The Moon Rose

Sitting Ducks

tokyorose — Tue, 15 Mar 2011 13:32:22 +0000

these past few days i’ve learnt more than i ever wanted to know about nuclear power plants. i haven’t slept, been translating and passing on news articles almost around the clock to people i really love, but have yet to convince to leave their homes and preferrably the country. by some lucky coincidence i’m not there myself, i was scheduled to arrive on saturday morning. instead i have a flight booked for this friday, which of course i’ll never use. the sheer lack of information baffles and frustrates me, people are shown human interest stories and train schedules instead of the growing crisis in fukushima. they just don’t know, they just won’t believe it. even coming from me. there’s a kind of inertia i just can’t relate to, a lot of talking and nodding and sometimes crying, but no action. i must definitely not be japanese. feeling extremely powerless, and already devastated by what i’m pretty sure can’t be avoided.

Matane

tokyorose — Sat, 09 Jan 2010 17:31:09 +0000

to put it simply, the last three years have been hard, really. and i’m getting so ineloquent that i feel less and less like posting here. also i hate to be a whiner but lately the energy to write something upbeat to take my mind off things –always my tactic– escapes me. the new year has gotten off to a shaky start as well, what with my dad’s health and everything. so i’m taking a break from this place for a while. i’ll be back when i have something uplifting to write. meanwhile, whatever your beliefs or spiritual inclinations, if any of you get the chance to send some energy my dad’s way on tuesday for his operation, i’d appreciate it…

take care, peoples. and see you around, hopefully.

And It’s Definitely Winter…

tokyorose — Mon, 21 Dec 2009 09:15:16 +0000

-18C last night. Here’s a little something my nephew came up with:

Wardrobe, Hair and Make Up

tokyorose — Mon, 21 Dec 2009 08:55:50 +0000

Dress pants, a shirt and your purple sweater, she told my dad last night when he asked her what he should wear. And this morning at 6.30 when I walked into their bathroom, she asked to help her tie the belt on her sweater. Though a little later she came downstairs dressed in a different one. What to wear to go and have confirmed that it is cancer after all –three weeks of back and forth diagnosis– and that the kidney needs to be removed. Which, with my dad’s heart condition, is a really risky operation…

After they had left I went into their room and saw a black blazer with gold brooch lying folded on the bed. It seemed so infinitely human to me.

How Not To Fold Kimono

tokyorose — Tue, 08 Dec 2009 13:02:40 +0000

The bland, nondescript office across the road from my room turned out to be a kimono factory or something. Of course the kimono hanging on a stand in the corner should have been a giveaway, as should the posters with kimono clad women. But I thought it could be anything to do with the Kyoto tourist industry. Anyway, kimono…

I know because the other day some samples arrived, I guess for next season’s collection, and a bunch of people -men!- sat around the oval table discussing them. Afterwards one of the office workers -short, balding, glasses, sleeveless bottle green sweater over striped shirt and tie- was left to fold the samples and put them back into the box they came in. I had just made myself some morning tea and was standing in front of my window, contemplating some kind of plan for the day. And then suddenly I had entertainment:

The man was exceptionally clumsy and folding the four kimono took him something close to thirty minutes. He kept folding and refolding, aligning and realigning, huffing and puffing and shaking out the fabric to avoid creasing in all the wrong places…He was about to finish with kimono number two when he accidentally picked at the sleeve of the only one he had managed to fold so far. So close! Poor guy, he ran outside for an emergency cigarette at that point.

The kimono were gorgeous, by the way. Of the four I saw, I would have gladly taken two. For free, mind you, because I don’t even want to guess at their prices. They were classy stuff, nothing like the ones I own. One was turquoise with light yellow lining and white, yellow and dark purple flowers, and the other one a dark red with soft pink lining and white, light pink and lilac flowers (I was too far to see which flowers exactly, though I bet you’re not holding your breath). Haaaaa, I could just imagine wearing them -yes, I do from time to time, though without the under garments, tabi (white split-toe socks) and geta (wooden sandals). I team mine with boots and a t-shirt. Or would that be a sacrilege, for kimono as fine as those..?

In any case, I now know how to fold kimono.

And For DesSert, Some Sap

tokyorose — Tue, 17 Nov 2009 05:17:35 +0000

[and the clue that you've been spending too much time in Japan: when your English is flying out the window and you start to make mistakes like the desert-dessert one. Oh my...]

Sugary sweet, definitely. But when in Japan…
I heard these again recently and love them both:

Remember this one? Back To The Future is still a classic in these parts…

Haaa, what can you say..?

The End Of The World

tokyorose — Tue, 17 Nov 2009 04:59:40 +0000

I have to cross a big intersection on my way to the supermarket from this room, and yesterday there was a cop standing in the middle, directing traffic. Hmm, I thought as I approached. Another official at the crossing bowed deeply and apologetically and, with a bright smile plastered to his face, explained to everyone that there was a special convoy passing of some sort (he was quite vague about it) and we were asked to wait. We had to stand just so, not too close, but not too far so he could keep an eye on us. He ran back and forth, explaining and asking people to move an inch this way or that. The cop in the middle was running back and forth, visibly flustered, yelling at people on scooters to WAIT! instead of trying to make a quick dash for it. More officials standing in the flower pots, hanging onto the telephone pole to get a better look…

People adopted their vacant, public transport look –I wouldn’t have been surprised if any of them decided to grab a quick nap — but the whole scene was unbearably funny to me. The official standing close to me shot me a suspicious look, I guess grinning was also out of the question. Showing my emotions is definitely something that sets me apart here. I just can’t keep a straight face, never could…

The convoy passed soon after that, more cops on bikes and black cars with tinted windows filled with businessy types in suits, a police van and something that looked a lot like prisoners transportation…though I doubt that somehow. And then my favourite part: everyone seemed to know exactly when it was ok to start moving again, even before the cop blew his whistle. One moment we were all standing still, the next the world came to life again and we started to cross just before the crossing signal turned to green and the beep-beep-beep for the blind people could be heard. I don’t know how to put it exactly, but that was just so typically Japanese. So used to following rules and staying in line, or something, that it has become intuitive…

It probably doesn’t come across well in writing, but it struck me. I have less than a month to go here now, which is long or short depending on how you look at it. And I’ve spent enough time both to love this place again and to see its faults and difficulties, were I to live here full-time. It’s a strange place and quite a hard place to spend your life, unless you’re willing to be brain-washed. Even if you’re willing to be brain-washed. I’m reminded of Murakami Haruki’s ‘End of the world’: The older you get, the harder to let go of your shadow. It would probably be hard for me to fit into this mindset now, having spent most of my life abroad. But I love it here, really. And this autumn has been my best in a long time.

Heta Na Kawaii Ko

tokyorose — Tue, 17 Nov 2009 04:21:19 +0000

I am incredibly clumsy lately for whatever reason and, among my friends here, I’m steadily getting a reputation as a clutz. A cute clutz, they assure me, but a clutz nonetheless. I’m the one who trips over her own feet and takes half of the cosmetics display down with her in a convenience store, the one who opens the washer to find she left a tissue in a pocket, now ripped into a thousand pieces covering everything, the one who burns the food…Just now I flushed the toilet and the flush fell off, entirely on its own –honestly! (Luckily I managed to fix it with a pair of chopsticks, I was already wondering what to say to the estate agent).

I’m usually really elegant and handy, I keep protesting. To which they smile and say, you’re very cute…

De-Webbed

tokyorose — Fri, 30 Oct 2009 06:12:31 +0000

As much as the old PC in this room has been driving me nuts –I mean, PII, people!– I’m very aware of my soon to be PC-less state. I’m moving out on Sunday and though my new room is cooler, warmer, more central and modern, it doesn’t come with a PC. Internet, yes, just to twist the knife a little. And I was this close to bringing my web book but didn’t, because I already had so much to bring and there was a PC in my room anyway…you know how it is.

I’m going to miss being a webbed creature.

Ms. Nosey

tokyorose — Fri, 23 Oct 2009 04:01:17 +0000

Spending a lot of time at home, trying to write, naturally gives rise to all sorts of questions about the neighbours.

You’ve heard about Kanno san already, of course. But what about the family right across the road from me? Hip 40-something mum and two late-teens-to-early-twenties kids, that much is evident. And the other man who lives there, obviously no longer young but black hair still (dyed?), often seen dressed in tight jeans and bomber jacket, transportation means a foldable bike or small black Toyota and, not sure from where I’m looking but I think so, sporting an earring? Is he the father? The daughter’s hubbie? The mother’s toyboy..?

And what about the old man in the house next door, who shuffles into the garden at regular intervals to stand in one corner for a few minutes, looking down? Does he really pee in his own front yard, or is there another explanation? Does his wife know and, if so, what are her thoughts?

I could go on and on like this…