Although almost every day at Six Apart is Take Your Dog to Work Day, Friday was extra special because it was the official Take Your Dog to Work Day! Plus, as lovers of blogs and animals, we think it's great that active blogger and Human Society's President and CEO, Wayne Pacelle, thinks having dogs around the office is a good reminder of "who we're working for."
We realize some people have it ruff and aren't lucky enough to be able to bring their dog to work, but hopefully these pictures taken at Six Apart last Friday will get your tails wagging... And let me tell you, it's harder than it looks to get all the doggies and their fetching owners in one picture.
For those of us in the northern hemisphere, today is the summer solstice. For ancient civilizations, this day was akin to our modern day New Year's Eve and was viewed as a time to reflect and renew. So why not kick off your summer celebration with a new theme?
See all of our themes in the Design Area.
Or choose from one of these brand-new themes. (Available under "New.")
Well, as could be expected, I didn’t keep up with that plan.
I’m back in Japan now, and really sorry for the delay. I'm having crazy computer problems, which are holding me up alot.... and also mean I can't give you photos JUST yet. (Photos are up!) But let me tell you about the next part of my trip :)
I'm going to paraphrase my diary from now, because.... it's just too long!
Customs at Milan airport was pretty strange. When I left Italy, I tried looking for my Italian stamp in my passport, and couldn’t find it. Then I remembered that was because I never got one. I arrived and headed to the exit, and was suddenly stopped by some short guy brandishing a silver badge hanging around his neck. “Hey. Where you come from?” He was doing that tough-guy thing of sort of looking over and behind my head as he was talking to me, and sort of sauntering even though he was standing still. I don’t remember if he was actually chewing gum or not, but I have the impression that he was. “What, just now?” “Yeah.” “Japan.” The guy thought for a while. “Where you stop over?” “Helsinki”. The guy chewed a bit more. “Why Japan?” I thought this was a pretty stupid question, but I answered anyway, though my tone of voice may have let him know what I thought, “I live there.” The guy thought and chewed for a bit longer, then walked off. I figured that meant I could enter the country. So I did. And that was all the security I came across.
Then I tried to catch the train, and got my first taste of how much I had overestimated the English language. My girlfriend is studying Italian, and prepared me a list of basics which I studied on the flight, but it really wasn’t enough. After hunting around for a place that looked like it might have sold tickets, I realised I had no idea how to order. I tried to ask for a ticket to my destination – I was staying at a guy’s place for my couple of nights in Milan who I had met on the internet for the express purpose of staying at his place, and I knew his station. The woman didn’t like it. “No. Cadorna, then subway”. OK. I got a ticket to Cadorna.
At Cadorna, I tried to find the subway station. There was absolutely zero English signage. I found it, and it looked like a horror movie. It was dirty and covered in graffiti and rubbish all over the brick and steel walls. The lights kept flickering. Considering I couldn’t speak much more than a word of the language, as was obviously a tourist, with my bags, it was pretty intimidating. Especially since I was tired and it was Saturday night, with loud drunk Italians everywhere. My girlfriend had told me Italy is big for robbery. I tried to look confident as I searched for my subway line. I was pretty confident that I found the right one, when I realised I had no idea how to get tickets. I found what looked like a subway map, and possibly a ticket vending machine, but there was no fare chart, and no indication of how the machine worked, just a touch screen covered in Italian. I watched a few people use it, navigating through a complex system of menus in Italian, before inserting money and getting a ticket. I had no chance. A group of not-overly-aggressive teenagers bought tickets, so I approached them. “Scusi”, I said, which got their attention, then I realized I had exhausted my Italian vocab. “Can anybody speak English?” Turns out one of them could, so he helped me buy a ticket. Turns out, wherever you’re going, one ticket is one euro. Hence no fare chart. It was really confusing. The guy whose place I stayed at later showed me how to change the interface to English, but it requires such a convoluted path that nobody other than an Italian speaker could do it in the first place.
I got on the subway, which was my first subway experience outside Japan – NZ doesn’t have them. It was horrible. I didn’t want to touch anything for fear of contracting something. As it turns out, I leant on a pole once, and my jacket got a weird black sticky substance all down it. Every time the train started or stopped, everyone standing stumbled a few steps through the sheer roughness of it. The doors looked like they closed with enough force to kill a man.
At my transfer point, I got off and started looking for the new line. After some searching, and completely misunderstood directions, I seemed to find the line I was looking for. I wanted the direction heading to Maciachini, but every time I navigated the catacombs in a way I thought was heading there, I kept seeing signs pointing to Uscita. I didn’t want to go to Uscita. So I had to backtrack a hundred times until I finally found the platform to Maciachini. I later realized Uscita means Exit.
I got to my host’s house, and he was on his
way out to a party. I was in no mood to party, as it was about 7 or 8 am my
time. I can’t sleep on planes. So he threw me the keys and headed out. I went
to sleep.
The next morning, after admiring some classic Italian house fittings, such as the bidet, I headed out. I had no idea where anything in Milan was, or even really where I was – I had intended to ask my host, but he had got back late and was still sleeping. On the basic map in the phone directory, there seemed to be something near Cadorna, so I headed back there.
I have decided that Italian people have no shame about being openly affectionate in public. Many times, I saw young couples really going for it in public places – especially in the dirty subway, of all places – I guess they’re either bored or it’s just a really romantic spot. Especially after coming from Japan, where people won’t even hold hands without a prior written arrangement, it was kind of a shock. I was also enjoying how stereotypically Italian everybody looked, with their big eyes and big triangular noses that don’t even dip in between the eyes, but just come marching straight out from their foreheads – they’re a very strong and proud looking race. The guys all have curly black hair, and a lot of them are fat with huge hands. Just like being in Helsinki felt like a Bond movie, being in Italy felt like the Sopranos.
Near Cadorna station is a castle. It was my first piece of real, old Italian architecture, and I thought it was beautiful. Apparently it’s the place where the guy who used to own Milan lived. It’s a bit ruined now, but I did see big walls and portcullises (portculli?), towers, windows, crests, and statues. The weather was getting worse, going from overcast to drizzly, but I could see an interesting-looking arch in the distance, so I went to check it out. Apparently, this was built by Napoleon during his time here, and is a smaller version of the one in Paris. Old Napoleon didn’t seem to be big on imagination, and built the same thing everywhere he went. Unfortunately, this arch, like lots of places in Milan, and it turned out, Italy, was getting the Dunedin treatment, and had a good section covered in scaffolding.
One thing that’s a shame about traveling by yourself is that it’s tricky to get photos of yourself in places. You can probably ask some passerby to help by taking a photo of you, but what I’ve found in my travels is that almost every passerby is a crap photographer. I almost don’t bother to ask anymore because it’s almost certain that I’m going to end up either silhouetted, or too small to be seen, or too big to see the background, or the horizon’s going to be horribly skewed, there’ll be a big finger in one corner of the frame, the actual attraction in the background is going to be partly or wholly removed from the picture, the whole photo’s going to be blurry and shaky, or any other number of things, or combination of the above. And of course, you can never ask the person to do it again, you just say thanks, that’s great, and move on.
After the arch, I moved back down through
the streets, past the Arena (where some kind of soccer expo was happening, and
the kids, full of soccer fever, were playing games or entering kicking
competitions), back past the castle and out the other side into what looked
like Milan’s main street.
Most of Milan was shut on a Sunday, but this one street was still doing its best, with stores open, people about, and even a couple of street performers – including a guy churning out merry tunes on his accordion, which gave the place a very Little Italy feel (though I don’t imagine there is one in this country), and a couple of Peruvian natives in full tribal regalia and feathered headdresses doing a rendition of The Sound of Silence on traditional wooden flutes and a traditional electronic drum machine – which wasn’t quite so in theme with the area, but was also very nice.
Further down I emerged into Duomo Piazza (Plaza), with the Galleria on my left, and Duomo Cathedral – Italy’s biggest, and the world’s third biggest cathedral (I later saw the biggest) – straight ahead. It was giant, beautiful and ornate. The square in the front was filled with pigeons, tourists, and hawkers. Some guy forced a bracelet onto my arm despite my saying I didn’t want it, then looked all pissed when I didn’t give him a donation.
The inside of the church was beautiful and, amazingly, free. After the cathedral (on the top of which, at night, glows a golden Madonna), I had a late lunch at McDonald’s. I know it’s a waste, but I was to be meeting my friend the next day and figured all the rest of my meals would be expensive Italiana. And besides, I like to see how McDs varies in each country. In Italy, the chips are spirals. Madness.
I finally met up with my host and his (girl?)friend (who greeted me with “Oh my God, you’re so white!” – apparently a compliment), who showed me around a bit and gave me some info on the city, and Italy. We went to Santa Maria delle Grazie, where The Last Supper is held. But that takes about three months’ advance booking for a 15 minute viewing, so we just stood outside for a while. Apparently Milan has the most churches in Italy (Europe?) – around 400. I did not know that. He also showed me some Art University, bursting at the seams with plaster statues. I’d love to study art there….
The two of them cooked dinner for me, and I went to bed to get some sleep before heading to Venice the next day.
A couple of months ago, we told you about Blog It powered by TypePad, the first cross-platform blogging application for Facebook the enables you to post to your Vox blog - and ALL your blogs - with a single click.
Within a week, Blog It had nearly 4,000 active users posting tweets and creating blog posts, as well as updating their status messages with the title and link to the published post. Today, Blog It's Facebook application has nearly 10,000 users. But here's the thing: You're not always sitting in front of the computer when the inspiration to blog strikes. And at Six Apart, it is our goal to provide you the tools you need need to blog where you want, and when you want.
Which is why this week we introduced Blog It for iPhone, a free web application just like the one we introduced for Facebook - only now - on your iPhone. Built specifically for iPhone's Safari browser, Blog It for iPhone enables you to post blog entries or status updates from wherever you are to more than a dozen different online services. And just like the original Facebook version, you can choose to share your posts with the people you know across various social networks.
To start blogging with Blog It for iPhone, go to http://blogit.typepad.com with your iPhone's Safari browser and install the Blog It icon onto your mobile desktop. Then, all you have to do is click the Blog It icon and start creating posts!
Whether you're riding the bus to work, cheering on your team courtside, or enjoying a picnic by the lake, now it's easier than ever to Blog It.
We will be performing scheduled maintenance on Vox tonight (Friday, June 6, 2008) from 11:00 p.m. - 11:30 p.m. PDT. Although we don't anticipate this maintenance to be highly disruptive, we always like to give you advance notification when there is a slight chance of some downtime.
As always, thank you for your patience - and have a great weekend!
Update: There WILL be downtime between 11:00 p.m. and 11:30 p.m. PDT. so please plan accordingly.
Get your closets ready because the 2nd Annual SHOP SF Event is less than two weeks away, and Gen Art is offering Voxers an exclusive 25% discount on VIP and General Admission to this one-of-a-kind shopping fête.
The event will showcase over 40 local designers specializing in stylish clothing, jewelry and accessories for both men and women. These local designers were culled from the Gen Art alumni, local art schools, as well as the Bay Area's hottest emerging designer boutiques. With so many amazing looks to choose from, you'll be sure to find head-turning styles perfectly tailored to your individual taste. After all, that's what we think being a Bay Area resident is all about, don't you?
When: Saturday, June 14th
VIP Preview Hour: 12:00 - 1:00 P.M. (Includes access to the VIP lounge, Shu Uemura Lash Bar, complimentary coat check and a gift bag.)
General Public: 1:00 - 6:00 P.M.
Where: 511 Harrison Street (at 1st Street0
San Francisco, CA 94105
RSVP for the event at Gen Art and enter offer code VoxShopSF to save 25% off VIP or General Admission.
Wondering how you can say "Thank You" to Gen Art for their generous offer? Raid the closet of your boyfriend, husband, father, or best male bud, and bring a paper bag full of menswear (in good condition) to donate to The Saint Vincent de Paul Society. Donations will go to help more than a thousand people trying to overcome poverty, homelessness, substance abuse and domestic violence in the Bay Area. Plus, for your kind offering, you'll receive a Goorin Bros. hat or accessory.
Let us know in the comments if you'll be attending this exciting event. We can't wait to see you there!
The Purple Ribbon Project is an international project with the long-term goal of bringing an end to all interpersonal violence. While none of us can hope to stop interpersonal violence on our own, the Purple Ribbon Project encourages us to change our own behavior by being a responsible role model, setting an example, and promoting violence awareness and respect.
The Purple Ribbon Project believes in order to stop the violence, we must first see to it that every man, woman, and child is aware of the problem. We must ask them to consciously stop tolerating, enabling, or engaging in this self-destructive epidemic among humans. Stopping violence is everyone’s responsibility.
What can you do to participate in this effort? First, you can answer today's QotD, "What could we do to create a world with less violence?" or respond to today's Vox Hunt and "Show us something purple." You can also wear a purple ribbon or tie one to your car or find ways to be a positive role model.
Learn more about how to get involved with the Purple Ribbon Project and let us know about your efforts to make the world a more peaceful place in the comments.
Well, yep, I'm in Italy. Going to be here
for about a week, and reckon it's going to be awesome. Decided I should write
about it, so here's the first entry I made, scribbled onto an air sickness bag,
and then copied into the internet (possibly badly, due to this old and slow
computer) for your reading pleasure. Gotta go now, but will try to update this
if I can, to beat one big clump when I get back!
-------------------------
Right now, the woman on the intercom sounds either terribly sick, scary, or possibly attempting to be sexy. I don't really know, since she's speaking in what I assume to be Finnish.
I've flown into Helsinki from Osaka, as a
stopover on my way to Milan in Italy. It's been interesting so far. Originally
I was hoping we'd be flying over China, so I could look down at China going
past, and hopefully even catch a look at the Great Wall. However, instead, we
took a path right up and over the top of Russia. It's a route I've never flown
before, but it was pretty amazing. As we went over the top of Russia, I saw the
incredibly inhospitable landscape below.
The plains started to grow mountains, which were covered in snow, until all I could see were white heights. But not so much the peaks I'd imagine, rather, high plateaus with many tiered levels, split by giant gashes in the rock. As we continued, the ice creeping over the window made it tricky to get a good look, but we headed out over the ocean. Or, what should have been the ocean. But all the water was frozen. And covered in snow. The motions of
the sea had caused some cracks to appear, but those fragmentations just emphasised the impressiveness of the frozen floating blocks.
We came back in towards the mainland, and
earth started to appear beneath the snow. The terrain looked every bit as
terrible and unforgiving as all those American movies make it out to be. All
there was was ground, and plantations of pine trees, all covered in snow and
being beaten by the wind, which was still falling and blowing hard.
I got into Helsinki airport, and instantly knew I was in Eastern Europe since all the signs had dots over the vowels and far too many "K"s. Also, all the women seem to be speaking in voices just that little bit too low, and wearing knee-high leather boots that somehow give off a different feel to when the Japanese wear them.
Going through the irritating customs and passport control AGAIN, while transferring directly from one Finn Air flight to another, I had my toothpaste consfiscated as the 120g tube contravened the 100g rule, despite being about half used up. I tried to protest, but apparently it's the capacity of the vessel which is the problem, not what's in it. How this makes any sense at all is beyond me. How could bringing on two 100g tubes of dubious substance be less dangerous than bringing on one 105g tube? What do they think that extra 5g is going to do? Especially if it's NOT EVEN THERE? And for that matter, if the toothpaste is so dangerous (despite the fact that I'd just brought it all the way from Japan on the same airline, quite without incident), how the hell does slipping it into a neat little ziplock plastic bag, and then giving it straight back to me, render it completely impotent? I wonder how many hardened terrorists they're really catching out with that one. I wouldn't have minded so much but it was NZ toothpaste which I brought over with me specially since it's a well-known fact that Japanese toothpaste is made out of brine and tofu. And no fluoride.
I managed to see at least two Japanese tour groups assembling around leaders waving little hankys on sticks (as is their custom), snapping off photos of Helsinkian walls, before getting my awesome Helsinki stamp in my passport (awesome because it's so incredibly boring, but you can tell they've tried so hard to make it look fun) and getting onto this plane to Milan.
Outside, the snow's gotten harder.
Wow, it's been a long time since I wrote anything up here. Well, I'll cut out everything and head right to the latest bit - grauduation.
This is the season for graduations! All schools end up around now, break for a short while, and then start up the new school year in tandem with the sakura blooms, which are supposed to indicate fresh life and a beautiful new start (around the same time as Easter in the Western world, interestingly).
Normally, High School graduations are held on the first of March. That was a Saturday this year, so luckily for me, both my schools shifted the graudation to a weekday - one to the previous Friday, and one to the following Monday. That way, I was able to attend both!
Both ceremonies kicked off with the
National Anthem - a very slow song sung to the
plink-plonk of some traditional
Japanese string instrument, and which I've never heard anyone sing with
anything other than a feeling of uninterested obligation. The actual ceremony
was about as boring as you'd imagine, with long-winded speeches by principals,
vice principals and PTA heads, followed by speeches from reps of the graduating
students, and the remaining students.
It was all horribly formal and tedious, making most of the students nod off, and as I looked around, most of the teachers as well.
The graduating students sang a song at each school. Last year at the middle school, the song of choice was "Tabidachi no Hi ni" - a song about parting ways with friends and heading into the future - a lovely song, sung through the tears of the emotional kids leaving. This year, I heard a new song on Friday - "Sora mo Toberu Hazu" (We can soar through the sky(?)), which was also quite nice but not sung with the same passion as the middle schoolers did. The art school, on Monday, ended up singing Tabidachi... but also with reduced passion. Maybe middle schoolers are just more emotional. Also, the art school is mostly girls, and introverted ones at that, so maybe that could account for the less oomphy performace. It's still a very nice song though - here's the first verse.
After the ceremony was when things got fun. The first and second year students were waiting outside the hall for the graduating students, to applaud and congratulate them as they filed out, and give presents and shed a few tears.
The art school had a bit of a twist on this, where the graduating students actually gave all us teachers a flower each as they left. That was a bit of a nice surprise, and it's nice to have that smell in my room at home for a change :)
In home rooms, awards were given to certain students, home room teachers said final farewells, and students pored over photos of themselves from the previous three years in the special graduating yearbook. Then the whole place devolved into a photo shoot. Everybody was running around, screaming, laughing, crying, and taking rolls of film of photos (cos, despite being in Japan, most of them still use disposable cameras) of possibly their last time toegther in school uniform, while flashing the indestructible peace sign. At the first school on Friday, I got loads of photos with the students as well. The girls have always been very open about saying adoring things about me, and I've always assumed it was largely because, as a teacher, I was basically off-limits and they had no real reason to feel any sense of shame about it. But I was surprised to see that the "cool" guys in the class - not many of them, only one or two - were also hounded by the girls this time. They literally queued up to get one-on-one photos with these couple of guys, and then clasped hands and jumped around screaming with their friends after having them taken, while the guy tried to look away, looking a little embarrassed.
At the art school, things were a little different. There is no uniform. But, there is a fashion course. So, a large number of the students came in their own outfits which they had made at home. There were all sorts, from big flowery dresses, to smaller doll-style get-ups, through to sleek and sexy cocktail-style dresses. Those who didn't make their own outfits came mostly in kimono - some of which had been designed or patterned themselves, or a couple came in the more sombre-looking man's style kimono. But not the guys. With the exception of one, the guys (all, what, 4 of them?) came in suits. Here, unfortunately, I don't know the students as well. That is to say, hardly at all. I have had no classes with them, so I only know them as well as I've managed to get to know them through meetings in the corridors, or at lunch-times, or awkward meetings outside the toilets, and things like that. And being naturally introverted, and with basically no ability in English, I haven't made many friends there. So, rather than taking photos with people, I spent most of the time like a weird voyeuristic foreigner, lurking around the crowd and snapping off photos of other people. It was a shame, but that's OK.
After the crowds died down and people headed out, and the teachers retired to the staff room, students continued to pop their head in and give the teachers an "Arigato gozaimasu, Osewa ni narimashita" - "Thank you very much, sorry to have caused you trouble" - a very nice gesture, I thought, and one that went largely ignored by most of the teachers.
I wonder how many of them I will ever see again? Probably not many, I'd imagine. Most have applied to various Universities, many of them outside of Kyoto. I have given my email address to the English course students at one school, but I imagine most of them won't use it. Although, I do still receive emails from time to time from some of my middle school kids from last year, which is nice!
All across the country (and possibly the World), people today recieved little postcard-sized documents either elating or devastating them.
Yep, The Level 2 Japanese Language Proficiency Test I sat in sat in December... (bottom half of that link)
I passed it! Solid 63%. Happy with that. Real happy.
Here's a totally unrelated picture. But you could always imagine it's like a little monk-ish celebration party :)