Tokyo Container Quartet
Tokyu Hands is my second favorite Tokyo retail chain. It is narrowly edged out of first place by Don Quixote, which offers a comparably dazzling assortment of bizarre and outlandish merchandise, but is slightly cheaper and has a cuter logo. Though I didn’t consider this a factor in my comparison, Don Quixote is also the only store I’ve seen in which sex toys and pornography are shelved only a few steps away from children’s toys.
In any case, while browsing Tokyu Hands (an activity that can easily occupy an entire afternoon), I happened upon these fabulous containers:

A Trio of Japanese Sandwiches
|
Well, I suppose I can try… |
This sandwich is fresh, home made, and delicious. We want you to try to eat this sandwich. |
|
I never paused to appreciate the flexibility of sandwiches until I saw the label on this one. |
The great thing about sandwiches is you can enjoy a variety of tastes with no fuss. Ham, lettuce, eggs, tomatoes, choose whatever you like depending on how you feel. |
|
I found other sandwiches that beat this one in taste and freshness, but confidence? Never. This was one confident sandwich. |
You won’t find sandwiches anywhere else that can beat ours |
Free Your Mind to the Deli
|
There’s a Japanese proverb about Mt. Fuji that is often quoted in tourist guidebooks: “if you never climb Mt. Fuji, you’re a fool; if you climb it more than once, you’re crazy.” |
![]() |
![]() |
I’m not sure if it’s worse to be foolish or crazy, but I guess I fall into the second category, since I hiked up Mt. Fuji twice last summer. The first trek up the mountain was a considerable struggle, but the second time around it didn’t seem so tough. My calves and lungs had adapted somewhat, and more importantly, I was confident that I was capable of the challenge, having accomplished it before. |
|
The lesson I took away from this alpine adventuring was that humans are extraordinarily adaptable. At home in the States, I had always been a fairly stringent grammarian, but after living in Tokyo long enough, I developed a certain immunity to language mistakes. After a few months, I was no longer bothered (or even particularly amused) when I noticed the writing on the side of my saucepan that said “it supports people loving all cooking.” |
![]() |
![]() |
I think it’s all a matter of conditioning. When you’re surrounded by signs and labels in a foreign language, and are effectively illiterate, you are so relieved to see something that you can understand that you willingly forgive mistakes. You also begin to realize the incredible difficulty of translating between English and Japanese; with my own understanding of Japanese being so abysmal, I was in no position to judge Japanese attempts at English, so I soon lost interest in poking fun at poor spelling or grammar. |
|
What still fascinated me, however, were snippets of “Engrish” that gave glimpses into the Japanese psyche. The phrases that I found interesting may have had grammar that was completely correct, but they used combinations of English words or notions that would never be constructed back home, revealing differences in cultural attitudes, and taking on an almost poetic quality. “The words make sense,” I often found myself thinking, “but the concept doesn’t.” |
Splendid Double Harmony is here!! |
![]() |
I suppose understanding the Japanese spirit is also a matter of conditioning. After a few months I would pick up a bagel sandwich and glance at the wrapper, which said “BAGEL IS THE ESSENCE OF LIFE… AND LIFE IS THE REASON FOR BAGEL,” and it wouldn’t even faze me. “Of course,” I would think to myself, “naturally, bagel is the essence of life.” |
|
This was a dramatic shift in attitude compared to my first trip to a Japanese convenience store. On the way from the Narita airport to my orientation program in Hayama, our bus parked at a truck stop where we disembarked to buy snacks and drinks. I wandered the aisles fascinated, transported to a mysterious wonderland of enticing alien products in shiny plastic and aluminum packaging. A few months later, when I would step into a Lawson to pay my utility bill, I wouldn’t even give the rows of Collon or Calpis a second glance. |
![]() |
|
|
Fortunately, before I reached a point at which I failed to notice these things completely, I managed to capture a number of little gems. Over the next few days, I will post some of my favorites. I’ll begin with a “deli” theme: |
|
This is a nice hot deli from Pizza Hut. It makes you smile and be happy! Enjoy the deli while it’s hot. Try with Pizza! You will surely say “Great!” and want to buy it again. |
|
|
Poet Your Mind |
|
One Percent of One Percent
Unlike German television, the EE Times does have certain decency standards. At one point during my interview, while discussing RLPK Records, I had the following exchange with the reporter:
Monzy: Encouraging kids to study engineering is a noble goal, but unfortunately those songs are fucking terrible. Can I say “fuck” in the EE Times?
Reporter: Hmm… [Pause] That question hasn’t really come up before.
Evidently, the answer turned out to be “no”; you’ll notice a lot of bracketed edits in the interview, almost all of which correspond to profanity. Too bad — maybe the EE Times could broaden its readership if its stories had headlines like “Gallium Arsenide: Kicking the Shit Out of Silicon” or “Titania Nanotubes: Fuck Yeah!”
Anyway, here’s a scanned PDF of the article.
Geeks: The New Pimp?
|
I finally acquired a copy of my appearance on German TV, and I was amused to find all of my song’s explicit lyrics fully intact. At one point during the TV shoot I recall asking my interviewer if it was OK to say English swear words on German television. |
I smiled and resisted the temptation to ask her what time of day my clip would be airing, recalling the tenacity with which the cameraman had pursued that all-important crotch closeup (which, you may notice, made it into the production edit).
So my lyrics were left uncensored; since I don’t speak German, the only parts of the clip I could understand were me saying things like “asshole” and “bitch.” Fortunately, one of the members of my “nerd posse” was kind enough to provide an English translation:
![]() |
|
![]() |
|
![]() |
|
![]() |
|
![]() |
Staying in Shape the Data-Driven Way
![]() |
One of the coolest Christmas gifts I got this year was the Garmin Forerunner 201, a GPS wristwatch designed especially for athletes. It keeps track of your running or bicycling routes by logging timestamped GPS coordinates, and you can hook it up to your computer to download the data logs. |
| The software that ships with the Forerunner is pretty good for viewing aggregate statistics and tracking your performance over time, but it doesn’t allow you to visualize your routes in a particularly compelling way. However, the software does offer the intriguing capability to export your workout history to an XML file, so I decided to see what I could do with the data. | ![]() |
![]() |
After taking a little time to familiarize myself with the Google Maps API (and borrowing code from a number of clever web developers), I put together this Running Log. It lets me play back my runs on an overhead map, along with per-mile splits and an altitude graph. Unfortunately the altitude data isn’t particularly accurate; I noticed several runs in which the initial and final altitudes were quite different even though the run started and stopped at the same point. But the resolution of the latitude and longitude data is great — most of the maps can even correctly show which side of the street I’m running on. Let me know if you find any bugs or have ideas on how to improve the visualization. There are a number of features I’d like to add, but I’m hesitant to invest too much development time in it while I’m supposed to be writing my thesis proposal. And be sure to revisit my log later this week, when Chris and I will be attempting a heart-shaped run for Valentine’s Day. |
Holiday Hacking
![]() |
Every winter, the CS department has a contest in which each floor the Gates building competes to produce the most festive holiday decorations. This typically involves some form of yuletide geekery, such as Christmas-themed video games, robots in Santa hats, or pine trees decorated as Turing machines. |
| This year, inspired by that mad genius in Ohio, I built a computer-controlled light display that could be synchronized to music. A PC running Winamp drove 10 relays, each of which was connected to a string of Christmas lights. The circuit was fairly simple; a microcontroller accepted serial commands from the PC and switched a series of FETs, which in turn switched 120V reed relays. It’s probably inadvisable to run 120V AC through a breadboard, but I covered it with a cardboard box so that I could assure everyone that it was perfectly safe. |
|
|
To set the light show to music, I wrote a Winamp plug-in that allowed you to record a sequence of light transitions by pressing keys on the keyboard as the music was playing. While listening to a song, I would “play” the computer keyboard to produce a corresponding light pattern, and the performance was recorded and automatically played back the next time the same song was loaded. Check out the video of the construction process and the final results. |
Powered by WordPress with Pool theme design by Borja Fernandez.
Entries and comments feeds.























