And another and another

J191 Tuesday October 30th
This week was to be a 4-day week. My company saw fit to give us Saturday off, a ludicrous luxury. I'm not quite sure what I'll do with my long weekend, but it will be wonderful, regardless. Today was somewhat busy with 4 classes, more than my normal Tuesday load, but not terminally hectic. I wrote a little, updating my blog, but there's lots more where that came from [EDITOR'S NOTE: Hahaha, yeah. Sorry about that. The G.R.E ate up all of my free time]

J192 Wednesday October 31st
Happy Halloween!

I had been planning on going for a run, but I woke up with an aching ankle. I did my best to stretch it out, but it wasn't wanting to cooperate.

A normal Wednesday load, which meant a 4-hour block at the end of the day. Killer. During my break in the afternoon, though, I paid my bills. I also put in an hour of G.R.E. study at the end of the day.


J193 Thursday November 1st
A lighter day than the previous two, thank goodness. I can't wait for the weekend; 3 days will feel like an eternity. I've been mulling going to Tokyo on Sunday for fun, but nothing solid has formed in my head. M-sensei and I are kicking around the idea of beach walking on Monday.

I ran out of rice the night before, but I didn't have the chance to pick any up before the end of work. I tend to get out of my job around 9:30, and Ito Yokado and Sakura City close at 9. Luckily, there is a great food shop called...uh...Food Shop...on my way home from work. I tend to duck in once or twice a week to pick up groceries, to supplement big food hauls from the weekends.

This evening I was lucky; a huge 5kg bag of rice for a surprisingly low price of 2500 yen. I lugged it to the checkout counter and then to my bike. Enjoying a home-made dinner of veggies and my new rice, I put in another half-hour of G.R.E. study.

J194 Friday November 2nd
I talked with lots of people this morning, including E.J. for the first time in a few weeks. He's got finals looming as the semester comes to a close.

Work was a one-two punch of two three-hour blocks of classes, but I survived well enough. I stayed a little late to help close up, chatting with a few students as well as the staff. On my walk back I ducked into Joycom again to put a few hundred yen more into D&D. I didn't have much chance to experiment with the game when K and I played it the week before. I wondered, given the length of the game as well as the ability to input one's name (more than the three-character initials most arcade cabinets allow) if the game had a character-save feature. Alas, my hopes were dashed by the harsh reality of the situation. Still, that did give me a good idea for a future arcade game.

Many Japanese arcade games have character save features. More accurately, they have profile saves. The newer games have slots where you can insert a magnetic-strip card that holds your unique information. Your game record, your nickname and initials, even stuff like high scores, is stored on the card. You can go to any arcade in Japan that has the machine you play and insert your card, and your profile pops up. It's terribly convenient.

Upon arriving home I found that an old high school friend of mine was planning to come to Tokyo. Josh Weeks was his name, a classmate of mine from many a year ago. He and a friend were coming to Japan during the next week. I offered to show him around and provided my cell number and email.

I also played lots of Halo 3. The day before, the free month of Gold-level XBox Live membership that came with my hardware had run out. I found, to my dismay, that Halo 3's multiplayer requires a Gold-level membership to play. I found solace in playing a few campaign levels, but felt a little stung. I don't regret my purchase; Halo 3 continues to be a shining beacon of gameplay and fun, but this development helped me decide to buy the Orange Box, rather than, say, another few months of XBL Gold.

J195 Saturday November 3rd
A wonderful, lazy day. I woke up late, a rarity, and talked with friends for a few hours. I ment to go to Uchihara, where dwells an actual mall, but I was waylaid by slack. I did a load of much-needed laundry whilst browsing the internets. I had the feeling of forgetting something all day, but I couldn't put my finger on it. I had lunch at Kumamoto.

That evening was Claire's going-away party. I took with me my only cigar, a Cuban roll of fine tobacco, to smoke in honor of Claire's farewell. I'd enjoyed my cigarillos, purchased alongside the cigar, earlier in the year, but I didn't make a habit of them. I had been saving it for a special occasion, and I figured the departure of one of my friends from Japan was certainly deserving of a little combustion.

Hiro, primary owner, operator, bartender, and impresario of G-Bros, assisted me in the proper preparation and smoking of my cigar. It was savory and dark, a flavor far removed from the thinner cigarillos. They were a more sharp, sour tasting breed. This was more mellow and rich, though not without its own heavy bite. I don't know how I managed to do it, but the cigar developed a distinct angle as I smoked it, one edge of the tobacco being burned more rapidly than the other.

Many, many drinks were had and stories told. I held an impromptu edition of Toast Club, scribing the relevant data (attendees, toasts, etc.) in my Moleskine. I will carry them back to America, when the time comes, to record them faithfully in the master book.

The party was long and bittersweet. Claire is a wonderful person, and I really enjoyed her company. In the end I said my own private goodbye outside the heat and noise of G-Bros, under the cool, clear night sky. I biked home, smelling of cigar smoke, a little sad and rather tipsy.

J196 Sunday November 4th
I almost decided to not go to Tokyo today. I got up a lot later than I'd planned, and I felt a little down from the whole 'Claire is leaving soon' thing. Still, I called Brain up, and he convinced me to come on down. I phoned up another friend, Tiffany, a teacher for my company who works in Yokohama, a big satellite town of Tokyo. She helped me find a place to stay the night; the Yokohama International Center Hotel.

I made a reservation, checked up on the train times, and dashed to the station to catch the next Super Hitachi. During the hour and a half train ride down to Tokyo, I spied two things of interest. One was a lone parachutist, falling slowly like a big polyurethane dandelion. She/he was drifting across a big expanse of nothing, a field that lay between the ocean and mountains into which two Hitachis could have fit. They weren't very high up, maybe half a kilometer at most, but their view must have been spectacular.

The other thing I saw was a parade. Or a procession. A portable shrine was being carried along a road that lay near the tracks. A dozen men and boys were giving it their best, hefting the intricate lattice of pine and oak lacquer. In my mind's eye I could see the kami enshrined within the man-sized box, easily weighing in at half a ton, bouncing along jovially, joining in the celebration in a manner that fitted its station. Boisterous laughter or serene amusement? It didn't matter; the people were having fun, and that warmed the heart, no matter what one's metaphysical disposition may be.

Brain and I met up at Ueno, where he accompanied me to Kawasaki (between Yokohama and Tokyo, where the International Center was) to help me check in. It was a bit of a detour, an hour one way, but catching up with Brain is a long-term activity, so we were entertained. The International Center itself was a rather impressive building, a modest complex of buildings surrounded by parks and green space, set a 10-minute walk away from the station. Brain and I walked through a bustling marketplace, a bazaar if I ever saw one, that was packed with people. Cyclists weaved their way through the throng of people, deftly avoiding injury to both personage and parcels.

The International Center had a hotel built in to its overall layout. The room was Western-style, with a bed rather than a futon. The room, and the 50 or so siblings it had, were able to be occupied much like an apartment; many gaijin or transient Japanese use rooms like these to have a nice place to stay for longish periods of time.

After checking in, Brain and I made our way to Akihabara. We walked up and down the strip, looking through shop after shop. I once again priced micro laptops, my interest in a miniaturized portable computing solution still present. Brain informed me of the EEE-PC, a staggeringly cheap (and small) micro that is built off of a custom Linux environment.

He also told me about the new Gundam series, Gundam 00. I'd heard that a new series had come out, but I hadn't seen anything about the plot or characters. His summary sold me, and I made a note to myself to download the translated episodes once I got back home.

After Akiba, and a stop by Star Kebab, the best Turkish kebab joint in Japan, as far as I'm concerned, Brain and I headed to Shibuya. We got there around 7PM, but most of the shops were starting to close. We were trying to get into a multi-store skyscraper, but the guards had it in their minds that it was closed, despite the signs in plain Japanese stating the stores inside were open until 9PM, every day. We found an entrance where the guards were not so strict, and ascended an elevator to an HMV media store. The rest of the evening was spent browsing movies and music.

Around 9 or so Brain and I decided to call it a night. We went our separate ways, he to his apartment and I to my hotel room. The train ride wasn't as long as I remembered, and I walked through the now-empty bazaar with purpose, eager to get to my rented bed. The day had been long, and I was tired. Alley cats and nocturnal motorists crossed my path a few times, along with some late-night pedestrians. Hitachi quiets down considerably at night, but Tokyo and its suburbs are almost never totally quiet.

I always wonder what they do, these night-dwellers. Why does the woman in front of me carry bags of groceries, despite every shop I pass being closed? To where does the young couple putt on their moped? The moon looks down on us all, she alone knowing our destinations.

J197 Monday November 5th
Oh, one thing I forgot to mention. The 40th Annual Bi-Yearly Tokyo Motor Show has been going on, and today was one of the last few weeks it was going to be open. It had been opened to the public a few weeks prior, and a steady stream of people, car-otaku and families alike, had been coming to see the next year's auto-mechanical wonders.

I met Matt and Dan at Ueno station early in the morning, and we all proceeded to the site of the TMS. Along with my tickets, each a reasonable 2000 yen or so, I purchased an eco-friendly canvas bag, a sturdy contraption that is emblazoned with the show's logo. Into it went every promotional book I received that day.

And what a great number I received! Every major, minor, and sub-minor automobile manufacturer had a booth there. Motorcycles, cars, trucks, and bizarre mixes between the three were everywhere. Concept cars ranged from the marginally advanced to the downright futuristic. There was one series, by Nissan perhaps, that was a modular series of vehicles. A person-sized vehicle that could couple with a larger shell, turning two of the devices into a 2-person car, as well as a boat platform.

Extreme flexibility and space conservation was another order of the day. Several vehicles crammed a full (American) sized car's worth of stuff into things barely larger than a Mini-Coop. One concept, a van, was right up my alley. A 2-seater whilst driving, the back section pulls out a good two meters, expanding the car's interior while exposing the now-extended "pod"'s guts. The pod can be ordered to fit a large amount of gear, ranging from refrigeration units for produce storage to diving gear. The mockup's interior featured a rather neat looking computer terminal, too.

There was so much more. I could write a book on just this one day alone, but for the sake of brevity, let me tell you the basics. Japan is a technofetishist's wet dream. This was a convention about new cars. The new cars were jaw-dropping.

Alas, I have no pictures what so ever! My camera, faithful companion all these months in the land of the rising sun, decided to die on me in the second motorcycle booth. A scant dozen images, and the poor guy just gave out. I swapped batteries, swapped memory cards, I shook and prayed and cursed, but nothing would coax my camera back to life. It refuses to turn on or extend its lens assembly; whenever I try to do so, I hear a small servo-mechanical whine and then nothing. I think a gear or something similar has gotten discombobulated, resulting in mechanical trouble.

Luckily, Matt is an amateur photographer. His camera blazed throughout the conference, and between he and Dan, a ton of digital pictures were taken.

The evening wore on, and despite a delicious lunch bought from a Pakistani vendor, we were tired, hungry, and desirous of home. And, yet, there was one last item on the agenda; our farewell to Claire. The young Scotswoman was leaving for her homeland the next day, and though we'd all said our good-byes, we had planned on having dinner with her that night.

Alas, the demons of time and space were to rob us of our final rendezvous. We had miscalculated travel times and the final train home, and simply put we could not both see Claire off and get back home that night. Over much hemming and hawing, Dan and I decided to head back home, while Matt stayed behind to visit Claire and see her off in the morning. Dan and I both had work the next day, while Matt was still unemployed.

We said our good-byes, Dan and I, to Claire via cell phone. Perhaps it was better that way.

The Fresh Hitachi, the last train from Ueno to our homes, ferried us northward through the dark fields of the Kanto plain. Under the clear skies, so full of stars, our train sped, taking us back to the quiet of sleepy Ibaraki prefecture. We both disembarked at Hitachi, but Dan, having parked his van at the station, had a few minutes more to go; he lives in Ogitsu, a train stop north.

I biked back home past darkened shops and cozy, light-oozing homes. My apartment was waiting for me, as I'd left it two days prior. Remembering now the sleep I enjoyed that night makes me tired, and so I close this entry to sleep, again. Perchance to dream :)