The arrangement of the 1/9 trains in upper manhattan and the bronx is an odd one. Since there are only two tracks, there can't be a true local/express arrangement, in which one train would have to be able to pass another. Instead, during rush hours only, each train only stops at every other stop, with the 1 having one set of stations, and the 9 having the other set. This way all the trains are going faster, the idea being that, particularly during rush hours, there is much much more ridership in mid and lower manhattan than upper (several times I've been alone in a car for a few stops, which is a fun time to sing loudly), so it's better if there are more trains in that area while the ones in upper manhattan zip around without inconveniencing too many people. The problem (and it is more one of my own anger level than of the system functioning) is that for reasons unknown, the MTA seems unable to create trains that are clearly defined as 1 or 9. There are indicators of the train's designation on its front, back, and once or twice on the side of each car, and very often these contradict each other. Alright, I think, perhaps I should trust the one on the front, since that's where the conductor is and therefore it's conveniently updated if the train has to switch designations. Nope, turns out I can't trust that. Alright, the front can be overridden if all the ones on the side are the other number. Nah, that doesn't seem to hold either. In fact it seems to be almost random whether or not the train stops. Usually there is a fairly steady alternation of 1's and 9's, but sometimes this breaks down as well. This isn't 'Nam damn it, there are rules!
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Coming home on the train today, I was joined by a mother and daughter. The mother was white and the daughter was about 10 years old and appeared to be Japanese. Then they started conversing, and the girl spoke perfect English in a British accent. I can't say exactly why, but I found this person utterly fascinating. The things she was saying weren't terribly sophisticated, mostly revolving around which streets the stops were on and such, and yet the way she talked made her seem so precocious and worldly. Every time I went back to my studies, I found my ears disagreeing with my mind, and had to look back to make sure someone that looked like this really sounded like this. A few times I entertained the notion that she was really American, and was performing a childishly extended impersonation. But I hope I don't mean purely her accent and her race, though it is a rare combination; I think truly there was something special about both her voice and her face, something mature, sincere and peaceful.
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Progress report: I didn't exactly plan it, but the intensity of my Japanese studies has continued to increase. This has correlated with an increase in the regimented nature of my day, which feels unnatural but necessary. I now make a first pass of learning on 4-7 Kanji per day, read the textbook on the train at the rate of about a chapter per week to week and a half, do auxiliary reading before bed (currently the excellent "Using Japanese" by William McClure), and review Kanji flashcards of my own making at any other moment of the day when I cannot open a book and my attention is not otherwise fully occupied. I just discovered that the obscure WMBC shows an assortment of Japanese television shows from 10pm-11pm every day except Sunday, so I have added this to the routine, which for a while has included 1-3 hours of viewing on Sunday, on the international channel. At work I read the Mainichi Shimbun and the Japanese Slashdot site during breaks.
I've got 500 Kanji down fairly solidly, and have made the first pass on numbers 501-545. I've made it most of the way through my textbook. The more important part is what I can do with that. In reading, I feel I am getting closer and closer to the top of a slope, tumbling off of which represents true understanding without the use of reading aids to decode the Kanji words. Occasionally I experience the satisfaction of being able to read a whole (short) sentence of a newspaper article. The tv-watching experience is odd; I often find that I understand a lot more when I look away from the screen. Partly this is because they like to show subtitles, in Japanese, either for emphasis or to alleviate the problem of too many homophones and mumbled or fast speech. So of course I have the urge to try to read them, and of course I get through about one word before they're yanked off the screen. Meanwhile the syllables are whizzing by my ears. Yet the second I look down I understand lots of words, although I rarely get a long enough string of them to get any larger meaning. Speaking remains the larger question, though I am feeling out the more deserted sushi restaurants for one where I might be brave enough to sit at the bar and strike up a dialogue with the itamae-san.
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A few days ago I got a check for $13.86 from the CD MAP Antritrust Litigation. Hooray! And no, RIAA, I'm afraid I don't forgive you.
