The Cranes

Symbols of peace and longevity, the paper crane is festooned around Hiroshima`s many shrines.

Fruits

After sushi-lunch with my flatmate on the weekend, we stumbled upon this crowd of people who had finished a fashion-hair parade. I snapped a piccie or two with my phone. Alack, the piccies are very small! I have to wait a few months before I can afford a digital camera.

Miyajima and memories of tattooed men

On Sunday, fellow Kiwi scholar Miss M and I trekked to the island of Miyajima for the Full Moon Festival. This festival was held from Saturday to Monday, but peasant folk Miss M and I could only afford a one-day ticket.

After only 2 and a half hours sleep, we found ourselves blinking in the bright morning sunshine at Miyajima ferry stop. I thought of breakfast as I watched the notorious Miyajima reindeer devouring crisps, cakes, Coke cans, sweet wrappers, a JR Rail Pass and a small child. Due to my previous experience of antlered locals, I steered well clear. Miyajima is a delightful island that is leafy with maple trees and ferns - the former making it a major tourist attraction in autumn, and the latter giving the place a New Zealandish flavour. Miyajima is also well-known for the red torii gate which stands tall in the sea: a striking gateway to the island. A string of neighbouring islands were seen in the distance - volcanic shapes, conical and dark.

Miss M and I hopped onto a ute for our ride to the festival on the other side of the island. The ute was packed with various hippie Japanese boys and girls heading to the festival. We sped along fern-lined roads and the sea breeze ruffled Miss Ember`s perfectly straight bob, meddled with one J-girl`s Native American-style plaits and whipped numerous dreadlocks into further disarray. We alighted at a small, remote beach which was covered in a carnival of tents: a mini Glastonbury by the sea.

Under the shade of trees and canvas, festivalgoers dozed, plucked at guitars, plaited each other`s hair or nibbled on sushi. Many women wore long Indian skirts with bells tinkling on their toes. Others had swathes of pink-blonde or woolly hair tucked under pixie hats, fuzzy and many-coloured. Boys had shaved hair, or long cascades of dreads (one fellow`s hair hung beneath his knees!) or flouncy girlish styles that lent them an elfin look. Many boys and girls were beautifully tattooed. The Japanese tan very well, so that their skin is a fine shade of chocolate which is an excellent canvas for traditional-style rainbow tattoos of dragons, koi fish and warriors. I think that colourful tattoos are like stained glass on dark skin; somehow the colour is richer than on white.

Miss M and I settled on the sand to watch bands. There was a troupe of traditional Japanese drummers, who hammered drums as big as cauldrons with sticks as big as baseball bats. They sang and drummed and jumped and rolled and fluttered about with red fans. Then there was a band consisting of six bongo drummers, a singer, three guitarists and a didgeridoo. It was amazing. Miss M and I enjoyed the drowsy afternoon listening to the reggae-style beats, sitting on the sand, admiring the view of islands, the sea and the little hippie kiddies playing in the waves, as well as the lead singer of said outfit, who was tanned to the colouring of a chocolate egg, whose toned chest was panelled with painted dragons and whose fringe flounced from side to side in true Suede-style. Most diverting!

Miss M and I splodged about in the sea to cool off, but we had to be careful of typhoon debris which washed up onto the sand. Whole trees could be seen bobbing on the horizon, and one had to be vigilant that a stray branch/car tyre/pram didn`t get snagged between one`s toes while strolling along.

We ended our day with a chocolate ice-cream (from a vending machine, of course) overlooking the red torii as the sun went down, and fending off deer with our GetHiroshima Maps. Marvellous!

Hip-hop, ya don`t stop!

Miss-Ember-in-hiphop-nightclub Shock! World in crisis!

Yes, due to the dearth (or death) of goth clubs here in Hiroshima - and the overabundance of gaijin bars where marines go-go dance and grope anything female in sight - Miss Ember ventured bravely into the world of hiphop on Saturday night, accompanied by two Kiwi scholars.

Hiphop is very popular amongst boy-and-girl locals alike which meant Club Jamaica was packed with bouncy, happy Japanese. Club Jamaica is a basement club and `twas most squishy but pleasantly decorated in gaudy chandeliers and a forest of bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling, like some sort of Yoko Ono exhibition. Many a J-girl was decked out in bling finery: short skirt, oversized basketball sneakers, baseball cap turned backwards, push-up bra (nb - all Japanese lingerie shops stock padded bras, which means I`ll be hard-pushed finding something unpadded) and various gold accessories. The boys were baggy-panted and tight-singleted, but thankfully didn`t overdo the gold jewellery.

It was interesting to watch the Japanese lose their reserve - they went crazy ... dancing their hearts out alone or in pairs, whooping along to the music. Some were quite noicely choreographed in their leapings and tumblings so that I felt trapped in a peculiar, Oriental-style Janet Jackson film clip. My fellow Kiwi female friend and I had to fend off the attention of a couple of gate-crashing marines and the occassional Japanese shiatsu masseuse (`your energy is in your elbows!`), but along with our beefy Kiwi protector, we boogied on down to songs about leaving one`s car keys at a party and lovely ballads about well-endowed Latino girls.

All-in-all, a fun night was had by all, and we made it safely to Churios for the traditional end-of-night falafal (the best I`ve ever had!). I have since discovered that an indie Britpop night is scheduled in early October so will be there with bells (and pinstripes) on.

The Japanese Squiffermarket

Here in Nippon one can buy alcohol at the supermarket. So while browsing through the tempura sets, fishheads and fair noodles green, why not pick up a carton of sake to take home too? Many a beverage is sold in cartons, ala Crusta Orange Juice. As well as sake, there are spirits, wine (including a bottle of Penfolds, which gave me many a flashback of nights in Old Sidonee Town and Magill University) and my current fave, plum wine.

Plum wine is most refreshing served chilled in a tall glass with a big wallop of ice cubes. It is very sweet, but not as syrupy or sticky as Australian dessert wines. I also adore sake, especially when served hot. But as I`ve discovered, the Japanese are very sensible so that when the weather is hot and humid, sake and noodles (especially soba) are served cold, and in winter they`re served hot. At first I was put off by the sight of green soba noodles in a bamboo dish with a few ice cubes. But icy cold noodles are so invigorating in this humid weather! And washed down with a chilled glass of plum wine - marvellous!

Hello Kitty Kareoke

On Sunday night I was welcomed to Hiroshima by my fellow teachers with an all-you-can-eat-all-you-can-squiff Japanese-Italian dinner (sashimi meets pizza) where I discovered the most excellent beverage for my lush-ious leanings: kiru. Kiru is white wine mixed with a berry-like liqueuer ... reminiscent of Ribena (an alcomoholic version). Japan is famous for its beer, and I have given it a go but cannot swallow more than a quarter of the stuff. Who can drink a glass of yeast anyway? Not me, matey. So I stuck with kiru all the way which led me and my scholarly fellows to an anarchic round of drinking games (`fluffy duck ducky fuzz`, japanese whispers and english whispers) plus my initiation into the world of kareoke.

And it wasn`t just any kareoke, it was Hello Kitty Kareoke! Once inside the Parlour Le Kitten, I observed a series of little rooms. Each was equipped with a table surrounded by comfy chairs that sit around 10 ... a drinks menu ... a food menu ... a song menu ... a little phone for which to ring in your drinks order ... tambourines for atmosphere ... and most importantly, Hello Kitty decorations! The walls of our room were plastered with Her Kittiness. Other rooms had more adventurous themes: there was Hello Kitty Heaven - with Hello Kitty angels stuck to the wall along with a few fluffy clouds. And there was Hello Kitty church - a long narrow room where the walls were punctuated with tall skinny church-like stained-glass windows and where a Priestess Kitty picture lorded over her trashificated congregation. Most spiff.

So loaded with far too many a kiru or six, and with tambourine in hand, Miss Ember - along with a band of seven others - took to the stage, or ... erm ... table, with an array of pop hits including:

• Walk Like an Egyptian by The Bangles
• Sweet Child O Mine by Guns n Roses
• Baby Got Back by Sir Mixalot (one for the chilll-dren, says Tubbs!)
• Better Man by Pearl Jam
• Vogue by Madonna
• Something Really Crap by Bon Jovi

And much much more! A night of pure trash was had by all. And remember kids, kareoke is only fun when one attempts it when slightly tiddled, unceremoniously squiffed, or completely whammed. Please do not attempt it while sober, otherwise it will just end in tears, tantrums, tambourines shoved up unspeakable places and, in the worst instance, mass murder. Right, kids?

Email access problems

Hallo Kids,

Just a quick note that something rather odd is going on with Ozemail or MyMail access ... their website recently got a facelift (at last I can finally have an addressbook and not key in email addresses every time!) but now it`s not working and I cannot access my email, so I might be quiet on the email front for a few days ...

Miss E

The weekend is nigh!

My plans for the weekend include ...

• going to my first Japanese language class at the International Centre
• visiting the oft-talked of shopping mall, Diamond City, in order to visit the Totoro Shop and buy Totoro or Kiki doorway curtains for my bedroom
• checking out two tofu restaurants recommended to me by students: Tosho, near the Hijima Shrine, which apparently has a pretty Japanese garden; and a more upmarket one in the Fukuya Dept store (or Fcuk-ya)
• wandering about the nearby hills on a shrine walk or two

Also next week I plan to see Charlie and the Chocolate Factory on Wednesday ... in Japan, Wednesday is Ladies` Day (`I`m a laaaaady!`) in all cinemas, which means laaadies get in for a cheap price ($12 instead of $25 ... yes the cinema is quite pricey here). But on further reflection, I`m willing for a shilling to fork out $25 to see Johnny Depp in a velvet coat, so I might visit WonkaLand sooner. Woof!

Hiroshima`s Special Stuff

The dishiest dish of Hiroshima is the amazingly versatile okonomiyaki, or savoury pancake. The pancake comprises of cabbage, egg and noodles (soba or udon) and you can add just about anything you like to it: vegies, meat, seafood or cheese. The popular combo here is pork, soba and egg, but as I`m not a fan of the Porco Rosso, I had the vegie version. It is cooked on an iron hotplate. Usually, one is seated around the hotplate so that the cooking of the pancake can be observed; also in some okonomiyaki restaurants, the staff invite you to cook you own as you sit at the bar. The pancake is bloody huge: I requested a half-size and could barely finish it. It is a tad greasy and is rather like the Japanese version of a huge fry-up, where the hot egginess and greasiness washes away one`s hangover. Methinks a most spiffsome plan would be to get absolutely whammed on sake and then, the next day with raging headache in tow, drag oneself to the nearest okonomiyaki bar and stuff myself silly. Have made mental note to this effect.

Can I have another piece of chocolate ... loaf?

In Japan, bread is sold in bags of 4-6 slices and costs around $3. So one can imagine the amount of `loaves` one devours, especially in a household of three people. Usually the bread is ultra-bleached Omo white in hue. There are a few wholegrain varieties, but bright white tends to dominate. As I fancied nibbling on something of a more bread-like colouring, I happily pounced on the last remaining pack of brown bread.

While toasting my brown bread at home, a strange smell infiltrated the kitchen. It was the rich, sweet homely smell of baking. I whipped out my slice of toast and gave it a big sniff. Alack! Behold! This wasn`t brown bread! I waved it in front of my flatmate.

`Does this smell like cake to you?`
`It does. Chocolate cake, I think.`

And indeed it was! I`d mistakenly purchased a loaf of pure chocolate! And there, on the bottom of the packet, was a tiny picture of a cocoa bean - the only thing to denote that this indeed was a loaf of chocolate bread. I have since learned that chocolate bread is simply wrong. And there it still sits, forlorn and rejected, alone on top of the bread bin.

Typhoonically speaking...

... it was rather a ripsnorter. Mainly for the residents of Kyushu, that is, who by all accounts got a terrible thrashing (11 people got squished). Prior to my shift, all the shops were rolling down there doors from around 2pm and closing up. The crowds in Hatchobori and Hondori Shopping Arcade thinned rapidly, and when I finished work the city was a bit of a ghost town and the rain was teeming down, so I cabbed it home (the streetcars had ceased to run at around 3pm). The typhoon hit at about 1am. Miss Ember`s beauty sleep was constantly interrupted by loud bangings, howling winds and lashing rain. In the morning, there was no serious damage other than an overturned potplant and an upside-down clothes rack. Outside, the Kyobashi River was full to the brim (it`s usually low in the mornings due to tidal influences etc) and in the Marine town of Iwakuni, there was a massive landslide where a freeway that wound around a hillside collapsed, wiping out a cluster of houses below. Eek!

September is typhoon season, so I`ll brace myself most elegantly for another violent deluge anytime soon.

Aunty Em, Aunty Em, a typhoon`s a`comin!

Last night`s students warned Miss Ember that a typhoon is coming to town. It is scheduled to create chaos at 6pm, right in the middle of my shift. Many a student pikes during a typhoon, so a quiet night awaits me.

Apparently, the typhoon - although of dramatic sounding name - is generally not a cyclone or hurricane, but a mere trifle of a violent storm. Some are terribly gusty with gale force winds and torrential rain causing flooding, others are pissweak (pardon my Late Show French) with only a wee sprinkle and a pathetic breeze. So it could be nothing major, although I did just receive an email from the Australian Consulate warning me that a typhoon was coming and that I better get an emergency supply pack ready for the worst ... EEK! But so far, I`m alive and well. As long as my Japanese neighbours don`t suddenly transform into a band of psychotic, gun-wielding looters, all will be fine.

The Japanese Garden

On Sunday I visited the Shukkeien Garden which is located across the Kyobashi River opposite my apartment. I had the most delightful meander in the late afternoon rain. The gardens were originally designed in the 1300s based on the Chinese-style of creating miniature scenes and having one long circular path encompass them all: an arched bridge over a stream, a silver waterfall cascading over mossy rocks, a wizened pine tree crooked on a little island in the middle of a lake.

With notebook in tow (recycled from 1000 paper cranes), I sheltered underneath a wooden pagoda, penning the occassional haiku and looking out over the lake as enormous koi carp leapt out of the water and bared their silver bellies to the grey sky above. Fish appeared to be joyous of the rain, and continually somersaulted from the water in displays of frivolity. `Twas amazing to watch! They would break the surface, then launch, skip and splosh! Several turtles came to visit me as I tiptoed across stepping-stones over the streams - their little heads bobbing along, blinking through bubbles. Many of the maple trees are beginning to turn with the onset of autumn, and their leaves were like a cathedral of tiny blood-tinged stars. Shambling, thatch-roofed teahouses were nestled among the maple trees, however due to the rain, their sliding doors were firmly closed up and there was not a soul in sight.

It sounds a bit twee, but this garden is seriously like a Japanese version of Rivendell ala LOTR. Most ethereal and peaceful.

I`ll endeavor to visit this garden every week to seek solitude and a little haiku-writing.

ps photos above were snapped on my supersonic new mobile phone - it has email, the net and a camera - so are quite teeny-weeny.

Food glorious food!

Fellow American teacher - Mr J - and I recently discovered a brilliant izakaya amid the labyrinthine Sauce District, where Saucettes dressed up in formal eveningwear entertain dishevelled businessmen, and all is afire in the light of neon advertising and red lanterns.

This izakaya, decorated with pictures of the Hiroshima Carp Baseball Team, had a hearty meal for us tired teachers. First we had a sweet salad of cabbage and ginger. Then, we had skewers of piping hot tofu - cooked before us - along with skewers of huge juicy mushrooms, served with hot hot hot horseyradish sauce and raw garlic, with a squeeze of lemon. Mr J nibbled on a fried octopus or two, and we had hot sake to toast our new careers. Kampai!

To finally fill us up, we had miso soup, a bowl of rice with pickles and a cup of hot green tea. Yum!

Workin` Gal

Friday night was my first time on the jobby. I`m currently teaching adults, so basically anyone from 15 years old to 99. The maximum number of people I have in a class is 4. On Friday, we covered topics such as talking to old friends; talking about which townhouse, flat, apartment, McMansion one likes and why; and ordering pizza. There is also a freestyle-talking room called Voice in which we can talk about anything - so we nattered about music festivals, floristry, Tasmania, bushfires and earthquakes. Most interestment!

The students are very hard-working and always strive to correct themselves and get everything right - they are most impressive and inspiring. My office is a small one with about 8 teachers including Kiwis, Aussies and Canadians. The office is located in the heart of Hiroshima`s shopping district and right near the nightlife (and redlight) districts. It takes me 20 minutes to get to work by walking and taking the charming, rattly old streetcar.

I`ve noticed that most teachers have acquired an International Accent. For example, Kiwis sound a bit like Kiwis, but they also sound English and American. Aussies are the same. Canadians sound a bit British and Canadian, while Americans sound just like Americans. So beware, Miss Ember`s accent might morph into a strange Frankenaccent. Perhaps my Geordie twang will be imparted on my students, as in `Howaaaay, Takashi, let`s gan into the toon!`. Or perhaps not.

The Japanese Lav

Much has been made of the Japanese lav, and indeed everything one hears about Japanese toilet culture, or indeed, couture, is true.

For starters, in hotels and ryokans, one must don the Japanese Lav Slippers, often unmistakeably printed with the word TOILET. One must not stray from the Path of Lav to the Path of Bath wearing the Lav Slippers. One must slip out of them after departing the WC, and shufty about in Indoors Slippers instead.

There are two Japanese lavs: the Squat and the Western. The Squat is easy-peasy (pardon the pun). Turn one`s back to the hood, toileticate, and flush. But the Best Western is a tad complicated.

There are so many buttons! There is a button depicting a Bottom with Water Going Up It. There is a button depicting a Woman With Permed Hair on it. There is a button with a Musical Note on it. And there are other buttons with hirigana characters on them. I dare not press those! The Bottom button gives one quite a shock (a sharp, ice-cold jet of water up the jacksie). The Musical Note button plays a horrendous recording of a toilet flushing which sounds more like a tsunami sweeping away an Indonesian waterfront hotel. Its intention is to cover up `embarrassing sounds`, but I must admit its ear-splitting volume is more embarrassing than any biological cacophany. I nearly fell off the toilet laughing.

And the Woman With Permed Hair? As yet, I haven`t pressed this one in case
a) I get something permed.
b) I get electrocuted.

Livin` in the Eighties

The 80s is big in Japan. It could be a current fad, but 80s stoof is everywhere.

When shopping in the local shops, I`ve been confronted by a colourful cast of 80s characters, such as ...

Alf dolls (scary)
ET dolls with luminous finger (this terrified me as a child)
Minnie Mouse T-shirts
Minnie Mouse knickers
Flanny shirts (yes, every seconhand clothes store has a flanny rack)

Plus Wham! have whammed me in every clothing shop. Eeeek!