some recent laughs.

we were playing madlibs in my beginner’s adult class recently. an adjective they’d chosen formed the sentence “he was cool.” i explained the slang meaning to them. an older man raised his hand and asked “is that like ‘tight’?” huh?!? i questioned him to make sure i had heard correctly before explaining that, yes, ‘tight’ does mean ‘cool’ but it’s an esoteric term, somewhat related to hip-hop culture, that is not easily understood by the general public and therefore should not be used except among close, foreign friends. who knew kimio san rolled like that…


went out to dinner the other night with my friend takafumi. i chose nick’s bar cause i’d been craving this fabulous pork and ginger pizza they have. to my surprise, they had a new server, a fellow i know from another restaurant where he used to cook. also to my surprise, it was janken taikai night, which means paper, rock, scissors tournament. i laughed when he told us, thinking he couldn’t be for real. then he outlined the prizes you could win. takafumi let me do the honor. they say ‘saisho agu, janken pon’ as they pump their fists in and out of the middle before they throw. it roughly translates to ‘first a rock, then paper, rock, scissors.’ ‘pon’ is just a sound effect from what i’ve gathered. i horribly embarrassed our server as I beat him not once, not twice, but three times in a row to claim the grand prize…a free pizza. how perfect. although paper, rock, scissors seems like child's play to foreigners, it's a very serious decision making tool used by everyone from elementary school students to great-grandmothers here in japan. the chant was among the first language i learned after arriving although the meaning of the words escaped me until recently. there's also a second part to the ditty; if there's a tie, you sing 'aiko desho' which means 'the same isn't it?' as you throw again. and contrary to common belief in the west, there is some serious strategy involved. later at the restaurant, as I paid up, the server explained it was the first time he’d lost all night and the only time he’d ever been obliterated. I made the obligatory ‘and by a foreigner no less…’ joke, he laughed begrudgingly…

what are you lookin' at?!

the newest keyword search that yielded my page:

Num. Perc. Search Term
2 100.00% spread for gyno
2 100.00%

heh, heh.

she works hard for her money...

so i've picked up a few odd jobs here and there lately; the money doesn't hurt but i'm more interested in finding myself in these new, sometimes bizarre, situations. a couple weeks ago i taught an english lesson for the joetsu australia society of japan. i was told their language ability was superb, but i wasn't ready for the level of english ability that these students had to proffer. i was glad i’d planned a challenging lesson that culminated in a debate on whether or not prime minister koizumi should visit yasakuni shrine, where many of japan’s world war II casualties are enshrined including several class A war criminals. they eloquently and convincingly argued their points and, in the process, further educated me on the subject. another arubaito [part-time job] came by way of a phone call from the owner of a local bar that i frequent; he wanted me to come down and meet someone. thinking he was trying to set me up, i raced on over. turns out his friend is employed by a local company that peddles its wares via an online catalogue. they have a new ‘american apparel’ line and really needed gaijin [foreign] models. this fella mentioned that i’d met his boss previously during a wild night out but i didn’t put it together until i’d arrived at the studio in the mountains for a photo shoot. this whole thing coulda seemed real shady, like some of those modeling contract frauds that lead to young girls being uncovered dead in wooded areas, but the bar owner/liaison is actually a good friend. the shoot was a frenzied, but fun, couple of hours during which i received no direction and basically just put on clothes and stood around. we were obviously both amateurs at this whole deal. a few cups of coffee, some interesting conversation and $50 later i was on my way. i used the business card he’d given me to timidly check the website. one day i stumbled upon a whole page of me, sometimes looking stylishly unconcerned, sometimes looking poised uncomfortably, online. what a freakin’ riot. sneak peak…

macau, part 2

as night began to fall in macau we found ourselves in a very untouristy part of town; we were garnering all kinds of stares, the curious not malicious type. as we made our way through this market people were attempting to entertain our curiosities by explaining as best they could.

there were all sorts of bizarre foods for sale. raw goods like fish and veggies…

roasted and boiled freshly carved chunks of meat…

tons of sausages hung everywhere…

upon closer inspection of the wieners, i noticed this appetizing site…

how the hell do you prepare dehydrated whole bird in a tasty manner? maybe it’s for making broth?
we came upon a busy triangular intersection near a school and a park which was begging us to stop and people watch. we grabbed some stools in an open-air food stall and ordered a beer, well, more like pointed into the refrigerator and grunted.

it was here we came upon a situation that highlighted the amusement of the language barrier. carrie really had to pee. we scanned the area for hints as to the whereabouts of facilities, but no luck. we tried to use the word for bathroom that was in our guidebook, but the book’s focus is hong kong, where most people speak the cantonese dialect of the chinese language. on macau, most people speak mandarin chinese. we tried english, spanish, japanese…you never know…it was futile. i stood and began tracing a basin in the floor with my fingers and pretended to squat. by now other customers and employees are involved in this game of charades. i crossed my legs, clasping my hands in front of my crotch and began squirming with a distressed look on my face. some folks sighed with recognition and began to clap. i guess the pee-pee dance is international. we ran into the same problem trying to thank them for their commitment to deciphering our gestures by using the wrong dialect. they taught us the correct way. from then on, when showing appreciation, we ended up saying ‘shie shie, douje, thank you’ just to make sure we were covered.
as we wandered in and out of shops we began to hear an unmistakable sound, that of bowling pins crashing. we wondered aloud, is it the same here? we followed the auditory trail and began trying on various sizes of shoes. we mimed drinks, turned out no beer. we thought she said it was ok to bring them in so i ran across the street and stuffed a few in my purse.

i think something’s really captivating about this pic, maybe the color and leading lines…good job c.b.

a cool macanese couple was stationed beside us; only he was bowling which left her plenty of time to chat with us using her impeccable english. they were both good communicators and gave us hints on where to head for drinking and eating.
we wanted to take the opportunity to sample the fusion portuguese/chinese cooking that we’d read so much about. we attempted to follow a map to a highly recommended spot…

we ended up confounded, then we confused 3 police officers and roped them into flagging a cab for us. we arrived on the water front and circled the area surveying our choices before settling on a cozy looking spot named carlos.
we were seated at the last empty table along the window; over half the restaurant was consumed by a large table of boisterous portuguese and macanese customers. when our extra large carafe of red table wine arrived, several of them, smiling, lifted their glasses towards us in a toast. although this was one of our more expensive meals, it was still reasonably priced enough that we figured we’d over order, stuff ourselves and bitch about it later. we decided on crabs, hollowed and re-stuffed with a piquant blend of spices, citrus, breadcrumbs and meat. they were tasty but a bit dry. next we decided on a fillet of beef smothered in garlic infused brown gravy since steak is hard to come by on the homefront. my favorite was the clams, pork, potatoes and black olives sautéed perfectly in parsley, garlic and butter.

the oldest patron at the large table must have been in his 80s; a sturdily built man weakened slightly by age but kept lively by his mediterranean spirit and healthy doses of wine. he stood and began a rousing, hand-clapping sing-a-long that carrie and i joined in even though we didn’t understand a word. the older men started to trickle to our table one by one to introduce themselves and chat, eventually pulling up chairs and when we overwhelmed our seating area they brought us to theirs. they were really interested in our american upbringing, our lives in japan, our travels. and they all had really interesting stories. many were first or second generation macanese whose parents had immigrated from portugal. their higher echelon jobs ran the gamut from important posts in the government to educators to leaders of the tourism industry to jobs at high profile p.r. firms. one gentleman was introduced to us by the others with the line ‘see that picture on the wall?’ it was a huge black and white photograph taken at a soccer game of pele battling for the ball in front of the goal with a packed crowd looking on. ‘he’s the one who kept pele from scoring’ they said. he was a member of the portuguese national soccer team during its heyday. he was a handsome man for his age and was obviously used to charming the ladies…he flirted convincingly with us. he’s pictured to my left in the black hat. nice to see that other nationalities also engage in drunken picture taking…

mario and nunu

the restaurant’s owner, also of portuguese heritage, joined us and the wine flowed. they asked if we’d been to a casino. when we told them that was our next stop, they insisted on escorting us. the men employed by the macanese government are barred from entering any gambling establishments so we said goodbyes and piled into the back of a boss hog, bright white cadillac.

this is about the time we began to suspect they were into organized crime; they had some serious influence. we pulled right up to the front door of the glimmering sands casino as valets swarmed to help us exit. they implored our friend to please wait a moment as they removed the car from the closest parking space and replaced it with his caddy as we looked on. we were led to the bar to place our orders. we wanted red wine, he called for several bottles from the cellar. he made snack requests as we were lead to a prime table in front of the stage where an army of brightly dressed dancers were entertaining. we drank and talked and snacked and drank and drank until the men were about to expire. before leaving they both offered us places to stay that evening [fly right now…in their family homes w/ their spouses] which we graciously declined as we had gambling to do.
they were hesitant to leave us un-entertained so they roped two men from a nearby table who could speak a bit of english into coming to sit with us and then furnished us with another bottle of wine before departing. carrie and i chatted up the new boys until the bottle ran dry at which point we went in search of a blackjack table. being my first time, i watched from afar for a bit as carrie bought in at a nearly full table. they were pulling all kinds of fancy betting tricks we knew nothing about which was interesting to watch but dizzying. it wasn’t long before things went awry and, as you may have guessed, we were right in the middle of it. the cocky man to our left had been betting on carrie’s cards and his own while barking recommendations on how to handle the hand. as carrie contemplated her cards, he called for a hit and the dealer turned another card. we both immediately complained; how could he make a call on someone else’s hand!? the dealer said it was because carrie was standing, not sitting. we argued that he shouldn’t have let her ante or dealt her in if that was a rule. the manager came over, at first defending his dealer, then admitting he understood the problem. he moved us to another table but refused to refund carrie’s ante. we were steaming. i bought a $1000 hong kong worth of chips at a neighboring table [with a much hotter dealer] and anted up. i’d slide in one chip as the other players moved stacks of the colorful disks across the green felt. it was laughable; like cap guns versus machine guns. at one point i’d slightly more than doubled my money, but you know how these casino stories usually end. i sat there long enough to dwindle my stack down to nearly nothing. the teller was amused as i cashed in my last two chips for a few measly dollars. we were a little poorer and a lot more loopy as we made our way back to the ferry port.

we joined the crowd of folks catching some shut eye on the floor in the ferry station until time to board the boat back to hong kong at 6:30 am.

I was blindsided

I sat in the principal’s office surrounded by 2 english teachers, the vice-principal and the head honcho. his couch is over-sized with a deep recess meaning my feet barely touched the floor and I felt diminutive, like an elementary school child; the perfect effect for such a piece of furniture in this location. he began to run down the bullet-pointed list of my offenses between disapproving glances cast with distant, objective eyes, not at all like the kind man I often sneak downstairs to see between classes. “number 1) your blog is illegal.” as I attempt a response he moves along deliberately. “number 2) there will be no looking at or working on the blog while at school.” fair enough. as he slides a single sheet of official stationary across the desk towards me, “number 3) the prefecture does not want to re-new your contract.” an unexpected shot to the gut that left me uncharacteristically speechless. harkening back to defend my blog seemed banal in comparison. he went on to tell me that these two issues were unrelated as I politely excused myself from the meeting, or as it was, lecture. after the emotional haze lifted, I realized his tone was evidence of his Japanese style of governing, not harsh feelings towards me. all the same, the fleeting, empathetic glances he’s subsequently cast in my direction do little to dispel the stressful decision making process that lies before me.

a million and one thoughts seem to be constantly churning in my head. the more I have traveled and done, the more clearly I’ve understood how much I am capable of doing. dreaming is easy; the obstacle is actually plunging into it, making it happen. once you’ve leapt that hurdle, you realize you can probably clear the others that will follow [as i make a feeble analogy between life and a track and field event. you get the point]. at the risk of sounding smug… if I can move to the other side of the world where things as I knew them are absolutely turned upside down, if I can trek through jungles in papua new guinea with a sewn up and paralyzed hand, if I can spend hours surrounded by korean friends with whom I share not one word of a common language, if i can travel to hong kong with $1.50 in my pocket and make it, I feel equipped to attempt a number of other equally challenging and exciting journeys. one reason this sudden, life-altering decision seems so difficult is because I realize better than ever before that the world offers so many possibilities for personal growth, opportunities to contribute to the well-being of humanity and adventures. every time I think I’ve begun to narrow it down, I perceive a new angle and retard myself [in that true sense of the word]. I’ve been trying to organize priorities and during this process I’ve determined money isn’t at the apex, which is a nice realization. I think at this point adventure and experience are because they’re the only signposts I’ve noticed thus far in life which point me in a direction that fulfills and satisfies me. as I grope my way through life, i am emboldened by my experiences and inspired to seek challenges. so it’s time to decide where the next chapter will begin. here’s another bulleted list for ya, this one of my options…
-I’ve been offered a job in the middle of nowhere in this prefecture which would facilitate saving money but would be the end of my social existence. i can imagine myself living a scene out of “the shining” as I slowly get cabin fever and go nuts. there is a possibility that i could live near town [not as conveniently as now though] but that would mean a 1-2 hour commute each way to work.
-I’ve been pouring over schools that offer master’s degrees in teaching English as a foreign language. there are several interesting prospects in Thailand, where i’ve been aching to return since i vacationed there last winter. there are also many uni programs littered throughout the u.s. but they’re crazy expensive. grad school means studying, not earning money so there is a significant amount of upfront capital involved in this proposition.
-i’ve contemplated moving to korea to continue this occupation at my current level. it offers plenty of adventure and distraction, which are important, but also a significantly cheaper cost of living with only slightly lower wages than i’m currently garnering. i met an english speaking headmaster at a boy’s high school when i traveled to seoul. we exchanged information in case i was ever looking for a job in his neck of the woods. hmmm… of course this would mean deserting my friends and the culture and language that i’ve worked so hard to understand the last few years.
-i’ve been really interested in calling a japanese metropolis my home. pay would be comparable, although cost of living would skyrocket. on top of that, i’d spend infinitely more supporting my entertainment addiction i’m sure. and i’m not sure if i could organize all the details involved with renting a new place, finding a new job, moving, transferring mail and accounts, etc. on short notice. i wish i was more familiar with the burbs surrounding the main hubs; i bet they offer the convenience of proximity without the financial strain.
if anybody has any great ideas, or just wants to tell me what to do so i can quit racking my brain about it, that’d be great. thanks.

sudoku anon

i am officially addicted to sudoku

macau, part 1

macau doesn’t get enough credit. it’s listed as a day-trip from hong kong or a sidenote on a gambler’s itinerary, instead of as the culturally rich and entertaining island that it is. we boarded the morning ferry bound for the small plot of land located 35 miles west of hong kong.

as a former portuguese colony, the architecture, language, cuisine and way of life is a mediterranean-oriental blend that’s rare in the far east.

check out the mixed usage of portuguese and chinese.

we disembarked on the corner of the island that is home to the casinos. more on that later… we set off on foot to explore and quickly found ourselves in a nearly inescapable maze of fencing and barriers erected around the main vein of road that we were following into the city center. turns out we’d arrived one day after the macau grand prix had ended and the city was still showing signs of its transformation into a huge racecourse with grandstands.

no one appeared to find this chunk of car on the sidewalk strange…

we wandered past the posh hotels…

past the enormous housing blocks…

into the commercial heart of this special administrative region [SAR] of china.

the area was littered with jewelry shops, money changers, electronics stores [all obviously targeting the high rollers who have just taken stanley ho, macau’s real estate tycoon, and his casinos to the bank], and lots of stands selling this fabulous pork and beef jerky.


all the shops wanted to shear us off a corner to sample**some tasty business**but this place was exceptionally friendly.

couldn’t tell if they were really goodwill ambassadors or just money hungry…either way…they showed us how to make the omnipresent almond cookies that are an iconic macau souvenir. first you spatula the almond, flour, sugar [i’m guessing here; they didn’t speak any english so we couldn’t really ask. details do fill out a story nicely though…] mix into the wooden mold.

then you slam it down in a basket karate-chop style, hard enough to dislodge the dry but tasty treats.

we didn’t however sample this snack which is undoubtedly a real pleaser. healthy too!

as we criss-crossed the area, one thing after another kept catching our eye. as we’d head over to explore, something else would look interesting and before we knew it, we’d been lured out of the city center into the real heart of macau, where people were actually living, socializing, existing.

many of the thoroughfares were nothing more than narrow alleys that meandered in no particular pattern.

we stopped at this stand in front of a tiny eatery to sample what a bunch of people obviously thought was tasty cause they were lining up for it.

we pointed at some of the foods threaded on sticks, miscommunicated a bit, ended up with mushrooms and two kinds of dumplings. they were boiled in the steaming vats while we waited, then scissored into cups with ladles full of sauces. we chose a curry and something they described as ‘sp-eye-shee’, the asian equivalent of spicy, which was all slopped together.

it was saucy and delish, except for those few strange parts of pork [?] i came across in a dumplin’.

saw a chinese medicine shop [check us out in the mirror]…

from there we noticed this palm reader…

we leisurely made our way through the streets…

past this housing block…

we wandered through a grocery store for what seemed like hours. around the corner was this bustling commerce area…

with some independent service providers set up in the side alleys…

we rummaged through an old junk/antique store that housed countless statues of mao zedong, tons of propaganda posters, relics from wars and red army memorabilia, historical items, like authentic tiny shoes that had been used to bind women’s feet resting next to deteriorating photographs depicting the practice. we were followed around in there like secret foot soldiers for bush’s current democratic manifest destiny who might torch the whole collection of communist keepsakes at any second.
then we stumbled upon this temple…

it was a little junky on the inside. brooms and sticks leaning in the corners…cleaning products and broken flower pots occupying rickety shelves… towels drying on makeshift hangers… the thirty-something female caretaker sat uninterested in the corner incessantly clipping her fingernails. aside from all that, the smoke from the numerous coils of over-sized incense gave the place a mystical feel.

it did house some really interesting statues…

some inspiring school moments...

**was walking down the hall today and two of the bad-ass delinquent-esque boys were scrubbing the wall where, i'm guessing, they'd been caught doodling. i always say hi, sometimes they reply with a slang 'ohas as'. today they beat me to it, regurgitating something i had taught them in a few seconds of downtime. they shot a 'what's up' at me, complete with the head nod. i responded and then let a huge smile grow across my face as i kept walking. english in action baby!

**yesterday was the last class session for my third year students at yoshikawa high school. because i only teach there once a week, on tuesdays, i rarely have a grip on what's going on so i didn't know until the middle of the lesson that i wouldn't be teaching them again. i stopped class a bit early b/c i wanted to give them a heartfelt send-off and i decided on the spot it needed to be done in japanese so that they might actually understand some of it. i launched into it...how they need to stay curious, ask lots of questions, see and learn from other parts of the world, don't be afraid of their individual ideas. i attempted to explain how the man who thought of the airplane was deemed crazy before he and others actual realized his vision. i'd asked the japanese teacher to translate but he just kept waving me on, as if the kids were getting it. he only had to step in to translate 'explore' for me. they laughed when i attempted jokes, nodded when i said important things... after class two of my favorites came up to tell me they'd understood and thank me for teaching their class. how bizarre to see these students moving on. i’ve taught them for two years; they’ve taught me for two years. i managed to refrain from crying or bear-hugging them.

**i was readying hand-outs for class in the copy room when i heard two of the tiniest first year girls quietly talking in the hall. they were discussing my name, how to spell it and pronounce it correctly and the translation of sensei. there was also some discussion as to whether in english you should say tiffany teacher or teacher tiffany. when i exited they excitedly waved and chimed ‘herro tee-fa-nee teacha'. how friggin’ cute is that?!

hong kong, part 1

carrie and i stormed hong kong a while back. we travel well together because we enjoy each other’s company and insights, plus our interests are similar [namely nightclubs, men and beer. kidding…] and we’re able to spend as much or as little time together as our whims dictate. we arrived in hong kong late on a saturday night; it was november 19. we jumped a bus i’d read about at the airport and disembarked on the side of a busy street right downtown in causeway bay with no clue where to head. we quickly realized that the average honkie [i really do think that’s what hong kong residents are nicknamed] have a surprisingly good grasp of the english language. people understood our questions about the street address, they just had no clue as to its whereabouts. after wrong turns and back tracks we finally found wang fat hostel. it was the first of many establishment names that could be construed as penis jokes…

it was well after 1am and our room wasn’t ready so after waiting and settling in we decided to save ourselves for the following day.
hong kong consists of 2 main parts; hong kong island and the mainland. we woke early the next morn and headed for the port.

the streets are a huge tangle, some way overcrowded with people hustling and cars inching along. i was surprised at the canopy of seemingly dangerous neon signs that covered nearly every main throughfare.

we caught a ferry from the island, where we stayed since that’s where most of the clubs were located, to tsim sha tsui, the most populous spot on the mainland, where we darted in the first eatery we could find.

i guess most people just order one dish but we were starving and are used to the japanese style of sharing many small servings, so we made ourselves look like pigs with cold pumpkin soup [lacked much depth of flavor], fried wontons [yummy], mushrooms wrapped in beef in brown sauce [a bit tough but flavored well], wild rice, and green veggie and dumpling stew [it proved really hard to eat the huge dumplings without looking like a slob].

if you’re thinking my descriptions lack enticing adjectives, know they closely mirror the translations we found on menus, when there was actually any english at all.
then we hit kowloon park for the weekly martial arts exhibition.

obviously some local kung fu schools put it on, lots of children, some very talented.
we wandered through the maze of streets just taking in the sights, sounds and smells of it all. one of seemingly millions of street stalls.

i was feeling cautious but not panicked by the recent surge of avian flu. although they were taking the threat seriously…

apparently they weren’t about to give up their sidewalk live fowl markets.
i decided to photograph from across the road just in case...

we made our way to hong kong’s largest market on temple st., which is referred to as men’s market because it used to sell only menswear. the peak hours are at night; we arrived just as their business day was beginning.

i fell in love with the markets there. although they are grubby and crowded you can find anything your little heart desires for a freakin’ bargain, they are great spots for people watching, and there are so many restaurants, if you will, tucked between the vendors. many consist of a closet sized shop with folding tables and stools wedged onto the sidewalk out front. the food's cheap, plentiful and the beer is cold.

we were so stuffed from our heaping plates of sautéed muscles and green vegetable [maybe kale] stir-fry with garlic that we couldn’t make room to try the last thing on the list…

we passed this butcher shop/eatery as we made our way back to the ferry port.

we spiffed up and hit the town.

we headed to lan kwai fong, the hip entertainment district, but to our disappointment most of the honkies are good boys and girls and stay home on sunday nights apparently. we found a club that looked like something out of the flintstones aptly named the cavern where a chinese band was cranking out ‘70s and ‘80s covers. pretty damn funny.
the next morning afternoon, we hopped a bus to the northern part of the island to visit stanley market. [thanks to charlie for that lil’ html jewel.]

we snagged a prime table for some lunch; i had a crunchy noodle stir-fry with shrooms and the infamous green vegetable; decent, filling and cheap.


then we shopped so long that it was time to head straight to dinner. we made our way to a mexican restaurant in wan chai, which has been the seedy district ever since it became the hotspot for u.s. sailors on leave from the vietnam war. nestled between gawdy hostess bars we found a rather posh joint with enchiladas, burritos and $30 pitchers of margaritas, but hey, we were on vacation… we decided to try our luck in some of the surrounding bars. some drunk, stumbly patrons urged us to try a second-floor dance club saying it was ladies’ nite. you know something’s not quite right when ladies drink for absolutely free…the place was a creepy dive. we were never able to figure out which girls were actually working and which ones were “working”. free wasn’t enough to keep us there once we couldn’t shake some loser with a bad attitude who’d camped out our table. some of the other bars were a lil’ more normal but all in all that part of town was not our niche. carrie headed back to the hostel and i set off to find a club i’d read about in the guidebook. managed to make it to the locale only to embarrass myself by asking about a nightspot that had closed two years prior. luckily i’d asked an interesting fellow to help, so instead of hitting the club, i spent the next hour or so chilling out with him. what a stroke of luck.

**some photos credited to carrie