How not to win an appeal

A 30-year-old man appealing a ruling of death for killing and robbing four people in separate cases in Nagano and Aichi prefectures in 2004 said Wednesday he had killed another woman in Fukushima in 2003.

In a hearing at the Tokyo High Court, Shojiro Nishimoto said, “I killed a woman probably in the city of Fukushima in around April or May of 2003,” adding that he abandoned her body “in the mountains.”

“I hit her while inattentively driving a car…(and)…strangled her with a rope as she made a struggle,” he said.

Totally defensible!

(full story)

Google Japan update

Joe has posted a couple of times on the annoyances of trying to use Google services on Japanese cell phones. The biggest problem has been the fact that mobile Gmail, while working fine for English, has actually not been able to display Japanese text on a Japanese mobile phone. Until now. I am happy to report that, perhaps starting as recently as this week, I now have no trouble reading Gmail messages in Japanese on my phone.

Panamanian Frogopalypse

A deadly fungus is sweeping across Cenral America, extinguishing species after species of amphibian. Over 120 species are known to have succumbed so far, and biologists fear that if nothing is done, all remaining species in the region could be annihilated as well. At the moment, a treasured species of golden frog is clinging to existence inside the walls of a “crumbling backpackers’ hangout.” Conservationists, with the support of desperate frog-loving locals, are taking drastic measures to keep their land full of these fragile, colorful, and sometimes mildly translucent creatures.

With the public quelled, the frog rescue project turned to its next phase: building a state-of-the-art center at a private zoo in El Valle to house the delicate frogs. The nearly completed center will be the ecological equivalent of a nuclear fallout shelter, a refuge from a toxic environment and an uncertain future.

While I imagine most readers will be reminded of Noah’s ark, my first thought when I read this was of the science fiction novel I Am Legend, by Richard Matheson, in which a lone surviving human stays holed up in a fortified building in the middle of a city, fighting off daily attacks by crazed plague-spawn vampires. Hmmm, a community of Brian Jacques style anthropomorphic frogs in a Panamanian rainforest-esque setting, mutated into ravenous beasts by a strange fungus, only one frog left untouched. Or better yet, The Wind in the Willows is in the public domain. It could be a sequel- Toad of Toad Hall, no longer content with puttering around the home countryside in his “magnificent motor-car” decides to go on a grand Central American expedition, but little does he know that in the jungle there lurks an unexpected danger…

Visa run to Penang… so far so good

For some reason I didn’t bring the USB link to my camera, so you’ll have to wait until Friday or so before I can show you this place. From what I’ve seen, Penang is much more laid back than, say, the tourist destinations in Thailand. The island is somewhat big and tourism is not the only industry. I’m staying in the Chinatown neighborhood of George Town, the largest city. Being the diverse mix of ethnic Malays, Chinese, and ethnic Indians, that Malaysia is, the streets are a mix of Chinese street signs, Indian curry shops, colonial buildings (the settlement was started on this previously uninhabited island by the British East India Company in the 18th century), and various religious buildings of various faiths.

Today is a national holiday marking the end of Ramadan. I woke up to the sound of the Muslim call to prayer and went to eat breakfast at the Blue Diamond, a hotel for Western tourists that features Mexican food, Metallica on the stereo (the new shitty Metallica), and some old dude banging on the drums randomly. While the tacos I had last night were kind of crappy (poor quality beef, not enough cheese, needless over-spicing), the breakfast service was pretty good. Fresh orange juice, eggs, sausage, beans, toast, and what was probably the best cereal I’ve ever had – oats and nuts topped with mixed fruits and unsweetened yogurt, kind of a tropical proto-cereal – yum!

Unlike Thailand, almost every one of the locals seems to speak passable English, though their manners could use some work. People barely look at you when serving, except for some of the Indians. To my surprise the most prominently-sold newspaper was the English-language, tabloid format Straits Times, but it wasn’t all that useful to me as it focuses almost exclusively on domestic affairs – the international section consisted of two articles from the New York Times and 3 pages of AP clippings.

I’m here to renew a tourist visa as I continue my job hunt – what should have been a one or two night trip turned into a 4 night excursion since I made the blunder of booking a flight on a major holiday when the consular offices are closed. Before coming I was worried about the validity of my passport since the week before I accidentally put it through the laundry. But those fears seem to have been unfounded since, well, here I am.

That passport is now in the hands of a man named Mohammed at NJ Book Centre, leaving me in a state of limbo until I get my renewed visa and can head home on Friday. Until then, I plan to read Bob Woodward’s State of Denial, visit some of the historical sites, and take a lot of pictures. Stay tuned!

My Mexican Experience in Thailand – ¡muy malo!

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As part of the week-long birthday festivities for Mrs. Adamu, on Friday we had the chance to visit Charley Brown’s Tex-Mex Cantina, one of the few places in Thailand that can claim to serve anything close to Mexican food. I ignored Cosmic Buddha’s reservations about the place and decided to go anyway. Some thoughts:

  • I’ll start with something positive: in terms of food, there was nothing Thai about it at all, so my taste buds could forget they were in Southeast Asia for an hour or so. But here’s the bottom line: I’ve had El Paso instant taco mixes in the US that were about on par with this. Seriously, it barely registered as restaurant-level Mexican food. I give the place credit for at least giving it the old college try, but I’d wonder whose white grandmother was making the stuff if I had it back home. No discernible flavor to the meat, and the end product felt very mashed together. My chicken burrito was smothered in cheese on the outside that made it soggy (unexpected bonus – the refried beans tasted just like the beans they serve at Popeye’s chicken!). On top of that, it ended up being one of the most expensive restaurants I’ve ever visited in Bangkok – the bill came to 800 baht (approx US$20) for two dishes offering middling portions and 3 Heinekens. Here’s what it the burrito looked like:

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  • The manager of the establishment, a young British-sounding man named Chris, made a go at being friendly and asked how our meal was. This practice of returning to a table after the meal is served and asking how things are going is standard for the US but is something I had never seen until I came here. Still, it was a little off-putting when he decided to put off bringing us our bill to down a shot with some other ex-pats, who made themselves enough of a part of our dining experience that they earn their own bullet point below:
  • Our experience was badly marred by its intended customer base: Western tourists and sexpats. Mrs. Adamu and I could barely carry on a conversation over a boisterous group of Aussies, and people filtered in and out from a nearby outdoor whites-only drinking establishment. Worse than that, however, had to be the pasty white men and their Thai hooker escorts sitting at the 3 tables around us. Nothing ruins a meal faster than seeing some 50-something ‘Nam vet pawing at his new plaything between bites of enchilada. Oh, and their fat bodies bounced around enough to rattle Mrs. Adamu’s seat since the booth chairs were connected. We kind of knew what to expect after we tried to eat there unsuccessfully on Monday (it’s closed on Mondays, a fact that didn’t make itself known on the online site we checked), since to get there one must wade through myriad cheap crap stores, decrepit beggars, and numerous prostitution venues. The area outside the Nana skytrain station is notorious as a red light district, so in that sense it’s our fault for going in the first place.

    • Recommendation: unless you have no problem with sex tourism and are sure that you’ll never ever visit a part of the world with good Mexican food again, stay away from Charley Brown’s.