Eternal Summer

Good lord, has it really been over a month since my last post? I must apologise (though in some quarters, I realise, that could be viewed as a blessing). Been very, very, very busy with teaching and grant proposals and such; I will tell more about it when I get a moment or two to relax this weekend. In the meantime, consider this a placeholder so Google doesn't delete the whole shebang...

A Tale of Two Presidents

And two lectures, actually. It all went off without anything major happening, partly because of the massive presence of the NYPD (helicopters, paddy wagons, the works) and the sensible decision to keep non-students off the campus (they still protested outside anyway, though I don't think anyone was arrested).

The most problematic part of the whole thing was that I was talking at exactly the same time Ahmadinejad was, and as a consequence, only a little over one-third of our students actually showed up. Which was, in all honesty, a little galling - I had spent my entire weekend over the lecture, and, though I say so myself, it was actually pretty damn good. Oh well. I suppose I can't blame the students - it's not every day you get to listen to a nutcase via digital relay. And I have a suspicion that it won't be the last time I lecture to a half-empty auditorium...

With around 3,000 students gathering to watch the live relay, I could hear the cheers ringing across the main quad throughout the lecture, certainly for President Bollinger's opening remarks, in which, to be perfectly blunt, he tore Ahmadinejad a new one. Describing Ahmadinejad as having "all the signs of a cruel and petty dictator", remarking that his Holocaust denial was the mark of someone "astonishingly uneducated", he really laid into him. I'm kind of in two minds about this...on the one hand, I agree completely with what Bollinger said - Ahmadinejad's regime is a vile one, and he should be called to account for it. On the other, I do wonder how it reflects on Columbia to have the Prez laying into him in such brutal fashion.

I suppose on a third hand, Ahmadinejad's response did rather highlight that maxim that "free speech makes it easier to tell who the idiots are". For some reason this wasn't reported in the UK media, or so I heard, but Ahmadinejad asserted in response to a question on Iran's persecution of homosexuals that there simply weren't any in Iran, to a good deal of derisive laughter from the crowd. To choose a thoroughly inappropriate metaphor, I suppose if you give someone enough rope, they'll hang themselves.

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?

This Monday, at Columbia, a man will be giving a lecture. A man of some renown, one widely disliked, even detested in the circles in which he moves. Many believe he's a dangerous lunatic and not to be trusted; some even say that he could represent the greatest threat to Western civilisation in our times.

Oh, and the President of Iran will be talking, too.

Yes, somehow, in one of those bizarre twists of fate that make me think the universe really does have a sense of humour, I will be lecturing on campus on 9th and 10th century Japanese court politics at roughly the same time as Mahmoud Ahmadenijad gives his lecture elsewhere on the campus on, probably, something along the lines of how he'd like to kill all the Jews. Yes folks, what didn't manage to happen last year will come to pass, your friend and mine the President of the Islamic Republic of Iran is coming to speak at Columbia. I imagine that the scheduling conflict will affect attendance; but hey, Ahmadinejad can just wait until I'm good and finished.

I really did give this some serious thought, but, given the heavily Jewish demographics of the Upper West Side, I was genuinely unable to think of anyone alive on the face of the planet at the moment who could possibly elicit quite the reaction that ol' crazy Mahmound will no doubt get. I thought John Ashcroft was an explosive choice...let's see what happens tomorrow. We'll have Campus Security, the NYPD, and the US Secret Service swarming all over the place tomorrow, there's a massive anti-Ahmadinejad demonstration scheduled for 11:30 a.m., the whole campus will be locked down except for two gates, and only then to CUID holders. Even allowing for all this, it would not surprise me greatly if somebody still decides to do something stupid. Watch this space.

Crossing Over; or, the Wrong Man for the Job

As promised, here's some footage of me making a fool of myself trying to carry over what little skill I have at cricket to baseball (NB, the footage is at 90° for the first 15 seconds or so - do not adjust your set, it'll come round in due course).



You'll also notice that I'm basically playing a slightly deranged hook/pull shot to every ball. Kate also reckons that my hands are too high (hey, I was just trying to imitate Ichiro's stance) and my weight is too far back...I think I'll have to go down there again sometime and get some proper coaching. Now I have a cricket-mad roommate, of course, that might be rather more tempting...

Shot of self and bro afterwards. Do we look like a pair of prize prats or what?

Life is Full of Surprises

Some things, however, are entirely predictable. Like birthdays - one rarely hears of someone having to take off back home for an unexpected birthday. It was mine this past 20th August. I turned 28, which in my view is a much better number than the rather scrappy 27. 28's divisible by more numbers, for one thing, and it has a sort of solidity to it that very much appeals to me. You may call that a rationalisation for the fact that I'm now unable to say I'm in my mid-twenties any more, but you'd be wrong. I think.

You'll note that that's my brother there in the right of shot; he was here for ten days or so to do research using the Columbia libraries and to travel around a bit on the east coast with a view to visiting a few museums. You'll also notice that the label on the bottle from which we're drinking says Presidente. This, apparently, is a Cuban beer, and a very appropriate one since, of course, I am the President, and President in Spanish is El Presidente. Which everyone calls me now. You see? Poetry in motion.

Anyway, celebrations were held at a few bars in Smith Street, down in Brooklyn. I recommend this as a venue for a party, since it is basically one long street with lots of funky bars and restaurants all along its length, leading at the end through downtown Brooklyn and back towards Manhattan. In attendance, all the way from London, England, was none other than Paz himself, taking a little break before starting work for Google, whose mighty empire we have to thank for this blog. Also present were the New York Miyagi crew, Fusco and Corin, as well as Kate and - naturally - myself. With hilarious consequences, as they say in sitcom world.

Props are due to Kate for getting me probably the best present in the world, a T-shirt bearing the words I'm a Legend in Japan. Hard to think of a better present, especially because by a funny coincidence I am a legend in Japan. She also got me a couple of red greasepaint pencils to use when marking papers this semester, and a 1st edition of a guide to English usage from 1942. She knows me, this one. She knows me all too well. What a fantastic girlfriend.

A few days later, Mike and I went to the batting cages at the Chelsea Piers setup to try our hand at smacking a few baseballs around. He did better than I did - he was always the better cricketer - partly since I was just playing a pull shot to almost every ball, rather than actually swinging the bat like you're supposed to. My illustrious brother took some video of me swinging away, which may - assuming he gets it to me in time - be posted on this blog so you can all take a look and have a good laugh.

Now, remember I said I didn't get the Monbusho scholarship? Seems I was wrong. Apparently, I did. I was actually placed on a reserve list, and someone this week dropped out, which means that one is now mine if I want one. Allied to the acceptance (informally) in the last couple of weeks of me as an advisee by a professor at Waseda, this means that - allowing for the possibility of some minor changes in details along the way - I will definitely be going back to Japan in the autumn of 2008 to do a year or so's research. The Man in Japan will be back - Tokyo style.

And other good stuff is happening, too. In a quite remarkable display of not-being-bureaucraticness, CU housing allowed Arunabh to do a switch and move into the room to be vacated tomorrow by my current roommate. Needless to say, given my travails with previous dormmates, I am delighted not to have to take my chances once again on the roommate lottery and have someone I know and like take up the vacant space. Much cricket will be shown in this apartment, I predict. I have a feeling this is going to be a great term...

Englishman Down South

The land of the boll weevil
Where the laws are medieval
Is callin' me to come and never more roam

- Tom Lehrer, I wanna go back to Dixie

That's right, y'all - time to head down below that Mason-Dixon line, where the word "well" has three syllables and where you can almost hear the banjo in the more rural areas. Yes, for the first time I headed to the South of the US, Georgia to be precise, to the city of Atlanta. Now, Atlanta's kind of a bubble when it comes to the South, as is the case with many large cities relative to their surrounding areas, but it was still an interesting and at times an eye-opening experience.

The occasion was the JETAA USA National Conference, to which I, as President of the New York chapter, was required to attend along with CJ, our treasurer. I flew out of La Guardia for the first time, getting into Atlanta around midday and eventually making my way to Buckhead in the north-east of the city where our hotel was located. As you'd expect of the South at this time of year, it was perishingly hot, well over 100° outdoors especially from noon til 3 or so. Thankfully, I wouldn't have to deal with this much as almost the entire time was spent in rooms with air-conditioning. One hates to think what the South was like before it was invented.

First day was basically about getting oriented, including an evening trip to a jazz bar round the corner from the hotel by the name of Sambuca. I'd been told by all and sundry how cheap Atlanta would seem compared to New York; unfortunately, this didn't really prove to be the case, though I still managed to find the wherewithal to sink far more alcohol than was really good for me over the four days. By about 9:00 the JETAA delegation were pretty much the only white people in there, which is not altogether unfamiliar for anyone who's ever been a JET. The $20 cover charge imposed, though, was enough to persuade us to leave for other parts.

The conference was much as you'd expect - two-thirds boring bureacratic and procedural stuff, one-third useful information. It did highlight how much better organised New York is than many of the other chapters; Florida, for example, hadn't known how to even apply for their funding last year, and Alaska were on the verge of being de-listed and hadn't sent any delegates. I get bored fairly easily by bureaucratic stuff, and wished we could have spent more time bouncing ideas for events, activities, or other programs off each other. A JETAA chapter is about what it does, not how it applies for its grant-in-aid, after all. For some reason, as you can see on the right, the photographers at the conference seemed to display a bizarre fascination with photographing me while I was eating.

And with CJ when he was eating too, as it happens. What's up with that?






My active involvement was limited to holding what Americans call a breakout session, which basically involves getting together in small groups to talk about issues of concern to chapters. I talked about "Membership Retention", dispensing nuggets of wisdom (no, really) to those who wanted to know how to get their numbers up. Not, of course, that we have to try that hard in New York - we're New York. We're cool. People come to us, we don't chase them.

Naturally, as I always do, I lit up the room with my sparkling wit and effervescent charm. Much hilarity ensued.






This was followed by a reception at the Consulate General in Atlanta, at which the gin and conversation flowed in equal measure. I think the foundations for near-disaster were laid at this point, really. I didn't eat as much as I really should have, and, well, as generations of Englishmen in India before me discovered, gin and tonic goes down really, really well when it's swelteringly hot outside.

You can probably guess what happened after we got back. I also seem to remember unloading a cartload of good-natured invective on Western country rep Shannon, who's in the middle of the photo right at the very top, and who was giggling away the whole time, being already three sheets to the wind by this point. I remember we went to a couple of bars after this, but my recollections lack detail for some reason. I do know that shots were done at one point, and I also recall walking past a shop called John's Firearms, which I'm fairly sure is the first gun shop I've ever seen in the States.

Yes, for paradise the southland is my nominee
Jes' give me a hamhock and a grit of hominy.
I wanna go back to Dixie, be a real ol' Dixie pixie
And eat corn pone til it's comin' outta my ears - Tom Lehrer

Anyway, feeling a little delicate the following morning, we had a talk from a rep from the Atlanta returned Peace Corps volunteer group (just like JET only you don't get paid). Much of the rest can be safely skipped over til the evening session, which featured some good ol' southern cooking at a semi-legendary place in Atlanta by the name of Mary Mac's. Everyone in Atlanta knows this place, apparently, and no doubt, the food was great. Chicken and dumplin's, fried okra, fried green tomatoes, corn bread, roast turkey, candied yams, meat loaf, gravy, all the fixin's. It was wonderfully tasty (though incredibly heavy, especially on the carbs), not dissimilar to a Thanksgiving dinner, especially in the food coma it induced, which wasn't helped by the lack of sleep the previous night. Let the record also state that the lady delegates looked resplendent in their yukatas; a few of the guys were even wearing theirs, though I had left mine in England. There then followed a salsa lesson at a club back in the bar district; a distinctly ill-advised choice, considering the quantities of carbs sloshing around in our stomachs. I trod on quite a few toes - literally, not metaphorically, but I think I managed to make at least a start. As those of you who have seen me try to dance know, I am not a natural.

That was more or less it for the conference itself, really - all that remained was to have the Eastern conference the following day, at a very swanky Japanese restaurant out in the middle of a load of pawn shops, gentleman's clubs and porn shops. Not too surprised at this, really - I've always felt that parts of the South had a somewhat schizophrenic attitude to sex. On the one hand, naturally, there's the Bible belt influence and all it stands for...on the other, there's the old Southern Colonel asking his guest "Well, sir, shall we have a mint julep, or shall we retire to the hoahhouse?" If you know what I mean.

Anyway, it only remained for me to come back to New York, and in doing so I fulfilled a minor long-held aspiration of mine, namely to fly in something other than economy class for once in my life. American Airlines offered me an upgrade for the princely sum of $90, and not only did I take it, I charged it to JETAA, too. Happy Days. OK, it's not First Class on BA, but at least I got some legroom for once.

In Remembrance of Things Past; or, The Third Degree

I'm back safely in the US again now and back once again on the grindstone as I prepare for the coming term, which will see me start teaching and the evaporation of Columbia's reputation as an elite institution which will undoubtedly result.

While back in the UK, of course, I attended my MA ceremony, becoming a full-fledged member of the University of Oxford with full rights to vote in all matters of consequence and (I think) dining rights at Wadham, should I take leave of my senses for long enough to want to eat their food voluntarily. I've already explained elsewhere about the slightly bogus nature of this qualification, but the main point, really, was to allow my Mum to attend a graduation ceremony for the elder of her two sons, since she was not able to come to Columbia this May for my actual MA (the one I actually, you know, earned) and I took my BA in absentia while in Japan. Naturally, she took the opportunity to dress up to the nines. I can't remember when was the last time I was the centre of such undivided family attention.

I hadn't been back at Wadham in close to five years, so far as I can recall, and this September it will be ten years since I first went up to begin my studies. Which probably goes a long way towards explaining why, on wandering around the old college again, all the memories I have of the place seem like they happened a lifetime ago. So much has happened, so much changed since I was last there, that it's almost hard to believe that everything I can recall did even really happen to me. I took a stroll through the bar for old times' sake; funnily enough, almost all of the sporting trophies and photos hanging on the wall dated from my time, though obviously none of them featured me personally, given my (at times) spectacular ineptitude at most sports. All people I know - including you, Pocket, naturally. I did take a couple of shots of the bar, but I have temporarily mislaid the cable to connect my laptop to my camera...

The ceremony itself is vastly different to that at Columbia, so much so that I don't think you can even really compare the two. The robes are different, too - none of the tacky polyester crap that so devalues the Columbia MA. As you can see with Mum helping me on the left, I began wearing the BA gown and good - the white faux fur trim (oddly appropriate, for a fake degree) with a long gown, mortarboard, and everything. Under the gown one must wear a dark suit, white bow tie and dark shoes - no exceptions. Nobody was wearing shorts and t-shirt under their robes as some of the Columbia crew had been - a rather sniffy note in the bumf they send out beforehand stresses this, saying that it would be "embarrassing if candidates should be denied admission on account of their dress".

It's tradition, I think, for the college to provide lunch for everyone who's graduating, and so we dined in Hall. If you've never been to Wadham hall, think Harry Potter - it's not far off, though with considerably less magic and certainly fewer ghosts. For most people, anyway. And in true Wadham style, the food was dire. Really, really bad; certainly not worth the ￡13 or so per head they had the effrontery to charge, though I suspect that much of the budget went on the copious quantities of wine served with the meal. Anyway, let me tell you about the ceremony itself in the Sheldonian Theatre.


Graduands are presented in groups to the Vice-Chancellor according to our college by the Dean of Degrees for each institution. The ceremony, as befits that of an 800-year-old institution, is conducted mostly in Latin, and, as the Vice-Chancellor noted in his opening remarks (which I think most of the audience struggled to hear, since the acoustics in the Sheldonian are lousy, and there was no PA system to relay his voice), considerably more sombre than that of many other institutions. Dead right, though the problem was that all the pomp and circumstance, regimentation and deadly seriousness ended up coming perilously close to having the opposite effect; I think more than a few of the audience had some trouble suppressing giggles. Especially as the recipient of the degree is supposed to bow and give his or her oath in response to certain of the Vice-Chancellor's words, as well as walk the right way at the right time. This, obviously, has the potential to go somewhat awry, as the University sees no real need to tell anyone what they need to do more than an hour or two in advance. As you can see, the Sheldonian doesn't come close in size or scale to the Columbia campus as a venue, but it's very attractive in its own way.

So here's me being presented to the Vice-Chancellor, who's in the process of doffing his cap in recognition of my (ahem) achievements. I'm the one without the beard, incidentally, and yes, the Dean of Degrees is holding my hand. That's how we roll in England, my friend. I'm the only one there because, sadly enough, I was the only one there being awarded the MA that weekend. John and Debbie Huddlestone, good friends of mine seven years ago but with whom I have since lost touch, were taking their degrees in absentia, I learned from the program; but since they therefore weren't actually there, I didn't know anyone at Wadham apart from the porters, they who seem to exist in perpetuity in the Lodge.

Next, in groups of four, candidates are re-presented to kneel before the Vice-Chancellor and give their oath (by saying the Latin words do fidem) that they will comport themselves properly, not bring disgrace on the University, and act with propriety in matters concerning the election of University officials. The deal is sealed, as it were, by the VC touching each participant on the head with a New Testament as he or she kneels and invoking the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost (in Latin, as always). As this suggests, the ceremony is avowedly religious in nature; arrangements can, in these enlightened times, now be made for those of all faiths and none, or those to whom the invocation of the Man Upstairs, his kid and his insubstantial friend the Holy Ghost is somehow distasteful.

That concludes the first part of the ceremony, at least. You then go and change from the BA robe to the MA one - the idea, you see, is that you go from the vestments of the degree you have to the ones of the degree you are being awarded. Which means that, say, undergrads taking their BA wear the basic outfit - a short gown - until they are awarded their degree.

Once changed, we then are led in again, returning to the applause of the audience and assembled members of the University. Appearing once again before the VC, we then walk off to the left, and thus are inducted into the degree of Master of Arts (or Magister Artibus, as I think it's Latinised. MBA, a relatively recent innovation, is still Latinised as something like Magister Administratio Negotii or similar. One wonders quite how ridiculous the whole thing has to get before it's changed).



And then it's all over; you're outside the Sheldonian, looking for your family and standing on your own, looking vaguely ridiculous and holding a mortar board and souvenir brochure. Standing there reflecting on how much things have changed since your college days, how young all the undergraduates looked, and how you really can never go back.




We drove straight back to Cambridge afterwards, pausing on the way for fish and chips, which we ate in the car because it was raining. Between that and the graduation ceremony, it's hard to think of a day more quintessentially - nay, eccentrically - British.

Back now, though, and I won't be doing any more Pond-Hopping at least til Christmas, I would hope. I do have to get in a plane again very soon though, as I'm off to Atlanta next weekend for the JETAA national conference. Kate and I took the opportunity to get out of the city on Saturday to go to Long Beach (on Long Island, not in California), along with something like 10,000 other people. A beautiful hazy day on the Long Island coast to remind me I'm back again, I suppose.

I am a Man of Power and Influence!

I like to pretend I am, sometimes. Most of the time this usually goes on in my own somewhat fevered imagination; one has to do something to keep out the wailing demons of one's manic insanity, after all. Seems like the decent thing to do; after all, as Carl Carlsen of The Simpsons fame said, "If I didn't have inner peace, I'd go completely psycho on you guys, like, all the time".

Sometimes, though, things happen that enable me to buttress these delusions with something more substantial. Like when I got a phone call from the Consulate asking me if I would care to dine with the Japanese Ambassador and a few select guests on Sunday, and take in the Heisei Nakamura-za Kabuki performance afterwards, currently completely sold out to the end of its run at Lincoln Centre. Not a JET thing - the Ambassador personally requested that I be invited. The other guests? The Indian Consul to New York, the head of the Japanese-American Association of New York, and two Indian professors of economics from Columbia, who are on the Council for Foreign Relations. And me and Kate. Spot the odd couple out. Heh.

Still, it was a very swish afternoon; washoku lunch and polite conversation in sumptuous surroundings at the Ambassador's pad on 5th Avenue, and the best (and most expensive seats in the house) for the Kabuki. Normally I stay the hell away from Japanese theatre - there's a reason one branch of it is called No in my opinion - but this was awesome. I strongly suspect that the play, Hokaibo, was deliberately reworked for an American audience and made considerably funnier than normal, but it was a delight to watch. Course, the fact that I had a headset doing simultaneous translation from the Japanese and thus didn't miss anything can only have helped.

So for a few hours at least, I got to hang around in the halls of the mighty of the land and pretend that I'm one of them. Now, of course, the next thing to do is reflect on the irony of this, as I hold my credit card bill in one hand and wonder how the hell I'm going to pay it...

I'm off back to the UK for a little while, so I may be on hiatus for a week or so. Cheers!

Blowing Hot and Cold

It was, of course, the 4th of July two days after I got back to these shores. Being educated sorts, my readers will know all about the 4th July and its significance in the American calendar. It is, after all, a date well worth celebrating; Americans all over the country, from Alaska to Texas, rejoice in what the date signifies. Nothing other than freedom, and the fact that from that day onwards they would no longer be ruled over by a guy named George who only got the job because his Dad had it. Well, theoretically, at least...

Of course, you can't be cynical in these parts, even if it did quite literally rain on our parade. It was a balmy 14℃ when I got back, and it didn't get much hotter for the day itself, which was mostly spent at the still-splendiferous American Museum of Natural History, taking in their exhibition of mythical animals and an IMAX film about hunting for dinosaurs in the Gobi desert. Much like another well-known academic usually domiciled in New York (left), as a kid I had a quite encyclopedic knowledge of paleontology, and it's probably just as well I never visited the US before 2002, because if I had set foot in the dinosaur section of the AMNH, I would probably be there to this day.

In the evening, Kate and I joined Isaac in Brooklyn for fish and chips - the only sensible option on the 4th, really - and didn't see the fireworks. You can see 'em from last year's entry, if you really want - given the rain this year, that's probably a much better bet. Isaac lives in a magnificent brownstone in a very nice part of Brooklyn, which, when I think about it, is actually the first house (as opposed to apartment) I've been in in New York City.

Nothing much else to report, really - I've been slaving away in the library, though not altogether unwillingly, because (a) despite my continuous whining, I do actually love what I do, and (b), it's air-conditioned, which is particularly nice as the temperature's soared to 36℃ in the last day or two.

And I heard back from the Japanese Embassy in London. I didn't get the scholarship, or at least I probably won't get it, as they've decided to place me on the reserve list. I'm disappointed, obviously, but not all that surprised, for reasons I touched on in my post a week or so ago. Still, it is the least lucrative of the available scholarships, and I wasn't sure I was going to take it anyway - but a downer nonetheless, on what was otherwise a productive and enjoyable day.

Turn and Turn About

I didn't do very much in what remained of the week once I'd done my two interviews down in London - I just sat around and read most of the time, mainly with a view to killing time and not spending any money while doing so. I suppose the car-bombing news spiced things up a bit, and, if I may be excused a little solipsism here, kept my very impressive record of flying across the Atlantic just as terror plots fail in the UK (I flew back to the UK the day of the failed tube bombings in 2005, went back to the US in 2006 at the time of the alleged liquid bomb plot, and now this).

The flight back was one of the smoothest I've had in recent times, and as the plane was half-empty I was able to get a bulkhead seat, which allowed me room to stretch my legs. All in all it would have been one of the more pleasant crossings, were it not for the fact that it took me the best part of two hours to clear Immigration. That was by far the worst experience I've ever had at JFK. I counted around 400 or so people in the line, snaking around seven or eight lines deep, and the Customs and Border Protection people, in their infinite wisdom, had decided to have only one-third of their windows open. As if this wasn't daft enough, one of the plane-load of Jamaicans who made up the group of 400 decided that they couldn't be bothered lugging their bag all the way back and forth as the line zig-zagged along, and would just leave it in the middle and pull it through when she reached that point on the other side of the ropeline. Obviously not familiar with what the words 'Unattended Bag' tend to signify right at the moment. Dumb in the extreme.

Anyway, I'm back now, and I think we're all caught up. Nice to have you up to speed. I'm still jetlagged, though...

Know What You Can Change

Back down in London the following day for interview at the Japanese Embassy in London. The Japanese Embassy is just off Green Park, not far from Piccadilly Circus and Buckingham Palace, so there was time to do a little sight-seeing in the lunch break.

For something like this, one obviously needs to wear a suit and look respectable - not so much of an imperative at the US Embassy for a visa app, but for any interview, dressing up had to be the way to go. I had left one of the suits I had worn in Japan back at home for just this purpose, so I fished it out of the wardrobe to make sure it was OK. It wasn't. Lots of small, raggedy holes in the suit trousers.

Moths.

What the fuck? Moths? How, in this day and age...It seemed increasingly at this point as if - pace Blackadder - the course of my life really was strewn with cowpats from the very Devil's own Satanic herd. I fished around and managed to find a suit belonging to my late grandfather, which just about fit - though the arms were too long, and it was very heavy wool. In the event the weight didn't prove a problem - it was almost chilly down in London.

Anyway, the Japanese Ministry of Education (Monbusho) offers a scholarship in the range of 170,000 yen per month for eighteen months or two years, designed to allow graduate students to do research in Japan. This also includes a round-trip air ticket to Japan, so it's fairly handy, but more of that later. This was what I was applying for - I have to go to Japan from the autumn of 2008 to do fieldwork with a view to compiling my final PhD dissertation, and the department does not fund this, which means that we are obliged to apply to various charitable and private foundations and bodies in order to get them to stump up the cash to allow us to study in Japan and, at least in theory, contribute to the betterment of humanity.

A number of the foundations to which I would otherwise apply only accept applications from US Citizen or permanent residents. I am - as yet - neither, and so have to take every opportunity that presents itself. The pain in the arse is that Monbusho requires me as a UK citizen to interview in the UK pool. This sucks not only because of the cost and time the flight requires, but also because I know so many people at the Japanese Consulate in New York as a result of JETAANY activities that I think I'd probably be a dead cert for landing it, were I permitted to apply. A certain irony there, perhaps.

Anyway, the interview itself came first, to be followed by language tests in the afternoon. I think I gave a very good account of myself in the interview, half of which was in Japanese with a guy from the Embassy and half in English with an academic from SOAS (and graduate students at SOAS seemed to make up the vast majority of applicants). What I gave them in the interview was about as good as it could have been, I think - lucid, concrete and well-argued - but I'm still not sure I'll get the scholarship, for reasons largely beyond my control.

From the direction of their questions, I think the interview panel had some concerns that, firstly, as a recipient of an undergrad Monbusho scholarship and later a JET, I'd already had around $100,000 from the Japanese Govt over the last 7 years or so. Fair enough - can't really deny that, though I would also argue that I worked my butt off and damn well earned my JET salary (I'd have been lying through my teeth, of course, but I'd still argue it), and in any case, I can hardly change the past or give the money back. Secondly, they wanted to know where I planned to teach after getting my PhD. As a UK citizen enrolled at a non-UK University, I got the impression that they felt - quite reasonably - that since the pool was dedicated to the UK, it would not be a reasonable use of funds to pay for someone to complete his PhD in the US and then remain there to teach ever after. Again, I can't really argue with the logic of this, so I basically was as non-committally positive as I could be. Told them that I didn't know what would happen 3 years down the line, that I was fed up with crossing the Atlantic (which is completely true - I'll have done it 6 times this year by December) and wanted to spend more time with my friends and family (also true - up to a point...).

So we will see. I would hope that they would consider each application purely on its individual merits - I would think I stand a strong chance - but it would not be a major surprise if they felt that for the reasons outlined above the money would be better used for other applicants. The thing is, though, that I'm not 100% sure I would accept even if offered - it's very marginal, a matter of exchange rates, in fact, as to whether the scholarship is worth any more than what I'm getting at Columbia right now, and - here's the rub - the other scholarships with later deadlines are considerably more lucrative, in some cases paying twice or even three times what Monbusho offers. In a city like Tokyo, that could prove to be a major issue, especially if I have to pay market rate rents - I might end up having to get by on even less than I do here and now.

I dunno. I guess we'll have to see what happens - I'm rather getting ahead of myself in any case. Baby steps, baby steps...

Are you, or have you ever been...

So then back to London, to the US Embassy on Monday, and down again the following day for what was ostensibly the purpose of my trip, to go the the Japanese Embassy to interview for the Monbusho scholarship.

The US Embassy in London is in very classy surroundings just off Grosvenor Square. It's a large if undistinguished building, somewhat redolent of 60s style architecture (the kind that, if rumour is to be believed, inspired one of my friends' fathers to write a book entitled Kiss my Arch). To my surprise, while guarded by armed police (and for USAians, I should point out that when UK police are armed, they don't mess around with poncy handguns like American cops - see above), it was nowhere near as heavily fortified as was the US Embassy in Tokyo. Mostly it was cordoned off by the same sort of barriers that construction sites use to keep people out, and several concrete blocks likely designed (somewhat presciently, as it turned out) to prevent car bombs.

Security was very tight, as one would expect, but once inside there is little to do but wait. The drill is much the same as it was in Tokyo - you are given a number and called up twice, firstly to ensure that all your documents are in order, and then again around an hour later to have your actual consular interview.

I'm pretty sure that this isn't how it's meant to be, but the second interview was shorter than the first. It went like this, and was over in less than 30 seconds:

Consular Guy: So, Mr. Tuck, what are you studying at Columbia?
Me: Modern Japanese Literature. I've got my transcript here if you want to see it...
CG: No, you're in grad school, it's going to be all As anyway.
Me: Well, there's an A minus in there somewhere...
CG: Right, you're approved. Off you go.

And that was about it. The only remaining concern was, again, a matter of time - I was supposed to be flying out on the 2nd July, a Monday, and the Embassy recommends around five working days to process and return your passport, visa (which is attached to the passport) and I-20. An anxious few days could lie ahead, though the people running the courier firm desk at the Embassy seemed fairly confident it would be delivered by Friday. In the event, it was back in my possession by 9:55 a.m. on Thursday, which is frankly phenomenal. I suppose there are certain advantages to living so close to London.

I met Karen for lunch before my interview, and joined Matt and Nina for drinks and dinner that evening. All in good health and as charming as ever.

I-20, therefore I'm not

As I've already explained here, the I-20 is a form issued by the US Department of Justice that confirms one's bona fides as a student. I was issued with one initially when I came to Columbia as an MA student, and given a new one here in the US when I was accepted into the PhD program. It's a very important document - without it, you can't be issued a student visa, or enter the US even if you do have a valid visa. It's perhaps even more important than a visa, since, as I explained a month or two back, it's the validity of your I-20 and not your actual visa that determines how long one may stay in the US as a student.

And what did Muggins here do? He only went and brought the wrong bloody I-20 back, that's all. Oxford and Columbia, old chap, a highly educated individual. My arse. I was scheduled for an appointment at the US Embassy in London on June 21st (I didn't realise this at the time, but that date was exactly 2 years to the day after my visit to the US Embassy in Tokyo), so, like the organised, together and generally awesome person you all know me to be, the day before I was checking to make sure that all my documents were in order and filling out some forms needed for the interview. I went to check the admissions number on the I-20, only to find a very unwelcome MASTER'S in the section marked Program.

Oh, shit.

I'm not normally given to panic. In most of the stressful situations in my life thus far - mercifully few, luckily - I've generally managed to keep my composure. Not this time. The I-20 I had in my hand was completely useless. I was screwed. I couldn't be interviewed for a visa, much less enter the US. I had no idea what I was going to do - could I reschedule in time? How much would it cost me? How far back would I have to move my flight - would I have to stay in the UK for six weeks or - God help me - even more? How could I get the right I-20 sent to me? Could I go into the US on a tourist visa and get the damn thing? Unfortunately, owing to the time difference, I couldn't get any US advice on this as it was 5 a.m. EST - so I was going to have to stew. And as luck would have it, it was a Wednesday, on which day the International Student's and Scholar's Office (ISSO) at Columbia didn't open until 10:30 a.m.

It was a combination of the ISSO and my Dad that managed to calm me down and save my bacon, really. The ISSO were brilliant - they told me that under no circumstances could I enter the US as a tourist if I wanted to remain a student, but that they could FedEx me a replacement I-20 which ought to arrive in 2-3 days, and that that would do the trick. They were even cheaper than paying for FedEx costs off my own bat. Less than 48 hours later (allowing for the time difference) I had my form. When I called the US Embassy to explain, they allowed me to reschedule for the following Monday 25th at no extra cost (beyond that of the phone call, which is an extortionate ￡1.20 per minute).

It was looking like I might get out of this alive after all.

There and back again

I'm back in New York now, after two weeks back in Blighty. I haven't blogged for nearly three weeks, something which is rather remiss of me, but I really cannot be bothered to blog on a dial-up connection. So I'm going to do a catchup of events in reverse order, and break it up a bit so it's a little easier to read.

Before heading off back to London, we had the JETAANY Pre-Departure Orientation at the Nippon Club on West 57th Street (it occurred to me only too late that the abbreviation we had been using amongst JETAANY members for this thing, PDO, could be read in a rather unfortunate way if the lector were so minded...). We rounded up around 20 volunteers in the end, all of whom strove manfully to get as much information into the newbies' heads as possible. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't - the rest is up to them, really. But for even the most cynical ex-JET there's always something charmingly innocent, even puppy-like, about the newbies. It's increasingly clear that many of 'em didn't really know what they were getting themselves into - one hopes they do now, otherwise things could get a little messy. Obviously some of the newbs haven't ever been abroad, so I think their preconceptions and naivety may not have very long to last. Best example, probably, was the person who asked if they could upgrade to a Business Class ticket if they paid the difference between the fares. They were told by the travel reps that indeed they could, and that would be a cool $8,000, or $13,000 if First Class would be preferable. I didn't catch the questioner's reaction.

Neither Here nor There

Summer doesn't seem to really know whether it's arrived in Manhattan yet; it's noticeably cooler than it was this time last year, and I was even (amazingly for mid-June in New York) rather cold last night. The reason why I can remember enough to make a comparison is that this time last year was the World Cup and also my first real involvement with JETAANY, as we held the pre-departure orientation for all the new JETs leaving from NYC. I - as always - was dressed impeccably in a suit, and remember being distinctly uncomfortable at the heat.

This year's orientation should be a lot of fun, though of course where I was unknown to almost everybody in 2006, I'm now going in there as El Presidente himself. I like to think that I worked my way up to the top through charisma, talent and strength of personality, but as we all know it was basically because nobody else wanted the job. Still, for this orientation at least I've done a significant portion of the work required to get all of the volunteers organised to give all the workshops and discussion sections. So fingers crossed.

I even get to give a short speech. I was going to make this joke:

"JET helps to dispel stereotypes, on both sides. I'm sure all of you have some pre-conceived notions about Japan, but bear in mind that the reverse is true. Many of the Japanese you meet will think that all Americans eat fast food, live in enormous houses and always carry guns. Though you might want to encourage that last stereotype - it'll make it easier to keep order in the classroom."

Now, of course, after Virginia Tech, I think it would be decidely unwise to link guns and classrooms in any way whatsoever. Oh well.

I've been working at about half-pace the rest of the time, inching slowly towards getting my papers and so forth done, and I also completed and sent of the application for the Mombusho (MEXT) Scholarship. If I get an interview, it'll be on the 25th of this month; I don't know for certain that I will, obviously, but I would be rather surprised if I didn't get so much as called in to discuss my proposal, which I thought was quite good.

Elsewhere, it was Kate's birthday, and making good on a long-held promise I took her to Megu for a culinary extravaganza. The place is simply phenomenal; the food, atmosphere and decor are all just unbelievable (though with prices to match). The two meals I've had at Megu have just been two of the best in my life, and on neither occasion did I leave feeling like I needed to go and get a slice of pizza to fill me up, as is not uncommon with some of the more expensive places, Japanese or otherwise. They do a 7-course prix fixe menu for $85 a head, which is actually fairly good value. I had beef and chicken tsukune, duck breast with sansho pepper sauce, lychee granita, and the best sushi I've had in New York. Kate loved it, too - a very successful evening.

And I'm back to the UK on Monday, so if any of the UKians are around, beers on.

Everything Can Change

Lyin' here in the darkness
I hear the siren wail
Somebody going to emergency
Somebody's goin' to jail - New York Minute, The Eagles

A few more details about Malik’s murder have emerged, though the whole affair is still distinctly sketchy (in both an north American and British sense). No-one seems quite sure exactly why he was shot, nor what relation – if any – the kid who pulled the gun was to him. Having turned himself in, the 17-year-old will now probably spend most of the rest of his life on Riker’s Island. Thanks for coming – see you when you’re 70, and thereby are two lives destroyed. Not that I have any great sympathy for the murderer. Perhaps what strikes me most about the whole incident is how utterly banal and pointless the whole affair seems. A guy goes out for a late-night visit to a crappy Chinese takeout and is murdered while waiting for his General Tso’s Chicken. The takeout’s cash register likely had no more than a couple of hundred bucks in it. And the next day life in this great city goes on, just as before.

I didn’t know it at the time, of course, but when Dad was here for graduation I took him to Citarella, the gourmet store on 125^th. We walked right past the Chinese where Malik was killed; my point was to show how Harlem was beginning to gentrify.

There was hardly any coverage in anything but the Columbia Spectator and the New York Post; even the other tabloids in the city didn't mention it. I don’t know why this should be; maybe it’s just that New York is too jaded to care any more, but the cynical side of me imagines a news editor making the decision that a black man being gunned down by black kid in Harlem isn’t that newsworthy. Same old, same old - what else is new?

Anyway. I’ve been working steadily on grant proposals and paper research, seeing Kate when time allows it, and attending or organizing various JETAANY events and dinners. Summer has arrived, and with it the hot inescapable stickiness that permeates the very air around here at this time of year and seems to cling to you as you walk down the street. It’s arguably worse than Japan; for all that people talk of the heat in Japan, my three summers in Tohoku were relatively mild, and I did at least have a salary on which to run the air conditioning.

Summer heralds migrations, especially in a University area like Morningside Heights. People leave – the lease for UAH housing is up, and on Thursday (the last day of the month) the streets were thronged with people laden down with backpacks and hoisting stuff into removal vans. Much like last year, I grabbed a load of stuff from friends and acquaintances moving out, filling in almost all of the stuff that I had lacked in my place. Small stuff, mostly – wine glasses, plants, a chest of drawers, even an air conditioning unit (which, for the record, doesn’t work very well – I’ve gone back to just using fans. They’re less expensive, too). The packrat instinct is strong in this one.

No words, again

I just learned today that one of my colleagues in the Law Library was shot and killed in what seems to have been an attempted robbery at a Chinese takeout five blocks from here. I knew the guy pretty well; he did Aikido, and was interested in all things Japanese, so he used to drop by the library for a chat with Yukino and myself on occasion. He used to bring his son in to work from time to time, too. He worked in the copy room and I saw him every time I got sent in to make some processing slips or something. It happened nearly three weeks ago, and since my supervisor was back in Japan these last two weeks I only just found out. Nobody at the library said anything, and it didn't seem to make any headlines.

The last time I saw him was when I ran into him at the Sakura matsuri in Brooklyn, shortly before he was murdered. Still can't believe this happened.

Beginnings and Endings

Commencement this week, referring of course to the enormous ceremony that marks the end of the school year and the official conferral of degrees. I was eligible to take part since I had earned my MA, awarded sequentially on the way to the PhD, in February. These things are probably more exciting for the proud parents than the students themselves (though with undergraduate education at Columbia costing around $55,000 per year, both are surely entitled to a bit of ceremony), and Dad was here to see it all happen. It was, funnily enough, my first graduation ceremony of any kind; we don't have high school graduation in the UK, and I took my BA in absentia, though the Oxford MA ceremony will come later this summer. I suppose seeing how they do it on this side of the pond serves as a point of reference.

Each of Columbia's 19 schools has its own separate ceremony, followed the day after by a university-wide Commencement. Attire is of course cap and gown, a (to my mind) somewhat odd light blue colour, those being the colours of the University. It's different for BA, MA and PhD - as you can see in the photos, the PhD is much more luxurious, though hopefully in a few years I'll be wearing one of those myself. The Convocation, for the GSAS, was on Tuesday and held indoors in one of the University's auditoria. It took about 90 minutes, during which time we were photographed in front of the American flag and while shaking hands with the Dean, after being subjected to a couple of fairly mediocre speeches from the assorted faculty and one wide-eyed Iranian graduating student, whose address, though well-delivered, verged rather too much on being a polemic for the occasion. Wonder what the folks back home'll make of his shot in front of Ol' Glory?

The big one, though, is Commencement. As you can see from the photos, this one is held in the main quad of the University campus, and while I couldn't really see from my position, they welcomed something in the region of 25-30,000 people that day. The atmosphere was perhaps best described as a cross between a graduation and the Last Night of the Proms; an occasion for celebration, not for sombre ceremony as I fear we may get at Oxford, most notably for the Columbia College graduates (i.e., undergrads) for whom it represented the culmination of four years of varying degrees of application.

The main speaker was University President Lee C. Bollinger, whose address struck roughly the right note for the occasion - light-hearted, with a certain degree of the patriarch's advice to his charges about it. Honorary degrees were awarded, the Dean of each school requested the President to formally award the degrees, which - by the power vested in him - he did, and that, after about three hours, was that. We filed out to Frank Sinatra's New York, New York, not least because, as Bollinger said, "if you can make it here, you'll make it anywhere".

All good clean fun, though sitting out in the sun for that length of time with temperatures touching 30℃ was not the most pleasant of experiences. At least it didn't rain like it did last year.

In other news, I have my TA marching orders for next year. I'll be teaching East Asian V2361 Intro East Asian Civ: Japan, which is a survey lecture course on more or less the whole of Japanese history. I'm delighted by this appointment; although it's probably a bit more work than some of the other courses, it's ground I'm very familiar with, and the senior Professor, David Lurie, is a great guy - he's one of the younger faculty members here and his kanbun class was enormous fun this past semester. So basically, I have to mark papers, lecture a couple of times, and hold discussion section for two groups of fifteen students once each per week. I have no doubt it'll be very hard work, but this is rather what I signed up for, so I'm definitely up for it.

In other news, for reasons related to applying for scholarships for Autumn 2008 to go to Japan, it looks like I'll have to cross the Atlantic at least twice this summer. Nice to get to spend some time in Blighty, of course, but given my druthers I'd rather do it in just one swing than have to shuttle back and forth...

Trees' Company

The day after coming back from DC, I went down to the Botanical Gardens in Brooklyn for the Sakura Matsuri. As you can see, the flowers in Brooklyn were still a good few days off being really mankai, but they were still very pretty, and seeing as I'd not been to the BBG before, it seemed like a good way to waste a Saturday afternoon when I really should have been working, and to tell everyone about how the meeting with Abe had gone. As you might expect, there was a fairly strong contingent from JETAANY and related organisations; one could also spot a sizeable number of what must have been anime geeks dressed up as ninjas or wearing weirdo black and white numbers (if you've been to Harajuku on a Sunday afternoon, you'll know the kind of thing I'm on about. See below for reference).

The weather held, luckily enough, and it was even warm enough for me to get a little bit of a tan through the intermittent cloud cover. Kate and I left around 4 after a little stroll through other parts of the garden; it's very pretty, and well worth a repeat visit, though living where I do I obviously don't get down there that often. Parenthetically, I grew up with the Durham University Botanical Gardens at the bottom of our garden way back in the mists of time, so maybe I'm a bit blase about the whole botanical thing...

We went to see Hot Fuzz that night. It owns. See it.

Tuesday I had dinner at Kai, a very swish Japanese place on Madison Av., as part of a gathering in honor of the recipients of the Honjo/JAANY scholarship I mentioned a while back. The food, as is often the case with the really upscale Japanese places in NYC, was excellent, but there was nowhere near enough of it, and I wound up getting a slice of pizza on the way home. The people there as reps of JAANY were pretty much a who's who of business in the city; two CEOs, two partners in city law firms, a VP at Merril Lynch...you get the picture. And there was me as a scabby, impoverished graduate student trying to work out what the hell to talk about, but everyone there was really nice. And, of course, I actually got my hands on the money...

I'm told that this blog has achieved a measure of fame in the last couple of days, since it was discovered by one of the guys I talked to at the DC reception, and forwarded on to the Japanese embassy, which then proceeded to send the link to all of the consular offices in the US. All I can say is, it's a good job that last post wasn't anything like most of the previous 256, or most likely my ass would have been grass by now. I don't quite know what the procedures for impeachment of a JETAANY president are, but I'm in no hurry to find out.

And while we're on the subject...what the hell? One comment on that last post? I meet with the Japanese PM and all sorts of important people - probably the single most interesting thing that's happened to me in the last two years - and that's the best you lot can muster in response? You do realise that the entire diplomatic staff of Japan in the USA now has me pegged as billy-no-mates? Jeez...

This is why I have a blog in the first place.

Washington, D.C., April 27th, 2007. Prime Minister Abe Shinzo's first trip to the US, his first meeting at Camp David with President Bush, and, of far greater historical importance than any of that, his first meeting with me.

Four of us took the train down from New York - JETAANY Secretary Carol, Sasaki-san of the Japan Local Govt. Center in New York, JET Alum Linda Kim (invited because she was in Yamaguchi, Abe's home prefecture) and myself. That's us in a group at Union Station in D.C., just as we arrived at about 11:00 a.m. Along the way we had caused a minor scandal by talking in the quiet car, being asked politely but firmly by the ticket collector to move (hee hee). It wasn't the first time I had been to D.C. - I was there with my Dad and brother in 2002 - and it was more or less the same as I had remembered. We passed through Newark, Trenton, Wilmington and Baltimore on the way - Baltimore looked like a bombsite, at least what we could see from the train, some of the worst urban blight I think I've ever seen. Not everything is skyscrapers and investment banks on the east coast.

We had been scheduled to meet with the junior senator from Delaware, Tom Carper, in the morning, but that apparently was cancelled at the last minute. I'm still not entirely sure why we were meant to be meeting him in the first place, but we filled in by going to a place in downtown D.C. called Kaz's Sushi Bistro for lunch, which was excellent, especially as it was all on expenses. Dessert was particularly good - banana tempura and black raspberry ice cream, absolutely to die for. I need to find out where I can get some black raspberries so I can make some myself.

Spending almost all of my time in New York, one comes to think, wrongly, that everywhere in the US is like the Big Apple. It isn't. Despite its size and importance, DC feels much more relaxed than New York...people stroll. Nobody strolls in New York, damn it. We even saw a couple of people with smiles on their faces, and even the cabs weren't all yellow. O brave new world!

We got to the Ambassador's residence at about 2:30, around half an hour before the event was meant to begin. Or at least we thought it was his residence - it turned out that it was just the house of some random person, though as you can see the cherry blossoms planted by the hedge were worthy of note of themselves. After about 20 minutes we realised our mistake and walked a couple of blocks over to where the residence actually was.

The residence, as you might expect, is one serious piece of real estate. Inside it's quite astonishingly luxurious, possessing both a massive Japanese-style garden and a tea house to boot, as well as large reception rooms decorated in a peculiarly Japanese style of opulence that seems to be stuck in the 70s. If you've been in the conference rooms at the Keio Plaza or the Tokyo Hilton, you know what I'm talking about - flock wallpaper, large chandeliers made out of triangular bits of glass, you know the thing. It's hard to describe, but it is very distinctive.

Format for the day was to mingle first with other ex-JETs present, mostly from DC, but some from as far away as Oregon and Alaska. As a 2003-05 vintage, I was one of the most recent returnees; there was one guy with whom I talked for a while who'd been an Original - one of the first to go out in 1987, back before there was internet, skype, or indeed any sense of what a JET was actually supposed to be doing (some may argue the latter hasn't changed much). So we mingled and chatted and so forth for about an hour, before the main event - the PM's arrival.

With us lining up in the main reception room, Abe came in, chatted to a few of the people nearest to him, and then got up onto the podium to make a speech. As you can see from the photo, I was in the front row on the left and very close to the PM indeed. His speech - entirely in Japanese - lasted about four or five minutes, and was more or less what you would expect; he talked about his visit to Camp David that morning, about how happy he was that the JET program had celebrated its 20th anniversary that year, and how important it had been in US-Japan relations. Following that, I had kind of wondered whether he might pack up and go at that point, but to his credit, he didn't. Accompanied by his wife and Deputy Cabinet Secretary Shimomura Hakubun, Abe worked his way around the room, making a point of shaking hands with everyone there and talking to them for at least a minute or two.

Which, of course, included me. The President and the PM meet face to face. On your right, you can see yours truly telling it like it is to ol' Shinzo. We spoke for about two minutes - reading my name badge, he asked if I spoke Miyagi-ben, to which I replied んだちゃ, and I told him I was doing a PhD in Japanese literature and what my research field was. He responded that this was a very important field, not studied very much outside Japan (which isn't actually true, but still) and that he hoped I could be a bridge 架け橋 between Japan and the US in future. I didn't point out that I'm not American - no need to confuse matters further.

He was followed by his wife, with whom I spoke for a little while, telling her that the smokestacks from the powerplant in Shiogama had ruined the bay view at Matsushima and they ought to do something about it (well, it came up in conversation - and hey, you never know).

Then came Shimomura, with whom I and the guy next to me (a professor of Japanese anthropology at MIT, and a fellow Miyagian - Kurikoma, as it happens. More juicy networking goodness) had a three or four minute conversation. I told him about my research on Michizane, which he said sounded interesting, and that I should tell him about it when I was next in Japan. Even got the dude's meishi.

And that more or less wrapped it up. Abe was good enough to pose for an individual photo with everyone there, which was taken by the Japanese press and which will apparently be sent on c/o the New York consular office, so I'll post that as soon as I have it. We took a moment to inspect the tea house and the garden inside the residence, and to have our photos taken outside the main gate, and that was that. We took a taxi back to Union Station, and just managed to catch the last express train back to NYC. The sun was setting just as we were crossing what I think was the Delaware river - not a bad way to end the day.