Apparenty Not a DVD Recorder

Ali sent me a package today and had told me that there was something extra in it. I knew it was the wedding DVD - her video-grapher friend sent the DVD from Manhattan to Tokyo and then Ali sent it back to Newark. From the size of the box, I thought the "extra" might be the DVD recorder that Kohei promised me the day he went home. According to the letter that came with the box, it's sake but Ali doesn't know if it's any good. Oh, and two sake glasses and some chocs. I'm set.

300... Air Guitarists

Jukka. Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? It's a homonym to Yuka, so it's not like Ali can ever say she can't pronounce it. It doesn't have -ko on the end of it so Ali can't exercise her veto, and the twist is that Jukka is a dude's name. I don't think Finns have those names what both genders use like Hindi or something. Either way: Jukka for a boy or Yuka for a girl.

Nope. Sorry, this ain't a post about the movie 300, instead it's a wee rant about baby names with a piece on a documentary sandwiched in. The documentary is opening locally Friday and is called Air Guitar Nation. Technically, this film isn't starring anybody, but it centres around an actor named David Jung aka C-Diddy, and another guy who just won't take no for an answer. Dan Crane's stage name is Björn Töuroque and the story basically takes off from there.

Sensing a lack of American representation in a, well let's call it a competition, documentary film maker Kriston Rucker decides to promote the Air Guitar World Championships and find someone decent enough to represent the US. As it happens, the winning American was chosen at the first set of tryouts, but another person seems to think that he is the real talent and shadows the American winner to Oulu, Finland for the competition. Essentially, Rucker had no better reason to promote (send someone to) this competition other than the fact that no American had been officially entered into the contest. There are attempts in the film to play up the anti-American sentiment that was prevalent in much of Europe at the time, but there were also reminders of why the contest was ever conceived. The event organizers wanted everyone to play air guitar so that they wouldn't hold a gun. After a lame attempt to cause some friction between one of the Americans and some Austrian contestants, it's pretty clear that no one is a hater.

Of course, in a Cinderella-type story Jung is the overall winner in Oulu and unfortunately for Crane, the three-time loser is not able to make an impression the following year. It's a nice kind of film - the story of an actor who's always had to prove himself to his traditional Korean family who wanted him to go into medicine vs. a guy who, if nothing else, lives for air guitar. The viewers are introduced to a group of people who take the hobby very seriously. Some sort of division apparently exists between American air guitarists who only think it's fun and their international counterparts who really take the thing to a whole new level. Boot camps, zen philosophies, entourages - it's not just a hobby for some people.

When I won the preview passes to this film, I knew it would be a little like The Aristocrats, and there was only one person I could think of to watch the movie with. I didn't find too many funny moments in the film, but my buddy could hardly drink his coffee without coughing because of all the jokes. Of course, being Scandinavian maybe there were more jokes for him than for most. There was however, that unfortunate phenomenon at many preview screenings: the drunk prize winner. In our case, the guy was having entirely too much fun for one person and probably felt like he was right there amongst the reindeer, cheering on the contestants. Maybe he wasn't drunk, maybe he just doesn't get out often - it's hard to tell, but he ruined it for at least a few viewers.

In a way, I'd like to see Ali in the tryouts next year. She plays a mean air guitar, and has the head banging down pat when it comes to Black Sabbath. And she's got the vertical leap too. Really, I just want a reason to go to Finland and practice the language/accent. There's just not enough of it in Formula One anymore. Actually, there's more than usual but I haven't got cable.

If Ali had her way the choices of a baby name would be limited to one of those dreadful boy bands what aren't around anymore. And if it's a girl (which I hope it is) then Ali's screwed. There's only one girl band she knows of and I'm not naming my kid Scary or Sporty or whatever.

Some Interesting Developments

What a month! I really should be studying for an exam right now, but I’m not – it’s like the least important thing on my list. My biggest problem is the lack of a DVD burner on my computer. My wedding photographer put all the photos on DVD discs and I have no way to make copies for Ali. I’m not complaining, the guy did me a big solid – flying out from LA on Oscars’ weekend with his crew (free of charge) because he felt that my little wedding was more important than shooting stars on the red carpet. Or maybe it was a chance to see Sissy again. I just learned how to turn the flash off on my camera yesterday, so learning to use the DVD burner should be loads of fun.

The engagement officially lasted a whole three days, and the actual time spent with the in-laws was maximized on purpose. Kohei turned out to be not so scary. Genya is much more menacing, but I think physical stature has a lot to do with that. Kohei turned out to be quite a joker. It’s easy to see where Ali gets her sense of humour from. The day they arrived, I went round to their hotel in my beautifully maintained Jeep and took them out for sushi so that they could meet Bob and the rest of my immediate family. It was a little crowded. Enzo and Kohei got along pretty well. He actually talked Enzo into eating raw fish. I took note of his cunning negotiating tactics. Of course, Bob had earlier invoked the “either/or” rule and somehow got himself uninvited to the wedding. Undaunted, he showed everyone he was still a big macher and handed my fiancée an envelope. Politely, we declined to open it but the next day I nearly fainted. The week before at Chinese New Year, I had received my first and only ang pow, and was quite surprised at the content of that envelope. It had nothing on Bob’s envelope. I took it to the bank immediately, and it will cover the cost of the wedding with lots of room to spare. We could have taken a honeymoon with the residual – oh wait. No we couldn’t. Ali made that clear from the very start. No honeymoon.

The next day I took the inlaws out for Malaysian food. A new restaurant with “the best Hokkien mee outside of KL”. The owner is very gung-ho about his new shop. “No place else has this dish, at least not this good”. That’s a challenge if I ever heard one. Ali and her mum had laksa, Kohei had the beef rendang and I had the char kway teow. We shared a plate of Hokkien mee, and a couple roti canai. Pretty good – my wedding diet was now dead – but there might have been a place or two in Singapore where I might have had better Hokkien mee. Can’t say really, quality is so subjective. Back to the hotel for sake, oysters and salsa. You can take Kohei out of Mexico, but you can’t take Mexico out of Kohei. Friday was a more casual day. I left Baby at home for this one, and got a hold of a sweet Chrysler 300. Orange Peel planned a get together with my mum’s side of the family and my niece gave us some spare rings in case I was stupid enough to lose the other rings. She heard I was stupid. My aunt carefully listened as I clarified a few things with the kinfolk, jotting down little details which she would later use in a speech at the wedding. She basically stole half my speech, but I acquitted myself quite well when the time came.

The day of the wedding, I did everything Sissy had written on the schedule. I drove to the hotel in the Chrysler to meet with the photographer. Sissy warned me and she was right. As soon as we got in the hotel room door it was a free for all. Flashes going off everywhere, and Ali wasn’t even back from the hair salon yet. We were a bit late getting from the hotel to the wedding. There was no way I was going to become a bad cliché – I was getting to my wedding on time. Completely forgetting that Kohei had never seen the surroundings, I drove like a bat out of hell to get to the venue. Perhaps I was trying to show off my wheelman skills as a potential job interview, but I was mostly pissed at the tourists stopping in the middle of the parkway to take snaps. The moment had come to unleash the full eight cylinders. Mrs. Kobayashi managed to maintain composure in the back seat chatting up a storm with Ali, but I noticed in the rear view that Kohei was looking a little sick and hanging on for dear life, silently. That was the tell, he wasn't talking, so when we made it through the tourist traffic, I slowed down. We ended up getting there early, but Ali wasn't very happy. Her disappointment was brief.

Sissy, Orange Peel and my cousin Cece made sure everything went off perfectly. A small wedding and reception for thirty people was on order and it's exactly as Ali and I had imagined. My only regret was that it was over a lot sooner than I probably would have wanted. I didn't feel I was the best host (technically, I wasn't the host) because I was trying to entertain the guests and at the same time trying to give the photogs everything they wanted. After the reception we shlepped around downtown getting MORE photos - 1500 in total.

After the wedding, some of the family went out for a relaxing dinner. And the in-laws left the next day. We eventually figured out how to use the sunroof, about a half hour before I had to return the 300. I got a day off work so that Ali and I could sort out her koseki and then she left a few days later.

I haven’t been doing a lot of movie watching lately, but did happen to catch A Touch of Pink starring Suleka Mathew and Jimi Mistry. I won’t spend too much time on this except to say that I was a little upset that Suleka was cast to portray the mother. When I learned of this movie, I thought she’d portray the girlfriend or something closer to her real age. There was, for some reason, an actor portraying Cary Grant in the film. I didn’t understand this at first and thought perhaps the filmmaker, Ian Iqbal Rashid was trying to suggest something about Grant’s personal life. It all became clear in the end that Grant is how Mistry’s character imagines his father, a man he doesn’t truly remember. Linguistically, I have to say well done to all the actors, especially to Kyle MacLachlan, the guy who played Grant. Apparently, all the american actors used false English/Indian accents while Mistry faked an American one. Mistry was probably the weakest actually, his accent would stray now and then. Lastly, this film is not unlike Hsi yen, a film made more than ten years earlier starring Winston Chao, and pretty much like every other film about interracial relationships. I guess we could always use one more.

Work is moving along, evil Tintin is now just inexplicably irritated Tintin. My contract could wind up any day now, but that’s okay because I’ve got other plans. Married life is pretty much the same as usual right now. Ali’s back in Japan, and Kohei eagerly awaits my arrival. I just need my passport for that and I’m set. The question of exactly how long I’ll be in Japan still has to be resolved, but it’ll probably be longer than most of my trips. I’m toying with the idea of going for three months, but then I thought about leaving everything here alone for three months and decided that maybe two months or one month would be better.