My company has just announced that effective August 1st, all offices and facilities will become non-smoking.

Nice.

After nearly three years of inhaling enough second-hand smoke to most likely guarantee a future onslaught of lung cancer, this is great news.

Now I’ll just have to wait to see whether it’s actually enforced.

As you may have noticed, I have a bit of a problem in that I tend not to take very many photos of people. My grandma used to say that if a picture didn’t have a person in it, it was a waste of film; but seeing as Judy doesn’t like to pose for photos and I don’t need to see my ugly mug more than I already do, it’s just easier to take photos of scenery and architecture and the like.

However, most people tend to find those sort of photos a tad dull. Therefore, today’s photos all contain people, some of whom are even LOOKING AT THE CAMERA!

After visiting the National Palace Museum (as mentioned yesterday), Judy and I returned to the city and Josh and Wei Wei took us out to dinner to meet some of their friends. They definitely were a nice bunch of people, but that wasn’t surprising since Josh is an amiable guy and makes great friends wherever he goes (the affable bastard). After dinner, we went a club called Roxy 99, where we proceeded to get quite inebriated, in which state the photos below were taken.

On our second day in Taiwan, Judy and I ventured out to the National Palace Museum, which is considered to be the world’s largest repository of Chinese artifacts. The collection, some 700,000 pieces spanning about 5,000 years, was once housed in Beijing’s Forbidden City before a series of political upheavals eventually led to its arrival in Taiwan. Apparently when the Nationalists fled to Taiwan they brought China’s greatest historical treasures with them. Lucky for us, eh?

Today’s photos are from the Chih-Shan Garden, a reproduction of an 11th century Sung dynasty garden, which is located on the museum grounds.

Recently the hot topic of “conversation” (if it can be called that) in my office is what people will be doing for the upcoming summer holiday next month. In typical Japanese salaryman fashion, many of my colleagues will spend the week-long holiday at home watching television in between daily visits to the office. They may even squeeze in a trip to the driving range if they can find the time.

Aah, the good life.

Anyhow, since I’m one of the few people who hasn’t yet finalized my plans, every person I chat with about the holiday likes to give me their opinion about where I should visit. Curiously, they all offer the same advice: “You should go to Kyoto.”

Every single one. I kid you not.

Japanese people seem to have an strange fascination-bordering-on-obsession with Kyoto. The impression I get is that Kyoto is a representation of traditional Japanese culture; a place where the Japanese spirit lives on, despite the rampant materialism and hyper-consumerism that plague Japanese society today. Or something like that.

“Yes, many Japanese temple and historic place,” they say. “You can see the Japanese traditional life.” Sounds all fine and dandy, however — and this is a big however — oddly enough, whenever I ask if the person recommending Kyoto has ever been there, nine times out of ten they’ll sheepishly admit that they’ve only been there once and that it was for a junior high school trip (which usually took place before I was born). Arbitrarily recommending a destination that one has no inclination to visit oneself . . . well, that’s just odd, isn’t it?

It’s Friday evening and I am beat. I’ve been sitting here for ten minutes trying to write something, but my brain has decided to turn in early for the night and so I can’t even manage to construct a coherent sentence. So please forgive me if this entry makes less sense than my usual nonsense.

Judy and I went to Taiwan at the end of April of this year to visit my good friend Josh and do a bit of sightseeing. The trip was a blast — we visited some interesting places, met some cool people and sampled tons of delicious Taiwanese food. I even learned how to say “toilet” in Mandarin.

Anyway, I’ve been wanting to put some photos up from the trip for months, but I’ve found it difficult to find the time to do so (OK, OK, I’m a lazy bastard, I know). Therefore, I’ve decided that instead of trying to put them all up at once, I’ll just put a few up whenever I get a chance.

Today’s photos are from the Chiang Kai-Shek Memorial, which was the first place we visited on the trip. Impressive, ain’t it?

It’s ironic that not two hours after I wrote the previous post during my lunch break the air conditioning in my office stopped working. It’s seriously like a frickin’ sauna in here now, minus the cedar and the naked men (or women if you’re lucky). My ass has now become one with my chair.

I swear, if I hear someone say “atsui ne!” one more time, I’m going to throw them through the window. At least that might create a draft.

Screw it, I’m going home.

It’s hot.

Today it’s 38°C/100°F with 50% relative humidity. Yesterday was similar, as was every other day in the past three weeks.

The oppressive heat is inescapable. I perspire at the slightest exertion, including otherwise sedentary activities such as breathing.

My nether regions swelter like a primordial jungle. Beads of sweat roll down the backs of my legs as I stand in the crowded train. My underclothes are soaked through by the time I get to work and cling to me for the rest of the day. People in my office greet each other in the morning with “atsui ne!” (”it’s hot, eh!”), whilst wiping sweat from their brow.

My only comfort is the knowledge that this weather will only continue for another month and a half or so before the arrival of Autumn. Then I will bask in comfortably cooler weather, which — if past experience is any indication — will last about two weeks, after which everyone will start to complain about how cold it is.

As annoying as it may be for a non-smoker like me, in Japan the smell of cigarette smoke is as ubiquitous as bespectacled salarymen, sushi, karaoke, Godzilla, tentacle porn and all of the other things that people elsewhere associate with this country (although ninjas are sadly very scare). Having grown up in California, where smoking cigarettes is about as uncouth as knocking up your grandmother, it was a bit of an adjustment getting accustomed to spending nearly every waking hour enshrouded in a cloud cigarette smoke, but I am now depressingly used to it.

Surprisingly (to me, at least), Japanese people regard smoking as little more than a bad habit and there is essentially no education here regarding the many health risks associated with it. Thus, while cigarette packaging in other developed countries contains warnings labels such as “SMOKING WILL MAKE YOUR DICK SHRIVEL UP AND DIE”, in Japan the labels merely say, “There may be a risk of damage to your health, so be careful not too smoke too much.” Why doesn’t the government require stronger warnings? Well, that would be bad for business, seeing as the Japanese government is the largest shareholder in Japan Tobacco (!).

However, feeling pressure from anti-smoking activists and foreign governments alike, Japan Tobacco has implemented a campaign to increase public awareness of the dangers of smoking. Recently, I happened to see one of their new advertisements in the train during my commute:

“WTF?” you ask? Yes, in the typical Japanese “path of least resistance” manner, Japan Tobacco has chosen to focus on the “manners” aspect of smoking, rather than the harmful health risks (”Forget about cancer and birth defects, YOU MIGHT POKE SOMEONE’S EYE OUT!!”). This began a few years ago, with such campaigns as “Smoking Clean” and “Are you a good smoker?” which all focused on educating smokers on proper smoking etiquette. The slogan of the new campaign is “Anata ga kizukeba, manaa ha kawaru” (roughly “If you take notice, your manners will change”).

Um . . . yeah.

I tried to snap a photo of the ad, but unfortunately with the rocking of the train and the stares of everyone else in the carriage wondering why the crazy foreigner was taking pictures of a smoking advertisement, the photo didn’t turn out very well. So instead, I went over to the Japan Tobacco website and found several brilliant examples that are each works of art unto themselves. I promptly stole them and have set up a gallery on this site in order to preserve them for all time. Let the hilarity ensue.

When you’re in a relationship, it’s important to occasionally surprise your significant other with gifts in order to get them to touch your naughty bits show them that you care. As I mentioned previously, it was Judy’s birthday last week and so this past Saturday I put my reservations about the Disney corporation aside and we went to Tokyo Disneyland to celebrate.

Being the awesome boyfriend that I am (”haha, you wish” says Judy), I decided to make the event extra special by reserving a room at the Disney Ambassador Hotel. This took a bit of forethought and planning on my part as the hotel is booked solid months in advance, but it was definitely worth it just to see the smile on her face and the excitement in her eyes (awww . . . gagpukepissshit).

Of course, on any occasion when one stays at a nice hotel, it is obligatory to leave with as much complimentary crap as one can carry. This time was no exception, and as an added bonus, everything came in extremely cute packaging. My only regret is that we didn’t bring a larger suitcase.

Behold, the loot:

Unfortunately, in order to pay for last weekend’s festivities, I’ve been forced to whore myself out on the streets of Tokyo. Interested parties please inquire within. Me love you long time.

Wednesday was Judy’s birthday and so after work we met up in Shinjuku to check out a Taiwanese restaurant that I had heard good things about called Seiryumon: Ten to Ichi (”Seiryumon: Heaven and Earth”). The restaurant consists of two floors, each with a unique theme. Care to fancy a guess as to what they are?

We decided to go with the “earth” floor because I had heard that it was the more interesting of the two, and after exiting the elevator, we were amused to find ourselves standing before a small door next to which hung a metal gong. The hostess instructed me to hit the gong three times (actually six times, since I apparently didn’t hit it hard enough the first three times), upon which a slit opened in the door and a creepy mechanical “doorman” appeared and asked us for the password. I gave him the password and the door swung open, revealing a dimly lit cavern filled with small tables nestled about (I later found out that the restaurant was modeled after an old opium den in Hong Kong — how quaint).

Although “earth” seemed more like “hell” (which is rather true, I suppose), the restaurant turned out to be a pretty nice place. The atmosphere was a nice mixture of spooky and kooky, and our waiter was a guy named Toshiyuki Suzuki (haha, I’m such writer). Oh, and the food was pretty good, too.

Continuing with the hellish theme, Judy and I will be visiting Tokyo Disneyland on Saturday for further celebration of the blessed occasion (hey, that kind of rhymes too).

Fish don’t fry in the kitchen, Beans don’t burn on the grill
Catchy tune, ain’t it? Anyway, it’s old news by now, but in January of this year Judy and I moved to Tokyo. This marks my third residence here in Japan, and her fourth (running from the law is tireless work). Previously, I lived just outside of Tokyo in Saitama prefecture, otherwise known as the “armpit of Japan”, and before that, in the inbred wasteland that is Ibaraki prefecture.

Needless to say, compared to my previous two cities of residence, Tokyo is — to borrow a phrase from the Brit I met at the pub the other night — the dog’s bollocks. No longer am I exposed to unsophisticated cousin-marrying plebs sporting tweezed eyebrows, bleached orange mullets and oversized cartoon character-emblazoned track suits with matching Hello Kitty slippers. No longer are the only forms of entertainment in town a run-down arcade and the local convenience store parking lot. No longer am I stared at simply because of the amount of melanin in my body (or lack thereof). Yes folks, in Tokyo I am free to carry on my existence in relative anonymity, surrounded by relatively “normal” people (although that is still debatable). And even though the cost of living in Tokyo is expensive as fuuuck, the city has a lot to offer.

The new place may not be a de-luxe apartment in the sky, but it’s far nicer than my previous dwellings (read: utter shitholes) and I’m far happier here. Yes, we finally got a piece of the pie.

Anyway, I finally took some photos of the place, as promised months ago, and they are now up. Won’t you be my neighbor?

Sometimes when you’re in a foreign country, you’ll see something that you wouldn’t ever expect to see “back home” and it makes you laugh. It could be something funny, something strange, or even something mildly disturbing, but no matter the reason, it amuses you and the memory stays with you.

Since moving to Japan, I’ve certainly had my fair share of such experiences, but rarely have I had a camera nearby to capture them. However, on those rare occasions when I do happen to have a camera handy, I always try to politely snap a photo or two (that is, if I can manage to stop flagrantly gawking and pointing for a moment).

Thus, I now present to you the new Random Japan gallery. (I considered calling it the ‘Weird-Ass Shit’ gallery, but that didn’t seem very catchy.) I’m starting it off with the three photos below and will update it from time to time (i.e., when I can be bothered to do so), possibly with some sort of theme for each update. Today’s theme, I guess, is “people”. More specifically, people being weird. Weird-ass people. Doing weird-ass shit.