The Fissel

So yeah, it finally happened. It was bound to, really, sooner or later.

Just a word of warning, this may very well turn out to be one of those (very, very few) posts which aren't so much fun for you to read as they are for me to write. It's all about catharsis, or something. It doesn't even have a Beverage of the timeperiod-since-the-last-post! Or pictures! Go on, treat yourself to something fun instead. I know this great little place called YouTube.

On Thursday, it's Vernal Equinox Day here in Japan. "But of course, they don't call it that, they call it" uhm, 春分の日, which just looks plain weird, wouldn't you say? For average Joa Tanaka (name changed to protect the actual identity of the caller), this is a day to revel in the arrival of Spring, and that his language is far more succinct than English with reagrds to Equinoxes, be they Vernal or Autumnal! And no, I did not just look that up.

It's also a day of mourning. For all the people who miss the winter here, with its let's-see-if-we-can-make-it-colder-inside-than-it-is-outside approach to global warming. I am not one of them. I can't be sure anymore, but I imagine I liked Swedish winter marginally better than the Japanese one, mainly on account of insulation being present in the buildings. But if my Swedish self heard me say that, he'd probably be all like "Yeah, you love the slush and rain, don't you, slush-and-rain-lover!". Apparently, my Swedish self is about seven years old.

Now, as I have previsouly detailed elsewhere, spring is a time of new beginnings, especially here in the land of 2 000 000 vending machines. The school year starts, the cherry blossoms do their thing, and everybody starts going to the park on Sunday because nobody else will probably have thought to do that yet (Yes, they will also be terribly wrong). And so, given that it feels kinda silly to go around in jacket made of actual winter (or should that be made of actual summer?) when it's 15 degrees out, our young hero dons his spring ditto, and heads out into the world.

The first thing you need to in spring is renew something. It's just the spirit of the thing. So instead of renewing things like my apartment (which would cost money) or my pledge to join a gym (which in an of itself wouldn't cost anything, but were it ever to be honored would cost heavily in percentage of body fat), I decide to go look for a job. At the company where I work.

Allow me some build-up-to-the-fall backgroundish reveling. I have never failed to get a job I've applied for. I leave it up to the all mighty Intranet to decide if this is indicative of me only applying for jobs anybody can get, or actually being infused from birth with magic, job-getting powers. I have, on occasion, been offered two jobs at the same time, and - not being ambitious enough to work 80 hours a week at one job, much less two - been forced to cherry-pick. It's all quite stressful. But as it turns out, monkeys apparently do fall from trees (much more colorful than "the sun has its spots", yeah? Joe Tanaka 2, Rest-of-world 0). Not all the time, though, that would just be silly. Also, it would eventually make them stop trying to climb the damn things in the first place, one would hope.

The most annoying thing about - queue overly drammatic Danny Elfman tune - faililng? I have nothing to complain about! The rationale behind the decision is solid, the way the news was delivered was considerate, and as far as I know, the guy deciding is - shock, horror - nice! How am I supposed to work around that, I ask you?

So esentially, for all intents and purposes, this has been a very roundabout way of saying excuse me while I go wallow in chocolate. And then head to the park. It'd be a shame not to, really, on a day like today.

The Logistics

A lot of things can happen in, uhm, four months?

So yes, I'm back! By actual public demand! With exclamation marks! Now you may be thinking that this hiatus occurred because so many interesting things happened in my life that I just did not have the time to write about them. Or, you may be thinking, that so few interesting things happened in my life that it took all this time to scrape together enough stuff to fill this post (which so far isn't really about anything at all, further strengthening that theory). You would, however, be wrong.

Damn it, what did my creative writing teacher say about not being rude to the audience? Come on, focus!

I guess what it all comes down to is that circa October/November 2007, when the entire Western World congregated on Facebook, and the entire Eastern World (which obviously exists entirely of the Islands of Japan) did the same on Mixi and 2-chan (at once!), what little relevance this thing used to have went out the window. The Personal Blog is Dead, and all that. But you know, it's just not. So now that Global Warming has smiled on me to the extent that I was able to sit on the balcony and finish off a book this fine morning, I think it's time again. Feel free to bear with me, if you care for puns of that particular nature.

Snow! In Tokyokohama!

That being said, the picture is the view from the very same balcony mere days(-ish) ago. And I did go snowboarding ten days ago. If by "snowboarding", you mean... Here, the old - or rather, young - me would have gone with something like "if you mean falling on your ass much to the merriment of all around", but boarding actually went pretty well. I guess my extensive surfing experience - having failed spectacularly at it on two separate continents - really helped. Not like I was instantly transformed into *pauses to google "world famous snowboarder"* Terje Haakenson *curses at realization that the article is three Olympics old* but by the end of the first day I could turn, and by the end of the second, I could imagine I looked like Terje Haakenson doing it. Naturally, pausing to imagine that broke my concentration and made me fall on my ass, but there you have it.

While the above alone would easily qualify it as one of the top three ski/board-trips of my life, there was more. Logistics, for instance. Now I did not major in it, and I guess it showed. For you see... Taking it from the proverbial top, the story goes: Our hero gets on the night bus in Ikebukuro at 23:00 to arrive in Hakuba at 07:30 the following morning. Only he doesn't, because the tour operator somehow "misplaces" his reservation. A full hour - I shit you not - of the one guy in the suit calling somebody else - probably not wearing a suit, given the hour - and I'm on the bus. Groovhey.

Logistics-failure #2. The first night is spent with friends who came up from Gifu. Unfortunately, they had to cut the trip short due to a slight relationship/communication SNAFU, meaning I was left on my own for the second day. No matter, the second team of friends were incoming to rescue me from riding lifts with Japanese people who, when I told them I was from Sweden, asked which country I was from. At least they had the courtesy not to believe it was Spain. Or Switzerland.

Logistics-failure #3. The second friend-team had also split up on that day, one half heading home. This in and of itself was not a failure, it was part of the original plan. What wasn't, however, was that the driver's cornea would start to come loose. This, as I am sure you can imagine is not entirely pleasant. So having joined up with team #2, we pack it up and start heading back to Tokyo to take over the driving, to much protestations from the gallant driver. Thankfully though, his condition stabilizes and nothing happened on the way back.

And now, having suffered three logistics-failures in one trip, the sun finally shines. As I'd rented my board and gear in Hakuba, with no way of returning it in the middle of the night when we unexpectedly left for home, I had to return it someway. But to the delight of everyone, the fact that I now knew the Japanese word for cornea meant I could explain things to the rental-place, who let me off without even having to pay for the extra day it would take to return the gear via Kuroneko Yamato ("black-cat ancient Japan", basically Fed-EX. Not UPS!). Thank you Japan, good night!

Feel free to tune in next week - which if the past is any judge will occur sometime in mid-June - as I will have gone to Disneyland! Or I could just be making that up.


Beverage of the Week #4
Name: Ambasa Sour White
Catchphrase: "Ambassaaaaa!"
Price/volume: 120 yen for 300ml
Place/time of purchase: Bus station in Kawasaki /22:12
Particular Point of Interest: It's Ambasa, does it really need one?
Taste: Heavy on the White, light on the Sour

Overall score (not an average): 7/B

The Escape

A lot of things can happen in two fortnights.

I knew it was too ambitious. The project was doomed from the start. It was one of those things that seemed like such a good idea on paper, that once it was realized it would change the world. Not unlike the entente cordiale or possibly chocolate covered macadamia nuts. I am of course referring to the Beverage of the Week, the incredible new (going by the actual number of posts) old (going by the amount of time since the first one) feature of this here blog. And today, as ever, it's a doozy.

However, as I sit here in my increasingly cold apartment (I have got to get in on that space heater action, soonish), there are other things that weigh on my mind. The first? Escape the cold. It's all very Maslowian. Now, to escape the cold (without resorting to purchasing a space heater or wearing actual clothing), you can, well, escape. This, in turn, provides you with two options: North or South. Not a very big idea to escape the cold by running East or West, although I guess it is colder in central Siberia than it is in Stockholm.

So? I tried it. But since I can't really decide on a direction, I figured I go for South-western Tohoku (again, "there's a delicious pun in there, but certainly not good enough to warrant extensive Japanese language study"). Or just Tohoku, whatever. There's a place there called Matsushima, which is one of Japan's "Big three sights". They do love their lists here, or so says Lonely Planet of five years and three editions ago.

Who knew? There are green, flat things in this country!

Day 1: Weather not great. Sights? Definitely top three

Day 1: Weather improved. Sights? Certainly not top anything

Now there are also some quaint features of heading out into the countryside in Japan. Like how you have to push a button to open the train doors (we almost missed our stop! What's next, manually having to push it open?!), or how you can actually smell salt in the air. Once. But it still counts. Don't get me wrong. Coming from a metropolis of 8500 souls, I should not be one to mock the laid-back country lifestyle. Especially when they've got elevators like this:

Welcome to 1984

So yeah, that would be the first attempt at escape. The second one? having tried all directions at once, I decided to stay in and unpack. My entire life. With bits slightly broken and tattered, but overall ok. For you see, I am once again the proud owner of all my junk. And some exciting new junk as well, so that I can display my old junk properly. It's the greatness! Took a fair while to get it all together, though, but at least it is now done (except a tiny pile of things that just don't seem to want to end up anywhere but on the floor, for some reason. Think I'll keep it there).

Of course, that stunt didn't prove effective for very long, before you knew it, I was back in reality again. So if escaping didn't work, and not escaping didn't work, surely escaping again would, right? Flawless logic. Which is why I shall be traveling to the tiny Pacific island of Saipan with someone very dear to my heart, in what is practically only a week's time! Ten glorious days of, and I am quoting here, "Sola och bada, pina colada". And no, I can't be bothered to make the squiggly thing above the "n". Won't be drinking that anyway.

And now, the moment you've all been waiting for! Or at least the lead-up to it. Kind of a theme, this week. Is it any wonder I chose to live in this country, where the donut-ads are 8-bit throwbacks and the soda made from RPGs? (and no, I don't work at Fox News; it's not that kind of RPG)

Mr Donut will be crowned King Donut based solely on this ad. At least he should, damnit!

Beverage of the Week #3:
Name: FFVII Potion Limited Edition (Tifa version)
Catchphrase 1: "Guano bowls, collect the whole set!"
Catchphrase 2: "Gotta catch 'em all!"
Price/volume: 200yen for 350ml
Place/time of purchase: Maruetsu/16:36
Particular Point of Interest: You're never gonna find one with Aeris on it. Also, it's prime ingredient is "Royal Jelly", something sure to turn the stomach of any Futurama fan
Taste: Way better than you might think, given the packaging and, well, concept in general

Overall score (not an average): 9/B+

The Wedding

A lot of things can happen in a fortnight.

I know, I know, I it must have been horrible to go a whole extra week without "Beverage of the week", so just scroll down and there you'll find it. In other news, I have been back to Saitama with one very good friend, attended a trade show with 190 000 other people (some friends included, no purchase necessary), and been to a wedding. Not my own. I think.

But, time is of the essence, as ever. The reason for this is that I have to go to work. On a Saturday. This sucks in a not small way. "What cannot be changed, must be endured", and all that honkey. Anyway. Why would you go to Saitama? Aside from the obvious reasons of "why not?" and "I'm all out of Skittles", the main reason for me and Tomo was that we "studied" (yes, I'm intentionally trying to make this paragraph the most quotation-mark-intensive one since 1998) there what is now a full four years ago. So we basically pottered around up there for a while, getting all nostalgic about things people usually get nostalgic about. Like supermarkets where the one gallon whiskey-jugs are now placed slightly across from the bikes and tvs, but at a price; you can't get puppies there anymore.

To further increase your amusement (anything for you!), here are some random pictures from Saitama, spiritual home of... Something, I'm sure.

The Happy Road. On what we who have lived up there know to be the right side of the tracks.

The bad news: Fresh bars so students can't sneak back onto campus at night to party wildly anymore. The good news: they haven't done anything about the four-foot hedge being the only thing barring entry on the north side.

In the grand tradition of this blog, guess the place where the warning sign was posted, and win absolutely nothing.

One grand tour and a baseball game later (which Chunichi embarrassingly lost by one, despite me having purchased impossibly over-priced cheering paraphernalia at the event), it was time for the big ol' yearly event out in Makuhari. It was... much like it was when we were there in 2003. If you happen to be one of the 6.7 billion people who was not there in 2003, let me sum up the entire trade-show experience in one picture:

Why this sign was not present at Hultsfred, I will never know.

Finally, there was a wedding. Now, some things of this nature you just don't see coming, whereas others can be spotted a mile (or eight or so years) away. This falls into the latter category. I guess it's pretty uncommon for people to come away from a wedding thinking "this'll never last", but in this case, I feel fairly confident in saying that these two were made for each other. If you had been there too, you would agree. On this you shall have to trust me.

Now, I had never been to Japanese wedding before, so I was probably the third most nervous person there (after the staffer who saw this random foreigner approaching, probably to spoil the party, and the guy at the back who quenched all his nervousness in liquor, making him scream out humorous things at well-chosen times throughout the ceremonies). This is a whole different level compared to the informal Swedish one I'd been to. Things I had to do to get ready:

1) Get a white tie. No, it's not a funeral, but that's the deal here.
2) Borrow a suit, since my own suits have only just now arrived in Yokohama harbor with all the rest of my junk.
3) Get a special envelope to give the tradition wedding-present: cash.
4) Learn that you can't give an even number of bills, as that would imply that the couple too would be divisible.
5) Get new bills. No old money here.
6) Get a special pen to write on the special envelope.
7) Spend two hours on the internet learning what to write on the envelope.
8) Spend another hour trying to write that, legibly, and failing horribly. Why use regular Kanji for numbers when you can write them like they did back in the old days?
9) Spend on sleepless night worrying I might screw up all the proper polite phrases used especially for weddings. Ok, so I slept fine, whatever.

Not my computer, but the fine penmanship is indeed mine.

Once all this was accomplished, the ceremony was held, I realized I could probably have gotten away with a lot less worrying. It was a grand ol' time, with waterworks from pretty much everywhere. I won't post pictures of the couple since they're off doing what they're doing and I'm not sure it would be kosher, but I'm certain you can imagine the scene: two happy Japanese people in fancy garb, surrounded by lots of other happy Japanese people. And a half-Japanese guy, some people from Taiwan, and me.

And now, the moment you've all been waiting for:

Beverage of the Week #2:
Name: Lifeguard
Catchphrase: "Because no other beverage looks this good in camo"
Price/volume: 130 yen for 500ml
Place/time of purchase: Saitama Univeristy/15:16
Particular Point of Interest: The World's First "Bionic Drink" (possibly)
Taste: Like it's probably gonna be the World's Last "Bionic Drink"

The Lemons

Across from my apartment, there is a lady who is not cleaning her window. That is not to imply that I think she needs to clean her window, merely a statement of fact.

If I make my way down to the first floor, turn left, and walk for 15 minutes, I end up in... not Shinjuku, as was once the case, but at least Kappa Sushi. Which ain't bad, really. However, the Gods do have their fun with me from time to time. For you see, I have now for all intents and purposes moved to my place of permanent residence. But I still don't have a bed. Or a frying pan (or, as a sign in the place I stayed before said, "this pan suitable for flying"). That will all come later, or hopefully sooner, as it's currently winging its way across what I'm hoping is a very pacific Pacific. Or at least Indian.

The Gods do not only keep me from my crockery, they can also be a little over-zealous in their concerns for my personal hygiene. Like just now, when I went out to have Ramen-noodles (which is pretty much like saying "CD-skiva" in Swedish. Or French, for that matter): The noodles were the best I'd had since getting here - Yayaya is not opening in its new location for another month - but when we were getting ready to leave, the heavens opened and water came flowing down. I suppose that means that there's a large reservoir of water above the heavens, which might not really be the case, but the thing is, we got really wet. In the tropical sense. Not in the Amazon-sense, but pretty frikkin close. And of course, when we get back through the thunder and the rain, it all decides it's had enough fun, and stops. The joke, my friends, is on me. Again.

There is much rain in Japan. And traffic signs.

So yes, I am now "settled in", whatever that means for a person typing this on a collapsible chair. It might mean that posts become at least a little more frequent (the opposite would be hard to imagine), and since I now have The Internet, they may even get their picture-element back.

Right now, though, I'm far too busy (have to watch tv!) to continue these blog-shenanigans. I shall leave you with this, what I intend to make a weekly recurring segment of the show. The Beverage of the Week! Why would this be of any interest whatsoever? Hey, I only provide the questions. Socratic method, and all that jazz.


Beverage of the Week #1:
Name: Lemon's Lemon
Catchphrase: "Because it isn't just anybody's Lemon"
Price/volume: 120yen for 140ml
Place/time of purchase: Okurayama Station/22:04
Particular Point of Interest: Contains 50 Lemons' worth of vitamin C
Taste: Like it contains 50 Lemons' worth of vitamin C

Overall score (not an average): 6/B

The Retard Rodeo

No, I don't mind that much. I might even have gone, had one of my (two) soccer-crazy friends mentioned the event more than ten hours before... tee off?

Yeah, the rodeo's in town. That town is Shin-Yokohama, and the rodeo takes the shape of approximately five point eight billion fans of Barcelona. Don't really know what that town has done to deserve all that love, but I suspect it's all to do with Henke Larsson. Anyway, when I get back from my new place (to the place I'm staying in until the appliances I've ordered get delivered on Sunday), I'm greeted by at least half of the five point eight billion soccer fans, and also five hundred random Chinese people all with the same type of luggage, all moving "up-stream", as it were, away from the station. Throw in a couple of "public safety officers" trying their very best (i.e. their very loudest) to guide said public, and you have a recipe for if not disaster, then at least humor of a kind very few people actually appreciate.

Oh dear, my A.C. just started making strange sounds. In the middle of Japanese summer, that's right up there on the unpleasantness scale with the stewardess kindly informing you - half way over Siberia - that your side of the aircraft is having some electrical difficulties. Good thing, at least the other half will survive us plummeting thirty thousand feet to our frozen doom.

But yeah, I'm getting off track. What has indeed happened since the last time I posted anything, is that I've moved to Japan. I've got the little stamp in the passport to prove it. I have found an apartment... Well, let's not be bashful, it's actually a "designer mansion". Ok, so maybe 40 sqm doesn't seem like much of a mansion to you, but that's your loss, frankly. In Japanese, it's a "mansion", and a designer one at that. I, my friend, am living the high-life. Currently, it contains one A.C. and a couch. Or sofa, of you swing that way. More stuff will fill that place by the end of the week, though, take my word for it.

So that's pretty much what's been taking up all the time I haven't been working. Once I get reconnected to the internet at my new place in a short-short 12 days' time, I might even post some pictures. Yes, I shall live without access to the internet, something mankind has not done for any long stretch of time since the days when it was spelled with a capital "I".

Ok, I'll go and... pretend to be busy with something over there now. In the mean time, ponder the fact that the internet may be the best invention since I was born (fine, I'm not that old, whatever). Except for Pizza Hut's sausage crust pizzas. You take all the wholesome goodness of a hot dog and combine it with the nutritious explosion that is a pizza, and there you have it. Walking heart-attack? I'll take two, please.

The Pack

Last night, I went out to get a pack of what cigarettes. Because I'm moving to Japan.

Of course, they weren't for me. There are far too many great as-yet unknown ways of contracting cancerous tumors for me to spend my time attempting to procure one by pursuing that particular old-fashioned route. While I have been given a pack by a young woman who came all the way from Tokyo to Nagoya "just to give you this, since I saw you on TV", I have never actually purchased any myself. No, they were for this man. I shall call him Ken, because that wasn't his name. He was at my house. With what I can only assume was if not a friend, than at least a colleague, in the shape of Toby. Which wasn't his name, either. But still, two random guys were at my house. Which, yes, technically isn't my house. The lies!

Anyway, they were movers. Now I have some experience in dragging loads of stuff back and forth to Japan, but for all the times I've done it, I've never felt compelled to employ the services of two men and a huge truck. Well, ok, felt compelled, yes, actually done it, no. So it was me, Ken, Toby, and the truck. Which was stuck. Obviously.

It doth be in there good. Or bad, as it were.

Due to recent actual rains and various deities giving it the old college try to rain on my parade in a more poetic sense, Ken backed up over a patch of ground which, it turns out, wasn't really ground at all. Man, was that truck at an awkward angle while we waited for assistance in the form of a great big tow-truck.

The not-quite-right way up. And no, that's not my crap in there, thankfully.

None of this, of course, explains what I was doing purchasing saran-wrapped cancer on a stick. Or would that be in a stick? I'm not quite sure. Either way, they were for Ken, an excuse that when given to shop keepers across the land by nicotine-craving 13 year-olds has fallen on deaf ears. For me, it worked like a charm. Maybe it was because the old lady behind the register was busy screaming "If you're not going to make a purchase, just get out!" at what I can only assume was a group of nicotine-craving 13 year-olds.

So yes, the moral of this story kids? Stay in school. And while you're in school, feel free to say a prayer (as I imagine people in schools do) for all my junk, which is now slowly winging its way East. I hope. Maybe some of it will actually arrive, and some of that might actually not be broken. Hope, as they say, springs eternal.

---

However, the above does little to explain my absence from the intertubes over the past month. That, you see, has to do with vacation, a subject surely far less interesting than that of trucks at weird angles, and also, cigarettes. So it follows it won't get as much space here. Suffice to say, vacation, in all its many, many forms, kicks ass. Seriously. If you haven't tried it, you really should. Sometime soon. It is, as they say in Japan, completely frikkin' お奨め.

I went to a place I had not been in a number of years that can only with the utmost difficulty be counted on one hand. And it was, as they say in Ireland, grand. And yes, I'm very much word-dropping to show off my globe-trotterianism. Anyway, here's what it looks like. One of these was shot during the day, the other was shot at sunset. For once, he tells the truth!

Sunset or midday? You be the judge!

Midday or sunset? It can't be both!

So now, as the sun sets on my time in Sweden (see what I did there? That's was what they call in Sweden a P3-segue) for what in all likelihood be almost a full year, I sit here, wondering... Not about the big questions, really, but more practical matters like how do I end this post? If you have any ideas, feel free to contact me, you do know the number. In the meantime, I'll be busy starting another new life in Japan. This time it's for real.

The Business

Say what you will of the French, but no people have gone further in mastering the art of the incredibly annoying Nokia ring tone-alarm-wakeup-thing.

Indeed it does, my friends.

So yeah, I've been away. You may have noticed. You may not have, that's entirely up to you. But a couple of months ago, I received in the mail a silver-tinted card, officially making me a member of my chosen airline alliance's middle-tier bonus club. Which was nice of them, although I do agree with research that suggest those who end up third are generally happier than those who get second place ("Yay, I made the podium!" vs "Bugg'rit, missed out on winning. Again"). But this induction into the carbon polluters secondary hall of shame meant I of course had to do something with the point-things.

By the way, I really miss the days when I could sanctimoniously scoff at pretty much most other people just because I didn't have a car. Now it seems I can't get on a plane without having an attack of carbon-conscience. Somebody should just take matters into their own hands and disinvent fossil fuels altogether.

Anyway, back to what might resemble a story. What to do about the points? Fly, of course. Where? I have two (or possibly three, now) entirely separate friends in Ireland, lets go see them! (this may or may not in fact have been the primary motivation for the trip, but it seems so much globetrotterian to go the other way). However, even after payment, there would still be some points left. They were about to go bad, just like that piece of soft cheese I've just blatantly ignored in the fridge since its purchase back in times ancient. So yes, since I am now a working man and will likely have less holiday-days a year than you can count on one finger, why not go the whole nine yards and do things in style: Business class. Oh yeah.

Things are very much the smoothness on my flight out, but the return journey? Can-fucking-celled. Technical difficulties. While part of me - yes - can appreciate the fact that the airline took time out of its schedule to check it wouldn't kill us all this time, I can't help thinking the Karmic Gods are laughing their collective behinds off. My second ever business class trip turns into a re-routing via Switzerland, and a six-hour delay in arrival. But being the one and only (Chesney Hawkes!) business passenger from Zürich made me appreciate the reverse of that Seinfeld skit where he imagines what the look back from the stewardess closing the little curtain means: "If you only tried a little bit harder, I wouldn't have to do this to you, you know".

Also! While apparently I am naive enough to believe the guy who told me the EU allows airlines to not give out monetary compensation when flights are grounded on technical grounds, I was generously treated to lunch at the airport. Who says there's no such thing as a free lunch?

Really, it tasted better than it looks

On the flight, reading the staple of the business traveler, the Financial Times, I find this little piece about China and India. And visas! You see, they're not really happy with each other about some random land somewhere. China wants it. India kinda wants it too. Same old, same old. But instead of taking the active option - just invade and get it over with, one way or another - India negotiates sending a team of negotiators to China to talk it over, and possibly have some tea. But these meta-negotiations... crash and burn. You see, China refused this one guy an entry visa. This is a valid reason for getting upset, I feel. But the reason was that since the guy was from the disputed area, China thus considered him to be Chinese, and not in need of a visa in the first place. Now as a guy who's been through his fair share of visa-related crap over the years, let me just tell you, negotiator-guy, don't be an idiot. You take that ball and run with it as far as you possibly can. One less visa-requirement in the world will only make it that much better a place to pollute by flying frivolously around it.

The Financial Times

Now that the actual journey has been covered in excruciating detail, I can leave you with incontrovertible proof of my having been on the Emerald Isle. Or at least ofbeing able to find things quickly on Google Images. I present you with the greatest phallus symbol there is in all the land, located in downtown Dublin, no less!

A giant... thing

You didn't honestly think this post would include stories of merriment with friends in an exotic land, did you? If you did, you are forgiven. Come back soon, as I will have gone on a boat. In an ocean!

The Barbaridad

There's not much else to say really. That's it, game over.

As you have by now no doubt noticed, the streak of timely Sunday-updates has come to an end. There are reasons for this, and they can exclusively be spelled "working the f***ing weekend". If I were in the mood to elaborate on that particular point, I would spell it "working the f***ing weekend, starting at 06:00 on the Saturday and ending at 18:00 on Sunday". I would then be guilty of a lie of omission since I did in fact not work that entire time. In between, I slept, ate, and... balanced my checkbook? That I don't have?

So yes, this means that a) you should all be feeling very, very sorry for me (as is generally the case), and b) I can't even get away with the tired it's-still-Sunday-in-Hawaii line, because quite frankly, it's not. Let's just accept this and move on.

However, all is not lost! As compensation - there is always compensation - I had Friday off, and I have today off. Part of one of those days was spent watching a sporting event I had been unable to watch live - thank you, mighty powers of the great Intertron in the sky. Now I'm not a huge sports-nut ("possibly even a slightly smaller nut than most. Cashew?" - Queue canned laughter), but this particular sport I have been known to enjoy on occasion. But the mighty powers of the great Intertron in the sky saw fit to play a prank on me. Having successfully procured the material online, I set about watching it. And proceeded to be yelled at by none other than three separate Spanish people for about two hours. And I kinda enjoyed it.

Now, my grasp of Spanish is as good as guy who took two years of the language in high school and then promptly forgot all about it over the next, say, seven years. Not so good, then. But by the end of the event, I finding my way back to my old latin-lover self, which is basically just a warning to those of you who might be unfortunate enough to meet me in the coming week - just turn the other way and run when I come along screaming "Qué barbaridad!" and other things, the meaning of which completely elude me. I'm pretty sure that would be most people's gut reaction anyway, but I felt I should still point it out. Call it public service.

ANFSCD!

As filler for this post, I have a gorgeous anecdote about the process of moving to Japan. Back when the moving company said they were going to rise to the challenge of bringing all my knickknacks over - upon having lovingly wrapped them in bubble paper, surely! - they were nice enough to send me some documents detailing what I wasn't allowed to bring in to my future country of residence. These included:

Firearms. Which is a shame, 'cause now I'll have to put up my gun-rack in my new apartment, sans guns, at least until I can go out and get some in Japan. Is that hard? Memo to self: find out.

Swords. Now this seemed a little protectionist to me. I know they're all very proud of their swords and whatever, but what if I wanted a Swedish sword to... put in my gun rack, in liue of actual guns?

Pornography, or "other materials endangering public morals". Which is a great rule to have, and is also one that shows just how little people who make these regulations have gotten on any subway train in the entire country in the last fifteen years. Or been inside a 7-eleven. Or... been alive in Japan? Maybe it's another one of those protectionist things, I don't know.

Narcotics. While I don't have any snide remarks to make about this (wait for it!), it does remind me of those little green notes you get when flying into the U.S., where you have to declare you're not running drugs. Which to me just seems like overkill. I mean, if you catch a guy running drugs, do you really have to go after him for lying on his little green entry form as well, isn't he in enough trouble already?

Straw. Yes, because you see... What the hell?! Straw? Seriously?

Straw products. Because these are terribly easy to manufacture without using the active ingredient known as straw. So this means I can't bring my great big goat made from straw and then put it on fire at or around Christmas? What kind of a democracy is this?!

Yeah, so that's pretty much what's up with me. What about you? In what has become known as Kumadude-tradition, I shall present you with a picture of a road sign which leads to the place where - I believe - the people writing the above regulations sit. Or rather, their managers. And man, somebody ought to talk to them about the poor job they're doing.

If you need to manage your retardation, be sure to come and enjoy beautiful Tsunashima, home of world class retardation... managers?

Be sure to tune in next week, as... Do not make me have this argument again, I will stop this car right now, so help me, mister!

The Triple

Surely there must be some mistake. Three weeks in a row with a timely update? Things are... afoot? Rotten? All of the above?

When I leave my home, I have to cross a tiny metal bridge to get out. It's bit like living in a medieval castle, except that my moat is probably not more than two feet across and one foot deep, meaning my attackers would probably have little trouble gaining entry even if I went apeshit on the bridge and threw it down into the dark chasm below. It's also a bit like not living in a medieval castle since I've got far too little of both meed and the compulsory henchmen around. Knights and whatnot. Also, the insulation in this place would kick Camelot's behind any day of the week. Including Wednesday!

So yes, construction has come to my neck of the woods, and from the looks of things, it would appear it's here to stay. At least they haven't yet begun starting work at four in the morning. Yet. I bear no illusions that that state of pleasant laziness will last much longer, sadly.

Also, I just ran into someone who did something which was, for want of a better description, very "me". I was taking the trash out. In the very boring, very literal, very much not at all the Chuck Norris kinda way. As I approach the trash... building? Palace? Gendarmerie? Either way, approach it I do, and this lady comes from the opposite direction, also carrying something that my astute powers of observation immediately recognize as what the French call "garbage" in that wonderful accent of theirs. We exchange a perfunctory greeting from fifteen feet away, and arrive at the door almost at the exact same moment, me beating her by a couple of seconds (score!). As I contemplate if I should play the gentleman and let her in first or be my actual self and just forget about all laws of civil interaction, she walks right past the door, seemingly oblivious to the bag in her hand. I am quite baffled by this, throw my stuff where it belongs (remember kids, Kumadude's all about the recycling!), and as I am about to exit, she comes rushing in, throws her one bag, and darts out, leaving me to lock up. It was like she tried to give me the impression that "This is not garbage in my hand. I am not going where you are going" in order to avoid the three seconds of forced social interaction inside that shed, then realized it was a pretty childish thing to do and changed her mind.

When I said at the top it felt like a very "me" thing to do, this is what I meant, only I would not have darted back. I would have hopped on the train, rode one stop, and then walked all the way back in order to ensure nobody would be at that shed when I got back, so there would be no risk at all of any sort of social interaction. That's the worst kind of interaction, you know.

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Intermission!

Radio's come a long way. I used to listen to it wirelessly on my, uhm, radio. Now, I listen to it being wired through the intertubes, through my wireless modem which sends it the final ten feet to my computer, which in turn pumps it out through wires connected to the same speakers my dad got me for christmas all those years ago that used to fill the house with far too abnoxious tunes. Possibly Hits 4 Kidz 53. Anyway that circle, too, doth be complete. As circles tend to be. I mean think about it, a circle that's not complete? In all the ways that matter, it's just the letter "u" with a serious inferioity complex.

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Third subject of the post? Already? My, how time flies. But yes, here we are, about to broach the treacherous area that is photography. It is one of many things I am not very good at. My dad was a hot shot in his day, though, and I have friends (yes, it is an amazing enough statement all its own) that know their way around a lens cap as well, making it all the more painful I kinda don't. So how to fix that? Why the Internets, of course! And they told me several things:

A1) You should aim to take the best possible picture when you take the picture.

This seemed fairly obvious to me, so I skipped down to number A34b) (does that even qualify as a "number"?)

A34b) If all else fails, you can fix a lot of you half-assed mistakes in post production, possibly using a legally purchased license for a recent version of Adobe Photoshop.

But you see, that would seem to imply you need to know actual things about that program. Hmm. Once more, the InterTubes came to the rescue!

B1) You should aim to know actual things about that program.

B2) If you don't, here's a 14-step tutorial on how to make your crappy shot look like it's not quite as crappy anymore. And a bit like it was in a movie shot in poor lighting conditions!

So I followed the advice, and a mere 14 simple steps (the fastest five and a half hours of my life, I can tell you that), I arrived at a result. Which I shall show you! But first, just for the sake of argument, let's show the original picture, taken when I was Down Under with my good friend Dr Tiki and cohorts Caroline and Alexandra. Five points to anyone who can name the island. Hint: it is the world's largest sand island. (Master Class difficulty: no checking that link, or where it leads, Google/Wiki it yourself!)

The Original, complete with Land Rover goodness

Now, feast your eyeballs on the digital imaging revolution that is the result of... the internet's guidance:

The slightly not-so-Original, complete with way OTT vignetting effects

The reason I put you through all that? I don't... honestly... know. It killed a part of my Sunday, so now I'm having my revenge? Guess that's the part that's fun for me. Tough nuts, and all that. But to try and make up for it, I shall leave you with the following, which was snapped at what I am sure is the Shibuya branch of perennial favorite vendor of useless things, Loft:

Mobile ashtrays. Implying that they tend to be stationary?

Be sure to tune in next week, and see if I can keep the trend alive as I go for a record fourth straight on-time post!