Letter to the Editor of any Fashion Magazine

Pardon me if I sound trite, but I have a fashion beef with anyone who is past puberty and can't do up their necktie properly. I recognize that there are various styles and ways to knot a tie: windsor, half and full; four-in-hand; the shelby knot, etc., and there are any number of patterns or widths that come in and out of style, but there are some things that cross the boundary of proper jugular accessory rules.

I'll admit to committing plenty of fashion faux pas over the years myself, so my concern is more one of compassion than anything. I feel terrible when I see someone with a coffee stain on their tie, or when someone has tried to iron it. But, the worst is "the shortchange", when someone has obviously shortchanged themselves in the length department. Every now and then I discover someone who has overcompensated the girth of their knot (probably a rookie windsor convert) in sacrifice of their tie's arrival anywhere even remotely near their belt buckle. They'll try to keep their suit jacket fastened shut to conceal their shortcomings but it is as obvious as a tri-colored toupee to me.



On the other end of the spectrum you have "the swinging crotch cover" created by the man who doesn't seem to understand that the necktie was not intended to be tucked into his pocket with his car keys. Not to mention the chances skyrocket that he will pee on his tie if out drinking at the pub after work (how many alleged "oops, spilled my beer" claims have you felt compelled to believe?).




And then there's my personal favorite: The Dilbert Tie :)

Broadening my horizons

At work, I have been receiving a steady stream of files every day for translation or editing. Sometimes people need things done right away or in a few days time, but people have been reasonable about what one person can do, so even though I receive assignments from a total of about 40 people, some of whom are in the office and some of whom email requests from our overseas offices, I have been able to coordinate all of it reasonably well; I keep a spreadsheet file of my "to do" list with the basic facts of each assignment.

The real challenge is keeping up with the jargon and situation/conditions for all the different projects. I get documents for a new waste disposal contract in Thailand or a capacity building project for a mineral analysis lab in Laos or a geo-spatial mapping study in Montenegro - the range of projects is pretty wide! Some of these documents seem so complex and foreign at first glance that I can hardly imagine how I will comprehend the contents at all. But after some investigation into the scope of the project and a few searches on the internet (Google Scholar searches and digitized book searches, not to mention the always handy open-source wiki entries for quick explanations on just what things like "arc welding" are all about) I have been navigating my way through some very intriguing reports.

When I first accepted this job, I was pretty sure I would have the opportunity to learn more complex Japanese, but in addition to that, I'm finding these previously intimidating subjects I knew nothing about to be the real eye openers. Hmm, or it could be the coffee. :)

Bright Idea

A front page story in The Japan Times covered the first national ban of traditional incandescent bulbs, the kind tested by Edison in 1897 and which has been the standard ever since. The country to ban the bulb, in exchange for the more-efficient compact fluorescent bulb (CF bulbs), is not the U.S. but Australia. The aim is to phase out incandescent bulbs by 2010, which will cut Australia's GHG emissions by 4 million tons by 2015.

The Aussies aren't the only one's taking this small, but significant, step as California and New Jersey legislators are also following up on this very "bright idea".



Read more here: (click)
history of the incandescent bulb: (click)

I'm a minority!

According to this article (click) by the Pew Research Center, only 8% of Internet users blog. Of that number, over 50% are under the age of 30 and half of those remaining live in the suburbs. So as an Internet user who is not under 30 and lives in Tokyo, I am a minority.

Well, that and the fact that over 98% percent of the population here is Japanese ;)

An ode to locomotion

I suppose if a lost commuter pass is any way to judge reality then I am thankful. Heck, I'm thankful anyway.

If you said a prayer for me to get my pass back, then you should know the answer to that prayer is snuggly tucked in my pocket (I thought clutching it in my fist for toooo long was a bit uncouth).

While I am relieved , I must admit I feel some disappointment that, among the 48,000 Americans living in Japan, there isn't one more living in my part of town, commuting the same way to work, the same age as me, and who's first and last name starts with the same letters as mine. Oh yeah, and who coincidently lost his commuter pass on the same morning as I did. Well, really, I'm sure stranger things have happened.

Anywho, I got my pass back!!! Woo-hoo! :)

Working 8 hours

They say that time flies when you're having fun. So I figure I must be having a ball because I don't seem to be able to get anything done.
;)

an evil twin!?

It won't be easy keeping my fingers crossed, let alone my hands clasped in prayer, for an entire day, but given the circumstances, I'll take all the hope I can muster.

Today I spent 30 minutes searching for the station Lost & Found center. Ironically, I can see how completely-lost items might end up there, even if only by sheer chance seeing as inanimate objects don't have a mouth with which to ask for directions from about four people like I do.

Sadly, my train pass still seems to be lost for the time being. The strange part is that there's evidence that a pass which was lost on the same day, at the same time, between the same stations that I commute to and from, for the same one-month period of February was lost by a non-Japanese person who's first name starts with "Ste" and last name starts with "Sun"... but they insist that the remainder of the name is NOT the same as mine, and therefore might be someone else's pass.

Conclusion: I must have an evil twin somewhere out there!!! :O

p.s. I've left a trail of bread crumbs to the Lost & Found office and plan to make it there again tomorrow evening. Stay tuned.

Fingers Crossed

Last Thursday, as I practiced my speech for Toastmasters on the train, something occurred right under my nose that would screw up my life for a little bit. Well, okay, just a small portion of my life, but still...

With all the people who take public transportation in Tokyo it's common to get a monthly train pass, which are available at major stations for periods of one, three or six months. There is a considerable discount involved in these passes, so I bought mine on the first of the month. Since there are a few ways I can get to work, I decided to get a one-month pass and try out a route with slightly more transfers, but one which goes through Ikebukuro and Shinjuku, where I can hang out with friends on the weekends.

Then on Thursday, while I was preparing for my Icebreaker speech (see previous post), I had my speech written on a piece of paper in my pocket, and pulled it out to practice while on the train. Well, my train pass must've been enveloped in the folded page somehow, because at some point if was no longer in my pocket. When I exited the train and fished around in my coat for my train pass I almost instantly realized what must've happened. The problem was that whatever train I had lost it on was now headed out to the end of the line and I was starting work in 10 minutes.

I called my office to let them know what happened and warn them that I might be a few minutes late, and then I spoke with the station manager. Although he tried to be helpful by calling a few stations, in the end he said there wasn't much he could do for me. He recommended I check with the station where I bought the train pass in a few days time, because that's where it would be returned if someone found it and turned it in.

I headed to work and found my boss in the lobby of my building. He was just about to head over to the station to see if I needed any assistance. Well, that right there brightened my day a bit, but I still knew I was going to have to make a lot of phone calls and run around a bit if I wanted to get my train pass back, and that was really dependent on whether or not someone would turn it in. My boss encouraged me by saying that since my name is Western there was a good chance that someone would turn it in since, for one, they would feel bad for an American who lost his train pass, and two, they would easily be spotted using it and could get in trouble, therefore lessening it's value. Haha, go figure!

Well, on Sunday Jing stopped by the Ikebukuro station Lost & Found and they said a train pass had been found and would be delivered to their office on Monday. BUT, they said the name on the pass was slightly different, but the route and usage period was the same. So fingers crossed, they didn't mistakenly reported the name on the pass and it will be mine!

Toastmasters

Last year I read an article about a woman who started her own business collecting and redistributing recycled ink printer cartridges. I was especially struck by her story for a few reasons. For one, the article noted that she had lived in Japan for a couple years. Also, the recycled ink cartridge business is one of the innovations of environmental (re)manufacturing that took place rather quickly so that it's fairly widespread now. That meant that she probably had to move quickly to set up her business, which must've involved some rather bold decision making. People often say to me that my decision to come to Japan and work was rather bold, but I still feel I could improve my overall instincts for this; the kind of immediate ability to react when it really counts, such as the leadership the woman in the article displayed.

I also noticed in the article that, prior to starting her business, upon her return to America, she experienced considerable difficulties from what is known as "reverse culture-shock". To help her feel comfortable back home again she explored some groups she might be able to join that would allow her to speak with people and force her to gain more confidence. She joined an organization known as Toastmasters (wiki), a public speaking club that encourages its members to learn by doing and think on their feet. While I was reading about this woman's experience to join this club, and gaining the sense of leadership to start her own business, I remembered a friend of mine here in Tokyo who was part of this same organization. Indeed, the international branches of Toastmasters rival their American counterparts (I counted 80 clubs in Japan alone).

Soon after reading the article, I contacted my friend to get the details about Tokyo Toastmasters with the intention to join myself. I have often thought about the reverse culture-shock I'll face upon returning to America someday. I've been in Japan almost continuously since 1998 and, even though I try to keep up on the news and trends, inevitably there will be an infinite number of things I'm unfamiliar with.

The ability to deal with unknowns is something we all possess and do daily, however the fluidity and confidence we express when up against the numerous challenges in life will differ from person to person, and this is largely due to how well we've prepared ourselves for these situations through training, or simply learning by doing. Wanting to take advantage of any opportunity in advance, I thought the idea of Toastmasters was on the mark. I figure everyone experiences stage fright at some point in their lives, and it's not much different from culture-shock. The audience members are all representative of unknowns and your ability to communicate and convey a clear message is imperative to your success.

In any case, I had just moved to Tokyo a few months before and wanted to get involved regularly with a group here. So, last Thusday, after attending a mandatory three sessions before becoming a member to familiarize myself with the club, and then a few more meetings to be inducted and get a place on the main speaker roster, I finally made my icebreaker speech. There are over 50 active members of this division and many of them were in attendance, so it was quite a large audience, made up of mostly Japanese fluent in english and a percentage of foreign residents in Japan, not to mention that this time there were about five guests attending. The time limit for the speech was 4 to 6 minutes +/- 30 seconds, and I clocked in at 6:24 with the speech below. Enjoy!

Icebreaker Speech

In the old days, train conductors used to lean out from the train before it would depart and shout to those remaining on the platform, "All aboard!" Here in Tokyo, it is reported that some 7 million people commute on the trains every day, and sometimes I think every single last one of them is riding on my train. I've seen reports that say the rush hour target capacity ratio is 150%, which means that 5 people "stand" in one square meter of floor space. Just to give you a comparison, that's like holding a dinner party on a tatami mat. I've even heard of capacity ratios upwards of 250%, which would mean that if you have size 25 shoes, someone is probably standing on your feet. Some days it's so crowded that I'm convinced we are breaking a world record, or at least a bone or two.

Every morning I commute for approximately 54 minutes, which includes three transfers, the majority of which is on the Chuo (Central) Line. I'm lucky though because I travel away from Tokyo, so most days I can get a seat for the majority of the ride. It's really not a bad commute at all. Actually, 54 minutes on a train is nothing compared to the flight between Tokyo and Chicago, my hometown. It takes 12 hours, and I usually sit in economy class. Believe it or not, until a few years ago, the flight used to take 15 hours, but then someone figured out you could fly a bit further north and save 3 hours. We were all kicking ourselves that they didn't make that discovery earlier, and in economy class we were literally kicking ourselves.

But as much as I like to travel, interestingly enough, the first 18 years of my life, I didn't travel much further than a few hours from home. Chicago is near the Great Lakes, between America and Canada, but pretty much in the middle of the continent and at least a day on the freeway to any ocean. So I didn't even see the ocean until I was in my twenties.

At the age of 18, the furthest I had traveled was a trip to Colorado. That was with my family when I was about 5 years old and all I really remember is being in the car for about 2 days, singing a lot of songs with my sisters, and, yes, I did ask "are we there yet" about a million times.

Yet, when I was in sixth grade, I dreamed of traveling thousands of miles from home, or if you prefer kilometers, 384,399 of them to be exact. I wanted to become an astronaut and go to the moon. At the age of 12 I first flew on an airplane by myself for just over 1,000 kilometers to attend a week at space camp. A couple years earlier, there had been a popular movie, Space Camp about some young attendees of the camp who found themselves in space for real when their shuttle was accidentally launched into orbit. Well, real space camp was nothing like that, but I did get a really nice ball-pen that I could supposedly write underwater. The problem was that the paper always dissolved too fast.

Anyway, it probably took no one by surprise that I wanted to study overseas when I was in university. One of my professors at that time had been encouraging me to participate in a study abroad program in India. I had been studying Asian history and culture for a few years, and was quite interested in Eastern philosophy. So for two months I lived in the small town of Bodh Gaya in one of the poorest regions of India, where I meditated for college credit. I got an A+ in "walking slowly and listening to the sounds of nature". It was an interesting two months to say the least.

Almost as soon as I got back from India, another professor started telling me to look into going to Japan for a semester. So the following year studied for 4 months in the city of Hikone in Shiga Prefecture. Many people said, "Oh, Hikone. There is a wonderful hot spring there. You'll love it!" Only after I arrived in Hikone did I realize that they were talking about the town Hakone, and all I would see for the next four months was an old castle... although, to tell you the truth, as a lover of history, I was quite happy with the outcome. In fact, after I graduated university, I immediately returned to Japan. This time I was hired by the Ministry of Education to teach english in a Japanese high school. I was placed in Kusatsu, to which once again people promised a wonderful hot spring. And again I was to find out that there were at least two towns called Kusatsu in Japan and I was in the one withOUT the hot spring spa resort.

When I was almost 22 years old, I finally had the chance to see the ocean for the first time. That was in Enoshima near Tokyo and I had flown over the ocean 5 times already at that point, but had never gotten close enough to the ocean shore before. Ironically, within five minutes of stepping foot into the Pacific Ocean, I was stung by a jellyfish - No kidding!

I've been living in Japan for about 9 years now, but if you consider the 108 minutes I spend on a train every day, then I guess I can still say I travel a lot.

To prepare for this Icebreaker speech, I had to act as a train conductor in a sense. All of these memories that I have were like passengers on the platform waiting to get on. I yelled "All aboard!", but because the target speech capacity time is six minutes, it looks like some of the memories will have to wait for the next one.

Thank you.

for Olivia

My good friend Olivia suggested that every good blog features a picture of homemade soup! Hence, here's a bowl of pseudo-Spanish squash & sausage soup I made the other night. (^_^)v

This past week, Jing and I have been cooking quite a bit actually. Since I started my new job, I bring my lunch to work. So naturally we make quite large dinners and then put leftovers in our lunch boxes to take to work. We went out a couple weeks ago and got some lunch containers (called bento in Japanese). We also bought cloths to wrap the bento in, known as furoshiki, which you can see in the picture.

Cuban Climate Change

I hate to be overly pedantic but I just read in a recent article in Newsweek ("Cuba's new Guiding Star: Beijing") concerning the structural reforms imminent in Cuba, which it describes as a country "semi-paralyzed" until an ailing Castro kicks the bucket, (crude, I know, but that's the tone of the article).

The writer, unfortunately, makes a rather crude metaphor (from the eco-geek p.o.v. at least) in the last sentence, which reads:

"Until [Castro's younger brother] Raúl finds the political will to take these long overdue steps [for reform], Cuba will remain in an economic ice age, waiting for its last dinosaur to die".

Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe the world of the Jurassic period had no ice caps and an average global temperature of about 22 degrees Celsius (see image to the right). The K-T extinction event, which is credited for the extinction of the dinosaurs and which took place between the Cretaceous and Tertiary (or Paleogene) periods 65 Ma (million years ago), is believed to have been caused by a meteor that crashed - ironically - very near Cuba, a theory supported by the discovery of the Chicxulub crater. Kilometers-high tsunami would have crashed into what is now Cuba, wiping out any life there, including any prehistoric dictators (wink wink).

The problem with the metaphor above is that one would assume that the dinosaur extinction took place due to the onset of a glacial period, when, in fact, it was more likely caused by multiple meteor impacts and volcanism that belched CO2 and SO2 into the air. That would have created worsened climate conditions, but contrary to what the above metaphor suggests, temperatures rose.

The onset of the following "ice age" didn't take place until millions of years later - about 40Ma - and didn't intensify until the Pleistocene period (image) which was just 3 million years ago. So, it may have been a matter of some 60 million years, but I don't think Cuba can stand to wait that long for it's "last dinosaur" to expire (and, in which case, we should call Castro a "dead clade walking", a wonderful term coined by Chicago U professor, Jablonski). So, in the end, the Newsweek article will probably have Cuban bureaucrats cheering nothing more than, "Viva El Presidente!"

other interesting links:
Timeline of Geological Timescale
Climate change, greenhouse gasses
Paleocene-Eocene termal maximum (sea surface temps of 23°C/73°F, approx. 55 Ma)
Snowball Earth hypothesis (750~580Ma)
World Factbook: Cuba includes a nice map :)
Sue at the Chicago Field Museum

Anybody ever considered living in a small Micronesian nation?

Imagine the beautiful beaches of Nanuya Levu (think 'Blue Lagoon') or the laid-back village life in Peleliu...

The past week I've been editing a document about Micronesian countries like Fiji, Samoa, Palau and the Marshall Islands. The report is in excess of 100 pages, discussing problems related to the disposal of large, bulky waste (gotta love the use of the term "bulky", eh?). You would expect this to be a dull document, but I'm totally digging it.

I remember being overwhelmed (with boredom) when, years ago at a JET conference, a presenter rambled on about the (unbelievably mundane) subject of speech pathology, so I know I run the risk of sounding like a nut myself, but haven't you ever wondered what someone does with a broken refrigerator when they live on, say, a 4-mile atoll made of coral no more than 2 meters above sea level???

(*If your guess is that they raid their next-door neighbor's fridge, you might not be wrong, but there is a statute of limitations on that, as anyone who has raided a friend's fridge will know.)

Well, reading about the beautiful scenery of these island paradises and imagining lounging on the beach or spending a lazy day in a breezy Samoan house (these are structures without walls, known as fales, which, if you'll forgive the spelling discrepency, could make a brilliant pun), especially when you are currently wearing a suit and sitting in an office, makes one consider vacationing in Korkor or Savai'i. The population of some of these countries is little more than my hometown, and since they are made up of numerous islands, at least one I read about has only 23 residents - and is politically considered its own state! Indeed, there's already a booming tourist industry in Fiji (don't worry, the military coup ended last month). So as one could imagine, protecting the scenery, which vacationers travel long distances to experience, should be a top priority.

That's why it's sad to think that when up to 2000 cars are scrapped every year in these countries, that the parts will be salvaged, but the car body left to sit, virtually stranded, on the island for the foreseeable future (anybody know how long it takes for iron to decompose?). The sad fact is that it's too expensive to remove items like this without compactors, and neither the technology nor the infrastructure, not to mention space, exists in these places.

For millenia native peoples lived on these archipelagos, and until about the 1980s, there was almost no waste at all; things were almost entirely produced and consumed domestically. They had what is referred to (by us eco-geeks) as a "sound material cycle"; something that developed countries are trying to "re-develop" presently in our societies. Take the Marshall Islands for example, a group of islands Europeans came across in the late 18th century (you probably guessed it, by a captain named John Marshall - a pretty interesting character, by the way). This string of islands is well known, unfortunately, for Bikini Atoll where the "Captain Bravo" hydrogen bomb testing took place. Nonetheless, the CIA World Factbook states that the best hope for this nation's future is tourism (anybody wanna visit Majuro or Kill?). These small island nations don't have much in terms of capital when you look at it from a "globalization" perspective, but they now have the demand, and by golly, if those people want automobiles and air conditioners then someone will find a way to sell it to them.

To be fair, a large portion of these items are also imported as gifts from family members or friends who have immigrated overseas. But in either case, once these items find their way to the island and are repaired repeatedly for all they're worth, then the islanders are stuck with them. So, the answer to the above question is really more of a rhetorical question than anything. What happens to a broken fridge in Fiji? In fact, the natives have (one would hope) started asking themselves this very question.

new pastime

I reckon "pastime" is the right name for it since it's basically whatever we happen to be engaged in as time passes. Mobile blogging; I can hardly think of anything better... at the moment at least.

Having looked out the window of my morning train only to discover the alleyways of Tokyo - they should seriously reconsider the phrase "wrong side of the tracks" since neither side of the train yielded exciting results - this morning, before exiting my abode, I set up a blog mailer that promises to revolutionize the world wide web, or at least my morning commute.

The Hunt and the Hunted

You may know him as a headhunter, but I recognize Mr. Ishii as a knight in a drab, grey suit. This short post is an ode to the guy who got me the job!

He was relentless at arranging interviews, first for a job with a financial institution making investments in grassroots environmental projects related to renewable energy (didn't pan out unfortunately) and then for a couple translating jobs, resulting in my current position at a company with a large overseas division specializing in environmental consulting.

The thing is, it is so rare for someone to take the time and make the investment in developing the labor force. Mr. Ishii and the others at his organization are doing so one person at a time, and making a big impact in those people's lives. He certainly did me a service, and in return, I plan to do the best job I can.

My immediate surroundings

This morning on the train, during the five minute ride between Ikebukuro and Shinjuku, I realized that, since I was crammed in the carriage with the other morning commuters, I hardly had a chance to notice the scenery out the window as we passed it by.

So often a train ride involves the following:

• reading the advertisements above the luggage rack and doors
• reading the advertisements hanging from the ceiling
• reading someones magazine, newspaper or text message over their shoulder
• trying to keep my balance
• wondering if my stop is coming up
• thinking about some of the smells I detect on certain mornings, depending on who is standing next to me
• etc.

This morning I recalled that when I first arrived in Tokyo, Jing and I would often walk from our closest station, Kanamecho, to Ikebukuro. It only takes about 10 minutes. But these days, since we have train passes, we tend to jump on the subway which takes 2 minutes. There are plenty of interesting shops and things to see in that 10 minute walk, however, and we got to know the neighborhood pretty well during that first week (we found ourselves walking to Ikebukuro daily to buy plenty of odds and ends).

So, when I find myself just so absorbed in reading advertisements on the train (granted, this is good Japanese reading practice), or looking at my watch wondering how many more stops before I transfer, I need to remind myself that outside of that carriage I am racing past someones local bookstore, a dry-cleaners, countless restaurants, real estate agents, ramen noodle stands and residences; all of this becomes a blur during the oft repeated morning commute.

I need to remind myself once in a while to see the bigger picture and take a look out the window (given I'm not on the subway, but above ground of course).

Back to the books

Well, after a few years of graduate school, I'm back to the "workforce". For a few months I was getting to know Tokyo pretty well via a 50cc scooter, making deliveries mostly to international finance groups in Otemachi. During those mornings, I would greet the guys as they stumbled out of their office or away from their desk, and I would be pretty happy that I was outside for most of the day, not stuck in some office building. For three years I sat at my desk at grad school tapping away at my computer or jotting down notes in a classroom or pulling out my hair before an exam.

Now, as of this month, I'm back to my deskwork, and the subject matter of my job is largely similar to what I was studying in grad school, at least a good deal of it. In the first two days I read a report on international geospatial information standards, a presentation on landslide disasters in Sri Lanka and meeting minutes from a Japan tour by Thai officials. A good portion of my job requires me to research a lot of different topics, and if I have a little extra gumption, I'll do a quick wiki search on a few related topics that catch my eye. In a sense, I feel like I'll learn more on the job than I ever did in grad school.

So my Otemachi delivery days seem to be over. Although it was fun while it lasted, I guess it's back to the books.

Entrepreneural Survival Skills

I came home in the afternoon to find a post card in my mailbox that I had addressed myself. I had written this about a month previously at the Tokyo Immigration Office, and the arrival of this post card meant that my visa application had been processed.

The following day, after my part-time job, I borrowed a 50cc delivery scooter from work and drove over to the immigration office. The post card stipulated that I bring my diploma with me to prove my previous status as a student, and also to confirm my graduation date.

The problem arose, as I expected, when they saw that I had graduated the previous Spring. Under most circumstances, the application for visa status change is made while one is still enrolled in school, but in my case I had had another 18 months left on my visa, so I remained in Japan after graduation (a bit of a loop-hole I took advantage of). But now the loop-hole was looking like it might snag me, as the immigration official sneered at my application. She called over a senior official that took over my case, and after some discussion and making me wait for 15 minutes with a sweaty number ticket in my hand, he told me I would be able to receive my new work visa. But before I could receive the final documentation in my passport, I needed to buy a stamp from the convenience store on the first floor for JPY4,000 (about $35). I thanked them profusely and made my way to the convenience store.

(*I suppose the stipulation that the stamp be bought in a separate place is to prevent any handling of money, and probably has to do with avoiding attempts at bribery. Hence, the convenience store located on the first floor of Immigration or nearby, where applicants must buy stamps and exchange them for the proper documents which are placed inside one's passport. This is, I suppose, a fine example of red tape.)

Upon reaching the stamp counter, I dug through my wallet and pockets to find I had no more than 3,980 yen. I was told I couldn't use a credit card and there was no bank in sight. I thought maybe I could take the scooter to a bank nearby, but it was already 4:30 and Immigration would be closing very soon. The only choice I had was to take part in one of the oldest professions known to mankind: Entrepreneurialism.

I told the cashier I'd be right back, went to the front of the store and started scanning the halls. The only thing I had of value that I would be willing to part with was a pen that I had gotten as a promotional gift from an online shop. It had ink in four colors and seemed like it would be worth at least 20 yen, so I held that up and stopped a guy wearing a tie.

"Excuse me sir," I spoke in the most polite Japanese I could muster, "but I am 20 yen short. You see, I need to buy a stamp for my visa change, and I just need 20 yen more. Now I have this pen, you see, and I wonder if you'd like to have it if you could just give me 20 yen!!"

It was the best pitch I had, and luckily the guy went for it. Turned out he was an immigration official himself and was just down at the convenience store for a quick snack. "Here you go. You can keep the pen though, I have lots at my desk," he said.

Not wanting to just take the money and run, I offered again, "Well, this one does have four colors!!" Again he declined my offer and decided he'd feel better to just make it the handout that it was. I thanked him again and took myself, my 3,980 + 20 yen, and my pen and went back to the cashier. A moment later I was running up the steps with my stamp, and 10 minutes later I was the proud recipient of a one-year working visa, complete with re-entry permit.

Well, obviously I was pretty happy with myself for getting the 20 yen, but when I arrived home, I went through my application papers from a month before, and noticed there, amongst various forms, was a 4,000 yen stamp I'd bought last time I was at Immigration to be used on this occasion. Doh!!