Weird & Wonderful Japanese World Records

okay... I thought we'd take a look today at some of the weirder world records currently being held by Japan that do not involve sex. Sorry. Maybe in another blog. 

• The world's largest model of a human organ: Not a musical instrument, but the lungs. This educational model stands an impressive 16'-5" (5.02 meters) tall and 18'-11" (5.78 meters) wide. It was the brainchild of Pfizer Japan Inc. - the pharmaceutical giant manufacturer and is located at Ario Sapporo, Sapporo, Hokkaido in Japan, first revealed back on October 2, 2010. It was built depicting a healthy lung on the left (facing) and a smoker's lung on the other to demonstrate the hazards of smoking. It is made of PVC, also known as polyvinyl chloride. I believe it is set up to show the effectiveness of the healthy lung and the unhealthy lung in its use of oxygen and blood. As we all know lungs transport oxygen from the air we breathe in to our bloodstream, and upon exhaling, the lungs have converted carbon dioxide from the bloodstream back out into the air. At least I hope I got that right!

• Most consecutive #1 singles: No, not my dating life prior to Japan, but rather some strange record involving a musical group called the KinKi Kids who in June of 2011 reached their 31st consecutive single to hit #1. Now this is on the Japanese music chart, and not on Billboard... still, it's a somewhat impressive achievement considering their first single to hit #1 occurred back in July of 1997, 14 years ago. Ommigawd... they are the KKK! The KinKi Kids are a duo (the two lads in the photo on the right): Domoto Koichi and Domoto Tsuyoshi (surname first). While they have the same surname, they are not related. However... they are both from Japan's Kinki/Kansai region, which explains their name if not the fact that it sounds kinky.

• Most full-contact punch strikes in one minute: A strange record, yet one that denotes the speed and accuracy of female boxer Miyao Ayaka (surname first) who was born on August 29, 1983 in Nagano, Japan. Standing a mere 5'-0" (1.53 meters) tall, the cherry bomb dynamo made 556 punches in 60 seconds. Holy crap that's fast! That's 9.267 punched every second. She actually did this record on a television show called  100 Beautiful Women Who Have Guinness World Records, and did so by beating out three other international competitors. Obviously for the human eye to see all of those punches is impossible, but her record was verified via slow-motion camera. Currently ranked 6th in Japan and 23 in the world, this beautiful bomber holds and 11 W (1KO), 5L (2KO) and 1 Draw record. That's her on the left beating the crap out of an opponent.  

• Largest gathering of dogs in attired costume: Who knew there was even a record for something like this? Apparently Guinness World Records did. On May 14, 2011, 603 poor dogs were dressed up in clothing and gathered with their proud owners at the Roppongi Hills Arena in Minato-ku, Tokyo, Japan. Most of the dogs in attendance were of the smaller variety--like miniature Daschunds and Toy Poodles. No kidding! Do not dress up your big dog! I once attempted to put a Toronto Maple Leafs NHL hockey sweater on one of my then three Rottweilers, Blackjack... he attempted to rip my face off (hence the mask I wear as my photo at the top of this blog!). Who knew he wasn't a Leafs fan, and preferred their arch-rival Montreal Canadiens (who suck!)? The event wasn't only about people torturing their pets--this event included a charity auction to raise money for pets displaced by the March 11, 2011 9.0 Magnitude earthquake and massive tsunami. The Japanese world record completely eclipsed the old record set a year earlier in the USA when only 208 dogs were abused in this silly excuse for a world record.  

•  Steepest rollercoaster made from steel: This record is just plain sick. The Takabisha rollercoaster at Fujikyu Highland Amusement Park in Fujiyoshida-shi (Fujiyoshida City) in Yamanashi-ken (Yamanashi Prefecture), Japan. Featuring a stomach dropping decline of 121 degree over 11'-2" (3.4 meters), it first began making people sick on July 8, 2011 before they even rode it. It has an over-vertical section of 121 degrees, which is just one of seven big drops in the 2-minute 40-second barf-inducing ride of your life. If you look closely, you can see Mt. Fuji in the background covered in vomit.

• Most Twitter tweets per second: This record was achieved during the historic 2011 Women's World Cup of soccer when Japan defeated the United States of America in the Finals via a penalty shootout. This was one of the best soccer matches I had ever seen and Japan came through with a plucky victory that not only surprised your humble author but probably most of the world, too. Twitter, also must have been surprised, as the tweets were going nuts during and after the match scoring a landslide 7,196 tweets per second (TPS) on July 27, 2011.  Japan and the USA were deadlocked at 2-2 before Japan won it 3-1 on penalty kicks.U.S. President Barack Obama also is reported to have tweeted on the match. And, to prove the soccer is indeed the world's most popular sport, it also holds down the number two mark in tweets per second on Twitter at 7,166 during a match between Brazil and Paraguay during a Copa America quarter final. The previous high was 6,939 TPS that occurred on New Year's Eve December 31, 2010 in Japan (of course). As a point of reference, the March 11, 2011 earthquake that hit the northeast coast of Japan garnered 5,530 TPS, the 2011 Superbowl football game got 4,064 TPS, and the idyllic wedding between Kate Middleton and Prince William peaked at 3,996 TPS.

• Heaviest largemouth bass: This one kicks bass. On July 2, 2009, Kurita Manabu (surname first) hooked a 22-pound 4-ounce female largemouth bass from Japan's largest lake, Lake Biwa. What's astounding is that this record actually ties what the sportsfishing world calls its 'Holy Grail' of records that was originally set 77 year's ago by George Perry of Georgia, USA when he pulled his fish from Georgia's Montgomery Lake on June 2, 1932. Kurita—who is from Aichi, Japan actually broke the record, as his initial weighing of the fish came in at 22 lb 5 oz. However, according to rules and regulations stipulated by the International Game Fish Association’s (IGFA), a record must be broken by a minimum of two ounces. But don't cry for Kurita, a proper measurement of the behemouth with certified scaled shows the bass at 22 lb-4 oz (10.12 kilograms) with a length of 27.2 inches and a girth of 26.7 inches. What is interesting to not, is that most members of the IGFA were surprised that Japan had fish anywhere like that, as the USA is considered the kingdom of the bass. Okay, I was surprised too. Bass in Japan? Lake Biwa is an old reservoir located northeast of Kyoto. For those of you who are interested, Kurita used a Deps Sidewinder rod and a Shimano Antares DC7LV reel loaded with 25 lb Toray line when he pitched his bait, a live bluegill, next to a bridge piling. It was Kurita’s first cast to the piling where he had seen a big bass swimming. He only twitched the bait twice the bait was taken. After a short, three minute fight he had the fish in the boat.Oh... and the record was only officially recognized six months after landing the fish. But it gets better. Because Americans all over America (IE the World) could not believe that their Holy Grail record could be beaten in Japan (we kicked their ass back in double-ya double ya two) they said that Kurita must have cheated somehow. So... even after getting all of theproper documentation from the IGFA’s sister association, the Japan Game Fish Association (JGFA), they had Kurita take a polygraph (lie detector) test. But apparently because fishermen are known liars, the IGFA reserves the right to employ polygraph analyses to any record application, and this is explicitly stated in the affidavit section of the world record application form. Kurita was examined on December 15, 2009 and after passing with flying colours, he was officially acknowledged as equaling the record for fishing the largest largemouth bass on January 8, 2010. Should you wish to check out some more of the IGFA All-Tackle records, click HERE. As an aside, bass are not native to Japan - they are stocked. Japan's fisheries officials call it an invasive species that have adapted well to Japan's cool, deep lakes.

•  Longest timed flight of paper airplane: Who knew there were people involved in competitive paper airplane flying? Apparently having a flight of 20-seconds is considered exceptional, 25-seconds or better is world-class. Uh-huh. Japan's Toda Takuo (surname first) has come close to reaching the 30-second mark... setting the world record at an astounding 27.9 seconds. Of course, this paper plane had tape on it. His other record for an all-paper, non-tape plane was done flying a 10-centimeter long plane that flew for 26.1 seconds. "I felt a lot of pressure," he notes after his paper airplane fly-off at a Japan Airlines hangar near Tokyo's Haneda Airport. "Everything is a factor – the moisture in the air, the temperature, the crowd." The crowd? Okay. Toda, an engineer, is the head of the Japan Origami Airplane Association and is virtually unmatched in his ability to fold paper aircraft. In keeping with traditional rules of the ancient Japanese art of origami, he uses only one sheet of paper, which he does not cut or paste. Apparently tape is allowed by Guinness World Records, but he chose not to use tape to better follow the rules of origami (the Japanese art of paper folding). His paper-only record was 'captured' on the video seen HERE. It also shows some terrible camera work - perhaps also a world record for worst camera work ever. Along with breaking the 30-second barrier, Toda said his next goal is to launch a paper airplane from space. With funding from Japan's space agency, JAXA, Toda and a team of scientists have designed a plane they believe can withstand the intense heat of re-entry. One of Toda's designs was scheduled to be released from the International Space Station, but that plan fell through in part because of problems with devising a means of tracking the planes as they fell back to Earth. Toda and his colleagues are currently trying to interest Chinese or Russian space officials in reviving the idea.

Files compiled by Andrew Joseph

Dr. Feelgood Redux

Reprinted by popular demand--because I accidentally posted a story for this morning (my time) yesterday evening--is my first experience at a Japanese hospital.

Cue ominous music.

Duhn-duhn-duhnnnnn.

It's not for the weak of heart or stomach.

Originally written for your perusal back in December of 2009 when this blog was getting about 400 hits a month... I repeat it again today considering I get well over that in a single day now... so some of you may have missed it the first time. Count yourselves lucky.

Regardless... for all of your new readers who accidentally stumble across this blog searching for data and photos on Miss Universe or information on soccer, thanks for sticking around... it makes me feel good.

Enjoy my blast from the past HERE.

Somewhere trying to tie up my hospital gown
(but secretly enjoying showing off my butt),
Andrew Joseph
Enjoy some Motley Crue while you are at it: DRUGS

Keep Your Hands To Yourself

Originally entitled: Owed To A Romance.

"It tis an ancient Mariner,

And he stoppeth one of three.

'By thy long grey beard and glittering eye,

Now wherefore stopp'st thou me?

The bridegroom's doors are opened wide,

And I am next of kin;

The guests are met, the feast is set: 

Mayst hear the merry din..."

It had to be seen to be believed. But even that didn't help. I'd hoped my photographs would show things to be quite logical, and that I had simply misconstrued what I had seen due to long nights of writing and Nintendo. But, that proved to be a false hope, as talking to other people only confirmed my fears.

Japanese weddings are really very bizarre.

Even though I had been here in Ohtawara-shi, Tochigi-ken, Japan for 22 months, I had never had the opportunity to see a Japanese wedding up close and personal before. You could call it luck.

I don't really like weddings all that much - all that crying (usually from the bride's side of the family who can't believe that their little girl is going to marry that sleazy-looking misanthrope), and the speeches (from people the bride and groom are not sure if they know, but each has assumed the other has invited), and the money (because all Japanese people assume that AETs (assistant English Teachers) on the JET (Japan Exchange & Teaching) Programme are rich (even though we do make more money than the average Japanese teacher with 20 years experience).

The actual wedding ceremony itself is seen by about 10 people - usually the only people the bride and groom actually know. But after that short ceremony done in traditional Japanese garb, the true family circus begins. Fanfare and speeches and beer, oh my!

As soon as the three- to four-hundred guests  are seated, and the gaijin (foreigner) entourage are seated next to each other so as to not scare the other guests, the lights are dimmed, the video camera is turned on, and a bright light is shone into the eyes of the person with the lowest tolerance for light (me). Then a spotlight drops down from the ceiling at the back of the hall and accidentally hits the fire alarm - but no one moves except the hall's employees who place a few towels over the alarm to muffle the noise. 

Just so you know... here in Ohtawara, you have quite a lot of time between a fire alarm and the actual arrival of the fire alarm as the volunteer fire department usually has no idea where it is going thanks to the lack of street signs in the city.

Next, a curtain rises showing a set of doors... the doors slide open. A dry-ice machine begins spewing smog all over the hall. The loud music reaches a crescendo as the spotlight hits two very tiny people in a kimono and hakama.

The two people slowly begin to make their way down the tiny staircase as the guest applaud their deft grace at not falling down the stairs.

Needless to say, tripping and falling down the stairs ensues because the fog machine has obscured the steps, while the bright lights and strobing flash bulbs have totally disoriented one or both of the newlyweds.

After being helped up, the groom limps to the front of the room with the bride. Thank Buddha that's over with because everyone wants to drink (eating is optional). Ten minutes later, the bride exits with a flourish through a previously hidden door, and then returns with her father for the official giving away of the bride. 

There are more tears (from the father who, even though he is now heavily medicated, still can't believe he's getting this bum as a son-in-law) and cries from the drunk men who want more beer from the waitresses.

Then it's time for the obligatory wedding cake photographs. The bride and groom carefully walk up a few stairs (those lights are still shining brightly), and stand in front of a three-metre (~10-foot) high plastic cake. Yum. Just like what your mom used to make. Unfortunately. Your mom wasn't a great baker.

The newlyweds grasp a large machete knife and stand poised to stab the cake should it make any sudden moves. Although the cake suddenly begins spewing 'fog' from it's base, the couple are too catatonic from the strobing flashes to move away.

The lights are dimmed, more smoke begins to spew from the base and fireworks sparklers flash from the sides, It looks just like a Saturn V rocket warming up for a blast-off.

Then, the couple are allowed to site down at the head table. There are more speeches from the now totally drunk men no one remembers inviting, sobbing from women who just don't understand how a trollop like her could get married before them, and still more cries for beer. Drunken karaoke, women being felt up, and free English lessons ensue - and that's just from the gaijin table!

Ten minutes later, the bride and groom make another exit, and return quickly... back to that first entrance of theirs... the curtain rises, the doorway slides apart, the dry-ice reminds the men to smoke... after the bride's husband steps on her just put-on Western-style wedding dress, the bride does a one-and-a-half gainer with a twist to the floor. The bride's father is now re-medicated and drunk and is working on being in a coma.

The groom looks quite dapper in his tuxedo and leg brace (a reminder of his tumble). As they limp past the guests again to the front of the room, looks of confusion are visibly apparent on the bride and groom. Who are these people? Did you invite the gaijin? Who did? Are they rich? How much money did they give us? My leg hurts. How's your leg? Did you sleep with the gaijin? No, did you? Why doesn't someone get that bakayaro (stupid idiot) a beer? Can you seen anything? We should have eloped.

When I finally got a chance to talk to the groom, I kept mentioning the amount of video equipment being used. Do people really keep watching these things over and over again? Or is it to torture unknowing guests who have over-stayed their welcome at the house? I complained to him about the bright light shining constantly into my eyes. He then asked me a strange question - but since we were friends he knew I would have the appropriate answer.

"An-do-ryu-san (he called me Mister!), what would you do if you were rich?"

"I'd hire someone to beat up the photographers."

He handed me ¥20,000 ($200 Cdn/US) and smiled.

Finally, it was over. The guests stumbled out into the grey light and into their white cars, and then swerved over to the first of many bars.

The bride and groom were escorted into a waiting car and driven to their honeymoon hotel. The parents of the bride and groom then followed in a second car to the same hotel, where each set of parents would spend the night in a room on either side of the newlyweds. A quite night was had by all, as the smell of many a liquid muscle relaxant permeated the air.

And there you have it. 

This wedding was more traditional than others I eventually attended. This one did NOT have music by Queen (We Are The Champions). There were NO lasers shooting coloured beams. And there was NO glitter in the air or hair. On the plus side, at this boring old traditional wedding, everybody got presents - though I think I left mine behind.

As for me? Here's the last two lines of the 20th verse of the Rime of the Ancient Mariner poem that I began this blog entry with: 

"Why look'st thou so? With my crossbow

I shot the Cameraman."

Somewhere my love,

Andrew Joseph

Today's title is by the Georgia Satellites. IDO 

PS: The Rime of the Ancient Mariner was written by Samuel Taylor Coleridge, and is my favourite poem (along with the Jaberwocky).
PPS: In the photo at the very top is fellow AET on the JET Programme, Jeff Seaman and his lovely bride (whose name I've forgotten!! - sorry!)  (Her name is Masae - thanks Matthew!) The second photo shows a small hall where Jeff's reception took place. And the photo directly below shows a yawning Matthew behind Jeff and his new wife - after they have changed into their third and last costume of the evening.
PPPS: This was one of the later weddings I attended while in Japan. The one I wrote about is about 99 per cent accurate in description and antics. Unfortunately, it appears as though my house fire a few years ago took care of the photographic evidence.   

Light My Fire

I was wondering when it would happen. My friends had expected it almost from the instant I moved into my apartment here in Ohtawara-shi (city of Ohtawara), Tochigi-ken (Province of Tochigi), Nihon (Japan).
I had a lot of frayed octopus cords lying about the apa-to (apartment), but still... you never think it'll happen to you. And, will wonders never cease... it didn't.
One cloudy day in Ohtawara (that's redundant, it's always cloudy in Ohtawara), after peeping through my front door's peephole weren't waiting to waylay... I mean, speak to me, I opened up the door and walked out. Out into the thickest, most acrid, foul-smelling smoke I'd ever encountered since my last officer party two days earlier.
This time, however, the black smoke was billowing out from my neighbour's apartment!
Uh-oh! A fire! Just what I needed. Everytime I step out my door to by razor blades (only then), something happens. Fortunately for me and my writing, I need razor blades quite often.
Since I'm not Japanese, I decided to get involved.
Fortunately, I had just learned the Chinese/Japanese Kanji symbol for fire - 火... let's see... that's pronounced 'Ka', right? Like in the translation for Tuesday - 火曜日?
I began pounding on my neighbour's door yelling "Ka! Ka! Ka! Ka!", but there was no answer. I tried the door - feeling it first for heat (none), I turned the doorknob figuring the Japanese rarely lock them - but this time, it was locked! I guess living next door to a foreigner (gaijin) does have its drawbacks.
Next, I ran back into my apartment, dialed 9-1-1 - which is what we in North America dial to call for the police, ambulance or fire department. But not here in Japan or other countries.
As I hung up the phone and was about to dial again, the phone rang. I screamed into the phone: "Ka! Ka! Ka! Ka!"
Pausing for a second to catch my breath, I heard a "Herro" on the other end. Nertz. It was that student of mine from Nozaki Chu Gakko (Nozaki Junior High School) who liked to call me up and not speak English. He was/is mentally-challenged - but then who isn't? - but a heck of a nice boy with absolutely no sense of timing.
Without saying a word to him, I hang-up and dial 1-1-9! A voice on the other end says: "Konichiwa. (Hello). Chotto matte kudasai. (Just a moment, please)". Strains of Greensleeves stun my already stunned senses. I've been put on hold.
Once again, I raced out of my apartment and pounded on the neighbour's door. I then ran to the units of some other neighbours and pounded on their doors.
I could hear them inside! I could hear their eyeballs scratch up against the inside of the peephole as they stood on a chair to peep out. I screamed: "Ka! Ka! Ka! Ka!", but no one opened their door.
I ran down the stairs (I'm on the third floor) - never take the elevator! - and ran into the liquor shop directly below my place. I yelled: "Ka! Ka! Ka! Ka!"  to the old man who runs the store. He looks to his 30-year-old son before handing me a large bottle of sake (Japanese rice wine).
Quickly realizing they have missed the point, I thank them for the booze, bowing deeply, grab the old man's cigarette lighter from the counter and set fire to a display of HOPE cigarettes (Hope? Hope for what? Hope I don't die from cancer?).
The father and son both yell "Bakayaro (stupid idiot)!" and put the boxes of lit cigarettes into their mouth. Old habits, I guess.
The son, between gigantic puffs, then asks why I set fire to their display (in English, by the way!) I tell him in broken English (as apparently I've forgotten how to speak it in the last couple of years) that there is a fire upstairs!
The son screams: "Ay Carumba!" (I had lent him a video of The Simpson's) and calls the fire department for me.
His end of the translated phone call went something like this: "Fire! At Zuiko Haitsu! ... Where is it?... Uh, at the corner of two nameless streets... No... not that one... the one with the strange car... yes, that's right. The blue one!"
Seconds later (I forgot I actually live quite close to the fire station), the fire engine pulls up. The chief confers with the old man, who is still puffing away on 20 or more cigarettes. next, the firemen haul out their equipment and begin shooting a jet of water into my apartment on the third floor!
Bakayaro!
After 10 minutes of translation, I'm able to convince them that it's not my apartment on fire, but rather the one with the black smoke pouring out of it next door. They cart the equipment upstairs - they took the elevator! - and see the thick acrid smoke pouring out from an apartment. In unison, they yell: "Kaji!"
Okay... so that's how you say 'fire'.
They rush to the door and ring the doorbell. My neighbour unlatches the door and peers out. The chief asks: "Kaji desu ka (Is it a fire?)".
The husband smiles and says it's only the wife's cooking.
Not understanding why my neighbours didn't open up the door for me, I got the old man's son to write a translation for me.
It turns out (more translations) that with me yelling: "Ka! Ka! Ka! Ka!", they thought I was a large crow beating its wings on the door trying to get in to eat their crying child.

Somewhere sitting on a wet couch,
Andrew Joseph
PS: Originally entitled Come On Baby Light My Kaji, this blog's title is by the Doors: LIGHTMYFIRE.

Give Me Some Money

Guess what I've seen on television here in Japan? American icons in Japanese commercials that may never see the light of day outside of this country.

I saw Michael Jackson hawking a new Sega video game - Michael Jackson's Moonwalker. Yes, that's what I said, too. I asked my students about it - and while the one or two who knew what I was talking about and like the Thriller album, no tone said they wanted to buy or play that particular video game. Strangely enough, they were representative of the rest of the world. See the commercial here: CROTCHGRAB

The commercials over here are bizarre - picture if you will a beautiful  Japanese woman looking intently at a cup of noodles. She picks up her chopsticks with great aplomb and digs in with exuberance. She slurps them up really loudly. Disgustingly so. It kind of takes the sexiness of her right out of the equation. Apparently slurping up noodles loudly is a sign of... something. I have no idea. It's just something that is done by everyone here. Anyhow, I couldn't find that commercial, but here's a BETTER ONE .

I tried to fit in by slurping a bowl of noodles, but all I did was splatter liquid all over my shirts. Maybe I'll learn to slowly slurp and chew my noddles while making a slurping sound - to pretend I'm fitting in?

Or maybe I could just start drinking energy drinks to really be the life of the party. There's a commercial of Arnold Schwarzenegger hawking an energy drink called Alinamin V. He looks like a square at first (AET), is invited to drink, so he has the vitamin drink and turns into a superior drinker called the Terminator. Okay, not really, but check out the hair. It's like Coke in a bottle - cocaine, that is. Check it out: GOVERNOR

And then there's a commercial with Sylvester Stallone! Let me tell ya, no one over here will ever know he can't speak English. Yo! I don't even know what that ham is selling. ADRIAN!

Pierce Brosnan doing a Japanese cigarette commercial, I can understand - he's James friggin' Bond, and Bond at least smokes. SHAKEN

But check out these ads by David Lynch for Georgia Coffee - HERE. Georgia Coffee is owned by the Coca-Cola Company, and Georgia Coffee is a cold coffee with sugar and "cream/milk" in a thin can. I don't drink coffee circa 1990, but it is a fine cuppa joe. David Lynch created Twin Peaks - a very bizarre television show which had some air play in Japan for a few months in 1990.

Not much else to say at this time - just that even though I had previously thought Japan's television shows were warped, but so are its commercials - especially when American actors come over and hawk a product they've never heard of. It's pure Americana. It's also pure Japanese. I love it.

Take a look at this wonderful site for American-Japanese commercials: Blech.
Google for American actors Japanese commercials and see what you come up with.

Somewhere having an Alinamin V,
Andrew Joseph
Today's title is by Spinal Tap - It Goes To 11

One For The Road

It's Sunday, December 9, 1990 and I'm at the Kanemaru residence in the village of Kurobane which is south east Ohtawara (Although I believe in 2005 it joined up and became a part of Ohtawara-shi (Ohtawara City)).
I'm awoken at 7AM... and because I'm still young and stupid, last night's drinking does not hurt me. Never had a hangover in my life, in fact.
Breakfast is that old standby:  dinner leftovers (beef stew) and a quiche and we're out of the house at exactly 9AM.
Oh yeah, I had the mustard plaster removed from my back along with pretty much all of my back hair and skin... but skin pain aside, the muscles and bones feel pretty good.
As we head out on the highway, I'm still unsure where we're going. Tomahiro is feeling a little sick, but what is alarming is the fact that he isn't wearing his seatbelt beside me in the backseat. He says he doesn't ant to, and his folks (I love'em to death) don't seem to mind because they don't say a word.
Kanemaru-san's white Nissan Cherry Vanette (see photo below) has something on it that causes a bell to go off if the vehicle is driven over 100 kilometres per hour (kph). Man, that would drive me crazy. However, just to show he's a rebel, Kanemaru-san checks out my tolerance levels by driving no more and no less than 101 kph.

Okay, I finally realize that we are driving out to Ashikaga (southwest Tochigi-ken) to see the oldest school in Japan - it's supposed to be 500 years old.
When we arrive, I think it looks pretty darn good for its age. At the entrance/fee place, I pick up a brochure. It says Kurita Museum. Whoops. It's a pottery museum, and once you get past that fact, it's a pretty neat place.
next we spend 30 minutes looking for a place to eat lunch - Japanese food, of course,and I have tonkatsu (breaded pork cutlet) which is now my favourite food. Oink.
We then drive out to the school. Honto (Really). We park, walk up to the entrance and discover that it is closed today. It's time's like this when I am very glad I don't understand everything I hear because Mrs. Kanemaru was giving it to poor Kanemaru-san.
We then decided to go home... or so I thought. We parked again and stepped out onto the set of a television NHK samurai drama called Taiheiki about a guy named Ashikaga Takauiji, the first shogun of the Muromachi Shogunate in the 14th century.
The set looks exactly like a real old village, but it was built only two months ago.
Click HERE for some photos of Ashikaga.
Home is the next target. I think.
Kanemaru-san is falling asleep at the wheel. His wife, who can drive, is afraid to do so on the highway. We're all going to die. Tomahiro really should put his seatbelt on.
Anyhow, after a couple of packs of Golden Bat cigarettes and a few coffee breaks, we finally head of the highway at which point the missus takes over behind the wheel for the last 10 minutes of our trip back to my apartment.
I'm tired and really need to pee, so I trudge upstairs, open the door and walk into the bathroom, neglecting to close the door - why? It's my place.
Just as I'm about to finish, I hear someone call my name.
Peeing everywhere, I scream in mortal fear!
It's Ashley.
She said she spent the night waiting for me to show up after she and Matthew spent the night drinking at the local 4-Carat before they both crashed at my place for a while.
Anyhow, long story made longer, we're now back together. She tells me couldn't get me out of her mind, and in an attempt to do so she burned all of my photographs. Apparently that voodoo trick didn't work.
Anyhow, after we consumate our togetherness, I wryly think to myself that I've just been with three women in four days. I love Japan. I hate Canada. Not really, but I assume you know what I mean.
Sleep is no longer an option because while Ashley and are are working out our problems, I'm also in entertainment mode. Tim Mould calls. Matthew Hall calls. Kristine South calls. My parents call. Yeesh. Thank goodness Christine L. didn't call.
After I ride back with Ashely to her place and then an hour later ride back to mine, it's 2:10AM and I have to get up in four hours.

Somewhere wondering how I'm going to top this week,
Andrew Joseph
PS - Today's title is delivered by Judas Priest, and it was chosen only because the title presented triple entendres - which is why I created this blog in the first place. LISTEN if you dare. Man I have strange taste in music.
PPS - I just need Kristine to miraculously show up my place tomorrow. I can dream, can't I? It's been that kind of week. Too bad it's over.

Bad Case Of Loving You (Doctor, Doctor)

So, with my crappy eating habits (chili con carne three nights a week, spaghetti once or twice, and a prepared Japanese meal purchased from the local AiAi grocery store two or there times a week), it was no wonder that along with an increase in my waist line, I was also going to end up with some gastrointestinal disorder. And so it came to pass. And pass. And pass.

I had to spend a night in a Japanese hospital. Cue music! (DUN-DUN-DUNnnnnn!)

It started when my office (the OBOE - Ohtawara Board of Education) wanted me to take a physical to prove to my students that my stomach was a second gaijin (foreigner), as the thought of that frightened many. For some reason, the guy from my office who usually sits by the second incredible huge stack of papers to the left of the door--his name has only been whispered about, like he's a gajin or something), drove me to the local hospital - Ohtawara General Hospital - for my examination.

Apparently a few short weeks ago, this hospital was fingered by the national newspapers for a problem with morality. Here's why: 

When a person requires medicine, the hospital sells it to them in small waxen packages. the contents are invariably a fine purple powder that tastes like grapes, if grapes tasted like rotting road kill. Now, if there is an excess of medicine remaining after you are either cured or die of complications brought on by said medicine, your or your next of kin who is female is required to bring the remaining packages back to the hospital. Now, you might think this would get one some financial relief - but no! The hospital in its infinite wisdom does not offer the partial refund, instead merely offering a bow (the nod to those less superior than the medical community) (that's everyone) while offering a 'sumimasen' (excuse me). The medicine is then re-sold to the next sick person with an exact but not necessarily similar illness. It's called double charging. It sounds so... I don't know... international?

So, I was dropped off by the nameless guy who then excused himself to go back to the office to hide within his paperwork. A nurse came out, noticed there was a gaijin in the waiting room (me), and quickly ran away to hide in the nurse's room (aka closet). A short few hours later, a tired doctor with a cigarette dangling precariously from his lips approached, coughed some acrid smoke on me and told me in perfect English English (like from England) to: "Take this off", "Cough now", "Spread this," "Urinate into that", I almost got the order right.

Turns out I had blood in my urine (unrelated to my gut, but a welcome diagnosis). I figured they could just slap a Band-Aid on it, but no, they wanted me to stay over night for further tests and observation. Ha! As if I'm not observed enough already in this country.

So I'm lying there in my semi-private room with 40 other hapless souls listening to the Enka music (Japanese muzak) being piped over the speaker system. (Click HERE , if you dare) (okay, it's not that bad) (And the girl is cute). At this time, the nurses began singing along with a portable karaoke machine (karaoke translates into 'crappy Asian singing contest').

All of us sickos were wearing white gowns open at the back. The rear opening gown is an international thing designed to give the nurses a thrill, make'em laugh or a chance for us to catch double pneumonia and an opportunity for an extended, expensive hospital stay.

After a while of mind-numbing numbness brought on by the Enka music (I think it's called general anesthetic here in Japan), an orderly rattled in with our dinners. Talk about internationalization! This was just like being back home! In a hospital! With bland, grey food containing just the right amount of mystery animal (I guessed squid), vegetable (no clue) and mineral (mica) to make it a challenge to keep in one's gullet.

I was wrong, though. It was natto (rotting/fermenting soy beans). But, since I like natto, I ate my grey glob and licked my wooden hashi (chopsticks) clean so that they could be used by the next patient. Trust me. It was a bonus to be served natto first.

Still swallowing the goopy goop, the doctor came in with his cigarette and told the nurses to stop with the karaoke. The airwaves swelled up with the Sounds of Silence as the Simon & Garfunkel tune continued to play without words. Because he was busy smoking, the doctor performed pantomime to inform me that my urine sample had been switched with someone else, though judging by the side of my stomach there was still a chance I could be pregnant.

I tapped my belly, and with my mouth still trying to chew the stringy mess that is natto, I mumbled "Budweiser onegaishimasu" (Beer me, please). 

The doctor smiled and said I was "Fine thank-you, and you?"

I happily rolled off the wheeled stretcher and put on my street clothes - which were now dry-cleaned... thanks orderlies! - and then doubled over with some vicious stomach cramps. 

The hospital, sensing I was a tad uncomfortable, tried to sell me the antidote to dinner. I decided not to pay as I figured the diarrhea would help me lose weight.

Somewhere squeezing the Charmin,

Andrew Joseph

Today's title is by Robert Palmer, the best dressed man in rock and roll: he's SIMPLY IRRESISTIBLE! (which is the title of another song of his).
PS - obviously me in the photo dressed up as a doctor. The woman in the nurse's uniform is indeed a nurse who works at the hospital mentioned above. She and the rest of the smiling happy people are part of the Ohtawara International Friendship Association - and excluding the gent on my right, I was fortunate to teach them all English once a week for three years. I didn't think they had learned anything in all that time... but at my good-bye party they were all competent enough to create their own good-bye speeches. It was beautiful. I'm a teacher!  The guy on my right? He's a teacher at Kaneda Kita Chu Gakko and along with being shy, he was a very intelligent, caring and all-around nice fellow. More on him later.

Smoke Gets In Your Eyes

Originally Called: Plain Trains - Not Automobiles.

Like a lot of people in Japan, I seem to spend a lot of time on the train. Of course, for me, it's weekends only, as I'm either off to visit a fellow gaijin AET friend, shopping down in Tochigi-ken's capital of Utsunomiya, partying down in Tokyo or simply sight-seeing (all of which usually involves me getting horribly, horribly lost).

It's difficult to explain why (sheer incompetence), but along with the not knowing where the heck I am, a lot of weird stuff seems to happen around me when I travel by JR (Japan Railway) rail. But, the topic is not 'why weird things happen to me' but rather it's about water sports.

"Wha-? On the train?" I hear you ask incredulously. Yup, but first I have to tell you about the time a traveled down to Mamada (it's a small little podunk of a place in Tochigi-ken, that was home to one of my good friends, one James 'Jimmy Jive' Dalton, formerly of Stoney Creek, Ontario in Canada.

I, as per my norm, was sitting in the non-smoking train car watching people speak without actually opening their mouth or moving their lips (more on this later). I was sitting at the far end of the car taking in the freshness of the air (or rather the freshness of the air, such as it is, when you inadvertently sit beside the washroom), when a tiny old man who must have been 90-years-old if he was four-feet tall (usually a given, but in this case, it was pretty close), ambled into the car and sat directly opposite me.

He squinted at me and then spat on the ground (not the water sports), apparently to reclaim his territory. He then reached into his coat pocket and fumbled around for a few seconds. His gnarled right hand emerged with a pack of Lucky Seven extra-strength smokes. His gnarled left hand pulled out a lighter and flicked his BIC lighting one of the cigarettes.. He inhaled. He exhaled and bathed himself in a haze of blue-grey smoke. He continued to puff away like the little Nihonjin that could until he finished. Then he lit up another.

That was when a young salaryman (that's any person not defined by a major career - journalist, policeman, etc., who earns a salary, and is considered the ideal job for any upstanding young Japanese male) who was sitting to my left leaned forward and in no uncertain terms told the old man to stop smoking in the non-smoking car!

The old man said: "Eh? (Huh?)", looked away and continued to smoke. Mr. Salaryman leaned over a little closer to the old man and spoke with extreme loudness, that if the old boy didn't immediately extinguish the cigarette, he would do it for him.

(Believe it or not, while I couldn't speak enough Japanese to seem intelligent, I was very adept at understanding spoken Japanese! Actually, it works that way for everybody learning a new language).

The old man wiped away some of the salary man's spittle from his eyes (not the water sports. Later. I promise.), he replied: "Eh? Iie (Huh? No... ii-e is pronounced eeee-ya or eee-eh, depedning on where in Japan you are from)." and looked away again.

Now that's when the cannon to the left of me (salary man) grabbed the cannon to the right of me (a fire extinguisher), pulled the green tab and squeezed the trigger.

A white powdery substance exploded all over the old man's cigarette, face, hair, clothes and of course, seat, window and gaijin (me). The entire train car was silent except for that clickety-clack sound, but you know what I mean.

Everyone in that car quickly looked back down into their comic books (later blog), unsure if they had seen what thought they had seen happen here in boringly polite Japan. I took that as my cue to laugh my head off. Mr. Salary Man pipped in, followed by the rest of the car. Even the old man cracked a white-faced toothless grin as he dropped his fire extinguished cigarette. I decided to look at the bigger picture, and thought this young man probably saved the old man from having his lower jaw removed after it becomes riddled with cancer. he may even have saved his life.

Okay. An interesting story, but no water sports yet. Wait. I almost forgot to tell you how the Japanese are probably the world's best ventriloquists. On those occasions when I forget to bring a book on the train and get tired of counting the number of women with knock-knees, I look at faces. I've noticed that people on the train seem to talk without moving any part of their mouth, save their tongue, and I'm unsure about that because they speak with their teeth clamped shut. Their lips are usually spread a few centimetres (an inch) apart. Come to think of it, the only time I've seen the Japanese open their mouth really wide is when they are yawning in my classes or cramming their entire lunch in so they can swallow it whole in one gulp.

Right. On to the water sports. The Japanese, true to form, love to sleep as much as they can - perhaps because of the long hours spent at work, at school or working around the house or farm. They try and grab a few winks whenever they can.

So it's no surprise that when they board a train, they sit back in their seat, drop their head forward and are asleep. I have only known one person who isn't Japanese who can do that, and she'll remain nameless - okay, it's my ex-girlfriend Ashley who still sleeps with me (this is really confusing to me). Anyhow, some of these sleepers bear closer scrutiny - why? - because they drool.

This is the water sports portion of the story, although it's not about my ex-girlfriend because she doesn't drool - she made me say that. Incidentally, five lines later, she is no longer sleeping with me.

Just yesterday (it won't be yesterday by the time you read this. It might be a week, a month or possibly even 19 years ago), but there was a guy beside me who had dropped his head in sleep. (Aha - I see a pattern forming!)

He parted his lips a few centimetres (a real pattern!) and dropped a big goober down onto his paisley tie. It was hilarious! Every time the train hit a bump, which was often due to the clickety-clack (few people seem to care that the bump actually occurs on the 'clickety' section and not the 'clack' section - we just don't feel the bump until the 'clack' sound hits our ears)  - now where the heck was I? These annoying segues confuse the heck out of me.

Oh yeah, every time the train hit a bump, he spilled more saliva all over himself. Every bump, a whole new pattern. And, after watching him intently for a while, I noticed that his tie wasn't originally paisley.

Somewhere with a squeegee,
Andrew Joseph
Today's title is by The Platters: Give a LISTEN and here's a different version from Fred and Ginger CLASSY.
PS: Picture is me wearing a JR (Japan Railway) hat given away for some purpose - make fun of gaijin day or something like that. I'm standing in a junior high school teacher's lounge. It must either be October/November or March/April judging by my sweater and brightness of the day. I'm kidding. How the hell would I know that.