Morbidezza: 書を捨てよ町へ出よう

Film Review: Throw Away Your Books and Go Out Into the Streets
1971 Japan. dir: Shuji Terayama

I recently obtained a copy of a film called Throw Away Your Books, Rally in the Streets made in Japan in 1971. Two weeks prior to watching it, I watched another film from the same era, Easy Rider, with someone from Japan who had never seen it before. Mulling over the Japanese film for several days afterward, I pondered the similarities between the films, and realized bemusedly that "書を捨てよ" probably had the same effect on me that Easy Rider had on my Japanese friend. Probably, neither of us quite grasped the full impact of certain visual (or musical) references, but we each understood that the films represented a bas-relief of the specific cultural attitudes from which they emerged.

I know next to nothing about Shuji Terayama (the film's director), but I have gleaned that he was a member of a group called the Art Theater Guild, which played a crucial role in the independent Japanese film industry starting in about the late 1960s. The Art Theater Guild was a kind of filmmakers cooperative, whose chief purpose was to provide a distribution outlet for struggling independent filmmakers. Japan's film industry at that time was a studio system not unlike Hollywood's of the same era, so forming such an organization made a lot of sense for art filmmakers who would other wise have little chance getting distribution. The Art Theater Guild was able to make one-on-one arrangements with theater owners to give their titles limited runs, at times when theater owners might otherwise be facing programming slowdowns. A by-product of this coalition was that many of these filmmakers collaborated on each others' work - so it became a kind of production workshop/studio in its own right. The roster of Japanese filmmakers associated in one way or another with the Art Theater Guild is an impressive roll call, and includes Nagisa Oshima and Toshio Matsumoto. In this regard, Terayama and ATG occupied a similar space in the Japanese film industry as Hopper, Fonda, Altman and others occupied in Hollywood - at the crest of a wave of changes in film aesthetics and industry business practices.

As a straight narrative, Throw Away Your Books is much more loosely wrapped than Easy Rider (which, as a buddy-road movie, is essentially a "quest," and one of the oldest narrative models known to Western culture). Terayama's film is a series of vignettes, following a young protagonist and his family and friends, intercut with documentary elements. It is bookended by two sequences in which the narrator breaks the 4th wall and addresses the audience in a monologue on the artificiality of cinema. Obviously, these filmmakers who contributed to what became known as the "Japanese New Wave" took much inspiration from the French movement of the same name. However, in content it clearly urges Japan to reclaim an identity that is free of Western influence.

In the film's symmetrical bookend sequences, the narrator speaks directly to the audience, mockingly identifying himself as "no one," a figure of no historical importance. He questions our willingness to sit in the dark and wait for something to happen, for events to be revealed by insignificant shadows on the screen. At the film's end he chides our readiness to stroll out of the theater and let the events we'd witnessed be banished from our memories as daylight banishes the image from a movie screen.

Cueing the lights to come up, the narrator reveals himself to be standing amongst all of the crew members. "Although it is true that movies themselves can exist only in the dark," he tells us, "[from them can be born something which we can take away, into our daily lives.]"

There is almost a pre-punk, anti-Establishment ethic to the film. It swears off Western capitalism, it burns the American flag, there is a "Primer For Young People on How to do Drugs" vignette. It's easy to understand where this comes from. Japan's entire post-war identity was modeled after the US.

Terayama blasts Japan for being "like a lizard, captured in the Cola bottle" of the US, humiliated and incapable of escape. Over a shot of trashed empty cigarette cartons, branded "Peace," one of the film's many songs shouts "We want real peace." It's not just real peace that seems to be the bone of contention, but a real identity of this generation's own making, rather than an inheritance of the legacy of WWII.

All of the angst, the loud music, wild handheld camera, sexuality and drug use is part of the generational rebellion that was ocurring all over the world in the late 60s and early 70s. For American youth as much as Japanese, the generational rebellion was probably influenced in part by the legacy of WWII, since in the US it was the righteous victory against Fascism that was turned upside down in Vietnam which ignited the youth movement. In Terayama's depiction of Japan, WWII hangs over the family, even though the official Occupation has ended. Father is a "beaten dog, a war criminal," who drinks, pilfers money from his son and spies on women in the toilet. "Home is a pigsty," and father wants grandma to go to an old folks' home run by American-influenced Christian missionaries. Terayama's protagonist's urge to leave "home" could be read as a desire to escape the paternalistic shadow of the US.



There is a recurrent image in the film of the protagonist at the helm of a lightweight glider, trying to take flight, but always just barely skimming over the ground. At the film's end, the glider burns in an empty field.

In his epilogue, the narrator tells us that while filming, each actor became their role and thus, each situation became real. And while it played on screen, it was real for each of us in the audience. The glider cannot escape the bounds of the film screen; it crashes and burns, showing us again that reality of art is finite. But the implied hope I think is that the audience will be provoked, and move "skyward" by other means. Terayama was acknowledging that his art was a seed that needed minds to take root.

Lastly, the film has a really cool final credit sequence. There are no names given (at least not on the version I saw). It is merely a long dolly past all of the faces that appeared in the film. Long ago, I saw a student film titled "Morbidezza." The term originated during the Renaissance and described an extreme delicacy in the rendering of human fleshtones. In that film, the filmmaker gathered his family around a dinner table and had them hold a pose for 10 minutes, then slowly tracked over all of their faces. In Easy Rider also, Dennis Hopper films this type of "morbidezza" sequence (to re-appropriate the term). The scene takes place in the hippie commune, during a prayer of thanks for the food they have struggled to farm. I always thought it was astoundingly sensitive and real, and kind of epitomizes a film which has become a time capsule of a specific generational attitude. In Terayama's hands the shot is equally effective, especially following his character's overt bids for anonymity, which the shot proceeds to disprove. "I am no one." "You will forget us," the narrator says. These words lead into the shot, tracking across dozens of faces, in full silence, re-familiarizing the audience with every single cast member of the past two and a half hours. In their plainness and silence, they are rendered un-anonymous. All of their individual characteristics are thrown into relief and we can stare directly into their eyes and see each living soul that played a role in creating this work. It reminds us that each of us has the power to be creative and collaborative in an infinite variety of ways.



One further note -- the last face is that of Akihiro Miwa, a famous drag performer in Japan who has a small part in the film. I really loved Kuro Bara no Yakata (Black Rose Mansion), so it was a surprise pleasure to see him pop up in another film.


A reviewer on IMDB wrote that this was the "strangest" and "best" Japanese film they had ever seen. I would describe it as neither, but it's worth checking out if you can find a copy or catch a screening.

Hot Hot Heat

The heatwave is finally over and thankfully, after 5 consecutive nights of being without electricity, I can again turn on a fan, or read by something other than candlelight. The temperatures got up to about 102 around here and apparently 26 people in the Los Angeles area died. Although it sucked not having power for several hours at a time, I thought about people in disaster areas like New Orleans and decided that between water and power, I would rather have water. During intense heat, you can at least jump in the bathtub.

Starting Friday, Tomoko called me to say that people were gathered outside my apartment and the place was dark. The power stayed off for several hours, and was interrupted again each day until Tuesday, lasting longer each time. Monday and Tuesday, we went dark around 5pm and did not have power restored until the following morning.

The odd (and infuriating) thing about it (as anyone standing on the street in the dark at night would have told you), was that it only seemed to be our side of the street that was affected for so many consecutive days. I took a stroll around Los Feliz on Tuesday night and the power was on everywhere else but our street. The neighbors directly across from us all had their lights on and their AC fans cranking away. I sat outside with some neighbors from my building and grumbled over brownout conspiracies and ground my teeth around the words ENRON and energy deregulation.

While it was a nuisance for us, I thought about MacArthur Park not having power for over 48 consecutive hours. Made up of mostly Spanish-speaking Latino immigrant families, they are not a community that is likely to lodge many effective complaints to the city. Was it possible that neighborhoods were selected by such criteria to lose power, thereby preventing an uncontrollable power outage in a more affluent and vocal part of the city? A kind of controlled burn? Gives new meaning to the term "brownout." I read an interview with a MacArthur Park woman who said that her food had spoiled and it was not within her family budget to replace it. There are also stories of elderly people on welfare dying because they were afraid of the energy bill that would come from running the AC for too long.

Amidst all this, there is the debate over whether global warming is "real." What I love most is that conservative thinkers who want us to pay for more power plants are the same people who say it's always been this hot. If that's so, why the hell are we blowing the power grid like never before? I think the answer is that some of those power plants that were taken off-line by ENRON during the California Gubernatorial Coup were never brought back online to full capacity (if at all).

I'm sorting through my fridge now and throwing away food that Tomoko, in all her loving maternal sweetness, bought and cooked for me, and that makes me bitter. I'm sure a lot of other people are more bitter. There's a cool breeze coming through the window now, so maybe all of our tempers will cool. Until, as my neighbor Tom thinks, we receive bills that are drastically higher next month, reflecting the costs of so many new lines and transformers that are being passed on to us. Seems like all the old infrastructure is really going to the dogs.

Time to crack open a skunky beer.

From the LA Times:
Blackout losses no sweat for utilities
Steaming over an abuse of power
This is absolutely miserable

Efrem's Visit - Sun Drunk Biking and Skidoo

My friend Efrem came to visit again this summer. He is working on a phD in Math and for the past two summers has participated in summer academic programs at UCLA. Last year I caught up with him a bit - saw that he had his dreadlocks back, which reminded me of the old days when we used to play in a band together. I know Efrem's into biking and I had wanted to do a Midnight Ride with him, but the scheduling just didn't work out while he was here. So I met him in Westwood with the aim of biking down to the beach.

We biked down to Santa Monica and then headed south along the beach bike path. This summer has been hot as blazes in LA and Saturday was no exception. After an hour or so, we began to discuss getting some food. We were down around Playa del Rey and I knew there was a pier at Redondo with a restaurant that served deep-fried seafood. Efrem seemed into it, so we started biking for that.

But I had forgotten how far Redondo really was. I was looking for the twin smoke-stacks of the power plant that sits just off Redondo Beach. I have seen those when I have been diving there. As we approached the El Segundo area, I saw the smoke-stacks and told him, "We're almost there." But, it was a water treatment plant - false alarm.

My ass began to get REALLY sore. My bike is 12 years old and badly needs some chain grease and a new seat. It was squeaking and the seat felt like it was made of nails. We both started to complain of being tired. The sun really didn't help. I could feel my face and arms getting a good burn. I started to laugh everytime I told Efrem that it was just a bit further. We were both hungry, but I could not let us stop before we reached the seafood joint.

Eventually, I saw the pier.
We found the seafood place and got a couple of deep-fried plates of seafood and some beer. Efrem swatted at the seagulls who begged at our window. We noticed that the place was Korean, and we saw some delicious looking Korean seafood stew being served. Since we were still kind of ravenously hungry, we decided to order some. And more beer. And some soju to go with it. Efrem thought the soju was strong, so I drank most of the bottle.

Now exuding spicy garlic kimchee fish breath and alcohol fumes, we hobbled back to our bikes and began the trek back to Westwood. Having been the one inciting us to persevere on the way down, I was doing a lot more complaining on the way back up. When we got back to Westwood, it was about 9pm and dark. I had wanted to make my way to the Cinematheque for a screening of Otto Preminger's LSD-inspired 1960s comedy Skidoo, with Jackie Gleason and Groucho Marx. (I'm not kidding, either... I'd heard rumors that Jackie and Groucho and Otto all did LSD together before making this film. I can only confirm that Otto did.)
For some incomprehensible reason, despite the ridiculous distance we had just biked in sweltering heat, under the influence of large quantities of fermented hops and rice, and knowing that we were already late to the screening, which was in Hollywood - a 20 minute drive - we decided to go.
They let us in free since we were over an hour late, but the film had not started yet anyway. Since it is such a bizarre cult film that is rarely ever screened, there was an hour or so of introduction, which is what we walked in at the tail end of. For a review of the film, you will have to talk to Efrem, or Jeff and Teresa, who also showed up. I sat down, saw about ten minutes and the fatigue from the day caught up with me. I snoozed through Jackie Gleason's famous acid trip scene and woke up to Carol Channing singing "Skidoo" on a boat, while a bunch of people danced behind her in a samba line. I've probably slept through better films.

The next day, Efrem sent me this map of our trip. Just so no one thinks I am a complete wuss, we biked more than 40 goddamn miles! Drunk and sunburned!





Lastly, there's this: (I wonder if this was post-LSD Gleason talking..?)

(Buy Skidoo on DVD! Through the wonder of the internets!)

Hiking Alone

I made a loop. Earlier than I'd intended. Made an incorrect assumption. It happens. I returned to where I'd started and missed what I'd been looking for. Despite the near-constant stream of banter which passed between me and Jae, we somehow avoided making this particular mistake together. I guess internal monologues can be louder and more distracting than external dialogues.
Maybe the second head was the smarter one.
The worst wounds are the self-inflicted ones, the ones that strike at one's self-worth. The soul is what rebuilds the self when the world has struck it down. Rebuilding takes ingenuity.
Losses always seem to stir memories of other losses, other failures. We mark time by what's changed. Everything is a choice; sometimes our choices are unconscious. Morality is a choice.
Staring at a tree that's lost its leaves can be melancholy. But being melancholy is a choice. And so is staring.
Emotion is inherently irrational. We're equipped with reason and feeling. Are these not tools? If we find ourselves flailing, could we not choose a more appropriate tool?
Is it our confidence that blinds us when we trample off-road and lose our way? Or is it our doubt that leads us there?
No animal, man or beast, can destroy you. Only you can do that.
Love yourself, harm no soul.
Remember, and leave something wonderful to be remembered.

Linda Lea I Love You Still

On foot one day in downtown LA, I noticed a dilapidated old neighborhood movie theater with a cracked marquee featuring a kimono-clad geisha. Linda Lea Japanese Films, read the marquee. Up top, I noticed the Toei Studios logo, familiar from so many yakuza and samurai flicks that I have been unearthing over the past few years on DVD.

I usually make my way to the Egyptian for their annual Japanese Outlaw Masters series, which is a great way to get your fix of chanbara and yakuza films on the big screen. But seeing the Linda Lea marquee there on the edge of Little Tokyo kind of blew my mind. For one thing, there is only one operating movie theater in downtown now; chalk that up to a small residential population and the plethora of other movie/shopping "destinations" around the city. But for another, even considering the number of former theaters demolished, decrepit or being used for other purposes in downtown, I was startled to see one that specialized in Japanese films.

The theater sits on Main Street, which is not the bustling metropolitan thoroughfare that the name might suggest. The street on this block (and stretching several blocks south) is populated mostly by homeless people who are corraled into Skid Row by an unofficial and controversial policy of containment. Standing on the desolate street before the cracked marquee, I could imagine this place as it must have been in the late 1960s or early 1970s, with the words GRAVEYARD OF HONOR or SWORD OF DOOM stuck in red plastic letters to the marquee.

In fact, the theater's history is much older than that. I found a great site called Cinema Treasures, on which users submit data about old theaters dug up from public records. The history of the Linda Lea is a little patchy and hard to follow. It seems to have gone by several different names, and there are records of different kinds of businesses inhabiting the address. As far back as 1890, there are conflicting city records documenting the existence of (variously) a saloon, a furniture store and the Los Angeles Floral Society, all at 251 S. Main. Confusing matters slightly is the fact that, apparently, another theater existed at 255 S. Main (next-door), which was known at different times as the Union and the New York. Clearly, from looking at newspaper articles and directories, Main Street in the early 1900s was a booming entertainment district with many bars, burlesques, shops and theaters. The first real historic thread for the Linda Lea appears in 1924, when a construction contract was put together to build a 500-seat theater at 251 S. Main, the site where she currently stands.

A photo of Main St taken c.1925, showing the Arrow Theater, later to become the Linda Lea. Note the distinctive upward slope on the roof and the sign proclaiming "All Seats 10 cents." This is where the Linda Lea/Toei logo would later be mounted. From LA Public Library. Click to enlarge.

In 1925, right around the time the Arrow (as it was then known) was opening for business, another theater was built just up the street at 324 E. 1st St, in the heart of Little Tokyo. It was called the Fuji-Kan and screened Japanese movies exclusively. Wikipedia* states that "At its peak, Little Tokyo had approximately 30,000 Japanese Americans living in the area." That's about the estimated population of all residents in downtown today. Clearly, there was enough patronage for an all-Japanese movie theater. But 16 years later, that would change with the attack on Pearl Harbor and Roosevelt's Executive Order 9066. In 1942, Little Tokyo became a ghost town. The doors of the Fuji-Kan were boarded up.

The Fuji Kan Theater at 324 E. 1st St. Left: 1939. Right: 1941.

With many white American men in military service, African-Americans from the South moved to California in numbers to work in the shipyards, where bosses temporarily put aside their discriminatory hiring practices to meet the demands of the war. People came to the coast cities in such numbers, there was a lack of housing. In addition, in most of the city, restrictive housing covenants were in place that prohibited African-Americans from buying or renting. The empty buildings of Little Tokyo soon became home to a thriving African-American community with an identity of its own. Few people that I've met have heard of LA's Bronzeville, as its tenure lasted only about three years. But it forms an important part of the city's history, extending the African-American corridor of Central Avenue into the heart of downtown. Music critic RJ Smith recently wrote a very interesting book on Central Avenue's cultural significance, and includes an entire chapter on jazz and rhythm-n-blues in Bronzeville.

Perhaps a former restaurant, a sign over the door reads Bronzeville Arcade. Through the glass, a neon sign written in Japanese is still visible, reading 料理, or "cuisine." One of many Little Tokyo buildings that served Bronzeville residents. c.1945 (From the Bronzeville site.)

In 1945, the Fuji-Kan, now sitting in the heart of Bronzeville, re-opened as the Linda Lea. At its gala opening on Sat Feb 10, there was a double-feature of Minstrel Man and Brazil, as well as an orchestra, tap dancers and other stage performers. Meanwhile, the Arrow Theater back on Main was undergoing its own changes. Sometime around 1940, it changed its name to the Azteca and began showing Spanish language films. A news photo from Nov 20 1940 shows the building's marquee (minus the geisha of today), with the titles El Vuelo de la Muerte, and Bajo el Cielo de Mexico.

It's interesting to me seeing how the names of the theaters, and the titles of the films programmed, reflect the changes in the area demographics. In addition to the creation of Bronzeville, one of the other side-effects of the Japanese internment was an increase in Mexican immigrants. LA has always had a large Mexican population, but during the internment, there were more people coming directly from Mexico to work. Japanese-Americans played a large role in farming and agriculture, operating their own farms, or working for other growers. In Hawaii for instance, where Pearl Harbor actually ocurred, the Japanese-Americans were not interned, because the government recognized that their labor in pineapple and sugarcane fields was too indispensible, and could result in economic collapse if lost. Just as the war industry was willing to look the other way when it came to hiring African-Americans in the factories, some Japanese were released from the detention camps in order to help harvest crops. "They literally saved the beet harvest in '42 and '43, because so many of the men were away for the war," said Patricia Wolfe, treasurer of the Heart Mountain, Wyoming Foundation.(USAToday*). America was facing a shortage of labor of crisis proportions, so Mexicans were brought in by train to downtown LA Union Station, under the Bracero Program.

From 1945-46, with the war still on, but Japan in retreat, the internment camps began to close and release Japanese-Americans. They had lost farms, houses and shops, and would find it difficult to resume life as before. Nevertheless, there were those who returned and downtown landlords returned their leases, beginning a transition that ended the Bronzeville era. In 1947, the Linda Lea on 1st St (the former Fuji-Kan) closed down and re-opened at 251 S. Main, replacing the Azteca (the former Arrow). I have not yet found information on whether the theater switched its programming to Japanese films at this time. One can only speculate as to why the name remained Linda Lea once Japanese programming resumed.

After the internment, Little Tokyo would never fully recover, as most families moved to outlying suburbs like Torrance and Gardena instead of returning to downtown. From the "30,000" believed to have lived there prior to 1941, there are now "about 1000," most of them retirees (Wikipedia*). Although the Japanese-American community became politically active in the 1970s and 80s, seeking restitution for the internment and attempting to restore Little Tokyo through community development projects, a new residential base never took hold. In the years following the war, the city of LA claimed property under Eminent Domain laws for the construction of city projects (including the Police headquarters) and the New Otani Hotel, with other portions being plowed under for industrial warehouse space. As an ethnic enclave, it became characterized by an assortment of ramen shops, video rental and bookstores, and Japanese grocery markets. Despite a recent surge in popularity of Japanese pop culture, and the resultant influx of dollars from visiting shoppers, Little Tokyo seems to be steadily assimilating into the generic downtown backdrop, as businesses like American Apparel, Office Depot and Starbucks replace storefronts previously occupied by Japanese businesses.

A friend of mine commented that Little Tokyo today is "like Disneyland," presenting a dressed-up, tourist version of its former self. Would preserving the Linda Lea only add to that sense of the artificial? Many people that I've talked with, even LA history buffs, have never heard of Bronzeville. Does the preservation of buildings like the Linda Lea automatically raise our awareness of our city's history?

Right now, downtown LA is experiencing one of the largest urban makeovers anywhere in the country. The NY Times reports that over 15,000 new residential units have been completed or are in the process of construction in downtown since 1999. There are numerous loft/condos in converted warehouses surrounding Little Tokyo with selling prices starting around $670 per square foot. Proponents of urban redevelopment can point to conditions on Skid Row and argue that change in downtown is a good thing. But few people can afford to buy in to the condos and lofts that are being built. And LA has a particular habit of destroying historic buildings, only to memorialize them later out of some pious regret. The current wave of development is just one of many changes in the downtown neighborhood over the decades, but it is the most large-scale and expensive. Is there anything wrong with asking whether downtown will be better served by franchise clothing stores, coffee shops and luxury lofts than by family-run LA institutions like Fugetsu-Do, the Japanese confectionery which has been here since 1903?

Recently, some Angelenos have banded together to slow the development of the area. After being petitioned with over 5500 public signatures, Councilwoman Jan Perry has expressed concern over the potential loss of Little Tokyo's "distinct characteristics."

Mulling over these things, I have watched the Linda Lea sit in disrepair for months while plans for its renovation were discussed. Finally, work is underway, although at the moment it looks like it is being completely demolished to make way for the new project. Leased by the ImaginAsian Entertainment company, the site will host a theater programming Asian films from all over the world. I'm happy to see another theater occupy this spot where, for over 80 years, people have been watching movies. That's a span of time that is almost as old as movies themselves. Hopefully the new theater will connect with an audience, and movies will continue to live on Main St. It may be interesting for some armchair history sleuth to discover the lineage of whatever building faces demolition eighty years from now.

History is a white elephant sale: what's meaningless to one may be dear to another. Unfortunately, as with so many things, the value is often determined by the highest bidder.

My Sources
Bronzeville
Cinema Treasures
Articles on Downtown Development
Little Tokyo Motion Highlights Downtown's Lack of Specific Plans
Downtown development spills into rebounding ethnic enclave
In Los Angeles, a Gehry-Designed Awakening
Articles on the Linda Lea and the ImaginAsian
ImaginAsian Center Will Add Modern Life to Main
The Linda Lea Sequel - Rundown Theater to Be Recast as One-Screen Specialty Cinema
Curtain Comes Back Up on Historic Japanese Theater
Articles on Skid Row
Desolation Boulevard
Escape from L.A.'s Skid Row Can Prove Difficult

Turning 30.

It's come...
My palm crystal is starting to blink.
30 kinda heralds the end of feeling like a kid.
I can still scale Half Dome, but I'm not likely to be let off the responsibility hook anymore.
In Okinawa, people generally accepted that I was a young, lone traveler until they found out I was 29. Then most of the rural people told me I should be married.
All the things you thought you should have achieved by now (whatever they are) begin to seem either urgent or distant and unattainable at this age.
If you still don't know what those goals are, the rootless, randomness of your life is not brought into any sharper focus by aging alone.
Eh, it's just another day.
The best lesson of aging is to try to live all of them well.

Yaeyama Photo Blog

I finally got some pictures from my recent trip to Okinawa online to view. You can check them out by following this link.

Kurt Vonnegut.

This is only my second day back from my Okinawa trip, but it feels like one long, continuous day since I left, and the trip itself feels like it happened months ago. I am not on island time anymore, but I am not yet on LA time. I drank island awamori with Jeff tonight, but even that could not convince me to go to bed, and here it is 6:30am.

Being in the islands was fantastic, but I think my greatest sadness hit me as I left Yonaguni, the first and furthest small island that I visited. I did not expect the kindness that I received there and I felt terribly lonely to be leaving friendly people behind me indefinately. There were good times ahead of me though, and it it felt great to be unaware of the world for that short two weeks.

Coming back to the US, I was greeted with many unfortunate news stories that had transpired while I was away, oblivious to US current events. The first was of course the VA Tech shootings. While in Yonaguni, a week before the massacre ocurred, Naomi had asked me whether I'd ever used a gun. It seems like an unusual question, but reflecting back on what people know of LA and the US, maybe it is totally logical. Anyway, I have used one, so perhaps my surprise at the question is more unusual than the question itself.

In the wake of that news, there has been the following story of the NASA Space Center contractor who killed himself and a female hostage in Houston. There have also been a flurry of small, local alarms and building closures now that the media coverage of these events has everyone on edge and in fear of their safety. A local high school was closed today after a teen went missing with two of his parents' handguns. Does this kind of thing happen everyday and go unreported? Is it suddenly news because it is a convenient tie-in to the VA Tech story? When that story finally dies, will these smaller ones go away too? Or was that large-scale massacre like a full moon, upsetting the equilibrium of people teetering on the edge of their sanity? Is our society so pathological? Does our way of living make that many people sick, or is it by sheer power of numbers that we see more evidence of murderous rampages than in other countries? Or is it our citizens' convenient access to handguns that differentiates their outbursts from those of their crazy counterparts abroad? Will we ever develop the will, as a society, to limit our free access to guns in exchange for a reduction in wanton murder sprees? Gun activists say that people, not guns, are to blame for killing. Which people are to blame for Seung-Hui Cho's ability to purchase handguns off the internet?

Today I also learned that one of my favorite writers passed away on April 11. Kurt Vonnegut was 84 years old and survived the firebombing of Dresden Germany during WWII, a scene he later depicted famously in his novel Slaughterhouse-5.
What is there to say? Vonnegut was a writer who was often erroneously classified as a science-fiction novelist, although he was more succesful at transcending the genre ghetto than other great American writers of the late 20th century, such as Philip K. Dick (although the two have little in common). He was a satirist, a social critic, he used very simple prose and had very sharp wit. His accessibility and acerbity attracted me at a young age and I quickly dissolved most of his major novels and short story collections.

Although opposite in writing style, his sensibilities are more in line with his equally luminous contemporary, Thomas Pynchon I think. They both have a kind of gleefully goofy irreverent humor, concern for the fate of humanity, contempt for authority, cautious attitudes towards technology, disregard for narrative chronology and they have both written books featuring robots, talking animals and end-of-the-world scenarios.

Vonnegut always seemed to me like the cool old crotchety grandfather of American writing; the kind whose complaints you would love to sit and listen to. After buying and reading more than 13 used paperbacks when I was a teenager and only had $4 to spare for a book, I eventually eased out of my Vonnegut phase, but like a great relationship, the memories lasted long after it ran out of gas. I think having such a literary gradfather in my early teens was formative and contributed to the brand of cynical idealism that is my current philosophy. Vonnegut was someone who was humorously cynical, but not without hope that his work as an artist-observer and cultural critic could prevent us from causing our own absurd decline.

In recent times, Vonnegut retired from writing fiction and turned his attentions to magazine articles, wherein he often gave the Bush Administration the much-needed ass-ripping that so many other writers have been unable to muster the balls for. Vonnegut, a man in his 80s, a distinguished man of letters, highly regarded and recognized, did not have any fear of offering his opinion when something struck him as absurd - it is what his entire career was founded on - and the recent Bush years provided him with ample fodder for magazine articles, but sadly, seemed to diminish his optimism for the fate of humanity.
LA Weekly columnist Dave Shulman, in his obituary to Vonnegut, quotes a passage from his recently-published non-fiction collection "A Man Without a Country:"

"Many years ago I was so innocent I still considered it possible that we could become the humane and reasonable America so many members of my generation used to dream of. We dreamed of such an America during the Great Depression, when there were no jobs. And then we fought and often died for the dream during the Second World War, when there was no peace.
But I know now that there is not a chance in hell of America becoming humane and reasonable."

Sadly I missed an opportunity to see Vonnegut several years ago when he read at LA's Armand Hammer museum. I normally try to see the people I consider the cultural heavyweights of my own time. I felt that Vonnegut's passing might be soon in coming, due to his age, and there was an incident several years ago, when his house caught fire, which I thought might have been his last call. I'm glad he lived long enough to get a few more jabs in at deserving targets, but I hope that the above quote was not representative of how he felt at the end. I suspect that it was not his final verdict on humanity, even if the pessimism towards the US culture, state of education and political system was genuine. People like Vonnegut are part of why I can accept the unwieldy American identity as my own, because in the end, all such arbitrary identities become irrelevant and the only thing that bonds people together is their ability to comprehend one another. For every unreasonable, ignorant, fearful, greedy, or weak force in the world, and for the mindless collectivism feeding around those forces, let their be a Vonnegut who can gently or scaldingly, with humor or frustration, provide a counterweight of independent thought to inspire people to question any seemingly obvious logic.

I wonder whether in this post-modern era, in which people seem to be unable to create anything that is not a direct reference to some pre-existing idea, when we will produce another like Vonnegut. Is such a person already at work and I am just unaware of it, or has our culture become so stagnant? He was that old grandfather, but for all of us who grew up at his knee, has no one yet stepped forward to resume in his place? Will we create another Vonnegut who is not merely "another Vonnegut," self-consciously referencing his predecessor's style and voice? How will our generation write our own stories and histories, how are we reacting to our own times? We do not have the grand historical furnaces of the Great Depression, or a Great War in which to fire our collective generational identity, but are the significant events of our own histories simply not registering on a generational scale the way they did in the 30s and 40s? Are we not at war now? Are we not in economic decline? Are the events of our lives grand enough to call attention to themselves, or must we continue to have the volume turned up with each succeeding generation? Can the events in our time compress each of our loose carbon bodies into critical diamond minds? Do we not love? Do we not die? Can our generation not also be great if we choose to be? Will we grasp the materials at hand, the events which unfold like historical threads around us, and make it so?

There is one last quote, again from an article that was collected in "Man Without A Country:"

"The Army kept me on because I could type, so I was typing other people's discharges and stuff. And my feeling was, 'Please, I've done everything I was supposed to do. Can I go home now?' That's what I feel right now. I've written books. Lots of them. Please, I've done everything I'm supposed to do. Can I go home now?"

Last Post From Okinawa

I'm at Naha Airport.
Not much to say. Never is when you're at the end of your vacation.
Okinawa was great.
I did not get to see much outside of Naha city, but I would like to return and visit the north side of the island.
I only spent 2 days here. I made it to Shuri-Jo, but was mildly disappointed to learn that almost the entire thing had been destroyed in the Battle of Okinawa and re-built over the past few decades. But then again, maybe I am attaching too much significance to the actual stone or wood, rather than the idea. I have heard that in Japan, many castles, shrines and temples are re-built with new materials every decade or so anyway. It keeps them in pristine condition.
Last night I went to a cool traditional Ryukyuan restaurant where some musicians were performing traditional music. I saw them performing from outside, through the second-story window, and noticed a sign explaining that they were being broadcast live on the radio. I decided to go check it out and got ushered in by one of the wait-staff.
Island music is pretty cool. It's dominated by sanshin (3-stringed guitar) and has drum and hand percussion accompaniment. But the singing is what's really cool. There are these percussive, staccato chants that the female singers stick in between choruses, like "ay, ay, ay." Maybe here at the airport I can find a CD store. I still wanted to buy a DVD copy of Dr. Koto, the TV show whose vacant set still sits on the beach at Yonaguni. I thought that would be good Japanese language practice.
The restaurant last night was a good watering hole. I got a few beers in me and was having a really good time. I would ask the waiter what a certain item was. I could read the name, but had no idea what it was. He would ask the chefs (I was sitting at the counter where I could see them preparing everything) and they would all shake their heads, and then I would say "Tabetemimasu." I will give it a try. They would nod, shout "Hai," and set about cooking it up. I tried pigface, mountain potato tempura, some kind fo raw meat that I have not yet figured out what the name means, and up front I ordered some goya champuru; in case anything after it turned out to be horrible, I would have gotten a good bed of digestible matter in my stomach first. But everythign was delicious and each time I got a new plate, I would signal to the chef that it was "Oishii," which seemed to please him.
Later on, I cruised around Kokusai Doori street, but it's all just junk shops, selling the same corny gifts: trinkets, fruits, T-shirts. It's OK, but it's similar to many other such streets. Not special the way the Yaeyamas were.
I decided that I would try to find a big bottle of Awanami Awamori as a return gift. Every shop on that long street sold awamori, but Awanami is somewhat elusive. It is made in Hateruma, the southern most island in Japan and the normal-sized bottle is said to be extremely rare. I did score some mini bottles for $10 each in Ishigaki. Last night I walked into a gift shop and asked if they had Awanami and the guy directed me to a shop down the street. I've noticed that some awamori brands use a lable with a very similar design, which is sorta amusing. I walked into the shop and found it, and read the sign that said 98000 Yen. About $80..? The shop-lady looked at me and said, "Awanami. 98000 yen."
I said, "Wakarimashita." SHe looked at me in disbelief and started talking to me in Japanese all about how no gaijin ever comes looking for that stuff and how amazed she is that I can speak at all and how jouzu I am. It was fun.
Anyway, the bottle is wrapped very carefully in several layers of underwear and towels in my checked luggage. That was the only way I could get it through security.
I sure hope it survives.
Shit. My plane will board soon.
Goodbye, Okinawa. Thanks to all the kind people.
Hope to come back soon.
-Andre.

Passport Lost and Found

Today was slightly harrowing.
This morning, in a rush to get my scattered crap together to make check-out time and do some sight-seeing and gift-buying during my last morning on Ishigaki, I lost my MOTHERFUCKING PASSPORT !
I had turned all my crap upside down looking for it, in all my bags (realizing that I really brought way too much crap from home that I didn't need). Yesterday, I had rented a scooter and gone around the island, stopping many places. I brought my passport and International Driver's License, needed for renting the bike. When I stopped at the Yaeyama Cultural Center, I took the passport out and stamped it with an Ishigaki stamp that was on display in one of the traditional Ryukyu village settings. Later, I stopped at Yonehara beach and jumbled my clothes around in my bag so I could do some snorkeling, which was fantastic. (Anyone who wants to know where awesome snorkeling is in Ishigaki should know about Yonehara. Next time, I want to bring a tent and camp there.)
Anyway, this morning I could only figure that maybe at Yonehara the passport and IDL had fallen out of my bag and were still laying somewhere on the sand, although I thought it odd that I would not have noticed the conspicuous dark blue US passport on the white sand beach.
Not really knowing what to do, I went to Ishigaki City Hall. My first brush with Japan's famed bureacracy. Many Americans in Japan have blogged about what a nightmare it can be to navigate the Japanese bureacracy. Maybe because it was Ishigaki and not a massive metropolis like Tokyo, or maybe because they took pity on a tourist and I was not a foreigner trying to obtain a resident alien card or something, the experience was very smooth and nothing to complain about.
I waited for about 10 minutes until an English speaking staff person could meet me. I did not feel up to the challenge of communicating in Japanese at this level. Fortunately, there was a guy working there who studied English in college. Most Japanese people seem to have had exposure to English in junior high, but their level of fluency ranges widely. Some people claim not to be able to speak and actually do fairly well, while others try to use English because they think they are being helpful, and actually it is easier to understand their Japanese. Haha.
Anyway, this guy (whose name I forgot! haha, but whose business card I have at my hotel) was very fluent and very helpful. He found the phone number for the American Consulate in Naha (Okinawa main island) and then drove me to the keisatsu (police station) to fill out a report. I was supposed to take the report, fly back to Okinawa main island and give it to the Consulate and hopefully have a new passport issued.
While we waited at the police station we chatted a bit. He asked about my job and what I had been doing in the Yaeyamas. I told him I had done a lot of diving and had gone to Yonaguni, and he perked up. "Which diving service?" he asked. I told him SaWes. "Aratake? He is my uncle!" So it turns out his mom's brother is the guy who owns SaWes diving service. He said he had a cousin who was living in Torrance, but moved to Sacramento. He went to Torrance once for a month and enjoyed it. I told him if he ever winds up back in California to come for a visit in LA, but in the madness of the moment, I forgot to say "Ni fai yuu," which might have impressed him since he was an Ishigaki native. He said his parents were from Yonaguni and I said I wanted to move there, buy a house, find a job, get married and call it a day. He told me, "Yeah, let me know. I'll help you." Hahaha. So all I need now is money.
Anyway, that was the easy part.
I got an early plane to Naha, Okinawa and jumped in a cab (expensive! about $35) to the Consulate. It was kinda amusing because the cab driver had no idea where I was requesting to go. That was when I was grateful that I had brought my electronic dictionary (and had not lost it).
When we figured out what I was talking about, we headed off. He asked me if I was "ami," or "soja." By now, I have learned these words: Japanese for "army" and "soldier." I said no and he goes, "Atama ga ii ne." You're smart. "Soldiers aren't very smart. They're no good," he told me. What could I say to that? I figured there was probably a lot of legitimacy to what he was saying. He and I seemed to hit it off pretty well though since I could communicate with him in Japanese a bit.
When we got to the Consulate, I had to speak to the guard to explain why I was there before they would open the gates and let us drive in. Kinda weird. Not really the kind of stuff you want to be doing while on vacation. Once we drive in, the cab driver starts pulling out my bags and another guard walks up and tells me in Japanese that the passport staff were already gone, as of 3pm. It was now just about 4. The cab driver looked at me like he wanted to drop me off the nearest bridge, probably thinking, "This guy is the world's biggest moron." He stuck my bags back in the trunk and we started to turn around. In my defense, I told him that the woman I had talked to on the phone told me they were open until 5. You should have complained to him, he told me. We paused for a minute and I considered jumping out to do so, but we looked at each other and thought Fuck it. "Ashita, ne." Handle this shit tomorrow.
I asked him if he knew an inexpensive business hotel, thinking I might get stuck here a couple days longer than expected. In Japan, a business hotel caters to traveling businessmen and is a little bit cheaper than a regular tourist hotel. They average around 5500 yen per night, which is about 50 bucks and they usually come with free breakfast. He said there were a lot around Kokusai Doori, which is the main drag in Naha, chock full of shops and restaurants and hotels. As we drove, he reached in his glove compartment and handed me a can of tea, apologizing that it wasn't cold. "Taihen da ne." Tough day.
When we got to the business hotel, he pulled over and said "Just a minute," running inside to check that the price was good. He came back, excitedly telling me that it was only 43000 yen per night and came with free breakfast! I thanked him profusely for all his trouble and checked in, tired and sweaty.
Like most people I have met so far, the guy was super kind and I thought about how he commented on his dislike for soldiers and how his perception of them undoubtedly extended to most Americans. It's a weird situation. I can't trash soldiers because I know who they are. They're mostly all just kids and don't know shit about Japan and don't necessarily care about it. On the plane from LA to Tokyo and again from Tokyo to Naha I sat with one Airforce guy and another Army guy. They looked tired. They looked like people do when they are at work. Their work involves traveling to foreign countries and doing whatever it is they're told to do, whether it is driving trucks in Okinawa or killing people in Iraq. I think those young guys are aware of not being necessarily well-liked here, which probably only adds to feeling alienated and uninterested in this place. It all depends on the individual of course, but my experience here is very different since I choose to be here and want to engage with people here. It seems like, even being a total dunce with Japanese language buys me the key to the city because I make an effort to fit in a little bit. I asked the cab driver if no other Americans here speak Japanese and he said none do. While we were driving down Kokusai Doori, he spotted a blonde "gaijin" (foreigner) and said, "Tomodachi?" (Is he your friend?) It's funny that Kokusai Doori (International Street) has few foreigners on it. Actually, although I have not seen much of it yet, Naha reminds me a little bit of Tokyo. Throughout Japan, you seldom see foreigners really. Which contributes to peoples' amazement when they see one, or when they see one use chopsticks, or when they see one who speaks Japanese a little bit. Which is why, even though my Japanese sucks, I get compliments (Jouzu desu ne.)
Anyway, Naha seems very crowded. There are tons of flashing lights and businesses. It may not be as easy here to make friends as it was in the small islands. The small islands are very laid-back and peaceful. Coming here is a weird way to decompress on the way back to LA.
Finishing up this story, once I had checked into my hotel, I once again tore apart my bags, thinking how much it would suck to be going back to the Consulate again tomorrow morning. And, there, buried in dirty clothes in a plastic bad with suntan lotion (so it would not get soggy at the beach) was my GODDAMN PASSPORT!
I thanked the heavens and stars and called the Consulate to apologize to the kind lady there and tell her not to expect me the next morning. Now, I am keeping it on me. Very close. In my underpants.
So, tomorrow, hopefully I will see Shuri-Jo. It is a historic castle from the days when Okinawa was the autonomous Ryukyu Kingdom. Maybe I will make it all the way north to see Churaumi Aquarium. Everything I have heard is that it is amazing, but that plan might be too ambitious. There are many things I did not get to do while here which I had wanted to, such as visiting an awamori distillery or the Orion beer brewery (I guess I could do that tomorrow), or going to the Observatory at Hateruma (the southernmost point in Japan), or camping on the beach. But that leaves me with an agenda for the next trip.
I really like Okinawa, more than any other place I have been to in Japan, and maybe any other place in general. Being here and meeting people and hearing the island music and being introduced to hougen (island dialect) really got me interested again in achieving fluency in Japanese. I know I would have benefitted so much more from certain experiences (such as the cross-island trek - the guide was an encyclopedia of knowledge or hanging out with Toshio-san or Furugen-sen) if I had been more fluent. I think when I return to LA, I will dispense with the silly community college classes and try to find a class taught by native Japanese people that is geared towards conversational fluency.
Anyway, I think I will sign off and have a look around Naha. The day after tomorrow is a long day. Crossing the International Date Line from East to West sucks! I will leave here in the PM and arrive the same day in the AM. Let's see if I can meet anyone here.
Ato de mata ne.

First Mexican In Ishigaki

Today is my last day on Ishigaki Island, and also my last day in the Yaeyama Islands. Today I fly to Okinawa hontou, or main island. I'm guessing it will be a different sort of experience, since I got a small taste of it when I passed through there on my way here. The feeling I got then was that the atmosphere was dominated by the US military presence. But maybe not. The airport definately was. Several times, while I have made my way through these islands, when people found out I was American (it is not always assumed, at least two people thought I was Italian), they ask me if I am "ami," which had me shaking my head in confusion until I realized they were asking me if I was in the Army.

I've met a ton of people here, all interesting, and many possessing bottomless kindness. This blog is totally backlogged, but I guess that's alright. When I get my pictures up at Kodak later, I'll try to remember to fill in the blanks in the travel chronology.
Anyway, last night was noteworthy.

I had rented a moped and made a complete circuit of Ishigaki, going all the way out to the northernmost point, where there is a lighthouse. There are many beautiful lighthouses on these islands, and I:ve seen almost all of them now. Yesterday, by the time I reached Hirakubo lighthouse, I had seen enough to only want to stay a few minutes and then jump back on the moped to race back to Ishigaki city before the road got too dark to see. So, I had returned the bike, taken a shower and was walking around the city, thinking I would buy a few omiyage (gifts for people back home). I was also looking for some place that looked like it would have good food, thinking I might go for a steak of Ishigaki beef. (All over these islands I have seen cattle grazing. It's really been quite beautiful just cruising the country backroads on the bike and viewing green hillsides with horses and cows on them. Many people are also cultivating rice fields which attract cranes.)

As I walked down the street I noticed a guy who did not really look Japanese, strumming a guitar. (There are not many, but some Japanese faces which don't really look Japanese to my non-native eye). I gave him a second look and thought he might be Latino. I kept walking, but could not really resist the urge to approach him and find out what his deal was.

His name is Martin and he moved to Ishigaki four years ago. He comes from Cancun, Mexico, where he studied Japanese for about 10 years. He told me that in Cancun, people kept asking him, "Martin, when are you gonna move to Japan?" as though they were making fun of him. I found that amusingly familiar. So after a short stint in Los Angeles, he moved to the mainland, staying for awhile in Osaka before moving to Ishigaki.

He asked me how long I had been studying and nodded approvingly when I was able to converse with a couple on the street who I had been out diving with the day before, and who just happneed to be strolling by. "TV is the best learning tool. You gotta watch a lot and imitate," he told me. I mentioned that being here is really quite different than being in LA because you almost feel yourself starting to think in another language. "But," Martin said, "you cannot let a lack of native speakers in LA or wherever be an excuse for not studying. Besides," he said, "there are thousands of native speakers in LA. In Cancun, there were zero."

While we were talking, a family of three approached and the husband started talking to Martin about the guitar. As it turned out, he had stopped by to listen to Martin for the past few nights and was a guitar player himself. After a few minutes of talking about guitar and sanshin (a traditional Okinawan stringed instrument), the man sat down and began to play a couple of Beatles tunes on Martin's guitar.

For awhile after we chatted, and Martin told me about his obsessions - soccer, guitar, snorkeling, studying languages (he speaks English, Spanish, French, Japanese, and a little bit of Russian and Italian!), and he also demonstrated one of his other primary interests - skirt-chasing. Martin is a nampa extraordinaire. In other words, he excels at the art of picking up women. Well, so he claims. I only saw him get turned down, but I must say he always elicited a lot of laughter and smiles with his gregarious and direct methods.

We headed to an izakaya (restaurant/bar) for some food and a few beers. Martin checked the place out first to see if any girls were in there that he might want to talk to first. He did not think the prospects looekd great, but he figured some cute girls might stroll in later. We sat and talked about diving, living abroad, and his business (he set up his own language school). While we were talking, the couple across from us took notice and the guy introduced himself. He and his girlfriend were Ishigaki natives and wanted to compliment us on our (mostly Martin's) Japanese ability and skillful use of hashi (chopsticks). I have found that I get that a lot in Japan. It does not matter how shitty my Japanese is, people will forever compliment me on how "jouzu" I am. Courtesy is big.

Martin talked with the guy for ahwile. I think his name was Hide, but I've already mentioned that I have a talent for forgetting names if I do not write them down. I could follow the gist of the conversation, but the details were tough. Hide (as I suppose I wil refer to him) talked about how parents always force their kids to study, taking all the fun out of it and conditioning people to hate study, which makes it harder later in life to try hard to learn something. He watches a lot of American movies with Japanese subtitles to practice listening to English. "He LOVES movies," his girlfriend said. "Culture is more important than language," Hide said, which I suppose means that language is just the key to understanding the culture. It was kinda funny to me to find people doing the same thing I am, interested in learning another language, another culture and being obsessed with movies.

Martin claimed that many people just do not have the requisite discipline to learn another language though. He was very disciplined and demonstrated amazing an amazing memory when Hide taught us some hougen (hougen is island dialect). He taught us three phrases. "We are brothers from the first time we meet," (does not translate to English very well, but said to someone you hit it off with), "Thank you very much," and "Nice to meet you." Of the three, I can only remember "Ni fai sei yu," which is "Thank you very much." (And I can only remember that one because Toshio-san taught me that on Iriomote.) But Martin's brain was like a sponge and he could repeat each one after hearing it only once. When Hide and his girlfriend told Martin he was "jouzu," I think it was pretty goddamn sincere.

While were walking, Martin said, "To really master the language, you gotta get inside the person's head, anticipate, be ahead of the game. Know what they think, know what they expect." I considered how his thoughts echoed Hide's as we stared down the street, Martin scanning for beautiful women. "Know what the rules are. And break them," he burst out laughing.

In Ishigaki

I am now on Ishigaki Island in Okinawa Prefecture, Japan.
I originally planned to arrive here on the 12th, but today is the 14th.
2 days late.
I am on island time. Shima jikan.
Ima chotto tsukarete iru kedo, nagai kan burogu wo shite inai.
It's weird... I know my Japanese is shitty but slipping into using it seems a lot easier now that I am surrounded by native speakers.
My last post was about Yonaguni. That must have been about 4 or 5 days ago.
Yonaguni was awesomr, or as Keizen-san would have me say, "Pisshari."
Keizen is from Kobe originally、but no Japanese person that I have met since leaving Yonaguni has any idea what "Pisshari" means, even people from Kobe.
In these small islands of Okinawa, the Ryukyus, the Yaeyama islands, there are many dialects known as hougen. I do not think that "pisshari" is hougen. Or Kansai-ben. I think it is Keizen-ben.
Anyway, there is a lot to tell about Yonaguni, but too much has happened since I left there to do a recounting now. This blog's accounting of Yonaguni will be like my pictures of the place: selective and not adding up to the whole. I do not even think I grabbed any shots of Yonaguni houses or typical neighborhoods. They were interesting. All tile roofed. All very simple.
As mentioned in an earlier post, I did meet with a woman named Ikema Nae. She runs a kind of museum called the YOnaguni Minzoku Shiryokan, out of her home. It is basically a cultural artifact museum of things she kept while growing up on Yonaguni. She showed me some old pictures of the island and some traditional ceremonies. She also took me outside and taought me to take the spiny Adan plant and make it into a windmill toy.
She wrote the only existing Japanese to Donan dictionary. (Donan is Yonaguni:s native laguage.)
Anyway, I am nodding off here.
I thought I would write about Iriomote about I keep falling asleep in this hotel lobby and I just heard the guy on staff clear his throat rather loudly.
Tomorrow, I am meeting Tom Sawyer Diving Company across the street to dive with manta rays at "Manta Scramble" in Ishigaki.
Tonight I had a great dinner at a place called SUSHITAROU. I and some friends met the host of that place a few nights ago at Toshio-san's place..
OK, I just fell asleep again and heard the guy clear his throat loudly again so I better wrap this up and have energy to dive with the mantas tomorrow.
Mata ne.

Last Night in Yonaguni

Tomorrow I move on to Iriomote, via Ishigaki airport.
My original purpose in coming here was to dive at the ruins, which I did, but I spent all day today sightseeing around the island by moped, which was equally great.
I noticed that at 8am and 7pm, a loudspeaker plays a 30second or so melodic chime, the kind which is familiar in many places in Japan, such as train stations. The chime reminds me of an alarm clock, one to start the day and one to signal that the day is over. I want to ask someone what it is for. I took a video of it with sound from my balcony.
I don't seem to need an alarm clock here though, not like I would in LA. I am somewhere in between LA time and Yaeyama time. I get tired around 10pm and wake up around 3am, but can kinda coast through 4 hours of stage one REM dozing.
Yesterday morning I woke up super early, maybe 2am, and dozed for the next 4.5 or 5 hours. Diving the previous day had been great, and I was wondering if the day's dives would include a trip to Isseki Point - the ruins I had come here to see. Depending on the weather, the crew would make the call as to where the dives would be.
I should say that in the weeks leading up to coming here, I was a little terrified of this dive, having read nothing but how strong the currents were and how it was definately not a destination recommended for anyone but the most experienced of divers, which I am not. But Saturday's dives had calmed my nerves and gotten me excited about the possibility of getting to see the ruins.
The water here is crystal clear, although visibility was not great because it has been so overcast. Mostly that just makes for darker water, it did not affect clarity. The sea was relatively calm when we were at the various dive sites, but it got fun when we were making our way in and out of Kubura Port. The cliff overlooking the port is home to one of Yonaguni's two lighthouses and is famed for being Japan's western-most point. As the boat neared this point and rounded it into the port, the waves would surge up and down pretty high and the boat would toss like a rollercoaster, dropping your stomach out from under you and sending plumes of spray into to air to wash over your entire body. A couple times, a huge wave would come from behind the boat and overtake us, flooding water onto the deck. It was a little hairy at first, but I started enjoying it. I was still in my wetsuit and half the time it was pouring rain anyway, so I just hung on and watched the black waves crash against the black rocks and turn into white spray and foam.
I did three dives on Saturday, the last one with just Rui, who is kinda the lead guy under Aratake it seems.
Sunday, I did four dives, with the third at Isseki Point. All day I followed Naomi, who moved to Yonaguni from Hokkaido, but thinks that it is cold here! (Hokkaido is in the far north of Japan and famous for being snowy and cold). I told her to come to California to dive so that she could experience what cold water diving is really like. A couple of weeks before I came here, I dived at Catalina and the water was about 55 degrees F. Here, it is about 75.
I am really happy that I got to see the ruins. While I was waiting at Ishigaki airport, speaking in broken Japanese with Ishida, I asked him whether he thought the ruins were really man-made ruins, or a natural geologic formation. Experts estimate that the stone is 8,000 years old, which predates any known recorded human history. Ishida laughed and said, "Jibun no me de kimete." Look for yourself and see what you think. After having been there and seen it, I cannot really say. Before Isseki Point, we dived at another site which had very similar geometrically cut stone. It's possible that if the Isseki site was man-made, there could be other areas around Yonaguni that would have been made by the same prehistoric people. But seeing other stones which resembled the ones at Isseki Point made me think that, fantastic as it may be, perhaps these are a remarkable creation of nature. I don't think it lessens the appeal of the place to think that they are not man-made stones. It is fun to speculate about mythical cities like Atlanatis, or Mu, or other lost continent stories though.
When the day's diving was done, we got cleaned up at the SaWes shop and I told Keizen that I wanted to go drink awamori. Luckily for me, he agreed and later I went to a great restaurant with him, the boat captain (another name I forgot, OUCH!) and Naomi. I must say that whether the ruins turned out to be ruins or not, discovering this group of people was the real find of the trip to Yonaguni. I could not have met better hosts, more gracious or more fun. Keizen is a lot of fun to drink with, and he introduced me to the proprietress of the restaurant, who he said is "not the mafia Godfather, but the Godmother of Yonaguni." She was incredibly gracious to me, giving me not one, but two bottles of special awamori. I wanted to drink them with the crew, but they would not let me open them up. (Awamori is a potent alcohol that is unique to the Okinawan islands. There were many distilleries throughout the Yaeyamas, but I never made it to visit any of them. The bottle I was given was the brand Awanami, which is made in Hateruma, and is difficult to purchase because it is so sought after).
Haning out with the SaWes crew was one of my best memories of the trip. I don't know how to repay them, but hopefully one or more will come to LA to visit sometime.
I want to write more, since there is time at the moment, but the proprietress of the internet cafe is finishing cleaning up and the 9pm closing time is approaching. We are listening to Japanese R&B/hip-hop again.
Some other time I will recount today's adventures on the moped and my meeting with Ikema Nae, one of the coolest women I've ever met who runs a museum out of her house and who gave me a book that she wrote.
I wanted to hang out with the SaWes crew again, but they are not to be found today. Tomorrow, I'll go on to Iriomote and hopefully more great people and cool stuff to see and do.
Good bye Yonaguni. Some of the world's best people are here, at Japan's land's end.

Yonaguni Morning

From a handwritten note:
It is 6:30am on April 8 and I am laying awake on Yonaguni Island. I just realized it is my sister's birthday, but only here in Japan. In California it is 2:30pm on the 7th.
There has been a mild wind all night long. I left the sliding glass door open at the balcony of my room and the breeze stirs the curtains. It's not like the Santa Ana winds. There's no howling, no rattling of the windows all night long, no dryness.
It's just fresh cool air.
It has been raining, and is still lightly raining now. I can see clouds drifting low overhead toward what I think is the north, which means: minami-kaze? South-wind. Maybe.
Ishida (who I met at Ishigaki airport) told me that if the minami-kaze is blowing, diving at Isseki Point is called off.
I am supposed to walk down the road to meet the SaWes crew at 8am to find out what the diving shedule for today will be.
I have been awake since about 2am? Time difference. Jisa. I brought a little alarm clock, but I can't read it in the dark because the LED backlight sucks.
I was falling-over tired as I ate dinner last night. It was only about 9:45pm. Extremely early for me. In LA, I am not usually tired until about 2am. After one beer and some champuru ("Goya ga nain desu. Yasai chanpuru ii desu ka?"), I was ready to put my head on the table and sleep. I don't know the name of that restaurant; I chose it at random after walking up and down the streets. I wish I had taken more photos of Sonai. Inside this place was quiet, which suited my mood. A couple guys sat at the bar drinking, and a couple sat on tatami in another corner. There was a bookcase full of manga and girlie magazines and a wall-mounted TV was showing a samurai TV drama. I saw rows of awamori bottles over the bar and I wanted to try some, but felt like tonight was not the night.
The cook looked like he was about 25, but a big husky guy. I thought he was the only one working there, but an older woman appeared later and served me my food. I guessed they were from the islands because physically they looked a little different from mainland Japanese people. Hard to describe how. Maybe more like a South-East Asian mixture? More island.
Yonaguni is called Donan in the local language. I am not sure I have heard any of Yonaguni's indigenous language spoken yet. Most people I've met here are from mainland Japan.
What I do not hear, thankfully, is cars. Because there are very few. Most are very small pickups, that look to be about half the width of standard ones on the streets in the US. Occasionally, I hear the rip of a moped engine, but this morning nothing but the ocean crashing against the rocks, rain trickling off the corrugated metal roofs of houses, birds calling to each other, and the gentle hush of the wind.
Even though I planned this trip with the intention of doing active, adventurous things like diving the ruins, I don't think I've felt this good in over a year, just sitting on this balcony, as the sunlight gradually filters through the diffuse grey cloud cover, brightening the day, listening.

Yonaguni Dive Log

Dive 1:
April 7
Double Arch (point 9 on this map)
Is the clock set wrong on my computer? Did I really go in at 4:05pm?
Temp was 75 F - Warm !
Using all my own gear from home, minus the hooded vest.
Max Depth 82 feet, avg depth 42 feet.
Dive Time 31 minutes.
Visibility 60-100 feet? Very clear water.

There was a film crew aboard the boat, practicing for underwater scenes to be shot in the following weeks. It is a horror feature I am told. The female actor and the director are from Taiwan. Various other crew from Hong Kong. Many are fluent in English. The assistant director went to college in New York.
I cannot believe that, with LA only 2 days behind me, I am in Yonaguni Japan about to scuba dive with a film crew.
Aratake Kihachirou is on board to assist them, sometimes holding on to the body of the film director, who was a novice diver. Aratake is known as the discoverer of the Isseki Point ruins site, and is a Yonaguni native. Although Aratake was leading the film crew divers, I mostly stuck by Kitako's side, a young girl recently moved to Yonaguni from Nagasaki.
I do not recall any extraordinary fish. The water was dark because it was very overcast.

Dive 2:
April 7
Great Hall (point 5 on this map)
In at 5:22PM. (Really that late?)
Max dept 60 feet, avg depth 45 feet
Surface interval 44 minutes. (We dropped off the film crew at Kubura dock, and Rui and I went out alone).
Dive Time 27 minutes

Rui chased an umigame - sea turtle - and I tried to snap some pics of it, but my camera was hard to unclip and I fidgeted with it a lot. I need to figure out this whole camera rig a bit better, with spare batteries and a strobe light.
Dive times are short, and we are diving with tanks filled to only 2800 psi, rather than 3000, but I still need to work on air consumption. There were not a lot of crazy exotic fish on display - I think I only got one decent shot off - but we checked out cool geological formations, which is what this place is really known for.

Dive 3:
April 8
Anchor Point (point 8 on this map)
In the water at 9:45am.
Max depth 85 feet, avg depth 52 feet
surface interval 15 hours 55 minutes
Dive Time 33 minutes

It's raining today.
My buddy is Naomi. I developed a bit of a crush on her. She's from Hokkaido, and has been in Yonaguni for only a few months (5, I think..?)
She points out some animals to me in the rocks. A shrimp. Some strange worms under a rock that writhed around like they were mating that Naomi could not identify and I could not photogragh well (surge makes it hard to keep still enough to get a decent shot off, especially one requiring macro focus). The currents here are not the legendary strong ones I had feared from reading other bulletin posts, but maybe they are weak right now. Rui says they are nothing to really fear.
I don't remember many extraordinary sightings. No eels, or octopus, or hammerheads. We are diving a lot around the same area.
Each time we surface, the staff serves delicious sweet barley tea. Many people shiver and complain about the cold. "Samui!" Even Nao, who is from snowy Hokkaido. I don't feel cold, even though it is pouring rain, but the barley tea still feels good going down.

Dive 4
April 8
Ishibutai (Stone Stage) (point 20 on this map)
In the water at 11:15am.
Max depth 61 feet, avg depth 39 feet
surface interval 55 minutes
Dive Time 37 minutes

We went further east up the south coast of the island, toward Tatigami Iwa (which translates to Standing God Rock, because it looks vaguely like a human shape standing up out of the waves).
We moved from the first site pretty quickly, slapped new tanks on and jumped in without wasting any time. The waves were pretty choppy so the crew tried to get everybody off the boat quick. It was a little tough with the film crew on board. Rui and Keizen hate them.
Nao and I split off on our own again, first stopping by the Jacques Mayol memorial plaque. Mayol was the famous free diver whose life was ficitionalized in the Luc Besson film, "The Big Blue." He was friends with Aratake and spent a fair amount of time diving around Yonaguni.
Rui mentioned that there was a stone here that resembled a human face, perhaps carved by ancient people like the ruins of Isseki Point. I failed to notice it. Haha.
However, the rocks here DID appear to be carved into right angles, much like the rocks at Isseki. Which made me think that the ruins might not be man-made. If the right-angled rocks were in several places, it was possible that they could be naturally-ocurring. On the other hand, if they were man-made, it's feasible that the people who made them could have traveled another few hundered meters west and carved more trenches.
Over some awamori, Keizen said that Aratake carved the ruins. Haha.
Keizen Rocks.

Dive 5
April 8
Isseki Point - The Yonaguni Ruins (point 17 on this map)
In the water at 3:05pm.
Max depth 50 feet, avg depth 30 feet
surface interval 3 hours, 12 minutes
Dive Time 35 minutes

This is it. The ruins site. This is what convinced me that I had to come all the way west to Yonaguni for diving. There's so much information on the web speculating on what the origins of these stones is. I think the guy I met at Ishigaki airport, Ishida, said it best; "Jibun no me de kimete." The currents were nowhere near as bad as I'd expected, based on other peoples' accounts on blogs and bulletin boards. Maybe it was a light day. But it did get quite strong near the east steps of the "Main Terrace." All divers had to grab on to the bottom "step" to get a look at the stones. When we were ready to move on as a group, we let go and one by one drifted away over towards the east side of the structure, where we got a good look at the "Turtle Monument." They are mysterious stones. I don't know what to make of them. I am no more a geologist than a marine biologist: I am often unable to identify the types of fish I see, just as I am ill-equipped to make much a of judgment on the source of the geometry in those rocks.
In the narrow crevice between the "Twin Pillars" after passing under the "Gate," we spotted a moray eel. Unfortunately, my shots were blurry and without flash.

Dive 6
April 8
SaWes Palace (point 7 on this map)
In the water at 4:44pm.
Max depth 54 feet, avg depth 38 feet
surface interval 1 hour 3 minutes
Dive Time 32 minutes

This was to be my last dive in Yonaguni. Sad. Hopefully only until next year.

Yonaguni-jima - Westernmost Point in Japan

Success.
Left Okinawa Hontou (main island) at 8:30am. Decided on skipping the comp breakfast at the Hotel Gran View since I am such a morning straggler. I did not want to risk missing my plane and fucking up my whole travel itinerary.
Gran View was a great convenience I must say. Being able to roll outta bed, jump in the shower and hop on the monorail, one stop away from the airport was precious.
Once in Naha airport, I got to play the part of the smelly foreigner since hoofing it around with all my shit on my back had me breaking a sweat. Not to mention, I was a little tense trying to figure out where I needed to go, where my luggage needed to go, and whether it was gonna follow me when I changed planes on Ishigaki-jima (the word "jima," as in　"Iwo Jima," translates to "island." Ishigaki is one of Okinawa's many rittou (small, separate islands). Ishigaki is one of the most populated of the Yaeyama island group.)
The plane touched down on Ishigaki without incident and I made my way through the tiny airport to the boarding area for departing flights. My flight to Yonaguni was scheduled to leave an hour later, at 10:30am. I sat for a while by myself in the mostly empty waiting room. Most of the other people who were there boarded the plane I had just exited and returned to Naha. Although I have been feeling pretty good about interacting with people in my broke-down basic Japanese, I have some difficulty understanding the loudspeaker announcements made on the planes and in the airports and on trains. For the most part, this does not present a problem as in many places they are conducted in English as well, but it seems that the further out one goes here in Okinawa, the fewer translations one finds, hahaha. Which is absolutely fine. However, as the small group of Yonaguni-destined travelers sat in Ishigaki airport, some announcements about our flight were made that I could not quite follow. 10:30 was fast approaching. The designated boarding time came and went. I noted that a flight to Hateruma, scheduled to leave before ours, showed as cancelled on the overhead monitor. The weather in Ishigaki was quite overcast, with a very low cloud ceiling. I was beginning to infer that weather was delaying the flight, but I could not make out any details of the annoucements.
While I was sitting there, wondering what the fuck was happening and what I should decide to do about it, I noticed a guy sitting a few rows ahead of me with an underwater video camera housing. I nervously decided to approach him and strike up a conversation in Japanese. He was a pretty cool guy from Shibuya in Tokyo. He said he comes to Yonaguni to dive a lot and had been to Isseki Point (the famous ruins - more on that later) a few times. We talked about Hammerhead sharks - Yonaguni is famous for them - apparently they do not attack people - and he helped me figure out what was up with the plane. Apparently, Ishigaki was the only outlying island with low cloud cover, so the plane had re-routed to Miyako to wait the weather out. He figured it might be an hour or so that we would have to wait.
An hour came and went and we were still sitting there, thinking of things to discuss in broken Japanese. He planned on being in Yonaguni the same number of days as me, but on the 10th, when I would head to Iriomote, he would have to head back to Tokyo and work. Ugh. So, in some ways he had more riding on the weather, although I did travel further to get there.
After about three hours, around 1:30pm I think it was, we got the great news that the clouds had lifted enough for the plane to land. My new friend, who had introduced himself as Ishida, almost leapt with joy. It would have been a retarded detour, I must say, to hang around an Ishigaki airport-area hotel until the next morning to see if the weather would clear. Luckily, that situation was avoided.
Now, my only problem as I had explained to Ishida who looked bemused, was that I still had no idea what or who would be waiting for me at Yonaguni airport, if anyone. I had checked my mail at the hotel that morning, but had received no word from the American dive company that had assisted me in making arrangements for Yonaguni. I had decided that I would simply make my way to Sonai, where most of the diving shops seeemed to be located, and inquire (in broken Japanese) about going out. As soon as we de-planed at Yonaguni kuukou (airport), I saw about 5 or 6 dive companies waiting just outside the baggage claim area, waiting to pick people up. I grabbed my stuff and approached a guy holding a sign for SaWes, the dive company I had read the most about while doing internet research for the trip. SaWes is owned and operated by a guy named Aratake, who is kinda the scuba godfather of this island. The name SaWes actually stands for "south" and "west," Yonaguni being the south-western-most island of Japan. (Hateruma has the distinction of being the southern-most).
The guy holding the SaWes sign was a guy of about 30-something. (This was Keizen, aka "Joe.") I hit him up with broken Japanese and he answered me back with broken English. We worked it out. I hopped in his van and we headed for SaWes. I was the only one of about 30 people who had arrived to roll with him.
I explained, in bad Japanese, that I had attempted to make arrangements already, with an American dive shop on Okinawa hontou, but had been unable to make a confirmation. As it turned out, I had found my reservation, as SaWes was the dive shop that had been reserved for me. Since my plane was late, we stopped first at Irifune. I think it is a hotel that is also owned by Aratake. They hooked me up with lunch, which was needed at that point. I slammed down some eggs, fish cake, some kind of seaweed something-or-other, and another bowl of noodles that resembled last night's souki soba quite a lot. (Souki-soba, or Yaeyama soba - a close variant - turned out to be very prevalent, and I think I ended up eating more of that dish than any other, although I got to sample a wide vareity of dishes, including raw beef liver and pig's face). It was great, but I knew I was gonna go diving right after, so I was afraid to really chow down.
Sure enough, while I ate, I filled out some paperwork and then was told it was time for "junbi" - preparation.
We drove over to SaWes and I was shown to the shower and got suited up. I was the only diver in sight this whole time. I figured all dives for the day had already finished and they were taking me out alone. As it turned out, we drove a short distance to Kubura port and jumped on a boat that was bustling with (what I thought were) Japanese divers. I had ample opportunity to look like an idiot novice diver, running late, not speaking the language well, and fumbling with my equipment, being rather out of practice with diving in general. Not to mention, I took note of Aratake-san sitting on the boat. He pointed at a tank and told me to get set up. I felt like the guy who was holding shit up, sitting right in the way of everything.
The "Japanese divers" actually turned out to be a film crew. I tried to ask if they were doing a documentary. Isseki Point's ruins have ignited a lot of interest and controversy as to their origins and it seemed feasible to me that a TV crew might want to do a special on them. There was just too much hustle and bustle to have those questions answered at the time though. (I found out the following day that the crew were all from Hong Kong and Taiwan, and only a few spoke Japanese, but most were very fluent in English. The film is a horror/thriller whose title is roughly translated as "Lost.")
We set out and as soon as we left the port, I was clutching the side, hanging on tight to avoid falling on my ass and being swept off the boat by the swells we were coasting over. I would guess they were about 6-10 feet in height. Good enough size to cause the boat to pitch pretty dramatically. I'm used to day trips to Catalina, not the East China Sea.
I had two guides really. But I forgot their names, isn't that fucked up? I forgot everyone's name, which makes writing this blog really adjective-heavy and proper noun deficient. I apologize to the SaWes crew for being retarded like that... I have just had too much sensory stimulation to retain names.
Anyway, one of my guides was a girl from Nagasaki who has only lived on Yonaguni for a week ! (...This was Kitako...). And the other was a guy who was really cool and did a second dive with me alone and helped me get settled at my minshuku. (...This was Rui...) The guy is pretty fluent in English, which makes life way easier. Even though it is fun trying to use Japanese, I think the ocean surge and whole dive boat experience would have been a lot more overwhelming if I also did not really know what the fuck people were saying. So that calmed my nerves quite a bit, just to know what conditions we were about to jump into.
We went to the south side of the island, to a spot called the Twin Arches (I think). The film crew did giant stride entries off the back of the boat and Rui and I backrolled off the side. We did not meet at the surface as we often do in California, but just plunged right on down and grouped at the bottom. That plunge was fucking crazy. I was still halfway thinking to myself, "What the fuck am I doing here, about to jump into this crazy foaming ocean?" when I found myself upside-down in bubbly warm ocean water on my way down to about 50 or 60 feet.
The site was an interesting geologic structure, with a few arches (hence the name), which we made our way under and through. Visibility was not the greatest, although it still beats shitty days at Catalina. The sky was dark with clouds and the water was a deep rich dark blue. I imagine that if the sun is penetrating well, there are probably a lot of colors in the fan corals and rocks and stuff we saw down there.
Fish-wise, I saw some that looked like Moorish Idols - pretty gigantic ones - and some other stuff that I would have to use a book to identify. There are some large ass fish out here though. Nothing totally amazing today - no hammerheads. I did see a tortoise on my second dive of the day. And Rui and I explored more caverns and tunnels.
All of my underwater photos are sucking so far. The first dive, I had my camera too locked in to my BCD to be able to free it up and compose decent shots. I tried twisting my body around and snapping a few. Aratake-san led us through a tunneled area, where once we emerged from the other side,we could see our spent air bubbles rising like a curtain from the cracks in the rock. That was cool and I think I managed to take a shot of it.
Anyway, diving was fun and it got me tired. Tomorrow, I don't want to forget my motion sickness pills. I forgot them today and lucked out that I did not want to vomit. The boat pitches pretty strongly on the way out and back.
Right now I am in Sonai's only ( as far as I know) internet cafe. It is actually a store, but there are 2 PCs here that are hooked up to the internet where I can rent time. (On my last day, I chatted it up with the proprietress of the place and hit it of with her. Her name was Kotoe Tajima and she worked as a computer consultant in Yonaguni, in addition to running the shop. She has a sister in the States and she introduced me to her brother, Yoshikazu, over sandwich and a coffee in the back of the shop. What is REALLY cool is that she has a blog that is all about YONAGUNI ! Please check it out at this link. ) It feels like it is getting late - it is 9pm. I am sorta afraid that the propietress might want to close and I am holding her up,but she has not said anything to me. I am also worried that everything else around here will close soon, if it hasn't already. There is a market I need to go to to pick up some morning munchies. ( A few days later I got some excellent chocolate bread at this market, but it was brought in on Thursdays from Ishigaki and they were out when I went for more. ) And I should go see about dinner, although I am much more tired than hungry. ( I ended up eating in a small restaurant with a sit-down bar, some tables and a tatami mat area. Some dudes were parked at the bar drinking and I ordered goya champuru, knowing that it was Okinawa food and not really knowing what anything else on the menu was. Unfortunately, the chef told me there was no more goya and no more tofu, so he'd cok me up some "yasai" (vegetable) champuru instead. Champuru is basically a stir-fry, famously made with goya - a bitter gourd - and SPAM ).
My minshuku is called Adan (a minshuku is basically an inn... there is a private room with a shared bath and shower... Adan is a cactus-like plant that grows all over the Yaeyamas). I already tried the bed and it's comfortable. I'm gonna be getting back to it soon I think. I'm here two more days. Tomorrow is diving - hopefully weather is good and we make it to Isseki Point, as that is really the main point of this trip. However, the last day I hope to rent a moped and just buzz around the island. There are some cool cliffs and lighthouses and stuff. The waves crashing on the rocks are pretty amazing - especially when you are getting a close-up view of it from the boat. I'm gonna try to get some better photos, but no promises where the underwater ones are concerned. I've already found a link to another diver's photos of Yonaguni that are fantastic, so if mine suck, just look at hers. I saw many of the same sights, but cannot match her photographic skill, so check them out. Also, she shot more of Sonai, which will give you an idea of what the town looks like.
I think I have heard the same Christina Aguilera song three times now in this internet cafe, so that is officially my cue to sign off and go in search of food.
More tomorrow or the day after.