The Land of Love and Orchids

My boss' mother is a celebrated calligrapher.
As I'll be leaving the school soon, and as Japanese people are incredibly kind, her mother offered to do some calligraphy for me as a going-away present.
It was up to me to choose what characters she should write. I chose 愛(ai) 蘭(ran) 土(do). These three characters together make up the name of my beloved homeland: To fit Japanese phonetics, Ireland becomes ai-ran-do.
As I think I explained before, kanji (the Chinese characters used in the Japanese language) can have both a phonetic and idiomatic expression. So, in one way, the words I chose only represent the sounds that make up the name Ireland.
But because kanji have such beautiful, rich layers of meaning, looking at the words together also makes you think 'Land of Love and Orchids'.
It's not quite 'The Land of Saints and Scholars', Ireland's more famous 愛称 (aishou - nickname), but it isn't half bad, eh?
For those of you who are interested, my name in kanji is　巴都律句 patorikku. Unfortunately, the meaning is nonsense. At a stretch, it conveys the image of someone writing well-ordered haiku poems in the city of Paris! Doesn't that just descibe me in a nutshell!!!!
P.S. It was just a happy coincidence that my boss' mother chose to write on white paper in orange ink with a green frame (green, white and orange are the colours of the flag of the Republic of Ireland).

Ashes and Snow, Odaiba

I picked up my round-the-world ticket today. I’m really going! Yikes! It was a good five-hundred euro more expensive in the end. I guess I had a miscommunication over the phone with the clerk about the total amount of tax: The perils of buying in a foreign language. But it’s still wicked good value and I’m so happy to be able to check that all the complicated transfers are correct.
I had to pick the ticket up in the airline’s head office in Shinbashi in the centre of Tokyo. I wanted to make something of the trip so I skipped over the bay on the monorail to Odaiba. I went to a wonderful exhibition. In fact, to call it an exhibition is to do it an injustice. It was an experience, an audio-visual journey. It was called ‘ashes and snow’ and consisted of a display of images, movie and music in cavernous space called the nomadic museum.
The works are by a Canadian-born artist and documentary filmmaker, Gregory Colbert. He has travelled widely and photographed subjects in India, Egypt, Myanmar, Tonga, Sri Lanka, Kenya, and other such places.
A key point of the project is that none of the images have been digitally collaged or superimposed. All works represent what the artist actually saw through his camera lens. It can be hard to believe when you see a kneeling boy reading in front of a kneeling elephant or an African girl resting her head against a leopard’s proud shoulder.
The gallery itself is fascinating. It’s been designed by the Japanese architect, Shigeru Ban. It’s a transitory space constructed of rented steel cargo containers stacked on top of each other. The interior is formed with pillar-like paper tubing. The space has the feeling of a cathedral, with a dark and vaulted ceiling and the huge prints hanging around the walls like the Stations of the Cross.
It’s ‘nomadic’ because it can be dismantled and reassembled at any new destination. Tokyo is the third stop on the project’s journey, having already been shown in New York and California.
I was glad I went to the museum on a blustery, rainy day. The building felt like it was alive with creaking and rustling. It gave an even greater sense of the human-made and the natural intermingling.
There were many arresting images. I’ll try to upload a few of the more famous ones from the catalog. But a lot of my favourite pictures didn’t make it into the handout: The ape and human hands in a clasp echoing Adam and his Creator on the Sistine chapel ceiling. The young Buddhist trainee monk pictured with an eagle flying behind him. His serene figure became adorned with angel’s wings. The enlarged close-up of an elephant’s eye - it held such wrinkled beauty, such aged wisdom. It seemed to say, ‘You humans think you know what it’s all about, but you have no clue. I’ve been around long before you and I’ll still be here long after you’re gone.’
But for me this project was all about the video presentation. The choreography of human and animal, the classical and ethnic score, the sepia tone all worked in harmony.
Regardless of any artistic merit, the videos were stunning technically. The artist captured images underwater, in the jungle, in the desert. Hardly studio conditions! He got wild and often dangerous animals to interact with humans in incredibly close proximity. He made videos that were exhilarating, sensual and completely compelling. I couldn’t take my eyes away from the beautiful images. I can’t do them justice in words. I mean how can I explain that a man and woman literally danced under water? And not tacky synchronized swimming, but real artistic, choreographed movement. It showed the sheer beauty of their human form.
Colbert left all the works untitled and without explanation. We are each to go on our own journey, just as the exhibition does.
I believe the artist wanted to show that, though clearly not the same, animals and humans are both masterpieces of nature. We’re sharing the one planet, the one spirit. We’re on the one journey.
He chose either to put humans in an incongruous animal environment or animals out of place in a human space. In doing so, the resulting interaction highlights what binds us together and what can tear us apart.
He used some recurring themes - a trip, often represented by a boat, a river or movement like water, a secret being whispered, a book, fire. I think these were designed to show where we differ from the animal world with our intellect and expression. Then there were repeated views of people with the eyes closed - maybe underlining how we get so wrapped up in being ‘human’ we can miss out on the animal in us. And throughout it all we had the beauty of human movement and dance mirroring or complementing animal movement.
I felt he was saying we, as human, have made great advances. Yet we mustn’t ignore the fact that we share the planet with other spirits, and that the world is a more beautiful and whole place when we try to dance to the same rhythm.
I don’t know. I’m still thinking about it all. Please go and see it if it comes to a city near you and tell me what you think.

Moving is moving

I started packing up my stuff in my apartment. I will only be posting home some essentials: clothes, books, DVDs and CDs, that kind of thing. Everything else will be recycled. It's turning into a real life laundry.
As it turns out, a much needed life laundry. Half of the stuff I've been sorting through I didn't even realise I had. So not necessary.
Some of the items have been a walk down memory lane, though. I started looking through my diaries from my last trip around the world. I have clearly created a very rosy image of that trip in my mind. Reading through the actual journals tells me it was a lot harder than I remember. Out on the open road I was sick a lot! I also slept a lot: it was doze on the beach here, power nap there. That makes for interesting reading, I'll tell ya!
Looking through the old entries showed me what a different person I was then, how much I've grown and changed, how much I've achieved. One of the days, on some beach somewhere, I'd written a list of life goals. I'd totally forgotten I'd done that. And what do you know, I've only gone and achieved a whole bunch of them over the last few years. It was a really nice feeling.
And though, as I said, the diaries reminded me of the harsh reality of backpacking (I talked an awful lot about insect bites and unsanitary toilet facilities), they also reminded me of the sense of freedom, the adventure, the chance encounters and wonderful knowledge to be gained by taking off somewhere new. I'm getting the jitters thinking about how lucky I am.
I am still far, far, far from ready. But I have two months yet. My idea is to achieve a little something every day. 'Baby steps' as I'm known to say.

Around the world in how many days?

Wow! In life, you go through extended periods of nothing much happening and then everything happens all at once.
For the past few years I feel like I've been just coasting along. But in the last few weeks I've quit my job, decided to go back to graduate university full-time, and just this afternoon booked a round-the-world ticket to head back to Europe.
It's all so exciting. My life here in Japan is getting wrapped up. I'm cancelling things, cutting things off, notifying authorities. I've gone from thinking I need to ship everything I own back to Europe to thinking I don't need most of what I have and should recycle the lot. I'm making lists like a madman. I'm dividing things into categories and piles. I'm sorting and downsizing and feeling that the timing for everything is falling into place. I'm dancing to the percussion of some great cosmic clockwork.
Any yet with all I have still to do, now that all my university applications are out of the way, all I really want to think about is the cool trip home I have just reserved.
I will leave Tokyo on June 15 and head to the tropical island of Okinawa. It's the Japanese version of Hawaii and I have long dreamed of going there.
Then I'll scoot over to Korea, head down to Singapore for a few days, and then enjoy a week trekking up the Malaysian coast from Kuala Lumpur to Penang.
From there I'll head to the UAE via a short stop in Thailand for some beloved green curry. I'm very interested to see what Dubai has to offer. I've been told it's the kind of place you either love or hate. I'm interested to see them skiing in the desert in that big frozen dome they have.
From the Middle East I'll travel up to Turkey. My great Australian friend, who's been all over the world, ranked this as her favourite ever country. I'm a bit worried about safety but will do my best to avoid dangerous places.
I'll then drop into Austria for a few days. I've never been here either. I know it might not be the coolest ever destination, but it's where my folks went on their honeymoon and I feel a kind of connection to it.
And from Vienna I will make my way to wherever I get accepted into university.
The really great bonus about such a round-the-world ticket is that I know I will be able to return to the rising sun at the drop of a hat. You see, the ticket includes an open return coupon to Japan valid for a year. Plus, I will still hold a valid work visa. So, if my big return to Europe turns out to be a big disaster, my options are still open.
And all this for only 350,000yen!!! That's about 2,400 euro!!! I'm over the moon.
I am aware enough to know that being so self-involved is not healthy. Seriously, I could easily forget about work, friends, troubles, the lot and just daydream about what rucksack I'm going to buy for my trip. That can't be right.
I guess, because I'm single with no responsibilities, it's too easy for me to be as selfish and self-centred as I want. I should probably be giving this money to charity or putting it towards a retirement plan or something. But I figure we all make different choices in life. I don't have a house, a car, a family of my own. Instead I crave experiences. I want to see the world: the gypsy blood must run thick and fast in me.
I wonder if I'll ever settle down? Something to ponder as I lie on white sandy beaches, trek through lush green forests, and push my way through crowded bazaars.
Oh I can't wait.

What's the Japanese for Butthead?

The above picture is from the calendar I have hanging in my kitchen. Is it just me or does this guy totally look like he predates Beavis or Butthead? (I can never remember which one is which) I wonder if their creator, Mike Judge, ever spent any time in Japan.
Japanese calendars divide their days up according to good or bad fortune. They're called the 六曜 （rokuyou) and are all based on the 陰陽道 (onyoudou) - the Chinese philosophy of yin and yang. On a traditional Japanese calendar you can always check whether the day in question holds good or bad luck for you. There are six denominations.
Some days are ranked 仏滅 (butsu metsu). These are the days the foretell the worst luck. Then you have 赤口　(shakkou). These are also really unlucky, except at midday. Apparently, for some reason, at midday on these days you're good to go. Other days are marked 先勝 (senshou). On these days the morning is lucky but the afternoon is unlucky. Basically, it's the day where you best get around to doing things quickly. 先負　(senbu) is the exact opposite. On this day you should put things off as long as possible, as the morning is the unlucky period, while the afternoon is lucky. 大安　(taian) is the luckiest day of the Japanese calendar. Good luck trying to reserve a wedding banquet hall or moving company on one of these days. The last day of the six is my favourite. It's called 友引 (tomobiki). It means literally 'pull your friends in'. It's the most confusing of all the days. In principle, the morning and evening are lucky, while the afternoon is unlucky. However, as the name suggests, whatever you do you draw your friends in. So most people feel it's best to avoid doing anything unlucky on this type of day. For example, if you have a funeral ceremony on this day, it's believed another friend will have to suffer the same fate. In fact, I think most funeral homes take tomobiki off.
I am a superstitious person. I should have arranged to hand over the keys to my apartment on taian. But I just couldn't resist the urge to move on tomobiki. As I was saying to my great friend a few days ago, it just sounds too Irish. Like Tom O'Biki. In any case, I'm looking on it as a good day to move because I hope the friendships I have made here in Japan will be drawn with me and follow me wherever I may go.

Happiness and I

Sunday was a day of pure happiness, mine and others'.
We started out early in the centre of the city. The weather had picked up after a very dull week. Though the cherry blossoms were about one or two days past their prime, they were still really beautiful.
Walking under the withering, falling petals usually makes me a little melancholy. But with all the changes coming my way, I wondered how many more chances I'd have to enjoy this seasonal tradition. Still and all, it was a truly happy feeling to stand with good friends under the imposing skyscapers as the the early morning sun was filtered pink through the delicate blooms.
We covered a lot of ground and saw cheery trees all over the city: at Roppongi, in Hibiya Park, at the Imperial palace. The picture at the top of the page is a great photo of two symbols of this island - the curving pine and the blooming sakura. Beautiful - thanks K.
Now お花見 (Ohanami - blossom viewing) wouldn't be complete without a beer. I get tingles remembering the icy cold ceramic stein of beer I enjoyed in a very traditional German restaurant. Memories of Oktoberfest. It was the kind of place I would never think of going by myself. But the weekends are made for such discoveries. Bliss!
We couldn't stay outside blossom viewing all day, though. Suntory Hall, one of Tokyo's most prestigious concert halls, was having an open day. The longer we left out arrival, the more crowded the venue would get. We were among the first to turn up and scored great seats in the main hall.
Suntory Hall is especially famous for it's organ. I can never think of this word without smiling. I think it's latent trauma from my days as a Dublin Castle tour guide. Part of the tour covered the old castle church. In the script, the lines 'Ecce Homo' (Behold the man) and 'massive organ' followed in quick succession. I barely made it through the tour without a giggle at the double entendre. In the end, the organ concert was good, but I really missed the reverberating echo of a high church ceiling.
As it was an informal open day, we were able to watch the orchestra practising. This was a first for me. I was amazed to watch a professional conductor at work. He could hear everything. Not only that the violins missed a beat, but that this violinist missed a beat on this bar. Such talent. Such training.
The rehearsal also pointed out the weird affects of adrenaline and nervous tension. During practice the orchestra was really not that good. I think we all felt apprehensive that open-day meant B-grade players. But the 本番 (Hon ban - performance before a live audience) was in a whole different class. In their formal wear it was like they became another orchestra and treated us to some fantastic music. Fascinating.
At the end of the orchestral concert the conductor called up seven volunteers to the stage. He chose a selection of people of different ages. They would each get a chance to conduct the orchestra. The younger kids were shy and nervous but did a great job. The man who stuck out in my mind was the excitable おじさん (ojisan - older gentleman) who was desperate for his turn.
The conductor went to side-stage and left the man to his own devices. He conducted like a pro. It was clear he was passionate about music and probably practised at home in front of the mirror. He gave it everything he had and the audience responded with booming applause.
After, the conductor took the microphone and asked the man how he felt. His face beaming with pride, he responded that he was just a simple 'salaryman' who had finally seen a dream come true. It was a simple message but I can't convey the happiness, the delight in his voice.
Maybe it was residual emotion from the bloody otters. Maybe it's because I feel I'm getting closer to achieving my own dreams. Or maybe it was the rare joy of seeing someone truly satisfied, but I'm ashamed to admit I was really moved. I may even have misted up a little.
Now I have never claimed to be some macho mountain man. Lord, no! But I really thought I was made of stronger stuff than that. Perhaps it's all the soy products I eat over here. Too much oestrogen. I may actually be turning into a woman.
As an aside, the Japanese language allows you great flexibilty in how manly you want to appear simply by the word you choose to express 'I'. 私 (watashi) is a very standard, basic 'I'. It's good for men and women and is pretty much neutral.
If you want to be more formal, give a more refined image, then you pronounce this character wataKUshi.
Young men like me tend to use the word 僕 (Boku) to talk about ourselves. This has a boyish, slighltly childish nuance. Some men would say it's a bit soft, a bit effeminite.
Those men would probably use the more macho 俺 'Ore'. I have never once used this word for myself. I don't think I could pull it off. I'm pretty sure people would laugh - Far too tough guy for someone like me.
But I think people would laugh a lot more if I tried to say 拙者(sessha). This is the word samurai used to use for themselves. Before I leave Japan I'm determined to refer to myself in this way once just to see what reaction it gets.
Having read all this, please try and tell me Japanese isn't a complicated flipping language.