I've long since become used to the total abuse and bastardization of the English language in Japan. Particularly, rarely am I shocked anymore by the silly slogans and grotesque grammar plastered across so many pop t-shirts. Too many to name, such witless and quasi-sensible blurbs would only draw ridicule in any English-speaking nation. As I said, rarely am I blown. But this morning's t-shirt took the cake:
On the train to work, I spot a young (Japanese) guy with a white tee with a big, black letter "I," followed by a red heart, placed over a baby blue jersey-scripted word, "GHETTO" = "I LOVE GHETTO" wtf.
Maybe I blinked once or twice when I saw the shirt. It was hard for me to muster a facial reaction, as I've become so de-sensitized to such absurdities. I looked at the guy's face, and he looked like a person who had utterly no clue what the words scrolled across his chest meant. What could this guy possibly know about a ghetto, not to mention "love" about one? I come from a city full of them, and I don't even love the ghetto. I mean, I liked Good Times and all, and I love Black people, but I ain't never claimed to love no ghetto. Sheesh.
There should be a law against the inanity which abounds across some of these Japanese t-shirts. Who makes this stuff? They need to be taken somewhere and...have something not nice done to them.
And yesterday on the ride home from school, I saw a couple of my former students who are now first-year students in high school (sophomores), Misuzu and Mayumi. I said hello and chatted to them a bit about school and things. They said they were headed in the city to "have fun" at Nagoya Station. I asked them were they going
to go shopping and they just giggled, confirming that they indeed were. I asked them did they have money and they said yes. They're too young to work, so I asked them where they got their money. From their moms, of course. I looked over and noticed Misuzu was wearing a giant blue wriststrap with some bold, white characters written on it. I studied it for a second. It read "SEX POT." omg.
At first I was going to ask her did she know the meaning of her wrist band and what it implied, but I decided to leave it alone. I wanted to ask her "Did your Mama give you money to buy that, too?" She probably would've answered "Yes." In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if her mother bought it for her. (yikes!) I looked to my right and noticed the train conductor standing over in his little booth looking at me with a disgusted look on his face. Now, I've never claimed to be a mind reader, but I'm pretty good when it comes to reading body language. And the conductor's face was saying "I'm really disgusted this foreigner is trying to pick up these high school girls." That may sound presumptive, but as I said, I interpret facial expressions pretty well. I knew his thoughts And that was the one he was giving me.
Please. Just because the teen sex industry is massive in Japan, doesn't mean that's the way I get down. Slow your roll, homie.
(insert silly slogan here)...
Jul 13, 2004
THAI-ED THE KNOT
It's official. I'm going to Thailand. Next week.
I made my reservations today--went straight after school. I've been hitting my homie Al up for info. He's been there a few times. My roommate's been there too. Even the Japanese travel agent who booked me said he's been 10 times! Dang...I wonder if it was the cheap hookers that keep him going back (Oh!) Actually, I've met quite a few heads since I've been here who've been. They all said it's a good, and inexpensive trip. Gorgeous water and beaches, cultural sights, and great food. What more can you ask for on a vacation? It seems to be a staple of Asian travel, and I feel like I'm the only one 'round these parts who hasn't been.
I'm out of the "in-crowd." I'm like a "Thai virgin." But not for long.
So, I had a busy day. Classes ended early at JHS today, so the kids went to their sports activities. I raided the new gym and shot some ball around with boys, but got bored with them, and went on the other side to play volleyball with girls. They let me jump in on a scrimmage game and our team won. I served game point. It was a devastating victory. A lotta fun. Got real sweaty too. I goofed around in the gym til it was time for me to leave, then left.
On the way home, I decided I'd just save some time and train fare and just go straight downtown to the travel agency. On the subway there, I caught some young cat staring at me out the corner of my eye. People who stare really annoy me, so I have a tendency to return the favor. Dude was like 4 feet away from me, and I just turned directly toward him and stared at him expressionlessly until he averted his eyes elsewhere, obstinately blowing bubbles from my bubble gum the whole while. I continued to stare at him for a couple minutes until I reached my stop just to drive home the feeling of uncomfortableness.
I reached Sakae, hopped off and proceeded to Exit 16 which was about a 3 minute walk in the underground labyrinth-like station from the platform. I was strolling with my headphones on, almost to the exit, when I felt a tap on my soldier. I turned and looked. It was stare-down dude from the train. I looked at him like "What you need, bruh?" I didn't break my stride. For a hot second, I thought this cat was trying to bring me some beef or something for staring him down! Then I thought "No way." That would've been too funny. In the form of a question, he started saying something to me in Japanese about a camera. I looked at him and said "What?" in Japanese. He repeated himself, but I still didn't get the point. But I was kinda blown that this guy had followed me for at least a good 2 minutes from the train and a good ways through the unnderground station! I stopped walking, then he asked if "Japanese was okay," as if to see if I spoke the language. I told him it was okay, and to repeat himself once more. He said something I still couldn't tcatch, but it seemed like he was either trying to sell me a camera or take my picture. Since I've never seen Japanese street huslters, a quick process of elimination brought me to the conclusion that he was carrying a camera and wanted to take my picture. I looked at him like "Hell naw," but continuing in Japanese, I politely told him No, thanks. Upon hearing that, dude did an about-face and walked away in the opposite direction...What in the HECK was that about?? Dude follows me 2 minutes off the subway and asks to take my picture? I felt like he only followed me because I stared him down; it wasn't like he approached me off the bat when he first saw me. Although, I never felt threatened in any way, that was kinda creepy.
Moving on.
After I left the agency, I decided to walk to the nearby Fushimi district to do a little capoeira in Shiromizu Park. I found a little secluded area and started working on some moves. Our group is supposed to be going to Tokyo this weekend for a batizado and to play with our brother and sister schools in Tokyo and Yokohama, so I wanted to tighten up my moves before I go. It's so humid, I worked up a nice sweat after about 5 minutes of moving. After a while I noticed some rhythmic drumming sounds from another area in the park, so I picked up my bag and headed in the direction of the music. I finally reached a walking path area where a co-ed group of about 10 young-looking Japanese folk were playing congas and other African drums. I noticed one of the drums was painted red, black, and green and a couple of the drummers wore Sankofa cloth on their heads. Interesting.
I made eye contact and gave a nod to one of the male drummers. They had a little rhythm going, so I decided to continue working out right there near them, but not directly in their space. Their drum rhythms were different from capoeira style, but they were cool enough for me to ginga to. I started doing some moves and kicks to the rhythm and it felt pretty good. The drummers mostly ignored me, although a few of them kinda stopped and looked from time to time to see what I was doing. I know they musta been thinking "Where did this Black man come from? ..We start playing African music and Africans start showing up!" Ha. I continuing working out (with many rests) until about the time the drummers wrapped up their practice, then headed home. I was super sweaty, but glad I'd gotten some practice in.
On a dietary note, this recent smothering heat and humidity has stolen my appetite. I haven't cooked dinner in over a week. I keep promising myself that I'll cook for myself when I get home everyday, but I haven't yet. I've been getting through the days pretty well with just a light breakfast and schoollunch. I suppose if this keeps up, perhaps I'll be losing some wieight. Odd, I've never been one to really stop eating because of seasonal change, but this summer heat has been pretty crucial so far, and promises only to get worse as the official Japanese rainy season has yet to end. Doh. I suppose I'll get around to having dinner at home one of these days...
Ahh, 3 more days til summer vacation. "Summer" and "vacation"--those 2 words go nicely together.
Meanwhile, tropical islandry and SE Asian adventure awaits the "Black Foreigner." Out.
I made my reservations today--went straight after school. I've been hitting my homie Al up for info. He's been there a few times. My roommate's been there too. Even the Japanese travel agent who booked me said he's been 10 times! Dang...I wonder if it was the cheap hookers that keep him going back (Oh!) Actually, I've met quite a few heads since I've been here who've been. They all said it's a good, and inexpensive trip. Gorgeous water and beaches, cultural sights, and great food. What more can you ask for on a vacation? It seems to be a staple of Asian travel, and I feel like I'm the only one 'round these parts who hasn't been.
I'm out of the "in-crowd." I'm like a "Thai virgin." But not for long.
So, I had a busy day. Classes ended early at JHS today, so the kids went to their sports activities. I raided the new gym and shot some ball around with boys, but got bored with them, and went on the other side to play volleyball with girls. They let me jump in on a scrimmage game and our team won. I served game point. It was a devastating victory. A lotta fun. Got real sweaty too. I goofed around in the gym til it was time for me to leave, then left.
On the way home, I decided I'd just save some time and train fare and just go straight downtown to the travel agency. On the subway there, I caught some young cat staring at me out the corner of my eye. People who stare really annoy me, so I have a tendency to return the favor. Dude was like 4 feet away from me, and I just turned directly toward him and stared at him expressionlessly until he averted his eyes elsewhere, obstinately blowing bubbles from my bubble gum the whole while. I continued to stare at him for a couple minutes until I reached my stop just to drive home the feeling of uncomfortableness.
I reached Sakae, hopped off and proceeded to Exit 16 which was about a 3 minute walk in the underground labyrinth-like station from the platform. I was strolling with my headphones on, almost to the exit, when I felt a tap on my soldier. I turned and looked. It was stare-down dude from the train. I looked at him like "What you need, bruh?" I didn't break my stride. For a hot second, I thought this cat was trying to bring me some beef or something for staring him down! Then I thought "No way." That would've been too funny. In the form of a question, he started saying something to me in Japanese about a camera. I looked at him and said "What?" in Japanese. He repeated himself, but I still didn't get the point. But I was kinda blown that this guy had followed me for at least a good 2 minutes from the train and a good ways through the unnderground station! I stopped walking, then he asked if "Japanese was okay," as if to see if I spoke the language. I told him it was okay, and to repeat himself once more. He said something I still couldn't tcatch, but it seemed like he was either trying to sell me a camera or take my picture. Since I've never seen Japanese street huslters, a quick process of elimination brought me to the conclusion that he was carrying a camera and wanted to take my picture. I looked at him like "Hell naw," but continuing in Japanese, I politely told him No, thanks. Upon hearing that, dude did an about-face and walked away in the opposite direction...What in the HECK was that about?? Dude follows me 2 minutes off the subway and asks to take my picture? I felt like he only followed me because I stared him down; it wasn't like he approached me off the bat when he first saw me. Although, I never felt threatened in any way, that was kinda creepy.
Moving on.
After I left the agency, I decided to walk to the nearby Fushimi district to do a little capoeira in Shiromizu Park. I found a little secluded area and started working on some moves. Our group is supposed to be going to Tokyo this weekend for a batizado and to play with our brother and sister schools in Tokyo and Yokohama, so I wanted to tighten up my moves before I go. It's so humid, I worked up a nice sweat after about 5 minutes of moving. After a while I noticed some rhythmic drumming sounds from another area in the park, so I picked up my bag and headed in the direction of the music. I finally reached a walking path area where a co-ed group of about 10 young-looking Japanese folk were playing congas and other African drums. I noticed one of the drums was painted red, black, and green and a couple of the drummers wore Sankofa cloth on their heads. Interesting.
I made eye contact and gave a nod to one of the male drummers. They had a little rhythm going, so I decided to continue working out right there near them, but not directly in their space. Their drum rhythms were different from capoeira style, but they were cool enough for me to ginga to. I started doing some moves and kicks to the rhythm and it felt pretty good. The drummers mostly ignored me, although a few of them kinda stopped and looked from time to time to see what I was doing. I know they musta been thinking "Where did this Black man come from? ..We start playing African music and Africans start showing up!" Ha. I continuing working out (with many rests) until about the time the drummers wrapped up their practice, then headed home. I was super sweaty, but glad I'd gotten some practice in.
On a dietary note, this recent smothering heat and humidity has stolen my appetite. I haven't cooked dinner in over a week. I keep promising myself that I'll cook for myself when I get home everyday, but I haven't yet. I've been getting through the days pretty well with just a light breakfast and schoollunch. I suppose if this keeps up, perhaps I'll be losing some wieight. Odd, I've never been one to really stop eating because of seasonal change, but this summer heat has been pretty crucial so far, and promises only to get worse as the official Japanese rainy season has yet to end. Doh. I suppose I'll get around to having dinner at home one of these days...
Ahh, 3 more days til summer vacation. "Summer" and "vacation"--those 2 words go nicely together.
Meanwhile, tropical islandry and SE Asian adventure awaits the "Black Foreigner." Out.
Jun 11, 2004
THE (CHI)NESE CONNECTION
Sometimes the best times come from the least planned, least expected events...
Tuesday afternoon, on the way home from school, I got a call from Heather, which I missed. (Heather is a Jamaican friend from Toronto I met a few months ago. Right now, she's like the only Black chick I know in Nagoya, and we were both shocked to find out we live in the same neighborhood, less than 10 minutes apart by foot.)
I get home, check my cell, see Heather's name on the ID. By the time I take a load off and get ready to hit her back, I get another call, this time from Charles. Charles is a DJ homie from L.A. whom I met my first year in Nagoya. He tells me that Common is in town and is doing 2 shows at the Blue Note tonight. There was supposed to be an afterparty at another club, which he invited me to. He also told me he was going to the show, for free, as Heather's VIP "+1" guest. Free? Whoa.
Charles went on to explain how Heather had gone to Common's show the previous night at which the particularly lackluster crowd made Heather and her solo-"I'ma have fun regardless"-dancing draw Com's attention, prompting him to come offstage and perform right in front of her. After the show, Heather met Com, his DJ, and his road crew. They asked her about good local afterspots, to which she suggested a particular Hip-Hop club, to which they invited her as a guest to the following night's show.
Ah, so that's what she called me about.
"So, what's up? Are you coming?" Charles said.
"Man, y'all trying to club on a Tuesday night? I got work in the morning. I dunno...lemme call Heather. I'll let you know," I told him.
I call Heather. She gives me the horse's mouth version of Charles' story. She, too, invites me to the "afterparty."
"Bump an afterparty--I'm trying to see the show! How about hooking a brotha up with some 'VIP guest love?'" I suggested.
"I already put Charles down as my guest," she explained.
"Well, how about a "+2"?"
Heather was skeptical about getting 2 guests in under her name, but she suggested I come to the show anyway. I wasn't trying to pay the 5100 yen(~$50 US) base ticket price (The tickets went as high as 12,000 yen (over $100 US) for stageside seats). Never in life have I paid 50 bucks to see a Hip-Hop show, and never will I. I've seen the best and brightest in the game for $25 MAX--I'm not taking up the Japanese tradition of overpaying for everything.
At first, I was super reluctant to go, but after mulling over the prospect for a few seconds, I finally agreed to go--only on the condition she agree to help me in the door if I came down. She agreed.
Boom. So I get to the Blue Note right around 8:30--the time Heather said she would be there. I didn't see her, so I decided to head in the club to see if she was already inside. I make it downstairs to the admissions area where a couple club staffers with mini-mics and earphones are posted at a tiny lectern with a big reservation book. I walk up, and in straight-up English I say "Hi...I'm on the guestlist...under Heather." The staffguy seemed a bit flustered by the sudden onslaught of English-speaking.
"...Can you tell me the name?" Staffguy asks.
"Heather."
"Uhh, I'm sorry..can you write down name?"
I wrote the name down.
"What is your name?" Staffguy asks.
I tell him my name. "Do you know if Heather's here yet?
"Uhh..No." he replied.
Growing more flustered, he said "Uhh, I don't see your name, could you come over here and wait, please?"
He ushered me into the walkway leading to the main hall. I was confusing them. I think they believed I was supposed to be on the list, even though my name clearly wasn't. To put extra spin on the ball I mentioned I was from Chicago. Don't know if that meant anything to them or not. After waiting for a few moments, a staffgirl appeared.
Staffgirl, who spoke much better English than Staffguy, says,
"Oh, hi. I checked with the road manager, but your name wasn't on her list. Maybe we made a mistake. I'll talk with her again, and see if we can add your name to the list."
Wow. Talk about a Jedi mind trick. They didn't know me from Adam, but just because I was Black, said my name was on the list, and played the part, they were willing to go to lengths to help me in for free. Word.
So, Staffgirl ran off to do her thing. I wanted to call Heather, but I couldn't get reception inside the club, so I told Staffguy I was going upstairs to use my phone.
Heather eventually arrived and we met in front of the club. Before heading back in, I told her the gameplan I'd enacted. She was cool with it, and when we hit the door again, we ran the same play. The staff folk were still deliberating over how they were going to handle our situation and had ushered us off to the side again, when, seconds later, Charles came strolling in with some other Black dude whom neither of us knew. The dude said his name to Staffguy and then waltzed right on in ahead of us, with Charles tailing. Heather and I looked at each other like "What the..?" But right after that Staffguy gestured us in like, "No problem..You're okay, enjoy the show!" Yes! Score 1 for the Away team.
With a big grin on my face, we strode right up in the club, pockets unscathed. That alone had made my night. It turned out that the guy Charles rolled in with was a local musician named Ventura who'd he just met outside of the club. Ventura was on the guestlist too and had a +1 going unused, so he let Charles roll in with him, which allowed easier entry for me.
It was my first time in the Nagoya Blue Note. It was a classy venue, with a mellow, modern look and feel to it. Besides its big circular bar, it had several sections of full of chairs and tables for people to rest easy over cocktails while casually enjoying some smooth tunes--a perfect setting for jazz performances, though, totally inappropriate for a live Hip-Hop show, it seemed. I was skeptical about what kind of audience it would be. Our guest seats were at the bar, where we posted up until showtime, after which we eased over towards the reserved seating area to get a better view of the stage.
The show started promptly at 9:15, busting the calm wide open with Common running out on stage and jumping right into things with a live intro song to hype the crowd. Everybody sprang right up out their seats and got to rockin'. Different from the lackadaisical audience Heather reported from the previous night's show, this crowd acted like real heads. The format of the show was basic, yet classic: one DJ, one MC. One Common formerly known as Sense, plus one DJ Dummy, skilled turntablist and 1998 DMC champ.
We were digging the show, although it was hard to see the stage because there was a huge pillar which was retardedly built right in the middle of the club--so everyone seated behind it could only see half the stage at a time. At one point Charles tried to move closer to the reserved seats for a better view, but there was a staff security guy conveniently posted close to where we were standing to protect the "money seats" from who?--who knows. The show kept rocking and when Com performed "Come Close," he pulled some Japanese chick out the audience and started slow-dancing with her. It was funny, becasue at first Com was trying to talk to her, but she couldn't understood what he was saying, though when he broke into the song and started rapping to her, I watched this chick recite all the lyrics by heart.
About midway through the show, Com slowed things down and started talking about how Hip-Hop has come to influence the world and etc. Then he called out for Japanese emcees to come to the stage and rep their skills. At that moment, I was thinking "Aww snap" and I knew I had to represent for these cats, especially with Chicago in the house. I started hollering "Yo Com, I got this!" over and over, but I guess I was too far in the back for him to hear me. I was the only cat in there hollering out in English, so I figured he'd catch my voice, but he didn't. I tried to edge closer, but the security cat was ice grilling me. I felt my opportunity slipping, as one,...then two Japanese cats bounced up onstage. I couldn't let myself go out off a weak technicality, so at the last second, I pushed past the security dude and started barrelling through the reserved section, making my way towards the stage, still hollering. Finally, Common spotted me and beckoned for me to come up. Score 2 for the Away team!
I popped up onstage and gave Common quick dap before he was like "OK, do y'all thing" while DJ Dummy spun instrumentals. It wasn't really a competition, but it seemed like one. I felt like Eminem in '8 Mile' or something. Com passed off the mic to the first cat, but I think he chickened out cuz he wouldn't take the mic and started waving his hands like "No, I don't wanna do it!" I think he ended up hopping off the stage. So then there were two. Com passed the mic to the next Japanese guy, and he bust his flow. The crowd got hype off of him. I didn't catch a thing he was saying, but I could tell he had skill, cuz of the way his flow was coming off. I just nodded to the music, staying in rhythm, waiting. He did his thing for like a minute then came off the stage. The crowd was ecstatic. I was last and Com passed the mic off to me. I introduced myself real quick and let him know I was from the CHI. He was like "OK" and gave me a pound. I could sense the anticipation from the crowd. It'd been a while since I rocked in front of an audience, so I almost got nervous how I would come off. I felt the adrenaline starting to rush. I took a second to catch the beat, then killed it for almost two minutes. I kicked the first verse of 'Wardance' off the Metalyrical LP. The crowd went ape. Folks at the edge of the stage were hollering, reaching out trying to grab me and whatnot. I was shocked at how hype this predominantly Japanese crowd was. I was thinking "Where y'all been the last 2 years? Not in Nagoya!" It was my first time seeing a crowd of real Japanese Hip-Hop heads with the energy to match. I finished my verse and gave Dummy and Com daps before I hopped off the stage, with guys and girls on both sides of me throwing high fives and daps, including the previous emcee. When I got to my spot in the back, a young Japanese couple standing nearby was clapping and shook my hand, a couple foreigners came up and showed love. It was like I was a rap star for like all of a surreal 10 seconds. I was just pumped I got to rock alongside one of my favorite Hip-Hop artists.
The real star of the show continued his show. Towards the end, I heard some girl in the crowd holler out "Chicago," so I hollered "Where you at?" The Japanese folks looked confused--they didn't know what was going on. The show ended on a high note, but it wasn't the end of the night. Heather was supposed to meet up with Com and his crew afterwards, so we all just mingled, while Commnon signed autographs in the lounge area. Before I left the club, I ended up meeting several "new" Black folks who lived in the Nagoya area, including the chick who hollered out "Chicago" during the show--Jennifer. Originally from Ohio, Jennifer graduated from Northwestern, thus why she repped the CHI. She works for the JET Program as a translator up in Gifu City. I rapped with her for awhile, before we met Com's roadies at the bar. Two of those guys were Chicago natives, so it felt like the Chicago Connection for a second. I almost forgot where I was when heads started reminiscing over Giordano's Pizza and Cheescake Factory!
The roadies started asking about afterspots, but I told them they probably wouldn't have much luck on a Tuesday night--nothing good's popping on Tuesday nights. Soon after, the club cleared out and it was just us, club staff, and a few lingering showgoers getting autographs. Everybody was waiting for Com to finish signing and taking pictures so we could leave. The guys went to start loading the equipment, so Heather, two of her friends, and I went over to the lounge right as the autographs finished up. I got a chance to talk to Com briefly. I went up and gave him daps. He told me I was good, and asked me how long I'd been in Japan and what I was doing. When I said I was a schoolteacher, he gave me dap again. He went off and Com's road manager, a kinda young, heavyset sista with short-cropped hair came out and let us know that the plans had changed for the night. Now, they wanted to go bowling--it was kinda funny how they went from wanting to tear up da club to tearing up da bowling pins, but we were down with it, so the road manager told us to trail their van in a taxi after they finished loading up their show equipment.
"Trail your van in a taxi?!" I felt like the road manager was trying to play us like some groupies; I mean, the night before Common had personally asked Heather and some peoples to come out and kick it, not chase vans around the city. So at first, I was like "Y'all got any room in the van?," but they were packed pretty tightly, so they couldn't accomodate our group of 4. The plan was to drop the sound equipment off at their hotel then head to the bowling alley. I was in a good mood, plus none of us were driving, so I didn't trip and just went with the flow. We followed them in a taxi to the Nagoya Hilton which, luckily for us, was only about a mile away. We got to the hotel, hopped out and started heading towards the van parked at the hotel entrance, when the road manager came strutting over.
"Sorry, there's been a change of plans...the guys have their girls so they're gonna stay in and..."
Bogus. We got our bowling party intercepted by some ol' stank groupies. They were foreign girls to boot, not Japanese (I guess Common's over Erykah. Ha.) I should've seen that coming a mile away, but either way, I had had my fun for the night, so I laughed it off--though I think Heather might've been a little salty since she'd been personally invited to hang with Com and crew. Actually, I was kinda relieved since I had work the next morning, and didn't need to be hanging out at ungodly hours anyhow.
We called it a night, but not before the four of us stopped for a drink at a nearby British-style pub. We chopped it up til closing time, then bounced. The subway had long since stopped, so Heather and I shared a cab home.
Epilogue: Poor Charles had left the Blue Note ahead of us to rally up heads at another club for the "Common Show Afterparty." Litlle did he know it wasn't to be. Doh! Hope he wasn't upset at Heather. Afterall, it wasn't her fault. When in doubt, blame the groupies!
Tuesday afternoon, on the way home from school, I got a call from Heather, which I missed. (Heather is a Jamaican friend from Toronto I met a few months ago. Right now, she's like the only Black chick I know in Nagoya, and we were both shocked to find out we live in the same neighborhood, less than 10 minutes apart by foot.)
I get home, check my cell, see Heather's name on the ID. By the time I take a load off and get ready to hit her back, I get another call, this time from Charles. Charles is a DJ homie from L.A. whom I met my first year in Nagoya. He tells me that Common is in town and is doing 2 shows at the Blue Note tonight. There was supposed to be an afterparty at another club, which he invited me to. He also told me he was going to the show, for free, as Heather's VIP "+1" guest. Free? Whoa.
Charles went on to explain how Heather had gone to Common's show the previous night at which the particularly lackluster crowd made Heather and her solo-"I'ma have fun regardless"-dancing draw Com's attention, prompting him to come offstage and perform right in front of her. After the show, Heather met Com, his DJ, and his road crew. They asked her about good local afterspots, to which she suggested a particular Hip-Hop club, to which they invited her as a guest to the following night's show.
Ah, so that's what she called me about.
"So, what's up? Are you coming?" Charles said.
"Man, y'all trying to club on a Tuesday night? I got work in the morning. I dunno...lemme call Heather. I'll let you know," I told him.
I call Heather. She gives me the horse's mouth version of Charles' story. She, too, invites me to the "afterparty."
"Bump an afterparty--I'm trying to see the show! How about hooking a brotha up with some 'VIP guest love?'" I suggested.
"I already put Charles down as my guest," she explained.
"Well, how about a "+2"?"
Heather was skeptical about getting 2 guests in under her name, but she suggested I come to the show anyway. I wasn't trying to pay the 5100 yen(~$50 US) base ticket price (The tickets went as high as 12,000 yen (over $100 US) for stageside seats). Never in life have I paid 50 bucks to see a Hip-Hop show, and never will I. I've seen the best and brightest in the game for $25 MAX--I'm not taking up the Japanese tradition of overpaying for everything.
At first, I was super reluctant to go, but after mulling over the prospect for a few seconds, I finally agreed to go--only on the condition she agree to help me in the door if I came down. She agreed.
Boom. So I get to the Blue Note right around 8:30--the time Heather said she would be there. I didn't see her, so I decided to head in the club to see if she was already inside. I make it downstairs to the admissions area where a couple club staffers with mini-mics and earphones are posted at a tiny lectern with a big reservation book. I walk up, and in straight-up English I say "Hi...I'm on the guestlist...under Heather." The staffguy seemed a bit flustered by the sudden onslaught of English-speaking.
"...Can you tell me the name?" Staffguy asks.
"Heather."
"Uhh, I'm sorry..can you write down name?"
I wrote the name down.
"What is your name?" Staffguy asks.
I tell him my name. "Do you know if Heather's here yet?
"Uhh..No." he replied.
Growing more flustered, he said "Uhh, I don't see your name, could you come over here and wait, please?"
He ushered me into the walkway leading to the main hall. I was confusing them. I think they believed I was supposed to be on the list, even though my name clearly wasn't. To put extra spin on the ball I mentioned I was from Chicago. Don't know if that meant anything to them or not. After waiting for a few moments, a staffgirl appeared.
Staffgirl, who spoke much better English than Staffguy, says,
"Oh, hi. I checked with the road manager, but your name wasn't on her list. Maybe we made a mistake. I'll talk with her again, and see if we can add your name to the list."
Wow. Talk about a Jedi mind trick. They didn't know me from Adam, but just because I was Black, said my name was on the list, and played the part, they were willing to go to lengths to help me in for free. Word.
So, Staffgirl ran off to do her thing. I wanted to call Heather, but I couldn't get reception inside the club, so I told Staffguy I was going upstairs to use my phone.
Heather eventually arrived and we met in front of the club. Before heading back in, I told her the gameplan I'd enacted. She was cool with it, and when we hit the door again, we ran the same play. The staff folk were still deliberating over how they were going to handle our situation and had ushered us off to the side again, when, seconds later, Charles came strolling in with some other Black dude whom neither of us knew. The dude said his name to Staffguy and then waltzed right on in ahead of us, with Charles tailing. Heather and I looked at each other like "What the..?" But right after that Staffguy gestured us in like, "No problem..You're okay, enjoy the show!" Yes! Score 1 for the Away team.
With a big grin on my face, we strode right up in the club, pockets unscathed. That alone had made my night. It turned out that the guy Charles rolled in with was a local musician named Ventura who'd he just met outside of the club. Ventura was on the guestlist too and had a +1 going unused, so he let Charles roll in with him, which allowed easier entry for me.
It was my first time in the Nagoya Blue Note. It was a classy venue, with a mellow, modern look and feel to it. Besides its big circular bar, it had several sections of full of chairs and tables for people to rest easy over cocktails while casually enjoying some smooth tunes--a perfect setting for jazz performances, though, totally inappropriate for a live Hip-Hop show, it seemed. I was skeptical about what kind of audience it would be. Our guest seats were at the bar, where we posted up until showtime, after which we eased over towards the reserved seating area to get a better view of the stage.
The show started promptly at 9:15, busting the calm wide open with Common running out on stage and jumping right into things with a live intro song to hype the crowd. Everybody sprang right up out their seats and got to rockin'. Different from the lackadaisical audience Heather reported from the previous night's show, this crowd acted like real heads. The format of the show was basic, yet classic: one DJ, one MC. One Common formerly known as Sense, plus one DJ Dummy, skilled turntablist and 1998 DMC champ.
We were digging the show, although it was hard to see the stage because there was a huge pillar which was retardedly built right in the middle of the club--so everyone seated behind it could only see half the stage at a time. At one point Charles tried to move closer to the reserved seats for a better view, but there was a staff security guy conveniently posted close to where we were standing to protect the "money seats" from who?--who knows. The show kept rocking and when Com performed "Come Close," he pulled some Japanese chick out the audience and started slow-dancing with her. It was funny, becasue at first Com was trying to talk to her, but she couldn't understood what he was saying, though when he broke into the song and started rapping to her, I watched this chick recite all the lyrics by heart.
About midway through the show, Com slowed things down and started talking about how Hip-Hop has come to influence the world and etc. Then he called out for Japanese emcees to come to the stage and rep their skills. At that moment, I was thinking "Aww snap" and I knew I had to represent for these cats, especially with Chicago in the house. I started hollering "Yo Com, I got this!" over and over, but I guess I was too far in the back for him to hear me. I was the only cat in there hollering out in English, so I figured he'd catch my voice, but he didn't. I tried to edge closer, but the security cat was ice grilling me. I felt my opportunity slipping, as one,...then two Japanese cats bounced up onstage. I couldn't let myself go out off a weak technicality, so at the last second, I pushed past the security dude and started barrelling through the reserved section, making my way towards the stage, still hollering. Finally, Common spotted me and beckoned for me to come up. Score 2 for the Away team!
I popped up onstage and gave Common quick dap before he was like "OK, do y'all thing" while DJ Dummy spun instrumentals. It wasn't really a competition, but it seemed like one. I felt like Eminem in '8 Mile' or something. Com passed off the mic to the first cat, but I think he chickened out cuz he wouldn't take the mic and started waving his hands like "No, I don't wanna do it!" I think he ended up hopping off the stage. So then there were two. Com passed the mic to the next Japanese guy, and he bust his flow. The crowd got hype off of him. I didn't catch a thing he was saying, but I could tell he had skill, cuz of the way his flow was coming off. I just nodded to the music, staying in rhythm, waiting. He did his thing for like a minute then came off the stage. The crowd was ecstatic. I was last and Com passed the mic off to me. I introduced myself real quick and let him know I was from the CHI. He was like "OK" and gave me a pound. I could sense the anticipation from the crowd. It'd been a while since I rocked in front of an audience, so I almost got nervous how I would come off. I felt the adrenaline starting to rush. I took a second to catch the beat, then killed it for almost two minutes. I kicked the first verse of 'Wardance' off the Metalyrical LP. The crowd went ape. Folks at the edge of the stage were hollering, reaching out trying to grab me and whatnot. I was shocked at how hype this predominantly Japanese crowd was. I was thinking "Where y'all been the last 2 years? Not in Nagoya!" It was my first time seeing a crowd of real Japanese Hip-Hop heads with the energy to match. I finished my verse and gave Dummy and Com daps before I hopped off the stage, with guys and girls on both sides of me throwing high fives and daps, including the previous emcee. When I got to my spot in the back, a young Japanese couple standing nearby was clapping and shook my hand, a couple foreigners came up and showed love. It was like I was a rap star for like all of a surreal 10 seconds. I was just pumped I got to rock alongside one of my favorite Hip-Hop artists.
The real star of the show continued his show. Towards the end, I heard some girl in the crowd holler out "Chicago," so I hollered "Where you at?" The Japanese folks looked confused--they didn't know what was going on. The show ended on a high note, but it wasn't the end of the night. Heather was supposed to meet up with Com and his crew afterwards, so we all just mingled, while Commnon signed autographs in the lounge area. Before I left the club, I ended up meeting several "new" Black folks who lived in the Nagoya area, including the chick who hollered out "Chicago" during the show--Jennifer. Originally from Ohio, Jennifer graduated from Northwestern, thus why she repped the CHI. She works for the JET Program as a translator up in Gifu City. I rapped with her for awhile, before we met Com's roadies at the bar. Two of those guys were Chicago natives, so it felt like the Chicago Connection for a second. I almost forgot where I was when heads started reminiscing over Giordano's Pizza and Cheescake Factory!
The roadies started asking about afterspots, but I told them they probably wouldn't have much luck on a Tuesday night--nothing good's popping on Tuesday nights. Soon after, the club cleared out and it was just us, club staff, and a few lingering showgoers getting autographs. Everybody was waiting for Com to finish signing and taking pictures so we could leave. The guys went to start loading the equipment, so Heather, two of her friends, and I went over to the lounge right as the autographs finished up. I got a chance to talk to Com briefly. I went up and gave him daps. He told me I was good, and asked me how long I'd been in Japan and what I was doing. When I said I was a schoolteacher, he gave me dap again. He went off and Com's road manager, a kinda young, heavyset sista with short-cropped hair came out and let us know that the plans had changed for the night. Now, they wanted to go bowling--it was kinda funny how they went from wanting to tear up da club to tearing up da bowling pins, but we were down with it, so the road manager told us to trail their van in a taxi after they finished loading up their show equipment.
"Trail your van in a taxi?!" I felt like the road manager was trying to play us like some groupies; I mean, the night before Common had personally asked Heather and some peoples to come out and kick it, not chase vans around the city. So at first, I was like "Y'all got any room in the van?," but they were packed pretty tightly, so they couldn't accomodate our group of 4. The plan was to drop the sound equipment off at their hotel then head to the bowling alley. I was in a good mood, plus none of us were driving, so I didn't trip and just went with the flow. We followed them in a taxi to the Nagoya Hilton which, luckily for us, was only about a mile away. We got to the hotel, hopped out and started heading towards the van parked at the hotel entrance, when the road manager came strutting over.
"Sorry, there's been a change of plans...the guys have their girls so they're gonna stay in and..."
Bogus. We got our bowling party intercepted by some ol' stank groupies. They were foreign girls to boot, not Japanese (I guess Common's over Erykah. Ha.) I should've seen that coming a mile away, but either way, I had had my fun for the night, so I laughed it off--though I think Heather might've been a little salty since she'd been personally invited to hang with Com and crew. Actually, I was kinda relieved since I had work the next morning, and didn't need to be hanging out at ungodly hours anyhow.
We called it a night, but not before the four of us stopped for a drink at a nearby British-style pub. We chopped it up til closing time, then bounced. The subway had long since stopped, so Heather and I shared a cab home.
Epilogue: Poor Charles had left the Blue Note ahead of us to rally up heads at another club for the "Common Show Afterparty." Litlle did he know it wasn't to be. Doh! Hope he wasn't upset at Heather. Afterall, it wasn't her fault. When in doubt, blame the groupies!
Jun 10, 2004
ONE FOR THE "GENIUS"
To an American great...Ray Charles (Robinson)
R.I.P. September 23, 1930 - June 10, 2004
R.I.P. September 23, 1930 - June 10, 2004
Jun 8, 2004
FRESH PRINCE OF NAGOYA
Every once in a baby-blue moon, and to my great surprise, some random Japanese stranger (almost always a guy) musters gall from some unknown source to strike up a conversation with me in public.
I was riding the ever-crowded morning train on the way to work, standing of course, when I noticed some guy who was facing me, to my left, staring me in the face. I didn't think this was unusual, as I often receive stares from train passengers. I find it rude and annoying, so I usually just stare back until they stop. This is usually an effective method.
However, when I caught this guy continuously staring out the corner of my eye. I began to stare back at him. He looked fairly not old, probably in his mid to late 30s, hair still black. To my surprise, it seemed he was trying to get my attention, and he tried to strike up a conversation with me, in English:
"Oh..hi..Where are you from?" he said.
Rather presumptive of him. How did he know I spoke English? I've found via my many encounters with Japanese people that many tend to think that all foreigners in Japan speak English. Many do, however, this isn't always the case.
"The United States." I replied.
"Do you work in Japan?" he continued.
"Yes."
"What is your work?"
"I'm a junior high school teacher."
"Really? I teach junior high school, too!"
"Is that right...what do you teach? I inquired.
"What do you think I teach?" he challenged.
Looking him over, "Mm..I dunno...history?" I guessed.
"No. I teach math."
"Ah. That's nice" I said, acting interested.
"You look like Will Smith."
I must've given this guy a look like "Are you serious? Gimme a break." I thought he could've tried a little harder than that. I don't look JACK like a Will Smith. I mean, we're not even the same complexion. C'mon guy, I know we all look alike, but dang.
"Are you serious?"
"You don't think so?"
"Mm, naw. I don't."
I suppose the guy was trying to create a compliment, so I didn't make a thing of it. Though, if some white person had made the same comment in the States, I probably would've told them to get outtta my face. With all the Black faces floating around the U.S., they would know better than to make such a comparison.
We continued our very brief conversation until the next stop where he got off, where I bid him goodbye and a good day.
Will Smith, though? ...Only in Japan.
I was riding the ever-crowded morning train on the way to work, standing of course, when I noticed some guy who was facing me, to my left, staring me in the face. I didn't think this was unusual, as I often receive stares from train passengers. I find it rude and annoying, so I usually just stare back until they stop. This is usually an effective method.
However, when I caught this guy continuously staring out the corner of my eye. I began to stare back at him. He looked fairly not old, probably in his mid to late 30s, hair still black. To my surprise, it seemed he was trying to get my attention, and he tried to strike up a conversation with me, in English:
"Oh..hi..Where are you from?" he said.
Rather presumptive of him. How did he know I spoke English? I've found via my many encounters with Japanese people that many tend to think that all foreigners in Japan speak English. Many do, however, this isn't always the case.
"The United States." I replied.
"Do you work in Japan?" he continued.
"Yes."
"What is your work?"
"I'm a junior high school teacher."
"Really? I teach junior high school, too!"
"Is that right...what do you teach? I inquired.
"What do you think I teach?" he challenged.
Looking him over, "Mm..I dunno...history?" I guessed.
"No. I teach math."
"Ah. That's nice" I said, acting interested.
"You look like Will Smith."
I must've given this guy a look like "Are you serious? Gimme a break." I thought he could've tried a little harder than that. I don't look JACK like a Will Smith. I mean, we're not even the same complexion. C'mon guy, I know we all look alike, but dang.
"Are you serious?"
"You don't think so?"
"Mm, naw. I don't."
I suppose the guy was trying to create a compliment, so I didn't make a thing of it. Though, if some white person had made the same comment in the States, I probably would've told them to get outtta my face. With all the Black faces floating around the U.S., they would know better than to make such a comparison.
We continued our very brief conversation until the next stop where he got off, where I bid him goodbye and a good day.
Will Smith, though? ...Only in Japan.
Jun 7, 2004
THE "SCHOOL VISIT"
So, it was a pretty normal day, save for the fact that it wasn't. I worked at JHS, and we had what translates to English as a "school visit," which happens two or three times per school year. A school visit is when resident teachers plus bigwigs from the local board of ed. come to observe and evaluate classroom lessons taught for all subjects. Some teachers tend to wig out around the time of such visits, because the lessons taught on that particular day have to be prepared, written and explained weeks in advance in order to be published in a big "school visit book" which the school distributes to its teachers and visitors on the big day.
I had only one class scheduled for the day, with the 1st year students (7th graders), co-taught with Ms. Takeuchi, a young English teacher, probably in her very early 30's. The whole school visit ordeal didn't particularly faze me; being a lowly foreigner of no great significance tends to relieve pressure in these types of situations. However, Ms. Takeuchi was a fumbly and fidgety wreck. The week prior we'd almost bumped heads over the lesson preparation--the problem was that she'd totally planned the lesson by herself without consulting my English "expertise," which would've been okay if her English didn't totally suck. The English grammar she was trying to teach for the lesson was jacked up, and I couldn't understand half of it. When I politely suggested some necessary corrections, she got defensive and started trying to blame me for asking too many questions about the class. I was like "Slow your roll. I have to ask questions, because I don't understand what the hell you're doing, and you're gonna screw this whole lesson up with your retarded English!" That's what I was thinking anyway. What I actually said was much more tactful. I grew a bit annoyed talking to her, but instead of screaming on her, which obviously would've made things worse, I let the cooler side of my brain prevail and somehow managed to convince her to take my suggestions with little contest. As a result, the class came off pretty OK and we didn't look like complete idiots in front of the guests.
Learning a foreign language is interesting; after a period of time, your brain starts to accept the strange sounds it receives as normal and you can actually understand what the heck people are saying. In the afternoon, we had a big teachers meeting reviewing the lesson we'd taught earlier. All teachers were solicited for opinions and commentary about the class, including myself, which I found I was able to give mostly in Japanese. In past meetings I would just zone out because nobody was speaking English, so I didn't have a clue what was going on. But at that meeting, while even some of the Japanese teachers looked bored out of their minds, I kept my interest sparked by trying to follow everyone's comments. I was kinda surprised I could capture the gist of what most were saying. I guess my listening comp. and vocab have improved alot over the past year. Yay.
I had only one class scheduled for the day, with the 1st year students (7th graders), co-taught with Ms. Takeuchi, a young English teacher, probably in her very early 30's. The whole school visit ordeal didn't particularly faze me; being a lowly foreigner of no great significance tends to relieve pressure in these types of situations. However, Ms. Takeuchi was a fumbly and fidgety wreck. The week prior we'd almost bumped heads over the lesson preparation--the problem was that she'd totally planned the lesson by herself without consulting my English "expertise," which would've been okay if her English didn't totally suck. The English grammar she was trying to teach for the lesson was jacked up, and I couldn't understand half of it. When I politely suggested some necessary corrections, she got defensive and started trying to blame me for asking too many questions about the class. I was like "Slow your roll. I have to ask questions, because I don't understand what the hell you're doing, and you're gonna screw this whole lesson up with your retarded English!" That's what I was thinking anyway. What I actually said was much more tactful. I grew a bit annoyed talking to her, but instead of screaming on her, which obviously would've made things worse, I let the cooler side of my brain prevail and somehow managed to convince her to take my suggestions with little contest. As a result, the class came off pretty OK and we didn't look like complete idiots in front of the guests.
Learning a foreign language is interesting; after a period of time, your brain starts to accept the strange sounds it receives as normal and you can actually understand what the heck people are saying. In the afternoon, we had a big teachers meeting reviewing the lesson we'd taught earlier. All teachers were solicited for opinions and commentary about the class, including myself, which I found I was able to give mostly in Japanese. In past meetings I would just zone out because nobody was speaking English, so I didn't have a clue what was going on. But at that meeting, while even some of the Japanese teachers looked bored out of their minds, I kept my interest sparked by trying to follow everyone's comments. I was kinda surprised I could capture the gist of what most were saying. I guess my listening comp. and vocab have improved alot over the past year. Yay.
Jun 6, 2004
ONE FOR THE GIPPER
I know I've been neglecting this blog for the past month or so, but nothing particularly eventful's been going on as of late on this side. I guess that's a good thing. School's going pretty well, domestic life is cool. Health is good, etc., etc.
So Reagan kicked the bucket. Boo freaking hoo. No disrespect to the dead, but judging from the news I'm reading and hearing, some Americans have been going overboard parading his body from coast to coast like he was some sort of hero, saint. Puh-lease.
Reagan was one of the most crooked crooks to get in the White House, predecessor to the malevolent Bush I, greatly responsible for so much death and misery domestically and abroad. He was a racist and compulsive liar. This fool said Dr. Martin Luther King was a Communist. Not that communism is neccesarily a bad thing, but he tried to defame the liberal movement while feeding multiple mistruths to our nation. Reagan crushed affirmative action at home, pampered the rich, drove unemployment to record heights, ignored the AIDS epidemic, helped fund bloody coups and dictatorships in countries including Nicaragua, El Salvador, and Iraq(one of the reasons we're in deep doo-doo today), and ran the federal deficit to unprecedented depths. And the list goes on and on. So I'll miss Reagan about as much I'll miss Jherri curls. Meaning: I won't. They need to stop parading his corpse around the country like he's some saint and dump his butt in a landfill somewhere. I say good riddins Gipper and take your Bush cronies with you to whatever realm of torment and spiritual discord you're headed. Rest in pieces!
How's that for a eulogy?
Green tea for all.
So Reagan kicked the bucket. Boo freaking hoo. No disrespect to the dead, but judging from the news I'm reading and hearing, some Americans have been going overboard parading his body from coast to coast like he was some sort of hero, saint. Puh-lease.
Reagan was one of the most crooked crooks to get in the White House, predecessor to the malevolent Bush I, greatly responsible for so much death and misery domestically and abroad. He was a racist and compulsive liar. This fool said Dr. Martin Luther King was a Communist. Not that communism is neccesarily a bad thing, but he tried to defame the liberal movement while feeding multiple mistruths to our nation. Reagan crushed affirmative action at home, pampered the rich, drove unemployment to record heights, ignored the AIDS epidemic, helped fund bloody coups and dictatorships in countries including Nicaragua, El Salvador, and Iraq(one of the reasons we're in deep doo-doo today), and ran the federal deficit to unprecedented depths. And the list goes on and on. So I'll miss Reagan about as much I'll miss Jherri curls. Meaning: I won't. They need to stop parading his corpse around the country like he's some saint and dump his butt in a landfill somewhere. I say good riddins Gipper and take your Bush cronies with you to whatever realm of torment and spiritual discord you're headed. Rest in pieces!
How's that for a eulogy?
Green tea for all.
May 11, 2004
ABADA ABADA CAPOEIRA ABADA
It was a miracle I woke up on time this morning. Although a night owl, it's atypical for me to hit the futon as late, rather early, as 4AM, only to throw my first blow at my alarm clock at 6:30a. I didn't get back in the house 'til after midnight, and still managed to eat dinner, while watching the Bad Boys 2 rental dvd in the 1 o'clock hour.
The cause of last night's sleep deprivation was my very first attendance of the Tuesday night Capoeira class in
Komaki. Prior, I'd never gone to the Komaki class because of the distance and cost. For instance, just riding the train to Komaki from where I live comes to about $20, plus the cost of the class $10). So total costs to attend the Tues. class would come to about $30 for me. Heeeck No. Not to mention the travel time is about an hour each way, plus the 2 hour class, which only begins at 9pm, comes to about 4 hours of my night I'd have to give up--on a work night to boot. Last night, however, Thomas and I got a ride with Alan, a young Brazilian guy who speaks fluent English. I met Alan when he came to our Saturday class for the first time and offered Thomas, another foreign white guy and I rides home, since we all lived relatively close to each other. Coincidentally, it turned out Alan and Thomas live in apartment buildings only about 2 minutes away from each other on foot.
Alan was born in Brazil, but his family moved to the States when he was a kid, so he speaks Portugese and English. As a matter of fact, he lived in Silver Spring, Maryland, which is D.C.'s backyard, virtually. I used to ride the bus up to Silver Spring to go to the movies back in my HU days. We were practically neighbors in the U.S. Now Alan's in Japan working in an auto garage. It's a small world, forreal.
Alan's a pretty cool dude, he gave us a ride to Komaki, free of charge. I offered him money for gas, but he refused to take it. We made it to Komaki, but didn't know how to get to the gym, so someone called Z and he dashed from the gym to come meet us and lead the way. Z drives really crazy. Word is, he flipped, rather--he rolled his last car trying to pull some crazy maneuver while going at a high speed. On the way to the gym, Z was accelerating and dipping like crazy in and out of the claustrophobic side and backstreets--and we were in Alan's car in hot pursuit. Brazilians drive crazy--it's official. Alan was whipping the little Beetle-like Mitsubushi like it was a NASCAR--and he was driving someone else's car! I joked that if on the Brazilian driver's exam, they asked "A car is a toy. True or False?," they both would fail. It's bad enough that Japan has probably the least driver-friendly roads out of the industrialized world. I had my safety belt extra tight. Eventually, however, we arrived safe and sound.
Class was great. Some people were surprised to see me there. The training room we had in the gym was smaller than where we practice on weekends, and it was hot as sin in there. I got a good, sweaty workout and learned a pretty, new au, a carthwheel. Really slick-looking move. There were less heads than the Saturday class, so Z was able to focus more on everyone's individual techniques. I was able to get some much-needed critique and correction from Z. There's a reason why Capoeira looks so pretty--because it's HARD. It's probably the most physically and technically demanding martial art I've ever done. I like it, especially because it's so difficult to master. A challenge always remains.
The cause of last night's sleep deprivation was my very first attendance of the Tuesday night Capoeira class in
Komaki. Prior, I'd never gone to the Komaki class because of the distance and cost. For instance, just riding the train to Komaki from where I live comes to about $20, plus the cost of the class $10). So total costs to attend the Tues. class would come to about $30 for me. Heeeck No. Not to mention the travel time is about an hour each way, plus the 2 hour class, which only begins at 9pm, comes to about 4 hours of my night I'd have to give up--on a work night to boot. Last night, however, Thomas and I got a ride with Alan, a young Brazilian guy who speaks fluent English. I met Alan when he came to our Saturday class for the first time and offered Thomas, another foreign white guy and I rides home, since we all lived relatively close to each other. Coincidentally, it turned out Alan and Thomas live in apartment buildings only about 2 minutes away from each other on foot.
Alan was born in Brazil, but his family moved to the States when he was a kid, so he speaks Portugese and English. As a matter of fact, he lived in Silver Spring, Maryland, which is D.C.'s backyard, virtually. I used to ride the bus up to Silver Spring to go to the movies back in my HU days. We were practically neighbors in the U.S. Now Alan's in Japan working in an auto garage. It's a small world, forreal.
Alan's a pretty cool dude, he gave us a ride to Komaki, free of charge. I offered him money for gas, but he refused to take it. We made it to Komaki, but didn't know how to get to the gym, so someone called Z and he dashed from the gym to come meet us and lead the way. Z drives really crazy. Word is, he flipped, rather--he rolled his last car trying to pull some crazy maneuver while going at a high speed. On the way to the gym, Z was accelerating and dipping like crazy in and out of the claustrophobic side and backstreets--and we were in Alan's car in hot pursuit. Brazilians drive crazy--it's official. Alan was whipping the little Beetle-like Mitsubushi like it was a NASCAR--and he was driving someone else's car! I joked that if on the Brazilian driver's exam, they asked "A car is a toy. True or False?," they both would fail. It's bad enough that Japan has probably the least driver-friendly roads out of the industrialized world. I had my safety belt extra tight. Eventually, however, we arrived safe and sound.
Class was great. Some people were surprised to see me there. The training room we had in the gym was smaller than where we practice on weekends, and it was hot as sin in there. I got a good, sweaty workout and learned a pretty, new au, a carthwheel. Really slick-looking move. There were less heads than the Saturday class, so Z was able to focus more on everyone's individual techniques. I was able to get some much-needed critique and correction from Z. There's a reason why Capoeira looks so pretty--because it's HARD. It's probably the most physically and technically demanding martial art I've ever done. I like it, especially because it's so difficult to master. A challenge always remains.
Apr 26, 2004
THE RETURN OF LITTLE JESSICA
She's baa-aack. Jessica Watson is back at our elementary school. For 3 months.
It seemed longer ago than last September that I first met the then 9 year old, pint-sized Australian blonde, whose father referred to me as a "Negro" and whose mother owned a horse of a questionably peculiar name.
A couple of teachers had informed me prior that she would be returning at the end of April, but the time came so fast.
When I got to school this morning, immediately the principal quickly came up to me, before I got into the staffroom even, and said "Jessica's here! Please come into my office." I took a second to get my hat off and rest my bag.
I went into the principal's room, and there she was, little Jessica, now in the 5th grade, along with some Japanese lady who I presumed was escorting her.
"Hi Jessica, welcome back!," I politely offered.
"Hi," she coyly replied. She seemed much more shy than when I first met her.
I chatted with her a bit and shared my greetings. Everyone else just stood by smiling while we conversed in English. I felt like some sort of English ambassador. The lady escorting her handed me a folded piece of paper. "This is from Ian," she said. It was a handwritten letter to me from Jessica's father.
I read the letter silently to myself. In it, Mr. Watson expressed that he would like for Jessica to be able to come discuss any school matters, if any, with me, since I would be the only person with whom she could communicate with in English. So, Massuh Watson wants the Negro-boy to tend ta lil Miss Jessica, now does he? OK suh-boss! (j/k)
No really, it's no problemo. I relayed to Jessica that it would be OK for her to come to me anytime at school if she needed. Wow, though.--10 years old in a foreign country where you can't speak the language? Good luck to her! ..Then again, that could be a dream for a kid--she won't have to do any homework because she can't read or write any of the assignments. Wow, cakewalk for her!
It seemed longer ago than last September that I first met the then 9 year old, pint-sized Australian blonde, whose father referred to me as a "Negro" and whose mother owned a horse of a questionably peculiar name.
A couple of teachers had informed me prior that she would be returning at the end of April, but the time came so fast.
When I got to school this morning, immediately the principal quickly came up to me, before I got into the staffroom even, and said "Jessica's here! Please come into my office." I took a second to get my hat off and rest my bag.
I went into the principal's room, and there she was, little Jessica, now in the 5th grade, along with some Japanese lady who I presumed was escorting her.
"Hi Jessica, welcome back!," I politely offered.
"Hi," she coyly replied. She seemed much more shy than when I first met her.
I chatted with her a bit and shared my greetings. Everyone else just stood by smiling while we conversed in English. I felt like some sort of English ambassador. The lady escorting her handed me a folded piece of paper. "This is from Ian," she said. It was a handwritten letter to me from Jessica's father.
I read the letter silently to myself. In it, Mr. Watson expressed that he would like for Jessica to be able to come discuss any school matters, if any, with me, since I would be the only person with whom she could communicate with in English. So, Massuh Watson wants the Negro-boy to tend ta lil Miss Jessica, now does he? OK suh-boss! (j/k)
No really, it's no problemo. I relayed to Jessica that it would be OK for her to come to me anytime at school if she needed. Wow, though.--10 years old in a foreign country where you can't speak the language? Good luck to her! ..Then again, that could be a dream for a kid--she won't have to do any homework because she can't read or write any of the assignments. Wow, cakewalk for her!
Apr 15, 2004
U.S. TAX DAY '04
Today was the deadline for filing U.S. taxes. Got mine done and sent over spring break, so I should be straight with the IRS.
It was also my birthday today. I had a pretty normal day, mostly. In the morning teacher's meeting, Yamada-sensei asked me to stand at my desk. At first I didn't know why, then he said
"Today's your birthday?"
"Yes, it is," I answered.
Then everyone proceeded to sing the 'Happy Birthday Song' in English. That was a nice surprise.
I taught the new 1st graders for the first time today. In class 1-1, the kids sang the birthday song in English, which the teacher had prepped them right before class. They did a good job. In class, I formally introduced myself to them for the first time. Afterwards, the kids got to ask me questions in Japanese, which I answered in English. One boy asked me "Why is your hair like wool?," which the kids got a chuckle out of. The homeroom teacher went on to explain that everyone has different types of hair. It didn't take long for the kids to start grabbing me. After a few minutes I had a small swarm developing about my legs and waist. I couldn't take a full step without being yanked and inappropriately probed. One little boy was relentless, almost pulling my pants down. The homeroom teacher had to peel him off of me. I guess, to them, I was like a walking swing set.
In class 1-2, the kids wished me happy birthday, and some little girls had plucked some tiny little flowers from the school garden. Somebody handed me a leaf, someone else, an acorn. By the time I got all my "presents," I had a tiny little bouquet in hand. It was probably one of the cutest scenes ever.
At 4th period, I was invited to class 2-1, where the 2nd graders gave me a stack of handmade birthday cards, and origami animals. Real heart-warming stuff, I tell ya.
I've been having lunch with the 6th graders of Class 6-1 all week. Today at lunch, one boy asked me how to say "You make me sick" in English. I didn't want to give them any ammo, so with a straight face, I said "I love you." They were kinda doubtful at first, but once I said it in a disgusted tone, they started buying it. They started testing it out on each other right away. Heheh. Bad sensei.
Another kid asked me about the "f-word." I just looked at him and pretended like I didn't know what he was talking about. He kept repeating it, as if to jog my memory. "Is that English?" I asked.
It was also my birthday today. I had a pretty normal day, mostly. In the morning teacher's meeting, Yamada-sensei asked me to stand at my desk. At first I didn't know why, then he said
"Today's your birthday?"
"Yes, it is," I answered.
Then everyone proceeded to sing the 'Happy Birthday Song' in English. That was a nice surprise.
I taught the new 1st graders for the first time today. In class 1-1, the kids sang the birthday song in English, which the teacher had prepped them right before class. They did a good job. In class, I formally introduced myself to them for the first time. Afterwards, the kids got to ask me questions in Japanese, which I answered in English. One boy asked me "Why is your hair like wool?," which the kids got a chuckle out of. The homeroom teacher went on to explain that everyone has different types of hair. It didn't take long for the kids to start grabbing me. After a few minutes I had a small swarm developing about my legs and waist. I couldn't take a full step without being yanked and inappropriately probed. One little boy was relentless, almost pulling my pants down. The homeroom teacher had to peel him off of me. I guess, to them, I was like a walking swing set.
In class 1-2, the kids wished me happy birthday, and some little girls had plucked some tiny little flowers from the school garden. Somebody handed me a leaf, someone else, an acorn. By the time I got all my "presents," I had a tiny little bouquet in hand. It was probably one of the cutest scenes ever.
At 4th period, I was invited to class 2-1, where the 2nd graders gave me a stack of handmade birthday cards, and origami animals. Real heart-warming stuff, I tell ya.
I've been having lunch with the 6th graders of Class 6-1 all week. Today at lunch, one boy asked me how to say "You make me sick" in English. I didn't want to give them any ammo, so with a straight face, I said "I love you." They were kinda doubtful at first, but once I said it in a disgusted tone, they started buying it. They started testing it out on each other right away. Heheh. Bad sensei.
Another kid asked me about the "f-word." I just looked at him and pretended like I didn't know what he was talking about. He kept repeating it, as if to jog my memory. "Is that English?" I asked.
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