Tag Archives: Enkai

Down and Up the Eastern Coast

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Left for the office retreat Saturday afternoon around noon.  Filled up two cars with junk food, booze and board of education workers.

The drinking began early.  My ability to stay awake on long car rides if I’m not the one driving is not good.  On the drive out I lasted for around three beers and an hour.  Apparently my coworkers didn’t like me passing into never-land, so and woke me up time and again.  I did not appreciate this, and when I kept passing back out, I think they got the idea.

Woke up for a stop about an hour outside our destination, in time to try my first Hokkaido micro-brew, which was delicious.

Arrived at the hotel as the sun was coming down,

Sunset
after checking in, we changed into attire fitting the evening’s mood, then met up in one of the rooms to continue the talk and hops consumption.  Around 7 was time to clean.  I was sad when I discovered the hotel did not have an onsen, but their large public bath did the trick.  Was one big bathtub that was medium level onsen pool hot.

Had another catnap before dinner at 8:30 – long week and booze catching up to me – then went down to feast.  Apparently the crab, or kani, in this region is famous.  Between the ten of us we must’ve consumed at least a thousand of the orange creatures.

The Org ... Feast

I’d previously described the dinner as a food orgasm, though Alex pointed out to me today, given we were eating crabs, using sex as an analogy here may not be the best idea.

Part of the reason I’d decided to nap instead of drink my through my fatigue on the drive out was because I was preparing for what I assumed to be a long evening of drinking.  Instead, everyone’d had enough after eating and went to sleep at 8:30.

Of course I had plenty of energy, and couldn’t fall asleep till after midnight, which was sweet by myself.

Next day had a big breakfast and stopped at a local fish-market before starting the three hour drive back.  So, essentially we all paid $140 and drove six hours roundtrip for a nice crab dinner.  I didn’t totally understand, but am not really in a position to ask questions.

On the way home, we did stop for a nice lunch at a hotel with a fantastic onsen.  I had my first taste of a rotemburo – outdoor pool -  while it was snowing.  Being in scalding hot water with snow falling on your face looking at the ocean is an experience I hope to repeat soon and often.

Heartwarming moment of the drive back was a group sing along to Simon and Garfunkel’s “The Sounds of Silence.”

Soon after arriving home, I headed right back to continue driving North along Hokkaido’s Eastern coast.  Hokkaido’s #1 cutest gaijin non-married couple had flown in for the weekend to experience a real winter.
While I was mad at them for not coming down to Hamatonbetsu, I forgave them and made the drive up to Wakkanai to meet up.  Wakkanai is Soya sub-prefecture’s, a sub-prefecture is similar to a US county, biggest city.

Japanese getting into the X-Mas spirit.

After a slow drive through the snow at night, I arrived at the Sun Hotel.  Walking up to the front desk I said in my bad Japanese that I had some friends staying there.   Clearly there was no possibility I had Japanese friends staying there, so the front desk put two and two together and put me on the phone to Jay and Claire’s room, before I even mentioned their names.

After catching up for a bit and hearing that James had told Jay and Claire they wouldn’t even recognize me after all the weight I’d gained in my face – they said they recognized me – we took a cab to dinner.  Due to a mix-up in location and our friend who lives in Wakkanai did not join us for an hour.

It was fine though, gave us a chance to talk, and to meet some Russians.

Given Wakkanai’s location as Japan’s northernmost city, it gets a lot of Russian fishermen to visit.  The street signs have Japanese, English and Russian.  Relations between the two parties can apparently be frigid at times.  As such, Wakkanai is the only city I’ve been in, where anti-gaijin racism is very in-your-face.  Saturday night, my friends were told they were not welcome at eight out of the ten bars they tried to patronize.

After committing multiple Japanese cultural faux-pas, the drunk Russian gentelman spoke to us for a bit in his mother tongue, and then in a brazenly poor man’s don juan-esque move, encouraged Claire to “come with” him on his evening out right in front of her boyfriend.  He also told her she was beautiful.

His friend who spoke a little English and was less drunk, apologized for his comrade’s behavior.

Nic, Claire and Jay (small head facing away) at dinner.

Soon afterwards Nic arrived, and we sat down for a feast of food accompanied by two hours of all-you-can-drink revelry.  The liquids only cost fifteen bucks.  Found out at dinner, that news of my meeting with a principal at one school over sagging my pants had made it all the way up to Wakkanai.  Small world.

After all the beer the night before I focused Sunday evening around Shochu on the rocks.  Was not the wisest decision, if good for my supposedly increasing figure.  After dinner we met up with James and headed to another restaurant for drinks and snacks.  I was flabbergasted to find their french fries were delicious.

They were easily amongst the top two french fries I’ve ever had outside America.  The other challenger for the top spot being a small cafe in Marseille.  Perhaps if you’re jonesing for fries outside the red, white and blue, the place to go is to the nearest industrial port city?

Alex, who’d been at a friends’ Japanese wedding also met up with us at some point.  Was shocked to find out that at Japanese weddings, the guests pay for food and drink.  Then, $130 gets you neither open bar nor buffet food.  Being the consumate professional he is; however, Alex did not let those disappointments stand in the way of leading his team dance in honor of the proud couple.

The finest teachers in Hokkaido in their finest hour.

Night ended early in a sense at a bar.  Woke up around 10 this morning to take Jay and Claire to the airport.  Was laying in bed as they packed, before their noon flight.

At 10:45, Jay re-read his ticket to excitedly discover his flight was in fact at 11:15.  Safely cruising at 90 km on the black-ice roads, we got there around 11:10.  In a true sign of Japanese courtesy, an airline representative greeted my friends outside with a worried look on her face.  She quickly got them checked in and onto their flight.  Can’t say the Japanese don’t do service well.

Stopped in a Mr. Donut on my way out of town, while Alex did some shopping.  Had an old fashioned donut for the first time since I was a kid.  Wasn’t quite a madeleine, but brought back some old memories of Tokyo.  Mainly of the Mr. Donut shop we used to patronize a lot, and the Hard Rock cafe it was close by to.  Hard Rock was particularly cool for its giant King Kong gorilla hanging on the side of the building.  Also thought about what memories will come back when I eat at a Tokyo McDonald’s again.

Alex

Smiled when I thought about how all my childhood memories coming back were all centered around chain food stores.

Dropped Alex off in Sarufutusu on my drive South home.  Had an interesting talk about our separate experiences here.  Alex’s Japanese is a lot better than mine, and because of that he can hear some things I can’t, obviously.  He’s not quite as Japanese loving as I am, and pointed out that some things which are bothering him and how they might bother me too if I could understand them.  I think he is probably somewhat right.  My blissful ignorance of the language leaves me in sort of a child-like state where everything is good and happy.  Got particularly bad Saturday night at the office dinner.  I really didn’t say anything at dinner, and understood almost nothing.  Its gotten to the point where my lack of Japanese is keeping me from getting to the next level of understanding.  If I want to do this year right, I need to discipline myself.  I still haven’t even memorized the alphabet yet.  Ultimately I think I will continue to disagree with Alex about certain things about Japan and her people, but my evidence in the argument at this point is fairly empty.

Alex also asked how I planned to impress women wearing my boots,

My Hobochique Boots

Stopped off at Lake Kutcharo to see the swans when I got home.  Was a brilliant day, with no snow and tons of sunlight.  Was happy to see my friends had not yet left town, despite the cold.  Feel a certain kinship with them as transient residents of Hamatonbetsu.

Fly By

Block Party

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Wednesday I taught at the Hamatonbetsu junior high school.  My four classes went well, but the most memorable parts of the day came outside the classroom.

The first came when discussing social plans with some of my colleagues.  “Bomberman,” whom was the leader in my recent trek through time, mentioned he wanted to go out again, this time to a bar.  I said fantastic.  Through a translator, this is how the conversation proceeded,

Bomberman: “We go to bar near time.”

Me: “Great, soon.”  Thinking Friday night.

Translator: “No, in Japanese `near time` does not mean soon.”

Me: “OK.” Used to the difficulties of cross-cultural-communication at this point, not surprised, thinking maybe the weekend after this one.

Bomberman and the translator have a meeting, which I cannot understand, each checking their deskcalenders with a serious expression.  Finally they reach some sort of agreement of the proper scope of `near time,` relative to November 19th.

Translator: “December 26th.”

Earlier that morning I had been asked to attend gym class during 4th period for basketball, by a student who self-described himself as *the Japanese Michael Jordan.”  I was happy he knew who MJ was.  Watching his skills later, I quickly realized he was far better than MJ ever`d been, even if the Japanese version was unreliable making layups.

The skills of all the players were not the sharpest I`d seen, but the officialness of the gym class was.  For the girls and boys games they had electronic scoreboards working, as well as one student running the floor as a referee, with some sort of electronic whistle.  I was blown away.

Playing with the boys I fared alright, missed a layup and grabbed a few rebounds.  Later, I migrated over to the girls side, and there I found my true calling.  After scoring to open the 5:00 period, I then turned to my strength, the defensive end.

The girls were a little timid, one in particular whom caught a pass behind me to my left side.  Turning to defend the shot, I timed it perfectly.  She thought she was about about to score an easy basket.  I showed how things are done in the USA.

I elevated at least an inch off the ground, and doing my best Bill Russell imitation swatted the ball just as it left her hands sending it crashing into the wall.  The gym teacher and fellow students started laughing.  The girl may not have appreciated it, but in my house if you`re gonna try and score you better not come soft to the hole or you`ll get squashed.

It had already been a good day, and was going to end even better with my first Japanese birthday party.  It was a gaijin heavy event, as myself, Chris and his wife all were kindly invited to share in the evening`s festivities.  Chris immediately embarassed my blog posting present by bringing along a bottle of Johnnie Walker black.

The food was spectacular all night, ranging from sashimi to tonkatsu to okonomyaki.  It was capped off with not one, but two cheesecakes, the better one which was home made by Ki-San’s daughter.

Birthday Boy

Birthday Boy

Post Number Two

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8/16/2008 – 8/21/2008
DAYS 21 – 26

Before we delve into my Sapporo business trip, let’s sample a cup o’ joe at a tastefully named spot I found.

When we last spoke I had spent almost three weeks in the inaka and while being a d-list celebrity, getting interviewed by the local paper and partying every day was far more than I expected or deserve; I was looking forward to a brief stop in Hokkaido’s biggest city.

Sapporo Tower at Night

Sapporo Tower at Night

My travel expenses were covered by work, as I was attending my “Hokkaido JET Orientation.  It was held at the Akarenga, Hokkaido’s old government building.  The first two days were a series of meetings mostly focused on teaching.  I got tips on lesson plans, dealing with wild Japanese children who have, in the past, grabbed ALT‘s bottoms and a self-introduction activity I later used in class.

The JET program has a reputation for hand-holding, and as such other topics covered included insurance, office etiquette, homesickness – workshop named “Cheer up Charlie,” which I did not appreciate – and earthquakes.  My favorite parts were one, winning candy for being one of a select few teachers whose attire was up to Japanese code, and a crash course in origami.

Not quite a professional yet, but maybe next week.

Not quite a professional yet, but maybe next week.

The final day we drove to the Historical Museum of Hokkaido, which had a fascinating exhibit on the Ainus a people of Hokkaidian descent whom I hope to study more while I am here.  One of the curators even gave us a private lecture on Hokkaido’s history.  We also stopped at the Historical Village of Hokkaido for a bit, to take a short trip back in time and see old Japan.

Aside from the scheduled events, what would a business trip be without a little networking?

To that end, all Japanese Keitai are equipped with a nifty feature named “infared,” which is the 21st century version of a business card.  Simply point your phone at a new friend’s and in a slightly phallic move “send” them your info whilst they “receive.”  Within seconds, they have your name, phone number(s), email addresse(s) and even blood type.

The definite highlight of Sapporo was sitting at a table with four gaijin dudes as we all giggled like Japanese schoolgirls infaredding each other.

My second favorite aspect of the trip was observing what I will call, for lack of a more accurate description, “the Scene.”

The roofed outdoor arcade/wonderland pictured above featured shops crammed in next to, on top of and below each other as far as the eye could see.  Far more engaging, however, were the performers.

There were hopeless romantics wailing away on guitar strings, break dance teams time and again rehearsing their moves, a painter exposing his mind’s eyes on a canvas and although I did not see him perform, I met a white dude, who’d been in Japan eighteen years as a juggler.

In general, these artists did not come out until after dark.  Which begs the natural question, “Charlie what were you doing outside your room after dark on a business trip?”

To start, Monday night there was an enkai at the Kirin Beer Gardens.  Fitting with Japanese culture, you cannot have a work function without some sort of party.  Sadly though, that stop was a bit of a disappointment.  The food, while fine, was the same lamb, bean sprouts and onions over and over again to cook at your table.  The beer flowed, but not quite like wine, as I was consistently annoyed with the tardiness our servers had getting us drinks within our two hour “all you can drink” stay.

The most embarrassing part, though, especially as an American trying to counteract certain sterotypes were the numerous drunk, “Ugly Americans” on display.

I am not trying to be cool when I mention I have had a drink or two in my day.  As such, it takes a bit to get me going crazy and yelling, it is a state of being I am careful to avoid, especially here in Japan.  Unfortunately, there were quite a few, shall I say, immature drinkers in the group and within literally the first hour, were screaming at the top of their lungs and being rambunctious.

I am not trying to put myself above them, but when some Japanese people see a group of over a hundred forgeiners together, and all the hear is “YEAAAH!” from across the restaurant, it kind of overshadows the quiet, respectful Americans and reinforces whatever negative opinions they happened to have about our people.

ANYWAY, thankfully most of the amateurs were ready for bed by ten PM.  A smaller group of us went off to a Ni-Ju-Kai, or second party, at a local club which had opened its main dance area specially for us.  It too was decent, but after a bit, one of my friends and I decided this was not the scene we came to Japan for, and went off in search of something with more Japanese flavor.

James, on the left, left the club with me. Jay, on the right, was distracted by an English Rose.

James, on the left, left the club with me. Jay, on the right, was distracted by an English Rose.

Oddly enough, after meeting a local who took it upon himself to be our official Sapporo nightlife guide, that meant going right back to the same club.  Around the time the foreigners party was ending, a smaller, private party was just getting started.  We were the only gaijin there, and it was exactly what we wanted.

Talked to a let of people, and in the strangest of small world moments, even met someone from my adopted hometown of Hamatonbetsu.

That may not sound remarkable, but it’d be like meeting someone from a 4,000 person town in rural Iowa on one of three nights out you had while visiting Chicago.

Making sure I had enough rest to be on my game for the meetings, I did also explore some other parts of the Sapporo nightlife.  Favorites were:

  • “Rad Brothers” They brew their own “Rad Ale.”  Had a conversation with a local headed to L.A. for a business trip about why “Guns n’ Roses” were only cool in an ironic sense these days, that got badly lost in translation, and I think I ended up offending him.
  • “Bagus”  Small bar on the second floor of a building who seats about ten people.  Owner treated us like kings, giving us the finest Sake I’ve ever tasted for free, while regaling us with stories about boxing around the world.
  • “Otakosan” Another small bar, seats 9, which was empty save the bartender and a couple.  They were quite friendly though, and bought me some melt-in-your-mouth-heaven Takoyaki [*] balls.

Closing out the trip, my last morning, I discovered my true calling – as a skate filmmaker,

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tCZ8wzQkMgo&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0x3a3a3a&color2=0x999999]

(Please click here and then select the lower right corner button if you cannot read the video text.)

Riding the train back to my clean home (thanks to a two-beer four hour cleaning marathon I had the day before I left while listening to the Raidohead show I saw in Virginia) I fell asleep about halfway through my can of Sapporo, with Omiyage for my coworkers in tow, resting up for my first official day as a teacher, happy to have found a new city to love.

Écrit près Charlie Danoff | Homepage

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EDITOR’S NOTES:

  • I made a few corrections to the first post.  All changes have been marked with strike-through text, like this.  The last date of the entry was changed from 8/16/08 to 8/15/08.  Also, Bonodori was misspelled, and has been corrected from Balmodori.
  • My Flickr Photostream for Post One has been changed to correctly give credit to who took the photos, as since they are of me, I obviously did not take them.
  • Finally, and most importantly, I would like to thank everyone who read my last post, especially those people nice enough to comment on it.

UPDATE: CHICAGO (17 Oct. 2012) – Jennifer Jenkins was kind enough to point out my original Ainu link <http://www.ainu-museum.or.jp/english/english.html> was broken and gave me a wonderful replacement!

Post Number One

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DAYS 1 – 21 20
07.26.2008 – 08.16.2008 08.15.2008

Essentially slept the entire thirteen hour flight and two hour bus ride from Chicago O’Hare to the Keio Plaza Hotel.

I shall let you draw your own conclusions as to my choices of how to spend my last evening in the states.

That said, the morning of my departure started perfectly. Good-byes to Mom and Dad, and more importantly I ate a well-balanced breakfast of a Dog, Chicago Style and my lifelong McDonalds’ staple:

* 2 Hamburgers, no pickles

* Large Fries

* Large Coke

Less is more, simple is beautiful and that meal is enlightenment.

In the interests of time, and more importantly taste, I will skimp over the details of my first possibly nefarious evening in Tokyo. I shall only reveal that I stopped by a club owned by a world famous individual and was later offered an invitation “upstairs” by an absolutely stunning woman.

First three days in Japan’s capital were spent in meetings along with hundreds of other new JETs about our new roles as cultural ambassadors and promoters of “internationalization” here in Japan. The highlight was our first “kampai!” by the President of CLAIR, which in traditional Japanese style meant staring at free booze and an insane food spread for over a half hour until the boss man was ready.

Following orientation filled with a thousand plus gaijins, it was not until I landed in Sapporo that I had my first real “I am in Japan moment.”

One second I was walking in a pack of comfortable white people, shooting the breeze about life on top of the food chain and next thing I know, I enter a room, the name of my town is announced, and I am placed in the care of two gentlemen who barely speak English.

In case you did not already know, my Japanese level was: zenzen, or nothing.

Thankfully, I managed not to immediately demand a return ticket home and soon enough we were sitting over an awkward meal of tonkatsu. The man who turned out to be my supervisor was attempting to communicate something to me, which his facial expressions indicated I should understand.

I struggled with all my might, and then finally it came through, in a moment akin to Noah seeing the white dove, a wave of relief washed over me as I realized it was all going to be OK,

“Alkoool.”

Thirsts quenched, we became fast friends, even if I did happen to fall asleep on the six hour car ride into my town of 4,000+. As soon as we arrived, I was whisked off to a welcome enkai of about ten people who were extremely kind to me all night, filling my glass and plate at every opportunity.

It was also the beginning of what has become a daily rite of passage for me, a “challenge.”

It is usually said with a zest and a gleam in the eye as something is brought up that both the speaker and I now I do not really want to do, but inevitably will. That night it was about food. I eat ume, uni and natto! which is pronounced with an exclamation point at the end when served raw.

Surprisingly enough, advice from my father has come in handy in these situations. According to old man Danoff, the best thing to do is smile and comment on the delectable nature of the cuisine. All three items were absolutely gross in appearance, taste and worst of all texture, but my yellowed teeth beamed, nevertheless.

Was the correct play too. Every time a Japanese person finds out I “like” gnatto, I hear a very excited “oooooh.” Best times are when they bring it up, expecting me to be like, “oh my god, natto is so gross you Japanese are frigging crazy.”

Instead I play it like a poor-man’s Cool Hand Luke, “Natto? Delicious. That the best you got?”

As the days went by, it became apparent the first night was merely setting the table for the parties to come.

That weekend was the shrine festival, where I competed in a Sumo tournament. I would like to say I walked in there and showed them why “Made in the U.S.A.” will always trump “Made in Japan,” but there is a reason more Americans drive Toyotas than Chevrolets these days.

I got whooped.

I lost count of how many matches I lost in a row, but it was definitely over ten. My opponents ranged from a big-boned female younger than me, to a geezer pushing 70 at about half my weight, to a couple of guys around my age and size. They all tossed me to the turf.

The next weekend started college style, on a Thursday night, with work to do the next day, and would have tested my endurance even at my Frat Boy peak. That night was a festival at a retirement home, Balmodori Bonodori style,

Bonodori Dancing

where Taiko drums lay down a centuries old beat, and people dance in a circle round and round.

They feature cheap food and beer, which is always nice, and end with a big bingo game once everyone is nice and lubed. The prizes are usually practical, which is refreshing, going from daikon to laundry detergent to gohan.

Friday night was my official introduction to the boy’s club at the office. Dudes-only BBQ enkai at the local lake. Although they lack rhythm and dancing, the advantage of enkais is that they feature nearly unlimited food served literally right off the grill, and kegs that seemingly never get tapped.

Sat around and talked about how its a man’s world for a while, as two charcoal fueled grills were going and eat yakitori, yakisoba, yakki niku (a.k.a. Genghis Kahn) squid and my personal local favorite scallops, or hotate.

That was also the night where I was given my first official Japanese nickname:

“Beer Monstah!”

The emphasis is on the “tah.” I thought about donning the nickname for the blog, before realizing that was an utterly stupid idea.

Saturday was a neighborhood BBQ, with the same constant food and booze, only this time it featured women and children. Late that evening, I engaged in one my safest activities ever, as I ran around with 5 – 10 year olds and played with burning, white hot sparklers.

Sunday morning I was on the top of my game for the local Gold Panning Championships. I competed, but once again fared quite poorly, coming in dead last. On a good note, I did start drinking before noon. I even was given the honor of competing in a beer tasting.

Beer Monstah!

Beer Monstah!

I thought the purpose was to rank the beers 1 – 5. Only half way through did I discover the goal was to name the beer’s brand. Not familiar enough with the local mead nor kanji, I went 0 for 5.

Went home around 1:00 for a quick nap, before manning up for a different retirement home Balmodori Bonodori-style festival. That night, I made my live Taiko debut, after only being in the club for around a week. Did not fare too well, but did get feer food and beer for my efforts, so really I won.

One would think Sunday would be the end of my blissful/torturous run, but no, Monday night was the “official” office enkai. This time a BBQ in the town office parking lot, with coed staff. Needless to say, after 6 parties in 5 days, I choose not to attend the official “ni-ju-kai,” or after party.

Instead I attended the more select ni-ju-kai at the local coffee shop, which doubles as a bar that stays open till 2:00, and an attractive 45-year old bartender whom I thought was max 30 when I first met her.

Before you ask, this was at lunch on a weekday, and no I had not had made my first bad “it’s 5:00 somewhere joke,” yet.

The following weekend of Friday the 15th, was more or less tame, with only three parties on Friday and Saturday, and Sunday off. Did manage to not completely embarrass myself at Taiko too; which is to say, I only made mistakes two out of every three notes, as opposed to each time I hit the drum.

So, there could be worse introductions than partying seemingly every day. Apparently, August is the month for festivals here. I guess people need to get it out of their system, before the eight months of winter come.

Aside from the social gatherings, life has had its difficulties, but overall has been fine.

I have been essentially adopted by a local family, who have made several meals for me, and served as my local Japanese liaison/event coordinator/translator. Have felt like a cross between a politician and rock star, as I have been paraded around to my eight different schools and am always greeted with a round of applause for being able to speak three sentences in Japanese.

Toughest times have come trying to set up my bank account and cell phone, as they required me to write my name in Japanese, which is obviously not my specialty. People were so patient with me then and always here, though, so it’s been great. Japanese hospitality is insane. Left my keys at a sushi bar, and the owner got in his car and tracked me down in town.

Granted we live in an extremely small town, and foreigners literally do stand out like aliens – complete with an Alien Registration Card – but, that is a level of attention to the customer I have never before seen.

In closing, you probably have forgotten and did not care to begin with, but with regards to my first night in Tokyo, I may have stretched the truth a little.

The club I visited was owned by Mr. Sonic. While Sonic the Hedgehog is world-famous, Club Sega is nowhere a 23-year-old man should brag about attending. Especially considering, I had to have an attendant teach me how to play the arcade games. Also, the invitation came from a woman offering a massage. Though I could be wrong here, I do not think she really liked me for my dry-funny-once-in-a-blue-moon-sarcastic-style-of-humor. Nor my personality.

Écrit près Charlie Danoff | Homepage

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