So...how
densely packed IS Japan?
Let me put it this way. I've lived in this house in Kawaguchi for almost one year (I moved in the second week of June.) Kawaguchi is, relatively speaking, "rural." I put "rural" in quotes, because in any other place, it would be the center of a big city.
I've spent a lot of time walking around, exploring, taking pictures, even doing a page entirely devoted to the preponderance of lime green around here.
And yet, I just discovered that there's not only an entirely different train line that runs through Kawaguchi, it's actually closer to my house than the one I take to work.
Mucus not included.
It's a subway, actually. WAY down in the ground (I'm guessing it's about five stories underground.) It's opened up a whole different neighborhood.
If you take it North, it stops at Saitama Stadium.
One can not merely waltz into Saitama Stadium, however. There are rules.
"Do Not Try To Kill Birds With Golf Clubs."
"Do Not Waggle Your Butt At Creepy Ghost Dogs."
"Be Alert! Your Dog May Develop The Ability To Write In English."
Uh...never mind.
On the train itself, there is all sorts of useful information. Like the assortment of animals that can be found in Japan.
Speaking of which, did you even wonder how your digestive system works? You chew food, which mixes it with saliva. Then gastric juices break the food down, and it moves through your body with a motion called peristalsis.
"Peristalsis" is a medical term for the beavers that live in your butt. Here they are in a rare photo.
Once you're finished there, if you take the subway South, it actually plops you straight into Roppongi, the party/bar area. It would have been enormously helpful if I had found this sooner, since the Keiji Haino show I saw last week was a few minutes' walk from the station (I probably could have saved about forty five minutes.)
Ah well. I DID see this, however. How many of these things are there in Tokyo, anyway?
Walking in, you're greeted with a vintage Sex Pistols poster.
...which, naturally, means that Avril Lavigne is nearby.
Apparently, Cheap Trick played the opening.
There have been a few other luminaries as well...
...and, uh, others.
Much as I love this place, it does have its downside.
These guys like to hang out in front of the station, angrily shouting about how foreigners are hurting the country, how foreign languages are popping up everywhere they don't belong, etc...you know the drill. They also like to drive around businesses with a large foreign contingent, blaring music (that sounds suspiciously European) that all but drowns out all other sounds.
It's essentially toothless. Most people don't take these guys seriously (you can see just how enthralled his audience is.) The worst it gets is to the level of eye-rolling annoyance. The guy on the truck was NOT happy when he saw I had taken his picture, however.
So, what WAS he really saying? My Japanese can charitably be described as mediocre, but I think it's something like this:
One common misconception that the West has about Japan is that people are shorter here. No. I'm just shy of six foot, and there are plenty of people taller then me. They are, on the whole, slimmer, but that says more about Western eating habits than it does about Japan. That said, you do occasionally see some truly diminutive people.
Here's one on his way to a tennis game. He hardly looks big enough to swing the racket.
Guess that's what happens when you eat candy fish all the time.
Yes, those are made of sugar.
Ah, this kind of stuff never gets old, does it?
Dogs are popular here. The dumber the better.
"Can I ram my head into the wall again? Can I can I can I?"
Some people (probably those who are tired of ankle height holes in the wall) keep theirs outside.
OK, that's it for this update. In a couple of weeks, Niels, Connie, Erik and Fiona Hansen will be visiting from my old job at the graphics firm. In their honor, I offer some advice concerning fonts.
Be careful which font you choose when writing the word "C-L-I-C-K."
As always, mail me here.
Let me put it this way. I've lived in this house in Kawaguchi for almost one year (I moved in the second week of June.) Kawaguchi is, relatively speaking, "rural." I put "rural" in quotes, because in any other place, it would be the center of a big city.
I've spent a lot of time walking around, exploring, taking pictures, even doing a page entirely devoted to the preponderance of lime green around here.
And yet, I just discovered that there's not only an entirely different train line that runs through Kawaguchi, it's actually closer to my house than the one I take to work.
Mucus not included.
It's a subway, actually. WAY down in the ground (I'm guessing it's about five stories underground.) It's opened up a whole different neighborhood.
If you take it North, it stops at Saitama Stadium.
One can not merely waltz into Saitama Stadium, however. There are rules.
"Do Not Try To Kill Birds With Golf Clubs."
"Do Not Waggle Your Butt At Creepy Ghost Dogs."
"Be Alert! Your Dog May Develop The Ability To Write In English."
Uh...never mind.
On the train itself, there is all sorts of useful information. Like the assortment of animals that can be found in Japan.
Speaking of which, did you even wonder how your digestive system works? You chew food, which mixes it with saliva. Then gastric juices break the food down, and it moves through your body with a motion called peristalsis.
"Peristalsis" is a medical term for the beavers that live in your butt. Here they are in a rare photo.
Once you're finished there, if you take the subway South, it actually plops you straight into Roppongi, the party/bar area. It would have been enormously helpful if I had found this sooner, since the Keiji Haino show I saw last week was a few minutes' walk from the station (I probably could have saved about forty five minutes.)
Ah well. I DID see this, however. How many of these things are there in Tokyo, anyway?
Walking in, you're greeted with a vintage Sex Pistols poster.
...which, naturally, means that Avril Lavigne is nearby.
Apparently, Cheap Trick played the opening.
There have been a few other luminaries as well...
...and, uh, others.
Much as I love this place, it does have its downside.
These guys like to hang out in front of the station, angrily shouting about how foreigners are hurting the country, how foreign languages are popping up everywhere they don't belong, etc...you know the drill. They also like to drive around businesses with a large foreign contingent, blaring music (that sounds suspiciously European) that all but drowns out all other sounds.
It's essentially toothless. Most people don't take these guys seriously (you can see just how enthralled his audience is.) The worst it gets is to the level of eye-rolling annoyance. The guy on the truck was NOT happy when he saw I had taken his picture, however.
So, what WAS he really saying? My Japanese can charitably be described as mediocre, but I think it's something like this:
One common misconception that the West has about Japan is that people are shorter here. No. I'm just shy of six foot, and there are plenty of people taller then me. They are, on the whole, slimmer, but that says more about Western eating habits than it does about Japan. That said, you do occasionally see some truly diminutive people.
Here's one on his way to a tennis game. He hardly looks big enough to swing the racket.
Guess that's what happens when you eat candy fish all the time.
Yes, those are made of sugar.
Ah, this kind of stuff never gets old, does it?
Dogs are popular here. The dumber the better.
"Can I ram my head into the wall again? Can I can I can I?"
Some people (probably those who are tired of ankle height holes in the wall) keep theirs outside.
OK, that's it for this update. In a couple of weeks, Niels, Connie, Erik and Fiona Hansen will be visiting from my old job at the graphics firm. In their honor, I offer some advice concerning fonts.
Be careful which font you choose when writing the word "C-L-I-C-K."
As always, mail me here.