Zombie Punch Does It Again

Some pics from my party last weekend - I'd postponed it for quite a while (about two months), but it finally happened! As in Amsterdam last year, the Zombie Punch was a great success: it knocked quite some people out, not just on the day of the party itself. Now, three days later, the party stink is gone and only a warm fuzzy atmosphere remains. Housewarming: accomplished!

Dark Whisky Techno Geisha

Last Sunday, I had agreed to meet Ikeyan to go jacket shopping for the dance show. Though that turned out as a futile effort, he did manage to buy shoes really cheaply thanks to a friend working in ABC Shoe Mart, and I - having finally received a long-awaited piece of plastic in the mail - managed to buy my Franc-Franc sofa, though the payment only worked using 2 installments. Since I'd been reckoning with 4 installments in my recent budget calculus, this means I'll be broke until February. No problem! Sofa = happiness > money. It's being delivered on Friday morning and I don't know if it will fit through my door.

A bit later, we met up with his ex-girlfriend from a year or so ago, who was tall by Japanese standards, and I realized Mark's statement about the consequences of living in Asia for a while - you grow tall girl fetish - is an unavoidable truth. I've only been here for seven months, but it's noticeable already. Anyway, she was a nice girl and a relatively strong drinker, though not very daring in thought and speech. We went to a yakitori place (first time for me). Food and beer were good, and around 10 we decided to head to another place for drinks.

All I told Ikeyan was "small", though I emphasized that it was not actually that important. He took us to a place around Sanjo, which wasn't that small but was exactly what I'd been hoping for. Special. No sign outside, it was on the third floor of one of countless buildings with bars and/or apartments in them in the narrow streets making up that area. Though we made fun of him for getting lost a couple of times, in retrospect it's amazing he could find the place at all.

After climbing the stairs to the entrance, passing another bar on the second floor that did have a sign advertising its existence, I figured this might be interesting. Having been to tiny bars in Kobe and elsewhere before, I knew that Japanese bars are more often than not plain cool, so my hopes were high. I was in for a pleasant surprise.

The only light in the place came from a bunch of tealight-size candles spaced about two meters apart, and the music was the kind of spacey hiphop I'd ventured into a bit recently, which just begs for the consumption of hallucinogens. Since it's so dark, there's no point in having a drinks list, so there is none. The place has an oblong shape with plenty of seating, but on weekdays (this was a Sunday) there's barely a soul. There was one person besides the three of us when we entered, and we moved to a corner where I was unable to see the bar area - our own little spacecave.

I only drink whisky on relaxed, special occasions, wishing to savor the taste, and this was one of those occasions. Free popcorn, which simultaneously did and didn't fit in with the setting. It took some time for relaxed conversation to come up, since we were tired and couldn't see each other. When Ikeyan finally did mange to break the silence, it wasn't too surprising - circumstances considered - that the topic was my field of study, what with all the beginning-of-the-universe stories and other abstract space stuff. So I had another attempt at explaining in Japanese what it is I study, and I think I did a better job than last time.

At some point, Ikeyan called his ex-girlfriend over and whispered something in her ear, why I couldn't imagine. Turned out that outside my range of vision (which barely existed at all in that darkness), a geisha had just entered the bar in full traditional outfit and was sitting at the bar. Since our experience with geishas was limited to seeing them get in and out of taxis in Ishibei-Koji street in Gion (which Lonely Planet claims to be "possibly the most beautiful street in Asia"), we kept poking our heads around the corner of our spacecave to see what she was up to.

Observing her change from not speaking to anyone to speaking very openly with the bartender, all the while with perfect posture...is the guy next to her her customer? But now he's leaving... Or is she waiting for her next customer? That seems likely, since you usually don't see geishas (especially in their formal outfits) unless they're at work. ... No one seems to be coming, though, and she's awfully chattery with the bartender. Okay, here's an idea ...

And so we managed to figure out by heading past her one-by-one on restroom trips that she had, in fact, come alone.

You must realize that I have no words for describing the change in the already fascinating atmosphere that her presence invoked. But since, gyaku ni (to use a Japanese expression), words are all I have, it's up to you to use your power of imagination and enter the realm of this particular story. To recap, it was 1 am on a Sunday night, with most people off to bed for an early rise the next morning, and we were in a black spacecave whose nature was revealed only by a rough Japanese fellow rising from the darkness every once in a while to refill our drinks. And then a white-faced geisha came in and sat herself at the bar.

We wondered whether we'd be able to strike up a chat, but I was definitely not up for committing a potential social sin by approaching her directly. After all, it's well-known that the only way to meet geishas is through elaborate preparations by a mutual acquaintance, and usually there's lots of money involved. But Ikeyan, being the awesome fellow he is (I'm happy to say we're becoming good friends), headed for the bartender and asked him whether it would be possible to talk to her. As expected, but still disappointing, the answer was no. Oh well, things are interesting as they are already, so let's just enjoy our evening the three of us, we decided.

A couple of minutes later, however, the bartender made a quick appearance, disappearing before he actually appeared, leaving us the words "it's alright". Um, what exactly? And behold, the geisha graciously enters our spacecave. I move over a bit so she can sit. Next to me. The four of us start talking, though we were so flabbergasted she did most of it, while the bartender (who turned out to be a friend of hers) brings us expensive tequila and CDJs a bit in the shadows. It's still Sunday night and we're still in a black spacecave, but now we have techno, tequila and the company of a geisha.

Not just any geisha, as it turns out. Originally from Yokohama, she came to Kyoto when she was sixteen, backed by her mother and opposed by her father, and followed the traditional (and only) way up the ladder towards becoming a geisha. From fragments of information, I was able to gather that she must be around 36 now, though I'm not entirely sure. 36 is a respectable age for a geisha, and since there are so few geisha around in this day and age, I thought she might have a lot of experience. Indeed, she wasn't hesitant to tell us all about it: "You're from Holland? I've never been there .. but I go on business trips now and then, so I've been to Dubai, Los Angeles, Paris and so on." Furthermore, she regularly meets with foreign politicians: "You know the G8? [last June on Hokkaido, with a preliminary meeting of foreign ministers in Kyoto] Yeah, I was quite busy around that time."

In fact, ever since I read Memoirs of a Geisha and some semi-classical Japanese literature which included geishas, I'd been very eager to speak to one myself, since among the many arts they must master (of which tequila drinking sure as hell seems to be one these days) is the wonderful art of conversation. I love conversation, especially good conversation, and I've become very aware over the past year or two that the latter is very difficult to find. So, having imagined a scenario like this (minus the black spacecave) a number of times previously, I was probably the most 'prepared' out of the three of us, and I was eager to make the most of this fantastic opportunity. Still, the combination of being trained in the art of conversation and consuming significant amounts of tequila meant any attempt of mine at feedback or questioning was like trying to jump through a waterfall without getting wet - she was on a roll.

I did manage to ask her things like what she does when abroad for business, since I couldn't imagine the tea ceremony, traditional dance and conversation (she doesn't speak much English, though more than her humility made me think) going off as smoothly in Dubai as they do in Kyoto. I loved her answer: before you set off for another country, study the culture of that country. Once you arrive, deal with cultural differences by compromising between the Japanese and the foreign culture. Thinking about it a bit more, I guess she wouldn't have any other choice, but it was still a wonderful moment of globalization to hear her say that.

She spoke in the friendly Kansai dialect that permits a level of formality in between the informal and the formal of normal Japanese, which fortunately I'm getting better at every day. And she seemed as much at home in our black spacecave as she would be in a tatami-covered tea-house room, all the while maintaining perfect posture and relaxation, pouring drinks and replacing burned-out candles. It was almost like the feeling you have when you know you're close to waking up and you're waiting for your dream to end.

After an hour or so, she found an excuse to leave us and sat herself back at the bar. I had some good spacey conversation with Ikeyan while the lady in our group crashed from the tequila, and the three of us left around 3 am. On the way out, we passed our new acquaintance at the bar, who told us goodbye and made me promise to bring my mother along to the bar someday, since she wanted to meet her. Despite the snow-white make-up, her face made it clear she was well beyond soberness by now, but her presence was still awe-inspiring.

I am very satisfied. Though deeply moved by this woman's presence, I was able to have a meaningful time with her, and though I can't find the right words here, I guess I was able to appreciate her in the way I think the Japanese people, particularly geisha clients, have traditionally appreciated them. A personal experience of a unique aspect of Japanese culture.

-

Two notes: 1. The reason why she was in formal outfit was because she'd just come from a party with foreigners (who I can only assume must be powerful people) that required the outfit - even geishas dress normally, normally, when they head for drinks at their favorite bar. 2. I left out her name because I have her name card but can't read it.

P.S. I said I had a wonderful moment of globalization there, sparked by her talking about cultural compromise. Though I love the practice of cultural compromise, I can't help but think that if made into a standard, it would erode the uniqueness of cultures as it exists now. Much as I idolize it and strive to experience it, I fear my utopian version of the cultural mishmash of the future - as beautifully illustrated in my favorite anime Cowboy Bebop - might be a dream never to come true. Your thoughts and ideas are very welcome.

Finallies Scattered Across Autumn

YES! I finally got it! That spine-tingling feeling running through all my neurons, muscles and veins at once! Though it’s never been gone, the move to my new place as well as dance and music have been sucking it out of me recently. I’ve been waiting for weeks for it to arrive at a time like this, knowing that it should arrive at some point, and here it is, FINALLY enabling me to write again! Of course I’m talking about INSPIRATION! That great evasive power which moves me to do the things that make life worthwhile... one of the elementary forces in my own circle of life: the cause and the effect, the product and the creator, the black and the white and all the colors you’ve never seen, the essence of my life force, and something that has a fascinating link to the concept of living in the NOW!

I was planning to give you a short list of contributing factors to the “why now (and not a week ago)?” issue, but after 208 words and realizing that I wasn’t even halfway, I figured I’d make it into the theme of this entry … so here we go!

Three days ago. I went to FrancFranc to buy a present for Nonchan’s birthday, and was extremely relieved to see that the 100.000-yen sofa of my dreams (one of those corner models that fits like 4 people) was still available despite being taken out of the internet catalogue. Even better, they tripled the amount of available colors, so, until my creditcard arrives, I’m stuck with the pleasant problem of which color best matches my apartment.

Three days ago. I finished my part of the choreography for Heartbeat Collective’s show at the university festival later this month, and it’s FUNKY! Can’t wait to have 6 people executing my movements. In 11 days, we need to show it to a judge of dance circle senpais in an effort to be selected to perform for the real thing on the 24th. Only half of the teams will pass the test, so tomorrow is a very important practice day. For the dance music heads out there, I went with that haughty naughty track called “Put Your Hands Up For Detroit” – for which I believe I owe Alexander Groot one.

Two days ago. I finished reading Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. After all these years of wondering what the hell that title meant, I now know that it was just waiting for the perfect time to drop into my life and help me further develop my own philosophy. There are two important things I got from this book. The first is a long-sought connection with someone else who shares my ideas about rationality, science and the union of the “classic” and the “romantic” perspective. The fact that that person, being fictional, wouldn’t qualify as “real” by all the classically thinking people doesn’t make much of a difference, as evidenced by this article about Japanese people who are serious about marrying manga characters. (Doesn’t it sound catchy though? "Come on, lose the 3D world already .. that’s so 21st-century!" - once again, Japan is on top of its game of pioneering the future and doing ridiculous crazy shit, and my growing sense of identity with this country allows me to say I’M PROUD OF IT!). Furthermore, in a fateful plot twist, I’m quite unconcerned with the insanity that that kind of deep thinking apparently tends to lead to (the main character completely loses it once and gets very close to a second disaster, but then there’s a sudden happy end), since I’ve gathered from various people that my old man had some serious brain discrepancies of his own, which fit beautifully into the picture.

The second thing I got from ZATAOMM (if my second band’s name wouldn’t already be Mindshaft Spirit Boots – making metal with Ari, Benkei and a Japanese chap called Taro since a month ago – I would probably make it this) is a decision to get my motorcycle license as soon as I can afford it. Cowabunga! From what I hear, it’s very cheap. Take this, for example. Something I’ve recently become aware of. Yet another advantage of living in Japan…did you think of this one yet? Here it is. ALL MOTORCYCLES COME FROM JAPAN. Well, almost. Anyway, they’re dirt cheap and there’s a terrific bike culture going on. Though I briefly wondered whether I should reconsider my idea that “bikers = coolness” after noticing that every other granny rides one here, I decided that it’s more entertaining to stick with the old thought…The Japanese are so cool! Honestly though, I already have a couple of friends that would be more than willing to go on long bike trips with me, and this is one temptation I’m eager to give in to.

Two days ago. I met up with Ikeyan and Nonchan for lunch, and to my very pleasant surprise we went to the most romantic café I’ve been to so far. Ikeyan found it online while looking for “good bread and coffee”. There’s no sign whatsoever on the outside, and even on looking through the undecorated windows I thought that it was just some family-run cardboard-box-selling business like the one next to my apartment. But no! Thou shalt look farther than thy eye beholdeth. It is in fact a bagel shop with exactly one employee, introspective music, photograph books about Tokyo in the 70s, the odd reference to French culture, a second floor with large windows letting in large doses of warm autumn sunlight, and delicious bagels (I went with fried pineapple/cream cheese, fried pork/cream cheese and something like peanut butter but made from something Japanese that is not peanuts). The specialty herbal tea (named after nearby Shimogamo shrine) was a delight, and I think I’ll have some good relaxed afternoons there this winter. Come to think of it, it reminds me a lot of winters a couple of years ago at my aunt Syl’s place. Same peace, same warmth.

Yesterday. Decided on the arrangement for the Jungle Mic song next in line for recording (starting on the 15th), and it’s getting groovier every time. Hung out at the studio for a couple of hours after practice finished – great atmosphere.

Today. Mail. I got a letter from my ISP today announcing the day – Wednesday next week - that my internet will FINALLY be connected. Despite 3 failed attempts at registrations and engineering works so far, I am kind of confident that this one will come through successfully. I also got mail from the University of Amsterdam – three copies of the monthly physics/math student magazine, this time containing an interview with me about studying in Japan. The effect of receiving an envelope with the UvA logo on it was very strong, and I could vividly imagine the NSA office and all the usual hustle and bustle back in Amsterdam. Reading that Wout and Joeri won the freshman-weekend beer competition also gave me a warm, fuzzy feeling.

Today. I finished my Anki revisions in the afternoon for once, instead of at 2 am like every day lately.

Today. I just finished watching the last episode of Great Teacher Onizuka, an anime that has done a lot for me recently, most notably helping me to feel at home in my new place since I moved about a month ago, but also filling me in on what it means to be a teacher, what it means to be a teacher in Japan, and the coolness of motorbikes. The trigger for writing this entry…Highly recommended!

Today. My keyboard bricked out on me again and I’m waiting for instructions from the distributor on how to ship it back for repairs once more, freeing me from the sense of responsibility to organize performances for Jungle Mic. I was very aware of the risk involved with an attempted firmware update, almost assuming it to go wrong, so the disappointment was much less than last time. But with a riverside gig on Saturday, a club gig on the 14th, and recording on the 15th, time is more pressing this time. Fortunately, my man in Tokyo seems to be on it.

So you see, as long as you have about twenty awesome things happening in three days, you'll be sure to find inspiration enough to write another blog entry. Let's hope the next one will be shorter in the coming.



P.S. For those of you wondering how best to hold on to inspiration once you’ve got it: If you care to tell me how you do it, I’d be very happy, since I think it’s a very useful skill for anyone involved in any way with creative work, art, performance, expression and so on. I can tell you how I did it this time (I actually use this method quite a lot), but I’m convinced everyone has their own way, so the disclaimer reads “I cannot take any responsibility for the sense of loss and boredom you get after trying the following. However, if you do achieve success by these means, you are required to send 2.5 kg of homemade brownies to me by next-day delivery express mail.” Haven’t had brownies in ages.

Finally, then, the magic formula that enabled me to continue writing more than one paragraph…

*drumroll*


Listen to Cowboy Bebop and Naruto soundtracks.

Alrighty, I’m off to give Misa her Jordanian bath salt! Have a GRRRRRREAT Tuesday night!

P.P.S. You can check out Jungle Mic’s site-under-construction (check out the blog! Japanese, but with pix) here.