(no subject)

[akujunkan]

Signs point to Whoops

The Japanese have a tradition called o-miyage. Basically, this invovles bringing back small gifts for everyone breathing person within a fifty mile radius every time you take a vacation, go on a business trip, or buy laundry detergent at a new combini. I used to despise omiyage - giving gifts on non-mutual occassions is an area of life where I've always felt awkward and socially inept.

But this time, I sort of enjoyed it. For instance, the people in my Wednesday 英会話 have been absolute dolls to me. I've received traditional Japanese candy, matsuri food, fresh vegetables, and on one occassion, dinner, from them. So I was looking forward to bringing them something back.

I selected red ginseng candy, because that stuff is The Shit. I'd go through a couple bags of it a month Stateside, until the Korean grocery I frequented started stocking macha candy, at which point there was no contest between the two. Now, however, I could swim in macha candy if I so desired, and ginseng is not the cheapest of commodities in Nippon. So I was quite pleased with myself for having snagged several bags of it.

Cut to the night of the 英会話. Only two people show up, but I decide to hand out the candy to them then and there, so it doesn't look like I went and bought it after the fact.

They're a little boggled. Well, that's normal. Japanese have freaked out when I've brought candy canes back, so I patiently explained what it was, only to be told that it tastes like medicine.

I'm a little crestfallen, although I try not to let it show. "No," I tell them, it's actually quite good. I ate it all the time back home."

Now they're shooting me funny looks, but they rally and pop a piece each into their mouths.

"It's 漢方 medicine," they tell me. We search 漢方　in our electronic dictionaries, though I already have a good idea what it is.

I am correct - Chinese medicine. I use this as a springboard for a discussion on herbalism, Ayurveda, alternative medicine and the like. The conversation winds up. We prepare to move on to other topics.

"It is medicine for men," Takada-san blurts out.

"Yes. Medicine for men do you know?" Endo-san elaborates.

A sneaking suspicion takes root in the back of my mind.

"Really?" I say.

"Yes," says Takada-san, unable to help himself. "Medicine for the old man."

It should be mentioned that Takada-san and Endo-san are about 49 and 57, respectively.

Oops.

"Yes," Endo-san says, and laughs, not unkindly. "It's for the old men."

I think about the implications of 'old man.' I think about the general shape of ginseng roots. I think about how European mandrake has a similar root-shape, and what that was used for, in Medieval herbalism.

Yes. Oops indeed. I'm not yet 100% sure, but that's only because I'm afraid to go and confirm my worst fears.

My consciousness is turning me into a vegetarian

I finally folded and got the Marushin card. I am now doing most of my shopping at this grocery-ish chain a few kilometres from my house, which does most of its business supplying restaurants with bulk food. (And if you think that any of the food you eat, even at upscale restaurants is prepared in house, think again.)

Anyway, their prices on meat and poultry are way better than anywhere else in town. But I still can't bring myself to buy meat there. As I said, Marushin supplies restaurants. All the meat is vacuum-packed in thick plastic and labled with very pragmatic names: beef slabs, pork carcass, hacked chicken. Which is essentially what it is, even if you're buying your steaks, hams, and boneless breasts at the supermarket, wrapped in saranwrap and artfully arranged on one of those styrofoam backs.

I just feel incredibly sorry for all the animals as I walk up and down the aisles staring at these massive freezer cases filled to the floor with vacuum-wrapped body parts. I like the taste of meat. A lot. (I was basically a vegetarian in the States, but if people ate yakiniku or yakitori over there, I wouldn't be.) Animals will die regardless of whether or not humans eat them. However, the utter coldness with which animals are raised and slaughtered, the conveyor belt treatment they receive throughout their lives, makes me incredibly sad when I'm confronted with it. If there was an independent butcher in town, I'd buy meat from them. And I still occassionally buy meat at the supermarket here, instead of Marushin, because I like the pretty falsehood that this bit of shabushabu didn't come from one of 900 cows slaughtered in one day, and that it wasn't fed dead pig and chicken bits before it was killed.

Maybe one of these days I'll give up meat entirely.

Apaato

I was thinking about it today, and aside from the washer and the windows that won't open, my new apartment is sweet. I really like it. An awful damn lot. I may (may) not try and switch to translator if it means having to move out.

Murder eyes

Heh-heh. Bet that cut tag made you look! Anyway, I managed to get one of the windows open, though the other is absolutely 100% soddered in place and will never open. There's a dental office catty-corner to this window.

When I open the window, a murder of crows flies over, roosts on the roof of the dental office, and watches me. It's the creepiest thing ever. If I shut the window they fly away. One or two keep an eye on me, however, and when I open the window they call the others over and they all sit there and check me out.

They're especially interested with the clacking of computer keys (they clack along) or the whistle and Irish flute.

But they do watch me ever so intently. Creepy, creepy, children.


That will be all.

Comments

[metal-dog5.livejournal.com]

"It is medicine for men," Takada-san blurts out.

I'm not laughing.

Really, I'm not.

Oh, who am I kidding? I'm laughing like a hyena ;^)

[akujunkan.livejournal.com]

Yeah, me too when I thought about it. Go figure. At least they had a funny story to tell their wives once they got back home. If the medicine hadn't taken effect, that is.