Bought me some Lebanese shoes

I went out today and got me some Lebanese shoes: as you can see from the picture, they definitely have a touch of the ‘Indigo Girls’ about them. I think I am entitled to be an honorary Lebanese seeing as how 'Despite our Differences' and '1200 Curfews' are regularly top 10 in my MP3 rotation. . Anyways, I’m well happy with my purchase - they are so comfortable.
I originally intended to replace my well-worn Campers - they haven't been the same since I had to walk through floods TWICE back home in Ireland. However, new Campers cost about 250 euro over here. Can you believe it? I would no more spend that on a pair of shoes, even if we weren't on the eve of the next Great Depression.
As it is, I got these Docs 70% off in the pre-sale for about 45 euro - you can't go wrong. I'm fairly confident that they're flood proof (just in case I lose my job and have to survive another *cough* summer in Ireland). And they're definitely sturdy: a necessity when you walk as much as I do... 10,000 steps a day, remember?
The fashion over here at the moment is either: for big, hob-nail boots with the trousers tucked into them; or for shiny, black patent leather sneakers, so I'm definitely bucking the trend (hence the big discount, I imagine). Sure not to worry, I've always been happy to dance to the beat of my own drum, sartorially speaking. I could, at this point, remind you all of my forays into red tartan slacks and stripy orange denims, but I think some things are best left in the past.

Premature de-wick-ulation

Here is a photo of this year's Christmas tree - thanks H.
It gave my little apartment so great holiday atmosphere.
As you can see above, unlike the other tantric candles, one little guy just couldn't hold himself in. I felt for him - he just couldn't handle the pressure to perform.

On Being a Tokyo Foodie...

I'm getting a kick-start on the New Year's resolutions: one of which is to get back into the blogging thing. Not having an Internet connection cramped my style there for a while, but I probably would have been just as lazy if my new Tokyo apartment had been access-ready when I arrived.
Work has been hectic: I cannot believe I've been in the new job two months already. With all the travelling and adjusting to lots of new tasks, the time has just slipped by. I'm on my end-of-year holidays now. It's going to be a lovely week-long chance to find my feet and consider what I've done.
I settled back into being a Tokyoite pretty quickly. Buying my beloved granny bike, Margaret ROTHARford, helped the process along no end. My free time is spent zipping around downtown Tokyo and hitting the cool cafes, restaurants and galleries.
The best thing about being back? Without question, the food! I just love it. I'm so assimilated that I even plan my meals like the Japanese now. One Friday night I was watching old Onion head, Tetsuko Kuroyanagi - this honey-lensed Japanese TV celeb who's about 250 years old, deliciously pre-senile, with amazing taste in wacky outfits and a massive black wig piled on top of her head like a big onion. On her program, she recommended this tofu restaurant in Tokyo's swanky 'Midtown' development. So there I was, the very next day, queuing up with the rest of the housewives to get my tofu 'teriyaki eel' and dry curry rice-bowls. I am one with the borg.
I love in such a big city, too, that you can be wandering through an area you think you know well and suddenly discover a completely new place to enjoy. This is what happened yesterday when I found a great Muji cafe just beside the Imperial Hotel. All that you can see in the picture above just cost 980 yen (8 euro). Pretty amazing... And the pink turnip Oden (veggies slow simmered in stock) was the surprise of the day: I never thought I would be writing a blog in praise of the devil's vegetable!

My hometown's public art

Dubliners have a lovely irreverent attitude to the public works of art dotted around their city: they come up with some great nicknames for them. Lots of the pieces are pretty controversial and each one has a bit of a story behind it. I give you:

The Stiletto in the Ghetto

The real name for this one is the Spire of Dublin. It is probably the most criticised of all the public works. It was a millennium project that ran ages over time and about a gajillion euro over budget. The nickname comes from the fact that it rises out a fairly dangerous area of the city – albeit on the city’s main thoroughfare. It actually doesn’t look that bad in the photo that I’ve taken here: when they sky is blue and the sun is shining (about three days a year) it can be a little bit ‘beam-of-light-ish’. But on a grey, rainy day (the majority of the year), it pretty much resembles a dirty syringe jutting out of the city’s addled arm.

The Hags with the Bags

I think this one is actually fairly well liked. It seems to hark back to a pre-Celtic Tiger Ireland when the people were a bit frumpier and didn’t have expensive cafe terraces to sit at when they wanted to have a chat.

The Tart with the Cart

I think this is the oldest of public artworks. It’s a statue of Molly Malone, she of Dublin’s most famous song. The story goes that she walked the streets of the city selling cockles and mussels. But, as you can imagine from the depiction above, historians tell us that she was probably selling more than just what was on her cart, if you know what I mean.

The Floosie in the Jacuzzi

First, a little FYI: in Dublin slang, floosie refers to a woman of questionable or low moral standards. In fact, the statue is supposed to be of Annalivia, the spirit of the River Liffey that runs through the centre of Dublin. Notice that this is the only picture I wasn’t able to get by myself. This is because it was removed from its location on O’Connell Street (the main street in the centre of the city) a few years ago. Now, some will say this was to make room for the Spire mentioned above; more likely, it was costing too much in maintenance. Honestly, poor Annalivia was the most abused work of art ever to have the misfortune to be displayed in my home town: people peed on her, threw rubbish at her, wrote on her, and regularly filled her little waterfalls with laundry detergent so that she’d drown in an overflowing sea of foam. Only in a city as dangerous as Dublin would inanimate objects have to be put in some sort of art-lovers witness protection program.

Hunter's Moon (October 2008)

The first full moon after September's Harvest Moon.
So named because it provides enough late light for hunters to track their pray well into the evening.

Sunset from the Millennium Bridge

We've been getting some really dramatic evening skies of late; I guess it's the season for it.
Family, friends, and long-time readers will know of my obsession with sky-watching... to the point of being told to shut up about it because I'm boring everyone to tears.
Hahaha, well sucked in - here I can waffle on about whatever I like.
The other day I was walking into town to meet friends for dinner when we had the most amazing sunset. I usually carry my camera with me wherever I go, but I was rolling light that night, so I had to make do with my camera phone.
The limited pixels don't do the sky justice: it really was stunning. Even Dublin city manages to look good in this sort of light.
I also want to post a picture of the Hunter's Moon that I captured earlier on this month. I'm usagi-doshi remember (born in the year of the rabbit), and so I feel a special affinity with the moon, too.

I wanna meet the person that drew this

I'm looking for ways to fill my days at the moment. I've gotten used to being so busy that I'm not quite sure what to do with myself.
I headed into the National Modern Art Museum. They are running an exhibition called Exquisite Corpse. This is the term for a technique invented by the Surrealists int he 1920s: words or images are assembled in sequence by letting one person see what the previous person contributed, and so on.
Some of the stuff done by the professional artists was interesting enough, but I was really taken by the mural that visitors to the gallery produced by themselves. I especially want to meet the person that created the image above: out of a whole wall of some 150 cards, they were the ONLY person to subvert the image.
I'm sure Freud would have a field day, too, with the fact that the artist shows the schoolboy being eaten by the woman. I spent ages trying to imagine what sort of person the artist that drew this was.
Maybe my brother - who is doing a PhD in the philosophy of art - could explain what it means when you move from thinking about the work to thinking about the artist; does it mean the ultimate dialogue between sender and receiver; or does it mean the message has gotten lost in transmission.
Enquiring minds want to know...

Best coffee in Dublin

I love me some caffeine. It's hard to find a good coffee here in Dublin. Even the smallest shop has a proper Italian coffee machine, but the staff generally don't know how to use them. The most disappointing thing is that you'll find a good place, come back to give it another try, discover the barista's changed, and realise that you're now drinking groundsy suds. I have to say, though, that Cafe Java at the Charlotte Quay docks has not yet let me down. And the view isn't half bad either.

Green Tunnels

I'm trying to think of the things I'll miss about Dublin now that I'm nearly ready to go back to Tokyo. Aside from all the obvious family and friends stuff, I'm going to miss the leafy suburbs. I love walking under these green tunnels.

Never quite finished...

So I'm finally done with my masters and I've finished the induction course for my new job in Japan. I'm just waiting for my work visa to be processed and then I'm ready to go back to Tokyo. I don't fly out until October 31st, so I've quite a bit of down time between now and then. I was hoping that I'd be completely free of work and stress, but I have one more little thing still to do.
You see, I got some great news there yesterday: I found out that my research paper won a little bit of an award. You could have knocked me down with a feather. I'm so pleased. I really feel that it validates the hard work and long hours that I put into the study, and it vindicates me not getting a part-time job and really focusing on the masters.
Part of the award is that my work will get published (in a periodical that about three people read, but no matter), so it means that I have to now write an overview of my research. It should really be no problem, and it's certainly nothing negative. It just means that I've a little bit more work to do before I'm a totally free man.
All in all, it's a great ending to a great academic year.

Never quite finished...

So I'm finally done with my masters and I've finished the induction course for my new job in Japan. I'm just waiting for my work visa to be processed and then I'm ready to go back to Tokyo. I don't fly out until October 31st, so I've quite a bit of down time between now and then. I was hoping that I'd be completely free of work and stress, but I have one more little thing still to do.
You see, I got some great news there yesterday: I found out that my research paper won a little bit of an award. You could have knocked me down with a feather. I'm so pleased. I really feel that it validates the hard work and long hours that I put into the study, and it vindicates me not getting a part-time job and really focusing on the masters.
Part of the award is that my work will get published (in a periodical that about three people read, but no matter), so it means that I have to now write an overview of my research. It should really be no problem, and it's certainly nothing negative. It just means that I've a little bit more work to do before I'm a totally free man.
All in all, it's a great ending to a great academic year.

In between downpours

I have been in front of the computer all day, and yet I have gotten nothing done. I still have more than 8,000 words to write, and all the chapters that have already been signed off still need editing. I think my lofty goal of getting everything done before my induction course on August 5th is just pie in the sky... chateaux en Espagne...
The weather has been atrocious all day, with torrential rain and even flash-flooding in the south of the country. In one town in Cork, they got one month's rain in five hours. In between downpours, though, I took the chance to take a walk down to the seafront. I'm trying, at least, to keep my ten-thousand steps a day thing going, even as my word count flounders around the hundreds.
I don't think Ireland is a particularly beautiful country: I know many people that do, but I don't. Except when you look up - the skies in this part of the world are beautiful. I think the one that I caught out on my walk is a good example.

Movie Madness

I've been on a major movie kick of late. I think it's cause I'm so sick of tired of reading and writing from all the work I've been doing on my report - the only thing I want to do of an evening is veg out in front of the screen. I've watched plenty of dross, but I've also come across a few good ones.
I'd totally recommend "Broken English", if you're looking for an angst-ridden, thirty-something New York indie rom-com. I especially liked it because it had a lot of lines that seemed to come out of conversations that I've had with friends of late:
- It's not wrong to want someone to love you. Most people are together just so they are not alone, but some people want magic. I think you are one of those people.
- Something wrong with that?
- Nothing, but it doesn't happen all the time.
There was one line that had me rolling in fits of laughter. Unfortunately, only about two people in the world (one of whom reads this blog) will get the joke:
So the main character has met a dude, and he is telling her a little about himself on their first date. He explains what he does for a living, and then he says, "But there's not only work. I also play music." And she rolls her eyes and replies in disgust, "Ugh! I'm so glad I don't have an acoustic guitar."
Hearing this line transported me back to my first year in Japan in the local pub of a Sunday evening. It cracked me up.

Am I turning Japanese?

I have a load of administrative stuff to get out of the way before I head back to Japan - tax, social security, visa, health insurance, the lot. On Monday, I had to head in to the local social welfare office to get a form stamped. I arrive right at the opening time, knowing that the queues can get out of control as the day goes by. There was a security guard waiting outside, telling people which office to go to and which line they needed to join. Now, bear in mind that my form had JAPAN, JAPAN, RETURNING TO JAPAN stamped and written all over it. This guys looks at the form, looks at me, and then says, "So, you're going back to your home country then, are you?" Admittedly, I was wearing a baseball cap which would have masked my face a bit, but I was like, "Come on!" Needless to say, I will be using this story as ammunition next time I let a 'We Japanese' comment slip.
Now, this office is in deepest ghetto, so I knew I'd be in for a bit of a morning. It's all boarded up windows and serious pram-face. It must be the most depressing place to work, but the staff I encountered couldn't have been more polite and respectful. There were only two people in front of me in the queue, so I was sure I'd be out of there in no time. But these two were not leaving that office without a fight and ended up holding up the whole operation (just where you pick up your ticket) for more than 30 minutes. By the time they were done, the line behind me had grown to forty grumbling people. And then, just as I was about to move ahead, this guy jumps in front of me and starts shouting at the man behind the counter. He was all, "I'm just out of detox, and you've cut off my benefit, and I can't go back to me Ma's cause me brothers are there doing junk..." It was just like something out of Shameless. I was trying to be all random act of kindness about the whole thing, but then the people behind started bitching about me letting him in line. I guess I was trying to make up some karma for the homeless guy that I sent packing the other week. Anyway, once I finally got to the counter I was done in under 30 seconds - I will not be going back.

WWJD?

So I'm sure you all know the above initialism, right? Well there's a new one - it's WWPD (What Would Patrick Do? - and then do the complete opposite)!
I really showed my true colours there yesterday and I'm not feeling very happy about it. In Dublin, it is not uncommon to see people begging on the streets. With the expansion of continental-style terrace dining, it's also not uncommon to have people come up and ask you for money when you're sitting outside a pub or restaurant.
Now I never take out my wallet on the streets. It's something I'm not at all comfortable with. Most of my friends are different and give as often as they can. So I was sitting outside a pub in the centre of Dublin with some friends yesterday, soaking up some very rare rays of sun, and this guy comes along and slurs, "Now you can tell me if I'm disturbing you and I'll move on but do you have any spare change?" Before any of my friends had a chance to answer, and without even thinking about it too much, I answered, "If you wouldn't mind..." To give him his due, he did move on to the next table and just shouted back, "It's just that I'm f___ing hungry!"
My friends didn't call me on this at all, but I know that if I had said nothing they would have given him some money.
I'm still trying to process what I did from a philosophical point of view. If I had given him money, it wouldn't have been because I wanted to help him out - it would just have been because I wanted him to go away. And then, I could have lied and said I had no change - which is what all the other people on the terrace did, but I actually wanted to let him know that I didn't agree with what he was doing.
I do believe in charity, and I give in other ways - but I'm fiercely protective of my private space. However, the incident, because it was all done without much thinking, has really shown me that I'm not a very good person. I think karma-wise I'm looking at some serious universal retribution. I don't know - not a good experience.

Bobbles: The Demon Dog

Here is a photo of Bobbles - the dog that has been the bain of my existence at home in Dublin. Sure, he looks pretty cute here, but he is seriously emotionally unstable. He has major separation anxiety and goes nuts barking whenever people come or go anywhere. I mean, I come in to the living room to say goodnight to my folks and he goes nuts, viciously barking at me. Same deal if I say goodbye on the way out to college. He's even managed to learn Italian and goes crazy if I say 'Ciao' instead.
Things have gotten better recently. My sister is a part-time dog whisperer, and my parents have finally started to listen to some of her advice. When he goes out into the back garden now, they put him on a long chain from time to time and it seems to be teaching him some boundaries. I was all in favour of the electric collar and spraying citronella in his face, but these were deemed to cruel.
I will dearly miss all my family when I get back to Japan, but I'm counting the days until I no longer have to share living space with this little monster. The paradox is that the little blighter seems to love me -he snuggles up to me when I sit on the couch, tries to sneek into my room to lie on the bed, and even waits outside the bathroom for me to finish in the shower. Can you imagine what he'd be like if I was actually nice to him?

Still here!

Okay, I'm up to like my third e-mail asking me if I've passed away. I guess that's as good as sign as any to update this thing. The problem is, since I last wrote a blog entry embarrassingly little has happened to me.
Well, that's not entirely true: being back in Ireland has confirmed for me that Japan is where my heart is. I'll be heading back there to start a new job in November. I'm well excited: I'll be a proper grey salary man, all suited up and living in the centre of Tokyo. I've really missed my life there.
Apart from that though, it's slim pickings. Let me think...
I had a nice quiet family Christmas; I had one of the most fun New-Year parties that I can remember; I flew over to Boston to visit with friends and shocked them all by actually bonding with an infant and not coming out in a rash (maybe there is some paternal instinct in me after all); I've had an ongoing battle with my parent's dog - the more I hate him, the more he seems to love me - we're all about dysfunctional relationships in my family; I've really enjoyed doing my Masters - as I said to a friend, it's been really nice to feel good at something. I'm not used to feeling that way; I've given up the booze - two months and counting. I've never felt better. And that's about it. A bit of a sad tally for nearly 10 months.
So, the outlook for the next couple of months is a lot of the same - mostly writing up my dissertation and preparing to head back to the rising sun. Perhaps knowing the clock is ticking for my time in Dublin will cause me to see the place with different eyes and think of something worth saying about the place. We'll see.