lioness in japan

This seems like a strange blog post but I asked this question myself when I had to buy one recently and was truly stumped.

In my neighbourhood, Akasaka, there are two options: confectionary chain Ginza Cozy Corner and Haagen Daz. The former has pretty good cakes but they only have three designs and unfortunately I have bought the chocolate one for different people’s birthdays, maybe even twice for the kangaroo, but he didn’t notice so that’s okay. I wanted to make a little more effort in not presenting the same birthday cake twice so hence why this serious hunt for a decent (different) one.

Though Haagen Daz is always a winner (who doesn’t like ice-cream cakes?), it costs almost 5,000JPY for a small 500g one that will maybe feed five people tops. Also, if you are in a screaming hurry, this is not a good choice because you need a minimum of two hours before 6pm for them to prepare your cake.

And to make one at the last minute was just out of the question. Some expat folks do that here which is pretty impressive in my book.

So what’s an expat girl to do?

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Apologies for not posting this week. I’ve been very busy with work and I accidently deleted many LIJ posts so have been re-posting them during any spare moment I could snatch. I’m still not done yet — I’m a bit of a procrastinating queen this week…

So I was giving my feral apartment a good clean last Saturday afternoon and I turned on the TV for some company. I let the Japanese dialogue wash over my ears as usual but after washing the dishes, I glanced at the TV and saw this…

OMG, fake edible insects for bento-making. ヘ。。。なにそれい? (What’s that?)

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Tokyo can be a cold place, even when it’s not winter, because it’s an uber city where everyone minds their own business.

But once in a while, I get some warmth from the most unexpected people.

A few weeks ago, I was down with an awful migraine for almost 10 days. The day before an early morning lesson, I caved in and took some Eve. Although it helped with the pain, the caffeine in the medicine kept me up all night, and so, I arrived at the lesson looking very much like a ghost. Well that was because I was so exhausted I wore no makeup and tied up my unwashed hair — it certainly shocked my student enough to ask, “Are you okay? You look very sick!”

She then kindly suggested that we go to the kusuriya (pharmacy) after our lesson so she could help me buy a “herbal headache medicine” that works wonders for her. She insisted on paying it for me but I managed to squeeze some cash through to the cashier.

I was very touched by her gesture as she waved goodbye with, “Please take care!” and it made me feel better. Big awww…

But, I was quite traumatized by my sleepless night and read the instructions which showed up caffeine in the ingredients list. I would probably try this when I have another headache, but in the morning, just in case.

In the meantime, can anyone tell me what is this medicine made of? I know it is a brown granular powder and have heard that it is great for preventing flu, too. I blogged about another flu-related medicine here before and wonder if it’s the same…

My sensei gave me this piece of macadamia chocolate for beating the kangaroo at the JLPT 2 test.

BUT, we both failed. Hardly a triumph in my books.

I must give her credit for being such a cheerleader, though. I expressed feeling discouraged over being unable to remember much of the grammar I have been studying. Everyone knows the answer to this common problem: you hardly get to use these complicated grammar structures, so they just don’t stick around in your head.

But she said that repetition is the key to being successful in learning Japanese and we have one more year (technically 10 and a half months) to give it another go.

Out of curiosity, I asked her how many times her students take the JLPT 2 test before they passed and she said, “Three to four times.” Hmm, good to know. She also added that it’s the same for JLPT 1. You know, that would take a good six years at least to get to the highest level. Wow, what a reality check.

“Let’s go Skinny Pizza!”

I furrow my brow and go, “What’s Skinny Pizza?”

“It’s a restaurant that sells pizza with very thin crust.”

“Hmm, okay.”

I just go with the flow when I go back to Singapore for visits. Today’s discussion is about the unrelenting weirdness that never shakes off when you go back to your home country for a visit. As much as experiencing the new is part of your life in your adopted country, going back can also feel “new”…

During my last visit to the little Red Dot, I felt as if I were morphing in and out of surreal scenes on the MRT, jostling among pedestrians on Orchard Road, talking to friends about parking fees and ERP.

“You feel like a stranger in your adopted home and a tourist in your own home country. If you tell anyone that, they’ll be like, ‘How snobby!’” a friend who repatriated back to Singapore recently said. I have to agree that many other folks not in these shoes would think you making much ado about nothing. You’ve gone abroad and now you dare say you are/feel like a foreigner?!

But it is something. You have two homes but you don’t really feel 100 per cent at home in either.

For example, I was wrestling with the Japan Post customer service the other day and for the life of me I couldn’t get the lady over the line to understand what Kuwait meant. QUEUE-way-to, queue-WAY-TO, QUEUE-WAY-TO, KOO-WAAAY-TO…I tried different intonations and pronunciations, so in the end I said, “Saudi Arabia no chikaku desu (It’s near Saudi Arabia).” Still nada. I gave up and so did she.

Back to my visit in Singapore, I had no idea what Skinny Pizza was until I had one. For a skinny pizza, it was very filling. The folks at House were very generous with the mushrooms and the kangaroo lapped it up when I presented the rest of my uneaten pizza to him in a doggie bag.

Here are pictures of my dinner at House (Skinny Pizza has branches in Wheelock Place and Suntect City). I know you love food porn…

Parsnip veloute with fried mushrooms.

Truffle fries. These were really good.

Fruity champagne cocktail in a tiffin.

Singapore is developing at lightning speed so even with six-month intervals between my visits, some buildings would’ve disappeared and last season’s “in” bar would be this season’s no man’s land. The taxi fares have jumped two-fold and it’s not cheap to wave a cab down to flee from the hot humidity anymore.

There are also imperceptible changes in family members and friends that are only apparent when you see them in person. It could be a new interest you never knew they had, or they overhauled the entire living room so it became unrecognizable (my folks, obviously), or new habits/hairstyles/jobs/businesses they acquired. I’ve also lost touch with ex-colleagues and friends whom I weren’t very close with — all inevitable and par for the course.

Sometimes I wish I could be there to see the changes but I need to go back to my reality, Tokyo, which constantly looks like a scene out of a William Gibson novel. My work is here so it makes sense to live here. For now, anyway…

Do you feel like a stranger at home too?

It snowed on Monday night and Tokyo was under a blanket of romantic white fluff. Someone must have played in the snow early in the morning or late at night and made this adorable snowman. Look at the carrot nose and red candy lips! Aww…

I took a photo of this melting mini dude when I took my usual shortcut from the apartment to the subway station.

I missed the train the was supposed to make me on time so I was late for my appointment for five minutes but it was worth it.

I love snow.

It’s the time of year again for the dreaded JLPT (Japanese Language Proficiency Test; you can read about my experience last year here).

I have a love-hate relationship with language learning: I need the skill, but it is f—ing hard to master.

There are times which I just don’t want to look at my textbooks, especially after a warm soup dinner and episodes of Desperate Housewives, Dexter, and Gossip Girl beckon.

But if there is no discipline instilled, nothing would get done, so lately, I’ve been very preoccupied with juggling Japanese study, Beauty Box, and teaching English since my return from NYC, Toronto, and SF.

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I finished reading Murakami’s What I Talk About When I Talk About Running, and it just made me fall in love with long distance running again.

In this quirky memoir of sorts, he talks about how running shaped his life as a writer. There’s an interview he did with Runner’s World here, which is a great little introduction to his book.

As the summer morphed into autumn, I increased my jogging sessions to a few times a week. The last three months have been very busy, and like the dry leaves than sweep the sidewalks with the cool breeze, my schedule has also taken on a more languid pace.

I have toyed with the idea of running a full marathon at least once in my life but never committed to one. After reading this book, I feel like throwing myself into a serious running routine for the next 12 months and would like to run one in Japan at the end of 2010 or early 2011.

It was lovely to read about Murakami’s thoughts on marathon running and writing. He throws out gems that sum up the relationship with this popular sport and being a novelist. Both are difficult, long drawn tasks where stamina, patience, a strong will are essential to being successful. I have a new admiration for him being able to endure the pain of both. But he also says very simply that the reason why people love marathons is because it’s fun.

Because of this book, I went online to find out more about this enigmatic writer. Here’s an interesting piece in The Japan Times about baby boomers, the Sarin gas attack, and his writing/running routine. And you might also want to read about the hype around his next novel, 1Q84, here.

As I look back on my folders of photos on my desktop, I’m amazed at how busy my summer was. While chilling out on my futon enjoying the cool autumn air, I wondered where my three months went. I finally understand the idea of “summer fun”. Coming from Singapore, where it is summer all year round, I never understood the fuss.

In summer, there are tons of activities and events in Japan. I definitely notice I get markedly more invitations to do stuff in summer than any other season.

One weekend in August, we went to the annual Azabu Juban Festival. A Japanese festival, or matsuri, usually involves some kind of dance performance but I didn’t see any at this one. Apparently, it’s known for its endless rows of food stalls offering piping hot Japanese street food.

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Whooo….I’ve been missing for a bit, haven’t I? August was an insane month so I’m just starting to sit down and think about blogging again. Lots of news, so stay tuned.

Here’s something that makes my neighbourhood feel like home to me. One of the ways to endear yourself to your adopted country is to have a regular joint where the staff know you and call you by name. Feels cosy…

When we were living in the shoebox, we were right around the corner from a hole-in-the-wall jazz bar that you would most likely miss if you were walking down the street. Tucked away in the basement. G’s Bar is a lively nook for jazz die-hards and live music….and great cocktails.

The bartender is a friendly Japanese guy in his 40s and I would say his affable personality and keenness to speak Japanese to a pair of gaijin are the biggest draws for us. He even has a digital dictionary handy if we get stuck mid-convo.

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