Yongfook is a web producer and usability consultant based in Tokyo

If you say “Cult JET icons” to any member of the current or past JET community, you might get a response along the lines of one of the following:

The Genki English guys Love them, hate them or want to throw buckets of molten lava at their faces, the Genki English duo have become something of a cult icon. These are the guys who have turned “genki” from a word loosely meaning “spirited” into a word meaning something like “never ever stop screaming at the top of my fricking voice and grinning like I have eaten 7 tonnes of premium CRACK because this is the easiest tactic to hold people’s attention when you don’t have anything engaging for them to listen to”.

I wouldn’t have so much of a grudge against these guys if it weren’t for the fact they were the bloody KEYNOTE SPEAKERS at the JET re-contracting conference last year. As keynote speakers go, they were horrifically bad. I can think of about one billion other things that would have been wildly more relevant than watching those 2 grown men prance around on stage for an hour, for example; placing a live dolphin for us all to watch in silence as it rolled about helplessly and slowly died through lack of moisture, or having Michael Winslow come on stage to do a speech on entomology in his badly-dubbed kung fu movie voice.

If I had to title their presentation, it would be something along the lines of “Our Year of Arsing the Frick About” or “Japan: We Can Never, Ever Leave!” in which they simply detailed an entire year of their post-JET escapades where they lived out of a van and just drove up and down Japan begging schools to let them do a lesson. The Keynote Speech. Well thanks for the marvellous aspirations, JET programme, but McDonalds already has my application.

I think that whole presentation actually made me care less about human beings in general. Couple this with the fact that the entire thing was presented at a volume and tone at which a supercomputer dedicated entirely to the creation of really fricking loud sounds would be mechanically unable to emulate - in front of an auditorium of JET-jaded 20 somethings and well, they basically left a pretty bad impression on most people.

That dude in Fukuoka who got paid for doing naff all Legend has it that there was once a JET in Fukuoka prefecture somewhere, whose contracting organisation had so little clue of what to do with him that they simply instructed him to do whatever the hell he wanted all day, as long as that didn’t involve going anywhere near his school or teaching any English. For this he continued to receive his paycheck and subsidised housing, and simply took very long holidays for most of the year.

The Poor Bastard On Ishigaki To those of you who are still waiting to find out where your placement is going to be, lets take a moment to accept the reality that the majority of JETs get fairly rural placements, ranging from jungle villages at the top of a volcano, god-forsaken industrial slums populated by grey-skinned children with FINS and an almost bearable medium somewhere between those two extremes. However, most of us have it ok. I mean, no matter where you are, you really shouldn’t be any more than 1 or 2 hours away from a proper city - and, if you are really lucky, a ‘major’ city (Osaka, Kyoto, Tokyo, Fukuoka etc). However, there are some JETs who got completely shafted with location placements and one of those people is the Poor Bastard On Ishigaki. Ishigaki is a tiny island that counts as part of Okinawa, but is far faaaar away from the bulk of Okinawa, and sits surrounded by hundreds of miles of open water in the middle of the Japan Sea, somewhere near TAIWAN. Crippling transport costs to go anywhere interesting and horrible, gibbering isolation aside, I’m sure it’s a nice place to live- but I’m glad its not me.

And the last JET cult icon for now is-

Mon Frere Ok this is what I actually meant to write about in this entry. Mon Frere has fast become something of a cult icon to an already-fairly-small cult demographic of the JET community. It is basically a sinfully cheap, 300-yen bottle of wine that comes with a classy screw-top cap and is made by Mann’s Wines, a subsidiary of Kikkoman, the same people who make Soy Sauce. Alarm Bells. If I had to define Mon Frere it would be along the lines of the following:

“A unique, economical wine-like drink that is quite probably made with some real wine”

Although, that really doesn’t do it much justice. I’m not much of a wine drinker - which is probably a good thing when drinking Mon Frere - but something about this beverage really struck a chord with me. It is really hard to explain just what makes the Mon Frere experience so distinctive, so I will let my peers do the talking for me. Here are some quotes from a JET discussion board, on the subject of Mon Frere’s awesomeness:

“with Mon frere . . . everyone is my brother!”

“It’s more like water than paintstripper. It’s like the “instant ice-tea” of wines.”

“how did I find Mon Frere? Well I like to think of myself as the little goat herder who found the dead sea scrolls”

“I only drink Mon Frere when I’m happy, and when I’m sad. Sometimes I drink it when I’m alone. When I have company I consider it obligatory. I trifle with it if I am not hungry, and drink it when I am. Otherwise I never touch it — unless I’m thirsty”

“Drinking alone? With Mon Frere? Why man, its a contradiction in terms!”

“I tried this wine for the first time a few nights ago. (Rose and Red). I will never drink it again. It was like drinking pure chemical waste.”

“You know how some people can taste MSG and some people can’t, while some people can taste synthetic sweeteners and some can’t?? I wonder if it’s the same for Mon Frere. I frikking hate sweeteners so I can’t swallow the smallest amount of diet coke without wanting to puke, but some people can drink it and not tell the difference between diet and the real thing. I cant taste MSG though, which is why I find Chinese food really bland.. anyway, I digress. The point is, I fricking love Mon Frere”

And finally, I give you the immortal words of Lupin, to summarise the Mon Frere experience. If Mon Frere was the AUM terrorist / religious cult, Lupin would be the supreme leader Shoko Asaharu, aka Peter Jackson, director of the Lord of the Rings movies. Lupin is the man responsible for introducing the delight of Mon Frere to the JET masses, by way of his immovable enthusiasm for the beverage on a popular JET online discussion forum. For the purposes of extending the Mon Frere Empire, Lupin, in a rare moment of not-drinking-Mon-Frere, granted me audience for 2 questions:

What is mon frere, in one sentence?

“The bottled phenomenon that is Mon Frere can not and will not be summed up in one sentence. Mann’s Wines, an honourable, noble company with Samurai family roots have deemed us, the consumer, worthy enough of the nectar of the Gods they call Mon Frere. For a very reasonable price of around 300 yen you buy yourself a screwtopped, 750ml dose of heaven. Not only that you can choose from Red, Redder, Rose and White varieties too! Mon Frere is a piece of liquid genius in a bottle, right down to the screwtop that never quite comes off completely.”

Why is mon frere so important to you?

“Mon Frere has kept me company most nights over the last few years, through the good and the bad, the trials and the tribulations. Mon Frere has been my rock, “my brother” if you pardon the pun. As a man of limited funds Mon Frere in it’s 750ml, original 298 yen a bottle form was a true godsend. A drink one could enjoy straight after payday and a drink one could enjoy right at the end of the month. A drink for all seasons and all men. Over the last few months the quite poetic suitability of the name has certainly struck home. Mon Frere, my brother, a brother to all men of all colours, creeds and religions (except those which have ridiculous views on drinking alcohol). If Jesus had been choosing the wine for the last supper then I am sure if Mann’s Wines had been about then, the big J fella would have chosen Mon Frere Red (yayakarakuchi version, closer to blood than the amakuchi!). Mon Frere has always been there for men, and will continue to be there for anyone with a spare 300 yen or so in their pocket and a desire for their own little dose of paradise!”

This entry was posted on Sunday, May 2nd, 2004 at 8:26 pm and is filed under General. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.