What's new, Kitty Kat?

15 months in this great nation, and while I'm yet to manage a haircut or master the lingo at the most basic of levels, I have immersed myself fully in Japanese culture. I've ikebana-ed, learnt to make sushi, seen the sumo and most importantly, consumed a vast quantity of Nestle's greatest product, the humble Kit Kat.




May I present my Top 13:

We'll start with the most transparently Japanese of the flavours: Green tea (matcha). This one's available exclusively in the all-nite convenience store based in Narita Airport, hence the hideous Vietnamese bedspread pictured beneath.


The colour is mould and the flavour too slight, when you consider the potential deliciousness of the marriage of bitter matcha and sweet sweet cocoa.


Sakura matcha, or, in layman's terms, green tea with a hint o' cherry. Exquisite. I was almost mauled to death by Narese deer while walking through a herd and ripping one of these babies open. Available in Kyoto, and only in cherry blossom season, boo.


Wasabi, a Shizuokan speciality. Could definitely have used a bit more, urm, wasabi. Bit of a swizz this one. With colouring almost identical to its tastier older sister, the Matcha, it follows suit in flavour, with perhaps the merest whisper of artificially sweetened mustard aftertaste.


The Daddy of them all: This one's dark and delicious and comes in a Chunky-style bar form. Adults only.


Bitter Almond, seen here struggling to survive a Japanese summer. I know just how it feels, but I'm not half as delicious.


From the sublime to the plain disgusting: the European Cheese. A whole lot more effort has gone into producing a suitably authentic French pong. The smell is wholly realistic, but the taste, well...


Inside, hundreds of the foul tasting buggers, thousands, millions, breeding, multiplying like a horrific fungus, like bacteria like, well, cheese.


The ghostly pallor of emmenthal. Still, one whiff of this and its sayonara to European homesickness.


A change of pace now, to the malteaser-shaped "Big/Little". Note the confusing use of both English and Japanese in the product name.


Sweet potato, in bar form. The texture is somewhat akin to that of the Holy Grail, the Kit Kat Chunky. Not available in Asia. Let's take a moment to reflect on the pathos of that last statement.


Still, look how happy I am to have found one, and on the streets of Akihabara too, more commonly known for its electro gadgets, doleful-eyed, latterday geisha maids and Sexy Sex Shops.


Waiting for the last train back to the hostel, the Midnight Munchies make their presence known, and I just can't wait any longer.


Long enough to take a pic of the Almond, in bar guise, which I appear to be holding in my prosthetic hand.

Strawberry Shortcake. Short, saccharine and ultimately unfulfilling.


Pretty pale pink, though.


But let's get back on the chocolatey horse of goodness with this double whammy: the Cola/Lemonade twin pack.


With a rather anaemic brown colouring, the cola could use some work, much like the non-fizzy kind of penny sweet cola bottles. The Lemonade however is a taste sensation.


Back to the balls, of the Custard Pudding variety. The lily has officially been gilded with this disconcertingly phosphorous offering.


Less chemical in taste, and with possibly my favourite packaging of the bunch, the plain, no-nonsense, dark choc of the Semisweet is a winner.


And for the bonus round - Coconut M&Ms, all the way from Guam! Slightly soapy aftertaste. My quest for the Coconut Kit Kat continues.


Alas, the Soy Sauce, the Miso, the Ginger Ale and the Royal Milk Tea remain illusive, but that shall make them taste all the sweeter when they are mine,

I'm a bit cold

A handy survival guide to winter in the northern hemisphere.

When you're 600m above sea level, cycle to work and spend your days expelling breath in little fluffy clouds, extreme measures are called for.

Receding hairline? There's an app for that...

Exhibt A: Steve Jobs
As sunglasses are to Bono, and luscious locks were to Sampson, the simple, clean lines of the Jet Black poloneck are the source of all Jobs' power. The fact he comes across as a cheap French mime artist are purely a bonus.

The polo neck is to be worn under all your clothes (over a vest top) lest a whisper of flesh fall prey to the wicked winds of the west. It's a little bit beatnik, a little bit existentialist and a whole lot hideous, but as we will see in Exibit D, fashion is really not on the agenda here.

Exibit B: The Beanie

Jason Mewes and I share many striking similarities: a love of Prince; a forehead you could project a movie on; the long, mustard-coloured tresses; and a predilection for 7/11s (I like the snacks). But let's focus on the head gear.

Note the jaunty angle of the hat: the beanie comes smoothly down almost to the eyebrows, covering the large shiny forehead and making a feature of the much overlooked eyebrow region. The hair can be utilised as a makeshift scarf.

C: Now is the winter of our discontent

But not of our discomfort. Now is the time for trans-fats, artificial colours, MSGs and Red Dye #2. Accept no substitutes. Chase that junk food dragon til your insides turn all gooey and warm and glowy, or you pass out into a sugar coma, and wake up incapable of ingesting solid food. Broccoli tastes of Cold.

D: The Layered Look

Less of a "look" than noisome eye pollution, do not try to fool yourself you are rocking wunnuver-kind vintage. You are almost certainly wearing clothes that old ladies died in. You look decidedly dumpy. If you are wearing less than 5 layers (including underwear), you have failed.

The worst aspect of this particular "vogue" is that it looks suspiciously like you've made an effort. We're mixing patterns, eras, cuts, fabrics - I hesitate to include "styles" in this list, as there are none on display - it's a sartorial nightmare.

Be warned, this is not the "Frasier's Crane's apartment" of dressing. Don't think that by having one carefully chosen patchwork jerkin and mixing it with contrasting plaid bolero you can somehow tie everything together with that sassy pair of antique feather earrings. You look dreadful. But you are warm. Now you know how those old people feel who have to chose between heating and eating each Winter. Dressed like this, however, you do not deserve to eat.

Note Betty's long loose hair, similar to Mr Mewes', covering both ears and neck. It's much too cold for the smart, professional, working gal bun. A fringe is also sensible, and may negate the need for The Beanie. This in turn is negated by the fact that you already look appalling. Glasses can add anything up to an eighth of a degree in extra warmth.

E: Reading material

The three volume Victorian novel is perfect for this time of year. Calm yet convoluted middle class life, nonsensical character development (is it development to get married?) and pleasingly implausible plot twists, all set against the backdrop of a drafty Gothic castle/turbulent moor/damp squalid debtor's prison.

Anything Russian is also good. At least Lara and Yuri are colder than you are. People also get cold in Dickens, usually under conditions of forced labour and/or domestic abuse. Shakespearean tragedy offers a wealth of ritual blinding, matricide/suicide/homicide, hanging and really annoying timing coincidences, all of which are quite cheering under the circumstances

F: Coping mentally
Got a thermometer built into your alarm clock? If you do, you're probably the kind of guy/gal with a compass in their shoe, and I take my beanie off to you, but I digress, Get Rid Of It.

Likewise, stop checking weather updates. It's Cold. Deal with it. Constant mental reinforcement of just how cold you are (as though you need reminding) is not going to help. The temperature in the corridor is cheerfully displayed at a brazen 8 degrees. and it's only going to get colder.

G: How to stay warm in class

• Stand as close to the windows as possible and bathe in the rogue pools of sunlight that collect on the floor.
  
• Allow any heat residue from the sun to soak into your back. Do not allow the students to pull the curtains. This is your only source of warmth, and some of them are wearing shorts.
  
• Play "Where is the Draft Coming From?" and reward yourself with a pinch on the wrist for each correctly identified open window/door. Bonus points if you know that closing it is a mere formality, that the offending door/window will be reopened in a matter of minutes and is a complete waste of time.
• Think very deeply about your most embarrassing moment. A recent one. Really project, now. He was asking out the girl behind you. You will glow a lovely warm red.
  
• Laugh very, very hard. Similar result.
  
• Think about sex. Ibid.
  
• Prowl around the room stealing students' hot water bottles/hand warmers. They will think it's funny and cute. Again, half of them are still wearing shorts.
  

In between classes, you can run between rooms to avoid the scalding cold. Sing as you go. Students will fall in line behind and trot merrily after you, transforming you into a sort of harlequinned Pied Piper (this is dependent on you having got the Layered Look right).

Think warming thoughts. Think of the two pairs of tights, tracksuit bottoms, hat, scarf, earmuffs and two pairs of gloves you will don to cycle home, through the snow. Home to your 1x1 two-bar heater, rattling aircon and sporadic, earthquake-inspired power cuts.

If all else fails, make a blog post about how dreadful your life is and melt the frozen tears into pools of joy. If nothing else, it will guilt trip your friends into posting you chocolate.

Les Patineurs

What's cuter than Japanese kids?

Japanese kids skating!

A Sunday afternoon at Yokohama's open-air rink, starring a few overprotective parents and their appendages.

See? You don't need to be actually touching that filthy germy ice to get the full experience. It's a biological hazard.


I'm not your god damned accessory, mother


Never leave a man behind.


Laugh now, but you'll all be wearing braces come Fall/Winter '12.


Nice girls don't get the corner office. Let's take her down.


You promised you wouldn't let go!


The "I didn't fall, I'm just prepping for a handstand" pose. We've all been there.


Hey Tiffany, let's totally get lattes and bitch about our tennis instructors after, m'kay?


Little Tarquin simply adores coming out on the ice, when he's not studying Swahili and needs a break from his fencing lessons.


When I'm cleaning windows...


It's no good. We're going to have to amputate. But think of the money you'll save on shoes.


One does not tie one's own skates.


The Bunny Knot can be taxing from this angle.


This is giving me the worst helmet hair.


Left together, right together, FOCUS, aaaaand Blades of Glory!


I can sit here ALL day.


Outta my way, amateur!


Muh ha ha, little does she know about that patch of salt ahead...

Sushi class