In my last post, I wrote about my experiences with homelessness.  Looking back, I’ve slept in so many different places that often times, I wake up confused about my surroundings.  At other times, I wake up with a smile as I rediscover where I am.  Today, I’m stepping back to take a lighter look back at some of the more interesting places I’ve spent a few nights in during the past year.   Enjoy!

The Hello Kitty Room

I could have chosen another room, but for the sheer amusement factor, there was no way I was going to miss this one.  I also had a chance to get in touch with my feminine side – double bonus!

The Musician’s Pad

I rented this beautiful place from a couple who took off to visit family in Argentina.  Some of the food in the fridge was incredibly old (close to a decade past the expiry date!), but it was really fun cleaning it up.  The mad scientist in me ignited as I discovered a bottle of decomposing anchovies nestled amongst other jars of food so old, that whatever once grew in there, died long ago.  As I mixed the organic goop in the compost, I seriously hoped something would come alive or at least fizz.

Fridge contents aside, the musician’s pad had some serious soul.  It came complete with a large, vinyl eclectic music collection, to which I danced interpretatively to every morning.   Further entertainment came in the form of free instruments to practice on.   To top it off, the owners were really warm, friendly people, and I believe their home was filled with the same energy.

The Artist’s Loft

This was my by far my favorite place I’ve stayed in the past year.  I sublet an old loft in an artists’ building.  And it was really old.  So much so, that from the outside, the building looked like it had been abandoned for a decade.  The building interior was aging, unfinished wood, which created a smell reminiscent of my childhood music conservatory.  There was almost never hot water.  I had no stove – only an electric plate (I went mostly raw vegan for the month).  I would trip a circuit breaker if I used the hot plate simultaneously with any other appliance, so I resorted to my camping stove frequently.  The building was right beside railroad tracks (watch out when using the emergency exit!).  The floors creaked.  The stairwell had the permanent smell of stale marijuana…

Of course, none of this mattered, and it actually only added to the appeal and enamour of the loft.  I really loved the space – it was beautiful, warm, and serene.   It was an extremely creative space, and I was able to accomplish some great work here.  To top it off, silk acrobatic curtains hung from the ceiling, allowing me to pick up a few tricks.  This place definitely suited me, and I would live here again should I ever settle.

Photos on Facebook.

Suk 11 Hostel

While backpacking through parts of Southeast Asia, I didn’t have any particularly memorable accommodations other than Suk 11 in Bangkok, Thailand.  The dimly lit, wood hallways were furnished in such a way that it felt like I was walking through a narrow alleyway in a Vietnamese village.  The narrow boardwalk leading through the hallways hovered over mirrored glass and pebbles, giving the illusion of walking over shallow water.  The rooms were nothing much to write about, but everything else made up for it.  You really have to be there to really experience it.  Conveniently enough, Suk 11 is also a short walk away from a popular nightclub, the Bed Supper Club, which actually is a bed-themed restaurant by day.  Needless to say, I squeezed in a lot of dance practices there.

The Hotbox

This was probably the worst place I took up residency in over the past year.   I had no place to stay, and it was winter, so I quickly settled with the first place I could find.  At first glance, the house was a quaint Victorian near a beach with an amazing German shepherd to accompany me.   Unfortunately, my housemates were all chain smokers who smoked in the house.  Fortunately, however, I had my trusty minus 10 degree sleeping bag, and so every night, I would sleep with the windows opened.  When I think back, I might as well have gone winter camping instead!

The Mint Condition House Of Horrors

This house looked very appealing on craigslist and at the doorstep.  It was a sizeable mansion, and I was renting a large room in it.  As I approached the house, the owners came to greet me, and whisked me away to the rear entrance.  As I passed an outdoor garden full of fake, plastic perennials, my suspicions slowly became aroused.  Once I entered the house, I realized what was up.  The interior was really sterile.  I mean more-than-a-hospital sterile.

The IKEA lamp in my room was still in it’s packaging – yes, complete with the instructions tightly wrapped around the light shade.  More plastic flower arrangements peppered the house interior – I’m guessing real flowers were deemed too dirty for the immaculate floors.  The not-so-new fridge still had all its original protective plastic sheets on it, interior components included.   Everything was protected.  Every item on the kitchen countertop, cups included, had a coaster under it.   And, most evidently, all hallways and stairways had layers of towels protecting the floor from any scratching.

I didn’t stay here long.  It was a bit eerie.  I either felt like I was being watched or that I couldn’t touch anything.  When I met the other temporary tenants, I could tell that they also sensed the same horror – the idea that we all might be lambs waiting to be slaughtered.  Sigh.  It was such a far cry off from The Artist’s Loft.

Think I’m over-exaggerating?  I’ve put up more pictures of this surreal house at the bottom of the post.  Click here to go to the post if you’re reading this post from an email.

Rags to Riches

From a murky basement to an upscale two-story penthouse condo, I wrote about these places in a post here.

World’s Smallest Room

I wrote about this room briefly in another post.  Hong Kong is well known for its super-expensive real estate.  After a last-minute dance opportunity materialized,  I was forced to quickly find accommodations in one of the densest buildings in the city.   Needless to say, the room was tiny.  It fit a twin a bed with a narrow space to shuffle to the washroom.  It kind of reminded me of my brother’s closet, where I actually spent a few nights in during a time of transition.  The redeeming factor was that I was forced to go out every day.  See the bottom of the post for a photo!

Side of The Road, ON The Road

I’ve had to pull a couple of nights in my car on a few occasions where I couldn’t find a campsite or it was too late to set up camp.  Truth be told, I’ve never really gotten used to it.   Since my seats don’t recline flat, I often sleep in uncomfortable positions that result in a stiff neck the next morning.  So, the few times where it was possible, I preferred pulling out my Thermarest mattress and sleeping bag and settling on the road, off to the side of the car.    The road is firm and flat.  My sleeping bag is warm.  Conclusion: the sleep is better on the road.

Two years ago, when I first went temporarily homeless willingly, it was a bittersweet pill to swallow.  I had quietly left Toronto with little support, and actually, to a bit of criticism.  As I tucked my -10 degree sleeping bag over myself in preparation for a cold night in my car, somewhere along the interstate between Wisconsin and South Dakota, I confess I felt a little alone with a tinge of self-pity over my life situation.

I wasn’t used to not knowing where I would be the next day or week.  I wasn’t used to not having a familiar place to return to.  I wasn’t used to the uncertainty.   I wasn’t sure how long I could pull of such a lifestyle or if I had made the right choice.  I wasn’t used to being in the full driver seat of my life and having so much control over my time and location.

So there I was, watching the snow fall on my car, lost in a moment of doubt, wondering if the next days, weeks, and months would lead to something fruitful…

…

Fortunately, it was a short-lived moment because I remembered, this is what I wanted.

I wanted to pick up and leave off, not weighed down by a long rent lease or mortgage payments.

I wanted to live somewhere else in the world.

I wanted to know what life was like for other people, outside my familiar surroundings.

I wanted the freedom to go wherever, whenever, I pleased.

That was my first taste of that life.  And I loved it.  It wasn’t long ago, but thinking of sleeping by myself in that cold car and cooking breakfast at a Walmart picnic table the next morning sounds beautifully nostalgic now.  It was the start of discovering some purpose in my life, and that I was moving towards that unknown purpose.

Since then, if you’ve followed me on Twitter or Facebook, you’ve probably seen that I’ve moved around quite a bit, often finding a place to stay, but sometimes not.  Every time I cross a border and fill in the entry card, I’m not sure what to write when I reach the “Address of Accommodations” box.  I’ve been homeless at times on two continents since that first night in my car and must have slept in over 50 different places in the past year.  Let me set something straight though.  I’m not glamourizing being homeless because I know it’s not always great for those who haven’t chosen it.  Being homeless may sound bad to most, but in my case, it’s not.  It’s like a side salad that comes with my choices, and I accept it graciously.

Many posts ago, I turned a few heads when I wrote that if you want something, you have to want it really badly, almost like it’s a life-threatening situation.  Really think about that again.  If there’s something you want, what are you willing to do for it?  What comforts and routines are you willing to give up?

I see this situation all the time now.  I see someone who wants something really bad, gets a momentary adrenaline pump, and genuinely seems to want to go for it.  And then, reality, other people’s reality, kicks them in the butt.  “Reality” people bombard the dreamers with their “expertise”, tell them the flaws with their plan, or raise doubt in the dreamer’s mind:  It’s already been done.  What are you going to do when you come back?  How are you going to survive? No one’s done that before.  (To me, the last statement sounds like opportunity!)

Alas, as soon as the dream has come, it just as quickly disappears.  The rookie dreamer realizes he/she can’t give up their security, lifestyle, or even creature comforts to pursue a dream.  They sink back into their routines.  The dream becomes taboo to talk about – regret brushed under the carpet.  I don’t blame them.  Once you get stuck in a certain familiar lifestyle and routine, it’s hard to enact change.

Perhaps it’s not natural to experience so much upheaval and uncertainty.  For many people, even a mild disruption to their daily patterns – a subway delay, bad coffee, daylight savings time (the lose-an-hour spring one) – warrants a mild panic attack or generates enough cause for a rant.  Maybe unpredictability shortens your life, but I’d choose a short, well-lived life over a long, mediocre one in a heartbeat.

Look, you don’t have to liquidate your house and assets and leave like I did to pursue a dream or to live on purpose.  But what about eliminating some excess in your life?  How about trimming some of that fat, like the time wasted accumulating things or trying to please everyone in your life?  What about negotiating more free time for yourself?  What about giving up a few hours of sleep or TV each night to work on something important?  What about seriously breaking your old programming, your old routines, and your definition of reality?

The late Steve Jobs said, “Don’t let the noise of other’s opinions drown out your own inner voice.”   Digest what Steve said for a moment.  Then turn the switch on.

Now,

…

… define your reality.

…

…

Next,

…

… believe in it!

At the request of some of my readers, I’ve put together my ultralight backpacking (with style!) list.  Click here to see the full list.  I’ve put some time into it, and it’s pretty detailed, so take your time going through it.  I plan on updating it continuously, and hopefully, pruning items off the list!

There is no delight in owning anything unshared. – Seneca

Welcome to Hong Kong.  Population: 7 million.  Welcome to Yangon.  Estimated population: 6 million.  Welcome to Tokyo.  Population: hovering around 13 million.  Welcome to Bangkok.  Population: 12 million and rising.

In the past few months, I’ve travelled through Asia, making pits stops in some of Asia’s most populated cities.  I’ve played Frogger crossing Bangkok’s chaotic streets in thick hazes of automotive exhaust.  I’ve crammed myself immobile into a Tokyo rush hour train.  I’ve disappeared into the confusing, dusty streets of Yangon while trying not to disappear altogether into the fathoms of the gaping sidewalk potholes.

It all started on an impromptu extended stay in Hong Kong, where population density felt the greatest with its glittering sea of skyscrapers.  Being in crowded cities is not new to me, but this time around, I found myself in a situation observing people and culture more.  To start, I had checked into a windowless, roughly 4-metre squared room in the infamous Chungking Mansion building, where an estimated 4,000 people live.  It was a mind-numbingly sterile, white cell requiring me to squeeze by my bed and hop over my backpack just to get to the bathroom, where the toilet and shower are conveniently one unit.  Not particularly comfortable in such tight quarters, I took to the streets, only to find myself shuffling shoulder-to-shoulder with strangers on the busy sidewalks.  There seemed to be no escape.

What could I do?  Smile, observe, and continue to do so for the remainder of my trip.

Maybe you’ve never been to a big Asian city before, but I’m sure you’ve experienced crowds of people in other parts of the world, whether it be New York, London, or Sao Paulo.  Or perhaps while leaving a popular concert en masse.  Being stuck in a nightmare traffic jam.  Waiting at the Driver’s License office on a Friday afternoon.  Yesterday, I was at the Toronto CNE, Canada’s largest fair.  During a rainstorm, like everyone else, I ducked into the Food Building and soon found myself squeezing into a long table eating lunch amongst a table of strangers.  And then I heard someone exclaim something I’m sure all of us had said at one point in our lives:

Why are there so many people?!?

Back in North America, where I often live, we have plenty of  space which has been abused to abandon.  In fact, this month’s issue of Toronto Life magazine is entitled “Exodus To The Burbs: The Houses Are Bigger.  The People Are Nicer.  The Commute Doesn’t Suck. “, though to be fair, the author actually moved to a smaller town, not a sprawling Toronto suburb.  However, if I had to define culture-shock, it wasn’t showing up in the packed streets of Hong Kong.  It was visiting an enormous suburban Walmart on my first day back in Canada while visiting my mother.   It was such a stark contrast from where I had came from.  I wandered the gaping aisles observing the space in awe, thinking of the golf-course sized parking lot outside, the huge bulk items that were meant to be stored in the huge homes nearby … and yet outside, the 6-lane roads were gradually jamming up with cars as rush hour approached.

It’s a crowded world.  The fact is, none of us chose to be here.  But we’re all here together.  Realistically, none of us have a right to more space than others, so it’s best if we remember how to share.  Here’s some pointers on how to make the most of it:

1. Share space.  I remember meeting up with one of my dance instructors, Lydia, in a particularly busy Hong Kong cafe.  We spotted two vacant seats at a table only occupied by a couple.  We sat down in the seats and the couple made a little extra room for us.  When they vacated, another duo came and instantly replaced them.  When Lydia and I left, our seats were filled again.  Sitting by yourself?  It’s the norm to share a table there.   In Tokyo, the culture is somewhat different, so tables are not shared.  However, during busy times, you eat your meals quickly to make room for the other customers or park yourself into a ramen (noodle) stall with other single diners.  Consequently, recognize that you don’t own a public space, even if you arrived somewhere first.  Someone arrives late to a movie and sits in the seat in front of you?  That’s what the seat was designed for!

2. Wait with patience.  Lineups are common in Asia.  As I’ve mentioned before, lineups in Japan are nicely formed long lines with space in between people.  In Malaysia, lineups sometimes form in tight, precarious zig-zag patterns, with the potential of someone cutting in front of you!  Line cutting aside, you more or less have to wait the same amount of time in both lines.  The bottom line is that waiting is common in Asia when there are so many people, and the locals accept that.  When I first arrived in Toronto, I remember there was a very minor backup boarding a bus as a man struggled to carry his luggage on.  I took notice that everyone behind him was rubbernecking impatiently on the holdup.  Perhaps our patience here is shorter so we don’t experience waiting quite as often.  Take notice of your waiting tolerance.  Then extend it as best as you can.

3. Accept and avoid complaining.  It’s easy to dislike cities like Yangon because it first appears as a dirty, crowded city.  The citizens there know that their city isn’t the best in terms of appearance, but they still make the best out of it.  Maybe your city is cleaner, but you simply have the fortune of better infrastructure, allowing the population impact to be hidden better.  When you leave the city in bumper-to-bumper traffic for the summer long weekend,  there’s not much you can do when your camping destination is packed to the brim with other people doing the same thing.  It’s going to be noisy – that’s just what happens when there’s lots of people.  Notice that they simply want the same thing you want.  You’re in the same boat.  Enjoy what you can or schedule your life outside other people’s hours.

4. Observe.  Once you’re able to accept, then maybe you can step it up with some observation.  Take something back with you.  Appreciate the differences of a crowded area.  See how people make the most of it and try it out yourself.  Learn something new.

5. Conserve space.  In Europe, it’s pretty much the norm to live in IKEA-esque optimized small spaces and drive small fuel-efficient cars.  It’s a shame that renting a small apartment or driving a subcompact vehicle here in North America will get you ridiculed for either 1) it’s lack of statement or 2) the suggestion that you are financially tight.  Don’t concern yourself with what other people think.  Even if you can afford a lot of space, be conscious of what you need as opposed to what you want or can afford.  Try to bring your wants closer to your needs.  Less is more.  Trust me.

6. Use the temple of your mind.  Eckhart Tolle wrote in The Power Of Now that the one of the very few good things about money is that it can buy space.   At the same time, he also mentioned that if you can’t afford space, as Mr. Tolle himself was once homeless, you always have the temple of your mind to enjoy your space.  Meditate, stay present, and be focused.

7. Practice kindness.  Many people find big cities unfriendly, but I still see acts of kindness all the time.  Hong Kong is crowded, but people will give up their seats for the elderly.  Give up your seat, hold a door open, thank the bus driver, and say “hello!” to strangers more.  If you live in a big city and perhaps have gradually become an unfriendly walking zombie, take this time to notice your defensiveness and now work on lightening up the people around you.  You have the choice not to join the legions of the grumpy.

8. Make small talk.  Within a week’s time, I made the transition from busy Tokyo to small town Nova Scotia, where people seem to have a knack for small talk.  Try bringing the small talk into the city.  Believe it or not, small talk can turn into big conversations as you practice talking to strangers more.  And here’s a tip for single guys:  That’s pretty much how you meet women you’re attracted to in daytime situations.  Don’t worry if you don’t fare so well – the likelihood you’ll run into her again in a big city is slim to none, so give it a shot!

I don’t get to live by different rules. The same boundaries that apply to everyone apply to me. – Tiger Woods

Today’s post is good-cause themed and to start, I’d like to share a very public dance instruction video I just recorded in Shibuya, Tokyo to raise money for Japan’s earthquake relief as well as the causes below.  If you are receiving this article in an email and don’t see the video, click here to go to the actual post.

Link: Red Cross For Japan

Timothy Ferriss is also offering a dollar for dollar match on a library building project, which is a no-brainer if you’re feeling the need to make a difference.   I’ve seen foreign-funded schools and libraries built in the most remote places (e.g. 5 day trek into the middle of the Himalayas).  Trust me, they make a difference.  Moreover, his post triggered me to finish a half-written article I had sitting on my phone.

For those of you who have been following me on Twitter or Facebook, you probably know that I have spent some time in the past few months in Myanmar (Burma).  Now that I’ve left the country, I can freely write about some of my reflections from my travels, albeit I run the risk of being banned from the country.

Myanmar was beautiful to visit, but my most memorable moments were not the sights I saw but my experiences with the people there.  The Burmese people are genuinely honest and friendly, and for such an incredibly poor country, you’d discover that it’s surprisingly safe (well, except for the roads).  It was really easy to interact with the people, and I found myself sharing my dance moves with the eager youth along with putting on the occasional village-gathering magic show.

However, through my conversations, I have shamefully discovered and confess that I have taken my education for granted.  I know I’ve divulged in previous posts that I have some doubts on the usefulness of some facets of higher education, but basic education should be universally available and free to all.

In Myanmar, unfortunately, it’s not.

In a country where the average person lives on approximately $1 per day, tuition that costs $100 a year and up is flat-out unaffordable.  On the surface, primary school is compulsory until age 9 (which is well below the international standard), but the reality is that parents have to pay school maintenance fees that start around $100 and increase each year.  Families try their best to scrape enough money to send their children to primary school, but much of the population (and the people I met) do not have education beyond the primary school level.

As a result, I uncomfortably witnessed ever-widening gaps in the wealth distribution (politics aside).  A few uber-rich bourgeois.  Most of the population?  Poor and playing lapdog to tourists and the aforementioned.  And yet, I saw so much potential in the Burmese people.

Some of you may be aware that politics and a military dictatorship bar foreign visitors from doing much to help, but we should never lose hope.  Here are some links to some charities that do have their foot in Myanmar:

Burma Children’s Fund

Child’s Dream

Coming back full circle, often times we feel constantly caught up and frustrated with the small things and forgot how much opportunity and conveniences we actually have.   A few weeks ago, I noticed through the Facebook feed that back at home, Toronto was going through a 3-day heat wave, and people were furiously complaining about something that couldn’t be changed.

All the while, it was more-or-less the same weather in Myanmar, except most of us could not escape the oppressing heat into an air conditioned store or building due to general non-availability of air conditioning and daily power outages.  I wanted to tweet out a gratitude reminder, but another thing I didn’t have was Internet – it already took me 5 minutes just to load my Facebook home page due to 1990′s Internet speed-levels and general censorship.

Most importantly, our opportunities stem from the education we all have access to.  We take for granted our opportunities and don’t see them just as we take for granted our education and forget where we’ve come from.  For example, during my stay in Myanmar, I noticed that whoever could get a website running on their tourist service would have a huge leverage in their industry, yet it’s nearly impossible for the average citizen to do this because of something as simple as not having access to a computer.  Relative to us, information access there is in the dark ages.

Conversely, back at home, I hear many people lament that they don’t have a website because of their lack of Internet knowledge, but the reality is that setting up a website simply involves a credit card, a few mouse clicks, and having a hosting website do all the work.  With information ridiculously (and excessively) abundant around us, not acting is simply laziness, willful ignorance, or a combination of both.

So that’s my reminder to you.  Maybe right now, your life situation isn’t optimal, and you don’t have everything you want.  But you have the foundation.  You have education.  You have easy access to more education and information, which includes self-learning (which forms the core of my current learning).  You really do have the opportunity to create your life.  And when things do start materializing, recognize your small successes early – don’t take them for granted.  Be grateful for where you’ve come from and remember to spread the karma and give back.

On a final note, if you are planning to visit Myanmar anytime soon, I need a favor that’s a little guerrilla mission type.  I met a young girl whose father had died, could not longer go to school, and had to work.   To make ends meet, she was selling souvenirs like many other kids.  However, the day I met her, I could feel that she didn’t really want to be touting, so I parlayed our meeting into a conversation.   As I spoke with her, I was surprised at how good her English was,much of it learned from an old dictionary I saw her clutching.  I could also see how eager she was to learn more.

That night, I searched the nearest town for books at her reading level but was unsuccessful.  She has so much potential, and it breaks my heart to see it go to waste.  I want to get some books out to her.  I’ll buy the books.  You bring them to her.

The past year has been a crazy journey. Hectic at times, but I’ve enjoyed it all the way. Again, I’m extremely grateful to be out there dancing, working hard, and making inspirational videos for you to watch. Thank you so much for your support!

If the above video has no sound, please watch the video from the below player:

One’s destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things.

-Henry MillerWhat is it about travel that causes one to gain insight and see the world from a different perspective?  And, especially upon coming back, to cherish the experience even more all the while seeing day-to-day living much differently?

As an adventure traveler, I didn’t expect myself visiting Japan anytime soon because I considered it expensive and a super-safe tourist destination – I was saving Japan for retirement.  Nonetheless, the winds of change took me there on short notice, so  I decided to try living there to see what I could discover.  I was pleasantly surprised to encounter some hurdles and get a total culture shock.

All too often, when we travel, we tend or impose our values on another culture or see a place through our eyes.   This really limits our experience.  By exercising some humility, we can gain so much more from traveling.  At first glance from a Western point of view, one might say that in Japan, people work too hard, are too polite, and are backwards or closed-off because so few Japanese speak English.  To find out more, I skipped the tourist hot-spots, bought a used bike to coast around town in, armed myself with a functional level of Japanese, and did my best to integrate myself into day-to-day life to see what I could learn.

Here are some things I picked up.

Healthy Habits

Firstly, barring sumo wrestlers, obesity and being overweight is not much of a problem in Japan.  The portions are smaller there, NOT because the people are smaller – contrary to popular belief, Japanese people are not minuscule.  I felt pretty normal there, though I’m not a giant either.

Small portions combined with good dietary habits mean that Japanese people don’t eat themselves into a coma.  Instead, Japanese people tend to eat to a comfortable level – around  80% fullness, which is a fantastic habit.

Of course, times are changing as Western and Western-inspired fast food chains are popping up all over Japan.  Check out the 3-hour lineup to get into the newly opened Krispy Kreme in Osaka – It continues in a longer, separate line a block away from where you are escorted to the main lineup!

So yes, fast food is there, but it’s still not as common to be eating it as much as we do here.  Moreover, typical fast food is generally healthier such as bowl of ramen or udon noodles, or convenience store onigiri (stuffed rice wrapped in seaweed) or microwaveable bento box.

Western or Eastern, I would also add to eat slowly.   Because of a strong work culture in Japan, people do eat as fast, if not faster, than Westerners.  I see people tuck in and out of ramen shacks during the busy half hour lunch break like a quick change magic act.   So, I would add that if you do have time, eat slowly.  I used to be a fast eater.  Once I recognized the bad habit,  I began to count the number of times I would chew before swallowing (around 30), and it rather quickly developed a slower eating habit (and I didn’t have to count anymore either!).  Yes, sometimes my food gets cold or my friend finish their meals eons before me, but it doesn’t really bother me.  I enjoy my food cold and fill any “eating gaps” with my friends by conversation.

If you eat slowly, you will kill two bird with one stone – you will develop a good eating habit and you will feel full faster.  Biologically speaking, when we eat too fast, the hormones that cause us to feel full are released less and thus leads to  overeating.  More importantly, by eating slower we avoid the dreaded food-induced coma (or what some of us humorously call itis – watch Dave Chappelle to learn more) This is really important so you can stay productive after a meal!

Aside from food, Japanese people are much fitter.  Going to the gym isn’t as common there, but there’s no need to.  Walking, public transportation, and biking are the primary forms of getting around.  I was at a water playpark yesterday with my son and really took notice of the excess amount of love handles around.  It’s astonishing how much an impact living suburban living and car-dependency can cause on your physical health.

In Japan, the car is not king.  Many low-rise apartments are built without garages.   And believe it or not, I saw firsthand that you can bike until you’re 80 (or past that!).

The beauty of such good diets and fitness is that Japanese people aren’t trying to be healthy – it’s just ingrained into day-to-day life resulting in some of the longest life expectancy  in the world.  More importantly, being in good health results in a quality long life, not one confined by vehicles, drugs, electric wheelchairs, and other health-related worries.  If you don’t have the luxury of “cultural fitness”, then either consider an urban or semi-urban living environment or start building healthy habits.

Incredible Politeness

Beyond food and fitness, what I learned most from Japan was observing the incredibly polite culture.  In fact, it seems like Japan is the only polite culture left, though to be fair, there are several very friendly cultures remaining in the world.  Prior to going to Japan, I was wondering why it seemed like for every phrase I learned, there seemed to be 3 or 4 ways to say it, each in more polite iterations.  (e.g. “Thank You” – arigatou, arigatou gozaimasu, domo arigatou gozaimasu).

While learning the ropes and rules of biking around crowded, chaotic city streets, as well as “No Biking/Bike Parking” signs everyone ignored, I was never given a hard time by anyone.  I’m sure I cut off many drivers, went the wrong way, rode too slow sometimes, rode too close to pedestrians, and pedaled through an outdoor pedestrian mall when I wasn’t supposed to.  Yet I was never got honked at.  I never got stared down.  I was never cursed at.  Never given a hard time.  And this wasn’t because I looked like a lost foreigner.  Upon arriving, I picked up some clothes that looked more “Osaka”, put away my sunglasses because locals consider it narcissistic, and tried my best to blend in.

And, a polite culture naturally accompanies an honest one.  By pure clumsiness, I happened to leave both my phone and camera one morning on an express train.  I wasn’t sure how I could recover it because there were so many trains running in Japan.  Yet, somehow I knew that there was a very good chance that I would get my lost articles back and I was right.  Twenty minutes later after discovering my loss, I’m at the Central Station recovering them.

Fast forward 3 weeks later on a bus in San Francisco.  I leave my bag open and somehow “lose” my phone.  Later in the evening, I call up my number, and the “finder” requests a reward.  The finder actually turned out to be an interesting bunch of homeless vagabonds and I shrugged off the whole experience all the while smiling and humming Modest Mouse’s catchy song Float On in my head:  Well, a fake Jamaican took every last dime with that scam.  It was worth it just to learn some sleight-of-hand.

Unrelated Fun Points

Some other  interesting tidbits from Japan:

Slurping is not rude.  It’s the common way to eat your noodles, and they taste better when slurped.

Japanese drive on the left side of the road. Not the wrong side of the road

I also wondered why the most common umbrella was made of transparent plastic.  Then it rained, I bought one, and rode my bike using the umbrella like a window.

The Abtronic is still legally sold here.

Japan is not as expensive as one might think.  Sure, there are¥15750 ($150) gift cherries, ¥10500 ($100) gift melons, and other expensive gift fruit you can buy in department stores, but regular supermarket fruit costs more or less the same as North America.  Sushi is much cheaper in the supermarkets.  There’s also this nice chain I frequented, Lawson 100.  It’s a dollar food store with good quality and fresh food!

However, vintage is expensive.  You might want to take your old clothes with you to Japan and make some money.  I spotted the above pair of refashioned vintage Levi 501′s sell at the Daimaru department store for over $730.

Finally, learning Japanese is really useful because English is almost non-existent there.  A little Japanese can help a lot in terms of making friends and getting off the beaten path.  Your stomach will also thank you when you check into an izakaya restaurant.  This is not to say that Japanese don’t like English.  On the contrary, it’s all over the place in a comical “Engrish” form!  So until next time, I sign off with:  Please be released from everyday life and enjoy yourself free. May the fortunate goddess smile at you!

I’ve been sidetracked on my other projects because I really wanted to put this video out there before the year end.  I’m really happy to have the freedom to work on a creative project with no real purpose other than to put some good energy out into the universe.   It’s a video I’ve compiled from the video I’ve taken in my adventures and activities over the past few years (too bad I only started doing video a year ago!).

I’m not trying to tell everyone to do everything possible, but rather inspire people to live more freely.  If it inspires you, and you like it, please share.  I would like a video with a good message to spread out there rather than the negative conflict-driven material that often consumes us.  The song is “Everybody’s Free (Wear Sunscreen)” voiced by Baz Luhrmann.  It’s been 10 years since it came out and this is my 10-year tribute.  Again, feel free to share with as many people as possible.

All the best,

Ki’une

Everybody’s Free (To Wear Sunscreen)  lyrics:

by Baz Luhrmann (written by Mary Schmich)

Wear sunscreen.

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they’ve faded. But trust me, in 20 years, you’ll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can’t grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine.

Don’t worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 p.m. on some idle Tuesday.

Do one thing every day that scares you.

Sing.

Don’t be reckless with other people’s hearts. Don’t put up with people who are reckless with yours.

Floss.

Don’t waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you’re ahead, sometimes you’re behind. The race is long and, in the end, it’s only with yourself.

Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.

Keep your old love letters. Throw away your old bank statements.

Stretch.

Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn’t know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don’t.

Get plenty of calcium. Be kind to your knees. You’ll miss them when they’re gone.

Maybe you’ll marry, maybe you won’t. Maybe you’ll have children, maybe you won’t. Maybe you’ll divorce at 40, maybe you’ll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don’t congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So are everybody else’s.

Enjoy your body. Use it every way you can. Don’t be afraid of it or of what other people think of it. It’s the greatest instrument you’ll ever own.

Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.

Read the directions, even if you don’t follow them.

Do not read beauty magazines. They will only make you feel ugly.

Get to know your parents. You never know when they’ll be gone for good. Be nice to your siblings. They’re your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.

Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard. Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft. Travel.

Accept certain inalienable truths: Prices will rise. Politicians will philander. You, too, will get old. And when you do, you’ll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respected their elders.

Respect your elders.

Don’t expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund. Maybe you’ll have a wealthy spouse. But you never know when either one might run out.

Don’t mess too much with your hair or by the time you’re 40 it will look 85.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it’s worth.

But trust me on the sunscreen.