Ramblings from Japan...

ON THE FLIGHT OVER...

My “entertainment” selections for the 12-hour flight from Chicago to Tokyo: The Spiderwick Chronicles, Definitely Maybe, The Bucket List, Mad Money, Shine a Light and The Other Boleyn Girl. Let’s just say I read. A lot.

Boingo’s airport signal strength (both in Chicago and Tokyo) is equivalent to me trying to do bench press reps at the NFL combine.

What the heck did people do to kill time waiting to board before the iPhone? Currently going through email, SMS, Twitter, Facebook and Bejeweled withdrawl.

Did you know Cup o’ Noodles qualifies as a “meal” on United Airlines’ long-haul flights. Me neither.

ON FAMILY...

Upon seeing pictures of my fiancée, my second cousin Reiko remarked, “She has a nice bust!” Normally, I’d chalk that up to as a “lost in translation moment,” but she repeated it several times.

My great aunt Yoko (who’s hosting us while we’re in Tokyo) has a fat toy Chihuahua who’s terrified of me. It’s like a hairy, freaked-out football and I want to kick it.

Grandma, in addition to slipping right back into her native language and culture, also started slipping out of her clothes. Apparently, pants are optional if you’re 70-plus. Thank goodness she wears huge cotton briefs.

You haven’t been entertained until you’ve watched two technologically ignorant septuagenarians spend eight minutes yelling at each other and jabbing fingers at a ticket machine in confusion. All they had to do was push the “English” button in the corner, told me which station we needed to go to, and we’d have been off in 30 seconds. But, no…

ON TELEVISION...

They have Aflac commercials here and they use a duck, but not Gilbert Godfried’s voice. It’s kinda weird. And the duck has one feather sticking up on the top of its head, too. I thought you should know.

Also, Akinori Iwamura (the 2nd baseman for the Tampa Bay Rays) hit a home run today and it made it into the news block, not just sports. They love them some Japanese ballplayers over here, even if they’re playing in Tampa.

Japanese ping-pong players get endorsement deals from the Asian version of Gatorade. It’s like watching Forrest Gump, only lamer.

The Colonel is still the spokeslogo for KFC. Only he looks a little Japanese... that could just be the late-night sushi talking, though.

I’ve seen maybe six other Caucasian people in a week here (discounting the tourists at the airport), yet 25% of Japanese advertisements feature blonde-and-blue-eyed Abercrombie-esque models. It’s strangely disconcerting.

ON JAPAN...

I am taller than every women I’ve seen and at least 2/3rds of the men. I’m 5’8” on an extremely good day with reduced gravity. This rocks.

I wear flip-flops, which confuses Yoko to no end. You see, to her (and every Japanese person over 50), flip-flops are indoor house shoes. It’s proper to cover your feet when you’re outdoors. We’ve compromised, though: she stops pestering me to wear sneakers and I just have to wipe my feet with a washcloth for five minutes before I come into her house.

The Japanese society is one that revolves around the clock and punctuality. Trains arrive the instant they’re supposed to (not a minute sooner), people meet you exactly when they say they will and a dinner reservation for 6 p.m. actually means dinner is set for six. But, when the Nagels arrive, they make history - for the first time ever, a bus was delayed. Why? Because our cousin had to stand in front of it for 10 minutes, while my grandma and great aunt teamed up to get us lost and make us late. Ever been glared at by two-dozen angry retirees while you’re trying to find a seat on the bus? It’s not fun.

Having a shaved head apparently makes you a Yakuza (Japanese mafia). So not only am I taller than everyone, but people are terrified of me. Although, I don’t know if it’s the hair or the flip-flops that’s setting them off…

Ask for mizu at restaurants and you get odd stares. Refill a water bottle at a bubbler and people point and laugh. Apparently, you’re not allowed to drink anything besides tea or Sapporo (which, incidentally, they serve at breakfast).

Bidets – surprisingly powerful and well-aimed.

My virgin effort...

The audio and editing suck, but it was my first try with the Flip and iMovie. At least it's somewhat coherent... and hopefully I'll figure out how to get a thumbnail image in there, too.

It's a start... enjoy!

Also, here's the link to my YouTube account.

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I've done my packing, now it's Grandma's turn

I'm going to post a Japan itinerary (I leave in four days). But frankly that's about as exciting to read as a calendar, because, well... you are reading a calendar. So before I get to some mind-numbing list of dates and places, I thought I'd feed your Internet entertainment craving with a little peek into the mind of my grandmother.

For those of you that don't know, I'm traveling through Japan with my Grandmother (who is Japanese, was born there and moved to the States and became a citizen about 50 years ago), my mom (born on a military base in Japan) and my sister (like me, born in a hospital here - much less exciting). It's going to be a two-week jaunt through family history, meeting relatives, seeing the "homeland" and sharing rooms in ryokans.

Well, Grandma is quite the character. I love her to death, but she definitely has her quirks. One of them has to do with her luggage - or, rather, the items she wants to bring that can't fit into her suitcases. It's Japanese tradition to bring gifts when you visit. It's been a few years since Grandma's been back to her homeland, so she's loaded up on those... that seems sensible enough. The quirk she has about packing has to do with A) the type of gifts she's bringing and B) the seeming illogical assumption that famine has arrived in Japan and we will starve for two weeks. This has led to over-packing, which has led to me checking an extra bag just for her stuff.

Thank goodness I pack light.

Grandma's packing list:

1 faux Coach bag - She actually is bringing six of these. But she didn't want to have trouble with customs, so she gave me one. Apparently, she thinks that will make a difference.

1 set of Japanese flip-flops - because, you know, they're hard to find in Japan.

3 Red Sox t-shirts - this makes sense. Dice-K mania is huge; the relatives will love the shirts. I want a Seibu Lions jersey, myself.

3 Charles River Laboratories t-shirts - I don't think anyone's asking for the leftover swag from a company Grandma hasn't worked for in 5 years.

1 bottle, Centrum Silver - taking your vitamins is good. Taking 250 over a 16-day span is not.

2 family-sized packages, caesar croutons - we're visiting a friend Grandma has who likes salad. So we're bringing salad. Right.

24 tea packets - didn't they INVENT tea in Asia?

12 instant coffee packets - this makes sense. I can't live without coffee.

1 jar instant coffee - in light of above, not needed.

1 box, Pop Secret popcorn - not a clue as to her reasoning on this one.

1 box, SPANISH Pop Secret popcorn - Porque?!

2 packets, guacamole mix - "This way, if we find avacadoes, we can have chips at night."

6 pounds of Lindt chocolate - Either these are gifts, or G-ma has one heckuva sweet tooth.

1 bottle for salad dressing - Yes, we're bringing a mix-your-own dressing bottle. Just in case that awesome ginger salad dressing you get at sushi places has been sold out nationwide.

1 blue rubber bath mat - This is actually a gift for her sister. Hey, at least it's not socks.

8 granola bars - Great for flights. Except they'll be checked in the cargo hold.

2 pounds of whole grain spaghetti - This was actually a compromise. Grandma originally wanted to bring the pasta AND two jars of homemade sauce to Japan, but we talked her out of it. Although, it would've been easy to spot my suitcase at baggage claim - it would be the one leaking.

1 jar, brownish-orange, thick gel with pungent order - I don't know what it is. It's wrapped in a paper towel and then encased in bubble wrap. It smells, strong, of ginger. I think Grandma might have preserved some at home? At least, that's what I'll be telling the Homeland Security agents when they've dragged me off to a mirrored room after my stuff's been confisticated at check-in.

Viva la Vida or Death and All His Friends...

Come on now, let's not get our knickers into a twist and anoint Coldplay the World's Biggest Band and Chris Martin as a falsetto-singing, British world-savior. All the pop music magazines did that for X&Y, and we all know how well that turned out.

Thankfully, the press seems to have taken a vicodin or three and just chilled out, man. While the fourth full-length from our (current) favorite fab four finally hit shelves today, there has been much less buzz surrounding this one. I don't know if it's because we've realized that pumping something up too much only leads to abject disappointment (no, that was not a penis joke... entirely) or that anyone who names their kid "Apple" can't also be the second-coming of Ghandi. Instead of magazine spread after magazine spread of blah-blah-blah, we've had one single released online and another made into one of those wicked-cool iTunes ads. That's good enough for me.

Maybe the record label execs relaxed this time around, realizing that they're going to be swimming in royalties either way after yet another chart-topper. Or maybe the band just got fed up with answering the same questions at every interview. Who knows? But it just seems quieter this year. That's okay with me. Not every band has to pull a U2 when they drop another record.

Thanks to something I'll call "industry connections," I received a copy of the album (possibly illegally, so I won't say how to thus not incriminate any co-conspirators) last week. For anyone who likes Coldplay - either secretly or openly - you'll be happy to hear that this album is solid, track 1-13.

Throughout the wordily titled Viva la Vida or Death and All His Friends, Chris Martin's vocals take a backseat to the music. His voice, at times, falls to a whisper-level croon as the guitars rise and swell (this time, definitely not a penis joke) around him, making it hard to figure out exactly what he's saying. For me, the lyrics were always the best thing about Coldplay tracks, so it was surprising the band moved in that direction. I didn't like it at first, but after a couple listens, the effect grew on me.

It did so mostly because the music on this album is far catchier than on any of the band's others. The guys took a page from Radiohead's playbook and centered each track around a single riff, building and layering the guitars, drums, organs and piano throughout (with the occasional string section, steel guitar or middle-eastern lute thrown in for good measure). The result is a whole lot of theatrical buildup that gets you toe-tapping and head-bopping; the music keeps you listening for long enough to start to pick out Martin's words. And when you do, you find some gems:

Those who are dead, are not dead.
They're just living in my head.
And since I fell for that spell, I am living it, as well.
Time is so short and unsure, there must be something wrong...
You thought you might be a ghost
You didn't get to heaven, but you made it close.

If you're a fan of the band, definitely pick up the album. I won't say it's the year's best, but it's probably in my top-10 so far - and I don't see it dropping from there anytime soon. I give it a solid B+

Now if only I had scored tickets to one of the free shows in New York or London....

That's right, I'm packing...

Editors' note: I'm writing as a featured blogger for STATravlers.com - which is a social networking site dedicated exclusively to travelers. The site recently celebrated its first year anniversary and has been quite successful, so it's an honor for me to be a part of it.

During the course of my time at the Olympics, I'll be posting blogs on their site. I'll include links here, too, though so you can click through to the travel posts.

*****

I’m getting ready to leave on my next adventure. In ten days, I’ll be boarding a plane for trip halfway around the globe. Behind me, I’m leaving an apartment, bills, job obligations and (most importantly) a fiancee, friends and family and setting out for a 2 1/2 month long journey through Japan and China.

There are a ton of preparations for the trip. I need to make sure my banks know I’m going, bills have to be paid in advance, my car has to find another home for a while and someone has to water my plants (not that I do that enough, anyway, but it’d be good to have them not be entirely brown when I get back). This part of the trip sucks - it’s no fun thinking about logistics and budgets. The fun part is flipping through travel guides and reading trip blogs and finding the cool, out-of-the way places to visit or a funky hostel to sleep in.

The one tedious part of trip prep I actually enjoy is packing. I love pulling out my stuff, laying it all out and fitting it inside of my luggage. There’s a routine to it that starts to get my blood flowing as anticipation of travel ramps up. Plus, I always play The Beatles’ Come Together album. I don’t remember where that tradition started, but every time I hear it, it makes me think about heading out on the open road or through the nearest check-in gate.

While with each trip, my packing list changes, there are always a few standbys you’ll find in my bags... (follow the link HERE for the rest of the article)

The scariest moment of my life...

The first emotion is absolute shock:

I'm sitting in my chair, just staring at the computer screen. My mouth moves, but no sound comes out... I must look like a beached fish, gasping for oxygen. That's pretty much what I feel like - it's hard to draw a breath and the air moves raggedly through my throat, rattling slightly.

Followed by furious, burning anger:

Just then, my brain seems to catch up with my body. My fists clench involuntarily, fingernails digging into palms, as my whole body stiffens. It's a reaction to the fire that was lit in my belly. A soft matchstrike at first that quickly - nearly instantly - builds into a raging inferno. The heat shoots up my chest and consumes my head as my face turns a brilliant shade of scarlet.

Gasp. I gulp in a lungful of air and a profanity explodes out with the exhalation. It doesn't give me any sort of release, so I try it again - louder and clearer, slamming both fists down into the arms of my chair. The exclamations and pounding come faster, in rhythm and the furniture in the room shakes. No one can hear me, it's nearly midnight, as I vent my frustrations to the air.

Which gives way to quiet, pleading denial:

I sink back into the chair and cease shouting. The sides of my hands are sore from slamming into the wooden arms, but I'm not thinking about that at all. Now, I'm once again looking at the computer screen. This time, shaking my head slightly and muttering, "No, no, NO," over and over again. I re-start everything, hoping that something's changed, like a desperate patient reviewing test results... but nothing has. The results are the same. The file is empty.

Last, a sickening realization:

I just deleted my entire music collection. Thousands of dollars and years of accumulation gone in an instant. 8,500 songs, 100 videos, 75 gigs of data... wiped out. I sold my CD collection last year and can't get the songs back. There is no backup. I am screwed.

*****

Friends, I hope and pray that this never, ever happens to you. Perhaps I am way to (psychotically) attached to my music collection, but I felt like a large piece of me died that night. This thing that had always been a part of me. Full of favorite albums, rare tracks, defunct local bands, Internet-only downloads and live cuts, I'd babied it over the years. Like a gardener, I pruned back albums that I no longer listened to, added new areas to appreciate, maintained it when it got old and upgraded to digital. More than mere enjoyment, my music collection was a hobby, no, a passion.

And then, in an instant, it was gone. I was alone. It was terrifying.

It all happened when I tried to re-partition my external hard drive so I could set up Time Machine to backup my data. If you're not tech-savvy, don't worry - I didn't understand half of what I just wrote.

Basically, I have an external hard drive to hold my music collection (it's too big to fit on my laptop). Time Machine is a Mac program that automatically backs up your computer. So, if you delete something by accident or if everything crashes, you can recover all of your files - not too shabby, eh? I wanted to use half of the external hard drive to house my music collection and half to back up my computer. To do so, I had to divide it (or "partition"), which is kind of like drawing a virtual line through the thing.

When I partitioned it, the program said that it would not touch any information stored in the current section of the drive, which is where I had all my music. It would just separate out a new chunk of space for me to use. Simple enough.

Except some glitch occurred - I don't know what - and my entire hard drive erased itself.

Poof. Everything was gone.

*****

Ultimately, acceptance:

It was gone. All gone. There was nothing more I could do.

My laptop's internal fan whirred to a stop, both silence and darkness filled the room as it turned itself off. Slowly, I picked myself up from my chair. Now past midnight, it was time for bed. 90 minutes of denial, frustration and vain attempts to turn back time had failed. I'd started trying to calculate the costs of rebuilding my music library... hours spent transferring files from friends' computers, re-buying albums that I couldn't live without... but it was overwhelming. I could never get it back.

I gave up and went to sleep, which came surprisingly fast. Perhaps I'd exhausted myself with worry.

"Tomorrow's another day," I thought, just before I drifted off.

A happy ending:

Brian, my brother and resident Apple-expert, sent me a link to Senuti. It's a progam that's intended to back up your iPod. You can use it to unlock any iPod and transfer the music files, playlists and videos back to your computer. It's free (donations encouraged) and works extremely fast...

A little ray of hope burst through my sickening cloud of despair. Maybe, just maybe, the program would work like advertised. I quickly downloaded it, opened it up and clicked the "transfer" button.

You could not imagine my joy when I saw names of songs flashing through the list, each one announcing a successful copy from the iPod back to my iTunes library! I shouted out of happiness, "Whoohoo!" Pumped my fists and ran around my room in circles.

Really.

I'm a child. And I turn 25 next week.

12 hours of depressing loss led to 3 hours of joyful exuberance as the program took 60 gigs of music and videos and restored them to all of their organized glory. In the end, I recovered all of my music and only lost about half of my videos (all from seasons of Lost and The Office).

I don't know what the lesson is here... I'm sure there's one somewhere. Frankly, I'm still too much in shock to figure it out. For a day, I ran the complete gamut of emotions - loss, depression, denial and anger to disbelieving happiness and celebration. I feel like it's the 2004 Sox-Yankees playoff series all over again.

I love life!