Fang au Japon: Video

Showing posts with label Video. Show all posts

Thursday, 2 October 2014

Kz bye bye, clapping-farewell, ping-pong, cafeina, and more.

Sooooooo, it's good bye times.
I am leaving my current place of residence (see how posh I can speak? Am movin'on dja'mean matey? Ok that was absolutely crap, fair enough). I am going to Osaka five days, where I will enjoy not getting up at 5.50 and just, walk around, check a museum or two, give a ridiculous amount of money to Mr Starbucks (I know but I'm already going to hell) and read epistolary novel (the latter being what I do best).
Then I go to Kyuushuu because there's a woofing place that looks nice and I will never ever again have to deal with one meter of snow blocking my front door (she says while holding her hands up in a prayer to the god of sunshine-pleasepleaseprettyplease).

Instead of wrapping up bursary applications for Giving Peace Faces and preparing my backpack,
I ponder at my boss making Sauerkraut :

(nan mais le mec, il aime faire sa propre choucroute, tu vas pas le lui reprocher non?),
wonder how I will make it to my next destination after Japan,
and write about tea (my last explore tea is Darjeeling, and how it makes me want to die inside):

Anne and I have been writing letters to each other for 11 years. Sometime we talk crap, too, don't worry.
Tu la vois arriver celle-la, Anne? Bon, une trentaine de pages, ca vaaaaaaaa...

Anyways.
My last wednesday (yesterday) meant a lunch with the people I worked with at Cafeina, running around to buy bread milk and bananas, like every single day of my life (how many litters of banana and pieces of milk do kids need?), my last chance to see Emi-san who teaches Japanese when she's not beating the hell out of me at badbington, AND... my last ping-pong (takkyu - 卓球）session.
That's when something strange happened.

Instead of being my usual self (insert [in]appropriate adjective here), I decided to be polite and not eaten up by shyness (shy, in Japanese, is hazukashi, isn't it a nice word?). So I told the club president 'hey it's my last night, thank you for everything!!! Ba-byyyyyeeeee' as I was leaving.
So he gave me a badge, with a little protecting god, but not any protecting god, the protecting god of curling. Seriously. Curling being the most strange and uncalled for sport EVER invented on earth (ok, I don't know, I haven't done my research, you can tell me if there is another really weird sport but beating that one won't be easy).
Ok you won't believe me so I am taking a picture right now. Here:

Curling God. カーリング　かみ。
believe me NOW?

You thought that was the hyper-duper-japanese thing to happen, on top of being a little surreal?
Well well my dear. Nope.

Nope...: they all gathered to clap hands in a musical-protection-blessing-farewell-be-happy-go-lucky demonstration. Well, that's what I am assuming it was, as I have not the slightest idea of why they did this and what it actually was, but it did make me feel happy.
I will research it once I have thirty seconds to myself.
I recorded it. Yes I did. It is below.

Ps: Yes, I look like a teenager boy and my hair makes me look like a baby chicken and I am taller than anyone in the room despite bending my knees as much as I could while avoiding looking ridiculous and I am redder than my t-shirt. Now you know that I know, so don't feel like you have to comment on it.

Emi san and I. Emi san wanted a hug when I left. I have never been asked for a hug ever by a Japanese person.
I think Emi might not be completely Japanese.

Ok, here is the video... Ready?

Wednesday, 10 September 2014

August in Japan. And loads of sushis. And clouds. And a lot of road. And a dad.

Wednesday, 25 June 2014

June

Sunday, 30 March 2014

Kurima Island Video

Avec, en bonus ce mois-ci, des toilettes avec television, des poissons clowns, un ours qui fait du chamisen.
With, this month only, extras including tv in public toilets, a teddy-bear playing shamisen, and clownfishes.

Voila.

Sunday, 16 March 2014

Marching March

SO today, I woke up and started reading my book and discovered George Orwell was huh...how to put it... a big racist fu*k?
I tell you, the first words you want to read in the morning seldom are :

'Fear of the mob is a superstitious fear. It is based on the idea that there is some mysterious, fundamental difference between rich and poor,

as though they were two different races, like Negroes and white men.'

Down and Out in Paris and London, George Orwell

I am a little bit baffled that there is no preface or afterword... this is a well respected author that most students will read with 1984 or Animal Farm (Hello? Anybody out there that bought another book from an author they enjoyed?). And there's just nothing to say anything about either the vocabulary used nor the bluntly racists views held in it. Wow. Ok. WHAAAATTTT???
The 'n word' had been used in the book before, but I thought 'hhhmm, written in 1933, ok, maybe,...'. I haven't finished the book nor looked at any article on it, especially at how I am guessing he was just totally focussing on one battle (the social classes one) and absolutely oblivious to anything else going on, but I will finish and read about it, though it made me feel a little sick to read that half awake.

But anyways, yesterday I had a small chat with pickachu so I was in a good mood. I went to dance on the mountain (I did, see the video below), fell asleep in the sun (yes! this is how warm it got, and how tired I am), and totally got put in my place (not) by the family's grand-ma, who doesn't know what an au-pair is and used to be a servant (I won't even go there).