The Three Kings of Azuma Rikishi

( orange label ) Azuma Rikishi Brewery is famous for aged sake with its huge labyrinth of cave tunnels are perfect for sleeping sake undisturbed. It's rare for anyone to have a chance to tour these caves because most people don't know about them. Lucky for me, I had a chance to pick up a bottle , a Junmai Ginjo Shiboritate Nama.

Nihonshu-do: plus 1
100% Go-hyaku-mangoku
Seimaibui: 55%
( flavors: deep tones for a nama [unpasturized] Flavorsome).

The center bottle is from the same brewery, and it's a Hiyaoroshi this time. aJunmai Ginjo Nama Genshu type. Again, rare and local jizake types that deliver on taste every single time.

100% local grown Tochigi rice was used for this.
Seimaibuai: 60%

The last Azuma Rikishi is a Nigori NamaGenshu Kurakuchi.

Nihonshu-do: -10

The first sip is so thick and flavorsome on this one. I can't quit put my finger on it, really. The effervescence, the thick creaminess, the sourness and sweetness all combined. It's good.... In the picture I was lucky enough to have a ledge next to my hotel window. Everything was so serendipitous for me during my trip.

If ever in Tochigi Prefecture, and you have time, I highly recommend visiting this brewery, or at least sampling the sake produced at Azuma Rikishi. The true essense of Tochigi sake is here.

Other Tochigi related posts:
here, here, and here.

Shikanoyu

"in here, everybody is friends," one of the elderly gentleman said. There was an affinity between me and the old man. He used to golf around my area back in Torrance, so it was a coincidence seeing him there at this onsen, in Japan - small world.

Shikanoyu is an old and venerated hot spring, one that's frequented by people from all over Japan, namely elderly people. The building is maintained in its original form, all wood and bamboo enclosing, six large hot milky white hot springs, each with varying temperatures from 37 degrees centigrade ( 98.6 F ) to 48 degrees centigrade(118.4 F). The atmosphere was full of thick steam and sulfur. There were over 100 people shuffling about trying to squeeze into a tub here, and there. The water was excellent!

I moseyed along to the back trying not to be noticed… In back were the two hottest tubs; 46C~48C! There were four hot water specialist who were capable of sitting in the hottest tub for at least five minutes. I was truly impressed at this feat. I could see their skin turn a bright red as they would slowly climb out of the tub fully composed and dignified. I was humbled. They would continue this repetition ten times. One elderly gentleman sitting in the corner waiting for his turn had his eyes closed tightly from trying to recuperate his energy. I could see the wrinkles along both of his eyes and chin tense up, blood corpuscles showing through the sides of his head. I could see the bulging arteries in his neck starting to take form. A groan here and there and steam all around created a mystical ancient world of old souls enjoying the oldest form of respite.

I sat in the 46C tub and boy was that hot. When I could take no more, I slowly got out of the tub and sat back against the wall, steam vapors coming off my skin. I was in the company of seasoned soakers. A sense of quiet dignity that I had never experienced before came over me. The conviviality was still there, but time froze for me. I was absorbed into their cult of onsen. As I was sitting against the wall almost shoulder to shoulder with a dozen elderly, we sat and watched the onsen master walk along the edges of the two hot tubs checking for water temperature. There was some sort of bond there between us and the hot spring master. He would manipulate the water pipes that fed both of our tubs in order to provide better water distribution.

The best time to visit here is in winter when the cold outside air mixes with the strong sulfur smells of the tubs. The pine, the hot cypress wood, the sulfur and iron all collaged together creating a sense of nostalgia that only winter can deliver on, especially at a rustic hot spring.

Gambrinus

New beginnings. We all have a beginning. Where did you begin? In less than 3 days there will be a new beginning for all of us when we ring in the new year, the best time of year. We let our hair down, throw caution to the wind, do things we wind up regretting the next day. My first taste of Japanese sake was a new beginning for me, and is partly what led me here to Japan. That first sip…That first kiss…That first whiff…. Hot sake lubricating the wheels of social interaction led me to explore and learn about how this god water was made. A matron taught me how to appreciate her own native cuisine by first teaching me how food, sake and her work well together.

Gambrinus, the patron saint of beer brewing and legendary king of Flanders, had a beginning from a matron. Like Gambrinus, my first taste of god came from a woman. In Gambrinus's case his was the mighty Isis, an Egyptian goddess, ideal mother and matriarch of nature and magic, and goddess of motherhood. Mines was the Japanese Jukujo, goddess of all beauty and motherhood, and essentially life itself.

Language and culture is transmitted by the tongue and the touch. As humans we learn not only through our senses, but our olfaction's as well. This is the purest way anyway. The brain response better to touch than words alone. But when words and touch are combined in synchronistic passion they yield the greatest results.

Gambrinus owes everything to Isis, his mother goddess. I owe everything I am today to the Japanese matron saint goddess. For them I am truly grateful. I have been reinvented three times. I was a hatchling laid by a Japanese super mom. I was nurtured and fed for years from the nectar of her sweet effervescence. Her energy absorbed and redefined my mortal coil. I was pushed through to the other side.

Dante had lost his guide Virgil on his ascension out of hell simply because Virgil was eternally condemned to the pit, yet Dante in flesh form could make it out unscathed? It was Beatrice's love that sustained Dante's painful rise out that dark and horrid abyss.

A new beginning.

Kanreki Obasaan

The 12-animal Chinese Zodiac, each person is born under one of 5 elemental signs (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water). These two cycles reset every 60 years so a person is said to be starting their 2nd cycle (childhood). In Japan, men (and these days women) wear a red hat and red vest as part of the kanreki celebration. Red is a color most often associated with children. In ancient times, when life expectancies were much shorter, living to 60 was no small feat and those in their 60's often required some sort of geriatric care and were indeed like children in that they needed to be cared for. Unfortunately, in spite of the literal meaning of Kanreki, it is a term that's often always associated with senectitude and senility.

Fast forward to the 21st Century and the "Kanreki" tradition still continues on unabated, thanks in part to modern medicine, which has contributed to longer life spans and the preservation of beauty and health. I'm sure we can all appreciate the repetition and continuity provided by tradition, I do, and that's one of the reasons why I love Japan so much. Is there really a rebirth, or a second beginning? A return to childhood? I would like to believe so, after all, I am the quintessential Japanese momma's boy geek. Two weeks ago I met two grandmothers around my area, both are widowed. One is 62, and the other is 58. The first lady is a janitor, and the other one is a beautician. The beautician I met at Doutors was genteel and well spoken whereas the the janitor was more urbane and prim.

My usual flirtatious glance can be unnerving sometimes, especially at a bus stop around noon. One of my favorite bus stop grannies(janitor) was waiting on bus #156, and I was waiting on bus #113. I was surprised to see her there. I haven't seen her in ages. Upon my initial inspection she's quite reserved, hoity-toity, and soft spoken, other times she's brief, but I always manage to force a smile on her stoic face. The most we've ever talk about was the weather, nothing more. This time around, her bus arrived first so I boarded her bus this time. She sat in the back and I sat in the front behind the bus driver. I would steal glances back at her from time to time thinking she must feel really weird having some big black jumbo baby looking back at her. I was attracted at how well she was preserved for her age. Her skin still glowed, she was still shapely and relatively attractive. No noticeable crows feet or saggy chin.

We got off at the same stop and as I was exiting the bus from behind her she opened up a large sun umbrella, can't exactly remember the patterns on the umbrella. Your typical elegant butterfly print, or some plain color, I think. Thinking that this was her way of brushing me off, she shares the umbrella with me by placing it squarely over my head and talking directly to me. My olfaction's were heighten by her perfume and that sense of numbness to time and your surroundings when placed in a situation you are clearly not prepared for.

As we walked together to the escalator I stammered over what language to speak in, English or Japanese? So I spoke both out of nervous desperation to find the right words to say. She smiled and spoke to me in very easy to understand Japanese. Through the agedness of her voice I could get a sense of her soul and the essence of her purity mixed in together with her naughtiness. Once we got on the escalator going up, I stood behind her so that she could have the high position and me the low one. I shot straight to the point! "I like you and I think you are cute, and I want to be friends with you," were the first words out of my mouth. I thought what I said came out quite stupidly and prematurely. She retorted," friends only?" "Do you know how old I am? I'm a kanreki obasaan. I'm in my sixties," she said. The highest I have ever gone up in age with a woman was about 55 years old, but 62!?

Exiting the escalator she offered to be my mother! Her words were clear. " Only friends? I can be your mother and more," is exactly what she said. I took that as a green light to make immediate plans to meet her again, but I bungled it because I gave her the wrong time for our first date, so now I am left with leaving my house extra early to the bus stop to try to catch her, so far no success.

Could Kanreki Obasaan big the next big sex boom in Japan? I think so...The future of Japan is clearly in the hands of the aged, not the young. As more baby boomers retire, or die from overwork, more and more aged women are taking control of their lives and finding newer forms of expressing themselves. When you walk into an adult video store, it's evident that trends are changing. Older actresses are growing in demand and more younger Japanese men are aiming towards older and more mature women as sex partners. The christmas cake face Japanese girl types are fading out slowly, which is good.

Eugeni(fy) Me

(photo credits go to dilbit)

I should be 186cm tall; slender; have striking good looks; have a 12 inch penis; great job/career; friends. All the signs of a winner.

The lady should have a great smile; lots of friends; 170cm tall; skinny; lots of hobbies; loves her mom and dad; attends church; she sings; she's athletic;she's passionate in and out of bed; she loves kids. When she was in high school she was the prom queen. A G-spot squirter; a Japanese with a healthy appreciation of culture and language.

("As long as both sexes have the desired qualities then a perfect match made heaven with a perfect half baby as a gift from the gods").

Amazing. Does life really imitate art? Rarely, I suppose. I wonder if there's a contradiction in all of this, though. Is there really a ladder that one must climb in order to attain this ideal of success?

Here are my observations from my warm weathered bench: Tall lanky successful white man with a painfully average looking anorexic eyesore for a Japanese girl with no obvious signs of any cleavage whatsoever; she'll be warming bottles every morning for sure after the child is born. Not one single charming aspect about his pick, yet he feels he has achieved something by scoring a Japanese girl who was probably his student at one time. I have seen this time and time again in all the years I have lived in Japan. I have many benches, and from my bench, and even high a top my perch sometimes looking down at others, my eyes have come across thousands of couples ambulating here and there, hither and thither,in search of nothing, just two people with idle minds recycling the same dead topics from yesterday, and the day before, and the week before, and the month before….. The brothers are no different, they get the ghettofab types, although lately I have seen some modest improvements in their choices.

All the bellyaching and moaning I hear from these discontented saps is disheartening. (" Now that I'm married I can't do this, and I can't do that!"). (" I have to ask my wife permission for every single little thing. I have to sit down when I pee, I can't eat whatever I want because I'm gonna get fat"). Of all the lameness that these men endure for such little in return and from such rejects is truly sad.

I wonder about Daryn and Mike sometimes. How could they go from making 500,000 yen a month to nothing? Both of these guys married lemons and gave up lucrative careers in order to return to their home countries with baskets full of lemons, with not even enough juice between either wife to squeeze barely even a single micro- drop of lemonade. These grown men had to move back into their parents home with a wife! I don't understand what this kind of sacrifice means, or whether it could be classified as a sacrifice. I call it a rip off!

My "J" mom always asks me why I never make a solid effort to get young Japanese girls. I always answer, " because there's never an even compromise between us. On one hand, Japanese girls like slender guys, and I am not slender. On the other hand, I don't like skinny girls who have no ass and legs"). If the Japanese girl can apply a standard to how she wants her man to look, then the man should also apply a standard to how he wants his Japanese girl to look. J girls just don't see it that way, and so most henpecked white guy accept whatever they can get.

To this day my "J" mom is built very well; large breast, large thighs, big nipples, fair smooth skin, no tattoos, toned and heavy. Not some tiny little fold up, strum a tune on her rib cage, wife you stick in your wallet, or some " two spoons" and I have had enough to eat, or I don't like nihonshu because my taste buds are too unrefined to appreciate my own national drink, or I'm allergic to butter because I'm too stupid to recognize a basic food component in many cuisines, or I don't visit Yasukuni because China told me not to, or I wanna go to America because Japan is a dirty country! " Brain dead" is the final diagnosis for many young Japanese girls.

Like hell I'm gonna even try to walk away from the Jukujo.

If I had to design my own Jgirl then she would never be younger than me. She would be my senior. My "J" mom spent years playing volleyball that's why her legs are so thick and well toned. Everything I want in a J woman is modeled after my "J" mom. She has a long history in the Arts, including Judo, Ikebana, and painting. A healthy appreciation for Western culture, but not too much where she hates her own national pastimes, traditions, and customs. Loves to eat, loves to drink good nihonshu, loves onsen, loves temples and shrines, love sex and good sleep.

It's a commonly held belief amongst Westerners that "J" girls are easy, it's basically true, even for the not so handsome, and not so slender types. Some of my greatest and fondest memories with even young girls in Japan came via Mr. Donuts, Starbucks, and bus stops! Trust me on this one, so I am not short on titillating tales and exploits.

So in the end of all this hue and cry, is there a magic formula for getting the ideal J woman? Hell no! Although, having a career could get your foot in the door, but in no way shape or fashion will that bring about the " real deal" so to speak. Marrying an airhead is easy, finding a real woman is more difficult. The rules rarely ever apply in Japan. Timing usually trumps superficial encounters. Does is matter if you are fat? I think it depends on your attitude and self confidence more so than how fat you are. I have seen a lot of fat foreigners with Jgirls in my time here, lots!

Year End Kickoff

Around nine I was coming out of a strange high kick fantasy when the sun had shone brilliantly through my windows. The gradation was a dazzling mix of gold and yellow, then finally bright yellow that permeated through the thin folds of my eyelids. And then as I was rolling over on my left side, trying to hold on to the last images of that wet dream, I heard a familiar faint cry of pleasure mixed with pain.  It had to be my Chinese neighbors, I said to myself.  For them it only takes 5 minutes to do the "do," so no sleep was lost on my part, I had a peaceful morning. Around noon I knew I would reward them back with some real rumpus after mom swung by.

Rolling back over on my back, I rubbed the smoothness of my paunch, thoughts of what to eat for breakfast shuffled through my mind. I was hungry and I wanted something heavy, but my bed was so comfortable I couldn't pull up.  Just five more minutes I thought to myself. Since I had a gig that morning I thought I could swing over by the local eatery to grab a grilled steak platter combo with chicken and rice. I did, and it was good, as usual. Come rain sleet or shine, the food in Japan is good all the time, I shake my head.

On a cultural note, I was pondering over my steak combo what to do for the holidays. I usual put off traveling until around Feb. when things calm down. 2011 is looking to be a local one for me, again. I'll focus on the cultural aspects this time, too. This year I will do "Oseibo" or year-end gift-giving. Japan has two major gift giving seasons, Oseibo and Ochugen( mid-summer gift giving). The last time I did an Oseibo was back in 2008. I was a member of an English/Japanese speaking circle in Tokyo for a short time. I gave out several bars of Ghana chocolate to everyone in the circle, which took everyone by surprise. They didn't expect I would know about such a custom. Maybe it was the type of gift I gave….( they were 105 yen per bar). According to the custom, the price tag determines the level of the relationship; most expensive would usually go to your boss.

In China there's a custom where you keep the price tag on the product you purchased as a gift. This shows the receiver how much he/she is liked by the giver. Of course in Western countries we remove the price tag as a manner. Well, I forgot to remove the tags on my candy bars. Nobody made a stink about it, just the usual Japanese smile and "arigato."

This Christmas I won't do anything special, but work. Work is always special. I love work. Billy called from Alaska asking whether the Japanese celebrate Xmas or not. I answered, "no!" "why?" he asked. "Japan was never founded on Christian principles and Western religious fundamentalism, that's why," I answered back. This is Asia!  But, I continued, Japan is no longer her former self, she is a prostitute for America.   Now, we can officially say, Christmas is a part of Japanese culture.   Now, we have Japanese Santas who dress up in the red costumes and run around with gifts.    This is Asia.  Now....Oh, boy!  What's next????   

Protecting the Weak/Preserving Tradition

(photo credits go to Dilbit)

She was only trying to extricate his flimsy lifeless soul once again from falling into that abyss of self loathing and pity, if only resurrecting his soul back to the banality of his meager existence that night was enough, enough to make him even just half a man, even this would surely be enough for her to continue loving him. Something about cheap booze that makes you hit rock bottom sometimes, and then having to maintain some semblance of sobriety while trying to save face at the same time, especially in the company of non-Japanese. His better half shook him, and straightened his face. She supported his back so that he would stand upright. I admired this quality in his girlfriend. She was protecting his image.

I could, from the watery glassiness of his eyes and weakened neck, see his own broken soul glaring back at me from a distance. His own rage shrouded under the veneer of his overly obsequious behavior as he smiled towards us. Shortly afterwards, I was greeted by that same nervous smile, a nod, and a sweaty limp palm handshake while all the long his better half was orchestrating and cueing his every move whispering to him in his ear what to say. From the looks of him, I thought he was unemployed, and that maybe they both had some loose ties with the Gokudo, or some other group.

("The tradition of tattooing in Japanese is called "Irezumi" and has nothing to do with the Yakuza, at all. The art of tattooing can be traced as far back as the Jomon period, or about 10,000 years ago! It was after the Meiji era that it was outlawed and became analogous with people associated with the mafia. Later the tattoo ban was repealed by GHQ").

I remember that night when all of this took place. It was in December a few years back when I had attended a sake tasting party with a friend in Tokyo. At one table, you had Japanese, at another table you had Americans, and at the middle table you had your Asians. I guess people naturally gravitate towards the people they feel most comfortable around. At the Japanese table there were an assorted mix of drinks; cocktails, sake, shochu. I never mix alcohol personally. At the geeky all white table everybody drank straight Japanese sake, including me. We were all acting a little pretentious that night. Each of us with our own sake lore, spouting off fancy terms in Japanese and knowing full well that neither of us would be able to recognize hardly any of the kanji associated with "said" sake beverage. This spectacle of ignorance provided the most entertainment for the Japanese group. You could hear them snickering and laughing at how big a stupid we all looked trying to outclass the Japanese at their own national drink. And then, I motioned over to one of the girls to come sit next to me. She obliged and came over, but for her boyfriend this was crushing. The fact that I could motion to the guys girlfriend to sit next to me, a total stranger and a foreigner to boot. This enraged the other girl who was trying to help her lifeless boyfriend save face. She motioned to her with flailing hands to return to her boyfriends side at once.

As the night progressed, things started to wind down a bit, everybody recuperated themselves and then finally gathering their belongings headed to the exit, party was over. The lady I was with returned to her table in order to resuscitate her boyfriends shattered ego. I gathered my things and as I was heading out the door shook his cold sweaty limp palm. Ohh, how Japanese men owe a debt of gratitude to their better halves. They get so little in return for putting up with so much man(lessness).

There's just something about a Japanese woman who accepts the lesser role in order to support her own man that's intriguing to me, even though she doesn't have to, she has more choices than her mother. It is a commonly held stereotype that Western men tend to nurture and pamper their women - henpecked types. Open doors, come at their every beck - n - call whereas their Japanese male counterparts do just the opposites. This Western treatment ruins Japanese women in a sense because it makes it harder for them to readjust to a Japanese man if things don't work out in their marriage with a foreigner. Treating foreign spouses better doesn't always mean marriages last. Just because a foreigner takes a Japanese wife and treats her like a little princess doesn't guarantee a happy marriage, in fact more of these types of marriages end in divorce or separation, even worse the wife steals the baby. That's for another discussion.

The traditional Japanese wife who has held the position as second class to her man or husband is by far the most courageous and noble person. Why...? Because once again she doesn't have to accept that role, yet she chooses to accept this role anyway because this is tradition, and not all traditions have to change according to the times. Many Japanese women are happily married and have no problem supporting their husband/boyfriend from a lesser capacity. Japan does not have to shed all of its traditions because of a growing minority of discontented Japanese housewives/boyfriends, or what have you. I admit, tradition is not for the faint or weak at heart, it's tough, and there are few rewards for those who accept that role in life. But I guess that's why it's called tradition. For many Japanese upholding tradition is quintessentially the Japanese thing to do. Being Japanese is a duty sometimes I think, and not so much a nationality.

According to the wise and the sapient, they teach us that all life is about suffering, and that the only way to escape that suffering is by detaching oneself from the triggers that cause emotional stress. Some may call this "taking the middle ground. " And all though I'm sure they mean well, I don't encourage escapism. In order for life to progress all elements of pain, suffering, and beauty must be reconciled and harmonized. Science and religion must be reconciled; life & death must be reconciled; natural & spiritual elements must be reconciled. Japan cannot escape tradition, much like the sun whose rays pierce the pitch blackness of uncertainty and doubt Japan as we know it today is and will always have the underpinnings of tradition as its foundation, and that without it there can be no reconciliation from within to the things which have made this country so great.

Solar Sailer

Theme music for this post: Solar Sailer by Daft Punk ( photo credits go to Tsushin).

Not sure if it's her own warmth, the temps are unusually high this winter. One more extra day without having to wrestle with that god awful heavy wool sweater. Hard dead animal hair grazing over her soft tenderness. She was comfortable enough in her own skin that day, without having to drape her body in death. Instead, she wore silk.

That morning, not even the bitter prickly coldness of mother nature's icy glass tits could break the warm sweet silence that was in her midst. Brilliant orbs in golden hues descending down in radiant splendor, enveloping her whole being(ness).

Thick hot pockets of steam; lanky long and elegance rising out of that hot liquid mineral richness. Bath time only opened up another portal of sensuality, a still moment in timeless beauty, for what seemed like an eternity.

I wonder what she'll wear on her skin today to the supermarket? I can't help but think "tresor."

Winter Treats: Sweet Mochi Soup

When it gets cold around Japan, one of the most popular Japanese treats I love to eat is called, in Japanese, "shiru-ko" a hot azuki bean soup served two different ways, pulpy or smooth. Azuki is a legume that originated in the Himalayas over a 1000 years ago and has made its way all over asia until it reached Japan.

The smooth, or pureed version, has a mochi(sticky) rice cake in it. This version for me is the best because you don't have to spoon it out; you can just drink it from the bowl. For those who've never tried this, it's sweet. I love how it coats the mouth and palate. In between slurps I sip down some green tea and eat a fermented pickle in order to give the whole thing a nice balance between sweet, bitter, and sour flavor profiles.

Here in Japan, shiroku can be purchased from vending machines for as little as 100 yen. However, if you want the real authentic home taste then I can recommend a fantastic restaurant in Kamakura, Yokohama called in Japanese (Nango-shiru-koten). This is by far the oldest and most traditional restaurant for making the best sweet mochi soup. Most of the patrons are up in age, so you know it's a local favorite. The service is warm and excellent. Plenty of old decor and well maintained, clean, nostalgic.

Surfing in December in Japan

Tokyo-To, Saitama, Kanagawa, Chiba, Gunma , and Tochigi Prefectures all make up a large portion of a region of Japan called Kanto.   From every cardinal direction, the proximity of lakes,rivers,oceans, and cities are within reach. If we were to choose a centrally located city like Tokyo for example, a 2 hour commute by car or by train in any direction could easily take you to a natural hot spring, a pristine garden-park, a temple, a shrine, and even wetlands and marshes. How about surfing?


Around December many Japanese typically enjoy snowboarding, skiing, and snow trekking. Here in Japan, surfing is enjoyed year round, even during typhoon season. Luckily for those of us who live in the Kanto region we can enjoy a little bit of everything without ever having to leave this region. Surfing seems to be gaining in popularity, lately.   Even on chilly December mornings you can see surfers out hitting the waves, sometimes as early as 4:30am.   I'm a SoCal transplant, so waking up at 4:30am for surfing in December is far from strange, but in Japan...? All I can say is cool(ness).


Where are good places to surf? There're quite a few places, but if I had to choose one place then it would be Choshi in Chiba Prefecture, specifically Kashiwa Beach and Iioka Beach. The nice thing about these two beaches are the air currents. If you are surfing at Ioka you get strong southerly winds from the south Pacific Ocean, from the north you get the icy cold arctic winds, plus a nice push from wind gusts out of west Japan. All of these elements combined with how sea currents move create exciting waves patterns in the ocean. I was surprised to find on the map below a place called Malibu Beach which reminds me of another beach in Los Angeles with the same name. The world can thank the Polynesians for surfing, I think. Some adaptations in Japan are good, especially if they originate from anywhere else other than the West. On a side note, seafood in Choshi or Choushi is very good.


I highly recommend the kinmedai when it's in season.

Bo-nen-kai

As mentioned in previous postings; Japanese sake lubricates the wheels of social interaction. Around this time of year companies in Japan have after-hours drinking parties where co-workers binge on alcohol with their supervisors, or with friends. This type of gathering is sometimes referred to as " forget the year gathering." I personally no longer attend such gatherings unless nihonshu is on the menu. If I'm going to further damage my liver, then let me drink the good stuff, at least.

Some salarymen dread this awful get together, and would much rather be with real friends or with family than co-workers. One acquaintance of mine told me that one big reason he hates these get-togethers is because he has to perform something in Japanese called "goma-suri" ( sesame grinding), the literal meaning would be something like brown nosing or kissing ass in English whereby the junior salarymen would have to pour sake for the seniors and be little errand boys, sometimes until 3a.m., and then be expected to wake up at 5am for work a few hours later.

In my years of visiting onsen(s) around Japan I have witnessed and have even taken part in these types of drinking parties. If you are lodging at an onsen ryoukan(traditional Japanese hotel), then these parties are nice because you know you can just crash on the tatami and not worry about catching a train or waking up for work the next day.

Inhibitions at these parties are also lower. I love drinking with Japanese women at these get-togethers. Just be natural, let the sake flow, and let nature take its course.

Gentlewomanliness

Winter arriveth, and with it brings another form of beauty frozen in timeless splendor. Icebound cascades, snowcapped peaks, steamy mineral rich hot springs, snow clad pines and cypress trees are what come to my mind when I think of winter. The beautiful winter brocade adorning that gentlewoman's long flowing kimono, evoke in me a sense of wonder and appreciation for Japan's rich cultural heritage.

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For years I've been attempting to collect a type of prosopography of Japanese women. A lot of us guys do it; we try to find reason why "J" women are this way and that way. We deduce things down using our own pimp-ology and stuff like that. What's her background, how she looks, and why she behaves a certain way. But I think what we all find in the end, is that women are just women. What it really comes down to is choosing who you'd be willing to sacrifice your life for on the alter of work.

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I'm not that easily convinced that I can walk away from the pain that tugs at my heart for the Jukujo bijin, though. I know guys who have. You just simply switch likes and preferences, right? Me!? no. I think I am doomed. But I guess that's shallowness, and being inflexible to new things.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// The four seasons representing change are all beautiful, aren't they? Even I can concede to that, but I am not sure I can apply that to other areas of my life. Somethings should never change.

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Frozen in agelessness.