parsons

i got into parsons!

the news is a bit delayed, but thank you again to everyone who helped me with my application, and those whose encouragement gave me the wherewithal to make my application happen this year, finally.

my request for a deferral was very politely rejected, but they said that next year should i decide to reapply, i simply need to send an updated CV and don't have to redo the whole application. although there is no guarantee for readmission, it's nice that they can keep my info on file so i won't be an unfamiliar name.

bathroom talk

i'll be frank.

on a normal day, i would say, going to a bathroom is a solitary experience steeped in muscle memory and repetitive custom so much so that generally, i would say that we take for granted the knowledge required to 'go to the bathroom.'

something that always takes me by slight surprise when i visit japan is the brainpower required simply to use a bathroom facility properly.

european style toilets are de rigeur in most homes these days, but if you happen to find yourself really trying to get a taste of japan staying in traditional inns or old world style yakitori (skewered chicken) houses, ladies, be aware that you might be squatting upon a glorified hole in the ground.  porcelain, yes, but it doesn't make that whole process any more graceful than if you were camping.

but holes in the ground have existed since antiquity- what really gets confusing are the seated toilet contraptions.  firstly, most toilet seats are heated.  i remember the very first time i realized this, and that the heat wasn't from someone else who had sat on the toilet for a very long time (to warm it, just for me presumably).  warm toilet seats at home inspire in me the same kind of disgust i have for standing in a shower or bathtub after the water has stopped running (my old roommates know about this well- and have complained about the lake i would make on the bathroom floor since i refused to towel off actually standing inside the shower). but no, out of courtesy or comfort for the sitter, the seat is preheated.  and now i'll never know how long the person before me was there...

many toilet seats in homes are covered.  not just the lid part, but i mean the whole seat.  at my grandparent's house, it is covered in a terry fabric, like a towel. think as you wish about this one.

we haven't even covered the basics of 'how to wash your bottom' yet. in public facilities in metropolitan areas, there might be signs inside each stall in english to try to explain to bewildered westerners that of course you should spray your butt with water of all different pressures and fountain shapes every time you go to the bathroom. i've never been in the men's bathroom, but really, there is a bar on the side of each seat- kind of like a remote control for some ride- with pictures of fountains for front, back, and a whole bunch of buttons i'd rather not press while seated for fear of some sort of surprise niagra falls emerging from the throne.

ok, and then, there are always two different size flushes, naturally, for different sized excrements. and then, in many homes, when you flush, there is a little faucet that sprouts water to wash your hands with, a mini sink of sorts.

in public bathrooms, many stalls have little stools or seats for children and babies. there are always multiple hooks for coats and purses, and most likely you'll find toilet seat sanitizer (with signs that say 'please push 5 times to apply cleaner enough') for you to sanitize the seat upon which you are supposedly going to spend some time with the bidet.

brain tired yet? not to mention, most everything is automatic and electronic, including a faux flushing sound that turns on when you start to go to the bathroom so nobody can hear your real tinkle...

don't you think you could spend eons in there? and how do we ever survive in the brash west without heated seats with remote controlled bidets and faux flushing noises? 

really, i don't know, because girls only poop roses anyway.

history

the kitchen sink at my grandparent's house in ishikari is a stainless steel basin facing a wall of deep red tile.  there is one small flourescent lamp that hangs overhead.

as i stand there, washing piles of tiny dishes, each with their own purpose, i think of the lifetime my grandmother has spent, washing dishes, scaling fish,  peeling turnips, soaking onions right in that tiny windowless space.

today, my sister interviewed my grandmother. on my brand new iphone 4s, i have what will become hours of voice recordings recalling history of places and times worlds away from what my sister and i have ever known. stories of living through the war, of bartering in the black market, of baking fish for the customers who stayed at the family inn, of hiding bags of rice in crevices in the cieling, of being one of the lucky few who could attend high school.

sometimes i love blinding speed, of being able to live life so spontaneously and so in every moment that i barely have time to think or mull.  i think my youth makes me excitable, impatient- and i get frustrated when i don't have the freedom to move with abandon. 

but being here, i get used to the steady pace, regular, calculated even- and realize that things still get done, and people still enjoy life. moving through space and time with this much specificity takes an incredible amount of grace, a particular grace that is difficult to pin down and that i have only found here in japan.

it is a different kind of freedom here- within customs, rules, boundaries, you can be free. the world isn't so big and unmeasurable. within boundaries, there is empty space, mu, and how we move through this space with grace becomes both your peace and also your life's greatest work.

customs: japan

things in japan / at my grandparent's house that really make you feel like you're in someplace other:

1// you can buy hot coffee and hot tea from a vending machine

2// you can buy normal food at convenience stores and have them heat it up for you- imagine buying a hot panini at CVS?

3// you take your shoes off to try on clothes in a dressing room, and are always given a face mask to try on clothes so you don't get makeup on it

4// you only heat portions of your house- the unheated hallway is used as a second refrigerator- imagine piles of tupperware full of perishable food, sitting in the hallway where you walk to go to yoru bedroom

5// you can see your breath indoors

6// you don't leave a tip anywhere, not at restaurants, not in cabs, not for a haircut

7// you only change the water in the bathrub (ofuro) every few days- it si used more as a hottub rather than a bathtub because you wash up before climbing in

8// bus drivers, salespeople, and anyone working in a service position has a very specific uniform.  imagine a bus driver in medford wearing white driving gloves? i don't think so!

100, japan

happy 100th post! i had something else in mind for 100, but being a bit incapacitated with lack of technology here in hokkaido, i'll save that for later.

thus far, it hasn't really felt like traveling or vacationing or going on much of an adventure yet- it is more visiting with family than anything else. the days are eat, sleep, eat, repeat.  maybe a bit of reading in there or going to the market.  i feel like i am catching up on eating and sleeping well, which is good.

ishikari is, in many ways, a desolate town; the people are resilient but the weather unforgiving. we have been seeing some russian people at the supermarket, and it doesn't strain the imagination to see that russia might be similar in many ways to here.

i thought about hopping on a ferry boat to russia, just to see what it was like over there, but it seems there is a lot of red tape for travelers and those small port towns aren't geared towards tourists (aka it would be a big problem that i don't speak a lick of russian, much less understand any of it).  so, that idea is tabled for now.

today, some relatives are coming to visit (atsushi, his wife and two daughters).  obaachan is preparing a feast- i think most of the photos i have taken in japan thus far are of food!

one thing i noticed both last year and this year is a sense of lack of the individual in japan.  i don't know if i feel this way because i am traveling with family and am around them all of the time, or if it is a result of the country and culture that i am living in. i suspect it is a bit of both.  it will be interesting to see how i feel once traveling alone.

by lack of the individual i mean: i don't feel as individuated, i feel like my own personal accomplishments or goals or desires don't matter much as long as they promote and don't upset the good of the collective, which can mean family, society, workplace, etc.  especially being female, i feel like the expectation of how i occupy space is incredibly different, and in a way, it would be unseemly to proclaim my individuation too loudly.  constant deference to others is a must, being female, a daughter, a granddaughter, and a guest.

it is pretty interesting to be reading the second sex while on this trip.  very opportune, i would say.

california

i'm back! these two weeks of recouping / funemployment in between my big trips have been perfect, and california has been a most gracious host.

the days since i said goodbye to the snow in boston have been filled with time to yawn and stretch, get hot at bikram, paint, play music, and eat.

i've had a lesson both with aaron redner (of hot buttered rum string band) and chen zhao (of sf symphony).  it was lovely to catch up with both of them and to so immediately be able to plug into the music scene here (like having a lesson in the bowels of davies symphony hall just a phone call away). 

i've been exploring san francisco a whole lot- it really is a very romantic city, which i don't think i ever realized before. i applied to an apartment in lower nob hill, and i walked around the neighborhood at night to check safety (perfectly safe!) and at the top of the hill, near the cathedral, you could see all the way down those steep steep streets right into the bay with all of the shimmering, twinkling lights below.  there is a little oyster bar on a nearby corner. can't you just imagine, sitting on that corner on a summer night, by the bay and the gentle lights and in good company and with good music?  just thinking of that makes me glow. i think i'm going to like living here. 

i really feel like i've come full circle, in a way.  it was definitely necessary for me to move far away, and get really confused and struggle and figure things out about myself and the world, as cliche as all of that is. of course we all continue to figure stuff out and struggle forever- but for now, coming back to california- i can let out a little sigh, enjoy, recoup, reconnect, and rediscover why i so loved growing up here.