A Few Quick Stories

Belated Christmas Story
As some of you may or may not know, I was asked by the janitor/gardener at one of my schools to join him at a nursery school to do some role playing. Those of you that know me, know that I enjoy a good role-playing game as much as the next, so how could I not join in this festivity? Pretending to be Santa Clause has never been one of my life-long goals but it would provide me with a story to tell, I told myself. Those people that know me are probably asking, "Why would you pretend to be Santa? You're the biggest Scrooge I know." And to you I respond with the sound of my tongue and lips vibrating faster than the speed of light to expel tiny saliva particles in your direction (a.k.a a raspberry). Refer to this video if you are still having difficulty understanding. For background information, my problem with Christmas in the US is that everyone walks around with holier-than-thou attitudes and pretends like Christmas is something spiritual and special, but when Black Friday and December 26th roll around people are stomping, trampling and squashing other humans just to get to the fresh, new deals. At least in Japan there is no illusion that this is a consumer holiday, it is purely a day to keep the economy going. *steps off of his soapbox*

That being said, I have no qualms about lying to Japanese children about the existence of two Santas, one portly Japanese Santa and one double-bearded, Godzilla-sized American Santa. I am sure that to the children the play which the nursery school teachers had put on seemed like illusion and devilry but there are very few shocking things more than seeing a large American man with beard trying to keep the fake, white Santa beard from being inhaled with every breath. Overall, the afternoon went well. The kids were shocked at first but were more intrigued as the present giving session came to a close. When we left the room, the teachers released the children like dogs of war. They pounded on the glass of the back room in a desperate attempt to catch a glimpse of the mysterious double bearded man as he escaped out the back window in a leather jacket and beanie.

New Year's in Tokyo
I rang in the New Year in Tokyo this year. It was an exciting weekend of drinking and walking around town aimlessly. Being that my college buddy, TJ, and his friend Liz had already been to Tokyo several times between them and I was terribly sick of sightseeing, we decided to see the city as a resident would see the city. TJ had a Chinese friend who lived in Tokyo and called him to come hang out with us on New Year's Eve. Kang (sp?) brought several of his friends along. We decided to wander around our hotel to look for a place to eat with 9 people, last minute. We eventually found a place at a Chinese restaurant called RakuRaku. Coincidentally, we were staying in the China town of Tokyo and there were about 5 RakuRaku restaurants located within earshot of the first restaurant, about 6 Family Mart convenient stores on every corner in this particular neighborhood and a Denny's which, despite the name, did not serve Denver Omelets, pancakes or Grand Slams.

I never thought it would happen to me, but we spent the first half of the New Year sitting around a huge round table eating delicious, yet questionable, Chinese food, drinking Chinese firewater, and talking (or listening) to Chinese people in Tokyo. It was quite surreal.

After dinner, Kang and his friends went to Tokyo Tower and Liz went back to the hotel. This left TJ and I to replay so many college nights...playing games and drinking. We went to a darts bar and passed the New Year by making fun of each other's darts abilities and watching the Japanese version of the New York countdown at Tokyo Tower on tv. After that bar, we retired to another bar and began to consume, which would come to be known as my downfall, a liter of beer at 1:30am. There is a famous bar in Japan called The Hub which is famous for sleazy Japanese women, horny foreigners and liter beakers filled with swill called Japanese beer. According to TJ's demands we were eying the women in the bar. Next to us there were two girls who were getting hit on by foreigners and Japanese men throughout the night. Finally there was a lull in the onslaught and I told TJ to switch seats with me when I went to the bathroom. When I returned from the bathroom, he had engaged the hotter of the two women in conversation and had pulled them over the table closer to us. As TJ worked his magic on the attractive one, he left me alone with the one that spoke ZERO English and looked like a Japanese female version of Moe Howard from the Three Stooges. This was fine. I wasn't remotely interested in her but it was the first time that I was TJ's grenade-jumper. As the beakers emptied and the bar crowd thinned, these girls were getting tired and began asking where we were staying. TJ and I eyed each other. This was all the conversation we needed. We told them nothing! It was quite the confidence boost for me, it was the first time I had a long conversation in Japanese with another human being. It just goes to show that liquid courage does wonders for interpersonal communication.

空手の新年会(karate no shinnenkai)(Karate New Year Meeting)
There was nothing terribly special about the New Year as a foreigner in Japan. There are a few questions you always receive: "What shrine did you visit on New Year's Day?" or "What will you do for New Year's now that you are so far away from your family?" So it is always a shocker when you tell them that (a) you didn't visit a shrine because praying to gods for successful love life is not your idea of "starting the New Year off right" and (2) New Year's Day is a time for recovering from New Year's Eve when you spent half of the night stumbling around town trying to remember what day it was. So I find the shinnenkai ritual to be a bit strange in Japan. Basically, people get together and tell each other to do well in the new year and to try their best to be successful. I don't mean to sound negative, but it seemed like a hilarious group therapy session with Stewart Smalley. The meeting went as such: 80 people (men, women, children) crammed together in the second floor practice dojo at the main headquarters for our karate school. There was just barely enough room to stand up straight, but then we all had to kneel on the hardwood floor. Soke-sensei (the founder's son) entered the room and gave a (thankfully) short speech about how we all need to do our best this year to overcome obstacles in our karate training and how having a focused mind, heart and spirit are essential to being successful. Then he left the room and left all of us in the room to organize how we were going to proceed with the rest of the ceremony. Everyone lined up according to rank and in groups of 5-8, they approached Soke-sensei, knelt and said thank you for teaching us and happy New Year. At this point, the other instructors poured cups of liquor for the adults in the group and they shared in a small toast. After the first few shots of sake, Soke looked a bit red. By the time the last students came through, Soke-sensei looked like the liquor had take a bit of a toll. There is nothing like starting the morning off with a dozen shots of gold-laced sake. At the end of the ceremony, Soke-sensei gave us all 500yen as お年玉(New Year Money) and we took a picture outside of the dojo.

Overall, it was a fun and unique Winter vacation.
Gio

p.s. At the time of writing this, my office smelled of dried cat food.

An Existential Question or Ten

Does wearing that sweater make you want to play the trombone?
Is the trombone controlling the man's thoughts and forced him to purchase the sweater?
Do you get a free trombone when you buy the sweater?
Do you get a free trombone when you hug that lady?
Do you get a free sweater when you hug that lady, but only if playing a trombone?
Do you get a free lady when you wear that sweater while playing the trombone?
Isn't it difficult playing the trombone when you have some woman hanging all over you?
Isn't it difficult to hug that woman when you are holding a trombone?
How many different poses did they try before the marketing executive decided on this one?
How many different sweaters did they try before the marketing executive decided on this one?
How many different brass instruments did they try before the marketing executive decided on this one?
Is the reason that the trombone is in this picture to allude to some teenage sexual inuendo to make me believe that if I bought that sweater and that trombone I might get to "trombone" someone?

I don't know the answers to these questions. But, what I do know is that I really want to try that trombone on.

The Great 2009 Jenga Hustle

It was a dark and cloudless night. The spirits were numerous on this All Hallow's Eve. Greasers, students, ducks and girls in bear costumes were roaming the streets in droves. But this is not a story of fright and other such base human emotions. This is a story of loss, con, and trickery.

I had seen him in the bar before, skulking in the plentiful shadows, surveying the room. At the mention of his game of choice, a spark ignited in his eyes. Opportunity. Upon choosing his target group, he gives the bartender a slight nod and a raised eyebrow. She casual reaches under the bar and pulls out a small red box filled with small rectangular blocks of wood with a strange incantation engraved on the sides, Jenga.

As she approached the target group with the hustlers ammunition in tow, a faint but recognizable smirk appeared on the hustler's face. It was the smirk of experience. A smirk of victory.

The group, a greaser, a high school student, and a recently decapitated duck, unwittingly set up their game to enjoy a few minutes of board game splendor in the dark recesses of bar, as the hustler stalked and noted his strategy. After a few excited moments as the tower collapsed, the hustler staggered over to the table, clearly feigning intoxication. He slammed his glass down as an introduction, the tower shook.

The Proposal
He stated in an unclear and slightly slurred speech,“Care to make a wager?” The three looked at each other suspiciously...“What could this drunk possibly want?”All three of them thought. “I want to play Jenga with you. If the three of you can beat me, I will buy you each of you a drink. But if I win, the three of you will buy me two drinks.”The hustler gargled out. Of course at this point, the three knew that this guy was a hustler, but agreed anyway for sake of an interesting story, such as the one I am telling you right now.

In an attempt to not get cheated, though they knew it was coming eventually, the costumed three argued over the rules with‘Josh’the hustler. 1) You can use only one hand to remove the blocks. 2) You must put the spent blocks back on the top, perpendicular to top row. 3) You cannot remove blocks from the top row. Three terribly simple rules. Terribly over simple rules.

The game began. On his first move, the hustler removed a block and twisted the tower. It was at this point that they knew for sure that the game was over. Thought they fought a valiant battle, the costumed three eventually were defeated and paid the hustler his two drinks. He stepped up from the table, money in hand, and walked to the bartender. They exchanged a glance and a handshake. It is uncertain if that was all that was exchanged...

The Background
I have had many experiences in my relatively short life on this planet. But there is one emotional experience I have always wondered about. That is the emotional, physical and physiological response to getting hustled by a hustler. Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought I would encounter a hustler in Japan, so I was caught when the action happened. I smelled a fish from the beginning but could not resist to promise of free drinks.

For those of you who do not know what a "hustle" is, I suggest you look up The Hustler with Paul Newman and Jackie Gleason. If you do not know what Jenga is...jump off a bridge because you have been missing out on one of the most amazing games to ever grace the planet.

久しぶりだね It has been a while, eh?

*To be read in a typical overly epic television show announcer voice*

"In the season finale of Gio and the Land of the Rising Sun, we found that our hero would be enjoying a vacation on the Islands of Hong Kong and Macau. And now, the much anticipated and much talked about return of Gio and the Land of the Rising Sun. Now in vivid Technicolor and High Definition. Or something."

On the Special Administrative Regions of Hong Kong and Macau

Well, since it has been over a month...I do not remember a damned thing. No, just kidding...(but seriously...not a damned thing.) Luckily, I only remember the terrible things and the hilarious things. If all you want to know is if I had a good time, then the answer is, "Yes, it was okay." Now you can skip to the next emboldened section entitled, "History of the World Part II."

Oh, Hong Kong, how easy it would be to despise you. I mean, with all of the people...everywhere, the constantly leaking air conditioners dropping dirty water on pedestrians from thirty floors above, the ever-present feeling of impending doom and danger from cars and buses, the wonderful and clockwork scowls present on all of the waiters/waitresses, and the unending feeling of being in someone's way...How could I not hate you, Hong Kong? But somehow, I was able to retain my objectivity and come out feeling somewhat positive about city. Despite my post-travels positivity, I have no desire to ever go back.

I suppose I should explain. From the moment I stepped off the plane I had the sneaking and constant suspicion that I was being ripped off by someone. I don't know why. Perhaps, it was merely the knowledge that there are no set prices on anything in the city and the locals expect you to haggle for their purposely overcharged items. I am not the type of person to haggle and I felt bad trying to convince a merchant to take 50 Hong Kong dollars instead of 80 for a deck of Bruce Lee cards. The inane nature of arguing over $3USD for a deck of cards hit home when one of my friends went to the same merchant and bought the same deck of cards for $5HKD cheaper. My brain almost exploded all over the Jade Market. It wasn't the money...it was the principle of it all. This is not the way economics is supposed to work. If you are willing to take any amount of money, why even have a limit, or a currency. Maybe I should have offered the merchant two chicken feet and a glass of cool ice water (which I would have undoubtedly received from a scowling half naked street vendor).

Additionally, from the moment I stepped off of the express train from the airport, I was being accosted by foreigners trying to sell me custom made suits. On every street, on every island, outside of every subway station there was inevitable an Indian man (or 6) lurking behind mailboxes or pacing on corners waving business cards in men's faces tempting them to respond. The situation progressed the same way every time I stepped out of the hotel. And it got so bad that by the end of my trip I didn't want to leave the hotel. There was one famous incident where I had left my traveling companions to escape for some Starbucks joy and solitude. On my way back to the hotel, I was attacked by 12 suit hawkers in 3 blocks. And on one encounter the frustration and the desire to escape the man's purple shirted presence led me into the street and almost to my immediate demise at the hands of a speeding taxi. Honestly, the instant death would have been preferable to the 30 seconds I spent standing next to this man attempting to tell him that I didn't want his cheap suit. Of course, the game totally changes when they know you speak English. It got to the point where I could feel their presence from half a block away. It was like some anti-annoyance Jedi sense. Finally, I just started yelling at them so that they would leave me alone. And by the end of the trip I wanted to carry an unsheathed sword around the city ominously. I contemplated buying a suit and walking up and down the street taking all of their business cards. (Like I wanted to wear a suit in Hong Kong in August...it was 98degrees with 1700% humidity.)

Overall, it was an entertaining trip. And though I have no desire to ever go back, that doesn't mean I didn't have fun. I have entertaining memories of the "Wice Nudol" (a.k.a "Rice Noodle") lady who looked like a combination of Anne Ramsey (Mama Fratelli from the Goonies), and Baaba (the old witch from Miyazaki's Spirited Away). We ordered 4 of the cheapest beers on the menu, thinking them to be human sized beers, to our surprise they were 1.5Liter bottles. When they arrived, we all laughed. I also have fond memories of eating Peking duck at a restaurant across the street from the hotel...twice, consuming a wonderful sized steak and a couple of huge German beers at a German beer hall, and of touring all of the city and taking nice pictures, despite the miserable typhoon weather. My favorite place was the Avenue of Stars, where terrible Hong Kong martial arts actors/actresses go to rest.

As for Macau, I am a bit more undecided. Seeing as we only spent a few hours there I am unsure if I saw everything I wanted to see. I would have liked to go gambling but none of my traveling companions were up for that. I also noticed that Macau is very beautiful, but seeing as taking one step out of the air conditioning in this part of the world in August is the same as jumping into an Old Spice scented pool, I felt rather uncomfortable leaving the hotel. In the end, I would like to go back to Macau I think, when I have tons of money and air conditioned business suits. China can keep Hong Kong though, I don't want it.

"Next time on Gio and the Land of the Rising Sun, Silver Week extravaganza: fun, games, drinking, traveling and photos."

Up, Up and Away Junior Birdman

I leave for Hong Kong tomorrow. I expect shenanigans, troublemaking, and all kinds of merry-making. I will attempt to update while I'm there but I may not have access to a computer.