The Single Life

No no, I haven't been dumped (phew!). S left for France Friday night, leaving me to my own devices, and reminding me of what "life pre-S" was like. I still can't get over just how much I got done. I should include, however, that this weekend "on my own" was also a weekend of staying relatively sober and not partying at night. I was literally dying of exhaustion from the week, so I finally crashed Friday night, still being unprepared, however, for all of this:

1. out of bed at 9 AM as opposed to the average 2 PM. Saturday and Sunday mornings-- I admit I forgot what they looked like! It's amazing the amount I can get done if I wake up 5 hours earlier-- things like laundry, which can be hung outside on the line in daylight and therefore dry in just a couple of hours; cleaning the apartment top to bottom; ironing my huge pile of wrinkly clothes (my most hated task, hence the pile); cleaning out the fridge; and other household tasks that usually get shoved aside.

2. being on time for my hair cut. Honestly, the past 3 times I have had to call for being more than 15 minutes late, because I couldn't pull myself out of bed. This time I even went shopping for presents for people back home AND ate lunch outside at a cafe-- all before my appointment!

3. SHOPPING! Lots and lots of shopping for Jo-Lo, because I had time to walk from Harajuku to Shibuya instead of rushing to catch the soonest train to get to some other place I'm late for. Two pairs of sneakers (there was a phenomenal sale, I swear!) and a sweater that I fell in love with later, I made a quick but much required trip to the bank before meeting the girls.

4. girl time! Went to karaoke with my bunnies and lunched and browsed in Jyuugaoka with A. Rode my mama-chari uphill there and back in true "weekender" style.

5. went to church. SHOCK! It was the first time since Christmas, and my first ever time in Japan. Most of you probably don't know but could probably guess ;-) that I was a Catholic schoolgirl, and that my 2nd grade teacher, who was a Salesian nun, and I still keep in touch. She wrote me an Easter letter and enclosed with it the name of a Salesian convent close to me in case I ever wanted to do some volunteer work. This has guiltily lurked in the back of my mind, but I just never found the time to go... until my weekend of free time, that is. This morning I found the church, very coincidentally, I might add (ask if you want to know the whole story, because I think it is some kind of spiritual beckoning to me), and went to a Mass in Japanese. I found it most amusing, maybe, that the service was pretty much directly translated from the English Mass, so even when they refer to Christ as the "lamb," etc., they say "hitsuji" in Japanese. It makes sense, but just sounded strange to me. Despite the "Japanese-ness" of it all, it was very natsukashii-- the atmosphere was so much like my Catholic school in Roseto, PA, it was uncanny. I can't explain it very well, but even the nuns, who had Japanese faces, still had the same gestures and mannerisms as my schoolteachers back home.

So, what do I conclude about my weekend? It's great to have one of these for a catch-up every once in a while, yes. But would I rather have an "S"-filled weekend of sleep, sun, and se... ahem, silliness? Absolutely!

Taking leave

Currently in the process of trying to dig myself out of this funk of exhaustion and monotony that I find myself in. Lately they seem to go hand in hand-- exhaustion from going out on week nights to make up for the monotony of the long days sitting idly at my desk... I say idly with the exception of last night, when I was here until after 10pm on the night I had planned a farewell party for Becca. It's always good when the party planner is the last to show up.

The leaving theme continues. Tonight is another farewell for Keruko, a friend I met through Px. After 8 years in Japan, she's finally off to explore the Western world-- beginning with the good ol' US of A. Then for a temporary leave-- S goes to France tomorrow for a week with his family before meeting me on my home turf. Already on Wednesday, it's my turn! I leave for my whirlwind visit to all of the friends and family I haven't seen in what feels like ages! There is just not enough time! Tentative itinerary includes:

June 1-4: Arrival, long deep sleeps interrupted by bouts of the jet lag sit-ups-- you know, when in the middle of the night you sit up in bed and realize that you're totally awake (and hungry!), catching up with my best friend K, long chats with the Mom about my future (which she will try to convince me to live in Nazareth, PA), shopping shopping shopping with the Sis, and all of this complemented by intake of greasy Philly cheesesteaks, homemade pierogies and God willing some type of red meat every night.

June 4-5: Catch up to the latest tunes on the radio while driving to DC, pick up S at the airport, crazy crazy night of drunken debauchery with my DC girls who I've been missing IMMENSELY, and my oh-so-beloved male friends who make me laugh just thinking about them, some sightseeing, a dinner on the Georgetown waterfront, a walk along the Tidal Basin, a look at the city from Lincoln's lap. Ahhhh-- seems so good!

June 6: A stop in Nazo on the way to NYC. An unnamed wanker from Ohio has told S and GG that "Pennsylvania is the butthole of the country, and Nazareth is the butthole of Pennsylvania." Can you believe that!!? OK it's not Manhattan, but Nazareth is a charming town! Just for that, I am making S see it for himself.

June 6-10: NYC here we come! Spending some QT with friends of mine and S, strolling Central Park, shopping shopping some more, seeing a show, and stuffing myself with NY bagels, NY pizza, and other fattening Italian dishes that are just that much better in New York. Seems I will be fat on this trip... Did I mention exercise anywhere?

Only 3 more workdays to go.....

Day of disaster...

1. Firetrucks blocked my walk to the station this morning. Fire at the local supermarket! And on top of it, I'm out of yogurt. What to do now!?

2. I board the train headed for my office. Elated, I had actually made it on time for the 8:15 that goes straight to my office with no stopovers. These trains run only every 15 minutes or so, and I incessantly miss them and have to switch lines. My headphones are on full blast as usual, preventing me from hearing any announcement that could inform me of why we don't seem to be headed underground for the subway. I remove my earpieces and catch, "Jinshin jiko..." There was an accident on the Hibiya line, and my train was rerouted to Shibuya. Great. A bone crushing hour and five minutes later (since all trains were even more crowded than usual, as if that's possible), I arrive at work.

3. For all of those who have been e-mailing and wondering why I'm not responding, our work e-mail server was shut down for the weekend for a cleaning. Just to top off this strange, strange day, there were some more complications, and e-mail won't be running for the rest of today or tomorrow. We are now communicating with all clients by fax and phone. My boss remarked, "We have to remember what it was like working before the age of computers." First of all, I wasn't of working age then... second of all, don't you think it's a bit different since at that time everyone else was working without computers too? The monotony of the day has been broken only by writing this blog entry and a tuna and avocado sandwich at lunch time. THAT's how exciting it's been.

4. I can't even wait to see what will be next.

Love & Marriage: Part 2

Funny how these entries about love & marriage never involve me! hehe

A HUGE congratulations and lots of hugs & kisses to T. & Oli-chan, who have just gotten engaged. But not only engaged-- at least on paper, they will be married next week-- which also makes them my first ever friends to get married! Are we really at that age now?! Two of my very good friends are getting married, and I can say, "I knew both of them way back then... before they were ever even together!" I met, or at least knew of, both of them when we all studied together at Nanzan Daigaku.

We joked that soon we will have to call Oli-chan "Mrs. Kennedy," which is even more Irish-sounding than I am (as if that's possible!). And O. was saying that in Korea, when the women get married, it's like they are erased from existence! They are removed from the records, because their family name changes, and then they are just swallowed by the Kim or Lee or Park or whatever family they marry into-- but not really as a person on record. Even on their tombstone, it will just have their husbands' names. So O. is a bit ruffled by the fact that she will "become" a Kennedy and will miss her name. I just hope my husband has a name towards the beginning of the alphabet. I always liked being a "C" and getting to go to lunch first and that sort of thing in elementary school... but maybe by then there will be more politically correct ways of "student selection" in place.

Life for me is moving quickly-- many changes in the pipeline-- not ready to go into detail yet, but soon!

Snippets for safekeeping...

Still bored at work, but beginning a new struggle.

Now trying to take very deep breaths and engrave the smells in my memory. Stark air, perhaps mixed with the occasional whiff of grilled meat from a yakiniku restaurant. Sake on the breath of the ojisan next to me on the last train. The sulfur of the onsen water, combined with the remnants of the day's rain.

Listening to my heels clicking the pavement as I walk the streets of Gakugei from the station to my house. Reminds me I need to make an effort to stop into those little shops that I always think are so cute but will visit another time. Can I even tire of hearing, "Mamonaku, ichi-ban sen ni densha ga mairimasu."? And I remember laughs. Soooo many laughs with the girls, with S, with myself-- usually at myself. I am so clueless sometimes.

And worst yet, trying to ingrain the image of a person in the memory. I think this is the hardest. I can always remember the individual parts-- eyes, nose, hair, mouth-- one at a time. But when I try to piece them together it somehow becomes more blurry. But this is my challenge for the next few months. Trying to soak up everything so much that the memories last a lifetime.

Sorry for the weird entry.

Ask me why later.

Food for thought...

This morning I found an interesting follow up to my previous entry:

South Korea strives to reduce overseas adoptions, overcome stigma of adoption at home
By IN-YOUNG BANG
The Associated Press. All Rights Reserved.

SEOUL, South Korea (AP) - Paula Louise O'Loughlin once thought she'd never return to the land where she was abandoned as a baby 34 years ago and adopted by an American couple.

She's now back in South Korea for the first time since 1971 to adopt a baby of her own -- joining the tide of foreign parents who find a child here.

But in a country with falling birth rates, the South Korean government is seeking to stem the flood of children sent abroad, viewed as a national shame.

Since the end of the Korean War in the 1950s, South Korea has sent more than 155,000 children abroad for adoption. Some two-thirds of those have gone to the United States, where children of South Korean origin make up the largest group of foreign adoptees at 56,825, according to the latest U.S. Census conducted in 2000.

The number of domestic adoptions has remained in the 1,500-1,800 range in South Korea for the past five years, while international adoptions were above the 2,200 mark, according to Health and Welfare Ministry statistics.

Health and Welfare Minister Kim Geun-tae has called South Korea's plummeting birth rate "one of the most serious challenges" facing the country and spearheaded efforts to boost domestic adoptions.
"Children, especially single-mother babies, are unwillingly sent overseas to find their home when we, our people, need to raise our children," said Kweon Sang-chil, a ministry official.

Adoption has typically been shunned in Korean society, whose Confucian values place high value on blood relations. Some parents who adopt children even move to different cities to conceal their children's status.
"Korean people tend to keep a distance from someone who doesn't share the same bloodline," said Chung Ick-joong, social welfare professor at Duksung Women's University in Seoul. "Many parents who adopt a child hide the fact that their child was adopted."

Jeong Hye-kyeong, a social worker at Eastern Social Welfare Society, said in order to reduce the number of abandoned babies, the number of single mothers must also be lowered. Single mothers receive little support and are looked upon as having made a mistake, leading many to give up their babies.

Jeong also noted many Koreans won't adopt children with disabilities. Last year, 705 disabled children were sent for adoption overseas while only seven found new homes here.

"If a country can't support raising many orphans in the nation, I think sending those kids abroad ... wouldn't be so horrible," said Chung.

O'Loughlin -- who grew up in Minnesota -- came to Seoul with her husband Sean to adopt a second child, a 7-month-old boy they named Daniel Peter Jeong O'Loughlin.

"I've always felt that it is a good thing that I was adopted," O'Loughlin said.

"Me too," said Jo-Lo.

Girls just wanna have fun...

Playing dress up after too much red wine

Wakayama pics

Rainbow over the bottom of Nachi Falls ... click the pic for more!

The lies we tell...

Golden Week, true to its name, was definitely worth a gold medal in my book. One day of work, two days of good rest in Tokyo, and three days spent with S in Wakayama on a little trip to the countryside. We did the southeast section of Wakayama-- Nachi falls, a short hike on Kumano-dou, Doryoko Gorge, and a couple of famous shrines.

The scenery was beautiful, and we had two days of nice weather, sandwiching a day of pouring rain, which was smartly spent under cover on a boat through the gorge. But as corny as it sounds, the best part of the trip was the company. It seems like no matter what we do, whether we're on a bus or eating raw fish together or soaking in an onsen, every minute with S is so much fun. The longer we're together, the more I keep thinking, ok, this can't get any better, and then it does. Well, my love life was not to be the point of this entry, but as you can see, I'm constantly distracted.

I don't often think much about my heritage, and I'm rarely confused about where I come from or who I am. I've always been so American-- I AM so American, that it's never been a problem. But in just the past week, I've had two experiences that have made me identify with a "Korean side" that I'm not sure is even really a side. Maybe it's just a loose identification.

Experience no. 1 occurred in Wakayama, where S actually "stuck out" as a gaijin. In Tokyo, people don't pay a mere glance at foreigners anymore, but in the countryside, I feel like S should have attached a sign to his forehead that said, "GAIJIN DA." And since I was with him, I got the obvious questions. "Dochira kara kimashita ka?" to which I always answer "America." But that answer is never satisfactory. The next question is anticipated. "Nikkeijin desu ka?" (Are you Japanese-American?) "Okaasan wa nihonjin desu ka?" (Is your mother Japanese?) And I found myself answering with little white lies that eventually turned into full-blown stories. By the end of one day in Wakayama, I was a fourth-generation Japanese-American whose family originally came from Toyota-shi (where my host family lived). I was raised in America and spoke Japanese because I studied it in university (that part was true). So why did I lie? Partly because I felt more comfortable being Japanese than Korean in the Japanese countryside, and partly because I am tired of explaining. But how many times do you need to tell a lie before you begin forgetting the truth?

Experience no. 2 occurred back in Tokyo with S' friend who is now living in Seoul, having moved there from Tokyo last summer. His girlfriend is Japanese, and he loves Japan and really misses living in Tokyo, understandably so. But though it is easy to understand why he, as a Frenchman, may prefer Japan to Korea, as I, as an American, might as well, I found myself inwardly if not outwardly becoming defensive of Korea and its people. The tensions between Japan and Korea are still quite strong, especially recently over the controversial island of Takeshima, or Tok-do, depending on how you're siding, and unfortunately, it's quite hard for his Japanese girlfriend and him to avoid some anti-Japanese sentiment. Anyway, my point is not who is right or wrong in the history of relations between Japan and Korea. That is a conclusion for someone with either more knowledge or more experience to determine. But I was surprised that I felt myself getting increasingly defensive with every criticism of Koreans that I heard, whether it was a valid point or not. It wasn't even a conscious reaction, but more a feeling in the pit of my stomach. I was thinking (to myself of course while keeping my "tatemae" in tact), who are they to talk about Korea and Koreans? What do they know? When in fact, they probably know more than I do-- they have at least lived there. And so what does that make me? A hypocrite? Or a victim of circumstance?

And here I am. An American living in Japan and telling old Japanese men in the countryside that I am Japanese, though it seems as though I still have a sizable piece of Korea lurking somewhere in my gut. Confused? If not you are a better person than I.

Return of the Jedi, er, Jo-Lo...

Lonely days are gone-- I'm acomin' home. I'm leavin' on a jet plane...
OK, enough old song lines.

The dates are set, and the plans are in the works! June 1st Jo-Lo comes to Nazo, via Newark, where my dear friend K is picking me up. I visit with Mom, do a little shopping, and then off to DC on Saturday the 4th... and I won't be alone! S is flying into D.C. from Paris on the 4th, and he will be peering into my not-so-mature and developed past and meeting the GW gang. I have already been promised a Phi Psi party in my honor, complete with beer pong and poker. Needless to say, I'm frightened! But it will be nice to show him the city that won my heart for four years, and the people that made my university years unforgettable if not unregrettable ;-)

On the 6th or 7th, we'll leave for NYC, where both S and I have some friends. Mom has expressed interest in coming to meet us for a day, which I haven't yet mentioned to S (he is in Hong Kong at the moment). I can already picture his eyes darting for the door as he frantically ties up his running shoes. Hehe, if I were him, I'd run too!

And those are the current plans. I have to admit, I'm a bit surprised that S decided to do this trip after all... his flight back from NY is hell-- 18 hours with a stop back in Paris before rerouting to Tokyo. Clearly he's a keeper!

And to top it all off, I will be back just in time to meet Mash at Narita airport-- our flights arrive almost the same time for her week-long stay in Tokyo. Then it's some more girly craziness just a few oceans away!

The crowds are already lining up! I've got McK from N Carolina driving up to DC to see me-- if she can do it, you can too!! Mark your calendars for this once-in-a-lifetime (or at least once-in-a-year) opportunity!! Thank you in advance.

Love & Marriage...

A little over a month ago, I received a mail from my mother saying that my great Uncle Danny, in his mid-eighties, had passed away. Uncle Danny and my Aunt Eleanor are the only relatives I kept in touch with from my father's side. Eccentric is an understatement for Aunt El-- she made her clothes from old curtains and tablecloths, making her appear much like a hippy from the 60s trapped in the body of a 80 yr old woman. Their claim to fame was that they appeared in the 1996 Guinness Book of World Records for annually dressing in their original wedding attire and having their photo taken for their 54 years of marriage. A conversation does not pass without them mentioning their "celebrity status."

I have fond memories of them from my childhood, because though Aunt El surely can't dress to save her life, she could play a hell of a mean piano. Almost every Sunday afternoon when I was a child, maybe up until age 6 or 7, my mother would cook a huge pasta dinner with homemade tomato sauce, and Aunt El and Uncle Danny would come over. We'd gather around the piano-- Aunt El could play almost every old song by ear, and we'd have a big singalong-- mostly old Irish tunes or just plain old tunes. My sister would sing the loudest, and if you can believe it, back in the day before my karaoke diva days, I was too shy to sing at all. I think everyone thought I was too young to remember the words; but in fact, whenever someone couldn't remember a word or a verse to the song, I would say it-- I remembered every word-- but I was the little piano player (I think all I could play at that time was Chopsticks) and my sister was the singer. How funny!

Anyway, all of this background does have a point. I wrote to my Aunt Eleanor after I heard Uncle Danny died (I heard she wasn't doing so well), and I received a letter today that, if anything, renewed my hope in love and marriage, even though it was horribly depressing. The letter is quite repetitive, but one can't really expect the wisdom from an old widow in her mid-eighties to flow like an essay.

"Next month May 18th would have been our 55th wedding anniversary--getting dressed up in our original wedding clothes. Don't forget we are celebrities! We made the 1996 Book of Guinness with a picture of us in our original wedding outfits. What a beautiful life your Uncle Danny and I shared. We weren't like old married people-- we were still very much in love with each other. How I miss his arms around me! If and when you marry I wish God will give you the heaven on earth marriage your Uncle Danny and I had."

She repeated almost this same paragraph again earlier in the letter. I am 23 years old. This means they had been married more than twice the number of years I've even been alive. And they were still madly in love with each other. She says four times, "It's awful without him."
In a world where cynicism about marriage, love, and monogamy comes at you from every direction, it's refreshing to hear that somewhere, at sometime, "true love" does exist. And what a nice thought that someone, somewhere was kind enough to wish that for me.

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!