un-plugged

as i was about to board the bus yesterday, i realized i had left my phone at home. i felt like a samurai without a sword, waging the pros of hand-to-hand combat versus a battle glittery steel. i had to make immediate choice: risk being late for a job interview or leave my weapon at home. sullen, i boarded the bus and made my way to the back of the bus. how bad can it be to be unplugged?

on the ride downtown, i struck up an interesting conversation with a lady who was also on her way to an interview and my handy-dandy NFT supplied my maps. i had a little wave of panic when i thought the address was wrong and i wouldn't have my internet to troubleshoot the problem, but that proved itself unnecessary and i showed up for my interview ten minutes early and rocked it. so far so good. then i realized that i had about 2 hours to kill before my next interview and i would be so much better off reading and preparing for it, rather than idly wasting that time reading SF weekly. (that being an enormous understatement considering my "deer in the headlights" moment with the firm's partner on the EASIEST question known to man)

later that night, i went to see the new BATMAN movie just to be as consumer america as possible. after getting my midnight dinner of a large cherry coke and popcorn, i noticed the line of kids waiting to get into the imax, seated i might add. oodles of them sprawled out on the floor dressed in all black amidst mounds of smashed popcorn. about half of them were plugged into an iPod, despite their friends being seated right next to them and one cluster actually had their MacBook with them. the phenomenon continued when i turned around at one point in the theater to see that almost everyone had an illuminated screen in front of them (yes, another MacBook) and they were clicking away, playing games or listening to music, despite the fact that they are out to a movie with their friends.

so let me get this straight- we facebook, myspace, twitter, linkin and blog our lives away to stay connected so that when we actually go out with our friends, (to plug into a movie i might add) we ignore them?! seems a disconnected type of connect, and a little more like the people on WallE than i'd care to admit. the irony is that we glean these lessons FROM A MOVIE and that i feel my avenue for venting this frustration is a BLOG!

so much government, so little time.

if there's one thing my travels in japan taught me, it was the stealthy and disarming nature of government. socialism is so embedded in japanese culture that people rarely think that they might be entitled to feel or act in opposition to the group. i saw this most clearly when i worked for NOVA but i won't get into that again. recently, i found out the extent to which the government's mandates have crossed into the public health arena and i had to share this. the new york times reported that the japanese government has made obesity illegal. in an attempt to lower the health care costs shelled out by the government, men and women between the ages of 40 and 74 must have their waists measured as a part of their annual physical. if they are metabo (+33.5 inches for men, 35.4 inches for women), they have 3 months to loose it or face 6 months of mandatory lifestyle training. the idea is to shame people into loosing weight because no one wants to be singled out as a fatty. because the government will penalize private companies (who provide health insurance for the metabos), private companies have begun measuring their employees from age 30 and having family metabo days where you have to listen to lectures about how to eat right.

to me, this is a clear-cut example of why the government should not provide social services for its citizens. anyone who pays the price for a service wants to make sure they minimize their waste: if you pay for your car, you drive carefully; if you pay for your education, you go to class; if you pay for your healthcare, you eat right and excersise. when the government gets in there to provide these "necessities" it also follows that they will find it mandatory to minimize their losses, thus restricting the freedom of those that use their services.

Notes from the Underground: A Look Inside the Love Hotel

At first mention of the words Love Hotel, most Americans envision flickering Neon signs and dank walls shedding their paper like dead skin. But, since we’re talking about Japan, this is not the case. Fuse the Japanese obsession with technology and cleanliness, twist in some kinky fantasies and you have the Love Hotel, or Rabu Hoteru. These gigantic, window-less buildings look like they have popped out of a Disney theme park in the shapes of ships and pyramids. Wandering through the maze of private entrances and frosted glass doors, you'll be lucky to stumble upon the reception board since no one is there to tell you where it is. The most important feature of the Love Hotel is discretion; no grimy man handing out keys under a flickering florescent light here. The reception board displays illuminated photos of the rooms they have available and upon selection, illuminate a map to your room. Your room number is also illuminated so you know you're in the right place, which is helpful since you haven't been given a key. But don't worry about someone bursting into your fantasy romance: that sound you hear upon closing the door is the magnetic seal and no one is coming in (or out) until the bill is paid: a security measure that makes you feel like a character from a Murakami book.


The room is pristine and fully equipped with all the necessary amenities: mini bar, video game center, karaoke station and a vending machine filled with toys and edible panties to spice up the evening. While the knowledge that an unknown number of people have "done it" in this room is slightly unnerving, the sheets on the circular bed are pressed and the mirrors on the ceiling are sparkling, so it's easy to shrug it off. Besides, the jacuzzi and bidet being standard equipment in the "LoveHo" makes emerging from your lust cubby less conspicuous.

But now it's time to pay for your evening by turning on your T.V. and selecting payment from the game system's drop down menu. The amount you owe the house then pops up on the screen and you swipe your credit card using that card reader on the wall. If you don't have plastic, no worries. Just use the pneumatic tube to send your yen soaring to the unknown people on the free side of the door. When you get your change and receipt, the door unlocks and you are free from your prison of pleasure.

For those of us more accustomed to space, this might seem like a lot of effort for a lay, but its not surprising that these dens of fornication are so popular among Japanese who haven't given up their love of paper walls. Add onto that the merging of families into common households and the idea of going out to get it on sounds completely reasonable. As real estate prices continue to soar and fewer people can afford the spacious homes to which Americans have become accustomed, you might see this Love Hotel phenomenon trickle into the states.

on being a quiet american

i originally had a conflict about coming to vietnam. should i spend tourist money in a country whose political system i morally oppose? christmas morning at the vietnamese embassy further concertized these oppositions and made me a weary of testing these waters, but now that i'm here, i am glad to be seeing how communism works, or doesn't rather. this trip is not just about leisure but about education. sometimes, i am an ambassador for my ideals in conversations with others who want to share. this is not about politics, more about seeing the guts of a country and realizing that their way of life has nothing to do with my values. they have the right to live as they please and organize themselves how they wish. as long as they are not aggressors, then it has nothing to do with me. (which makes me really think about the wars...)

oh hanoi, the train, the smells, the noise...i will tell those stories later. right now i want to talk about sam and hannah, the iranian couple who shared our cabin from hanoi to sapa.


we rolled in, laughing and drunk, holding a pink chipmunk balloon and talking to everyone in the way. sam and hannah were already seated on a cot, so allan and i settled in and started talking. when they said, "iran" i was so excited because they were already so warm. for hours, i sat with them and talked to them about their culture and their politics and their conception of americans. i got to cross the lines that the borders and the media barricade between us and reach locals in places our leaders won't let us go. hannah must cover her head in public. sam and hannah have never been to a beach together, as men and women must be separate. alcohol is illegal and must be ordered over the phone like drugs in the us. but, girls do have sex with their boyfriends before marriage, though they don't talk about it. they do drink and live like we do, though they must be secretive in most ways and though i think this is oppressive and would not want to live this way, (which is why i don't), sam and hannah seemed exceedingly happy in their lives, tolerant of their challenges, and excited to share themselves and their culture with others. not all of the population is religious or even agrees with the fanatic government ruling the nation. they said about 5 to 10 percent of iranians think that way and the rest are just like them. if that is true, then i am going to iran. i have never been so in love with a couple: their smiles and warmth, sincerity and joy of life despite its difficulties. we talked about language, poetry, japan (sam lived in japan), culture and love.

and then i thought, if only 10 percent of the population are like ahmadinejad, why don't the rest of them stand up and fight against it? how could a country that was so liberal be forced back into such repression? as i asked myself these questions, i realized that OUR government is being ruled by the same concept. maybe it's a majority, but it doesn't make it right and it doesn't make it free. why can't new, innovative, radical ideas take root in OUR american society? we are always stuck in a middle rut of compromise and moderation, which is just a muddle of right and wrong. it's not easy to pass judgment on something you don't understand and are not a part of, kind of like you shouldn't take the stick from your neighbor's eye when you have a log in your own.

(for more on this theme, please read graham greene's novel, the quiet american)

JE Question 9

"So what do you want to do in the future?"

This is one of 10 questions in a set which I have been asking all day. One of my side jobs here in Japan is conducting end of the year interviews for kids who are learning to speak English. There are about 8 levels for kids from age three to fourteen. This means that I am asking the same 80 questions over and over from 9 to 5, trying to look interested and supportive so the kids don't get nervous. At about 3, lunch is over and I still have 2 more hours of this. I have heard every possible answer possible. Despite the levels, I have memorized all 80 questions and asking 1,350 questions is starting to wear my voice to a scratching post. That's when Akari walks in. She is a junior high school student who actually looks like she's breaking the mold. She's not wearing the usual marching band uniform that makes young girls look dumpy and ill-kept. She is also not wearing one of the slutty varieties of the junior high girl uniform, where the leg warmers draw your eye up to the sliver of skirt that barely comes underneath the sweater. She is not caked in makeup, but she's not awkward or insecure. She stands in her sweatshirt with her hot pink clip pulling her hair neatly from her eyes. She waits for me to invite her to sit and she says thank you.

"Please introduce yourself"
"My name is Akari Suzuki. I am fourteen years old. I live in Yokkaichi. I go to Yokkaichi Junior High School." She pauses and looks to the ceiling, then exhales and looks back at me. "I like swimming and listening to music. I don't like math and umeboshi. Thank you"
Well we can agree on that. The fermented plum, umeboshi, is not the treat it's commonly said to be. Even if you drown it in sho-chu, it's still a bitter, salty fruit that spoils your cocktail.
"Me neither." I smile. She relaxes and she smiles too.

The questions continue. She has 4 people in her family. She likes natto. Nothing really different, but then we come to question 9: What do you want to do in the future.
"I want to be a bride."

I feel like a million years go by in that single second where I can't take my eyes off of her and I can't move on. I am shocked and saddened. I want to scoop her out of her chair and open her eyes up. I want to shake her so all those cliches of what a woman should be come pouring out of her, so that the ideas of this country will allow her to be more than a bride. "I want to be a bride"- that's not even being a wife or being a mother. That's not even specific on whose bride you'll be! Who cares, just as long as it's someone and people can look at me and think I look pretty. Then I'm reminded of that story that Mark told me: about a female student who turned thirty and was still unwed. She had to go to a local shrine and shamefully ring a bell on her birthday to pray for a husband. I look at her and wonder what kind of poison she's been suckled on and what kind of words have left her only dream as her wedding day. "Oh God," I think to myself. "What have they done to you?"

Last week when I left Kobato Kindy, Sato-San was there and stood up to address me as I entered the office with the usual, "Onegaishimasu" and "Otsukaresamadeshita."
"Emily-Sensei, you will return to your country soon?!"
"Yes, sir. I miss my family very much. I have had a wonderful time but I am ready to be close to them." The words come out like a script. You don't tell people that you can't stomach their culture; that the country of yes-men is not the place for someone who wants to think and be unique. You don't say those things out loud, especially not here.
"Oh I understand!" I let out a sigh. "I have daughter your age. I would not want her live in another country. I want her to marry with Japanese. I am sure your family is ready to see you return and marry an American."

This man has no idea that those words, the fact that he and everyone believes those words, are why I want to run as fast as I can. These are the ideas that make this country, with its reputation for safety, the most dangerous place I have every been. I attempt a smile and nod, making for the door. "Arigatou gozaimasu" I say as I bow my way out of the office to put on my shoes and make my way to the next school in a cold that seems warmer than the frigidity of those values.

And now I'm watching Akari receive her present and bow to me as she makes her way to the door. It's like watching a beautiful daffodil in the way of a lawn mower and you're too late to stop it. Instead you just stare and try to absorb as much beauty as you can before the thing gets mashed to bits and the spirit of it is forgotten forever.