Stick figure Pilgrims and how I got fat

I stepped back from the chalkboard and was a little surprised at what I saw. A group of sloppy stick figures wearing either huge hats or gaudy feathers on their heads were standing near an amoeba-like map of the U.S. with the date "1620" scrawled close by and the word "Thanksgiving" stretching endlessly above. It was seventh period and I was teaching about Thanksgiving. Back at my desk in the staffroom, all of my bags were packed and ready and waiting for me to bolt out of school as soon as class was over. It was Thanksgiving Day back home in America and I was ready to go and celebrate with some other gaijin.

My destination that day was the inaka town of Bizen up on Honshu in Okayama-ken--the place my dear friend Betsy Herzog calls home. As soon as 4:30 struck, I dashed from school to the train station and took the shinkansen (bullet train) up to see her.

While I was unsure how the Thanksgiving celebration would go since I'm living in Japan, I knew spending time with Betsy and her JET friends would be cool. A group of us foreigners had rented out an "International Villa" (a fabulous house with a large kitchen complete with ovens) for the holiday and all met in the coastal town of Ushimado (which by the way means "cow-window"). Below are views from the villa's surrounding area--a very nice place up on a hill near the sea (in the first picture you can see the villa...curved building on the left).






With the combined efforts of twelve JETs originating from four western courtiers, we managed to put together a Thanksgiving feast worthy of any family gathering back home. Behold!





I didn't even include the dessert table because I don't think Blogger could handle it. After this meal I could happily proclaim the simple phrase that I utter so rarely here in Japan, "I'm full!" Over the last few months, I've been slowly losing weight and appearing more and more wraith-like since my diet here in Japan doesn't consist of all the processed fats found in American cuisine. While looking more like a super model is great for summer months, the cold winter of Japan is better survived by having some organic insulation (fat) to keep one's body heat close to vital organs. So on this celebratory day, I ate and ate and ate and then ate some more. Perfect.

As I sit here now writing this post, I still feel full. In part because I had chocolate cake and pumpkin pie for breakfast and then ate cookies and doughnuts on the train ride home. But hey, this weekend was my holiday. I can eat healthy tomorrow at school when I order a bento full of fish and rice.

Autumn Images of Oita

The big city and Japanese friends

Rain fell in stubborn spurts that couldn’t quite develop into a steady shower, but refused to entirely stop either. The puddles outside “Iwanaga”, the Italian restaurant in downtown Fukuoka where we were dining, were filled with the neon lights from the surrounding stores and eateries. I sat across from my Japanese friend, eating one of the most glorious meals I’d had since arriving in Japan. The two of us had driven across the northern lands of Kyushu from lovely Oita-ken to the big city of Fukuoka—the supreme metropolis of Kyushu.

I first met my Japanese friend during those initial chaotic weeks in Ajimu when Japan was overwhelming and I didn’t know what on earth I was doing here. He wears the most stylish clothes of any Japanese person I’ve encountered and he takes annual trips to Italy to vacation and shop (for clothes and food). Every Tuesday we go to lunch together at a different restaurant in the area and he always encourages me to try out all the different foods in Japan.

My Japanese friend is one of the key people here in Japan who redeems all the moments of frustration, confusion, and loneliness that swirl around me at times. He always makes an effort to talk to me and assist me in any way he can and our relationship has developed to a nice friendship. He shares stories with me about his past when his parents had him declared dead after he disappeared from home for seven years to go to Tokyo for university. He sometimes tells me, “I’m Japanese, but I’m not Japanese” to convey that while he was born in Japan and lives in Japanese society, his perspective on how to live life often deviates from the norm (making him a suitable Japanese liaison for a foreigner like me).

My Japanese friend is a unique individual in a land were individuality is often times lost in a mantra of conformity. Our trip to Fukuoka is a perfect example of how cool he is because he was willing to drive me all the way there on expensive toll roads and then drive all over the city showing me around (perfect host and guide) He also treated me to a nice Italian dinner as a way to give me something familiar from home (and indulge his own tastes for western food).

Since our Fukuoka trip, I’ve hung with him some more and actually seen him naked.

Okay mom and Jessica Barbour, don’t freak out. Today the two of us went with a group of Japanese people to climb some mountains called “Twin Peaks” in northern Oita. The hike was more strenuous than I thought it would be, but fortunately the guide handed out bags of candy to sustain us during the trek.






After the morning/afternoon of climbing (with a beef stew lunch served at the top courtesy of Ishida) we all headed to a nearby onsen to relax our tired muscles.

An onsen (“hot spring” in English) is a common Japanese luxury where people go to enjoy the rejuvenating powers of hot water. Basically you go, pay around 300 yen, strip naked, shower off, and soak in really hot water. Of course this made me a bit nervous at first because I’m not accustomed to being naked in large groups (except for IV retreats…Order of the Dark Triangle forever!). But with cold mountain air and sore legs driving my forward, I gladly followed the customs of the onsen.

There was a brilliant moment when four of us were sitting together in a pool and I was doing my best to be interested in my hands or the ceiling so as not to focus too much on one person when my friend politely said, “I think foreigners can sometimes be uncomfortable bathing together in public. Is this true?” And before I could answer I noticed two old Japanese men from across the pool gawking at me (just like at the grocery store) and I turned to my friend and simply said “It’s a little different in American…but I love onsen.”

Rock on Japan!

Betsy and Chris come to visit

I almost died twice the other day. Once was in Hell with Chris Clearfield as we squatted beside two Oni who were guarding a cold pool of water and the other time was on the Oita Expressway along a stretch of road that looked like Hell because of dense fog and strangely colored lights lining the road. But I’m getting ahead of myself…let me start at the beginning.

Betsy Herzog, my dear friend who graduated from UNC and now lives as a first year JET in Okayama-ken, came down from concrete Honshu to rustic Kyushu with her friend Chris Clearfield who is traveling the world between degrees. Chris plans to go from Melbourne, Australia to Berlin, Germany in 300 days with Japan, Korea, China, and all those other countries between Asia and Europe as stops along the way. Japan is his second country and hosting him gave me a new perspective on my life here in Japan. Most of the time, I think of myself as an epic figure on a journey with all the people I meet and experiences I have as parts of my unfolding story. Having Chris intersect my story with his own journey changed this perspective, however, to be one where Chris is the epic traveler and I am the experience. From his point of view, I am a “stop” along his long excursion and thus I am part of Japan, part of his experience here. To relate this to classics, I felt that while I interacted with Chris, I changed from being Odysseus to being one of the characters Odysseus meets along his way home (but not Calypso or Polyphemus cause they have issues).

Anyway, as any good side character in an epic would do, I did my best to make Chris’ and Betsy’s time here memorable. Highlights included Ajimu’s famous “Hell and Heaven” site where visitors can journey through caves filled with ancient statues (Hell) and eventually make it up a lofty hill to a serene Buddha (Heaven). This is where Death first waved at us. While photographing a part of Hell, Chris and I were almost killed by the dreaded mukade—poisonous demon-wyrms that thirst for human blood! (truthfully, a mukade is a large poisonous centipede found in the inaka and being scared of them is okay). At first there was only one mukade slithering by on the low ceiling, but then I turned my head and saw four others clustered together about 2 inches from my face. I screamed, Chris screamed, and we both ran out of Hell (the best way to exit the underworld I think).





After recovering from the mukade attack, I took Betsy and Chris to the Ajimu waterfall where any weary or traumatized soul can find relief and rejuvenation. The waterfall lies off the main road a bit and up some hills and through a forest. Along the way, Betsy commented on how the mountainous scenery resembled parts of western North Carolina and together we both sighed a sigh of longing remembrance for our home. Once we reached the actual taki (waterfall) our hearts were lifted by the site of the cascading water and the splendor that is rural Japan.



Later that day, we all traveled down to fabled Usuki, a town on the other side of Oita-ken that was hosting a bamboo festival. The festival took place at night and involved hundreds—or maybe thousands!—of bamboo holders bearing the warm light of candles (like Japanese jack-o-lanterns!). The streets were lined with the bamboo candles and like all good Japanese festivals there was plenty of takoyaki and crepes to eat. The time escaped us amongst the pleasant atmosphere and eventually we head back to Ajimu via the expressway.




But the adventure had not yet come to an end.

On the way home, Betsy, Chris and I ran into Death again and this time he reached out and tried to snag my little car by its little cute bumper. Somewhere along the expressway, as the concrete and asphalt runs through the mountains and forests, we were met by thick, dense, life-taking fog. It was the thickest fog I have ever driven through but thankfully Japanese engineers had installed brightly colored lights along the side of the road to help illuminate the treacherous path. Unfortunately these lights made the nighttime fog look like a scene from “Hell’s Fun House” and threatened to drive us all back in fear. I pressed onward, however, and made it home safely (so calm down, mom) and upon entering the front door I promptly poured us all a glass of whiskey (just for our nerves).

All in all, Chris and Betsy’s visit made for a splendid time and I hope that when Chris writes his novel about his global travels that he will include a mentioning of me and the wonders of Oita-ken, Japan.

Jehovah’s Witnesses

I first met them one Saturday morning as I was stepping out of the shower. The doorbell rang and I dashed to answer it wearing only a pair of shorts and having a damp towel draped over my shoulder. I thought the visitor might be the mailman or a friend since I rarely have callers at my door so I wasn’t really concerned about putting on a shirt at the time. But, when I opened my front door, there were two Japanese ladies standing there with Japanese editions of “The Watchtower” in their hands and looks of shock on their faces.

“Ohayo gozimasu” I managed to say while feeling rather silly without a shirt. They answered in turn and then proceeded to try and figure out who I was, what language I spoke, and what I thought about God. In my beginning level Japanese I managed to give them my basic biography and they told me their names were Miki and Aya and they were Jehovah’s Witnesses (Gasp! How had they found me all the way in the Japanese inaka?!). Then they told me to read my Bible everyday. Miki and Aya left shortly thereafter because they weren’t yet prepared to deal with a gaijin, but, that was not the last time I would see the Jehovah Witnesses.

The next week I saw Miki again at the Ajimu Joyfull Family Restaurant. She was my server and almost had a heart attack when she walked up to my table to take my order. I think this was when Miki felt that God had put me in her life to convert. I could tell as I paid my bill they she had crusade burning behind her eyes.

Twice since this meeting, Miki has come by when I’m not at home to drop off friendly postcards written in broken English and decorated with precise drawings of Biblical scenes. Her messages are nice with bits of scripture and encouraging remarks like, “You feel lonely? Maybe we here for you!” and “Remember me? I am Jehovah’s Witness. Your friends alone in America, have friends now in Ajimu.” At any rate, it’s nice to get some mail.

The other day, the JWs stepped up their tactics when they stopped by with a guy who lives close by in Ajimu (they were hopping to get me to commit to having Bible study with him). They had prepared a pretty good English presentation of the Jehovah’s Witness theology complete with all the thought provoking questions about the end of the world. I didn’t know how to handle them exactly, so I just listened and told them I love God and I’m busy on Sundays so I can’t come to their church. My rejection of their offer didn’t seem to weaken their resolve at all, however.

Since that day, they have come by again and this time I didn’t answer the door. They seem committed to reaching out to me and while this is sort of nice, I wish their invitation for community didn’t involve me needed to convert. I’ve heard stories from other JETs who get “adopted” by Japanese locals, but their tales involve free meals and drinking buddies, not salvation from the fiery end of the world and endless spiritual literature. Geeze.

Halloween in Japan

For all my Chapel Hill peeps, you know that Halloween is one of the most important events for me. Over the past several years, I have spent a great deal of time and energy on my costume creations for the Franklin Street Halloween Adventure and the entire month of October is usually a time of Hallow’s Eve bliss with my anticipation building and building for the magical 31st. Being here in Japan is a bit different from home, and so I was a little concerned about what I would do, and who I would be, for Halloween.



Sometimes it’s best to go with a classic and this year I became my old superhero persona, Green Havoc, the Bulwark of Justice. Since I brought none of my original regalia with me to Japan, I had to create a new costume and thus in the tradition of all great comic book heroes, I took on a familiar, but new, appearance. Fans of GH will recognize the classic crown of knives—a real crowd pleaser—and tall green socks that I wore in days of old (but this time, the knives are real).

My celebration of Halloween took place on Saturday night in the city of Nakatsu after a day of intense deliberation of where to spend the holiday. I joined friends from around the area and despite Halloween having a very minor presence here in Japan, I ended up having a great evening. First stop, purikuri or “print club” at the mall (this is a very Japanese activity to do that involves getting together with your friends and having tiny, fun pictures made that make you look glamorous). A group of us foreigners all donned our costumes and set out to utterly freak out the local Japanese. As if we don’t get enough stares normally, having the added elements of masks, capes, and cat ears made sure every Japanese eye around was staring right at us and asking, “What in Amaterasu’s name?”.

After our mini glamour shots to remind of us of who are real friends are, we headed to dinner. At this point, I was thinking, “Holy cow! Even back home I never went out to dinner in costume!” (except that one time at UNC’s dining hall when I was protesting the Pirate Club). Of course as we entered the establishment we were greeted with whispers and stares and popping around the room was the word “Halloween!” So the Japanese did know about the holiday…and here we were to help internationalize them a little more.

Dinner being done, we set out to our party at Tropi Coco’s, the gaijin bar owned by a Mexican guy named Raoule who speaks Spanish, English, and Japanese and has children by two different Japanese women (his kids help serve food and drinks when the crowd is heavy). Here in this foreigner gathering place, I found a Halloween Mecca of costume enthusiasts all celebrating the holiday. Gaijin and Japanese alike were dressed as all manner of characters and creatures and rocking out to a band with a singer dressed as a Starfleet Captain. I was in heaven.

As if this wasn’t enough, Raoule organized a Halloween parade through the red light district of Nakatsu. All of the costumed people marched through the streets absolutely freaking out/terrorizing the locals and making sure the Japanese still fear us because we’re different. It was awesome (but may have set back the whole integrating into Japanese society thing a little bit). The night ended somewhere around 3:30 AM and I felt that my Halloween had been a fulfilling success.

Now as October gives way to November, and the weather continues its fall into chills and cold, I feel that my Halloween hungry has been sated. My night out in Nakatsu combined with the 2 weeks of Halloween lessons I gave at school (I never want to draw another pumpkin again!) has brought me much comfort. Green Havoc lives on here in Japan and I vow to continue in the traditions set down by the Ehaus Knights and the League of Crusading Champions that inspired me so long ago.

By the way mom, I made sure to check all my candy for shuriken before I ate any.

The Continuing Adventures of Japanese life

Japan cannot be judged by single moments or incidents, but it can be redeemed by them.

Drum and Flute

I followed the sounds of a chirping flute and a booming drum and discovered that the Ajimu shrine—usually a quiet and empty place—was alive with the movements and colors of a local festival. I had noticed the hanging lanterns the night before leading up from the torii as I looked out over the now harvested rice fields. The colors of my town have changed from summer green to autumn gold and the once lush fields are now muddy, prickly places with little tents of drying rice. With the time of the harvest come little local festivals celebrating traditions that span far back in Japanese history. As a young foreigner, these events provide a perfect place to connect more with my community and get a few strange stares from people.

As a walked up the stone stairs to the shrine, I recalled memories of that place from back in August when I first came there looking for “real Japanese cultural” to photograph. Back then, the weather was fiercely hot and the shrine was bear and silent. This time, however, autumn wind blew chills over me and there were dozens of banners and lanterns hanging all along the stairs. Cars were parked along the road below and music floated down from the hill above.

Once inside, I ran into some young people who first saw me from across the way and shortly after were suddenly behind me (totally freaked me out at first). I spoke a little Japanese to them before another guy arrived to offer me takoyaki (fried octopus…yummy).

After that, the performers on stage who had been dancing out a story of a battle between a hero and some oni (demons) threw some mochi at the crowd and sent everyone running and collecting (mochi are rice balls and can really hurt if they hit you in the face). I got a pocket full and was cornered by a very old man who wanted to touch my hand. He kept shaking it and holding it and saying something very meaningful-sounding, but alas I didn’t understand and we both politely bowed and smiled.

Feeling satisfied, I headed back down the stairs and across the fields that lay between my apartment and the shrine. Ajimu is small and quiet, but I love living here. I’ve never experience the small town lifestyle and at first I thought being placed here was a cruel mistake. But now, I feel good about coming home and the remoteness of my new home is something I choose to appreciate.

Three Months in Japan

I made the front page of the school newspaper. The photograph is me chugging a glass of thick, green tea at the school cultural festival with a student standing next to me chugging a glass of cola. The “challenge” was issued to me as soon as I walked by the small stage where all sorts of eating and drinking (non-alcoholic, of course) competitions were taking place. The quality of the picture is rough due to the cheap recycled paper it’s printed one—a type of paper popular in Japanese schools for all kinds of announcements and memos—but one can clearly recognize me with my longer-than-normal hair and slightly stiff posture (I was a bit nervous at the time with so many Nihonjin watching).

I laughed when I saw the picture and felt special for making the collage of images displaying the events of the festival. I’ve been here in Japan for three months now and only this past week have I felt like I was beginning to jive with my co-sensei. The working environment can be intense with teachers rushing around all day working hard and then staying until 7 or 8 or even later. I’m the only one who leaves before 5 and recently I’ve been staying later to help with English speech practices and also to attend some of the various club activities. Like Japanese teachers, Japanese students are at school all the time and remaining on the grounds until dinner time or later is normal. Another JET described the Japanese school as serving more of the role of the family with parents expecting teachers to help raise their children, students often feeling closer bounds with their homeroom teacher than with their parents, and teachers spending more time at work than at home. I think having me stick around later (and my constant attempts to succeed despite constant failure) has helped the other teachers see that I’m not just a slack westerner come to Japan to drink and slack off (ALTs don’t always have the best reputation).

In other exciting new, today was English movie day! What’s the first thing out of the school’s extensive English video library? “Full House”, season one! Yes, with all the countless television series and movies out there in the English world, “Full House” is the one that my school owns and uses when a teacher is absent. Some of you die hard fans of the show may remember that later on in the series, Uncle Jessey made it big in Japan with his band…not sure if this is the reason the school choose this English series or not. Anyway, I felt decently excited about watching the show (even though season one was produced back in 1990 or something) since it is a form of English media (a rarity for me) until I got to the class and learned that there would not only be Japanese subtitles on, but also full Japanese voice-overs enabled. That means no English anywhere! So I got to watch episodes 1 and 2 of “Full House” completely in Japanese. My excitement climaxed when one of the students kept pointing at the screen and saying “Justin?” every time Danny Tanner appeared. Oh geeze, all in a day’s work.

This afternoon we are cleaning up the town. I don’t really understand what’s going to happen…all I know is that everyone is meeting at the junior high school where cleaning assignments will be given out. Everyone has vanished at this point, so I guess I’ll just go with the flow and hope for the best.

Until next time. Abayo!

ONLINE!

Three very helpful and very eager Japanese men just left my apartment. A network of wires and cords are bisecting my living room and I am online for the first time in three months. YES, that's right ladies and gentlemen, I am using UNRESTRICTED HOME INTERNET!

Family, friends, a new era has begun.

My Japanese Double Date

It all started late one Saturday night when I was awoken from sleep by the phone ringing. Oh heavens! What's going on?! Has someone died? Have the Robot Wars come at last?, were the first thoughts to rush through my head. Fortunately, the caller was only Joel Van Loon, the first year Canadian JET who lives out in the inaka with me (for those readers who still don't know what the inaka is, I suggest going back and reading earlier posts). Joel was calling me because he was out with two lovely Japanese girls, Aki and Mina, and said that one of them, Mina, was keen to meet me. "Great, okay…I'd like to meet her too (right?)", was my response and a week later I found myself on my very first Japanese date.

The four of us met in Usa at Aki's brother's restaurant—a quaint little place perfect for cool autumn nights—and enjoyed *kara-age and **biru together (except I had ***kora because I was driving). Through Mina's and Aki's basic English and Joel's extensive Japanese, we managed to talk about hobbies, family members, and music (all the basics for a first date). Turns out that Mina is quite a fan of U.K. bands and likes to call herself a "crazy girl" (I think her word choice on this point is a little off mainly due to her limited vocabulary). The evening was going well with our yakiniku popping and sizzling on the open flame and smiles being exchanged between all…dating in Japan was turning out to be rather fun and relaxing.

As if in response to this pleasant atmosphere, Fate decided to bring a fifth person into our company. After a phone call to Joel, a drunken, red-eyed, post-enkai Danny (another first year JET from California) showed up to amuse us (who doesn't love a fifth wheel?). He was in true form and engaged Mina in a hot debate over who the best U.K. bands are...the only problem was that sometimes they weren't really understanding one another and Mina would say, "Justin, help", to which I would reply, "Danny, be nice."

Long story short, we headed back to Aki's place where her and her brother have about a thousand songs on vinyl and a sweet turn table to play them on (they both have histories of being DJs). The five of us just chilled and Mina tried out some choice phrases from an English phrase book (one of them being "cheese is made from milk"). I enjoyed myself and was glad to meet and socialize with some young Japanese people. Aki and Mina are the first young people I've met here in the inaka and I hope to see them more often (and Danny can come too).


Japanese words defined:
*kara-age = big fried chicken nuggets
**biru = beer
***kora = cola


PS – quick internet update…I still don't have it at home! The internet guy was supposed to come on Wednesday, but the only people who managed to make it out to my apartment were the Jehovah's Witnesses! This crew really deserves their own post, but as a preview for next time, let me tell you two things: dangerous maneuvering and "wakarimasen".

Japan Spotlight: Driving in Japan

So I've been driving around in my sweet little Suzuki (the car that can park anywhere!) for close to two months now and I can tell you that the roads of Japan are a bit different from the roads of my homeland. The first thing one (an American) notices is that the roads are much narrower in Japan. A two lane road here would constitute a wide, one-way street back home, but there is still a dividing line down the center. Second, the roads often curve and wind all around mountains and cliffs and drop down at sudden angles or rise in sudden asphalt ascensions making normal drives seem more like an exciting excursion. Third, and this is just for North Americans, the cars in Japan drive on the LEFT side of the road and this causes a bit of confusion with all one's driving instincts (only when I panic at an intersection do I drive down the wrong way). And finally, fourth, the typical Japanese driver is bit more insane behind the wheel than the average driver I knew back home (but then again, I knew a lot of wet blankets).

Nonetheless, having a car and using it to drive around the countryside and city streets has made me feel a lot more independent here. Before I came to Japan, I wasn't planning on driving at all, but now, driving is one of my favorite activities (you know what I'm saying Dirty Dianna).

The other week (or was it month?) I took a trip to visit my friend, Ben, in his inaka town of Honyabakei. The route there was along a road that went upupup a mountain and then back downdowndown the other side. Along the way I enjoyed freaking out as I drove through dark Japanese forests (searching for elusive tengu!) and swerving to avoid other cars that would suddenly appear from around a narrow curve. There were also amazing/insane drop-offs from the road where, if a car were to fly over the edge, the farmers in their rice fields below would get a really good show. Half the fun of the trip was the drive (especially the return trip at night in the rain).

One of the best things about driving in Japan is being able to do reckless maneuvers without feeling too bad (or too illegal) because most other people drive like lunatics too. Go the wrong way? Do a u-turn anywhere! In a hurry? Pull out in front of those other jokers on the road, they'll slow down! Need to answer your keitai (cell phone)? Just pull over slightly to the side and turn on your blinker—you can practically park there! (no joke, Japanese people think of the road as a driveway sometimes and you will often have to drive around someone who's stopped to, 1. talk on the phone, 2. take a break, 3. gotten out of their car to go have coffee inside their friend's house).

Like everything else in this country, driving has been a learning experience for me. I often go the wrong way and end up making u-turns in the middle of the road and more than once I've just pulled off the road slightly, turned on my blinker, and gone inside a friend's house to have coffee (not really, mom). My car may be small, but she has heart and is a good companion in the inaka. And now that my fellow Ajimu JET, Chris, has lost his license due to speeding (something like 60km over the speed limit) my little Suzuki is a necessity.

PS – sorry Chris…I just wanted to put some gossip in my entry so more people would read.

Giggling in the classroom

Today was a good day.

Hiroshima: an adventure in two parts, 2

The man with the purse sat down beside us and adjusted the strap on his leather boot. It was our second day in Hiroshima and our first stop was breakfast at a trendy coffee shop. Betsy and I relished our anpan (bread with sweet bean paste inside) and took note of the incredibly stylish people around us. The urban Japanese individual doesn't leave the house without his or her designer shoes, tight pants, wild hairstyle that defies heat and moisture, and purse (yes, both men and women make use of purses). I like to think that I have some style, but compared to the young adults of Hiroshima, I'm just another frumpy white guy.

Nonetheless, our plans for the day were to go to Miyajima, the third most beautiful place in Japan. I told Betsy we should go to the first and second most beautiful places in Japan, but she likes to settle (closed-minded racist). Miyajima is an island that has been a declared sacred place and thus those near death or the heavily pregnant are not allowed to stay overnight. The most famous sites to see are a large torii a few meters out in the water (trust me, if you ever seen any guidebook about Japan you've seen this torii), the Itsukushima-jinga (shrine), and a monkey sanctuary. To get to the island from the city, one must take a streetcar (similar to the San Francisco trolley) all the way down to the coast and then board a ferry to cross to the island. Our streetcar ride took FOREVER and along the way I kept asking old women if they would like my seat (one lady graciously took my seat, another refused…but that might be because she was about ten feet away in the car and I had to shout "sumimasen (excuse me), dozo (please take my seat)!"…I was really only asking to practice my Japanese).

Once on the island, Betsy and I found ourselves mixing with about 50,000 other people all there to see the beauty and mystery of Miyajima. There are tame deer near the dock that greet visitors and eat all the return-ferry-ride tickets and clothes they can get (the deer didn't get us, we read the warning signs and avoided the deer food vender). Some of the high heel-wearing Japanese women didn't fare as well and ended up being assailed by the ravenous deer.

Betsy thought it would be awesome to rent bikes to explore more area, but we soon learned that the island is filled with steep hills that make bike riding just an intense leg work out (way to go, Betsy). Still, we did manage to work off our morning anpan before eating oysters and kara-age (delicious fried chicken) for lunch.

After Miyajima we headed back to the city for dinner with another JET (Lisa from Nakatsu and her boyfriend Jeff!) at a ramen restaurant where you order you food via a vending-like machine (delicious, trust me). Then since it was a full moon, we got some mochi (sweet rice balls) and chilled out in the peace park (the tradition in Japan is to eat mochi and relax on the night of the full moon).

Betsy and I left the following day with a vow to plan other such trips. I had such a blast with her because we can commune with one another about having difficult teaching jobs. Unlike Japanese elementary and junior high school students who are precious and cute, our high school students are dirty terrors with no respect. Not all of them, but some of them (really just the boys) are rude and crude and not knowing the language makes teaching a challenge (and the fact that neither one of us knows much about being an educator). Learning that our situations are similar encouraged me to keep trying and pressing forward…life should only get easier. Plus Betsy likes to eat yummy Japanese food as much as me (and thank goodness we weren't together much longer because we both would have been fat and broke).

Well, it's Saturday and I need to wrap up my workday (yes, I'm at school on a Saturday). The good new is that I just got my own computer at home and will soon be posting pictures to go along with all these stories. Until next time, thanks for reading.

Hiroshima: an adventure in two parts, 1

The waitress carefully studied Betsy and I and came to the conclusion that Betsy was more Japanese-friendly than me (a grossly erroneous assessment if you knew what a closed-minded racist Betsy really is). The waitress proudly put a pair of chopsticks in front of Betsy and decided to give me a knife and fork. A knife and fork! Like I'm one of the lame gaijin (foreigner) who come to Hiroshima just to stand out and be obnoxious.

This lunch incident took place in a little place across the street from the Hiroshima Peace Park. Since Monday, September 19, was a holiday ("Respect for the Aged Day") I decided to take a much anticipated weekend trip to the big city of Hiroshima and see my dear friend, Betsy Herzog (UNC alum and NC native...currently living in Okayama-ken as a first year JET). I was dining on a dish called "mixed fried lunch" and reflecting on the sites and stories found around the site of the first atomic bomb. I had arrived in Hiroshima by the shinkansen (bullet train) that travels at speeds of 285 km/hr.

Hiroshima is a beautiful city with clean streets and green parks. The famous sites of the A-bomb Dome (one of the few structures that survived the bomb's blast), the Hiroshima Peace Museum, and all the monuments to peace in the surrounding area give visitors an opportunity to reflect on history and appreciate the value of living in a world without conflict (something we still are trying to achieve). Betsy and I toured around this area on Saturday and I found my mind wondering to the scenes of massive destruction that followed the atomic bomb's detonation and how amazed I was at seeing a rebuilt city. Hiroshima is an awesome place filled with gaijin tourists and Japanese people who can speak English (two things one does NOT find in Ajimu).

After the peace memorials, Betsy and I took a further step back in history and went to see Hiroshima-jo—a traditional Japanese castle made of wood and stone (complete with a moat!). The structure was very impressive and had some sweet katana for me to drool over (I love samurai weapons). At the castle we met three gentlemen from Louisiana who asked us if we were touring Japan and we told them, "no, we live and work here in Japan." We live and work in Japan. At that moment I realized I'm not just a tourist in this far eastern country, but I am a resident. I live in Japan! My time in this country is not measured by days of a vacation, but rather by months of my young adult life.

Anyway, next came dinner in downtown at an "okonomiyaki mall". Okonomiyaki is food made with vegetables and meat mixed in with batter and cooked to create a sort of pancake-omelet-like dish. Hiroshima is famous for the dish and Betsy and I found a mutli-storied building full of little okonomiyaki stands (complete with a few other gaijin!) to dine in. Food was really a focus for the weekend and I think Betsy and I were constantly eating something tasty.

Day one of the Hiroshima Adventure ended with a stroll through what may have been the red light district of the city. There were all these young girls dressed up like they were going to prom trying to get men to come into their establishments. At first Betsy and I thought it was prom night…but then we realized that Japan doesn't have prom and that these girls were only there to entice men to come into "snack bars." No one asked me, so we just got ice cream and called it a night. Day Two was soon to come and that meant more adventure, more food, and more laughter!

The Universal Language

Despite NASA's claim that math is the universal language, I have come to believe that music is the one form of communication that links all living things together. Not just any music either, but show tunes and Disney songs are what establish common ground between people of different nationalities (and maybe the Carpenters too when traveling in Asia).

Today during cleaning time—the 20 minute block of time when every everyone at school must sweep, spray, or buff the various surfaces of the school—I sang Disney's Aladdin's "A Whole New World" with some of the students. Our assigned cleaning task is walking down the length of one side of the long school building with metal tongs and dustpans picking up bits of trash. Apparently they are singing some Disney songs in music class and I told them I preformed various pieces from both "Beauty and the Beast" and "Aladdin" back in the 5th grade. With our shared enthusiasm for lovely duets, picking up trash has never been so much fun. When I started dancing around while singing, two of the girls ran away screaming and laughing, but I think that means they were so amazed that they couldn't stand to be in my presence (like God and the Israelites).

Oh right, NEWS FLASH! I got a car! Yep, a little four-door Suzuki that reminds me a lot of my 1987 Honda Civic from back in high school (the one my sister maimed when she hit a trashcan in a parking lot). The car is small and powerless with a blue exterior, but when one lives in the inaka (countryside) any car will do (because traveling to neighboring towns to buy goods is a necessity). I've had to learn how to drive on the left side of the road…as well as get adjusted to narrow lanes and small parking spaces…and defend myself from crazy Japanese drivers who will pull out in front of you at any moment! But all in all, driving is rather fun and I'm grateful for the wheels (don't worry, mom, I've only gone down the wrong side of the road twice).



This weekend I'm headed to Hiroshima to see a friend and have an adventure outside of Oita-ken. I will be taking the shinkansen (bullet train) so my journey there will be lightning fast (I think). Everyday I feel myself settling in a little more and while I long for home, family, and friends, I also feel comfortable and content here in Japan. Until next time, thanks for reading.

Lycanthropy, Feces, and a Typhoon, oh my!

First, let me assure everyone that I am still alive and well despite the typhoon that swept across Japan the other day. I got a day off from school and spent it watching the wind blow sheets of rain across the rice fields. Typhoons, or taifu in Japanese, are like baby hurricanes and here in the valley of Ajimu we are protected from harsh weather by the surrounding mountains. The little stray cat that runs around my apartment building is safe too (but I neglected my bike and found it the next morning in a rusty heap in the weeds…whatever, it still wobbles fine).

I just finished week two of teaching and things have improved since my first day. One of the most enjoyable parts of the day is when students come into the teacher's room to talk to me at my desk. They can strike—er, come, at any point in the day including lunch when I'm busy dropping noodles all over test papers. They usually come in pairs so their friend can help translate for them and visvera. Here is a brief list of conversation topics the students have presented me with in the last week:

1. Lycanthropy (you know, the mythical virus that turns one into a werewolf)
2. Sesame Street (yes, Japanese High School girls watch Sesame Street)
3. Jennifer Lopez
4. My eyelashes
5. Other words for poo (I told them feces and wished Blake/Chris/Mike
could have been here in that moment)
6. Carolina
7. Terrorists
8. Split ends

Whatever the topic, I always end up laughing...sometimes really loud and I worry that my co-sensei (co-teachers) think I'm being obnoxious. But everyone seems to enjoy the fact that I'm around.

My Japanese language skills are improving! And good thing to because I need to figure out what people are always asking me. Being the goofy foreigner means I just go around saying "What?" and then giving a thumbs up whenever a student speaks correct English.

Well it's Friday and I have a big weekend of Japan ahead of me, so let me wish you all the best. Otsukarasamadeshita!

First Day of School

"Laughing in Japan: English Summer Seminars"

"Awaiting Gateway"

I'm a sucker for shrines in Japan.  I want to see (and photograph!) all the
sweeping roof tops of traditional buildings with their orange-red wooden
frames and stone guardians.  When I asked people "what can I see in
Ajimu?" they responded with blank stares and then urgings for me to travel to
other places to see anything special...Usa, Kyoto, Hokkaido.

When I look out over the narrow balcony on the back of my apartment, I see
extensive green rice fields and distant green mountains.  Morning mist often
hide the mountain tops and on windy, clear days you can see all the way to
Mt. Yufuin.  Surly there must be something to see out there.

One day after work I put on my tennis shoes and went for a run towards those
mountains.  I wasn't really concerned with the exercise as much as the chance
to explore in an efficient manner.  I had only run about one kilometer
along the rice fields when I came upon a stone torii at the foot of a large
hill.  A torii is a Shinto shrine gateway and marks an entrance into a
spiritual realm.  I was happily surprised to find one because whatever lied
beyond the gate was surly sacred.  About 50 stone stairs ascended upward from
the torii and disappeared into the trees.  I took a deep breath and began to
climb the stairs, noticing the worn stone as a sign of the shrine's old age.

At the top there was a small bridge and then even more stairs leading to a
second, smaller torii.  This gateway was guarded by to two stone lions.
Well, they could have been dragon-dogs, but I don't think dragon-dogs exist
in Shinto (or do they?).  The point is, there were two of them at the
entrance to the actual structures of the inner shrine.  I politely bowed to
the guardians and passed into an orange-red courtyard consisting of several
small buildings surrounded by stone columns.  There was no one else around
and the shrine say silently in the hot afternoon sun.  I was so amazed to
have found this place...here in little Ajimu.

I walked around for a while just staring at the sweeping roof tops and
orange-red wooden frames.  I wondered why in all the times I asked about what
to see in Ajimu no one had ever mentioned this place.  Did they remember the
shrine was here?  Was I the first to see it in the last 100 years?  Would the
shrine still be here when I left?

Eventually I had to leave because the heat was draining me and I needed to get
home for water and shelter.  On my way down the stone stairs I stopped for a
moment to look over the rice fields and the town beyond.  I could see most of
Ajimu from the height of the stairs and it wasn't until that moment that I
really acknowledged the beauty of my town.  Somehow noticing that natural
beauty made the distance to me American home not seem as vast.

Just before I took a step to pass out through the torii, a shiny gleam caught
my eye from the ground.  A single copper 10 Yen coin was reflecting the sun
and sat just inside the shrine grounds.  I picked up the coin and took it as
a gift from the divine...a reminder of how sacred places are out there
waiting to be found.  Japan was slowly revealing herself to me...and in
response I was slowly feeling more at home.