08.12.07
Posted in Dance, Gender at 12:16 by krause
Riutanharju, a dance pavillion open during summer time only near RiihimĂ€ki, I think. My shoulder is annoying me, but I try to make the most out of my outings anyway. Can’t really stop living, either. Painkillers are on the menu the following day, but please give me an otherwise good dance night. No.
A definition of an invitation to dance: I remember dancing with him once before, this same summer, at Pavi, a pavillion near Helsinki. I immediately recognized him as the person who, at Pavi, had ordered me to slide my left arm further around his shoulders, as dancers of Tango Argentino usually do. I didn’t like his tone of voice, and I don’t enjoy dancing like that, so I kind of ignored the “request.” What does he do? He grabs my arm and MOVES it around his neck. I try to humor him, but my following deteriorates, my breasts get squashed – no, I think, and slowly try to wiggle my hand down to his right shoulder. So he throws my arm by the wrist around his neck once more, and commands me to keep it there. I ask him why. He tells me: “Because he enjoys it.” I take my hand back to the proper shoulder and reply: “I can’t follow like this.” We dance on, but at least I am not having fun.
So, he asks me to dance a Waltz at Riutta (Aug. 11, 2007). I don’t know whether he remembers me, or the hand episode – but I do. Still, as the rules and regulations are what they are, I politely agree to dance with him. And… this time he wants to squeeze his really soaking wet, sweatty face against my cheek. No way, although I would do it happily with any of my friends if they accept my wet face. But this guy is not my friend, he is the one that treats me like some subordinate and forces me into positions. And now his cheek – no way. So I extend my back and assume a good frame, which naturally tilts my upper body somewhat farther away from his face. He goes: “This is not competitive dancing.” “No, ” I reply, “but as it is, I happen to be a competitive dancer.” “This is social ballroom.” “Yes, I agree.” “Press your forehead next to mine!” he orders me. And I go:”I’d rather not.” And hecommands me again. So I ask him (still while trying to move on the floor): “So I have no say in this?” “No. You’re a woman. Not when speaking of these matters.” (In Finnish he said: “… tĂ€ssĂ€ asiassa” evidently meaning partner dancing.
Woo. So I told him I thought it was best for both of us if he just escorted me back to where he asked me to dance, since it was clear neither of us enjoyed it. Evindently women do have a say, since he immediately did what I asked. 
Did he realize that I was going to discuss this with my friends, and that all followers, and also many leaders (if not all, as it later turned out) would agree with me on his rude behavior. “No, you’re a woman. Not in these matters.” Yeah.
Later he was sitting on a bench watching me and my female friend waltzing by. My female friend is a very good leader, and I was enjoying the dance – and enjoying it a whole lot more than the forced, odd waltzing position he was bending me into. He didn’t look happy. I really don’t feel sorry for him. And I won’t feel the least sorry for not being asked to dance by this impolite bodybuilder, not even if he were the last leader on Earth. And he won’t be, because I can choose to be one whenever I want.
I have dumped someone in the middle of a dance only once before. He showed his tongue in my ear after pulling my hair and locking my head into a tilted position – and not letting go after having been asked. Extracted from the Memoirs of a Follower. (Yet to be written)
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08.06.07
Posted in Japanese at 17:56 by krause
“I’m sorry, have you lived in Japan?” asked a Chinese neighbour of mine when I stepped in the elevator. “Why, yes, but how on earth did you know?” I replied. First I suspected he had seen me in my yukata, but evindently he hadn’t. He told my hairstyle, the way I dress, everything looks so Japanese. This, of course was intreaguing, as I was wearing funny “stringy” pants I bought at a Finnish flea market, and a normal reddish top. My shoes were high-heeled two-tones, and my hair was on a bun, as it always has been.
Me and some friends of mine were discussing the Japanese recycling and shameless dumping of perfectly good, almost new electronics, dishes, and other stuff. What do you say about this?
This is a saxophone. There was also this (see below).
Perfectly clean instruments, a sax and a trumpet, in their cases, not resold, but thrown away. If you are interested, take a look at my old site.
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08.04.07
Posted in Japanese, TV and movie at 20:36 by krause
Aug 4, 2007 Sat
There were two programs on TV today about Japan. The first on ewas the Lonely Planets Ian travelling to Tokyo, Akita, and Aomori. The second was Nousevan Auringon Kajo, a Finnish made show whose name is a pun: “Nousevan auringon” means “of the rising sun” and Kajo is the name of the presenter, but it also means “dawn”. The name of the program is thus “The dawn of the rising sun”. In Japanese it would make: ææ„æ [kyokujitsu akatsuki] or ææ [asahi akatsuki] This time the presenter visited makakis bathing in a hot spring, an onsien telling the spectators that 42 Centigrades is too hot for him even as a Finn used to the sauna, and then he visited a kimono store and got a pretty good idea about the work put into the making of a kimono, and also kitsuke, donning the kimono. To his honor, I must say, the facts and names were so much more accurate than in the Lonely Planet program.
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Posted in Friends, Japanese, Outings at 01:24 by krause
Pique nique of Pasi 2007: Töölönlahti, Helsinki.
Went on a pic-nic with Ville and Eero. I was wearing my red yukata, although it was hot. However, it isn’t half as hot and humid as it is this time of year in Japan, so I didn’t mind.
The blue styrofoam box is actually for sushi, and the kawaii thingies to sit on are also Made in Japan. There an umbrella is obligatory wquipment, whether the weather is sunny or rainy. I was a tough one: I wore real hard-core geta, instead of plastic ones. Itaiii!
The host, Pasi, was running round in his swimwear, skaring the passers-by. We were sitting , lieing, dancing and singing there, a bunch of roudy Finns, some more well-behaved than others 
I was just munching away on some bento rice and yakitori I made (we had a grill that we tried to manage responsibly) when Pasi makes this Chinese guy join us. He didn’t speak any English, so at first there was some confusion, and nobody could communicate with him. Then I ealized that I could use written kanji characters, since they Japan and China still share many of them.
So I drew out my notebook and we sat there jotting down things like “Japanese language, you.” “Yes, live, Japan for one year.” “Beijing?” “No. Shanghai, close. Downwards.” “Oh, you mean south?”. “Yes.” “Photoghraph?” “Yes! Two!” We managed to communicate some basic things in this exptremely elementary anner, and exchange e-mail addresses. I hope to get copies of the pictures taken with his camera.
I had, joining the others’ half-nudity, already taken off my yukata to get tanned as a group of Japanese tourists passed us by. I was sitting there in my bikini top and some biking shorts. When I saw them coming I rushed towards them hastily putting on my underkimono. 
Pasi also quickly dove into his pants. The older ladies came to dress me back in my yukata, and at first thought I didn’t know how to do it. (Maybe because I said “onegai shimasu”, which means “please”, or “I’m asking for a favor” – but I actually meant that they would join us.) Anyhow, they soon noticed I knew the vocabulary for kitsuke (kimono dressing) and also knew how to do the tricks with obi jime etc. 
I don’t know whether they realized that I understood them, when they were talking to each orther: “She knew how to tie that, did you see” and the like. When I criticized the red color of the yukata and mumbling how the “color is too hot for August…” they started nodding in unison. My self-esteem rose to astronomical spheres.. They got me dressed in no time and then all the ladies wanted to take pictures of me – and I wanted the kitsuke-ladies also to be in the photo… Got to say a couple of sentences in Japanese, too
After a couple of hours the Japanese group walked back from the restaurant. They came to chat with us for another minute, and I asked the women with the cameras whether I could get copies of their photos, and they promised me! Cool! Also Paula took photos: 
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08.02.07
Posted in Dance, Friends, Pedagogy at 01:49 by krause
Got a ride to Riutanharju dance pavillion, and met Mikael (from Bremen) in the car. He had been looking for a place where he could dance Argentinian Tango, but found himself at two dance pavillions – where almost nobody dances Argentinian, but rather Finnish Tango. On the way back I remembered that the next day it would be Thursday practice at Urheilukatu, so I invited him there. We went, and he got finally his Tango Argentino. Me, on the other hand (while also getting as much dancing as I wanted or could) was getting really irritated by this man, who – as I later foun out – is an instructor for beginners… He wouldn’t listen to on single thing I had to say. I tried to be polite and inform him that I have only been learning from others, not teachers, as I have not taken one class of any kind Tango in my life. He made me sorry for telling, since my perspective, interpretation of things, my truth was TOTALLY ignored! By somebody that regards himself as an instructor! And me, I am a dance instructor AND I tend to think of myself as an adult educator, as it is what I am majoring in at the Uni… but maybe I have got it all wrong, maybe I don’t know how humans learn.
How about telling a Follower that she really doesnÂŽt need to know anything. But then she is being told she needs to follow. Well, isn’t following a skill, too? Something to be “known”? And then he ORDERS me to close my eyes, because that is how I WILL FOLLOW better. How the heck does he know that? I am a ballerina, used to balancing myself, but not eyes closed. Besides, I don’t WANT to close my eyes. But for three or for rounds of this subject, he doesn’t take a no for an answer. At this point I tell him I don’t want to. He still insists. And I tell him I don’ t really feel like dancing any longer. At least he understands one hint, takes me back to the table, and leaves me alone. How is it that I still danced ok, or even well for my level, with all the others (who, I might add, are not instructors)!?
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