About three weeks ago three Japanese people were taken hostage in Iraq. Video footage showed them being held at knifepoint by a roomfull of blindfolded 'terrorists'.

It was a rude awakening for a country that hasn't been involved in an international conflict since WWII, just recently joined the Iraq war, or 'restructuring' as it's called. Especially since Japan technically doesn't have an army. The terrorists demanded that in exchange for the hostages, Japan withdraw its troops from Iraq. The prime minister said 'no' and eventually the hostages were released.

What's hard to believe is the news story linked above, where the hostages are being treated not as heroes, as they would in the west, but as criminals who disobeyed authority and caused trouble for their country. They are being charged for the expense of return flights and medical bills, as well as smeared as terrorist and communist sympathisers. A high level government employee has said that the entire episode was staged, that the Japanese paid to be kidnapped in order to cause the withdrawal of troops. One newspaper article said that their stress level is considerably higher now than it was when they were being held at knifepoint.

I don't really know what my point is here, other than that Japanese is an extremely conservative society, bound to a ridiculous degree by the rules. This shows up in school, when students come to attention, military style, before every class. It shows in office workers who spend Golden Week - the only big paid holiday of the year - at the work. It shows up when talk turns to 'big oil' or 'war' or 'save the whales' or any other political topic, where an individual opinion might go against the grain. There isn't even any Japanese press in Iraq, for goodness sake! The second biggest economy in the world doesn't have one single media represantive in Iraq, except for the freelancers, who are branded terrorist sympathisers for being there. And they're trying to help build a democracy?

Anyway, this case of the Japanese hostages has been pretty interesting, and has showed me a thing or two about Japan. Sayonarra.

But not as much as this guy loves underwear.

I love ramen.

There are two ways to look at this. First: the government here is getting serious about English education; second: in five years the ALT position will become a full-time Internet surfing position, as opposed to the half-time Internet surfing positition it is now. Time will tell.

I have two adult "education" classes: The Broken English Club (BEC) and the 14th Annual Susaki International Association (SIA, currently in its third year). Tonight was SIA, owned and operated by the most-wonderful Hosogi-san.

Hosogi-san was the fourth person I met upon arriving in Japan. He was at the enkai that my work set up for me when I got into Susaki-shi. He stuck out for a couple of reasons. First, he looks an awful lot like Yoda from Starwars, all bald and wrinkled and drooling. Plus, he speaks just like Yoda, with the verb at the end of the sentence and everything else before it totally random. I couldn't understand a word he said. He seemed nice enough.

A few weeks later he came into the office with one of the ladies from the first enkai, and they took me to the fish market down by the harbour. There was every kind of fish you could imagine, gasping and flopping on the deck. The lady that was with us, Kaori-san, bumped into her brother and he gave her a fresh octopus. So on my third week in Japan I got to skin an octopus (an octopus is all skin, so you know - you peel it off the skeleton, which is actually the head) and eat it with mayonaise. It was somewhere in there that Hosogi-san invited me to join the SIA.

Our first meeting was on the beer gardens at the Susaki Prince Hotel, a surprisingly nice place for a concrete-and-fish place like Susaki. Together with Kaori-san and Shimasaki-san, a retired English teacher who "is so small because 'you Americans' starved 'us Japanese' during the war", we drank beer and talked English. Now, it's a ritual.

Usually, I get an email that goes something like this. "Jon-san! How are you. We are fine. We are fine. Next meeting Thursday at Oonogo Community Centre. Are you OK?" Usually I'm ok, so the meeting is on.

Every fourth time or so Shimasaki-san drinks too much and starts blaming me for the Americans. "You Americans are overweight, you eat too many cheeseburgers. We Japanese are very healthy. You Americans starved us, blah, blah, blah..." I smile and nod like a good foreigner, and he forgets what he was ranting about soon enough. Then it's back to laughing and eating.

Hosogi-san is especially hilarious. He's only studied English for two years and he's 60 now (his other hobby is morse code). He speaks it pretty good but some of the stuff that comes out of his mouth! I usually egg him on, though. Like tonight I was helping him practice up for his trip to America, and I got him to say "Do you have any sashimi?" and "I'll have a cheeseburger and fries please?" I suppose you had to be there.

Anyway, SIA is a lot of fun for the one Thursday a month I do it. Good night.

I am at work. bored. on a sunday. perhaps that it is why it is more boring. jon is out having the adventure of his life and i am sitting at my desk bored.

who decides to hold school on a sunday anyways? it is ridiculous if you ask me.

on a positive note, my floor has finally been changed from tatami to hardwood. it really matches the hardwood walls and compiments the log cabin decor. in all seriousness, it looks really good. hopefully i will be able to stop taking my medication.

Nancy and I joined another drum group, this one for the madaru (mahdal) and djembe, North Indian/Nepalese and African drums respectively.

We met our sensei through Ikeda-san, our translator at taiko. She told us about this little coffee shop in Togano called Third Eye, which sells great incense and good coffee (for Japan).

Nancy and I had noticed the shop before - on the drive from Sakawa to Susaki - and had always wanted to stop in, if only because Third Eye is based out of a traditional Japanese home. Outside: unfinished cedar siding and thick tiled roofing; inside: raised tatami rooms, deep wooden flooring, and a high, dark ceiling. Kind of like Chiiori house.

When we finally did drop by, it was the warmest place we'd found all winter. We stayed for a couple of hours doing Christmas cards, and had a short chat with owner. We returned a couple times, and found out about the madaru/djembe lessons. They invited us into the back room for a short practice session.

The madaru is a two-sided hand drum. One side has a high tone, the other side has a lower tone. You can make an open sound by hitting the drum as normal, a closed sound by covering the head as you hit it with your hand, an even bigger closed sound if you cover both heads at the same time, and a percussion sound if you whack the body of the drum.

The djembe is a one-sided hand drum. It has three basic sounds. Bass comes from hitting the middle of the head with your flattened hand, tenor comes from hitting the edge of the head with your fingers and a whack sound comes from slapping your hand onto the edge of the head. There are variations depending on how hard you hit the drum.

The really great part of this new lesson is that we get to sing, too. We are learning two Japanese folk songs and Stand by Me. It's tricky singing (especially in Japanese) and playing at the same time.

Even better is that there are actually living breathing young people taking the lesson. It's all guys except Nancy, and everyone is under 30. They all surf, too. So we might make some proper friends our own age (finally!), instead of the usual senior citizen "English conversation" groupies we normally hang out with.

Here's an overview of my work schedule for the past 28 days: 8:30 am arrive office; 8:31 am log on Internet; 12 pm log off internet, go home for lunch; 1 pm return office; 1:01 pm log on Internet; 4:15 pm log off Internet; 4:16 pm return home.

But no more! Tomorrow classes begin, so I'll be dodging kanchos from those crazy first graders. Whoo-hoo!

I tried to add some links to the sidebar, but the server kicked me off. So here, I'll just link to the best Japanese blogs.

Notice how the google ads at the top of our blog are for Bali now? I wonder what happens if I type in fart knocker? Or booger picker?

Oh God I'm bored.

Ok, this is my last Bali story.

After Padang Bai we made our way to Ubud, Bali's centre for cultural tourism. On the surface, it seemed more or less like Kuta: lobster-tanned tourists, hawkers, wild dogs and hot, hot heat. But Kuta is up in the mountains, surrounded by rice paddies and palm plantations. The hawkers weren't as cut throat, and they were selling better stuff. Sure, there was still a lot of one-dollar watches, but there was also some nice paintings and woodcarvings, woven furniture and traditional ikat sarong.

We went to a Balinese dance in Ubud. It lasted about an hour-and-a-half, and had some incredible music and dancing. They used traditional instruments, a lot of xylophones and drums, to make this hypnotic music. The first part of the dance was semi-religious, with a priest acting out some kind of purification ritual. The second part was a love story, where the hero was killed by someone who tried to steal the girl, but not before he was brought back to life by some mean looking characters. It was a really great show, and a big part of why people go to Bali - for the culture. Unfortunately I don't know anything about Balinese culture, only that it is really complex, mixing Hindu, Buddhist and animist philosophies together with traditional island fables and lore.

The next day we left for the resort part of Kuta, to relax and not deal with hawkers for a while. We just wanted to hang out by a pool, and maybe go to a club. But then we remembered that the Indonesion election was in three days, and that Bali had already been the site of a huge terrorist attack. So we decided not to go. Which makes me a little bit mad, now that I think of it. It's stupid how this 'terrorism' business is part of our pysche now. Obviously the threat exists, as Spain is still under high alert. But really, how much of a threat is it? Is it worth it, not doing what you want to do, in essence giving up a little bit of freedom? Then again, how important is a night out at a club, if it means getting blown to smithereens? We decided to stay at the hotel that night, get up early the next morning and go surfing.

What a gong show that was. We negotiated a deal with some kid on the beach. He promised us a lesson, but then when we got in the ocean and he just went suring, while me and Nancy struggled with the current. About the only lesson we got was when he told us not to float to Java. Thanks tips.

Back on shore I found out the fin had disappeared from my board. We told him we weren't going to pay, at which point his buddy came down and threw a crap. After a lot of talk about bosses and this being their country, I finally gave them five dollars, but not before Nancy jinxed our 'instructor' with some bad luck, and I told the friend that the money was bad luck money, which is a big deal for them because all money is 'good luck money'. Whenever they get some, they touch everything in sight, for good luck. So we felt a little better, knowing that they would have bad luck for the rest of the day.

After surfing, it was time to get ready to go. And now here I am.

Sank you berry muchi.

I've got a couple more Bali stories before I go back to the enjoying of the Japanese life.

After diving, Nancy and I got dropped at Padang Bai, a sleepy little fishing village set in a story book bay. White sand beach, traditional Balinese fishing boats moored to the palm trees, children laughing and swimming in the crystal blue water and an overall lack of tourists made for a peaceful couple of days.

The massage didn't hurt other.

At first we took him for just another hawker with some strange poking and prodding for a massage. We ignored him and headed for the beach. He followed us and non-chalantly handed us a piece of paper, printed off the Internet. It was an article about him, one Mr. I. Waylan. The article was by a couple who have made repeated trips to Bali and, by chance, stumbled upon Mr. Waylan's "special massage". The article was actually a rave review, stating that Mr. Waylan was the Balinese equivalent of a Tai-chi master, and that it was not uncommon to experience visions as he chanelled the evil spirits from your body.

Cheap visions! We decided to give Mr. Waylan a chance.

His massage parlor was actually a bedroom in his home. Blinds were drawn over closed windows, paint was peeling from the walls, his family was watching TV in the living room while chickens cock-a-doodle-dooed in the yard. The massage table was his bed, covered in a clean sarong. The waiting area was another bed in the same room, piled high with clothes and pillows.

The room quickly heated to blast-furnace proportions as Mr. Waylan got busy on the massage. First he gave a rousing butt massage, before working his way up along the spine toward the base of the neck. Then it was the arms and then the back again, before the feet. After that, he asked me to roll over so that he could jam his thumb deep into my stomach. It hurt like crazy, and just as I was about to yell out in pain, he would let go. Wierd. After that he cracked all my toes, and asked me to lean up against his chest. At this point my hands were both asleep, and I could hardly keep my eyes open. Throughout the massage, the sounds of his home lulled me further into relaxation - people singing, children laughing, the TV humming. Finally, he massaged my head for a while before working the sleep out of my hands. Then it was done. I didn't see any visions, but didn't see any need to ask for a refund.

Afterward we sat around and talked for a while, when it became clear that Mr. Waylan may very well have attained enlightenment. He was the mellowest guy I ever met in my life, smooth as silk. Everything was "no problem" and "long time" as far as he was concerned. His character probably made him good at his work, or else his work built his character. Whichever, there's no doubting the power of Mr. Waylan's "special massage".

Bali was amazing! Scuba diving was unreal. It was like being on another planet. Jon summed up our trip wonderfully.

i have some great news. soon jon and i will be able to provide you with pictures because.....

jon gave me a digital camera!!! it is awsome. 5.0 megapixels and 12X zoom plus lots of other cool features that allow you to be more creative than with point and shoot cameras. it is a Canon Powerpoint S50. for those of you who are interested in learning more, go to canon and click on S50. the camera in the picture is black but mine is silver.

as soon as i figure out the camera and my computer, jon and i will hook you guys up.

stay tuned!

Back in the office, doing nothing, makes it hard to believe that only yesterday I was in Bali, Indonesia.

Bali, the most famous island in the world, is a small, densely populated, predominately Hindu tourist mecca. Kuta, the main tourist destination, seethes in the sweltering tropical sun. Primarily a knick-knack shop where all variety of wooden carvings and silk weavings can be purchased - not to mention bootlegged DVD's and extremely illegal hashish (9 years-to-death for possession) - Kuta is also the main surfer hang-out, night club and beach resort on the island. Equidistant to the airport and a world-class beach break, Kuta exerts its own gravitational force: there is no avoiding the city.

Deeply tanned street hawkers, who offer everything from imitation Oakley's to pedicures, are drawn to the city, and start the bargaining at two or three times the real price. As a counter balance, Billabong, Rusty, and Fresh Jive have erected multi-story, brightly-lit, air-conditioned shops where tourists can buy a pair of shorts for about what a taxi-driver earns in a week, price not negotiable. Beach front versions of the Hard Rock Cafe and McDonalds conduct sunset battle with coconut shell briquette barbeque stands. The contrast in poverty and wealth is offensive and intriguing. It hurt the brain after a while.

We spent two days in Kuta, in order to arrange our scuba diving. We ended up going with the first company we saw: Scuba Dooby Doo. Clever name, eh?

Asril, our dive instructor, came from the Mulaccos, a group of islands bordering another group of islands belonging to the Phillipines, where the Christians and the Muslims are having at one another. Asril is fluent in his native language (similar to Maori), Indonesian, Balinese, English and Dutch, has a smattering of German and Japanese, is studying for his M.Sc. in marine biology, and has just returned from a year-long marine eco-tourism course in Holland.

Over the course of our three-day diving adventure, we had some great talks with Asril about Indonesia, tourism and the environment. He has been working for about two years on a project to develop an eco-tourism vacation to his home island. He spoke passionately about the need to protect the coral reef and forests (Indonesia has some of the worst logging practices in the world - both legal and illegal - and coral is routinely used for concrete), and about how he thought it could be done.

Together with international and local organizations, Asril has helped create a scuba-diving and parrot watching vacation. For $900 (all-inclusive, from Bali), tourists can spend ten days parrot watching, scuba diving, and generally enjoying the tropical heat. Asril believes that by creating work for the villagers, they will devote less time to felling trees for rice paddies and palm plantations and killing the monkeys and birds (parrots) that eat their crops, and more time to education and improving their standard of living. He said that the villager's new job will be to protect the environment, rather than control (degrade) it. All profits from the program will stay on the island, to help maintain traditional courts and educational systems and preserve traditional culture.

Anyway, the scuba diving was amazing. We dived in Tulamben. We saw Nemo swimming around in his home, a huge barracuda and a million other types of fish. We dived in the wreck of the USS Liberty, which started at five metres underwater and ended at 20. It scared me at first when I saw this huge shadow hanging over me in the ocean, but then I saw all the fish swimming around in the coral and I was awestruck. One of the guys we talked to, who spends about one month every year diving, said it was the best wreck he'd ever seen. We dove off the edge of a coral shelf, which dropped toward the middle of the world as far as I could tell. Our hotel was basic, but overlooked the ocean and had a nice little pool and underwater bar stools. It was an unforgettable experience. My only regret is that we didn't spend a couple more days diving. But apparently Japan has some excellent diving as well, so there's always another day.

Speaking of which, I better get back to work, or pretending to study Japanese anyway. Later.