A higher level of tastlessness

Sadly, in Tokyo at least, the ghastly colour purple seems to be back in fashion; there seem to be an awful lot of girls wearing purple leggings, coats or tops. The worst, by far, are the plethora of purple puffer bomber jackets - the ones that were fashionable (in green) in the 1970s, the ones with fake fur rimmed hats. We've seen girls AND boys wearing these hideous creations, and it just goes to show that if you wait long enough, things do come back in fashion, or, indeed, that absolutely anything has a shot at becoming fashionable.
One thing that remains unsold, however, which shows the kind of sensible taste that Tokyo-ites are really not famous for, is what appears to be a part of a tree, sliced in half and decorated with purple fake diamonds. It looks like it probably weighs in at around 10-15 kilos, which might be another reason why it hasn't shifted. And also, the price might be an issue, which at 55,000 yen (£400/$600+) seems rather cheeky. I mean, in a time of financial crisis not seen since the 1930s, who really needs a diamond encrusted tree trunk cluttering up the place? I must photograph it when I get the chance as it has to be seen to be truly believed.

I've not been feeling myself...

But I have been feeling others. Quite by accident, I promise. Tonight, I was one of the last to get onto a very crowded train home across Tokyo. A plump, greying Japanese salaryman got on after me and as he did so he swivelled his body round to find a bit of space, which meant his, um, bottom, brushed against my hand. He then - a bit cheeky this - looked up (he was short) at me briefly yet accusingly. I wished at that moment that I knew the Japanese for "I don't think so, chubby!" but all I could do was looked puzzled yet mildly disdainful.

I have done this before - but hey, it's a crowded city and one is apt on occasion to brush up against people, appalling as it may sound, and indeed is - one time, I was on a crowded escalator. Usually, I stand two steps below the person above so no touching is likely. But, it was rush hour and people were crowding in and pushing and so I moved up a step and - horror of horrors - my arm touched the woman standing above me. I froze in fear, imagining being carted off by the police and deported before the day was out, but it seems that common sense prevailed as she was either uncaring or accepting of the fact that, rotund and in her 50s, she had understood that she wasn't going to be on the end of many salacious gropings, and so she left it at that.

It goes without saying that I've been washing my hands a lot recently.

Japan: It's enough to drive a man insane

Coming back from a business trip to Nagoya recently, I pulled out my Mac to do a bit of work. The Shinkansen was quite crowded though it was, as ever, quiet as a mouse as people got on with reading their papers, eating their bentos or snoozing. Then I realised that every 30 seconds or so there was this short, slightly mechanical squawk then silence again. I looked round and noticed nothing, including no other person who seemed to be annoyed or aware of the noise. After ten more squawks I had pinned it down to a schoolgirl - one row back on the other side of the train - who was using her mobile phone to take pictures of herself - endlessly. There she was, grinning, grimacing and pouting into the phone and hitting the squawk button before frowning at the result. My patience was wearing thin as I could do little work under conditions such as these, but she thankfully got up and went walkabout. Ten minutes later she was back, then another noise - more like a screech than a squawk was emanating from her. It appeared that she was now deleting most of the hundreds of photos she'd taken of herself earlier, with the same grimace, the same pout. She got off the train in Shinagawa, one stop before Tokyo station, oblivious of my seething rage, and my bewilderment at how nobody else seemed at all irritated at the noise she'd been making, nor worried that a 15-year-old could be so totally and utterly self obsessed. As she walked off, I pictured her falling down the long staircase, phone up to her face, oblivious of the ground rushing toward her.

Car blog

In Japan, many of the Japanese-built cars have western names. Take, for example, the amusingly named Nissan Fuga. It's a family sized saloon of the Ford Mondeo variety. Apparently they're going to make a thinner version of the car and call it the Sleek Fuga. They are also going to develop a small version called the Little Fuga, and then a small, sporty version for off-road driving - it's going to be called the Dirty Little Fuga.

Just teasing, obviously.

A short political aside

Seeing as the world financial system - and the rest of us with it - appear to be heading towards the kind of depression last seen in the 1920s, I must say I was delighted (no, I was fucking ecstatic, actually) to see that the USA had elected the smart guy instead of the temperamental one with his demented god-loving sidekick. Most newspapers harked on about it being historic that America had voted for the first black president, which is of course an amazing, ground-breaking achievement. Even better though is that we can now look towards America without feeling dread and embarrassment at their present president's evil, criminal ways. THAT is what I most look forward to, for there is nothing like having a wise chap in charge of proceedings. Especially now.

What's that ... stuck to your ...?

Anyway, I exited the supermarket, having stopped off for food and smoothie in the munch-while-you-wait area and got on the train to cross town to my office. On the train quite a few people looked at me in the usual 'what are YOU doing here?' kind of oh-so-pleasant Japanese way. One girl couldn't look me in the eye but was transfixed by the side of my face. I turned away in disgust and got on with my book. I got off the train, passing millions of other commuters, went along the street, got a coffee at my regular cafe from the more-smiley-than-usual servers and walked the last 300 meters to my office. Once inside, I turned on my PC and went to the toilet when I discovered that, stuck to my beard, was a large piece of quiche.

Supermarket Sweep

After morning meetings on Tuesdays and Fridays, I usually head back to the station, dropping in at the upmarket Queen's Isetan supermarket in the north east of Tokyo. I go there as it's dead quiet after opening at 10 a.m. and it's also got the most delicious, healthy food going. Usually there are around 10 people shopping in the whole store, which is spread out over about 500 square meters. Only this Tuesday it was packed to the rafters with ladies of all shapes, sizes and ages - queues 6 deep at every cash till. The reason: it was 5% discount day - Japanese, like Czechs, like many others, would cross town across broken glass, pass wild beasts escaped from the zoo and major earthquakes... to save a few hundred yen. Weird but true.

What I saw, what I didn't

I saw.... a dwarf on a motorbike. At least I think it was a dwarf. Or the vertically challenged, as they cruelly say these days. It - the wee person - was riding one of those huge ugly chariot type bikes that are sadly so prevalent in Tokyo. I complain because the bastards are so noisy, and are seemingly designed for people who don't know how to ride a real motorbike and are just a bit desperate to impress. But anyway, this particular rider - I think it was a lady - could hardly reach the handlebars and I felt like asking her if she was old enough to go chariot racing.

I saw ..... a group of people worshipping a tree in our local park. It was a dull looking tree - not a mighty oak or something of that nature. The people had hymn books out and were doing some droning and chanting. Some of them were young and normal looking - which made me wonder why they'd chosen to waste their morning singing to a tree - not that I have anything against trees. Apparently in some buddhist sects this is not THAT out of place. I've taken to avoiding that part of the park all the same as I have a life-long aversion to lunacy in all its forms.

I saw..... a little dog that looked like a piece of shredded wheat. He looks like a cross between a mutt and a corgi. He's an adorable thing and he makes my day when I bump into him on the way to work when he's out with his owners trotting along without a care in the world. If I were any better at the Internet I'd post his photo, which the owners gladly allowed me to take.

What I didn't see .... was sputum in the swimming pool. I eventually gave in and returned to my twice-weekly swim. It was sputum free, thankfully. Perhaps Mr. Snotface is on holiday.

It's not all doom and gloom

Sometimes the news is so bad it makes you want to cry. Today was different: In Japan, a man who apparently was already married, tried to burn down the hotel where he was getting married the day after to someone completely different. Late night nerves or a guilty conscience? Or silly fucker.

http://www.japantoday.com/category/crime/view/married-man-arrested-for-torching-hotel-before-bogus-wedding-in-yamanashi

And in France, a man was led away from a TGV train with his arm still attached to a powerful suction toilet. Although my first reaction was to shout "Pervert!" he'd apparently dropped his mobile phone down there and was trying to retrieve it when the toilet took offence and tried to suck him in. Terrifying - and embarrassing. Imagine being known for that the rest of your days....

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/7693386.stm

Not quite a yeti then...

Being in Japan always means that I am drawn towards BBC or Guardian news stories involving this area. And so, apparently there's a group of Japanese climbers and yeti hunters up in a mountain in Nepal claiming to have found a footprint of a yeti. Rewind slightly - from the Guardian:

'There appears a global trading industry in sightings of the abominable snowman. Most turn out to be false. In July Yeti hairs were supposedly found in north east India. Upon testing they turned out to belong to a species of Himalayan goat. In August, two men in the US claimed they had found the remains of a half-man-half-ape Bigfoot, which actually turned out to be a rubber gorilla suit.'

I couldn't make up something as funny. Continuing the report:

'An eight-member team claimed the footprints of the snowman or Yeti were about 20 centimetres long and were human in appearance.'

Human in appearance? Could you not put 2 and 2, or even 1 and 1, together and come to the astonishing yet mundane conclusion that they were in fact footprints of a large-footed bloke who took his boots off to have a walk in the snow? Of course not. Doh!

Not a laughing fecal matter

Speaking as your regular obsessive-compulsive... I am, admittedly, a persistent hand washer. On average, maybe 30 times a day - before/after food, after a pee/poo, right after any bloody time I travel on the train/bus, after someone shakes my hand etc. Anything sticky on any part of my hand (orange juice is the most horrifying) is usually met with a demented squawk and a rush to the bathroom. Yes, yes, I know it's pathetic, but washing hands after coming in contact with others - crucially before scratching your nose/eyes - I find is also a good way of cutting down on colds. Anyway, it still comes as a shock to hear that in a study of people swabbed in public places around the UK, that so many people have - and I cringe even when saying this - 'fecal* matter' on their hands - as high as 53% in Newcastle (you complete mingers!).

However, living in Japan, it doesn't really surprise me as a reluctant observer of many men who exit toilets without washing their hands. It's an astonishingly revolting habit but I have a theory: Japanese men, after having farted, groaned and plopped their way through a noisy dump, have no intention of standing around washing their hands whilst everyone else can get a good look at the guilty groaner. That's the reason why they exit the cubicle and head straight outside to their wife, family, friends, etc to pass on their fecal matter. Another theory is that they're simply dirty fucking pigs is also one I haven't entirely discounted.

To be read with rubber gloves:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/health/7667499.stm

*Fecal can also be spelt faecal, obviously.

Trees, those useless trees

Whilst going to our local Thai place for lunch, we stopped and gasped as we watched council workers hacking down perfectly beautiful trees that were still weeks away from their autumnal shedding of leaves. A few weeks back, on going to a company in downtown Tokyo, I was staggered to find a whole 100 meters of beautiful hedge had been decimated and all that was left was their stumps, and behind them - what had previously, gloriously, been hidden - a grotesque, miserable office block. Presumably a few people had complained that the hedge was encroaching on the pathway - well, millimeters of it perhaps were. On any day around now, if you go out early enough, you'll see elderly Japanese frantically sweeping up the few fallen leaves from outside their homes, as if they are some kind of plague.
Back in London, I read that in the dismal area of Croydon alone, some 7,600 trees have been pulled down in the last 12 months alone. The number one reason? Building subsidence. My number one answer? How about building your fucking house further away from the trees?
I wonder too, perhaps even more importantly, about where humans of the future intend to get their clean air from. Perhaps they imagine it'll come from a bottle.

Shocking headline

'Further rain hits Scotland' - I had to do a double take just to make sure it was what it was. It has a bit of the 'Bear Shits in Woods' or 'Republicans are crooks' kind of state the bleedin' obviousness about it.

It goes without saying, Nozomu

Nozomu was a middle-aged, slightly seedy Japanese guy who used to come to an intensive class a few years back when I worked at a private language school here in Tokyo. I won't say its name but it started with an S and rhymes with pain, which is a good description of a lot of my time there.

Anyway, I sometimes would get students to write about what they did at the weekend, then I'd correct it for them at break time. I glanced over Nozomu's shoulder to take a look at what he'd written - he wrote about going shopping, watching TV, and, somewhat implausibly considering his general demeanor, that he'd taken up going to the gym. His last line is etched in my memory:

'And it goes without saying that I exercised spunkily'

Nozomo, I said, have you been using the dictionary again...?

Schiesse!

Holding on to that spam mail theme for a minute, I get an awful lot from viagra - I suspect girlfriend involvement.... but I also got a German one asking me:

Ficken sie ein weltmeister?

Which I think translates as: "Do you fuck like a champion?"

To which I have to answer: Yes! Twice nightly and matinees on Sundays.

I didn't know shagging was an Olympic sport.

OOOHH SEXY!

Occasionally I check my gmail spam as I put things up for sale online and things go in there sometimes by mistake. Here's one that still makes me guffaw hours later (and bear in mind that I didn't open the email but read only the title and subject):

From: Flora Skinner
Subject: Really cool photos! Good morning dear friend, watch my tits! Best regards.

And best regards to you too, Flora, but sorry, I didn't bother checking out your tits... or maybe I've got Flora all wrong and she's an ornithologist...

Swimming amongst the sputum

I was in the local swimming baths for my twice-weekly 45 minutes of leisurely breast-stroke. As I neared the far end I saw this gathering of gunk floating on the surface. At first, I dismissed it as a simple gathering of bubbles but as I got nearer, I realised it was in fact what must have a been a thorough clearing of someones's throat or nose - or perhaps both. It looked a little bit like the white version of all that seaweed that is taking over the Aegean sea.

I steered round it and ploughed on but my heart was no longer in it and I got out shortly after. It seems that the Japanese behave kindly and respectfully to their fellow humans in most situations, apart from when they're stealing bikes and umbrellas or not washing their hands in public lavatories. Added to this should now be creating oil-slick sized lakes of sputum in public baths. I haven't been back since.

The mod is coming

I've been in Tokyo 5 years and tonight I think I spotted my first Mod, on a scooter. At first I thought it was a Christmas tree coming down the road, then I realised it was in fact a wildly overdressed Lambretta with about 25 headlights. I looked at its rider - a paunchy 30 something who ought to know better - and shook my head theatrically from side to side and mouthed "you've got to be fucking kidding" - spiteful, I know, but people have gotta learn, right?