Category: Exploits

From the Brink of Despair…

I just scared myself real good.
I thought I’d lost my wallet.
The thing is, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen it, and I hadn’t used it for a couple of days. My heart sunk further and further as each place I searched turned up empty… I was really fucked becuase my wallet contains really everything I need to survive in modern society. Driver’s license, gaijin card, bank card, postal savings card, credit card, health insurance card, hospital card, dental clinic card, latest bank statement, a million membership cards, business cards, a few vital phone numbers jotted down on a waxy napkin, pictures of my wife and family, spare key for my car, a ball of pocket lint, my company’s pocket calendar, and a partridge in a 20th century pear tree.
To apply for replacements of all that shit would have taken longer than I have in Japan, starting with the driver’s license and gaijin card in order to be able to prove my identity at the bank, since all the cash I have on hand is the kind that jingles, in my piggy bank (actually the cardboard tube my primo bottle of Cazadores came in). I was in a sweat looking for that goddamn thing, believe me. And then I called Nam, because that’s who I always depend on when I lose shit – wallet, keys, keitai, my glasses (that’s the funniest one cuz I cant see SHIT w/o my specs). Of course, she wasn’t answering her cell in Thailand, which made me despair even more.
Anyway, after a whole hour of searching, I finally was about to give up and go file a report at the police station, and then I spotted a familiar shape underneath a car rag that I had moved today when sorting out shit in preparation for my big move to Thailand. At once, my heart jumped and I threw the evil rag aside to reveal my dear, dear wallet. Oh how I love you. I am so happy now.
Funny how things can turn in an instant. Sometimes life is sweet:

Biwako Hot Dog (??????????)

This is a foodblogging post I have put off for a year and a half. The photos were waiting patiently to be edited on my desktop for all that time, and I continually ignored their pleas of “Post me! Post me!” So it is finally time for the story to be told:
A short time before encountering the Biwako Hot Dog, I wrote a post detailing the history of the Japanese fish sausage (which has turned into sort of a resource center for aspiring fish sausage makers worldwide – go read the comments!). So it was a happy coincidence that found us cruising the mountains around Lake Biwa, because the snowboarding trip we planned had been rained out. It was an absolutely miserable day, weather-wise. And the photos of death and decay on that link convey the mood we were in quite well.
The day was saved, however, by the appearance of a black and yellow kei (ultra compact 660cc class) van on the side of the road:



(click any of the images above to open a larger version)
The menu hanging off the back door of the van says:
Hot Dogs
w/wiener: 350 (yen)
w/hamburger patty: 350
w/ham: 350
Coffee: 100
Cola: 100
The photocopied papers stuck to the side windows were pretty crazy, stuff about how women are the bane of mankind and how God hates them (but men must respect them) and whatnot… The message was basically that the owner had had a hard life and gone completely batshit – we were intrigued.
The owner, an old fellow, was snoring when we walked up – classic! – and had apparently fallen asleep in the middle of preparations. He woke suddenly as we called to him and carried on with his actions exactly where he had left off, as if nothing had happened. We felt bad for waking him, and ordered three of each kind of dog. He was cool and gave us a couple extra – not many customers that day because of the crappy weather, I think.
The traditional Japanese hot dog is a hot dog purist’s worst nightmare. Even discounting the type with a hamburger patty or a slice of ham, the wiener type is sacrilege mainly because it employs fish sausage (examples here and here). Because of the use of this quite-inferior sausage, the entire experience is ruined for approximately 100% (+/-.001%) of westerners. (This is especially ironic because of the word ?? (“European style”) written on the passenger door of the van.) However, many Japanese profess to love this taste because it brings back memories of school lunches… Hey, to each his own – I sometimes yearn for the days of sloppy joes and tater tots, too.
Behold the traditional Japanese hot dog in its full glory:
biwako-hotdog-4.jpg
What sets the real thing apart from all fish-dog wannabes is the curried cabbage shreds (prepared in the RINNAI oven seen in the photo third from the top), as well as the karashi (hot mustard) infused sauce slathered all over the top. Since the fish sausage has so little flavor (and actually the hamburger patty and “ham” were ALSO fish-based processed meat), the main flavor comes from the karashi, the cabbage, and the white bread bun. In a word: blah. However, if you ever have a chance to try this food item, it will give you a chance to taste the cafeteria youth of your Japanese friends, and in this regard, it has true cultural value (and at least it tastes better than okara, another contender for this honor)

Three days – a lifetime

  • Visited some cousins from the states I haven’t seen in years
  • Went out drinking with friends for the first time in months
  • Had some damn good yakitori, too (mmm, namagimo)
  • In the wee hours of the morning, rode three people on a motor scooter blasted out of our minds
  • Also, shit our pants when another scooter passed us with a cop car chasing him yelling, “STOP! We saw your face! You might as well stop!” over the bullhorn (Note to aspiring donut-nemeses: This tactic doesn’t seem to work so well as you might expect; you must put forth the effort to lie convincingly to escaping criminals)
  • Met up with the younger brother of a good friend from France who I hadn’t seen for a few years and fulfilled a promise I made to him long ago
  • Stayed out til dawn, and, upon exiting the bar, cursed God for inventing the sun, and specifically, direct sunlight in my eyes
  • Watched someone wake up not knowing where he was (this was hilarious because it happens to us all at some point in life, doesn’t it? Or if you can’t relate to that, maybe it just happens to good people.)
  • Extracted belongings on behalf of someone important to me from his ex-girlfriend
  • Managed to refrain from spitting in contempt at said party, although it was a close thing
  • Arranged a plan for safe return of abovementioned belongings – at minimum additional cost
  • Attended live house/instumental jam at new club in Osaka where a couple friends performed
  • Reaffirmed my sincere hatred for second-rate house DJs
  • Discovered they are selling Sasebo Burgers at select Family Mart convenience stores (quite pricey at 380 yen; tasty but not worth it)
  • Discovered the existence of a huge online Japanese society of sex doll-photographing perverts/shut-ins/true otakuzoku
  • Returned to my alma mater to convey an interest in student exchange on behalf of my wife’s university in Thailand
  • My attempt was belittled by someone I respect, but I have learned to bear these things with humility, y’all (and more importantly, the attempt itself will be remembered, which was my ultimate goal – I sacrificed the chicken to win the donkey, bitch!)
  • And yes, the above use of “bitch” is an honorific and purely figurative
  • A friend and and I visited the grave of our beloved demon dog, Sonic
  • True story – one time in the past when we visited Sonic’s grave, there was a whole, bloody pigeon’s wing right on top of it
  • There was not one today
  • But I got several mosquito bites behind the library, where I once had to take a crap during my sophomore year because I couldn’t make it to a toilet on time
  • True story – a friend who saw it named that crap Red Indian, for reasons I prefer not to disclose as it lacks class, which is what my tens of readers expect when they come here
  • The crap wasn’t there anymore
  • Saw a cute girl in short yellow shorts walking a huge dog with ENORMOUS balls that swayed in unison to the girl’s hips as they walked down the street together
  • The enormous balls were more disturbing than the girl was cute, so I implore all cuties of the world to choose their pets wisely, or at least neuter them
  • After that, I had several hours to kill, so I hooked up with a good pal in Nara, and we shared a pizza and saw half of a B-movie at his crib
  • Remember the cousins I spoke of in the first bulleted point of this entry? I met all their kids today – 7 in total, plus more cousins and and an aunt from L.A. to boot
  • It would make me feel bad to say why, but the whole three day affair ended on a sour note, and on the way home, I broke a land speed record fueled on pure rage

Admitting Change

I backed down from a fight in the parking lot this morning.
The funny thing is, I would have been completely morally justified in beating the shit out of this guy. He almost caused two school kids to get run over, and took displeasure in me calling him on it – and so he waited for me at the entrance of the parking lot, where he knew I had to walk to get to work.
He was talking tough and really trying to provoke a response. When that didn’t work and I walked right by him, he grabbed my jacket sleeve and tugged me back. And on top of it all, he was making a big show of half-pulling some kind of weapon from his jacket pocket – the classic mark of someone who is definitely not serious about using it. So yes, I was justified. I came pretty goddamn close to throwing an elbow at his throat; he was right up in my face with both hands occupied – one holding my lapel and the other in his pocket.
And yet, I let it slide. I backed down. We exchanged some harsh words, but the fact is, I consciously backed down. This is the second time I’ve been in a situation like this in two years, and the second time I’ve backed down.
It is not easy for me to back down. It really rubs me the wrong way; if this time is anything like last time, I won’t be able to sleep tonight because there was no release. Those feelings are like a poison inside me. They gnaw at my guts and make me tremble. And I knew it would end up like this, and I still chose to back down.
The thing is, Never Backing Down was a way of life for me for the longest time. It was an ideal way of life when I felt I had nothing to lose – so simple, so samurai. The thing is, though, even samurai realized they were fucked if they ever tried to live the warrior life only part of the time. In the book of Hidden Leaves, it states that a warrior must accept death on a daily basis. He must be ready to die at any time, and only then can he overcone his enemies. It basically said, you can be either a warrior, or be something else, but not both at the same time. Because deluding yourself into thinking you can do both is what will get you killed for sure.
And so I guess what I’m trying to say is, I have too much to lose now to indulge in unnecessary fighting. Which for someone, who for some reason runs into as many confrontations as I do, basically means that I will have to back down from fights if at all possible, even if it is hard to swallow afterwards.
Having too much to lose is a good thing, and I know I did the right thing, but it sure doesn’t help with this incredible frustration I feel right now…
Hurry, someone call me a pussy so I can kick your ass.

Fuck a cop

So my wife came back from Thailand last night. This morning, rather. Goddamn Thai Air flight was late 90 minutes, so she missed the last hydrofoil to the island at 9:50 PM. Took a conventional ferry that arrived in the next town over at 2 in the morning. It’s a $50 cab fare (for a fifteen minute ride w/o tolls, don’t get me started on Japanese taxis today), so I went to pick her up. I have to wake up at 6:30 these days, so I went early, parked in the ferry parking lot, and went to sleep with the engine on. Zzzzzzzzzzzzz.
Woke up with a maglite beam in my face.
“I’m a policeman – open the window!”
“Oh, hell no.”
“Open the window – now!”
“Stop shining that fucking light in my face and show me a badge!”
The shit was on.
Asshole rolled me out of my car, smelled me for alcohol, inspected my driver’s license and gaijin card, and threatened to search my car. After I told him I didn’t give a shit, he lost interest in that. Instead, he told me to get lost and go sleep somewhere else. I told him I was waiting for my wife to get back from the airport. He asked me what nationality my wife was – I told him I was going back to sleep.
Of course, it didn’t end there. He harassed me some more and I told him to go look for Peruvians or something. He got all indignant and told me he knew the difference between SE Asians and South Americans. Like I give a fuck, right? I really wanted to say, hey, ain’t neither here, so get the fuck out my face…
You know, when I left California and the whole getting-pulled-over-and-photographed-for-having-slanty-eyes scene behind, little did I know that I would have to put up with the same shit in reverse on the other side of the globe…. Power trippin’ assholes with guns and badges. Some things are universal, I guess.

Fun with Sharpies

May this serve as a warning to never fall asleep in the same room that Adam and Michelle are drinking in. Amazingly enough, I had nothing to do with this. I just documented it for posterity.

The funny thing is, T doesn’t seem to mind. Yet. I might try taking him to a sento to see if how people react.