In the trance...

Paul Van Dyk...

is most definitely one of the most luscious specimens of a man I can think of. Last night he rocked about 3000 club-goers, including myself, at Ageha. I can't explain it. There is just something about a gorgeous man who can make people lose themselves in music.

I lost myself until 5:30 am, and then took Becca to the Tsukiji fish market for an early morning breakfast of the freshest kind. After sleeping away the bass from 8am to 5pm, this is the first Saturday night, possibly ever, in Tokyo spent at home by myself. It is not unwelcome at all. Frankly I don't know how Becca could face Roppongi after the past two nights. Maybe I'm getting old...

But you wouldn't think so from last night! Some pics from the keitai...

A giggle for Monday...

The amusements of working in a Japanese office...

The context-- last week we did some media interviews for a Dutch bank with operations in Japan. The article appeared in the paper today. A rainy Monday morning brought this to my inbox from a Japanese managing director in my company:

I can see Maeda-san tried hard to find the fuck - strategic advisory business,
focusing on 20 food-agri companies, Rabo slated to expand business in Japan.

She later clarified: She meant to say the "hook" of the article, but wrote it phonetically, according to the Japanese pronunciation.

Please discard below - I meant hook

Hehe. A giggle for Monday.

Hakone...

where I made my weekend escape with S. I have to say, it doesn't really matter where I am with him-- my relaxation factor seems to rise by 10. We just have such a good time together! Can the right Frenchman really soothe the wildest of Tokyoites?

The trip made the sakura season last a bit longer, as the blossoms were still blooming in Hakone... though we went not for more hanami, but for a traditional lesson in relaxation-- the Japanese ryokan experience. While on the trip, we were trying to think of another culture in which you can still go to a very old, traditional-style inn, where you stay not for the bed, but for the experience. If you can think of one, oshiete kudasai (let me know).

Our ryokan, called Fukuzumi-ro, was more than satisfactory. I highly recommend it to anyone going to Hakone. Initially, I was impressed by its line-up of past guests, including Kawabata Yasunari, Natsume Souseki, and so on, which is why I chose to book it (Thank you, Onigiriman, for indirectly showing me the way to the best ryokan in Japan!). But now I can see why famous authors would write in this place. The rooms were large (3 rooms of maybe 8 tatami each), the food was delicious and more than we could even eat (after worrying, "where's the rice?" after the 1st course, haha), and the view of the river and momiji (maple tree) outside our window was serene and beautiful, especially in the fading sunlight.

When S is finished working 12-hr days and making rich people richer on the market, he wants to open his own momiji shop-- a noble undertaking, though not exactly lucrative. He will have to marry rich or convince his best friend to buy him one... I offered to buy him one with the rewards (yet to be received) from my award-winning novel (yet to be written), but we can't quite decide which non-lucrative career to adopt first-- S's momiji raising or my book writing...
So, the innocent version of this story is that we ended up reading, bathing, eating and sleeping our night away in this guesthouse perfect for momiji and Japanese literature lovers.

The next day, after we were graciously removed from the ryokan at 10am-- I say "removed," because we were definitely not ready to leave, particularly at 10am-- we headed to the Open Air Museum, which ended up being the perfect way to spend the day. The weather was gorgeous, and the museum is definitely seated at the top of my list of favorites, just because what could be more majestic than art and nature together on a beautiful day? I am almost afraid to ever go back because I have such an ideal memory of it.

So, the lesson learned from this weekend is that living in Tokyo isn't bad at all if you can get away every once in a while for a quiet weekend. Time to start planning the next trip.... where should I go?

The gray of Tokyo...

On the flipside of the general convenience and responsibility-free lifestyle of the Tokyo ex-pat lurks a certain piece of soul that one gives up to live such a carefree existence. Like sides of an equation, they cancel each other out, leaving nothing but an intangible representation of the giving and taking of ... time, money, quality of life, self...

Tokyo has a pulse, but the spirit of it was lost ages ago. Perhaps it was swallowed up by a tsunami and carried out to sea where some lucky kamisama greedily snatched it for herself. Or maybe it's buried somewhere beneath the concrete ground and, with a quake here and there, musters its last bit of strength to try and tell everyone it's still there.

I don't know where Tokyo gets its power-- enough to bring strong people to their knees and make weak people think they're strong. The pace of life rushes on, pushing you to work harder and longer, party harder and longer, and drink more faster so that when your body breaks, all you can do is sleep, sparing yourself from having to think about where your life has gone. Finally, when a moment's peace does come, one can't help but wonder if it's really peace or just filler until the last train.

Tokyo can build you-- open your eyes to the world and all of its many people. It can show you success, happiness, even love. It can fulfill dreams, and it can help you find what you want and don't want. But let's not forget for a moment that this city can break you, too. And it's not because you're weak. It's because you're human. And even humans in Tokyo are entitled to some rest and peace.

Spring fever...

has hit Tokyo. The cherry blossoms had come and were soon gone with a few gusty days and two days of frigid cold. Now, as I sit at my desk wishing away the glass separating me from some healthy sunlight, it feels like Springtime again.

It's my first Spring in Tokyo, and I ask myself why I hadn't traded a hot, sticky month of June for an April or May here before. Ah, right, the academic calendar... glad for that to be over, though for how long remains the question... How difficult do you think it is for one to make the switch from the working world back to the academic? The opportunity costs of leaving my office space for further academic pursuit-- a good salary, free nights & weekends, in my case a life less stressful (I put too much pressure on myself in school), a job I like... and for what? More knowledge [doesn't that come with life experience]? The potential for a better job [could get that by working more]? Greater discipline [I think a loss of discipline has done me well in fact]? Because you feel you should push yourself to the most of your ability [this is the one that always gets me]?

I once thought that there was no other place for me but the top. And it was inevitable that I would always aim there. I was the persona of the ultimate career woman, even "most likely to succeed"-- but succeed at what? At finding the best, most coveted job? Now that I have a job, all I've realized is that work is overrated. I spend 70% of my time working working working, when there are 10,000 other things I'd much rather be doing for 70% of the rest of my life. And I even like my job! I'm just beginning to realize now that maybe what I should be striving for and succeeding at isn't so tangible. Things like contentment, happiness, peace. And the good news is, I really am happy right now. That's why I'm just not so sure about grasping for other opportunities that may indeed be helping me to succeed at realizing my "utmost academic potential," but may not guarantee the genuine smile on my face that I sport so often here (this one is open- mouthed but you get the picture... )

Hanami...

Sakura sakura...
Not the cherry blossom princess, or ahem, Goodwill Ambassador of the cherry blossom festival this year, but almost the queen of hanami... went to at least 4 and ate myself silly.
Shinjuku-gyoen was the place to be this year...

Play for Peace...

April 7-9, 2005
Play for Peace...

Is about my busy bizzy work life. "Bizzy" because for about a week, my job transformed from straight, dry corporate and finance-related communications to all the glamour and glitz of show biz. Long before I came to Tokyo I was a huge fan of the Coach brand (I own 4 bags, 2 change purses and 2 key chains), and now I am assigned to Coach Japan Inc.'s corporate communications. This doesn't always entail high profile celebrities and the big names in fashion, but this week it did. The new face of Coach in Japan is Mandy Moore, and this past week 60 people from Coach NY and Mandy Moore were in Tokyo for their Play for Peace benefit concert to support victims of the tsunami through UNICEF. The first big event was a large-scale press conference featuring Mandy Moore, Japanese pop star Mika Nakashima, and hip hop group N.E.R.D., followed by a more intimate press briefing with the Chairman & CEO. We were in charge of handling the press briefing, which was oriented toward Coach's soaring business, rather than the star-studded conference, but I still got to attend and see what the fuss was all about.

On Saturday we were then invited to the concert and a VIP after-party at Roppongi Hills' French Kitchen. I took Becca as my guest, since she worked as a fashion designer in NYC, and we quickly changed from hanami attire to proper "I'm going to a very posh party" attire. Leaving the concert and boarding the private VIP bus to the party is where a taste of the NY celebrity life first greeted me...in the form of little bottles of champagne to entertain us on our 15 minute ride to the party. 15 minutes later, I was teetering to the party on my very high heels. I should have known that would foreshadow my night.

It was a real, full-blown NY celebrity party. Looking around at all of the models and gorgeous people around me, I was feeling something between "God I don't belong here" and "God I definitely belong here!" I glanced to my right and sitting at a booth next to me is none other than Macaulay Culkin, the little dude from Home Alone who apparently grew up, though not particularly in stature. He is no taller than I and looks about 15 yrs old. I pondered asking him to make the Home Alone face but figured he's been through enough agony. Didn't Michael Jackson molest him at some point? Anyway, the night went on according to the amount of white wine I drank. The President of Vogue magazine complimented Becca's outfit, which she had actually designed herself (how cool!), but unfortunately didn't offer her a position (yet). We chatted with Mandy, and actually spent most of the evening with her band--some very cool guys. And finally, to top the night off, I -- because I am Jo-chan and therefore have to have a mortifying moment-- just had to make my mark. This needs a new paragraph.

Picture this. We were hanging outside on the balcony chatting with my boss and "Mme. Vogue," and were heading back inside for a drink. Yours truly was dressed in new Diesel jeans and a sparkly turquoise very cute top that I borrowed from Becca, and high black heels. I was nonchalantly holding a glass of white wine in my right hand while gracefully making my way back inside. Heading for the sliding glass door, all of a sudden, I'm no longer on my feet. I'm on my face. And WET. The culprit? Around the perimeter of the balcony sat a very VERY badly designed recessed pool of water lurking in the dark, and I FELL IN IT. Honestly, I was not THAT drunk... it was very deceiving and looked EXACTLY like the floor. I was lucky with the choice of jeans-- pretty much my right leg only got wet, so for the rest of the night it wasn't obvious. But the act of it did draw some attention. I dropped my glass of wine (which broke of course), and within seconds had a waiter at my side holding a white bath towel. Along with my pride, I bruised my knee pretty badly and can't walk up or down steps normally. So, as I am judging the scale of mortification of this catastrophe, I notice that I'm not the only one who appears to be wet. In fact, there are waiters standing all around with bath towels and appetizers floating in the pool. "Join the 'I fell in the fountain club'" says a voice behind me belonging to Mandy Moore's drummer. Apparently the waiter showed up with the towel so quickly because almost 20% of the party had fallen in the water! In the end this absolutely mortifying event was none other than the "usual thing" to do at this party. The next morning I was informed that my boss stepped in it and another colleague had to go home because she had gotten so drenched. So, I stick to my first assertion--it really really was badly designed! And that was what I will remember about my first celebrity party.

Another birthday...

The weekend after my return from Thailand, there was no rest for the weary. S turned-- should I say his age? Anyway it's not sooo old...31. Though S is 31, he has a very "S-appeasing" life, one could say. He does what he wants to do, and anything that is too boring or takes too much unnecessary work pretty much doesn't get done, i.e. he has only one small saucepan and one small frying pan in his kitchen because "Zere is nuSSING more boRING zan buyING some PAN at zee store." So, when he told me he's never really celebrated his birthday with a party or anything big, I figured it's obviously because planning a party takes effort above and beyond the call of duty. Meanwhile, I love planning parties, so that is what I did.

I consider a birthday an entire weekend event (maybe we were born on one day, but we should be celebrated for more than one!), so on Night One I took him out to a Lebanese restaurant in Tokyo, complete with a Japanese (and therefore too cute) belly-dancer. We topped off the night with my very first stay in a Japanese "rabu hoteru." Shibuya is of course the home to many a love hotel, and the night before I dragged Becca and R-chan on a hunt for a quirky yet sensible love hotel experience. We found Hotel Claire on the hill to the left of Cartier off of Bunkamura-dori.

The room called out Austin Powers from the screaming hot pink sofa to the totally shagadelic bed which vibrated in time to the bass of the music. It was hilarious! And the room was completely clean, very spacious, and fully stocked with everything you would need for an overnight stay and more. I highly recommend a love hotel experience during your time in Japan, if only for a step into the surrealism of Tokyo.

Night 2 began with aperatif at another shag-pad, GG's place which sits on the 20-something floor of an Akasaka tower. Beautiful view but totally bacheloresque. Somehow it just makes GG more lovable, though. A dinner later we were at the party, held at Agave, a Roppongi bar with descriptor "hundreds of tequilas served in a cave-like basement." Sounds about right. We took care of that tequila just fine and ended the night in classic Tokyo style--at karaoke until 5AM, ramen until 6AM, and then back home just in time to see why Japan is indeed called the "Land of the Rising Sun."

Anyway, S graciously thanked GG and I for such a great party and admitted that it wasn't so bad celebrating his birthday after all. I could have told him that from years of experience-- (my birthday is my favorite holiday!) but instead let him sleep off his hangover. At that age, you need it.

Thailand...

If my online absence is any indication of how busy my life is, then you may guess that I haven't even had time to think let alone write. I'll do my best to update, as there have been some items of mild interest, though most of them may just be lost in translation.

THAILAND, March 19-28:
We are not by any means talking about glitz and glamour, but good fun does not always necessarily take G&G. Anyway, I had B&L, Becca--high school friend and current globetrotter--she's been traveling around Australia, Southeast Asia, and now Japan since November; Lionel--big, hairy French friend of S, who had planned a trip to Thailand for a soccer tournament and took some extra time off for a vacation. The three of us made one, very awkward but funny threesome. The dynamics of this manage a trois were perhaps the funniest part of this trip. Becca brings out the wild side of me with her spontaneity and spirit, and Lionel, well, Lionel is just a big teddy bear who I think was just thoroughly entertained by these two out of control vibrant, young girls.

The trip began in Bangkok where strange smells and kooky travelers seep out of every crack and crevice of the brutally hot city. We hung out around the traveler's area, called Koh San Road, where anything and everything was for sale at various prices, depending on one's ethnicity, language skills and negotiating prowess. After our fill of being ripped off a few bhat here a few more there, on Day 2 we headed to the island of Koh Samet (to get ripped off somewhere else), which was a 3-hour bus ride and 1-hour rickety boat ride from Bangkok. According to Becca, because of the tsunami, prices have gone up and more Thai are vacationing in Koh Samet. We found the only bungalow left, as it seemed, at the resort with the big beach "discotechque." One tiny cabin with no hot water, no flushable toilet, and what I thought was a dying rooster in our vent (it turned out to be a gecko), and one small bed... for the 3 of us. Lionel was in heaven (obviously), but it turned out to be more funny than anything else. After teaching the Frenchman the meaning of "spooning," I observed that we were positioned much more like butter knives than anything resembling spoons. The days were spent lounging on the beach, snorkeling, gorging ourselves with fresh seafood and sipping banana milkshakes. The nights were spent being extremely drunk or taking care of the one who had gotten extremely drunk that night. My night was the last one, full moon party, where I ALMOST (but didn't!) had a regrettable run-in with another long-haired Swede. More memorable was the return to Bangkok the next day, on a non-air conditioned mini bus, on which my stomach was grumbling and gurgling something fierce. I just HAD to get off that bus and said so about 5 times, but the driver, having been commissioned to stop at only one particular rest stop, inhumanely forced me to wait about an hour and a half until I could finally relieve myself of pure misery.

The remainder of Bangkok was spent once again shopping, this time in the weekend market, where Becca and I spent 5 hours and bought more than we could carry, all at the damage of only about $100 each. Triple strand freshwater pearls for $15--I call that a bargain! I also got S all of his birthday presents, which turned out to be a pretty big hit. Our last day (Becca's birthday) was spent at a tattoo parlor, where Becca got the tattoo she's always wanted (see the pics!) and the night at a trendy club called "Bedd"--great DJ, and in true Jo-chan fashion, I convinced Becca to dance at the front of the club on the speaker with me. Is it true you're not supposed to dance on a stage in Thailand with a mini skirt on? If so, pardon mon faux pas, s'il vous plait.
Finally finally, we flew to Singapore, which should perhaps more appropriately be called SimCity. I never would have imagined a place so well-groomed and thoroughly planned could have existed in the same hemisphere as the land of 7,000 funny smells called Thailand. More shopping and eating, and I was ready to return to a hot shower and temperate climate. But don't worry, I got it all on camera!