A Spoon of Sushi

Sakura: THe japanese cherry, particularly Cherry Blossoms.

Its one of the "things" in japan. You have Katanas and Kimonos, Sushi and Sumo... and Sakura. Everyone knows the Japanese love them. Girls are named after them, the sky is filled with them at the hint of something romantic in any anime worth its salt. Until you really see the things, you'd wonder what the hullabaloo was all about. I've waited patiently and can now say I see the attraction.

The japanese cherry tree has a near black wood while cherry blossoms are the palest pink. The contrast when in full bloom is beautificatiously pretty, the perfume equally Scentifiglarious. Turns out I've been walking past a dozen of the things on the way to work all winter. All of a sudden one day they were in full bloom and the pavement was carpeted with tiny pink petals. One tree alone is a masterpiece, and I can't wait to see a cluster in a park this weekend.

Trouble is, it rained last weekend, and already the blooms are fading. I didn't realise they lasted so little time... I really really hope I don't miss my chance here.

Sakura are fully in bloom at the first hint of spring, before the first leaf has a chance to unfold, Therefore the cherry tree, after its long winter fast, considers sex to be a higher priority than simple self preservation.

There nothing I can add to make that funnier

Cherry trees admired: 8

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A new Starbucks has opened near the office. I'm sat here having what must be the best coffee break ever.

I was about to head home for the evening. I'm now sat on Starbucks' porch with a chocolate chip scone and a highly delectable Green Tea Milkshake. It's raining heavily.

I've always loved rainy afternoons, 'specially when I get to sit and watch other people in them. The café is right next to the Train station and I'm watching the hoards ascend and descend the escalators. Each person who passes me is accompanied by the flufllfl of a closing, or the thwoup of an opening umbrella.

Spanish music is playing from a speaker above me to a backbeat of rain on the canopy. Office lights and storefronts are reflected and shattered in the puddles. It's like a musical number: The umbrella tango! Now starring the businessman whose stately black umbrolly just inverted! Now the old lady struggling through the wrong side of the crowd with an oversized tartan bell brolly! Now the Marvellous performance of the synchronised schoolgirl team with their identical hello Kitty waterproofers! Watch them fumble, watch them shake! Watch them splash each other in the unexpectedly deep puddle! Roll up! Roll up! Something here for everybody! Hurry the grand performance of Man with Mobile Phone, Umbrella, Briefcase and Cappuccino But Only Two Hands is about to start!

Conglomerate it may be, but I think Starbucks has easily earned its right to exist.

Exclamation marks used: 9

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There is a certain graphics library, I believe used by Namco, which is known as a Ninja. Its quite widely used it seems.

Thus, there are ninjas in a lot more games than you would think... They're stealthy them ninjas

Hours spent programming Tetris: too many

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Therefs only one thing left to talk about really; Shopping! I like shopping, but I do it the guys way, which means I don't buy anything.

Japan is a very tourist friendly country. Literally, believe it or not, with the tourists getting better deals on things than the locals. Not trusting the tourist handicrafts center ( A shop of hand crafted things made for tourists, not by them ) to give me a fair price, I wandered the city on foot looking for better deals. I found none at all. Now whatfs going on there?

As much as the very pretty kimonos, calligraphy, tea sets, dolls and other assorted stereotypical goodies tempted me, I refrained from emptying my pockets just yet. I've sworn I will at some stage though. I'm going to need a Japanese tea set and kimono to wear for my pretentious tea parties. More importantly, I need to get a New Sword! Any suggestions on other cool things to bring back will be greatly appreciated.

Swords, predictably, were what I spent the most time looking at. I saw some highly pretty, yet highly fake weaponry at the craft center. Thatfs to be expected: Therefs some serious legal restrictions on katanas. You need a license to buy the things, but you also need a license to make them. In an effort to preserve the quality of this ancient art, craftsman are limited to making something like one sword per month. Obviously, this has lead to some very careful definitions of what constitutes a real sword, and prices in the region of a million yen per blade.

I was faced a moral dilemma here: I don't want to be the typical dumb tourist and buy a cheap fake sword, but I also don't want to spend a fortune acquiring the licenses etc for the real deal Especially when Plus I'm going to be living with larpers and people like John the Hobbit next year. Either they'd find it and accidentally commit seppuku, or I'd cut them down honorably for not doing the washing up... Hmm...

Still, I couldn't leave without at least drooling on a real katana. A few enquires got a little "x" marked on my map for me. Kyoto, while being a fangoriously large city, is bloody easy to navigate. Following the Chinese principles of Feng Shui, every street faces either north-south, or east-west. Plus, therefre being plenty of temples and things to get your bearings by. Itfs a pity I didn't notice the scale though. What I though would be a twenty minute walk actually took a couple of hours...

When I found the sword shop, it was like something out of a fairytale; this tiny little store in the corner of a side alley run by a very old woman. Itfs the sort of place you'd only find if you knew what youfre looking for. Not the place for window browsers. Out of respect, I smartened myself up before entering, removing excess jewelry and tying my hair back. Ok, "smartened" is inappropriate. "Descruffened" is better, plus it adds another word to the Tony Dictionary.

Where was I? Ah! I could tell immediately that these swords were genuine, because there was hardly one on display... Instead, most everything locked inside the display cases was just a bare-naked blade. It makes sense really. Compared to that steel edge that makes razors give up and go back to the farm, hilt, pommel and scabbard are little more than a cursory nod to ergonomics. Looking at these vicious slivers of metal side on, the edge narrows down to the invisible. There is no way a know-nothing foreigner should be privileged enough to own one of these. I should count myself lucky if I'm killed by one.

I didn't stay long. I felt embarrassed to be there. Maybe one day when I'm a fully trained ninja I'll come back for my sword. Until then, I might settle for the 150 pound practice blade. Its blunt, but its pretty and balanced, so maybe thatfs a good compromise. What do you reckon?

Swords drooled on: 0 (they were sensibly locked in drool proof cases)

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Japan has a history. It involves divine emperors, samurai shoguns, serene Buddhist monks and magical badger's testicles. Over the centuries, power has shifted between these forces, and obviously if you're in charge, you've got to spend the cash to let people know it. So far I'd visited Shinto Shrines, and Buddhist temples, but today I got to see what the Emperor and Shogun had to offer.

The Shogun is an all right sort. His hobbies included amassing armies of samurai, establishing heirs among his mistresses (and wife), entertaining untrustworthy ambassadors, and unifying Japan. It was a thankless job however. In fact, it could more accurately be described as a try-to-kill-you-on-a-daily-basis job. Caution and security were a must.

The palace grounds are surrounded by a wall, a moat, then another wall. The palace itself has secret doors behind which guards are forever stationed, ready to charge out like extras in a kung fu movie at the slightest alarm. Visiting ambassadors are not only strip searched for weapons, but when meeting the shogun are forced to wear the oriental equivalent of a clown's baggy trousers and shoes, so that if one should run at the shogun with a hairpin or something, he'd be fighting his own clothing along with the army of guards.

Most impressive of all are the floorboards; through means of carefully places nails, half a tiptoe on one will make it emit a high pitched squeak. When a flock of tourists traverse them, they live up to the name of "nightingale floorboards". We squeaked our way around for a good hour admiring the simple, furniture free rooms and their extravagant murals of cranes, cherry blossoms and lotuses.

You may already know my opinions of tourists, or be able to garner them from the subtle hints I leave between the lines of my writing. Heres one: THEYRE KNOW NOTHING ARSEHOLES!

Well... mostly

Ok, not really, but the ones today got my sheep: On arriving at the Shogun's palace, we were asked to take our shoes off as you would anywhere in Japan, and use the slippers provided. Everyone did. On leaving however, because they weren't told to, they re-donned their shoes ON the shoguns floor with complete disregard for the earlier instruction, wandering around like lost cows looking for somewhere to put their slippers (the huge bin marked "slippers" perhaps!). One person I could understand, but half the group did it! Totally disrespectful and, to my japanified eyes, vulgar.

The Emperors Crib was huuuuuge. Unfortunately, it was also suffering from security, and we were only allowed to see some of the courtyards. They were very nice courtyards though, with lots of pretty curly oriental walls around them, and very crunchy gravel. It might even have been oriental gravel.

Nightingales harmed in the making of those floorboards: 0

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Kyoto is well known for its shrines and temples. It does, after all, have a couple of thousand of the things squirreled away, ranging from the roadside shrine to the secluded, highly private monastery where monks are trained in ultra deadly yet graceful martial arts. Well, I didnft see any crouching tigers, but I did get to visit one of the most exquisite public temples, albeit briefly.

Youfve got to hand it to the landscapers. In the middle of the 7th most populated city in the world, they have managed to build a site that maintains a perfect serenity. I wandered along winding paths through a forest of bamboo. Here and there opening out into clearings containing small lakes, mini-temples and similar. I know therefs a city and a gazillion tourists all around me, but the sound of waterfalls, rustle of the bamboo and general aura of the place just washed it all away. It was just me and the temple. I could have stayed there all day.

The highlight is a magnificent structure; a three tier temple covered entirely in gold! It reclines on its island in the middle of a tranquil green lake, complete with terracotta red bridge and oriental rocks. Ifm not sure how you make a rock look oriental, but it seems someone can. It was a sunny day, and the light set the gold ablaze; so bright you couldnft look directly at it.

Wandering further through the bamboo I stumbled across something even better: a small, traditional Japanese tea garden! I had five minutes to get back to the bloody tour bus, but how could I resist? I sat down on a red plinth and was served by an old lady in traditional kimono. She gave me a very, very tiny sugar cake and a china cup of what looked like pond scum. It sort of tasted like it too, but I was being serene so I damn well enjoyed it, nibbling delicately at the cake and sipping the tea with utmost serenity (read: pretentiousness).

When I get back, you are all welcome to join me for pretentious tea drinking parties.

The Laura version of todayfs entry:I went to a see a shiny temple, then I had tea and cake.

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Wow... The journey so far has been... exotic. Hakone is also known as ghellh; bare rock in the high mountains, half covered with snow. Vents in the rock spew out stinking yellow clouds of sulphur constantly. I got to view this horrendous scene from a couple of miles up, suspended in a glass cable car. In case you don't know, sulphur smells of rotten eggs. Yup, after my elation at the fresh air of yesterday, I was right back in the city again. The Alley behind Hayashi's Noodle Bar to be precise.

A vicious winter wind spreads the stink throughout the whole region. The nights stay was in a secluded, expensive hotel with its own sulphur spring in which the customers were free to bathe.

Next day, we took bullet train again. Japanese train tunnels are filled with Shinto, teleportation magic: We would exit one tunnel into a snow filled wonderland, exit the next into a rainstorm, and exit the next into a sunny spring day. It was raining in Kyoto when we arrived. I checked to make sure we hadn't disembarked in the feudal era, but we'd merely warped forward in time by four hours.

Hardly given enough time to deposit our suitcases, we were ensnared by a tour rep, dragged through the station, and slung onto a tour bus to begin that standard tourist activity; looking at temples, palaces, and shrines.

First was a Buddhist temple. Here, the largest statue of Buddha in the world that doesn't include the site of the bigger one is, is housed. You all know what Buddha looks like. Imagine that only bigger, blacker, with one arm outstretched beckoning. Somehow it put me in mind of a very big, very Zen morpheus.

We then visited the neighbouring Shinto shrine. Coming from a Christian culture, where there is one, and only one true religion, its hard to wrap my head around how Buddhism and Shinto don't mind each other, and by that I mean they honestly don't mind each other, not that they try not to talk about each other to stop open warfare and avoid each other at parties.

I would liken Shinto to original English Paganism; something that, from an outsiders perspective, grew from a curious gumbo of folklore, stories and traditions that somehow amalgamated into an untidy blob of a religion under one name. It's at these religious sites that you will find the traditional red gates and curiously folded paper. While wandering among the several thousand stone lanterns of this shrine, it began to snow heavily, flakes winding between, lantern, gate and tree... beautiful! Cold, but still beautiful.

Both the temple and the shrine were overrun by deer and tourists. One of these groups was gorgeously cute, and would assault the other if they thought there was a meal in it for them. The other seemed to wander around aimlessly with a gormless look on its face, but are encouraged by the government. I'll leave you to guess which is which.

Charms against elevators purchased: 1

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I am sat on a coach testing whether my laptop lives up to its name. Until five minutes ago, I could see Mount Fuji, but its an introspective mountain and now has its head in the clouds.

My own, equally huge detachment from reality stopped me equating winter with snow: it's a real wonderland here at the moment, all the more for it being as unexpected as Paul Danials heading a Paganic midsummer ritual.

Trees, snow, near vertical slopes... Itfs the standard stuff you would expect when going to the 'countryside'. After the months I've spent cooped up in Tokyo, whose average occupant would probably scream and call the police on sighting any of the former, its heaven. Wefve been travelling in, around, and through mountains covered in the greeny brown fluff that is leafless deciduous and pointy evergreen trees viewed from a distance. We took a catamaran across the lake earlier. From this vantage point I was given some precious perspective; Miles and miles of untouched forest into which Civilisation hasn't made a dent. Its a refreshing sight that put my inner greenpeace protestor at ease.

Fuji peeks worridly over the top of these hills; the gentlest looking volcano I've ever seen. Its foothills stretch for half a horizon, angling at a degree hardly worthy of the title "up", let alone "mountain". Somewhere along the line "height" must be involved though, because the top is covered in a ragged blanket of snow, making the scene look like some form of huge geographical dessert. On this warm day, the snow is evaporating into a slow wispy cloud. The peak is obscured by it, but this newborn baby cloud is an excellent surrogate sight. If I ever have kids, and they ask me where clouds come from, I shall proudly inform them that "Fuji-san makes them!"

I'll have to visit the nimbus factory proper one day, for today I could only be content with the fifteen minute photo stop on the lowest foothills. I let the real tourists induce epillepsy and went for a wander in the woods. After months cooped up in the city, after months trying to keep my face out of people's armpits on the subway, I was in a state of euphoria, sucking in every breath of fresh air I could lay my metaphorical hands on. Fifteen minutes isn't really enough time to get lost in the woods, but I had a good go.

Now onto Hakone...

Conversations about english colonialism: 1

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I just saw a lady walking down the street dressed in traditional japanese kimono, and listening to a Sony Walkman. Juxtaposition is the word, I believe, or some similar oojamaflip.

Seeing this elaborate dressing gown and ribbon combinations isn't rare. Seems that if its a decent friday night out, the girls dress up in their kimonos. I've seen the odd gentleman on the commuter tube with kimono, block sandals and briefcase, and of course every other elderly lady wouldn't dream of wearing anything but. Personally I love the things; alternative, elegant, publicly acceptable, comfortable. I'm tempted to buy one but for the huge Japanese-wannabe fator.

Its one of the things I like about Japan. You wouldn't catch someone in Bath wandering around in a toga... except you do... but I'd never expect to see one of my friends in plate armour or 17th century regalia... except... god dammit I had a point I swear!

The other thing going on here, I think, is that japan's Olde Worlde is so recent. It took me a while to get my head arund it, but a mere fifty years ago the main form of transport in "neon" Tokyo was the horse, the military consisted of samurai and archers and if a nihon-jin encountered a telephone he would probably scream and throw small paper dolls at it. The british past is long dead, our knights, kings, dragons and whatnot nothing more than fossils in a museam, but living people here still remember the stuff Japanese kids (and larpers) read stories about.

Am I the only one who finds this fascinating?

Appropriate uses of the word "oojamaflip": 5

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Oojamaflip is a very cool word. I shall endeavor to use it more often. No, its not japanese.

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