I know I was going to complain about the economics of teaching, but it's kinda tedious, you know? Lemme just say you can either have profitable work as a teacher or steady work. But not both. At least, not with any of the shitty companies I work for.
Anyway, yesterday I ate lunch with a new co-worker. She's kind of a ditzy girl from Canada that's been in Japan for all of a month. So when she asked me for a snack recommendation I had no choice. I had to tell her to try Natto
She hated it.
An hour later she was still complaining about smelling it on her breath.
I was still giggling about it.
I guess this means I'm no longer a new fish here, huh?
30 June 2003
21 June 2003
A lot of people said you could make a lot of money teaching english in Japan, especially if you work freelance. And after a couple of months of trying to balance a couple of part-time jobs and a couple of private students, I think I'm starting to understand that statement.
Which is not to say that I'm making a lot of money. Dammit.
Your average Conversational English School charges somewhere in the neigborhood of $80 an hour for conversation lessons. I have no idea about alll the annual fees, renewal costs, or any of the other ways they jack up the price on students. And they do jack up those prices. For example, many schools use textbooks published by outside companies. You could buy those books at a bookstore (and depending on the book, that'll set you back something like $40 or $50 for a book and CD combo), but most schools require that students buy the book from the school, which tacks on what I'll presume is a handling fee of $110. Yeah, you read that right. For the priviledge of having them provide the book, the price jumps over 200%. Learning English is not for the faint of wallet.
Some of this has to do with the fact that full-time, foreign workers are required to be paid a certain amount based on the type of visa they have. That's a cost that these businesses have to recoup. But some of it is just charging whatever the market will bear. I have to go now so I can teach a private lesson, but next time I'll get to the breakdowns on that little racket, and see just what the deal is with making that long green.
Or not, as the case may be...
Which is not to say that I'm making a lot of money. Dammit.
Your average Conversational English School charges somewhere in the neigborhood of $80 an hour for conversation lessons. I have no idea about alll the annual fees, renewal costs, or any of the other ways they jack up the price on students. And they do jack up those prices. For example, many schools use textbooks published by outside companies. You could buy those books at a bookstore (and depending on the book, that'll set you back something like $40 or $50 for a book and CD combo), but most schools require that students buy the book from the school, which tacks on what I'll presume is a handling fee of $110. Yeah, you read that right. For the priviledge of having them provide the book, the price jumps over 200%. Learning English is not for the faint of wallet.
Some of this has to do with the fact that full-time, foreign workers are required to be paid a certain amount based on the type of visa they have. That's a cost that these businesses have to recoup. But some of it is just charging whatever the market will bear. I have to go now so I can teach a private lesson, but next time I'll get to the breakdowns on that little racket, and see just what the deal is with making that long green.
Or not, as the case may be...
18 June 2003
Would you believe I hadda go to the other side of the planet to wind up in a place where I could ride a mechanical bull? Yup. There's a western-style bar in Ebisu (which is in Tokyo). Granted, it may not be the most authentic western bar there ever was. The music was all club-techno and J-Pop, the food would have been about right for a Denny's, and their token white guy in a cowboy hat and boots was, in fact, from New Zealand. But they did have a mechanical bull. And every sunday they fire that bad boy up.
I gotta admit, it sounds pretty ridiculous to have tried riding a mechanical bull for the first time in front of a bunch of the most attractive of all my co-workers. But I have seen Stir Crazy about a half-dozen times. And I figured if Gene Wilder could do it, so could I. Especially after a wee nip of courage. Or two.
In history, there have been a number of famous bull riders:�@Tuff Hedeman, Cody Lambert, that guy Luke Perry played in 8 Seconds. I will never join their hallowed, and often bull-trampled ranks. After a quick 5 seconds I was tossed like a rather large scarecrow. But so was my manager, and he bought the drinks that night.
In the end, isn't that what's really important?
I gotta admit, it sounds pretty ridiculous to have tried riding a mechanical bull for the first time in front of a bunch of the most attractive of all my co-workers. But I have seen Stir Crazy about a half-dozen times. And I figured if Gene Wilder could do it, so could I. Especially after a wee nip of courage. Or two.
In history, there have been a number of famous bull riders:�@Tuff Hedeman, Cody Lambert, that guy Luke Perry played in 8 Seconds. I will never join their hallowed, and often bull-trampled ranks. After a quick 5 seconds I was tossed like a rather large scarecrow. But so was my manager, and he bought the drinks that night.
In the end, isn't that what's really important?
07 June 2003
One reason to live in another country is to experience local customs, right? That's what I told myself when I agreed to take part in a "go-kon." Which is a Japanese variation on blind dating. But in groups of six. The basic premise is that three guys and three girls go to an izakaya (a place to get drinks, lots of little dishes and hand around socializing) to see if any of them have any interest in anyone else. There is a definite up side to doing this sort of thing in a group. The fear of being killed by a total stranger is definitely less at a crowded table. If you're a little bored with someone you can talk to someone else. And there's no doubt about whether the people there are looking for a date or not. All things considered, it's a better than a standard, one-on-one blind date.
Which ain't saying much on it's own, but is meant as a compliment.
So I went to a go-kon with a guy from California, his friend's brother from Canada, and three girls from Tokyo. Even allowing for the language barrier, things went pretty well. I think I was even making a connection with Tomoko.
At least, until the guy raised in Canada (who was, in fact, Japanese and spoke both English and Japanese fluently) casually mentioned that he couldn't find the keys to his new BMW 7 series, which would be a problem because he had to drive to a party he was DJ-ing at in a club in Shibuya (one of the expensive/trendy parts of town) later that night. Did I mention his day job at a trading company required him to travel frequently between Guam, Bali, Thailand, Hong Kong and Fiji? Well, he did not long after the bit about the car.
Funny, somehow after that, the evening seemed to wrap itself up pretty quickly.
Even though there were a whole other set of social rules to try and remember, like who sits first, or where you're supposed to put your elbows, or your chopsticks, or that piece of gristle that you couldn't chew up, some things were remarkably similar. If I've learned anything from this, it's that personality is nice, honesty is important, but money is a lot more efficient, no matter what language you speak.
Which ain't saying much on it's own, but is meant as a compliment.
So I went to a go-kon with a guy from California, his friend's brother from Canada, and three girls from Tokyo. Even allowing for the language barrier, things went pretty well. I think I was even making a connection with Tomoko.
At least, until the guy raised in Canada (who was, in fact, Japanese and spoke both English and Japanese fluently) casually mentioned that he couldn't find the keys to his new BMW 7 series, which would be a problem because he had to drive to a party he was DJ-ing at in a club in Shibuya (one of the expensive/trendy parts of town) later that night. Did I mention his day job at a trading company required him to travel frequently between Guam, Bali, Thailand, Hong Kong and Fiji? Well, he did not long after the bit about the car.
Funny, somehow after that, the evening seemed to wrap itself up pretty quickly.
Even though there were a whole other set of social rules to try and remember, like who sits first, or where you're supposed to put your elbows, or your chopsticks, or that piece of gristle that you couldn't chew up, some things were remarkably similar. If I've learned anything from this, it's that personality is nice, honesty is important, but money is a lot more efficient, no matter what language you speak.
I went to Akihabara for the first time the other day. In case you're not familiar with the place, it's Tokyo's electronics district. If you wanna buy something that computes, renders, clips, reproduces, or takes AA batteries, you'll find it in Akihabara. If you're a gaget fiend or a toy junky, you'll probably feel completely at home there.
And it maybe had the most lopsided male-female ratio of any public place I've seen in Japan, and that includes the men's side of the public spa I went to. The streets were crammed with guys. The youngest I saw looked to be about 10, and the oldest had to be in his 70's. And most of them had exactly the same look: an untucked, button down shirt with the top two buttons undone over a colored t-shirt, worn-looking cotton pants, sneakers and a backpack. The exceptions were rare. The occasional salaryman on a lunch break or junior high student playing hooky were the only ones I saw to break the dress code.
Beyond the visual oddity of seeing so many people dressed the same way, there was a strange atmosphere in most of the shops. And by "atmosphere" I mean "like, you know, the gases you breathe and stuff." Most stores were stuffy, too warm, and smelled like a mix of tobacco smoke and musty air. Like an attic with inadequate ventilation. Or someone's basement room that they don't leave for stretches of days at a time. It smelled a little like a Fry's electronics store, and a little like one of those older comic book shops. There was a funk of air that had been through too many sets of mouths and lungs, and of shirts that had been worn without washing a little too often. Not a smell of sweat or dirt, but of something like human physical inactivity in a small, enclosed space.
Needless to say, it was neither a healthy nor a comforting smell.
That aside, there was a lot of really cool stuff there, and before I left I was able to buy a bunch of cool plastic robots and stuff that'll be perfect for my tiny, one window apartment that I rarely leave on my days off.
What?
And it maybe had the most lopsided male-female ratio of any public place I've seen in Japan, and that includes the men's side of the public spa I went to. The streets were crammed with guys. The youngest I saw looked to be about 10, and the oldest had to be in his 70's. And most of them had exactly the same look: an untucked, button down shirt with the top two buttons undone over a colored t-shirt, worn-looking cotton pants, sneakers and a backpack. The exceptions were rare. The occasional salaryman on a lunch break or junior high student playing hooky were the only ones I saw to break the dress code.
Beyond the visual oddity of seeing so many people dressed the same way, there was a strange atmosphere in most of the shops. And by "atmosphere" I mean "like, you know, the gases you breathe and stuff." Most stores were stuffy, too warm, and smelled like a mix of tobacco smoke and musty air. Like an attic with inadequate ventilation. Or someone's basement room that they don't leave for stretches of days at a time. It smelled a little like a Fry's electronics store, and a little like one of those older comic book shops. There was a funk of air that had been through too many sets of mouths and lungs, and of shirts that had been worn without washing a little too often. Not a smell of sweat or dirt, but of something like human physical inactivity in a small, enclosed space.
Needless to say, it was neither a healthy nor a comforting smell.
That aside, there was a lot of really cool stuff there, and before I left I was able to buy a bunch of cool plastic robots and stuff that'll be perfect for my tiny, one window apartment that I rarely leave on my days off.
What?
One of the things I love about Japan is that everything here is foreign; just about everything is strange to me. Of course, the flip side of that is that I must be foreign to just about everyone here. Case in point, a couple of days ago I had the singular experience of trying to eat a meal under the intense scrutiny of a one-armed sushi-bar owner.
I hope it was a nice change for him. He's the only amputee I've seen the whole time I've been here, and maybe for once, he got to be the guy who was trying to look without being caught staring at something he doesn't see every day.
I hope it was a nice change for him. He's the only amputee I've seen the whole time I've been here, and maybe for once, he got to be the guy who was trying to look without being caught staring at something he doesn't see every day.
What the hell kind of godless monsquitoes would bite a man on the palm? I thought the assault on my eyelid was bad, and I was right pissed when they put a big-ass welt on my forehead, but now they've gone too far. You can deal with itchiness as long as you don't touch it, right? How do you not touch with your hands?
I'll be enacting a new policy of restricting the borders (closing my windows, no matter how hot it gets), making the atmosphere inhospitable (burning a bunch of those "no-bug" incense coils) and poisoning their food supply (drinking nothing but gin and eating nothing but kimchi). We'll see who has the last laugh here. (Given that I'll have to be drinking gin for breakfast and eating garlicky, pickled Korean cabbage, I'll probably have to be laughing, no matter what happens.)
I'll be enacting a new policy of restricting the borders (closing my windows, no matter how hot it gets), making the atmosphere inhospitable (burning a bunch of those "no-bug" incense coils) and poisoning their food supply (drinking nothing but gin and eating nothing but kimchi). We'll see who has the last laugh here. (Given that I'll have to be drinking gin for breakfast and eating garlicky, pickled Korean cabbage, I'll probably have to be laughing, no matter what happens.)
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