So, I’ve written five or six blog posts that I’ve yet to post. I enjoy writing them, but it appears that I’ve just been too lazy to upload them. I wish that I could instantly put something up as soon as it’s written, but I can’t bring myself to leave out the extra media. By the time I’ve finished writing, I don’t feel like editing and uploading pictures and video, because it turns a ten minute post into an hour affair. Seeing as I’m usually out on the town from 6:00-19:00 during the week, it’s a bit difficult to find the will, but hopefully I can muster some motivation this weekend to finish some odds and ends.

Life here is so busy, not just with work, but with friends as well. I didn’t really have any close Japanese friends last time around, so it’s a new experience, and I feel like I’m truly living here, not just playing the part of tourist. I’m actually getting to the point where I know that it will be difficult to leave. I watched Garden State on Wednesday, with a few friends, and I realized that I’m now living just as I had been in the states. We chatted (a slurry of broken English and Japanese as usual), and I felt as if I was at home, not necessarily a feeling of being in Cincinnati, but a feeling of familiarity, comfort, and fluidity that I seem to have lost for a while. I know that if it wasn’t for the amazing people here, I wouldn’t feel this way, but I can say the same for Cincinnati. My favourite dialogue from Garden State:

Andrew Largeman: You know that point in your life when you realize that the house that you grew up in isn’t really your home anymore? All of the sudden even though you have some place where you can put your shit that idea of home is gone.
Sam: I still feel at home in my house.
Andrew Largeman: You’ll see when you move out. It just sort of happens one day, one day and it’s just gone. And you can never get it back. It’s like you get homesick for a place that doesn’t exist. I don’t know maybe it’s like this rite of passage, you know. You won’t have this feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, you know, for you kids, for the family you start. It’s like a cycle or something. I miss the idea of it. Maybe that’s all family really is. A group of people who miss the same imaginary place.

It’s scary to think that I may not need Cincinnati to be happy. I think my life so far has just been a slow lesson that familiar places and possessions are not what make a home and should not be what keep us in one place. People are what make a place worth living in. Of course, I miss my family and friends very much, but I’ve never been in any other place long enough to feel as if I was “home,” and I’m starting to get that feeling now. Leaving Japan is a sad prospect, but so is staying, and I feel this way after only 2.5 months. How can I win?! I have a friend who has just returned from living in Germany for ten years, and I can’t even imagine how she feels.

I guess, in the end, loving two places so much that I can’t imagine living without either of them is a good problem to have, as well as a good learning experience. I just hope that I always have these strong feelings about at least one place.

Fortunately I have no pictures of vids for this one, so I should be able to post it sometime within the next month .

While it’s obvious that working for a Japanese company gives me countless opportunities to learn Japanese and experience Japanese culture, I believe that I have discovered the secret to guaranteed success in Japan. This secret lies not within language books, countless hours of studying, or anything that involves pain or torment and is best experienced on a beach, in the warm sunlight, with a favorite beer or wine. I’ve been fortunate enough to experience it twice this year and firmly believe that completing one day of this activity is equivalent to one month of hard, strenuous study.

This secret is…

… the Japanese barbeque.

A disclaimer about Japanese Barbeques: Japanese Barbeques always start innocently enough, with your favorite foods an spirits, but be wary of anyone one offering you any special Korean alcohol. While it’s almost flavorless, if consumed in too high of a quantity its impact can resemble that of a ten-ton truck.

In my case, the barbeques were held by the operators of my favorite restaurant Tanoshoku ( 楽食 ). I have all intentions of devoting a whole post to them later. If you are not fortunate enough to have any chef friends of your own, please find solace in the fact that almost everyone in Japan can cook (and pretty well at that).

The grill itself is relatively simple, with no propane or overrated gases required. The grill surface reminds me of chicken wire, but the food that graces its simple face would put any slab of hamburger meat to shame. The barbeque almost always starts with cold beer (I prefer a lighter beer, but any will do, except for Nati Light of course) and usually fresh pork( 豚肉 butaniku) or fish ( 魚 sakana) . In general, Japanese food is about the flavor and visual experience, not about how much tasteless preservative laden meat you can cram into your gullet at one time. Barbeque food is very simple; the slabs of meat are fresh, and only one or two are cooked at a time (enough for everyone to enjoy, but little enough to ensure that none sits stagnant in the sun).

If you are lucky, you’ll also be eating shellfish, or fish right off of the bone. This picture is of a giant shellfish, simply thrown onto the grill.

After the top shell pops open from the heat, adding some beer to the shell meat and allowing it to simmer produces a perfectly succulent symphony of flavor

For those of you who don’t know about Gyoza, it’s essentially everything that’s good about China wrapped into a golden-brown package. The short list is pork, onion, egg, and spices, mashed together by hand until they’re unrecognizable. I think the best comparison would be to the beginning stages of meatloaf, minus the bread chunks. This mix is portioned out into the circular Gyoza dough and pinched shut. The Gyouza is then put into a pan containing a little hot oil (just enough to coat the pan). After all of the Gyoza is in the pan, a little water is thrown in, and the pan is covered, until the pork is tender and juicy. Add some Gyoza sauce, and the results are enough to bring a grown man to tears (or so I hear).

The barbeque lasts for five or six hours or at least until the food and spirits are entirely consumed. After the festivities, I normally enjoy a cold treat to alleviate the pain the sunburn resulting from standing in the sun for six hours with no sunscreen (I always forget that my melanin content isn’t quite up to par)

Besides the excellent food, spending the day with ten or so native Japanese speakers is an excellent way to improve conversational skills, and making new friends never hurts either.

Click here for the travel photo feed!

I’m on my way to Japan. I wish I had more time to write about what’s ahead, but unfortunately procrastination has once again brought about my demise. I do find comfort in knowing that this is just the beginning.

For those doubts that swirl all around us,
For those lives that tear at the seams,
We know, We’re not what we’ve seen,
For this dance we’ll move with each other.
There ain’t no other step than one foot,
Right in front of the other.
There’s so many wars we fought,
There’s so many things we’re not,
But with what we have,
I promise you that,
We’re marching on