza; and other mayo-drenched items too numerous to list here. In fact, I find a new mayo-drenched item every time I go to one....all sitting outside of refrigeration on a shelf.

So, the next time you think about your favorite Japanese food, think about mayonnaise. If you have trouble calling a Western creation Japanese, then pizza isn't American at all. Tempura was originally Portuguese and Katsudon was originally Dutch, so it's not the first time the Japanese have adapted Western food into "Japanese" food.

Evil Nomikai....Evil....

For those of you who are unfamiliar with Japanese culture, the concept of the nomikai will be strange....ok....maybe not that strange when put in simple terms. A nomikai literally means drinking engagement. It's that I was at one last night, probably will be attending a birthday party tonight, and have one tomorrow that may seem like a lot to some people.

In Japan as well as most Asian countries, it is important to show your face at such engagements because you are expected to. If you do not show up, you'll find yourself with a lot fewer friends than you had before. The exceptions are obvious: work.... okay....maybe the exception is obvious...it's pretty mandatory to go.

On a side note, the reason I disappeared for a little while is because of a minor injury to my leg last week while playing basketball. The tendons connecting this one arrogant muscle to the bone are in pain. I spent the first night in so much pain, that I couldn't sleep. I went to the doctor and got some drugs, but they weren't that effective. We think they recommend doses for people in the 5 foot range...I'm 192.7 cm not 170!

Anyway, I'm undergoing rehabili (rehabilitation in shortened Japanese form) which is applying sonogram to the injured areas to soften them up i.e. relax and heal. I hope I get back to running and hooping soon, but for the time being, I'm living in constant pain...

So, I've been drinking

As the title details, I have been drinking.

I had enough gin and tonics on an empty stomach to make my 192 centimeter (6' 4") frame and 92 kg (190 lbs.) body get a little tipsy.  Yes, that's right, tipsy; tipsy to the point where I didn't ride my bike home for fear of being pulled over for drunk driving.  I was reminded of the concept by the sign at the ramen shop that said, "Drunk driving Stop."  Ok, Ok, so only stop was in English, but you get the point.

My friend asked a philosophical question today that I thought I would share with anyone who considers their self a reader of my lowly blog.

"What happens to mail after it has past its re-delivery date?"

The whole story goes back a whole week or so ago when we both opened our bank accounts....at the post office.....the post office is a bank.....long story......  Anyhow, they said that they would deliver the bank book by mail directly to our mailbox if we had our names attached.  Well, our landlord didn't do it....and we don't have label makers handy, so it didn't get done.

So, fast-forward a week later; I got my bank book because I set a time online with the post office to drop off my book and was *gasp* actually home to receive it.  To know how little I'm home, I paid $5 in electricity last month.....  I'm never here..... (another long story)

My friend, and neighbor, told them to stick it in the box, but they require a signature.  The expiration date on the package has past (who knew they expired) and when she asked the guy at the post office where the mail went after the expiration date, he didn't know.

So, I've been wondering in my drunken state whether there is a mailbox heaven where undeliverable letters go.  Say those letters to Santa Claus that never make it to the North Pole because....let's face it.....Santa Claus can't live on water!!!  He's St. Nick not the Messiah...(I'm going to hell for that....)

Also, on the way home, I saw something I almost can't write...even in my drunken state....an older woman (70s) pulling up her diapers after pissing in a grate.....something I wish I never saw.....

To make matters worse....(it has no real relation to anything I've said so far), the blanket I bought kind of smells like dog spit....  I hung it outside to air-out and it came back as stinky as ever....

That's all from drunken Bryan...I hope you don't get turned off by this blog entry and come and visit again....  

Sumo's Death as a Sport: a Dying Canary in a Cave?

Looking at this picture, you may think that the sport of Sumo was dying because no one wants to become this big to fight in 30-second matches over the course a few months of a year.

Well, that would be wrong. Two Russian Sumo wrestlers were recently expelled for marijuana (Read Story). In a country where you can be stuck in a dark box for 5 years for smelling like marijuana, that is quite expectable.

However, the fact that only two Russian wrestlers that happened to be pretty good were expelled is a little fishy. When I saw sumo back in 2006, I told my students all about it during our "Lobby Talk" sessions when we talked about our weekends etc. I told one older gentleman who plainly said, "I don't like sumo wrestling anymore. I don't like how foreigners are taking the sport over."

Speaking to a foreigner like that is pretty shocking in a country where people apologize to you when you make a mistake yourself (as if they were to blame for your own stupidity). But, it is unsurprising to a foreigner who has been here for as long as I have. People who are here long enough get tired of being "gaijin." Gaijin is a shortened form of the word "gaikokujin" or foreigner and is used in negative contexts such as, "that stupid foreigner talks too loudly."

Some people really want to get to know you and talk to you as a guest in their country, but others look at you with a gaze that would kill you if it could. When I sit down in public spaces, people will get up and move somewhere else or even stand so that they don't catch the gaijin cooties. (On a personal hygiene note, I bathe and brush my teeth regularly and put on lots of deodorant and eat lots of mints).

This racial prejudice is extremely dangerous in a country with a birthrate of 1.3 children/family and in danger of having an overburdened healthcare system as the population ages with no one to support it.

Still, gaijin....gaikokujin... only account for less than %3 of the total population and are located mostly in large urban areas such as Tokyo or my home here in Kyoto. Sumo wrestling may not be exciting enough for the younger generation, but I believe those that are turned off by a Mongolian or Hawaiian Yokozuna are the danger to Japan showing the larger problem inhibiting Japan from growing. Racial discrimination is a problem that Japan will need to tackle to cure it from itself and its low birthrate problem.

By the way, not only did the wrestler in the picture win his match, he was also awarded a trophy for largest man-boobs...that was until they compared them to mine.

Moving into Kyoto

Walking up the street toward school, I was committing a cardinal sin in Japan: walking and drinking.  This time, I actually felt a little bad about it though.  For some reason, this neighborhood resting in a nook between a temple and a busy thoroughfare seemed venerable.  As I sipped on my CC Lemon (packed with more than enough Vitamin C than one needs in a day), I took in my surroundings.  Every time I went up this street before, I rode my bike zipping past pedestrians and stopped cars full of goods to deliver to the local restaurants.

Now it's not uncommon in Japan to fail to recognize small shops on the side of the road; they look indistinguishable from residences in some cases.  Honestly, I don't know how some of them stay in business since they are so poorly marked and usually offer similar food products as the next poorly-marked bum a couple doors down.  When talking about perishable food products, this is not the type of place you will find me chowing down on local Kyoto delights.  You'll find me at the other, well-marked restaurant with people visibly going and coming from their doors.

So, as I sipped on my CC Lemon and all of its vitamin C goodness, I gazed down a little side street nestled between a row of shops and a large building (probably a temple) with a large wall around it.  Down the street were two maiko-san (like geisha) gazing back at me as I looked like the dumb American sloppily gulping down one of Japan's fine beverages (and all of its vitamin C goodness).  Slightly embarrassed, I put the drink down by my side as I continued on my way.

I had no clue at the time because this is Kyoto on a holiday (yesterday was a day off for the beginning of Fall...don't be jealous fellow Americans, school is not yet in service).  In fact, I soon passed another gentleman dressed in "traditional" Japanese clothing as he headed toward the temple I mentioned.  Also, this neighborhood is similar to most in Japan with political posters plastered on walls and gates.  As my new friend Hitoshi told me, Kyoto is known to vote Communist in local elections to break up the LDP's monopoly of power in Japan.  Voting Communist is like voting Green in California where Green Party officials actually make it into office.  The posters in this neighborhood struck a cord with me since the slogan appeals to the same peace clause in the Japanese Constitution I've been slaving over this summer.

However, as I returned that way at night.  My guide and new friend Hitoshi told me that this street is one of the last remaining streets where you go and have tea while maiko-san come and visit you.  If you ever saw the movie Memoirs of a Geisha, you know that they bounce from place to place not just entertaining at one teahouse.  It may interest you to know that the 21st century preferred means of transportation is the taxi.  I usually see empty cabs driving up and down that street (I had thought for no reason), but I have yet to see one with a maiko-san in it.  I will try to take a picture and post it if I can.

Tomorrow, I will go to the "Entrance Ceremony" and then meet my future thesis advisor.  Wish me luck.