Badaud Dispatch 8-- Et in Arcadia Wanderlust

One of my (admittedly flippant) reasons to go abroad was that this would be one year I wouldn't be whacked over the head with wanderlust when the fall came. I would already be wandering! The sense of smothered longing would not appear at inconvenient times (5 AM, history class) and make me unable to concentrate! I was wrong, of course. 

Last weekend I went to a ginkgo festival at the foot of Mt Takau. The gingko trees there do not mess around: 

The yellow goes on for miles

There were food stands and musicians and vendors along the yellow avenue, like a very long Smorgasburg. It one one of those brilliantly gilded fall days where your eyes hurt from the intensity of the colors. There were samurai:

Note the guns and the swords

And amazingly synchronized dance troupes with absolutely unflagging energy:

That flag guy was at it for nearly half an hour without a rest

It was strange to be at a festival with no idea what each dance represented, what the songs were about, or really what the occasion was. We bought gingko nuts, only to discover they had not been roasted and tasted exactly the way gingko fruits smell (the streets, unsurprisingly, were entirely gingko fruit free. I think the armies of elderly guys with brooms and buckets that appear to be everywhere were responsible). I felt increasingly ill at ease and restless, standing in a crowd with the mountains so close, and finally ran off in their general direction. 

Follow the river!

Hachioji is tucked up against the foothills, in the inimitably confusing Japanese style that makes a town look completely flat until you suddenly find yourself up against a wall of hill that your bike is probably not up to, or, worse, at the top of a cliff that your brakes are definitely not equipped to descend. On foot the hills creep up more slowly, which in this case was distressing- I wanted to be in the forest, alone, and the hazy woods kept receding or having fences around them. I gave up on the Official Heritage Trail which was crowded and paved and walled, and hurried through the town. How lovely it must be, I thought, to live here in the shadow of the blazingly bright mountains and know where the damn paths are. 

This way is trespassing.

This way too.

Finally I was about to give up and go meet my companions at the station and maybe go for a really long bike ride upon returning to Hiyoshi, when I saw exactly what I was looking for:

A PATH!

So I ran straight up the mountain as fast as I could, and the cars and music faded away at last and the air was sweet and clear. There was a little shrine with a fox god at the top and I bowed most respectfully. I may be a cold and logical atheist, but I was filled with such a sense of gratitude and peaceful delight to be there, dusty and out-of-breath, looking down over the coral-stained town. 

I didn't photograph the shrine because I read somewhere it was disrespectful.

I ran back down and miraculously made the train, and fell asleep at once. I was wearing khaki pants (laundry day) and noticed that they were not even slightly dirty. I think Japan simply hasn't got any dirt. 

School has become a bit stressful lately, as there is a presentation day coming up. I don't know if it is a communication issue, a language issue, or a cultural one, but the way the academic schedule and expectations are laid out is...not what we're used to. It's a tribute to my colleagues that we are all navigating the murkiness of university bureaucracy without too much grief or drama. I think everyone is trying very hard, but it does sometimes feel like a great deal of information is being lost somewhere in a miasma and everyone is confused. It's been two times I've left a frustrating meeting to gallop around the athletic track in my entirely non-athletic boots just to blow off steam. 

But hey! I made a robot! 

I WILL BE GONE SOME TIME!

He is based on Titus Oates if anyone is wondering. And if anyone is wondering why Titus Oates needs to be a robot I could not tell you, but he cracks me up every time. I broke the one above from making him fall over too much; I had to make a replacement. 

Maybe next post I'll write about school and design more. I worked on a movie about a ghostly karate man, thought up a transmedia project for homesick luddites, and am up to my ears in a collapsable, disposable, unfortunately still kinda goofy looking bike helmet. 

And it's really hard to concentrate on any of these when I can see the mountains from the elevator. 

--Isis

Badaud Dispatch 7-- New Gods (And More Old Ones)

I have noticed a definite prevalence of fish in Japanese everything. I bit into what looked exactly like an apple pastry the other day, only to discover it was full of fish. Today I saw that even shoes are fish.

I didn't buy a pair. Then I jumped in the ocean and stepped barefoot on a fish. Serves me right. 

I have settled into a routine, more or less. There is school, slightly more time consuming but still nowhere near Pratt stressful, and relentless adventuring in all directions all the time. By the time I get home to New York I will want to sleep for weeks. I spent one day fully indoors and was immediately restless and grumpy, so I suppose this is just how I am wired. That and my dorm room is small and grey and hasn't got a cat in it.

Tokyo Designers Week was last week, and it was cool. 

Light up cell phone suits

Double hilted safety sword

Holographic fashion frog!

Again, it was distressing to have almost no Japanese. I really wanted to chat with designers, and while everyone tried their best and was patient I just haven't the vocabulary. So I smiled a lot and said 'Sugoi desu ne!' and was handed informational packets with beautiful graphics that I cannot read.* 

I did find someone who spoke perfect English:

She has better hair than I do.

It was only the nonspecific lip movement that made it obvious that she's silicon and wires and breadboards and batteries. It is really unsettling to speak to a robot:

Me: Konnichiwa! O genki desu ka?

Her: (In the squeaky voice of an affected teenager) Konnichiwa. Genki desu. Yoroshiku onagaishimaaaaaasu. 

Me: Um, do you speak English?

Her: Yes of course. How are you? Good day. What's your name? Where are you from? Hehe. 

Me: I'm Isis. I'm from New York. 

Her: (Eyes getting big and slightly misaligned) New York! Cooooool! Hehe. 

Awkward silence

Me: Um. Er. What do you like to do in your spare time? Do you have spare time?

Her: (Vibrating) I like to learn things! It is cool to learn new things. Don't you think?

Me: Oh yes. You bet. (Awkward silence). Um, I'm off. Nice to meet you. 

Her: I am very glad to meet you, Eesees. I'm sure we will meet again. 

Me: (quietly) In my damn nightmares....

There were also some comfortingly robotic looking robots:

They did the electric slide.

The other day in class I was trying to explain why I personally would not like a humanoid robot, even if it did the dishes and the laundry and picked my socks off the floor. It's just too close to a person, and if I'm able to feel embarrassed and tongue tied from just talking to a robot, I don't think I could bring myself to order one to do my menial tasks. I'd feel guilty and want to pay it. However, if the robot in question looked entirely inhuman, not even like a beast, I could be ok with it. An unsympathetic box can collect my socks any day. 

Speaking of beasts, here is a confession: I saw a squirrel and immediately seized my camera to take a picture. It was a normal grey squirrel but I haven't seen one in two months. Fortunately for my dignity it scooted up a tree and I didn't get a picture and I did not join the legions of doofuses who photograph squirrels. But I came really close. 

Today I went to Kamakura, which is a shrine-heavy area a bit past Yokohama. We started by visiting this giant peace goddess who is visible from the train:

See her up there? It must be nice to have a giant peace goddess watching over your town.

She was built in the 50s and has a nice sympathetic look to her. You can enter a hatch in the back and there's a little shrine. 

It's hard to make a giant head without being all looming, but the sculptor managed. 

Then we went to Kamakura proper, which was packed. There was some kind of children's festival, and dozens of unbearably cute kids in tiny kimonos. They were also without exception behaving themselves. I wanted to take pictures of them, but that seemed creepy so I didn't. 

Going to shrines involves a lot of running up stairs:

Grand stairs

Old stairs

Creepy stairs

It was lovely. My nonbeliever's soul is perfectly happy in a Shinto or Buddhist shrine, much more than in a church or synagogue. I appreciate that they are largely outdoors, on hilltops, and very welcoming. It's nice to just go and be somewhere quiet and peaceful for a bit. Even the little prayer gongs have a sweet, soothing ring. And there are bamboo forests! 

The best rustling ever

We visited the giant 12th century Buddha, who is in exceptionally good shape considering his age. 

You could buy little kawaii Buddha charms in the giftshop

And then ran to the beach with the windsurfers and the beautiful bluegrey waves and the still warm water. 

Move over, Atlantic. 

I could go on forever about this slightly enchanted endless summer and the beautiful trains and lovely prayer flags and all the books I am reading and the strange short nights. But there is homework to do and possibly a robot bit acquisition mission, so off I go. 

-I

*I am studying! But I am just not good at languages and it's taking forever and there are SO many Kanji... I hate being bad at stuff. 

Badaud Dispatch 6-- Old Gods

Today I got an assignment to write a sci-fi story about a technological solution to a human want. Aside from being stoked to write fiction or really anything (writing is one of my greatest pleasures, between cycling and sleeping) I think it's an interesting problem. I have always viewed technology with a certain unease, although I use it all the time. I'm very conscious of becoming too far from the physical world, and how easy it is to forget the feel of the sun and water and leaves and sand and real things. 

I went on a field trip to Sony, and it was really impressive. They had super high resolutions screens, full sensory music videos, all kinds of real time interactive stuff. It was glassy and shiny and sleek and cool. And I left feeling a little sad, because I so love the real world and actual, existing things, and it seems to be slipping away gadget by gadget.

They didn't allow photos. So here is a giant saw instead. 

Later, I went to a robot expo, which also didn't allow photos. There were big robots, little robots, service robots, rolling robots, and moonwalking robots. My terrible Japanese was not up to technical chat (or really much of any chat) but I was glad to see what should be out in a world in a year or two. There was one, much like the picture below, which is supposed to be comforting. I picked it up and it weighed and purred more or less like a big cat. It was comforting. I didn't even feel bad and it made me feel better. But also somewhat revolted, because, though it was warm and soft and cute, it was a machine. 

Chummy, chummy plush

There were also these little penguin-like things being tested by very serious men in suits. 

These people are having too much fun.

It felt weird to be one of a handful of women, and the only Western one. I'm becoming used to being stared at (politely, surreptitiously) but it was particularly marked there. 

On Saturday I watched the most slow paced, introspective fireworks display I have ever seen. There were acts. And intermissions. It was lovely. Thousands of people stood watching on the beach off Enoshima saying 'Sugoi!' [awesome]. It was so different from the ones at home, as unflashy as a fireworks display can be. Then I ran into the water and ran right out again because it was full of dead minnows. 

SUGOIIIII! (Video by Dayna)

And on Sunday I joined the Keio Birdwatching Club on an expedition to the 'Gyotoku Birdwatching Place', but we somehow wound up helping the nature center people harvest rice instead. I think, though I could be wrong, that we wandered into the wrong meeting and were too polite to leave and just went along with it. 

Some of my lovely fellow birdwatchers.

They gave us work clothes, which included hand towels and tiny boots. I managed to jam my feet in, but the pants were hopelessly short. I had to assure the impossibly sweet park lady that I really didn't mind getting my jeans dirty. Really! Truly! I think they may be used to somewhat more fastidious city people than myself. 

That fellow showing me how to bundle rice stalks used to design logos for Nikon. Who knew?

It was so lovely to spend a morning outside, doing simple manual labor with the crows wheeling by and the sweet smell of the cut stalks and the satisfying sense of accomplishing something tangible. It's hard to write about this without sounding terribly corny, but I was genuinely reminded that all the digital excitement and robots and screens are only a thin layer over what is real, which is the land.

Drying on a bamboo rack

Then I went to an autumn festival in Kawagoe, which is a district full of traditional buildings and shrines. There were floats and drummers and vast, happy, lantern-lit crowds. It reminded me a bit of the Philadelphia Mummers, except that there were no knee deep piles of trash, vomit and drunk guys. In fact, the few times I saw an empty patch of street there was not so much as a cigarette butt. 

Here comes a float!

There were stands with amazing street food, stationary stages with traditional performers, and a pervasive, though relatively quiet, sound of flutes and drums. It wasn't raucous in the American sense, because while the mood was bright and celebratory there was a solemnity about it too. Even the children, in their festival yukata had on serious smiles. 

I don't know who this dancer was representing, but he had moves. 

It was thrilling to run through the crowded streets, to watch the streams of brightly dressed people sweep back and forth. It was intensely dreamlike, and it seems appropriate that almost none of my photos came out. 

Drummers

Then my (heavily international) group read each other children's stories on the train (first traditional Japanese ones, then Struwwelpeter and Max and Moritz) and that only added to the sense of having come unstuck in time and place. Upon finally stumbling back into the dorm I fell asleep at once and had strange, colorful dreams. 

There were real candles in the lanterns.

It's a good thing for me that I thrive on strangeness and novelty. There is plenty of that here. 

-Isis

Badaud Dispatch 5-- Gakusei desu, too.

Housekeeping stuff first-- I started an Instagram because thats what the cool kids have, apparently. I'll try to put up pictures every day. And now I know why everyone's trip photos always look better than mine-- they've applied the insta flattering insta filters of instagram, which makes everything look wistful and Williamsburg, and now mine do too. I draw the line at Twitter, however. I'm way to much of a verbose bastard for that, and I love stretching and bending and hammering my own beloved language to within an inch of its life, despite the various wails of various professors.* 

Also, who are all my French readers? Do I know anyone in France? Bienvenue, in any case. 

It occurred to me that I haven't mentioned school at ALL-- which, as it is my stated purpose for being here, doesn't look too good. I have approximately one class per day, though sometimes two or three. My schedule is non-repetitve and vague. So are the professors. I think the approach to design here is pretty philosophical and open-ended, as opposed to the relentless hands-on regimen at home. We're encouraged to wander and explore and absorb (you couldn't pay me to NOT do that) and the assignments are, so far, exceptionally manageable. The professors are also really sociable-- they keep throwing us sake-soaked parties and are happy to chat with us about everything from drones to European metal clubs. I was expecting the sensei-student gulf to be insurmountable, but it's hard to be intimidated when the sensei is wearing a froofy cosplay suit that is somewhere between a maid, a cat and a penguin.

So I have plenty of free time which I spend a-badaud-ing, which is far more interesting to write about than Innovations In Digital Media or Creative Conception for Transmedia (I might be designing a folding electric personal mobility whozzy though, so that's exciting).

I went to the Edo-Tokyo museum and was blown away at the detail of the exhibits. According to the seriously amazing English language guide, each figurine cost ¥20,00-50,000 (which is around $200-500).

The fishermen had tiny fish.

She said that after the financial collapse the dioramas have less people. Like everything here, the exhibits were beautifully, graciously, carefully laid out. I love museums anyway, and what was supposed to be a two hour excursion consumed an entire happy day. 

The first department store! They sent customers home with branded umbrellas for free advertising. 

There was an extensive section on the Tokyo air raids in WWII, and as the only American in the tour I wanted to crawl under a historical table. I've noticed that history is almost never mentioned here, and I wondered if perhaps no one wants to mention history to me. The guide did seem a lot more comfortable with Tokugawa. I suppose things move quickly and it's a new time and a new generation, but our mutually shameful past is still there and always will be. 

There was a truly righteous escalator:

That elegant Tokyo orange

And a new river to walk by and a boat parking area:

It's hard to see, but the little houses lining the artificial bank are ramen shops

Then there was a typhoon, so we stayed in and watched Rashomon. It was so loud I had to film it:

Whoosh!

There's another one coming this weekend, apparently (it's weird to hear how casually everyone talks about it- 'Oh yeah, there's another typhoon coming. Want to get sushi?') and I'm making a pilgrimage to Tokyo's only English language used bookstore tomorrow because there's only so long I can stare at a screen on a rained in day. 

This morning I went to Yokohama because why not, and there was something comfortingly familiar about the indolent waterfront. It wasn't just the grand Western architecture or British-y rose gardens, I think it was sense of openness and possibilities that I always feel in harbors. 

Plus, awesome pointy suspension bridges.

There were dragon boats! And few tourists. And all kinds of oddly placed parks on piers and elevations that I will revisit on a cooler day.

DRAGON BOAT!

There is a dreamlike sense I get when I walk out in sandals in October and the sun is hot but the light is autumnal and everything is very like New York, but not quite. Sometimes it's only the constant soft ache of missing people that reminds me how far I am from home, and sometimes it's everything. 

Strange deserted sculpture garden

And sometimes it's just beautiful:

Odaiba. Photo by Dayna (thanks Dayna!)

--Isis

*162 characters, point PROVEN. 

Badaud Dispatch 4---Fool's Luck

I just need to say that I rode from Shinjuku to Hiyoshi the other day on my wonderful new mamachari (tanker) bike with limited maps and exceptionally limited sense of direction AND MADE IT. On time for a meeting. And got sushi on the way. I don't often feel like a boss, but given Japan's lack of street names, my lack of Japanese, and clouds obscuring the sun's position, I FEEL LIKE A BOSS.

This is my mamachari. Isn't she perfect?

Indestructible, suckaaaaas

I bought it on Sunday and rode it to a music festival (more on that in a minute) and, not wanting to ride 20 km in the dark by myself with no maps, I left it behind to pick up when I had time. I was going to lock it to a pole in front of the police station, but was informed by helpful expatriates that it would get impounded at once. I considered leaving it in a (beautifully designed) designated bike trough, but apparently there is an army of semi retired men who lurk in the shrubbery and impound any bike left for over 24 hours. So, again following the Helpful Expatriates' advice, I took it to the closest approximation of a dark alley that Tokyo can produce and locked it to a downspout behind a vending machine (upon day lit inspection the downspout turned out to be a VINE). 

And no one stole it. 

And today I spent several happy hours putzing around the canals and narrow streets and talking to the crows and making friends with local cats. People gave me weird looks-- I think aimless roving is not really a thing here, and neither are dazed westerners on mamacharis. I somehow only got lost a couple of times. I may complain about Tokyo's lack of magic, but I've had really astonishing luck with directions. Maybe what magic there is only works for navigation. 

How I love the canals

So. Music festival. One of our professors puts on MoshiMoshi Nippon Festival with the stated purpose of introducing Japanese pop culture to the rest of the world. So it was music, fashion and food, although the latter was crepes and fried chicken so I guess that didn't quite work out. 

There were robots. Really wrecked robots.

Now, disclaimer, I neither seek out nor particularly like pop and techno, so take the following lightly. 

This guy did not take it lightly

They had girl bands alternating with fashion shows. Girl bands are extremely catchy, well choreographed, and, to my ears somewhat monotonous. Apparently they are all in their early teens and have well crafted public personas. 

The fashion show models were of varying body types and seemed to be having a great time.

Even the guys

The fashion itself was brightly colored and pleasantly goofy. 

Later, when the headliner finally made an appearance, I did find myself dancing (and thinking 'If you told me a year ago I'd be voluntarily dancing all kawaii-like at a J-pop show on a Sunday afternoon , I would have laughed in your face). Her name is Kyary Pamyu Pamyu and here is a video. 

Yeah.

Apparently she is Japan's Lady Gaga. She is extremely popular. 

I think if I'm gonna stay grounded in this utterly baffling country I need to spend as much time as I can outside, by the rivers and canals and mountains and trees and real things.  There are some things I really miss about my dear, chaotic, grubby, open-hearted city. 

I'll just keep trusting in my own good luck and keeping more or less parallel with the trains. Its been working well so far.

AND! The other day I met a lady on the train (she seemed concerned about a bunch of lost foreigners going to the beach on a fairly chilly day) and she managed to hook me up with a volunteer run language center that I signed up for this morning and it's amazing. Lovely retirees sit down with you and gently correct your grammar and teach you new words. So yes, good luck is definitely related to trains. 

-Isis

Badaud Dispatch 3-- It's A Cultural Thing

Disclaimer 1-- due to a water catastrophe I had to get a new laptop. It has a Japanese keyboard. The apostrophe is very awkwardly located. Therefore there will be few contractions and possessives. I wonder what this will do to my style? 

Disclaimer 2-- I claim to be a badaud, gaping my way through Japan-- but my colleague here has his gaping game down much tighter than me! 

A night out in Shibuya

It is really hard to write about the cultural differences here. I have not been in the country long, and I'm very much in a bubble of academia and I have so many observations and opinions on everything but don't want to be disrespectful. I've heard long term expats griping and moaning about the travails of living in Japan and it bugs me. So I'm going to try my damnedest to be somewhat objective and sensitive, though gods know that's not my default setting (ok, one subjective insensitive statement: JAPANESE LANGUAGE KEYBOARDS ARE THE WORST!) 

Yesterday a chum and I went to a swap meet at a velodrome, and shut it down Trexlertown because Keiokaku track has a water feature. 

Wa.

It also had the kind of swap meet that would make my vintage nerd friends lose it in every possible direction. There was Campy, there was Dura Ace, there were ancient, perfectly preserved tubulars being vended by ancient, perfectly preserved guys. There were wonderful 70s manga about Bike Cowboys-- a closer look revealed that they were in fact about two boys who rope cows off lovingly drawn lugged tourers. It was really crowded. The old head Japanese bike scene may not be huge, but it is passionate.

 

My people!

We met a very nice British dude with a righteous foldie (you can't quite tell, but the handlebars swivel in and are height adjustable).

Imagine the squeaking...

He also had one of these excellent chainrings that I've never seen in the wild:

See the hand? 

Inside the giant, immaculate building adjoining the velodrome were rows and rows of betting keirin enthusiasts:

There wasn't even a race that day.

They were all elderly men, silently chain-smoking. I was reminded of the British races from novels, with the toothless bookies named Nigel. 

Also, well dressed. Betting is legal and respectable.

There were screens everywhere (apparently there is a race somewhere in Japan just about every day) and packs of anxious gentlemen surrounding each one. Anxious, elderly, smoking, drunk gentlemen. It was surreal. 

'Blendy' coffee, ice cream and beer.

There is something surreal about being here in general, whether its the 85 degree days with sunsets at 5.30, or the oversized crows or the incredibly well synchronized high school athletic team that sings past my window at six or the complete lack of trash AND trashcans.  

I think a lot of the things I like best about Japan are entirely reliant on people following the rules. I was gaping my way through the subways with their wonderfully well organized walkway graphics and sliding barriers and I pictured a horde of screaming New Yorkers destroying everything in about three minutes. Apparently the penalties for things like jaywalking and littering here are draconian, but there are never any cops around so it must be largely self-policing. When I accidentally break the rules (dozens of times a day I imagine) I am made aware of my transgression with nervous smiles and chilly bows. I have particular trouble remembering which side of the sidewalk to walk on, not just because it's different from home but because I am accustomed to barreling down the middle all oblivious because I'm an A-MER-ican, dammit. 

I suppose it's right to do my best, to accept that I won't ever blend in and just try to experience as much as I can as an outsider. I'm going to go hiking this weekend and trees and lakes and birds are universal and I'm looking forward to that very much. 

The above is not to say that people haven't been friendly-- everyone I have spoken to, from every country, has been exceptionally patient and kind. But there is pervasive strain in the air that I can't quite put my finger on. I may never. 

And then I am walking down the lane and come upon a view, like this glowing building, and it is amazing. 

Golden hour

Oh, and there is school too. But that's another post. Anyone know if you can reprogram an apostrophe  key to go back where it belongs?

-Isis