Sweet Sixteen

4 days from now, the first of the month. 9.37pm.

Somehow, people always think that this is something special. That there should be a big celebration or something. Maybe even that this is the year of love, of peace, of fun, laughter and joy.

And maybe it is.

Y'know, being in a group of 4 where your birthday is 1 day from another gives you an interesting outlook. But honestly, I think I'm one of the few who is friends with another whose birthday is just one away, and one of the fewer who is such and still knows two other friends who are like me and my other friend. And I'm one of the fewest who go out with said 3 friends every once in a while.

And then, y'know, there's all the other friends whose birthdays range from the start of January to the end of August, from the 3rd of August to the end of December, but who really cares about them that much. >_>

Such funky (honestly, I can't think of a better word) coincidences aren't commonplace. But then again, my parents have the same birthday too. I know two teachers whom we tried to matchmake had amazingly near birthdays too. And I do wonder when your birthday is at times, even if out of personal curiosity.

Yet somehow, the days to the first just seems amazingly ordinary. And just on a hunch, the days after the first will probably be just as ordinary.

Maybe this feels a bit ordinary to me, but then again, what do people expect out of this anyway?

Out of curiosity and remembering that my other two friends were three minutes apart in birth, I just asked my mom casually when my birth hour was. And just for a short moment, mom and dad were talking about 16 years ago, how my dad left the hospital at 2030 to find out at 2137 that I was born. A surreal feeling, no doubt. Am I a blessed child to live in this household? Perhaps. I wonder; is this answer too rude? or just... well, nevermind.

I don't know, but everything about this year just has a particularly serene tone to it for me. Maybe it's the people I know. Maybe it's the things that I face. Maybe it's the things that I've grown a liking for.

But this is a rare time where serenity feels so extraordinary. I wonder how long this will last.

A simple confession

Martin: And what is it that troubles you, Miss? Why do you sob?

Luini: St. Valentine's has cursed me badly. A Godfather drink please, dear bartender.

Martin: That's a strong cocktail, Miss, and I rather you not drink that. What's that in your hand? I can help serve a more fitting drink.

Luini: This.

Martin: Broken chocolate? And the valentine...

Luini: Will be disappointed when I present this to him. Can't you do anything?

Martin: Miss, I am but a bartender. But do give me the chocolate. I have a good idea.

Luini: And what is it?

Martin: Simply revitalizing your feelings. First, mere milk, heated at the flame while your chocolate begins to melt to form Cioccolata. The Alexander will do nicely for a good cocktail, but since it's Valentine's, let's change Brandy to... Amaretto.

Luini: Why Amaretto?

Martin: Do you know its origin? Da Vinci and his student were once asked to paint a Saronno church with frescoes. The student, knowing the sanctuary was dedicated to Mary, decided to paint the Madonna. What he lacked however was a model, and more importantly inspiration. And finally, he found both in a young widowed innkeeper living nearby the church. When the painting was finished, the innkeeper gave Da Vinci's student a simple gift out of affection. This simple liquer, Amaretto, is that from this beautiful legend. Your Alexander for your valentine, Miss.

Luini: ...thank you. It's very warming.

Martin: And your valentine, miss?

Luini: Has served me this beautiful drink. Thank you. Might I ask one last question?

Martin: What would it be, Miss?

Luini: What was the name of Da Vinci's student?

Martin: ...funny you should ask.

Three Drinks, The Second

Earl: Albert, I've been thinking about it.

Albert: About what?

Earl: What you said the other day. And guess what? I agree. But I remember something. You didn't answer one of my questions.

Albert: And what would that question be?

Earl: Are you still yourself after all this? Is that cup of coffee just a reminder of the world's cruelty? Or one of the many other things that make up who you are?

Albert: Then what would you want me to answer?

Earl: Nothing much, actually. I got the answer myself.

Albert: Oh? Do say.

Earl: You were right when you said the world changes. You were right when you said we change. But when you said those, you were half wrong.

Albert: So I was correct and wrong at the same time? Go on.

Earl: I shan't touch on that for now. Instead, let me ask you a question, Albert. Try to answer even if you aren't sure if it's correct.

Albert: I'm here to listen.

Earl: If there was a drink out there that truly signified that you have matured, what would it be?

Albert: You're asking me my own question? Do I not have my own answer?

Earl: Indeed you do, and I have heard it. Now you shall hear mine.

Albert: Then what is this drink, Earl?

Earl: This simple cup of tea, Albert. I've done some thinking, and I think I have an answer to your question, but more importantly I have an answer to my question. Look at this little bag. A bunch of small little leaves in this small little bag - gives you a rather insignificant impression of it, doesn't it? Add the hot water, stir and give some time to let it stay in the boiling water - and you have this wonderful cup of tea you see before you.

Albert: And how does this answer our question?

Earl: You said that maturity was recognizing the pain in the world. The bitterness of the coffee testament to that, and the slight bit of sugar that provides it beauty contrast and complements. But what is recognizing? If we just acknowledge the change of the world towards this painful present, what is done? We change with the world and turn into mere beings among beings. Look at this bag, Albert. Just a simple ordinary teabag with little significance to the eye, perhaps even a sore. But add it in hot water and you can see it truly serve its purpose - It has not succumbed in any way, but rather the water has been changed by this small bag into a beauty drink. The water is always hot - what man shines from changing a merely lukewarm world?

Earl: All this in a little cup - and more. Tea, this international drink, has completely different tastes depending on the region, and certainly has no globalized form ready to drink in stores. Be it bitter, sweet, minty, or sour, all tea share one thing in common - they refresh. Perhaps we can only truly be ourselves when we affect the world around us instead of being affected by the world around us? Don't you think so? A far more satisfying answer than mere acknowledgment, is it now?

Albert: I may think so.

Earl: Then, would you like a sip?

Albert: I think a toast suffice.

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Meh, rush ending ftl. It wasn't my intention to write purely one story about this, but I suppose it's only evident in google reader since my blog doesn't show the title of the blogpost (Which says Three Drinks, if any hint). Might rewrite the ending.

Brythain, I hope that kinda answers your question. Thanks for your input anyway, it gave me good fundamental reasoning behind the entire conversation, but I screwed up lol. Meh >_>

Three Drinks, The First

Earl: Life just really isn't the same anymore, is it, Albert? From youth on up, everything has been changing slowly. Tea for me, please.

Albert: Perhaps it has. But what's changed most isn't the world around us, but really us ourselves, hasn't it? Cup of coffee, please.

Earl: Even so, isn't it because we have to adapt to the world itself? I'm sure that the world couldn't have advanced uniformly; rather it is that a small group of people advance, and everyone else is forced to follow in the same path.

Albert: Suppose you're right. What difference does it make now that you are aware of such a fact?

Earl: It means that after all this, we aren't ourselves any longer! Look at yourself, Albert. When, why'd you start drinking coffee? Since everyone at work drank it in the morning to keep themselves awake in this horrendously boring lifestyle and world?

Albert: Maybe it's because I'm still myself, that I find myself over here drinking coffee while listening to you. Is it not?

Earl: I hardly get you. Look at the world. All the issues and problems. I'm sure you're struggling with life as much as I am, and I'm just as sure we're not alone in this. Why can't we just go back to the way it was before? Simple and peaceful...

Albert: This isn't the past anymore,Earl. Things change. You've changed, and I've changed too. Life's rolled us some bad dice rolls. But you know what? This is all part of life; part of reality.

Earl: ...

Albert: Earl, let me ask you a question, and try to answer even if you aren't sure if it's correct.

Earl: I'm all ears.

Albert: If there was a drink out there that truly signified that you have matured, what would it be?

Earl: ...I don't know.

Albert: It's this simple cup of coffee. Life is tough, Earl, we all know that. This nice cup of coffee that everyone drinks every single day reminds them that very fact; life is bitter, life is hard. This bitterness is a simple reminder that reality just isn't the sweet life that kids and teens dream of, Earl. Take a sip.

Earl: ...it's bitter indeed, but there's a slight tinge of...

Albert: Sugar, isn't it? That's the thing. That's the little bit of sweetness inside that tells you not to succumb. Not to succumb to the world outside, the pains of reality that always try to bog you down. It's telling you to make sure that you remember the ups along with the downs in this roller coaster of life. Because among all that bitterness, there's just that small bit of sweetness that makes life bearable, perhaps even enough to enjoy. But you can't add too much sugar either. The coffee becomes too sweet and its flavour gets ruined. Maybe life has changed for the worse, Earl. It probably has. But it's the small traces among everything that truly make this cup of coffee what it really is. And guess what? It's incidentally this cup here that gives just the energy to pass through the day. Ironic, isn't it?

Albert: ...you want another sip?

Earl: ...I think I will.

Chiisana Sekai

世界中　だれだって
ほほえめば　仲良しさ
みんな輪になり　手をつなごう
小さな世界

限りない空と海
星影のうつくしさ
それは一人語りかける
小さな世界

隔たりを取り除き
友情の橋をかけ
手と手をつなぎつくろう
小さな世界

世界中　どこだって
笑いあり　涙あり
みんなそれぞれ助け合う
小さな世界

世界はせまい
世界はおなじ
世界はまるい
ただひとつ

-- Chiisana Sekai (It's a Small World After All)

There is something mesmerizing about this simple song that I just can't seem to put my hand on it. Maybe it's just a catchy song. Yet, somehow, it has a strangely poignant but calming tone to it, lyrics that are serene and cheerful at the same time, and most importantly, it really is a song that can be sang around the world. A small world.

Hamamatsu's weather is pretty awesome, but that's the kind of weather you expect of temperate countries anyway, so I guess not much can be said in regards to that aspect.

What is more interesting to note is that for a country that doesn't seem to particularly live on the internet as (probably) a large amount of people reading this will, they still seem to have the important stuff settled out. For a country whose aged population ratio is reaching Japan's, Singapore almost doesn't seem to be putting in effort to look at the welfare of the old and handicapped, focusing rather on the more economic aspect of such an issue and placing more emphasis on concepts like the silver workforce, an effect seen at quite a number of Macdonald's out there (All this ignores stuff comprising Medishield and the like and the -presumably- extensive effort the government puts into making sure it caters as much to the old as much as it tries to encourage people to give birth. After all, 'see' implies a rather surface-level of viewing things.) Two identical streets developed by a Singaporean and a Japanese might very well only have a few minute differences. You wouldn't see that many yellow tiles on the floor to guide the blind. You wouldn't see a second button on the pedestrian crossing catered to old people. And though this isn't really the street anymore, you sure as hell won't find anyone in a car stopping to let people cross in Singapore.

A more interesting subject to explore would certainly be the school and education. While I can't really say much since the school I went to was a public school, the Japanese syllabus does seem somewhat simpler than the Singaporean syllabus. And they seriously get very little homework, it's almost sickening when you look at the homework you have from Sec 1 and up. But all that lack of focus on academic life is compensated with great focus on non-academic life. The people taking part in club activities pretty much take it from Mon-Fri, occasionally on weekends as well. You get a sense of admiration for the kind of dedication that everyone puts into their clubs; something I can't picture many people in school bearing (Except maybe a particular group who loves BB so much, but that's one single case in comparison to the norm in Japan).

Another interesting thing to note is in regards to the sphere of influence in regards to schools. Rather unlike Singapore's trend in this regard, the sphere of influence for schools in Japan seems very much based on proximity rather than quality of school. Of the 300 students that attend the secondary school, 260 of them use the back gate, IOW at least 260 walk or take bicycles to school. Probably more. While I can't say much about this being the same as high school, you do get to walk to school with your classmates, and there's a good chance everyone will be in certain walking distance of each other (or at least a fair cycling distance). In sharp contrast everyone here takes car or public transport, a vastly differing point. I personally feel having your classmates in close proximity to you (irregardless of the quality of school) is far superior to having them far away yet with easy access via car. I guess it's the thought that your friends are always nearby in person that counts, something you can't do with MSN.

There is of course all the happy memories that I could talk about, but such things can be left to the other transfer students writing about their life in Hamamatsu. I'm a lazy bugger. >_>