The swimming pool story

My friend Drum has an excellent swimming anecdote about one of his father's friends who was at a rather austere prep school in Scotland: the boys all had to swim naked, and on high days and holidays the headmaster would jump in too - also completely starkers.

It's a story which always goes down well which is unsurprising given how alien it sounds to modern ears; it is quite inconceivable that anything remotely similar could happen in a modern British school (where even plain old communal showers are now banned). In fact, it was probably pushing it a bit, even for the 50s.

Well, fast-forward to this Tuesday and I am busy minding my own business in the swimming pool showers at the end of my 60 lengths. The door slides open and in trots a swimming teacher followed by a gaggle of pupils. They all strip off, the teacher hoses them down one by one then they all hop into the bath together. Extraordinary.

I passed this sign in the street. I can't help feeling the logo at the bottom looks like a rather unpleasant pictogram.

A common site outside Japanese restaurants are samples of the top menu items, all made in plastic. They can look very realistic.

The Japanese are nationally obsessed with the 'cute'. I haven't quite got to the bottom of what defines cute, but this is certainly the quality which has spawned phenomenon like Hello Kitty; and why the Eton choir is so warmly received when it comes here on tour. Unsurprising, then, to find a pet shop in the centre of Tokyo filled with tiny puppies and kittens. The bottom photo was make a Japanese girl swoon all the way to the bank to fish out the £800 or so they were asking...

Tonight we're off to Yokohama to see a Cambridge acting group put on some Shakespeare.

School day 2

We had great fun today. Of a kind. The lessons mainly involved the teacher hiding dictionaries and pens around the room asking us to say where they were.

Tom was finding it hard to keep awake during our discussion of watches. The teacher asked him, "And is that a clock over there, Tom?" He slowly stirred on hearing his name, saw the teacher pointing not far from the map and promptly said, "Germany."

Languages are perennially entertaining. The Japanese for propelling pencil is 'shaapu penshiru', from the English sharp pencil because it is always sharp (one presumes). Martin had his propelling rubber out today. Now, a rubber is normally 'keshi gomu' but to get the propelling part across the teacher called it a 'shaapu keshi gomu'. A sharp rubber. I liked that.

I swam again. Then we went for sushi. It was all right but not as good as the sushi from the other day. I grabbed a few snaps but didn't get one of the elver sushi. Or whatever it was. Tiny white fishy snakey things. On one bite sized piece of sushi there were maybe 20 or so. Little wrigglers.

Odd place. Very expensive but you have to sit on beer crates
and cushions.

(Waiter with the day's specials stuck to his back - I think.)

More fun in Japanese swimming pools

We had our first day of school. We have three different teachers. Between 9.30 and 12.30 we have four 45min lessons (the teachers appear to rotate) with 10 minute breaks in between. The idea is that the first two lessons review the previous day's work and the latter two break new ground. However, said ground is not entirely new because we have to preview each day's lesson the night before in our homework. Very thorough.

We're not mean to have our textbooks open during the lessons. They're meant to be purely oral and have so far consisted in firing questions around the room. Is this a dictionary? No, it's a table. Is this your mother's soy bean? No, it's my father's pencil and so on.

The teachers don't speak English. It's a nice idea but I am not yet convinced it is the most efficient way of teaching a language, especially one with such nuts grammar. It may take longer to explain details but the plus side is showing already: those constructions used in class feel natural and do not take as much thinking about as items only gleaned from grammar pages. Rather too early to tell, though.

At the end of each day our homework consists of reviewing the whole day's work and previewing the following day's. That takes a long time but it seems it has to be done to avoid falling behind. I am now quite tired like this zonked out office worker I spotted on the way back from supper:

So, still no time to write up yesterday's swimming pool story but there was another extraordinary moment tonight. As I was timing out in the shallow end, a chap came along with one arm and no legs. Surely he can't be going to swim, I thought, but he started stretching his arm vigorously by the side of the pool. And then, quick as a flash, he skipped up onto the pool ledge (in a manual way), jumped in and promptly sank like a stone.

Lo and behold, the single arm gave a thrust and he bobbed back to the surface, gasped for a breath and sank again. And then he was off, length after length and very efficiently. If I said he swam faster than me, I'd be lying. But he was pretty bloody quick.

Last day of freedom

School starts tomorrow. Early.

Last night I woke up at 2am. Rather frustrating as I had thought I was starting to sleep through the night as jet-lag wore off.

It turns out the reason I woke up was because there was a small earthquake.

Ah.

This morning we went to the DAJF offices for another briefing. This afternoon I went swimming. (It was raining so I did not fancy much more exploring than that.) A funny story from the pool to share but I need my (hopefully earthquake-free) sleep in time for tomorrow.

Grand saunter around

We went swimming in the pool at the Tokyo National Stadium. We think this may have been the pool used at the Tokyo olympics in 1964. I am quite convinced that a nation's habits in and around swimming pools can tell you a huge amount about its culture at large. I am preparing a short monograph to explore this idea for future publication.

The showers are always the best bit. And none better than today's. Imagine constructing your child a miniature dressing table. The table is about a foot off the ground and cast in concrete. The stool is plastic and about six inches high. When you, as a Japanese adult, squat at the table, there is a mirror at head height. Add a plastic hose and shower head and, voilà, a Japanese pool shower.

There are three rows of these in the shower room and everyone squats starkers on their tiny stool (chair) and hoses off. Running along the far end of the room is a communal bath. Lots of OAP flotsam. Avoided.

After swimming I went off to explore. First, I needed lunch, and located something I had been looking for: a hot-dog vending machine. It was nestled in a vast array of different machines.

In fact, it didn't just sell hot dogs but a whole menu of 'casual frozen foods'.

The machine was proud to announce it kept all items at -24C. I purchased my hot dog for 300 or so yen (a few pounds), a counter popped up and within 80 seconds a small box popped out.

Inside, two miniature hot-dogs, individually wrapped.

Each sausage was piping hot, in soft bread and pre-squirted with ketchup and sweet mustard.

A triumph.

I pottered off to a shrine (Hatomori-jinja) which was rather nice.

Across the road was a high-walled cemetery.

I sauntered off to browse some shops and find the local park. On the way I passed a double decker garage. These and variations are everywhere.

I also passed these chaps.

And I stumbled on a Japanese car boot sale. Much the same crap as you get in England. More remote controls.

The only thing worth photographing was a van advertising the Japan Fiber-recycle Solidarity Association.

In the park all the roads were shut off for what appeared to be municipal cycling lessons. There were rows and rows of children's bikes, brasarded instructors and various practice circuits for complete beginners to the competent. A sound initiative.

I went on to the National Noh Theatre and managed to book a ticket for the next production. Luckily, it's a play I've already read, I managed a tidy 30% student discount and there appear to be English subtitles. Can't wait.

Going home, I passed a removal man with a very Japanese bottom half.

Day 3

Rose late feeling awfully tired - I think I should be over jetlag by now but it seems not - and went for lunch with an old schoolfriend.

He took me to an excellent sushi bar where we ate sushi.

The famous crossing at Shibuya (near my school).

Then we went to a huge department store called Isetan. In the basement is the most enormous food hall. The patisserie section alone had around 25 different patisserie boutiques including some of the finest names in the world, like Pierre Hermé. What a paradise and a shame I ate so much sushi. I did succumb to some Ispahan ice-cream which was excellent.

Photo for Pip from the underground x

We also explored an 8 floor bookshop with a young lady who operated the lift complete with white fishnet gloves.

Another photo from the underground.
Not for anyone in particular. Hannah?

A quick turnaround tonight before heading out for dinner with two other scholars. We found a terrific local restaurant and started with deep fried and breadcrumbed chicken liver, octopus, pork and chocolate cake (really). The menu was quite unusual.

"Salmonella on a stick"

We then had some extraordinary noodles which were served cold with a cold cup of sauce. We had a tough time working out what to do with the cup of sauce. In the end we poured it over the noodles. I wasn't convinced this was right, so tentatively sipped at what was left in my cup.

At this point it became apparent that the neighbouring table of locals were having a good laugh at our expense and they told us we were meant to be dipping the noodles into the cups. They were very amused. We expressed our delight and, overcome by a wave of Nippon authenticity, Sam grinned and tried to say 'bon appetit' loudly in Japanese but it came out as a similar word meaning, 'I just came'.

The food was delicious. Anyone who visits shall be taken here, too.

A trip to school

This morning we visited our language school for a brief induction and test. We did some hiragana dictation and some katakana fill-in-the-blanks. The hiragana were fine but the blanks on the katakana sheet were echoed on the cerebral slate. I entertained some judicious sideways glances.

The principal, who spoke very pleasant English, told us of the school's history; how it emerged from a method used to teach Allied Intelligence Forces during WWII; and that even an event like your sister's wedding would not, in Japan, be considered a reasonable excuse for missing a class. He hinted at considerable sympathy for illness, however, so perhaps the Japanese have a more developed gift for lying. (I could certainly rustle up a nasty case of the pox were sufficient marital temptation on the cards.)

We slipped off to a rather good tempura restaurant for lunch. A Japanese meal at last. It was worth the wait.

This afternoon we trooped off to visit an estate agent which was very informative; it seems decent sized and decent priced rooms are out there for the having.

I then bought some triumphantly kitsch pants which was rather a mistake. I happened to see them in a shop window as I pottered around Shibuya: boxers adorned with a huge array of French macaroons. Sadly I bought them. They were fiendishly pricey but my limited Japanese did not allow me to retract the interest I had initially expressed so I had to buy. They are also too small. Of course. But even so:

And for dinner we were whisked off by a past scholar to another quite tremendous Japanese meal. Shoes were removed at the door, the tables were sunken into wells and the kitchen was in its own trough in the centre for all to spectate.

Essentially one is sitting on the floor with one's feet
tucked into a well.

The meal kicked off with a Japanese-style green salad. We then had mackerel sashimi. The skin was scorched at the table and dowsed in lemon juice. This was insanely delicious and served with a Japanese mustard and pickled ginger.

This was followed with what appeared to be a rather unappetizing block of tofu; but eaten with the seasoning and a delicious sweet chili jam-type thing, this was really rather good.

The courses flowed very swiftly. Next, a raw tuna and avocado affair, served on garlic bread. (Does this count as crossover?)

Then a sweet course in the shape of a cream cheese with honey and almonds.

Then a break for sake, served in and poured from bamboo.

Then some delicious sushi (and something else which I did not snap), followed by some phenomenal tempura prawnish things with a raw egg dip. Much better than what we had at lunch, even though that was good.

And finally some ice cream.

This was a cracking meal and very reasonably priced at 4000 yen (c. £32) given that all alcohol was included on a drink-as-much-as-you-like basis. Anyone who makes it out to Tokyo will be taken here unless I find somewhere better in the meantime.

Afterwards we went to a bar with some unusual decor.

This was the lamp on our table. About a foot high.

As we winded our way back to the tube we past the same hawker in a fat suit who had been there when we arrived.