Nagasaki Lantern Festival

A thousand red lanterns glowing like a thousand red suns hung in orderly rows above the throng of people who were flowing through China town in downtown Nagasaki. My elbows, knees, shoulders, and back touched a new person with every step as Ted, Yumiko, and I moved down the street. The three of us had driven from snow-dusted Oita-ken to Nagasaki early that morning to take part in the celebration of the Nagasaki Lantern Festival.

As always, a trip out of the inaka is a refreshing and exciting experience and I was happy to be surrounded by buildings and people. Of course being surrounded by hundreds of thousands of people who put me in the constant state of “jostled” was a little unnerving. Thankfully Japanese people are well behaved in crowds and all the pressing and pushing was polite and mild mannered (except for that one kids who repeatedly hit me in the butt with his stuffed dragon).

Here are some photos to give you an idea of what my weekend in Nagasaki was like.


Nagasaki Port, historical gateway for foreign trade and contact


Yumiko and Ted, my traveling companions. Yumiko was the brains, Ted was the muscle, and I was the one who kept saying "Cool, look at that!"


Parade! Absolutely none of the marchers were smiling during this parade (no idea why everyone was so somber). But the crowd sure did love taking pictures!


Modernity and tradition standing side by side—typical dichotomy in present day Japan.


Roasted pig heads! I have no idea…not even Yumiko knew what this was all about.


Lanterns by night.


Lantern Dragons.


Lantern Dragons 2.

Dryer Sheets and the Big Announcement

Smell is said to be the sense that’s most closely linked to memory and I always affirm this statement when I run across a random scent and have a strong memory come to mind. Whenever I smell heavy traffic fumes, I remember Indonesia and the crowded, dirty air. When I smell freshly cut grass, I remember Mr. Mitchell’s yard and all the summer days I spent there with the lawn mower. And when I smell fresh laundry that’s tumbled in the dryer with Bounce, I remember home.

All the years I lived at home, my mom did my laundry and the years I was at college and returned home to visit, my mom would do my laundry. The fresh smell of clothes dried with Bounce dryer sheets is a smell that I associate with comfort and home and I didn’t realize this until a few months ago when I received a box from home. The box contained my winter clothes and the instant I cut through the heavy tape and tore open the cardboard, I had a rush of that clean smell that threw me back into my memories. Holding up a shirt to my face and inhaling the Bounce fragrance took me back to my house in Raleigh with my little dog running around and my mom close by drinking her afternoon coffee. A tear or two filled me eyes and I was surprised at home much the scent meant to me. Clothes dryers aren’t common in Japan, so I never use dryer sheets, and thus I never experience the Bounce smell. All the clothes I’ve brought with me have lost their Bounce freshness through wear and wash and only the new box of clothes carried the signature of mom’s love.

Since then, my sister has sent me a box of Bounce for me to use in a variety of ways (you’d be amazed at home many uses dryer sheets have). Mostly, I just tuck them in between my clothes so they smell nice when I put them on. Fresh clothes and a memory of home…

This brings me to my next topic and BIG ANNOUNCEMENT. While I love home and all the smells that are associated with the people and places there, I’ve decided to stay on in Japan for a second year. My original contract runs from July 2005 to July 2006, but now I’m re-contracting to stay until July 2007. This decision was reached after months of thought, prayer, and discussion. Basically, I’ve begun to build a life here and am enjoying my time in Japan. I have a job and a home and lots of interesting things to experience. I feel like the most sensible thing to do is stay…to continue to explore, grow, and learn.

So now everyone back home has more time to plan trips to come visit me! Kaiten sushi and onsens are only an ocean away!

Six Months of Food

To celebrate my six month mark here in Japan, I’m posting various pictures of the kinds of food I’ve been eating. For folks in Japan, enjoy these familiar images…and everyone back home, be amazed!


Sushi, my first meal and first picture in Japan (Tokyo, July 2005)


Yakitori, chicken on a stick, festival food (Ajimu, August 2005)


Japanese curry, one of Stephron's favorites (Usa, September 2005)


Anpan, sweet bean paste inside bread, my obsession in September and October (Hiroshima, September 2005)


Pretty average breakfast at a youth hostel (Osaka, December 2005)


Japanese dinner complete with raw fish and beer (Ferry ride from Beppu to Osaka, December 2005)


Okonomiyaki, meat and veggies mixed with batter to create a pancake-like thing. I made it myself (Usa, January 2006)


Takoyaki, fried octopus with mayonnaise, festival food (Ajimu, November 2005)


Shojin Ryoori, Buddhist monk food at Koyasan, vegetarian (Koyasan, December 2005)


The meal I made at my cooking class, difficult experience, the instructor kept saying "dame" to me (that means "don't") (Nakatsu, November 2005)


Dessert, made with green tea and bean paste (Usa, January 2006)


Japanese food is wonderful and one of my favorite parts about living here...that and all the ninjas I get to fight on the way to school.

Sumo and Billiards

I’ve come to realize that if I want something to write about here in Japan, all I have to do is walk out my front door and turn left. Going straight runs me into a wall and if I turn right I’ll just walk into the back of my apartment building where a dilapidated bike sits among torn spider webs and withering weeds (more of summer place for writing inspiration).

The other night, Tuesday, I went out with some friends to play “biriyaado”. My friend, a 30-something guy with fatigue constantly battling his eyes and a light smell of cigarette smoke on his suit, asked me to play and while at first I didn’t know what “biriyaado” was, I soon learned through a round of “mime the word” that he meant billiards.

A half week later I found myself in a large van with three other Nihonjin, two of them being former sumo wrestlers. These men are massive and fortunately have friendly personalities to match their girth. Big smiles, big bellies, and lots of questions about my dating life greeted me when I arrived to meet them. They asked me if I like “playing women” and then told me that one of them “played his girlfriend three time” when she visited last. I smiled and laughed a little and then got into the van and off we went.

The billiards hall, located somewhere along a dark, rice field-lined road, had five pool tables and was dominated by a rough, thrown-together 1950’s American theme. Elvis was singing through the mounted speakers while posters of the King adorned the wood-paneled walls. Marilyn Monroe’s generous smile sat over the slot machines and James Dean took up position near the electronic dart board. Various paintings of vintage cars hung beside the front counter and an old metal relic with “Coca-Cola” across the front led the way to the bathroom. The place was perfect and I actually enjoyed listening to Elvis while I played my way to fourth place in our pool tournament.

Afterwards, the six of us went to Joyfull, the “western” style family restaurant, to eat dinner…at 10:30 at night. When I told them I usually go to bed at 10:30, they gasped and apologized for keeping me out so late. I shrugged and assured them that hanging with them was more important than sleep. When the waitress arrived, I caused them to gasp again when I confidently ordered my food in Japanese. Then, when the food came, I caused one guy to nearly pass out when I successfully took a bite of karage with a pair of chopsticks! They were amazed!

The night ended afterwards and my friends said we should “play” bowling next time. I agreed and felt good that I had been welcomed by this group of moderately young, unmarried Japanese men. They’re all eager to hang out and speak with me—even when the communication is pretty rough with a mix of bad English and bad Japanese.

New Year’s as told in several pictures and self-portraits

The night begins, 8:03PM


Dinner with friends, 8:44PM


Final fiery moments of 2005, 11:57PM


First corndog of 2006, 1:02AM


The man who provided the first corndog of 2006, 1:03AM


Wait, that's no moon, 1:30AM


Post Shrine celebration, 3:17AM


First waaay too early morning of 2006, something-early-o'clock am


Don't worry, my hair doesn't look like this all the time.

Christmas Journey, there and back again (part three)

“The next half hour may be really easy or it may be a horrible nightmare,” were the words Steph used to describe our search for a hotel. Osaka looked awesome outside the train station with long, bright arcades filled with crowds walking the streets. Osaka has been described as having a “Blade Runner”-like setting with its neon and gritty urban feel. Young people with spiky hair and tall boots strutted by with an air of cool toughness that makes two white guys wearing backpacks and frantically searching a “Lonely Planet” guide book feel a bit vulnerable. Steph and I were two big targets and if Japan wasn’t such a bizarrely safe place, we may have found ourselves in a bit of danger.

At one point we found ourselves in the lobby of the Swiss Hotel…a large, upscale place with a piano lounge and lots of foreigners in gray sweaters. We knew the hotel was out of our price range, but desperation leads men to walk down all sorts of avenues in an attempt to find a solution. The Japanese attendants behind the hotel desk were very polite and smiled when showing us the ridiculous room prices. Steph and I smiled at one another (though it was a different kind of smile) and walked back out into the crowded neon streets.

Up one street, down another, back again…nothing. Try the phone…call this place, that place, another place…all too expensive. Feel desperate. Give the “Lonely Planet”, that double-edged guide book, one more try. Youth Hostel! On the other side of town…back to the trains.

Finally, after about an hour of walking, talking, calling, and eating (had to stop and get some snacks) we found our way to a youth hostel housed on the third floor of the Osaka football/soccer stadium (weird). The establishment was newish and comfortable...and the seven phone calls to the proprietor to get broken directions there made for jokes later.

The next morning was a time of farewells and a parting of ways. Steph planned to continue his journeys eastward while I wanted to see more of Osaka before heading back home. I was going to navigate Osaka—the big gruff city of Japan—alone. Perfect.






First stop, Osaka Castle…a place I had been reading about since I arrived in July. Getting there by myself on the trains was empowering and some snow fell in a celebratory fashion when I reached the base of the castle. An old Canadian lady took my picture.



Next stop, the famed Osaka Aquarium…on the other side of town. My reason for going was not just because I love aquariums, but because on this day, December 26th, my sister’s birthday, my family over in Atlanta, GA was heading to the new Atlanta Aquarium and for the first time in my life I wasn’t going to be celebrating with them. Going to the Osaka Aquarium was a way for me to be with my family in the sense that we would both be doing the same kind of special thing on this special day. I walked through the plastic-walled compound staring at blue tanks filled with fins and gills and thought about my family. Everyone around me was a trendy Japanese couple with high collared coats covering bright striped shirts. They giggled and gasped at the creatures and often took pictures of one another in front of the tanks. I enjoyed the aquarium well enough, but really just ached to be with my family…even in spite of the fact that about the last 15 Julie birthdays have been monumental days of stress and chaos (day after Christmas, Julie shares her birthday with my grandma, holiday stress reaches an all time high....).






A little later I found myself walking along the water front area watching the sun set westward in the direction of home. I told the sun to say hi to my home for me when it rose there a few hours later. I had survived Christmas in Japan and had an impressive itinerary to show for it. Kyoto, Koyasan, and Osaka all in three days…I never went hungry, I always had a place to stay, and I had seen some of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen in my life. Life felt good.

Christmas Journey, there and back again (part two)

The city turned into urban sprawl that slowly dwindled to little towns that eventually drifted to singular buildings and then only trees, mountains, and snow could be seen out the train window. Christmas Eve and Steph and I were making our way to Mt. Koya where we would spend the night at a Buddhist temple. The falling snow outside and the excitement of seeing Kyoto had pulled me out of the lingering shadow of homesickness that had been following me earlier. Our train went as far as the base of the mountain and then we transferred to a cable car in order to reach the top of Koyasan. The view up the tracks:



Snow fell and fell and everything was thick and white. I’d never seen so much snow—especially not on Christmas Eve! Behold the scene:





Steph and I checked into the Daienin Temple and were served a vegetarian-friendly dinner and provided with a warmish room for the night. The monks were shy, but friendly and watched us with bright eyes that shone out from circular glasses below shaved heads. In the spirit of Japan, Steph and I donned the traditional yukata after having a communal bath with the monks (typical Japanese style). Our Christmas Eve ended early since the following morning we were required to get up before 6AM for morning prayers.




Christmas morning came in the dark quiet of the early morning and we headed to the main hall where several monks performed the morning prayers with sweet incense burning. The hall was covered in color and gold with images of Buddha looking out through small cabinet doors. I had never been in such a room before.

The sun rose, the prayers ended, Steph and I ate monk breakfast…tofu and rice among the dishes with no doughnuts or breakfast casserole to mark the day as Christmas like I was use to back home.

For most of the rest of the day, Steph and I explored the surrounding areas where numerous wooden temples stood layered in snow. The highlight of the Koyasan sites was the extensive cemetery that goes along through an old forest where one can become disconnected from time due to the peaceful surroundings. Hundreds or maybe thousands of snow-capped stone haka—graves—fill the cemetery. As the morning light streaked down through the trees, snow melted and fell from the burdened braches in dustings that resembled mini flurries.






Koyasan was made even more special by the arrival of Betsy and Timur—a Christmas miracle! While Betsy and I have planned several meetings before, this chance encounter on Christmas came completely from the miracle bag of Fate.



Evening came, Betsy and Timur returned to their temple, and Steph and I headed down the mountain to ride the train back to Osaka. The only problem was that he and I had no where to stay once we arrived in the bustling metropolis. Osaka, the commercial hub of Japan, would soon greet us with neon lights, quick moving crowds, and several NO VACANCIES…

Christmas Journey, there and back again (part one)

All of my journeys here in Japan start the same way: open front door, walk out. And all of my journeys here in Japan end the same way: unlock front door, collapse inside. My three day Christmas journey was no different, however, what occurred in between those two points was remarkably different.

To begin with, it’s Christmas and my head has been spinning with memories of the past 22 Christmases spent in Atlanta with my family. Christmas has been the one absolute holiday that I’ve always known where I would be and what I would be doing. In years past I would just get in the car and head to Atlanta and then spend the next several days eating and talking and eating and celebrating (and then eating dessert) with family. But now, I’m in Japan and I have to make my own Christmas instead of just going along with my family. I asked God to give me a good holiday since I was afraid to be away from the people, places, smells and tastes that usually accompany me during this season. God delivered in a three part blessing.

First, a twelve-hour, overnight ferry ride from Beppu to Osaka. Traveling companion: Stephron Baker Holmes, second year JET from London. We boarded the passenger liner at 7PM and were due to dock at Osaka the next morning at 6:20AM. The ferry is a must have cultural experience here in Japan since it crowds together all sorts of people for a long passage across the inland sea. Steph and I had booked the economy, third class accommodations that provided us with a narrow sleeping mat on the floor, a blanket and “pillow”, and a cubby hole for our things. The sleeping room has narrow spaces for 40 individuals lined up in four lines of ten. Upon first looking into the room, one might think the room was meant for slave transport in the eighteenth century, but then one sees the lovely elderly couples eating gohan in chatty groups of four while little babies babble Japanese babbles and teenagers listen to rock on tiny headphones. The communal, unpretentious environment allows one to see that sleeping 2cm from strangers really isn’t bad at all.

Steph and I “slept” through the night and were awoken in the “morning” (5am) to an older gentleman coughing and spitting phlegm. Stretch, yawn, let’s disembark! We left the ship and headed for the train they would take us to Kyoto. YES, KYOTO…my Japanese Mecca! While our true Christmas destination was Koyasan, we had time to explore the nearby legendary cultural capital (we did dock at 6:20AM).


Kyoto Station, the massive complex from the future, greeted us with festive decorations and crowds of people traveling about in the falling snow.


Kinkaku-ji, the Golden Pavilion, one of the highlights of Kyoto if not all of Japan, sits shining in the white layers of winter. I squealed and ran around taking lots of photos and kept whispering to myself, “I can’t believe I’m here on Christmas Eve.”



The day stretched on into afternoon and Steph and I had more traveling to do before the evening came. We went back to the station and caught a train to Koyasan, the Esoteric Buddhist Monastery where we would spend a most pleasant Christmas.

Icy Realization

As my car spun around in an out of control whirl along that mountain road, the moments seemed to pass slowly and I felt like I had time to think about a great many things. For one thing, I was wondering which part of my car would eventually hit the guard rail to stop the spinning and when it hit, how much damage it would do. Then I thought about how much it would cost to repair the damage and how I would be able to communicate with the auto mechanic in my limited Japanese. Then I thought about Christmas and how instead of being at home with my family I’m driving around dark mountain roads in rural Japan. Finally I thought about the last five months in blur of emotion that is as close as I’ve ever come to seeing my life flash before my eyes.

One, two, three times my car spun…the guard rail getting ever closer. I thought I might be slowing down and with each spin I waited for the impact. BAM! I hit. Where? The back…left side. My head hurt—I had hit it against the window. My heart was beating fast; I was breathing hard…when did my heart start racing? I was okay…move, slowly, get away from the icy. Slowly…don’t mess up again.

I drove down the road a little ways to where the icy mess met the dry pavement like a perverse sea frozen on the beach. My mind started retracing the incident. I was driving home from Stephron’s house at night and foolishly decided to take the mountain road because it was quicker. While the night before had brought snow to the area, the daytime sun had melted and dried most of the roads…I hoped it would be safe. I drove fast wanting to get home…I spend so much time driving here! Up the road I went…up and up…no ice…it’s okay. And then suddenly, as if the ice were rushing towards me as I rush up the mountain, I hit the dangerous white and black mess. Slow down…easy…easy. Slipping, oh no, I’m slipping, easy…oh no, I’m spinning. A terrible screeching noise sounded from my tires…it sounded more like a wraith screaming than rubber sliding and time slowed down while I just waited to hit.

Now I’m at home, safe, and my car isn’t mangled too much. The back left taillight is broken and there’s a dint just above it, but no other damage beyond that. The accident was minor when it could have been so much worse. As I sit here writing, I look back on those moments of chaos and believe that as my car spun, the loving hand of God was on me and protecting me. All those prayers from my family and friends serve to remind me of God’s presence with me here in Japan.

My journey has been long, but there is much left to do and learn. I realized as I spun on that mountain road that I’ve not been myself here in Japan. Every since I left home and left behind all the familiar people and places, I’ve felt a little paralyzed and unable to be the Justin Shaddix I use to know. I’ve been trying to tell myself, “it’s all okay…it’s all okay” whenever life’s been rough because I’ve been afraid of admitting that it’s not okay. There’s a difference between facing and coping with a difficult situation and facing and lying to yourself that’s the situation is okay. Honestly, I don’t know what’s going on in my head right now, but I know I’ve got to be honest in order to find happiness here. My trip northwards to the Esoteric Buddhist Monastery for Christmas may prove to be an insightful journey.

So now I must go and see what Fate has for me...and through it all, believe in the love of God, and the love of my friends and family.

Merry Christmas everyone.

Christmas Bear’s Frightening Ride

I brought Christmas Bear to school after receiving him in the mail the day before in a package from mom and dad (thanks mom and dad!). After spending a week or so in a dark box, Christmas Bear needed some love and attention to help soothe the emotional trauma of being shipped in the mail (he wasn’t eating and would only respond to my questions with one word answers). I also figured the students at school would like to meet him since they love anything cute that wears little hats. I was glad he had brought his hat and scarf since temperatures inside buildings are about the same as the temperatures outside.

Christmas Bear had a special place on my desk atop a pile of memos and flyers that have been accumulating for about the last 5 months (I don’t usually fully grasp the meanings of said memos and flyers, but I keep them in case I ever need to reference them) so he served the dual function of tomodachi and paper weight.




Well, Christmas is almost here and there was snow in Ajimu off and on all last week. There were times of heavy flurries, but not much stuck to the roads so school was always in session (Japanese schools are not are ready to cancel class due to snow fall as NC schools). There is definitely a Christmas presence here in Japan as one can see in the lights decorating some stores and buildings, but the anticipation is nothing like back home. I have a little tree at my apartment and plan to have a Christmas adventure at the end of this week. Check back later for the story!

Friday night snacks

Nine Japanese high school girls swarmed around me shrieking my name and giggling little giggles that bit at my ears. They clamored for my attention, but freaked out and turned away with a gasp when I looked to acknowledge one of them. No, I wasn’t walking down the red carpet; I was just at school helping some first year students practice an English song. An English love song. For half an hour I stood opposite a semicircle of hyper girls listening to verses about eternal love and encouraging the girls to stand still and not play with their/each other’s hair.

Upon leaving school, I was drained…all of my energy carried away by the students. But it was Friday night and I had a bonenkai to get to. QUICK CULTURE LESSON: a “bonenkai” is an end of the year dinner party where colleagues get together and celebrate the previous year before welcoming the next one. On this Friday night, I was going to the bonenkai for the local ALTs (assistant language teachers) where I would also meet up with two of my Japanese friends. The plan was dinner at Kura and then drinks/karaoke at the legendary “R” bar, but it was the events between the two stages that merits this blog entry.

As our group of gaijin, with the two Nihonjin in tow, moved from the restaurant to the bar, I found myself suddenly whisked away down the street to another establishment by my Japanese friends. Apparently on this very same night some of their friends were also having a bonenkai. My friend, as he took my arm and led me towards the neon lights of “downtown” Usa, said “let’s sneak away…just for five minutes to see the other people.”

Five minutes turned into forty minutes and ended up costing me 4,000 yen (about $40).

As we walked away from my familiar, English speaking friends and towards the group of Japanese-3 of them standing like giants in the group on account of them being former sumo wrestlers—I felt a mix of fear and excitement. When they all saw me coming, they shouted my name “Jasten! Geeeeaaasuten!” and gave me handshakes. The smell of alcohol swirled around their dark suits and soon I was part of their throng headed towards a nearby snack bar called “Watashi wa piano” (I am piano).

ANOTHER QUICK CULTURE LESSON: a “snack bar” is an omnipresent kind of drinking establishment where Japanese men go to be served expensive drinks by pretty girls. There are snacks at these places, but they cost a HUGE amount of money and the uninitiated can leave with the burden of a hefty bill. Perhaps you could call me the uninitiated. Or maybe this was just one of those cultural experiences that as a foreigner you just can’t escape and have to roll with the situation. I tried to roll and found myself drinking expensive whiskey and singing the “Beatles” with one of the largest Japanese men I’ve ever encountered (sumo champion in his high school days).

Time moved at a strange pace…random men kept shifting positions so they could sit next to me and try out their English skills (some very impressive) all while a young waitress smiled and giggled at me.

Eventually, my friend with his expertise in “sneaking away” pulled me away from the crowded room and back out onto the cold street. We then headed to “R” bar to rendezvous with the other gaijin.

I feel that the night was a success because I’m writing about it now. While I don’t think I’ll be heading back to a snack bar anytime soon, it was good to go once…especially with Japanese people.

The friend you just can't have

This entry has been removed because the story deeply hurt my Japanese co-workers. I am very sorry for writing this story and was wrong to write it. I have learned my lesson and will not write about my job, students, or co-workers in a negative fashion again.