Karaoke in this country is a proper institution. Try as you might, there’s no escaping its presence, and without a doubt, if you spend a significant amount of time here, you will find yourself trapped in a room full of people staring down a microphone at least once. My first time out, it was horrendously scary, not to mention I didn’t even have the comfort of being drunk to take away any inhibitions. But I managed to make it through a few songs in the end, and in the 8 months since, I’ve somehow found myself with a membership at one of the local chains and even kind of enjoying it. And this is kind of a big deal.

As I close in on the end of my first year in Japan, I’ve oddly been thinking a lot about karaoke and how it seems to have become one of the stranger avenues for personal growth I could have probably imagined. Someone once told me that they didn’t really respect anyone that refused to get up and sing. I think this is a little unfair, especially given that where I’m from, karaoke means getting up in front of an entire bar of people and not just your select chosen friends in a sound-proof room. But I do think that giving into karaoke and embracing the fact that you just can’t sing, is hugely bonding between the people that do it. Singing is a vulnerable activity, especially if you suck, and letting people take part in your joyous suckiness lends itself a certain degree of intimacy. Coincidentally enough, a new friend brought up his exact shared feeling about this today. We only met at New Year’s and have hung out once since, but he mentioned that it feels like we’ve bonded a little since we’ve already heard each other sing. We’re barely acquaintances really, but karaoke seems to have that special way of breaking down barriers.

This all said, I’m still pretty shy about singing in front of people, especially new people, but having a good group that continuously likes going with you even though you give them no real musical pleasantries to enjoy, is really quite comforting. Adjusting to Japan can be difficult at times, and the formality of life here tends to keep people at a bit of distance from each other emotionally. I never thought that something I found so uncomfortable could be the one thing that helped bridge this distance, but maybe the Japanese feel the same way too and that’s why they enjoy it so much. Unfortunately, this experience doesn’t really translate at home, where the bar full of people you’re singing to really just want you to hurry up and get it over with. Everyone you don’t know is holding it against you that you’re killing their favourite song, your friends just want some hilarious stories to tell, or you’re just one of those overly earnest weirdos that show up every week, motives unknown. In Japan, no one is holding it against you unless you don’t sing, it’s like a breach of trust to just sit there and listen and not sing back in turn.

I honestly doubt that by the time I leave this country that I’ll be a fully converted karaoke maniac, but I’ve definitely come to appreciate it more that I ever expected I would. And if it’s a choice between that and an onsen to break the ice with someone new, well, just let me queue up my next track.

There are a lot of other traditions during the New Year’s break, including the pounding of mochi, known as mochitsuki, which I unfortunately didn’t get to take part in this year but you can check out in this video:

Japanese people also eat meals called osechi at this time of year, which is basically like a bento box, but stacked and full of things like seaweed, soybeans, oranges and fish, each with its own special meaning for the new year.

New Year’s Eve is a pretty quiet affair. Most people go home to celebrate with their families and starting at midnight go to visit 3 shrines to get blessings for the new year. Our version of ridiculous partying seems to be catching on a bit, but it’s still mostly a sober celebration. I visited my first 2 shrines in the wee hours of the morning and the fortune I received proclaimed that my year would be ‘Lucky’. The comments were pretty general to say the least so I didn’t keep it and instead tied it with the other rejected fortunes in the hopes of something better. That said, I’m pretty happy that, even though I was drunk, the gods aren’t holding that against me and are offering me good things to come. I’ve had a pretty emotional and at times difficult 2011 that’s ever so slowly been picking up so I could really use a good year.

One of my friends suggests that the 48 hours of new years represents a microcosm of the year to come. By those rules, I foresee a pretty fun 2012, full of street meat, late night karaoke, and good music (there’s a pretty obvious statement if there ever was one). And maybe being a bit more content to stay put for a bit. Walking home barefoot at 6am, I felt a bit down, but if we’re still playing the symbolism game, let’s just call it a bit of purging of this last year and moving forward into the new year fresh. I’m not sure what kind of vibe this year is giving off yet, but it’s the year of the dragon, which is supposed to bring good fortune and power, so I’d like to think those Mayans were wrong and 2012 is going be a-ok.

And now I must get back to observing tradition by having another nap. Happy 2012!

A friend of mine lived in China for awhile and was often back and forth to Japan. I was surprised when he told me that he actually really enjoyed living there, particularly his feelings that, compared with the constant social structure of Japan, it felt really free living there and people could just do as they please and no one cared. Now having been, I’d say that’s a pretty fair statement. I liked China so much more than I expected to. It took a few days to get used to the fact that I didn’t have to follow so many rules of etiquette when talking to people and could actually just act normal again. Super refreshing. Yeah, it’s a bit dirty. Yeah, people are spitting everywhere and babies just do their business in the streets through some handy slitted trousers. It’s smoggy so sometimes you have to wear a mask. But damn if it isn’t also vibrant and lively and full of a lot more sensory experiences than you get in Japan on a daily basis.

And the food. Oh man, the food!  How good was it to actually get spice and a variety of flavours in my diet again! And dumplings/steamed buns galore, it was like a paradise. We could eat well for $5 a day if we wanted, which is essentially what it cost to get a good cup of coffee. For $5 you could also get a taxi a good half hour across the city. This country knows how to do value for money in some areas for sure.

I managed to hit up 3 cities in my whirlwind first visit: Beijing, Xian, and Xining. Quite a mix I have to say, so I’ll give you a quick summary.

Beijing: Coming into Beijing felt a bit like arriving in an Asian Toronto-LasVegas hybrid. It’s a pretty massive city so it’s great that taxis are so cheap. I had a whopping 24 hours here, so I decided to forgo the Forbidden City despite staying at a hostel right next to the east gate and instead headed to 798, an old warehouse district turned arts district. Full of tiny galleries and random art in the street, I highly recommend it. A quick stop through Tiananmen Square (it’s impressively big, weird and full of scammers) and the night market for some street dumplings, and I was off to the insanely crowded train station. China for the most part was much less crowded than I expected. This train station was not. Be prepared. Overall, Beijing seemed full of great food and highly liveable. Would definitely go back.

Xian: I got a bit more time in Xian, about 36 hours this time, and this is where I met up with my friend Caroline that I was travelling with. The terracotta warriors are slightly overrated but worth a visit (even more worth it if you bring something approximating a student card; driver’s licences and alien registration cards work great), but high season there would be hell on Earth. Really makes you wonder what ridiculousness you would command if you were named Emperor as a small child. Street food and the muslim quarter in Xian are tops and it’s a pretty manageable size city. The bird market has very few birds, and dodgy-looking massage places are probably actually ok (it may be dark just because they’re blind). Didn’t get a chance to ride a bike on the city walls but another time. Recommended stop.

Xining: Goddamn Xining. What a shithole this was. It seriously felt like the wild west most of the time. Rough, polluted, and full of hundreds of new empty apartment blocks just waiting for who knows what people to decide they want to live here. Gives people jobs sure, and maybe some false ideas of prosperity, but what a ridiculous waste. Xining is a good stop if you’re heading to Tibet to acclimatize yourself to altitude a few days before going to Lhasa, and the train is also only 24 hours vs 48 from Chengdu so that’s why we chose it. If you do make the trek up there, day trips are a must. There are some great sights nearby if you have  a bit of time, including some Tibetan regions outside of the autonomous area. It actually seems like a really beautiful and interesting area on the whole, one I would definitely go back to, Xining itself is just a bit of a low spot. It did have a great nightclub though, and probably the best (and cheapest) steamed buns I had all trip. Top notch muslim food, cheap massages, weird government-mandated (we can only assume) morning exercise for old people, and store inaugurations of fireworks in the middle of the sidewalk round out our time there. Oh, did I mention the late-night military parade of tanks, trucks of farm animals and propaganda floats? Yeah. Xining.

Despite all this though, China really surprised me and I’m really looking forward to going back. I didn’t have enough time there this trip to get much of a sense of the daily reality of the politics and the experience of the Chinese people in any of these places, but don’t let the stories and the politics scare you. It’s well worth experiencing for yourself.

Christmas in Japan is actually the season of love and Christmas Eve is the annual ‘date night’. This translates to special clothing lines for ‘date season’ in the shop, holiday ‘Power Spots’ to take pictures in front of (this year, a Roman fountain with hearts and a Santa hat on the statue), and of course, buckets of glorious fried chicken. Yes, you heard right. Apparently in an attempt to recreate the classic North American dinner spread, KFC has become the date night venue of choice, with couples pre-ordering bucket meals and reserving tables (I kid you not) for that perfect holiday feel. The grocery store does its own variation if you missed getting your KFC order in in time, and rumour has it McDonald’s is even trying to get in on the game. Greasy chicken aside, I actually think that Christmas being a season for love seems pretty appropriate and a nice alternative to the mass consumerism it can sometimes turn into.

I don’t have a date to go for a bucket meal with this year, but in a good combination of traditions, I’m headed to a friend’s place for a big orphan potluck, complete with roast chicken, but hopefully no radioactive green coleslaw. Hopefully wherever you are, you’re also all having great holidays with loved ones, and one of these years maybe I’ll even make it back home to celebrate with you.

Merry Christmas everyone! xx

As part of the Intense and Stimulating family, we have Numb and Spicy Hot Pot, which is nicely followed up by Cucumber and Blueberry from the Cool and Refreshing family. Not being a fan of blueberry flavoured anything, these were actually pretty gross, but the cucumber flavour might be one of the best I’ve ever tasted. Cool and refreshing indeed! The hot pot flavour is also worthy of seeking out, not numbing at all, but a good zesty alternative to BBQ.

The jaunt through Tibet proved a real dead zone for chips, but they’d probably have just been yak cheese flavoured and let’s be honest, no self respecting company should do that to a chip. But then came Nepal. Oh Nepal! Back in the land of spice, special Indian flavours started popping up, along with a couple American classics and one rogue Spanish flavour. The two Indian flavours were both masala based, but I’ve got to give the Lime n’ Masala Masti the edge here. I’d import a crate of these if I could. The pack I bought for the airplane didn’t even make it as far as the taxi.  Spanish Tomato Tango, a hopeful contender to replace ketchup chips in my heart, was a sad disappointment. A Dutch guy I met loved them, but I thought it was as if you’d poured fresh vinegar on ketchup chips, the tang was just all off.

All in all though, if you find yourself in Asia, they’re all definitely worth seeking out, and if you know of any other flavours I missed, let me know for next time!

A string of what appear to be naked little babies with man faces running across Kyushu, rope in hand. I’ve seen ropes used here for pulling portable shrines and ringing bells but I’m not really sure what this is getting at. Something symbolic representing the trains? Dunno. At any rate, these little guys sure are working up a sweat, their rosy glow tells us that much. Might be time to take a rest in the garden guys.

Things to wear on your head:

Class it up with a white ballerina swan headpiece or alternatively, class it down with a steaming shit-filled toilet hat (ladies, you can even put the seat down).

Food-related items:

If a creepy toast man mask isn’t up your alley, maybe a stunning octopus ball hat, complete with bonito flakes (or is it ginger?) is more your thing?

Of the somewhat racially offensive variety:

The gaijin costume. Maybe you already are one, but can’t hurt to enhance it with an even bigger nose and maybe some blue stick on eyes. Don’t forget your backpack!

Animal themed:

Ever had the desire to crawl inside a bear to keep warm and hibernate for the winter? (there are more of you than you’d think) Well, now you can, with a REAL PANDA suit! (Disclaimer: may not actually be real panda)

If wearing things on your head isn’t enough:

Swans on your head is so 6th grade. For a NSFW version, try the swan underpants, or even better, a golden faucet people will be wanting to turn on (or off as the case may be) all night.

One of several tranny options:

There were a few of these kicking about, but this was by far my favourite. You don’t even have to go to the trouble of growing your own stubble! Hot.

And then there’s this guy:

I’m not sure how inspiring any of this was, but it sure was amusing. For those still looking for ideas, I hope I’ve given you some new options to work with. Don’t be shy! Happy costume hunting everyone!

Fast forward to present day. Mt Aso, active volcano extraordinaire and home to the world’s largest caldera, is only a mere 2 hours away from where I live on Kyushu. One ridiculously rainy day a couple months back, some friends and I headed out on an ill-fated trip to climb this glorious beast and see the seething sulphurous lake first hand. We should’ve known better, but we were with a Kiwi, and they’re so enthusiastically nuts for outdoorsy adventure, we decided what the hell. What the hell indeed. As if clouds and fog weren’t enough, sideways typhoon-level rains soaked us within seconds of leaving the car, so it was almost irrelevant that the ropeway and paths up the mountain were closed. A few moments of standing around contemplating bottles of Aso milk later and we packed it in for the onsen.

Since then, I’ve been determined to get up this thing. Everyone goes on about it, coworkers seem to pop up there every other weekend, but every time I start to consider it, the weather turns and it hardly seems worth the cost and effort. This past weekend though, I was sure my luck had changed. The forecast was great, I managed to get up at the crack of dawn to catch the early train, and there was even a Shinto ceremony at the nearby shrine. It’s like all forces were aligning and this was the day I’d see my first volcano.

No such luck. By the time I got up to the mountain area, the gods of Aso decided they’d had enough for the day and started spewing out unfortunate amounts of sulphur dioxide and the ropeway had to be closed. It does seem a bit ridiculous as a tourist attraction doesn’t it? An active volcano whose crater viewing is at the whim of the earth and the wind, where the safety status can change in the matter of 5 minutes. ALL DAY. Granted, the Aso region is gorgeous. Being amongst a range of mountains like this is something really special. Their geography is so different from the mountains I’m used to back home, and perhaps all the more powerful being on such a small island where you can actually feel that this earth at one point rose out of the sea. Wandering around the valleys and hills, seeing the crater puff it’s smoke out to the world, it was still a pretty solid day out in nature. So focused on the prize though after the long trek out there, there was a lot of ‘Reverence to nature, reverence to nature, blah blah’ going on as I tried to console myself at my 2nd failure at this mountain. Any volcano zen I had left from the Iceland incident was long gone.

Further south on Kyushu, there’s a place called Kagoshima. It’s rumoured to be stunning and it’s high on my list of places to go. It’s local famous volcano, Sakurajima, you may have heard of in the news as it’s so active that it’s continuously spewing ash and is a very real concern for people living nearby. Thinking about this volcano in particular makes my Aso whinging seem petty and spoiled, which is disappointing to admit.

A friend recently told me that, in her country, their theory on Canadians is that being surrounded and dwarfed by so much nature is what keeps us humble. A lovely thought, but perhaps nowhere is this sentiment more true than here in Japan, a country of deep reverence for nature and a spirituality of mindfulness. When faced with a closed ropeway to see a crater, or not being able to go to a town because of ash concerns, it’s my obvious city kid reaction to get annoyed and complain about the trouble it took to get there. But we would all do well to learn something from the Japanese and learn to respect nature to the utmost while still enjoying it. Of course Japan lets you go see an active volcano that they may close the moment you reach the summit. It just kinda makes sense. It closes, but so be it. If you’re going to be zen about anything, this is it. You don’t see the Japanese throwing a tantrum about it, and neither should we.

The saga of Mandy vs the Volcanoes will continue. But if I keep losing, and I expect I might, well so it goes.

As a girl, I’ve obviously done more than my share of shopping and visiting fitting rooms. Buying clothes can be troublesome at the best of times, let alone needing to remember a few extra sets of rules to go with.  But such is the Japanese way. The first rule of trying on clothes in Japan, of course, involves shoes. After you’ve been in Japan awhile, taking your shoes off when you enter restaurants or bathrooms becomes almost second nature, but I didn’t expect that to extend to shopping. Apparently, in some cases, you should also be taking your shoes off when entering a fitting room. But not always. Confused yet? Here is what I have managed to determine so far about shoes in fitting rooms:

Rule 1: If there is a raised platform in your change room, shoes should be left outside.

Rule 2: If there is a special carpeted area in the fitting room, get em off before stepping on the carpet.

Rule 3: If the entire floor is the same (i.e. one level and tile), carry on, you can keep your shoes on this time.

It may not seem like a big deal, but you’ll get a lot of frantic gesturing if you don’t do these things, and nobody wants that right?

The second strange thing I’ve come across is the matter of a small cheesecloth-like bag some stores give you when you enter the fitting room. I’ve collected quite a little stash of these over the months for lack of knowing what else to do with them other than accept them politely then shove them in my purse. Initially I thought for sure they were for either my shoes or my purse given their long rectangular shape. But no. This is a bag for your head. Yes, you read that correctly, YOUR HEAD.

As a child, I’d always been taught to NOT put bags over my head. THIS BAG IS NOT A TOY might be the number one warning given to small children back home. Not so much in Japan. No, they want you to cheesecloth it up to protect their wares from your greasy hair and makeup. Understandable I guess, but is this really the only way?

Armed with this new knowledge, I’m not sure how my next fitting room adventure will go. The guilt of now knowingly shoving my head bag into my purse might get too much, so if I go shopping and you don’t hear from me for awhile, you might want to ask around. In the event of my early cheesecloth-related demise, my shoes outside the door should help you find me.