Kitagwa

Tano Stables

Andrew Wallace — Thu, 26 May 2005 05:28:00 +0000

Fun party at fellow show pony Ged's house a few weeks back. The short video I put together as a present is up on his website now.

You can download it here.

Whale Penis Adult Group Sex Party

Andrew Wallace — Sat, 30 Apr 2005 15:18:00 +0000

If my site's going to be blocked for being “Adoruto,” I might as well give them something to block me for...

In their wisdom, the fascist IT goons in Kochi seem to have deemed all the tens of thousands of Blogspot sites around the world - including mine - “Adult” (and I thought those pony photos were so innocent...) Access seems blocked on all Kochi government computers - including of course my computer here at work. Hence the long gap between posts. But I will persevere in the face of repression and continue to upload from home.

Ok... so there was no adult group sex party (whatever the board of education may think about my site), but there was a party and there was a very large penis. At a farewell party for a teacher in Muroto last month, I whitnessed a new standard in culinary depravity when a plate of sautéed whale penis was served up, much to the delight of all the Japanese present. Concerns about eating an endangered species and dining on an animal that was probably older than me aside, there are just some parts of the body that I hope to never put in my mouth. Call me gutless. I didn’t partake.

Otherwise ghastly whale intestines pale into insignificance next to the half eaten phallus on the plate behind.

Tropical Escape

Andrew Wallace — Thu, 24 Feb 2005 01:44:00 +0000

I spent a winter in Toronto once, but even though the temperature rarely got above zero, the centrally heated houses made it a cozy 2 months. Seoul can bitter in the winter too, but Korean houses all have in-floor heating (on-dul) which is hot enough to dry a load of laundry overnight.

Japan on the other hand seems possessed of a perverse obsession with the cold. Despite being one of the wealthiest countries in the world, none of the schools have heating, and houses seem somehow cunningly designed to actually trap the cold inside (except in summer when they seem to trap the heat), and none more so than my monstrous impossible-to-heat 8-bedroom ex-dormitory of a house. When the cold gets too much, I usually step outside for a walk, where it is invariably a few degrees warmer.

Fed up with shivering, cold classrooms and kerosene fumes, I decided to head south to warmer climes - Malaysia for a five day tropical escape in lovely Langkawi.

It was hard to come back.

Langkawi Photos

Ryoma and Snoopy

Andrew Wallace — Fri, 18 Mar 2005 01:39:00 +0000

At one time there were four primary schools in Kitagawa-mura, each with its own thriving student population. Now there is one, and with around 75 students, Kitagawa Elementary is not huge (there are only five kids in the sixth grade).

But with the massive depopulation that's taken place in the Japanese country-side in the last 50 years or so, for this area, Kitagawa Primary is a big school. There are schools with ten, five, even two students. But the cake has definitely been taken by a school in the mountains near here: Narugawa Primary School has a grand total of one student... and one beagle.

I went there to translate and take some photos for my friend Stuart, a journalist (though teaching English to 10 year olds for now) who's writing an article on the school. As you drive into Narugawa, the most striking thing is the almost total lack of people. There are just rice fields, mountains and narrow empty roads. The little township has about 100 houses, but more than half of them are now vacant, and the average age of their inhabitants is around 75.

The primary school is made entirely of wood, and is actually the oldest in the whole prefecture. Until last year there were 3 students, two of them brothers. But when the brothers got fed up trying to play baseball with three people and switched to the bigger school down the road, Ryoma was left on his own.

The school still has a principal, one teacher, and an office lady. The disarmingly friendly principal seems to have become something of a surrogate father to little Ryoma, who is being raised by his 80 year old grandmother while his father works (and gambles) in Osaka. His biggest concern for Ryoma is that with all his playmates adults (even the Snoopy doll is 24 years old), he'll lack the social skills to interact with kids his own age, or to speak out if he runs into problems.

And it is with this in mind (and surprisingly not for economic reasons) that later this year Narugawa Primary is scheduled to suffer the same fate as so many other schools in the area and be closed. The principal will be transferred to another school and Ryoma will have to ride his bike down the valley to the (only slightly) bigger None Primary and try to make some new friends there.

No one really seems to know what will become of Snoopy.

Narugawa photos

Naked Man Festival

Andrew Wallace — Tue, 01 Mar 2005 04:14:00 +0000

Most Japanese festivals are a time of kiminos and elegance, a time to celebrate Japan's rich spiritual culture, to connect with her ancient traditions (whether anyone can remember what they mean or not) and to relax with family members.

The Hadaka-matsuri is not one of those festivals.

For there is another more primal purpose behind many Japanese Festivals, namely that of wall to wall drunken abandon (albeit precisely defined and well choreographed) - to let loose with some ancient and ill-conceived maddness that would be otherwise unthinkable in the sober light of all-too-sensible non-festival Japan.

Last September was the Fire Festival in western Kochi, where a group of drunk men (plus sober me) carried a huge burning tree through the middle of the town, getting showered with red hot ashes all the way, and groups of even drunker men ran around with big drums starting fights with other groups of drunk men with big drums. No one really seems to know why, but they've been doing it for a hell of a long time.(Kure-matsuri photos here)

Last weekend was the Naked Man Festival (Hadaka-matsuri) in Okayama.

Even if the thought of thousands of all-but-naked men packed together like sumo-sardines and fighting over sticks did it for me (and alas it doesn't), the Hadaka-matsuri still wouldn't quite be the homo-erotic wet-dream it sounds like. But though it may not be kinky (or then, maybe it was...), the controlled chaos, the mass drunkeness and the apparent lack of reason, certainly all made for a quintessentially Japanese event.

It's done in the middle of winter in the middle of the night (that Japanese obsession with the cold again), and the thousands of participants (unfortunately all men) are clad only in fundoshi (the sumo-style nappy), and tabi (traditional Japanese socks). Contestants first run through an icy pond with a statue of Kanon in the middle,

then gradually assemble around the main temple, the sea of pink flesh surging in waves and occasionally breaking on the stairs in a torrent of naked bodies. Every now and then a line of police would charge in to try and contain the crowd or to carry an unconcious body from the fray.

At midnight, the monks throw 2 sticks into the mob and a million yen prize is given to whoever can get one of them out through the temple gates. But despite the thousands of punters, rumour has it that the yakuza team wins every year. I was too caught up in the madness to even notice.

Amazing though this mother-of-all-mosh-pits was, I can't say I regreted my decision to keep my clothes on. A few of my foreign friends did take part though and charged in balls-n-all, and while I've got nothin' but respect for them, hey... someone's gotta take the photos.

Naked Man photos

Just hanging out now for the ancient Giant Steel Phallus Festival coming up in April. Japan's got so much to offer!

Weirdoz

Andrew Wallace — Fri, 25 Feb 2005 07:56:00 +0000

The following is the rough translation of an article I wrote about Australia for the Kitagawa village newsletter. It was written partly in homage to an old Japanese TV show that was one of my favourites (infact probably the only one I ever watched!) - ここが変だよ!日本人! (This is Strange! You Japanese!).

This is Strange! You Australians!

When English zoologists first got their hands on a platypus back in the 19th century, they assumed that the Australians were playing a joke on them, sticking a duck's bill on the body of a rat. With its duck's bill, rat's body, beaver's tail, webbed feet, poison spurs, and eggs, the platypus is certainly one of the strangest creatures on the planet. But strange as Australia's animals might be, it soon became all too apparent that the human inhabitants down-under were often equally odd.

Unimpressed with the conventional Europe-at-the-top, Australia-at-the-bottom world map, the “Upside-Down World Map” was created. But in many ways, Australian culture and it's values can be as upside down it's maps.

Australian national pride has a lot more to do with losing (well if possible) or to sticking it up the authorities than with great victories or noble leaders, and to an Australian ear obscenities like "Bastard," "Bloody drongo" or "Get a dog up ya!" are more endearing than words of praise or admiration.

Achievements in the academic and economic fields are often overlooked or even scorned, but stories of a poor outlaw or a horse with a big heart inspire a great sense of patriotism. Surveys have shown that few Australians know the name of their first Prime Minister (he was a bit of a bigot, so it’s probably better that way), and almost none the name of their current Attorney General, but farmers who fight a losing battle against a land that doesn't seem to want them are given the highest respect. Great Australian victories in battle go largely unsung, while on Anzac Day we commemorate the battle of Gallipoli, our most crushing defeat. Few Australians can sing their national anthem through to the second verse, but a song about a homeless sheep-thief who drowns himself rather than submit to the authorities touches people's hearts. Australia is one of the most urbanised countries in the world, and her cities some of the most beautiful, yet Australian identity is inescapably tied to the harsh and unforgiving outback.

Stranger still are stories about Australia's Prime Ministers: Her elected representatives in the political arena, they also seem to have the uncanny knack of becoming representative of Australia's stranger and wilder side. Seventies Prime Minister Malcolm Fraser, though a strong and spirited politician, will probably be remembered more for an episode in Memphis, USA, where he stumbled into the crowded lobby of a hotel, sans-pants. Eighties Prime Minister Bob Hawke once drank 2.5 pints of beer in 11 seconds, earning himself a place in the record books as the both the fastest beer drinker in the world, and the most popular Prime Minister in Australian history. Nineties Prime Minster Paul Keating, famous for his biting insults and sharp wit, was once accused of groping the Queen. In reply he said, “I like the Queen... and I think she likes me too!” Australia also managed to lose one of its Prime Ministers (oops!), when Harold Holt went for a swim at the beach one day and never came back. No body was found and no national inquiry held, but the popular Melbourne public pool “Harold Holt Memorial Swimming Centre” was named in memory of the tragic event!

But weird stories and strange patriotism aside, and despite having personally chosen to live away from her fair shores for the better part of 6 years, I do still buy into the standard Australian propaganda that claims us the title of 'The Lucky Country'. Australia has some of the most beautiful natural scenery, highest quality of life, best beaches and keenest senses of irony in the world... and the people are mostly pretty friendly too (hey, Pauline Hanson's in prison now!).

Visit if you get the chance, but don’t forget to “Get a dog up ya!”

Singapore Stopover

Andrew Wallace — Mon, 10 Jan 2005 08:32:00 +0000

"People are too busy to appreciate their lives these days," declared the elderly Chinese gentleman in his perfect Queen's English, his even older and rather stately-looking Indian friend nodding in agreement on his wooden crate in the midst of one of the city's swarming shopping arcades.

But busy and multi-cultural as it is, Singapore must also be one of the easiest cities in the world to visit. There is Little India, which has the colour and curries of India, without the hassle of hawkers, open-sewers and beggars. There's the Chinese quarter (although these days it should really be the Chinese three-quarters), which has the food, temples and markets of China without the communist overtones or the communication barriers (I never did really get used to a whole nation of Asians all speaking near-perfect English, even among themselves).

And the city is clean! Cleaner even than Japan. In fact, cleanliness seems to be a national obsession, with hard-core legislation to back it up. Forget to flush the toilet and you're looking at a minimum $150 fine! Spit and you’re looking at at least $1000! Don't even think about chewing gum - you can't even buy it.

The subways are not only surgically clean and efficient, they also espouse philosophy: "Our life is frittered away by detail... Simplify, simplify, simplify!" was the Thoreau quote that greeted me on the electronic announcement boards of Little India Station on my first day in Singapore.

And if efficent subways aren't enough, the people also seem outrageously friendly. In Japan, though kind to a fault, people are rarely accused of being outgoing and chatty. In India, though outgoing and chatty to a fault, people are rarely without something to sell. Singaporeans seem to strike a happy balance between the two extremes: chatty and approachable without treating you like a walking wallet.

Indeed the city is so easy-to-use and purpose-built that the friend I was travelling with was prompted to call it the Esperanto of cities. And although not entirely without its own grit and charm, you can't help feel that Singapore is almost unnaturally neat and user-friendly, certainly lacking the raw earthiness of somewhere like Thailand.

Resting on a bench in the shade of a multi-national corporate skyscraper and gazing admiringly at the statue of modern Singaopore's founder, Sir Stamford Raffles surrounded by multi-coloured lions, it's easy to forget that Singapore, with its foreign-friendly tourist industry and chatty people, is a nation under an authoritarian regimen. Stalin, Mao, Pol Pot and Kim Il Sung have given dictatorships a bad name in this last century, but with it's green manicured gardens, smooth-flowing traffic, and crime and drug- (not to mention litter-) free streets, Lee Kuan Yew's vision of utopia does make one stop and think twice. And although perhaps big brother with his censorship and limits on freedom of speech (however subtle) would eventually drive me away, in the short and albeit superficial three days I spent there, I found myself quite fond of this buzzing little metropolis.

And contrary to popular opinion, three days was not enough.

Singapore photos

Babel Fish

Andrew Wallace — Mon, 07 Feb 2005 07:47:06 +0000

The young couple where you have gotten married exactly was in the continuation of newly-married travelling of the wedding night. That they took clothing because of the bed, simultaneously, the husband who is the largely powerful person puts that pants and was said the throwing which is, "in here in that bride these. "

Put in place she those, the west two degrees in size in her body was. "As for me unless it can learn your pants," she said.

"The right! ! "Is, it was the husband," you forget that or. As for me this family pants ! "

That it is the person who has been attached to the body she him repels her panty, is said," try these. "Tries he those, can find and those cannot get near to only that kneecap.

He called to your panty, "the hell, me it is not possible to enter,!

"Is she the right, as for that you are ugly the attitude where! "Until it changes, being the method of doing a certain thing," saying

Have you ever wondered what would happen if you plugged some English into some translating software, translated it into Japanese then translated right it back into English? This is it, courtesy of AltVista's Babel Fish (try it yourself).

Some people have said that before long, technology will eliminate the need for human translators and for language teaching.

I don't think I'm quite out of a job yet...

ps. The passage was a joke. Just in case you didn't get it, here's the original:

A young couple, just married, were in their honeymoon suite on their wedding night.

As they undressed for bed, the husband, who was a big burly man, tossed his pants to his bride and said, "here put these on."

She put them on, and the waist was twice the size of her body. "I can't wear your pants," she said.

"That's right!!", said the husband, "and don't you forget it. I'm the man who wears the pants in this family!"

With that she flipped him her panties and said, "try these on." He tried them on and found he could only get them on as far as his kneecap.

He said, "Hell, I can't get into your panties!"

She said, "That's right, and that's the way it's going to be until your damn attitude changes!"

Earthquake Man

Andrew Wallace — Tue, 25 Jan 2005 06:27:57 +0000

Discussions about earthquakes in Kochi-prefecture rarely have room for conditionals. Statements like "IF there were a big earthquake," "IF your house should fall down," or "IF a tsunami came," are replaced by "WHEN the big earthquake hits and your house falls down, head for the hills because the tsunamis ARE on their way!"

Results of the last big earthquake in Kochi, 1946

So certain is a big earthquake in the region that it already has a name. It's called the Nankai Earthquake, and its magnitude will be around 8.4 (compared to 7.3 for the Kobe earthquake). Muroto - just down the road - can expect tsunamis of about 12 metres (compared to the 5 metre waves that devastated the coastlines of Thailand, Sri Lanka and India in December). My house should be safe from tsunamis (I think...), but when the dams burst upstream, there will be tsunamis from both directions. Not an entirely pleasant thought.

The Nankai earthquake strikes about once every 100 years, and given that the last big quake was only 59 years ago, the chance of it going off in the next year or two is tolerably slim (10% chance in the next 10 years). But stretch that timeline out to 50 years and the odds rise to about 80%. It's scary to think that all of my Japanese friends here in Kochi will more than likely experience it in their lifetimes. My supervisor seems to live in fear of it, mumbling how he wishes he lived in Australia. I tell him we may not have earthquakes, but that we do have bushfires. But we both know it's not the same thing, and that Japan's deep-seated fear of earthquakes is not without good reason.

Photo of modern Kochi and the same photo taken right after the 1946 quake knocked down the city then swallowed it up with tsunamis (click for bigger size).

But as Japanese as the fear of earthquakes and tsunamis may be, even more quintessentially 'Japanese' is the act of turning them into cute cartoon characters. Kochi-born cartoonist Takashi Yanase, creator of the now legendary Anpanman - the superhero who feeds hungry kids with his red-bean bread head (I went to his museum last year - a couple of photos here) - has done the impossible. He succeded in making even the horror of natural disasters cute.

The heroes are 'Countermeasure-boy' (top-right) 'Help-girl' (next to him) 'Guidance-guy' (bottom-right) and the Proff. But cute as the heroes may be, it's mean old 'Earthquake-man' (top-right) and his sidekick 'Tsunami-man' (bottom-left) that steal the show.

Those are two cartoon-characters I never want to meet!

School Lunches and Surgical Masks

Andrew Wallace — Fri, 26 Nov 2004 05:51:24 +0000

Lunch-time at Kitagawa primary school is always one of those “We're not in Kansas anymore, Toto!” moments.

photo by Ged

Lunch at primary school back home was generally a matter of finding a free bench and wolfing down a couple of sandwiches before getting stuck into the more serious business of some low-down and reckless playing.

Lunch at Kitagawa Primary is a complex series of rituals that would give a Master Mason a head spin. Here’s the basic rundown:

At 12:30, 3rd, 4th and 5th graders file into the Dining Hall in white aprons, white hats and white surgical masks.

With chopsticks and ladles, they divide the day’s menu (chosen months in advance by the school nutritionist) proportionally among the members of each table, serving-sizes determined by age and indicated by colour-coded tags on top of each milk-bottle.

When the food is served and the third, fourth and fifth graders are seated, a buzzer is rung by a chosen representative and a red flag is waved.

Remaining students file into the room and silently take their seats.

Another student representative at the front of the room goes through the day’s menu on the board with a wooden pointer, briefly explaining the nutritional balance of the meal by indicating on a large diagram the food groups each menu item falls into.

Surgical masks are removed and placed in the apron’s front pocket.

The clock is consulted and the time by which meals must be eaten is set and announced - 20 minutes, to the minute, from time of announcement.

Everyone bows and says in unison “ittadakimasu”.

Meal is eaten.

Buzzer is sounded at set end time.

Everyone bows and says in unison “gochisosamadeshita”.

Representative asks each table for their report.

Each group’s representative stands in turn and announces the number of table members who failed to meet the weekly and monthly lunch-time objectives (this week was “Not stuffing one’s mouth with food” and this month was “Finishing the meal in the given time”).

Numbers of those who failed to meet the objectives are recorded on a large poster at the front of the room.

Tables with a perfect record for that day are applauded.

A card with a green circle is held up if numbers are within acceptable parameters, and card with a red cross if not.

Bowls, plates and utensils are stacked and returned, tables wiped, chairs stacked and floors swept.

Table members stand to the side of the table as a student inspector comes to each table in turn to check that clean-up has been completed satisfactorily.

If the table is given the ok, group members bow to each other and say in unison “owarimashou” (“let’s finish”).

Everyone exits room and returns their aprons and surgical masks to their respective rooms.

Students race outside and get stuck into the more serious business of some low-down and reckless playing.

A military commander would envy the efficiency on display here.

But let me not give the impression that the kids are just cold-hearted soulless robots. Despite the strangeness of their ritual lunches, and as cynical as I'd like to be, the truth is that I couldn't imagine a nicer and more thoughtful group of robots anywhere.

But seriously... they are great kids. I don't think there's a bad egg or bully among them. Whenever any of the kids see me around the village they always smile and shout out "Andoryu, Andoryu!" The bolder ones run up to give me a high five or a massage(!), or point out for the 10th time that day how tall I am, and try to jump up and touch the top of my head.

For all their insistence on procedure and uniformity, I have to admit it does seem to produce uniformly good-natured kids. This year for Xmas, it'll be white aprons, surgical masks and stopwatches all round...

Curry Toothpaste and Oyster Ice-cream

Andrew Wallace — Fri, 17 Dec 2004 04:11:54 +0000

If you thought corn, potatoes and mayonnaise on pizza was a little too strange to stomach, read no further!

In the West the line between sweet and savoury is a clearly delineated one. Dessert is one thing; eel, eggplant and raw horse meat is most certainly another. But in the East, this age-old sweet/savoury divide is regularly flaunted, and often with the most ghastly of results.

This cultural gap was never more apparent than when I took some students of mine to a Ben and Jerry's in Seoul for some Chunky Monkey, New York Fudge Brownie and Cookie Dough ice-cream (if you're unlucky enough to live in a country without one, Ben and Jerry's is surely up there with the best ice-cream in the world). One of the students pulled out a pack of prawn-crackers, and with squeals of delight, all the students began scooping up the ice-cream with their crackers! I'd never felt so far from home...

But prawn-crackers and Chunky Monkey is only the beginning, and it is surely in Japan that this blurring of divisions has been taken to its most alarming extremes.

Mint. Spearmint. Peppermint. Until now, the range of toothpaste flavours has been monotonously minty. But this minty monopoly is finally over. How about spicing up your brushing with some Indian Curry Toothpaste? Or sweetening your breath with the White Peach? Japanese brand Margaret Josephin has released a range of 31 alternative toothpaste flavours, one for each day of the month:

Sweet Salt, Tropical Pineapple, Peppermint, Fresh Yogurt, First Crop Green Tea, Rose, Monkey Banana, Honey, Kiwifruit, Cafe au Lait, Plum, Tsugaru Apple, Vanilla, Indian Curry, Strawberry, California Orange, Kyoto Green Tea, White Peach, Kisshu Ume, Lavender, Darjeeling Tea, Cinnamon, Budou (grape), Lemon Tea, Bitter Chocolate, Blueberry, Caramel, Espresso, Grapefruit, Pumpkin Pudding, Cola*

Cakes are another of these fusion food hot spots. Last night I watched a show on TV all about "Fushigi-na Keki" - Strange Cakes. Featured cakes included Abalone Cake, Eel Cake and Natto Cake (natto is rotten soy beans, and must surely beat durian for the title of worst-smelling-food-in-the-world), and none of them were savoury (I believe the Eel Cake was chocolate!)

But the king of weird food must certainly be Japanese ice-cream. Brace yourself for what is surely the vilest ice-cream ever made: "Raw Horse-Flesh Ice-Cream".

There's also Goat (and no, that's not just the milk!), Wasabi, Cactus, Octopus, Prawn, Oyster, Eggplant and Whale Meat flavours, to name a few. If you've got a strong stomach, you can check out all the awful flavours by clicking here.

In all fairness, many of these things are almost as repulsive to an average Japanese person as they are to me. But then again, there's must be a market for these sins against sweetness here somewhere.

*I don't think these toothpastes are available outside of Japan, but if you just have to try the Bitter Chocolate or the First Crop Green Tea, let me know and I can try to ship some out to you (210 yen each).

Just a Little Country Boy

Andrew Wallace — Tue, 21 Dec 2004 18:09:27 +0000

The neons are brighter, the subways busier, the high-school girls' miniskirts shorter, and the giant buddha bar restaurants more giant than anywhere in the world. Tokyo is certainly an amazing place. Everywhere and everyone is so young and fashionable that Derek Zoolander would look like a bum, and the whole city is so wired that I felt like prescribing it Ritalin.

It was like a giant candy store for this little rice-paddy country boy from Kochi. In my three days in the capital, I climbed a skyscraper in Roppongi, caught up with friends in Takadanobaba, ate shabushabu in Harajuku, saw some live rock in Shibuya, hung out with a band in Shinjuku, Christmas shopped in Ikebukuro, and got lost in Tokyo Station. It was hard to whipe that bucolic awe-struck look off my face. In Kitagawa the most happening place is the Retirement Centre and dressing up means wearing something other than slippers. Tokyo was all a bit overwhelming. My supervisor had warned me. He was kind enough to drive me to the airport for my 'business trip,' and he told me he thought I was brave going to Tokyo alone. He'd been there once - about 16 years ago, got lost and never wants to go back.

It is an easy city to feel lost in! Estimates put the population of greater Tokyo at around 34 million. That's about 1.6 times the population of the whole of Australia, and 22,065 times that of Kitagawa! And that mass of humanity is not idle. Central Tokyo is said to have about 80,000 restaurants (compared to London's 6,000 and Kitagwa's one), and no one's ever even tried to count the bars. Single train stations in Tokyo are bigger than whole cities in some countries. It took me more than half an hour to just walk between lines at Tokyo Station (and that's when I didn't get lost), and Tokyo Station is by no means to biggest. Shinjuku Station is the busiest in the world, with about 3 million passengers passing through its gates each day.

Back home in the rice-paddies again now. Kitagawa doesn't have a train station. It does have a bus. The bus comes twice a day. It's empty most of the time.

Phew... It's good to be back...

click to Tokyo photo gallery

Art of the Almost Useless

Andrew Wallace — Mon, 29 Nov 2004 01:01:48 +0000

Chindogu (珍道具) - the art of the almost useless invention. With a cult-like following in Japan and growing world-wide, Chindogu are largely the brainchildren of Kenji Kawakami. Fed up with Japan's obsession with convenience (case in point here), these "unuseless inventions" are his subtle protest against modern consumerism. Whatever the reasons, they always crack me up.

Baby Mop
make him earn his keep

Earring Safety Net
never lose an earring again

Personal Rain Collector
free rain!

Solar-Powered Torch
when broad daylight just isn't enough

Portable Crosswalks
cross the road in safety - anywhere!

Hold-It Helmet
don't waste your day watching the road

Umbrella Tie
ready for rain and looking sharp

click here for more almost useless inventions
and here for full article on Chindogu

Need a lap?

Andrew Wallace — Thu, 16 Dec 2004 01:22:09 +0000

A little lonely this Christmas? Need a shoulder to cry on? A lap to rest your head? Japanese ingenuity to the rescue again!

Introducing the "Lap Pillow". Made of foam and selling for about 10,000 yen (US$85), this life-like woman's lap is just the thing to relieve the lonely Christmas blues.

As Mitsuo Takahashi of the manufacturer Trane KK, points out, the Hizamakura, or lap pillow, fulfills a primal need. "From the time people were kids, people have laid their heads on their mothers' laps to get their ears cleaned," he said.(!!)

But single ladies needing a snuggle needn't feel left out either. Introducing the "Boyfriend Arm Pillow". Guaranteed not to snore, drool or run of with a younger woman this friendly pillow with a price tag of 8000 yen (about US$76) consists of a stuffed headless torso and an arm to curl around the user.

The Serbian Ambassador's Daughter

Andrew Wallace — Thu, 02 Dec 2004 06:43:58 +0000

Chaired the international conference on sustainable global development. Met with the minister of education to give him – and in no uncertain terms – my views on reforming the Japanese education system. Negotiated the release of 12 foreign nationals caught up in a week-long hostage crisis. Translated an international trade agreement that promises to bring Japan's slumbering economy out of the doldrums. And still found time enough to accept the advances of the visiting Serbian ambassador's rather foxy daughter. A fairly routine day in the life of a CIR at Kitagawa village. And all this before I even woke up...

It's a flash sounding title, but truth be told, a delightful but vanishing little rural village of 1550 in a far flung corner of the least developed of Japan's four big islands seldom has need for a 'Coordinator of International Relations.' The rice paddies outnumber the people about 4 to 1 and other than my predecessors and a couple of Filipino 'hostesses' there's scarcely been a foreign visitor in living memory. There just isn't much need for someone with my job description. Alternative, and altogether more accurate job titles would be 'Token White Villager,' 'Entertainer of Children,' or my personal favourite, 'Show Pony.'

thats me with the pretty mane

But I can't complain really. I'm well groomed, the stable hands are gentle (if the reigns a little short at times), and the hay is good.

-- Signing off for today, a well-fed pony, secretly pining for open pastures.

Silent kono Yoru

Andrew Wallace — Wed, 01 Dec 2004 05:39:21 +0000

Attempts at "internationalisation" this week extended to passing around different versions of Silent Night written out in 10 different languages and having the kids to try and pick the country. Arabic and Zulu were my favourites, but there are even Klingon and Tolkien Elvish translations out there (link)! Some people have even more time on their hands than me...

Click here to listen to the first verse of the Japanese version (Kiyoshi kono Yoru) in mp3 - sung by 1st grade kids.

きよしこのよる
Kiyoshi kono Yoru

きよしこの夜　星は光り
Kiyoshi kono yoru hoshi wa hikari
救いの御子は　まぶねの中に
sukui nomiko wa mabune no naka ni
眠りたもう　いとやすく
nemuri tamo-o. itoyasuku.

A-bombs and Okonomiyaki

Andrew Wallace — Mon, 22 Nov 2004 08:52:17 +0000

I cremated my oldest daughter Naoko (three-years-old). The tears flowed without stopping. 'You go first, I'll follow you!' I joined my hands in prayer.
My second son Tatsumi (nine-years-old) was still missing. I prayed that he had fled to safety somewhere.
As she burned, the oil in her body gradually flowed out. A huge amount, what a healthy child! So piteous! I couldn't stand to watch, I thought I would go crazy. How could this be the real world? It was hell....
I have continued to live for 30 years feeling guilty towards my two dead children. Forgive me! I didn't keep my promise, a parent's responsibility. (I didn't have the courage).
--Tamaki Ishifuro (35 at time of bombing, 65 at time of drawing)

Not many people leave the Hiroshima Peace Museum smiling.

ok, so Stuart may have been blinking rather than blubbering... but it was still disturbing

Though we couldn't have asked for better weather on our trip, the irony is that it was precisely the fine weather and clear skies on 5 August 1945 that sealed Hiroshima's fate, and made it's name synonymous with the horror and inhumanities of modern warfare. With an unprecedented 2.2 billion dollars already invested in the Manhattan Project, the US military would settle for nothing less than a clear and unobstructed view of the effects of their latest toy. A few clouds in the sky and it might just have been another Japanese city that ushered in the nuclear age that day. But Hiroshima was chosen, and the rest is history.

We spread our visit to the Peace Park and Peace Museum over 2 days, but it was still pretty overwhelming. This is no sugar-coated version of the events. There are pictures of victims bodies with the patterns on their kimonos etched into their skin; a photo of a little girl lying in a makeshift hospital, her eyes melted by the blast and her face burnt beyond recognition; a life-size diorama with wax models of a mother and her two children burning in the aftermath, their skin melting off their arms; a 13-year-old boy's steel lunchbox bent and warped in the extreme heat, the carbonised remains of his uneaten lunch still inside (his mother found his body lying on top of the lunchbox, still clutching it in his hands). Outside in the park are monuments everywhere to those who died as a result of the blast. There is the Children's Monument dedicated to Sadako who folded paper cranes while dying in hospital of leukaemia.

There is a somewhat belatedly erected monument to the Koreans who died in the blast (largely working in Japan against their will). (click for image)

And there is the park's centrepiece – the A-dome – the skeletal remains of a government building, preserved lest we ever forget what happened.

But the truth is that other than the Peace Park and the A-dome there are few reminders left now of Hiroshima's horrific past. Hiroshima today is a thriving metropolis, and as much as it symbolises mankind's capacity for destruction, equally now it must also symbolise mankind's capacity for survival and rejuvenation. Roads that once served as mortuaries for the hundreds upon thousands that died are now paved-over and bustling with traffic. City blocks that were once nothing but tortured rubble are now filled with high-rises, neon lights and "Delivery Love Rooms".

Where once there was a city with nothing left but despair, now there are nightclubs with Hiroshima's friendly youth bouncing to Brit-pop.

And where once there was radiation and starvation, now there is okonomi-yaki (sometimes called a Japanese pancake, though that hardly does it justice). I recommend the pork...

click to hiroshima photo gallery

All polar bears are left-handed

Andrew Wallace — Fri, 12 Nov 2004 13:00:48 +0000

Six reasons to start a weblog:

All polar bears are left-handed.
A crocodile cannot stick its tongue out.
A cockroach will live nine days without it's head, before it starves to death.
Elephants are the only animals that can't jump.
The Earth is slightly egg-shaped.
A pig's orgasm lasts for 30 minutes!!!

There is only so much of this kind of stuff that anyone one person should know. I do like my job (no, really!), but it does occasionally leave me with an unhealthy amount of free time (though admittedly I've been quite busy lately). Some people might study for a masters degree, work on a charity for underprivileged children or set up a water-tight investment portfolio. All I have to show for it is a stiff neck, an encyclopaedic knowledge of useless information, a fine set of glow-in-the-dark Dracula fangs (Halloween party I organised for the kids), and a brooding resentment that I wasn't born a pig.

Starting a blog won't exactly get me a Nobel Prize, but at least it should keep me productive. Hope you enjoy...