A Foreign Birthday

8/26/08

** A quick word to parents. I had many parents express to me that they were interested in sharing my blog with their children. I was thrilled that so many folks would take interest in doing so, and hopefully you’ve found my blog fun and entertaining for everyone (including for us big kids) so far. This blog is no exception, but I wanted to make sure I tossed out a quick fore-word saying that I will be delving a bit into some personal stuff that at times may have nothing to do with Japan. Don’t get me wrong, the blog will stay squeaky clean, it’s just I’ll be mentioning some things about Jacob the person this go round as well as the usual stuff about Jacob the JET.**

Yay!!! It’s my birthday! And as all of my birthday’s go, I normally don’t let people forget it for at least a week. This year’s birthday was kind of special. Birthdays are always kind of special, but lately I’m beginning to appreciate more about them than just the presents and attention that I don’t have to feel guilty about. If you’re anything like me, you remember the following on your birthday.

• I’m two years outside of my golden birthday (the day of the month you were born on is usually regarded as your golden birthday, for me the 26th)
• These gray hairs are spreading and appear to be going nowhere fast. In fact, they appear to be multiplying like rabbits.
• It’s now my third consecutive birthday single. Birthdays, much like Valentine’s day, tend to function as a singles awareness day.
• Is that a bald spot?! No… for real… IS IT!??!?!
In all honesty, I tend to be scrubbing the back of my scalp a bit less vigorously than I usually do.
• I’m too old to be a twink anymore, (a title I never relished anyway) and yet I still appear to be young enough to continue to get acne.
• Oh, a chocolate decadence cake with extra frosting?! Oh, you shouldn’t have. No, really…
• What do you mean I can’t check out college kids anymore?!
• Muscle aches from activities that usually… didn’t make you ache. I hear this trend continues.

But, hopefully you remember some good things too.

• As awful as you like to imagine your life is, people care about you!
• Yet another year on this planet is a divine gift and should be treated as such.
• I bought this laptop and didn’t have to ask my parents to buy it for me. (although they did ship it to me, thanks Mom and Dad!!!)
• The perpetual sense of confusion and bewilderment is still around, but at least it doesn’t bother me anymore.
• I have so much more free time to do something fun on my Birthday. Whoever said your college years were the best in your life and that you had tons of free-time was obviously not a chemistry major. They may have been great times, but without lab reports to write, homework to do, and finals to study for, I have so much more freedom that I did a few years back.
• I finally stopped getting carded at movies. Well, most of the time.

Kidding aside (well, only sort of kidding) I really like Birthdays because it gives you a milestone to have a look at where you’ve been and where you are going. I also like them because they let me catch up with and spend time with friends, old and new, and celebrate. There just aren’t enough excuses to celebrate in August anyway, so with a dearth of things to do in this hot, hot month, it’s easy to coerce people to pay homage to my special day. I’ve always felt sorry for you December people :P This birthday was extra special because I got to celebrate it with some new Japanese and JET friends.

Mama-san and Papa-san, as I mentioned in a previous article, have been talking about my birthday since I got here and volunteered to throw me a party. I invited my oyasan (landlord), her family, and a handful of JETs to come to the festivities. The plan was to meet at the Ono’s restaurant, buy dinner, and have a cake that Mama-san was making. That’s not what happened!

Apparently the Onos (by the way, the area I live in is called Ono also, and they have owned this restaurant for generations… let’s add 2 and 2 shall we?) shut down their entire restaurant to host my friends and me. Oh, and there was no menu, I think they made everything they knew how to eat. It was huge. It was like Thanksgiving and Christmas exploded on her table, sans the turkey and cranberry sauce. It wasn’t just so much that there were more kinds of food and pasta than I can remember, but what was extra sweet was that it all seemed to be screened for an American disposition.

They’ve figured out we like chicken and beef. Everyone always asks if I want fried chicken. Not only was the selection incredible, but they just kept bringing out serving after serving. Anyone who knows my authentic Mom knows I’ve been in this situation a time or two, and I knew how to pace myself. The others? They were a bit green in no time. As a seasoned veteran of the “more food than I could ever eat but need to try because my Mom worked so hard on it and I’ll feel guilty if I don’t try” buffet due to my own Mom’s influence, I gave the impression I was on course 24 and ready for desert when I was actually just taking super small portions and bites. There wasn’t a soul who wasn’t thoroughly impressed and I felt very lucky to have had such a nice party from people I hardly knew.

My birthday was on a Tuesday, and I had to leave to go to a meeting in Nagasaki on Thursday. Thursday was also the night of FIS Japanese Classes. My FIS group said they might go to a restaurant that night in honor of my birthday, but I had to catch a train that night. Granted, the last train left at about 10pm, but I wanted to leave and get down there earlier, so I planned to leave at 7:30pm. When I got to FIS, however, they informed me that they had invited lots of people from around the area to come and meet me and have dinner with me at a nice restaurant. Looks like I was taking the 10pm bus after-all!

It’s touching! I’m a stranger to these people and yet they seem to worry about me, what I feel like, and if I have lots of friends surrounding me on my birthday. Maintaining friendships is difficult in any country, but when I was at home, I had a pretty good idea about where my support was going to come from. I’ve been so surprised since coming here at how easy it has been to find a group of people who can carry on the same function. Once-upon-a-time I was talking with a Vietnamese co-worker of mine who I was socially friends with though I found her a challenge to work with. She was super-pro America because of her experience of leaving Vietnam and the warm reception she received from the North Carolinians she encountered upon her move. I didn’t realize at the time when she was telling me about how touched she was by someone showing her were the bus station was, and even buying her a ticket at the bus station, why that was something that would stick with her so long. I get it now.

Pics and Videos from the gala event can be found by following the highlighted links :)

six hundred fourty-four

Last weekend Patrick, Sue Ann, Lawrence, Eleanor, and I all went into Nagasaki to see the very famous O-Bon parade. A bit about O-Bon. O-Bon is a Buddhist celebration/observance in which the souls of the dead return to their shrines to be with their families. Families traditionally get together, have meals, tell stories about passed (and living) loved ones, and basically do what all families do when they get together… try and not irritate the mess out of each other.

The trip back from the afterlife is presumably a long one, therefore it’s pretty important for you to be back in your hometown for the holiday. Flowers, wine, water, tea, beer, and incense are frequently left at shrines and burial sites for the souls of the dead to take with them into the afterlife. It’s really quite beautiful. If it were me, I'd try and show a little early so I could swap my tea with someone else's beer. I'm reasonably certain you don't need to worry about your liver in the afterlife.

When a loved one has recently passed (as in there has been no O-Bon since their passing) it is a particularly important occasion because the family gathers to send the soul off into the afterlife. This is accomplished in a very practical yet beautiful way. The family either buys or constructs a boat, decorates it, adorns it with mementos and pictures from the loved one, brings it to the sea, sets the ship on fire and sails it. Often this is done with candles and paper lanterns floating about in the water also. The symbolism is thick and rich, and the experience seems to bring joy and comfort to a mourning family. The gathering reminds me of Christmas, Thanksgiving, and Halloween.

We got up bright and early to make our way into town and enjoy the festivities and see a few spots within the city. Well, almost all of us. Sue was feeling quite ill and spent the morning sleeping, while Lawrence, Eleanor, Patrick and I hit the trains. The train ride is very scenic from Sasebo to Nagasaki. Nagasaki, translated, means long peninsula. Much of the train ride travel is along the coast, and the views of the sea, and simple yet traditional farms and homes are often breathtaking.

We arrived in Nagasaki around 10am, and Nagaishi-Sensei’s (who’s canonization is coming right along I hear) map, hotel reservations, and important translations were right on point. With her map and directions, we easily found the hotel, dropped off our bags, and went sight-seeing. We first found our way to the peace park, a park dedicated to the bombing and longing for peace that it instilled in the Nagasaki people. It’s small, but intoxicatingly beautiful. The entire area is adorned with statues and dedications from the many nations who wished to pay tribute to the innocents who died from the blast, and the inherent longing for peace they hopefully share. We wandered about (it was very hot that day) and it’s very difficult to convey what it feels like to be in a place where just a few decades ago was one moment a thriving, beautiful city, and literally seconds later became a wasteland. Obviously the city has been rebuilt and is fantastic, but they purposely left the remains of destroyed buildings and it’s quite chilling. “Remains” is a bit of a strong word. It’s mostly the foundation and a couple metal spikes poking up.

The center of the park is marked with a massive statue. On each side of the statue is what looks like a small open closet. Inside is what looked like cloth or maybe paper streamers hung haphazardly alongside such beautiful works of art. This cloth or streamers or whatever were extremely bright and colorful and just didn’t seem to match the somber feeling of the area. I was wrong.

It wasn’t until after I looked above the small frame that housed these streamers and saw a golden origami crane that I realized what it meant. It’s an old legend that the person who folds 1,000 paper cranes (an act called senzaburu) so pleases the gods, that they grant the folder a wish. Sadako Sazaki, a young girl who was only 2 living outside Hiroshima when it was destroyed by Big Boy, is the focus of the significance of the origami crane. She grew up athletic and energetic, until she was 11 when she collapsed feeling insatiably dizzy. She was diagnosed with leukemia, or the atom bomb disease. Her friends and classmates rallied around her, and she told one of them in a hospital visit of the legend she heard about with the paper cranes. Despite the extreme pain associated with this task under the circumstances she began to fold the long, laborious project; her wish being to get well. Initially it appeared to be working for her, and after completing the 500th crane, she felt well enough to go home. Her recovery was short-lived, however as she became stricken with extreme dizziness and weakness and had to return to the hospital and to folding cranes. She was surrounded by her family, friends, and supporters when she finished folding her 644th crane, went to sleep, and never woke up. Her classmates finished her project with the wish for peace. Today, the paper crane remains an international symbol for peace.

Just a bit more on cranes… if you are anything like me, your next question was “why cranes?” Why not peace lotuses or something? Well, it turns out that the crane has been revered in Japanese culture for some time because they mate for life and exhibit touching loyalty. They construct their homes together and raise children as a unit. Its visage is often found woven into beautiful fabrics and wedding gowns.

We also visited the hypocenter. The bomb was detonated above ground, but the hypocenter marks the spot above land where it was dropped. It’s adorned with a marble tomb and tower. The area is also marked with the remains of a Catholic Church, built in the area. Surviving Catholics helped treat the sick and injured of the bomb blast. If you’ve ever been to the holocaust museum, you know what this kind of exhibit feels like. We encountered a very nice street vendor there, and happy to see I spoke a little Japanese, sold us some sherbet for Y100. Delicious on a hot day.

Lunch at the wharf, watching the sun dance on the ocean over beautiful food and coffee, followed by a short nap at the hotel (we picked up Sue Ann on the way) and we were ready to hit the parade. When I say short nap, I mean really short. Like, about 30 minutes into our nap, it started… I have never seen or heard so many firecrackers in my life. The streets were simply covered in them. Domo appeared highly annoyed, and spent the rest of the trip safely in my pocket. What happens is, is all the families gather and carry their respective boats down the street on the way to the ocean. There, crowds gather to watch the family carry off the spirit of their loved one. Is this is a sad occasion? Yes, I’m sure the families are feeling quite a lot while they do this… but you wouldn’t know it! The excitement, the jubilation, the fireworks, firecrackers, dancing, and the countless potential eye injuries would lead you to believe this was Mardi Gras. Except there’s no nudity, and you don’t wanna catch what the drunk guys are throwing at you in this parade (firecrackers).

It was recommended that we bring ear plugs. We didn’t, and were lamenting our stupidity until I recognized the kanji for ear in the window of a konbini followed by “sen” which by my awesome use of context clues guessed that meant earplugs. Thank God or I might be deaf. Uncomfortable, cheap earplugs, but they were totally effective. FYI, this is a VERY long parade.

After taking video and dodging several stray firecrackers, we made our way down toward the wharf, where we met several other JETs. We all hung out, talked as much as we could, and then went off to the water together. We found a beer stand by the water, that also sold ice-cream. (I love the Japanese… beer + ice-cream = heaven) There I met another woman calling herself mama and she insisted that her daughter give me not just a regular scoop, not a large scoop, but a JUMBO scoop . When it wasn’t big enough, mama took the reigns, and I had a big dang scoop of ice-cream my friends were all jealous of. Oh, and she gave me (just me) free edamame (soy beans… taste like boiled peanuts) with every beer purchase. Hey, at least this one didn’t cry.

By the water, the smell of the Pacific Ocean made me miss Seattle. I swear the Pacific smells the same no matter what side of it you’re on. The beer, the edamame, the ice cream, the new friends, the beautiful moon reflecting in the water… there was only one thing that could make this night any better. Any guesses? Wow… you’re right… it is a Japanese Elvis impersonator. He sang Elvis, and various country music songs. I took my picture with him, just need to get it from Lawrence. He was fantastic. The Japanese taught me a line dance, and I taught another ALT the basics of two-stepping.

Much like the Japanese morn their loved ones, I miss you guys, but you can't tell. :)

pictures ... videos

Getting a Keitai (no, it’s not a parasite)

I was tired of beating around the bush. I had a big trip to Nagasaki City coming, and I wasn’t about to let a little thing like the lack of my foreign registration card, no translator, and no mastery in Japanese hold me back from getting my keitai (cell phone). I was absolutely sure that I was going to get lost, kidnapped, or stranded on a desert island in one of the largest cities in Japan, and I’d only have myself to blame if I didn’t have a little piece of plastic innovation to accompany me. What I really wanted, of course, was Steve Job’s latest variation on geek-chic technopoly, the iPhone. iPhones are expensive. Like, to the tune of about 8man (pronounced “man” like a Jamacian, it’s Y80,000 or roughly $800). Don’t get me wrong, Steve had me convinced I HAD to have this phone. But when I found out I couldn’t even take it back to the states with me and make it work… I was a sad panda.

I reassured myself with petty little self-assurances like “there are hungry people in the world, and that’s an absurd amount of money” and “if you put your mind to it, you could really save a lot of money in Japan and an iPhone is an awful place to start.” That’s wonderful and all, but just the same, after all the pretty ads and Steve’s hip yet tacky faux turtle necks I felt like I was going to wind up enlightened and wise… just without an iPhone. Sadly, I left my honest and self-exonerating consumerism behind for more rational but boring common-sense and altruism.

I met with my colleague Sue-Ann and her best friend Lawrence who teaches at the school up the road from me. I don’t think I’ve mentioned Sue-Ann yet, and since so much of my work life will include her, I guess I should describe her to you. Sue-Ann is from Trinidad and Tobago, which I’m sure Pam may be getting a kick out of. Sue-Ann is I think around 22 and recently graduated (along with Lawrence, though in a different major) in Tourism Management. Sue-Ann’s accent is distinctly placed as being from the islands, but it is very mild and has subtle but distinct British undertones. To be totally honest, I was worried if everyone here, who was used to an American style accent, would have trouble understanding her. She speaks in clear, enunciated syllables however that her accents combine into something really quite regal. Her demeanor and work dress largely match her accent, and she carries herself with an unassuming grace that’s neither indistinct nor haughty. She’s quirky too, in her own totally harmless way. She spends entirely too much time at the hyaku-en store (dollar store) and fixing her nest at home; oh and the girl’s a trip at a party.

We made plans to meet at Starbucks at 1pm on Wednesday, but at 10am we got a very distraught phone-call from the school saying we needed to go in today and turn in a form that needed to be mailed pronto. As an aside, we had today and the last half of the week off for summer break. So, apparently the there is a “Japanese Language Course by Mail” the JET program offers, that few people seem to enjoy. I had already signed up for real classes and brought my textbook with me and had no interest. However, because it was “official” I had to send the order form in, marked “no thank you.” Of course, it didn’t help matters I tossed out that form along with a bunch of other things I figured might be worthless (turns out it wasn’t!) and I had to copy Sue’s. Of course, you have to realize it’s O-bon season and EVERYONE is traveling to return to their families. When Nagaishi sensei picked me up, we had to fight traffic to where Sue lives, park, and I had to explore the neighborhood on foot (sans my ketai) until I found Sue’s apartment, and then ask around until I found us a copy machine (we needed multiple copies for both of us anyway). We did manage to find a really cool bookstore where I got a copy of the Full Metal Alchemist manga I had been missing… it’s just in Japanese and I can’t read it. I bought it anyway… sorry, victim of impulse, and I’ve made it a long term project to read that stupid book.

We made our way back to Nagaishi’s parked car, who I’m nominating for sainthood, turned in the forms and then managed to just catch the next bus by running to the stop across the street. Already exhausted, we got into town, and walked about the arcade until we found a suitable place to eat. I put our names down, asked for non-smoking in butchered Japanese, and we had to wait because we were at the Japanese Denny’s (called Gyuemon) and it was packed for the holiday. Stomach’s nearly full, Lawrence and I bonded over a mutual love of ice-cream and food in general and we detoured to McDonalds and had an Oreo McYummy, or whatever it’s called.

I knew which mobile phone store we should go to, because I had been here the day before scouting which places could help us in English. Look, I’m all about some Japanese, but when I’m signing a contract, I need some help in English. As an aside, there is not one, not two, not three, but SIX different AU (the carrier we chose to go with) Mobile Phone Stores in this immediate area. I navigated us to the store we wanted, where I was assured yesterday there would be an English speaker present today. They were right. She spoke about as much English if not more so than I speak Japanese and was really fantastic. Even with the pair of us basically able to communicate, Japanese cell phone plans are very complicated even if you are Japanese, and getting all the “if… then…” statements correct in the cell-phone plan understood by all parties, not to mention all the little sales and promotions they had, was very very long and exhausting. It took nearly 3 hours, but they were super helpful and friendly. Not the least of which, they called the nearby bank for Sue when they found out they kept one of her foreign resident papers, and even convinced them to come and deliver that paper to the store so she could complete her transaction.

We went to the hyaku-en store. I bought a towel, Lawrence bought a soda, Sue bought… everything else. We also hiked to the train station and purchased our tickets to Nagasaki both for our trip this weekend for the O-bon parade and the mandatory business trip to Nagasaki later this month. Two round-trips is only Y5000 ($50) so totally not that bad. By around 5 we were ready to head back to the store yet one last time to pick up our phones. Japanese cell phones have a lot of features, and the woman we had been working with for so long was kind enough to explain them to me. My phone sends/receives emails, sends/receives texts, works in multiple countries, has a camcorder, a camera, a television, turns into a robot, surfs the internet, GPS tracks both you and your friends, gives you spoken walking or driving directions to any GPS location, plays and downloads music, (and makes phone calls). The robot’s name is Domo Arigato, but I just call him Domo for short. Domo doesn’t speak and only understands Japanese, so we have a language barrier to work on. Sadly we were all really tired and hungry so I didn’t have much time to interact with him.

By this time… it was late (like 5), and I was starving. Fortunately, I was invited to join some friends and another new JET I hadn’t met yet for dinner and maybe a beer or two. I said goodbye to those two, who I think had more shopping to do, and went home to get ready for dinner. Domo tried to help me fold my clothes, but he’s so little the most he could do was pick up one of my socks and drag it around. We headed off to meet everyone in Saza, a small town farther out from Sasebo than my school or where I live.

I met Gill, my new favorite Scottish, guitar-playing, song-writing, vegetarian ALT, at her house. She was naked. I was early. I waited in her foyer in my socks for a few minutes while she dressed and she invited me in. Shortly after, we were off to the bar/restaurant to have dinner. I had met Gill’s friend Kate here once before, and I was really happy to see the guys who run the place again. Really friendly people, and it’s great because they give me a reference point for male speech patterns in Japanese. That, and they love to listen to me try and speak. A few beers and an amazing pasta dish later, we were having a great time. There was laughing, guitar playing, some dancing, and costumes. Just look at the pictures. The apron was great… apparently it’s used for something called “sexy-time” around the holidays, in which the apron is worn and nothing else. Happy Turkey-Day to you too. I suppose for those of you searching for culture notes, I’m reasonably certain “sexy-time” is colloquial, not traditional.

Pics, and one vid. Oh, and if you aren't reading the photo captions (click the big round "i"), you should be!

Souls at Peace

Saturday I was invited by Oyasan (honorable landlord) to come with her to (another, different) nearby shrine with her, her family, and children. The occasion of August 9th, or the memorial of the destruction of Nagasaki by Fat Man is usually recognized in some way by Nagasaki natives. It’s been my observation that Japan’s observance of these holidays both here and in Hiroshima is largely apolitical. Ceremonies morn the fallen, celebrate life, and strive for peace. They are critical of all nations that partake in nuclear arms, and serve as living reminders of what these weapons are capable of.

We walked across the street to the shrine, and then up the multitude of stairs. This shrine was much smaller, but similarly decorated with lanterns the whole way up and it also shared a hillside directly across from the one in my previous blog. The Kawasaki’s are a sweet as they come as far as land lords or just people in general are concerned. I left them a box of detergent wrapped in a bow as a welcoming gift for them and their family. Their response has been incredible! They made me dinner once, they go out of their way to make sure I know how to handle the trash, and their daughter makes me origami houses and pianos. For those of you taking notes on Japanese culture, it’s traditional when you move into a new apartment to give a small gift to your neighbors and landlord. In most cases it’s a hand-towel, but in mine it was detergent because I was afraid I’d choose the wrong color. Hello neighbor, have a hand-towel of death and misfortune! ;)

Quick aside, if you ever come to Japan, there are two things you must never be without when you are around and about in public… besides your passport which is for legal reasons. It’s a pack of tissues and a hand towel. The Japanese use the hand-towels to wipe the sweat from their faces and neck, which is nice and all, but more importantly, what if you need to use the bathroom? Public restrooms are frequently devoid of toilet paper, towels or hand driers, and sometimes even soap. Don’t get me wrong, I believe the Japanese to rival the French Canadians as one of the cleanest cultures on the planet, but you are expected to provide that for yourself. While heated toilet seats and washers at your personal house are great, Japanese public commodes are sometimes set in the ground (ladies, I haven’t snuck into a bathroom yet, so sadly no report here) and you are intended to squat over them. While I understand their concept of un-cleanliness to touch the same commode as other people, squatting is something I’m, um, still adjusting to.

I was delighted to find that at the top of the hill was the shrine, and who was attending the shrine, but my friend Midori-san (mama). She explained to me that her husband had a vein burst in his leg and had spent several days in the hospital. I was very sad to hear about this, but she assured me he would be ok. I put money in the box (Y100, a dollar) and assumed the Shinto tradition of clapping twice in front of the shrine and bowing. At least I think it’s Shinto…

The remainder of the evening was really quite pleasant. I helped yakitori (BBQ) the food, I chatted with Midori san, and watched all the events of the evening unfold. First, taiko, or Japanese drumming, was being performed as I rose up the steps, and everyone was taking turns giving it a try, even me. Everything music related feels like guitar hero now… thanks Jason. After that, I entered Japanese tourist mode and began taking pictures. I whipped out the camera and took photos of the girls wearing their yukatta, or light summer kimono. One thing of particular notice to me was a strange sand pit in the center of the yard behind the jinja (shrine). There was a paddle, a twig, and something else. Maybe there was a tree planting ceremony? Who knows… all I knew was that this place felt very peaceful.
Looking around, I saw families and children talking, telling stories, and the pleasant happy chatter that one would expect in maybe a public park. It reminded me in a small way of Piedmont. I purchased what I thought was water in the strangest shaped bottle. I asked one of the children ordering one if it was water, and he said it wasn’t, and then used some words I didn’t understand. I then attempted to suck water from the top and was having trouble making anything come out. I then saw another adult use words I didn’t understand in my direction, and sure that I had just committed some grave offense to the ancestors of this holy place by disrespecting the strange bottle of water, I asked for help. They made motions I assumed I was to mimic so I followed their lead and unwrapped the plastic top to my unusual container. Then, a small piece of plastic fell from the top of my bottle on the ground and Oyasan immediately began to chatter to another woman rapidly, while glancing out at me with one eye. Not only had my incompetence insulted the ancestors, but so had my disrespect for this plastic thing.

Apparently, that plastic thing was a bottle opener. Oyasan was trying to get me to use someone else’s who’s hadn’t dropped so I could use a clean one. The bottle contained a sweet, clear cider and to open it, you have to shove a plastic bottle opener into the top. Doing so will force a glass marble into the neck, allowing you access to the cider. Apparently (this is conjecture) the bead prevents liquid from escaping if dropped, cider from exploding in your face if shaken, and also prevents you from chugging it down in one gulp like a frat boy at a keg. I’m surprised it didn’t turn into a robot when I was done with it.

At this point a cluster of children was forming around the sand-pit and the guy who was drumming when I ascended the stairs, was collecting the children. Oyasan explained to me that they were about to perform Japanese Sumo, but for kids! It’s death by cuteness. The children lined up next to the nice old guy, paired off over straw laid out as temporary mats, and lined up in the sand to fight for fame and lots of candy. I watched, enthralled for over an hour. Even the girls got to do it. How fun is that?

After the sumo, there was a traditional Japanese dance led by Midori-san danced around the time of O-Bon. It’s worth noting that O-Bon is a Buddhist tradition, and this was a Shinto temple. The Japanese practice both, sometimes also adding Christian elements and see no real conflict with this. Japanese people don’t seem to have any conflict internally or externally with subscribing to multiple religions. A Japanese person might have their birth celebration held at a Shinto shrine, a Christian wedding, and a Buddhist funeral. Before going on, I should say that big chunks of the following are conjecture and opinion. Japanese society and high-politeness evolved from a high population density in urban centers. The island is highly isolated and thus homogenous. People aren’t nosy, are focused on being productive, and prefer not to make waves. In other words, the religions of Japan were never interested in becoming power structures designed to herd believers into a positive vs. negative afterlife experience. The small island created a highly communal society, especially surrounding the cultivation and sharing of resources, reflected even today in the Japanese working environment. Mostly, they just cared about getting along in crowded conditions with limited resources. No system is perfect, and Japan has some very real problems facing it, but as a result, Japan lacks the highly volatile religious battles and separations arising from religions becoming power-centers like in Europe and eventually the Americas. While Japanese societal expectations are extremely high and focus on blending in, there was never a religious backed “hate-culture” arising from the church based on revenue generating personal belief systems.

Now that I’ve waxed sociological, I should mention we polished off the evening with delicious yakitori, a fireworks display, and a raffle where everyone got a wrapped gift. I myself won a box of tissues. As I’ve discussed, one can never have enough tissues in Japan. Japan is a wealthy country, but the people who live in this area are simple, salt of the Earth kind of folks. I’m very happy to be here.

Pics and Videos!

Finding Japan

8/9/08

I needed a day off. I mean, it’s great and all that I’m off from work, but in general I needed more than just time away from school. I woke up somewhat mentally exhausted. Let’s begin with the back-story…

Thursday I finished round 2 of the 14 consecutive lessons I had given on a small clip of the movie Finding Nemo, finally discerned how to sort and recycle my trash and set it out that morning, only to make myself miss the bus in the process, and in my efforts to be able to obtain a cheap calling card, purchased another very expensive calling card to call an 800 number to verify my account which ironically after two international calls intended to get me international calling rights never got verified. My internet box finally came in the mail today, only to discover that I cannot install the internet package without installing the Japanese language on my laptop, which requires the XP Installation CD which I do not have for a very good reason (long story). It’s possible that I could pull those files off the web but that, also ironically, requires the internet. Even when I do find them, and get the CD running, I won’t be able to read the Kanji that are produced and if I can’t guess the proper button pushing sequence, it’s not like I can call tech support. Why is everything that seemed so effortless in the States so hard in Japan? It could be the language gap ;)

Of course, I topped Thursday off with my first ever Japanese language course in Japan. I was basically surrounded with a rotating panel of about 2-5 native speakers at any given moment for an hour and a half and forced to speak in my broken Japanese in one of the most terrifying situations I’ve ever been in. I have so much more respect for foreigners now. I was awakened early today, Friday, which we have off as compensation for working tomorrow (Saturday), by the sounds of my new most disliked thing about Japan which is this damn mobile advertisement service. It’s like an ice cream truck, but instead of playing the “Music Man” and delivering frozen treats to small children inevitably making the world a better place, it blares the sounds of a high-pitched Japanese woman singing the praises of some new, ultimately meaningless, thing or service.

Look, it’s not that I don’t love Japan, but it’s just that in order to keep it that way I decided to take a mental holiday. I needed a break from, talking, reading, bowing and well, Japan. It’s so hard to think in Japanese at this point, it makes your head hurt. The first comfort of the day I indulged in was unplanned. My little brother Andre called me and I got to speak with him for a while. It’s always so good to hear from the people who’ve known you more than a week and to speak in rapid, slurred, native English. Next, I cooked hash browns fried in butter with scrambled eggs at home. After my breakfast, off and on I spent a large portion of the late morning and early afternoon watching the rest of “Dead Like Me” on my iPod (still no TV). I finished out season 1 and it was really great. It was at times very funny and others very sad and touching (I actually cried a little at one part! Unusual for my heart of stone). The overtones of the importance of family, the precious nature of life, and the treasure of being loved made me miss my Mom and Dad. I went for a walk at lunch, but avoided places where I knew people so I wouldn’t have to wrack my brain for vocabulary. It started to rain, so I supplemented my TV show with a book in English my friend Trey turned me on to. Generally, I avoided Japanese conversations and dropped my usual study habits for a day.

But you know, it’s moments like these that you have to remember why you came. Yeah, my brain was tired from the crash course in Japanese language and culture and study, and utilities management, but there were things I could do that didn’t require much brain activity and would still allow me the experience of being in Japan. Around 6:30pm it was still raining, but very mild and it looked like it was going to get lighter, not heavier, so I packed up my favorite small backpack and decided to go walk up this big hill behind my house I’d never gone up.

As I started up the hill, I was confronted by hundreds of small lanterns hanging from the path, trees, and twine that was strung up, going up the side of the hill into the forest. Snapping pictures, I finally found my way to a very large, stone carved staircase cut in traditional Japanese style, leading to a beautiful archway and finally a Shinto Shrine. The shrine itself was closed, so I continued along the forested path. There were small outcropping with statues and incense holders for prayer all along the path and the lanterns had just turned on at twilight as the sun would be setting in the next 30 minutes. The electric lamps glowed in the softening pink light behind the dense trees in a way that seemed, not to betray my fantasy tainted nature, distinctly Elven. I came across a small stone path leading away from the larger path and even though it was getting late and I was being eaten alive by mosquitoes, I just wanted to see, if even briefly, what might be down there.

My curiosity was rewarded with what will be imprinted on my memory as one of the most beautiful sites I’ve ever seen. I wandered into a large cluster of family shrines, each adorned with a large stone spire placed on a raised dais. Each shrine was beautifully decorated and felt ancient. Fresh flowers were placed in the shrines, along with the residue of burned incense, along with opened but otherwise untouched water, tea, and occasionally even beer (which made me laugh). Obviously these gifts had been left out for the return of the souls of the ancestors of these families in preparation for O-Bon. The pathways cut through the rows of shrines, some tucked away in little caves an outcroppings, others with the main group, others beautifully protected by decorative fences. The way the shrines were built into the hill was a stunning piece of art in and of itself, but what really hits you is that the shrine cluster is built into a clearing on the hillside, and the panorama view is nothing short of breathtaking. The town of Setogoshi is nestled into a valley, surrounded by pristine forest and mountains on all sides. It’s green on the horizon in every direction. Furthermore, I made it here just at sunset, and it was deserted, and I had the privilege of enjoying it alone. Maybe it’s because I’ve spent too much time by myself, of maybe because of the light and the time of day, but the place felt distinctly holy and it rapidly instilled me with a sense of peace I had been longing for. Instinctively, I crossed myself. Sadly, I’m afraid my pictures and description won’t do it justice, it’s something that you just have to see.

I finished watching the sunset, and I made my way back to the path following it just a bit further around to a nearby empty playground. There, I encountered the first living people I had seen since climbing this hill/small mountain. A mid-teenage boy and girl were sitting on an empty swingset, facing away from me, toward the sunset. She was seated in the swing, legs stretched out in front of her, while he was content to crouch behind her, wrapping his arms around her while she gently swayed and they whispered through the view of the sunset. I wanted to stay and watch for a moment. It’s a demonstration of the simple, not vulgar, connection with another person many of us yearn for. As much as I wanted to stay and live that feeling vicariously for a moment, I left quickly and quietly without them noticing; this was their moment, not mine.

On the way down I saw the only other two living creatures I saw on the trip… a little boy and girl, probably siblings, playing what I assumed to be tag using the slope of the hill to make themselves run faster. Shinto teaches that life, death, souls of the living and departed, and all physical and living things are connected. I went home, and finished my day by cooking fried pork-chops and broccoli to remind me of home. Sadly, I’m a blue-box-boy and my meal was partially incomplete due to the lack of blue-box mac n’ cheese. It’s so funny to me that I went out of my way today to get away, and instead almost effortlessly rose above the noise and streets -- and, in doing so, found Japan.

...pics

The Seaside Festival

8/3/08

I met up with some new friends and Lumarie to go check out the seaside festival on Saturday evening. I successfully navigated the bus route to the arcade (yay!) and met them at Seattle’s Best Coffee. We left and went out to the harbor to a massive festival, complete with vendors, food, and live music. We wandered about and met several of the students from my school, took pictures with them (many in traditional summer kimonos), and perused the temporary shops. The fireworks started at 8, so by 7pm we had found a really great spot by the water and waited. Anthony and Dino, the other two ALTs with Lumarie and I, were from a neighboring island and took a ferry to come to Sasebo for the weekend. I’ll have to go and see them soon, they were tons of fun. Now is a great opportunity to say the Japanese really know their hanabi (Japanese for “flowers of fire” or fireworks). Most shows I saw in the states, even in big cities like Atlanta, were 15-20 minutes tops. This show lasted over 50 minutes. Every 15 minutes or so we’d clap and say “yaaaay” only to stop and be like… “oh, guess it’s not over.”

We topped off the evening with a drink at the “Standing Bar” where they have the cheapest beer in Sasebo along with equally inexpensive but very delicious gin and tonics. It was awesome and the best gin and tonic I’ve ever had (and I hate gin!). We befriended an older gentleman who, as a pattern is starting to inform me, was much more receptive to us when he found out we were teachers and weren’t gunjin (Navy). He bought us a round and instructed the bartender to serve it to us a few minutes after he left so we wouldn’t feel obligated to buy one in return. We finished the evening with “pe-ri-ku-ra” or basically a photo booth that is super popular in Japan with teenage girls. You take funny pictures with various kinds of backgrounds and pose in ridiculous ways, and then you decorate your pics with all kinds of additional markings. Things like hearts, stars, rainbows, add hats, cartoon animals, sunglasses, and maybe even your name and the date in glitter print. The pictures print off as stickers you can attach to scrap-books or photo albums and you can have the pictures you like best sent to your cell-phone. I know what you’re thinking… don’t say it. I’m not saying it isn’t true, just don’t say it :P

The pictures are fantastic... Have a look!

Settling In

Events occur 8/1/08, written 8/3/08

On Friday I finally obtained my luggage from the school. By then I had my oven set up, I had slept in my apartment, I had completed my paperwork for a foreign resident and basic utilities, and I had learned to take the bus with my shiny new bus pass. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still afraid of a massive mukade (centipede) winding up in my bed at night or of finding a tarantula in my sock drawer, but everything seems to be going nicely so far. While I’m in a well developed area, we still live in very close proximity to the jungle and the noises make for a nice background music for sleeping. On Friday I also had my first meeting with my kouchou (principal) and that seemed to go well. Everyone liked the fact I brought in a sushi obentou for lunch. They kept laughing and talking about the fact I said “dai-suki desu” when referring to sushi. Hmm, wonder if that means I like sushi too much. I’m sure I’ll find out eventually.

I have discovered that Ben, my predecessor, left big shoes for me to fill, and I don’t just mean that metaphorically. He literally left his shoes here at work. His shoes and all his papers from his desk are exactly where he left them while he was working, so it was a bit strange for me to clean out someone else’s desk. He was quite good at what he did, but I’m still relatively confident that I have something to offer they haven’t seen. After all, how many line dancing chemists from Georgia come through these parts, anyway?

No, I didn't take pictures of Ben's shoes. If you're really disappointed, I'm sure there's a website somewhere out there just for you.

Almost Missing Out

Events occur 7/31/08, written 8/3/08

Sadly I missed dinner on Thursday night with a couple of the English teachers, Lumarie (the other ALT who is on the way out on Wednesday, replaced when Sue Ann gets here), and some other teachers because I was out with Nagaishi-sensei trying to get my bank account, cell phone, registration, etc. Even though I missed dinner with Shimomura-sensei, who couldn’t go out drinking with us because she is expecting, I did get to go out and meet some of the other ALTs, some of whom were in Tokyo with me. We went out to an area of Sasebo called the “arcade” which is just a large strip-mall, heavily populated by Navy and other Americans along with some familiar businesses like Starbucks, Seattle’s Best Coffee, KFC, etc. It was night when we went to the arcade with this group of familiar strangers and I had been here earlier during the day when I was trying to open my bank account. It was eerily different at night. Unsettling in that awkward absence you feel in an area that is obviously designed to accommodate a lot of people yet is nearly empty. The warm summer air coming in off the nearby waterfront didn’t carry the salty hues I would have expected from being so close to the ocean, but it was instead heavy with moisture; glazing the inside of my throat and lungs with a warm, damp coating.

I was starving as was the other new ALT, and we all went to eat at a really great Japanese restaurant that was roughly the equivalent of a tapas restaurant. We all ordered some crazy stuff that looked good or we had never had, and it was awesome. I couldn’t tell you exactly what I ate, but nearly all of it was delicious. They just don’t make miso in the states like they do here. Dinner was shockingly reasonable for the quality of the food, so we all paid ¼ of the bill and left (I could totally get used to not tipping).

We turned down a narrow entry-way that lead into a small alley ending in an elevator that seemed distinctly out of place. Lumarie asked us if we liked rock and roll, specifically the Red Hot Chili Peppers, to which we all replied yes. For me of course, the answer was true, but I have a feeling I would have lied and said yes, even if I had never heard of them. We walked inside to find the Japanese version of a dart bar. It had all the markings of the kind you see at home and in movies… mainly darts, and a bar. But there was also a small stage in the back. After ordering my beer with one of the other new ALTs that had come in from Tokyo with me the bar staff starting making their way to the stage. For the next hour and a half, we were treated to covers of the Goo Goo Dolls, RHCP, Oasis, Finger 11, as well as others. Imagine “Wonder-Wall” being sung not by a guy with an absurdly thick English accent, but rather in Japanese-English. It had roughly the same effect, and really not surprising if you think about it. I had two beers and I was ready to go home at this point. We gathered everyone up, said our hellos and goodbyes, and went to the car of one of the ALTs that does not work at my school. Lumarie, the only one who really knew where I lived, had to go home by another route, so I was stuck on my own. Everyone else knew how to get to Ono (the area I live in), and I had walked around enough to know where to go, right?

I couldn’t have been more wrong. I was dropped off in Ono, in an area I recognized, and told everyone goodbye thinking I was by my apartment. The Scottish girl was worried about me, however, and gave me her phone number in case I got in trouble. Shortly after getting out of the car (it’s around 11:30pm) and waving goodbye, and turned around to find this was NOT my apartment building. Um… well, they probably just let me off a bit early. I’ll walk this way a bit. I followed the road heading the same way the car was traveling for well over an hour and a half. I did manage to find my school and grimly kidded myself that if it got too bad, at least I could be at school when it opened in the morning and get help.

By 2am I had turned around when I starting walking past rice fields I didn’t recognize. I had stopped several times by now trying to call the number I had, but with no luck. I couldn’t get a connection. I’m not sure if the line was busy or if I had a bad number. Whatever the problem was, it was clear I was on my own. See, the thing was, I had stupidly left the sticky note with Nagaishi-sensei’s number and my address on it at home because I didn’t want to lose it if I got money or something out of my wallet. I did manage to find a cab, but I didn’t have my jishou (dictionary). This was going to be tough. First, it was really hard to describe the fact I was lost without knowing the word for “lost.” Second, where was I supposed to tell him to go? Japanese addresses are difficult, and I only had seen it written in Kanji. Landmarks? Like maybe the market next to my house? Yeah… couldn’t remember the name of it, and when I told him I lived near a supermarket in Ono, he brought me to the wrong one in an area I didn’t recognize.

He finally stopped at a office to whom I assumed the taxi company he worked for belonged, and he called a friend who could speak English to come and get me. It was almost 2:30 and I had taxed my brain to the limit when I finally had a small breakthrough. I was constantly pestering Nagaishi-sensei about the Kanji I saw everywhere I went. One of them belonged to a place next door to me of which I had hoped was a restaurant but was explained to me to be a bar. The name of the place is called kurumi, but the first character, written in hiragana which I can read, looked like shi, not ku to me. “Mi”, the last character, was written in kanji, but for whatever reason, the mishap with the first ku had caused the name of that bar to stick in my head. Finally, I kept trying to get the cab driver (still on the phone) to listen to my pleas about my breakthrough. He stopped talking and looked at what I had written for him… “eeee, to” (Japanese for hmmmm) Kurumi? Hai, Kurumi. Eeee, Ba- desu ne? Hai, it’s a bar! (In Japanese) It’s next to my house! I nearly hugged a stranger in that cab when he pulled up to my apartment, but by this time we had bonded a little and he understood how glad I was to be home. Cabs are expensive here, but it was $20 well spent to be safe and in my apartment’s bed.

A couple pics from the bar.

Venturing Out

Events occur 7/30/08, written 8/3/08

Those of you who know me, know there’s always an adventure attached to what would seem to be a reasonably normal task. Tonight’s adventure? Finding a place to eat in a strange neighborhood in sub-suburban Japan. So, my sensei dropped me off in my apartment, and was like "OK, you have good rest, see you tomorrow." Alone in Japan, not really knowing what's happening, and worst of all hungry, I decided I needed to venture out and see what could be had to eat. Armed with plenty of cash, an empty stomach, and a Japanese-English dictionary I simply started walking around my neighborhood. My gas stove wasn’t working yet, so I knew I had to eat out until that happened. I went wandering, and there was something about the o-bentou (honorable boxed lunch) place across the street that just didn’t appeal to me. I heard there was a Y100 o-sushi ya (honorable short-grain sticky rice with fish for one dollar shop) nearby, and I’ve been dying to eat sushi since coming to Japan. I wandered, but I was afraid of getting lost, so I stopped and looked across the street at a place whose kanji I recognized as shokuji (meal), but I wasn’t exactly sure what kind of place it was. I could read the katakana outside that said “ramen” and my stomach was talking to me so I substituted hunger for courage and walked in. Inside, I found a very small, local diner kind of place, but it was largely empty, except for one man eating at a table, hunched over his food. He didn’t look up, so I figured he didn’t work there.

I was kind of afraid at this point, and I couldn’t see anyone else, either there to greet me, or in the kitchen. I almost walked out, but I was committed to seeing this adventure through, so I asked the man eating for his attention. He looked up and I asked if there was a tenshu (shopkeeper) available. He looked at me funny and I became more nervous than ever. All of a sudden, in lieu of a verbal response, he starts banging on the table with an open hand and shouting out to the kitchen. At this point I was utterly terrified… I had no idea what was in store for me other than I was in a strange place and there was a lot of noise being made due to my arrival, and I was probably going to die hungry.

An elderly gentleman in his, say, mid-50s emerged from the back of the kitchen and I managed to muster a smile and tried to explain I was hungry… and in my nervousness I forgot all my Japanese and the best I could muster was… “me-n-u o kudasai“ (can I see a menu?). He asked me if I could read Japanese, and I told him, I could not read kanji. He asked me what I wanted, and I asked for ramen. He said, “ramen dake desu ka?” (just ramen?!) and I was trying to figure out what else could come with ramen when he told me if I liked curry that I should have that. I do like curry, and I was happy to oblige with whatever the man was willing to make me if I could just make it out of here alive and preferably full. Then he asked me the magic question… “gunjin desu ka” (are you military?) and again, “Naevi?” I shook my head and explained I was a new English teacher at the local high school. He asked me which one, and I told him , and his expression totally changed.

It was at this point a woman around his age entered the store and he excitedly told her about this strange gaijin in their store in rapid Japanese I couldn’t make out and he disappeared into the kitchen. The lady sat down at my table and explained to me that that was her husband and they had a daughter that went to my highschool and she was on homestay in Seattle Washington with Urata-sensei, my supervisor. When I explained this back to her and even told her I used to live in Seattle for 6 years her (and her husband shouting from the kitchen) excitedly asked me questions about myself and told me about them.

I told them I was a line dancer from Atlanta Georgia, I used to work for Coke as a Chemist, and I had moved to rural Japan to be an English teacher because I wanted to try teaching while I studied Japanese. This of course sounds like a lie, but in my case it actually happens to be true. I explained everything I knew about Scarlet O’Hara (what the Japanese know about Georgia), and they showed me pictures of their girl, gave me their names, gave me a day planner, gave me fruit (honey-dew melon, like many fruits and vegetables, is not cheap in Japan), gave me beer, complete with kanpai (toast, cheers), made me o-nigiri (honorable rice balls) for my breakfast the next day, and even melon flavored pudding cups for desert to take home with me, and only charged me for my curry! I made my first new friends in Japan, and I’m very happy I decided to eat at their restaurant. Mama (as she calls herself) said she and Papa were going to make me a cake for my birthday later this month and to be sure and come back. I’m so happy I have new friends so soon after moving to Japan.

No, I didn't interrupt their kindness to ask if I could take their pictures. More pics, coming, promise.

Arrival In Nagasaki

8/3/08

Things have finally slowed down enough since I arrived to catch up on my blog. Today is Sunday, the 3rd of August, but I’ll catch you up on all events since my arrival in Nagasaki prefecture, and ultimately Sasebo (the large town/small city I live and work in) last Wednesday. The airplane ride was the last opportunity for me to chat with and talk to my fellow ALTs that I had bonded with since orientation. We all said our goodbyes, practiced our introductions, and departed the plane as a group. Outside, there were lots of people holding up signs with our individual names. I didn’t see mine, but I did run into someone else who had a sign from Sasebo, and he called over the teacher who was sent to pick me up. Nagaishi-sensei (name translates to “forever stone”) introduced herself and I did the same. Nagaishi sensei is an English teacher at my high school.

I’d tell you the name of my school, but I recently found out I cannot mention the name of the school or any of my students on my blog or else I could get in trouble. Japanese schools and homeroom teachers play a critical and involved role in the life and development of their children, sometimes even more so than the parents! It’s my understanding that there are school employees who regularly check the web and blogs for anything related to their school, checking for inappropriate name dropping like I mentioned, if any of the girls have boyfriends (which they aren’t allowed to have), or other activities prohibited by the school. It’s ok, I’m going to rename all my students with English names once classes begin as a class activity so I’ll be using their fake American names anyway. At first this was all very shocking to me, but I guess it makes sense. Why would you take a healthy chunk of your limited funds and spend them on a foreign teacher who blogs all day about all the things at your school that irritate him/her? Not that I would do that, but I’m sure it’s happened.

Nagaishi-sensei’s English was well above proficient. I was very afraid that my English teachers would have terrible speaking skills as I was warned might happen, but I was relieved to find her very easy to talk to, both in Japanese and English. I was very happy to meet her, but it should be noted however, that she is not my supervisor. My supervisor, Urata-sensei (haven’t translated it yet) is in Seattle right now, escorting the second year students on the English track through their homestay. It’s like a 3 week exchange student program. Nagaishi sensei took me to my first restaurant in Nagasaki, a chain restaurant called “Joyfull” (too many L’s, I know :).

It’s very hot here. I would say it is about the same kind of weather as Atlanta, humidity and all, plus a couple degrees. I was reasonably comfortable, but the natives are complaining because it is a record summer and they are not used to the heat this high. Inside Joyfull, I was very saddened to find the restaurant was not air conditioned. Fortunately, though I didn’t know this at the time, it turns out the ea-kon (air conditioner) was out temporarily, and the Japanese love their AC. That’s all well and good, but you have to imagine that I was in a 3 piece wool suit, neck-tie and all. We finally took off for the school and Sasebo and Nagaishi-sensei called the school and found out the principal, who I was to meet that afternoon, was not in, and was going to be out on Thursday as well. The great part is that I was able to go straight to my apartment, get settled and rested, and put off the very formal introduction and greeting that must take place with new ALTs and their kouchou-sensei (principal). The not so great part is that I had to ship the bulk of my luggage separate from my overnight bag due to the 15kg (33lbs) weight restrictions for checked bags on Japanese Airlines and it was not due to arrive until Friday! Yikes!

So, now I get to totally brag for a minute… My apartment is SO beautiful. Apparently my predecessor lived in a dump, and they decided to get me a new apartment, and it really is almost entirely brand new. It’s very small, but with beautiful hardwood floors, separate bed/living room and kitchen, bathroom, and shower/bath area. If I understood what’s going on correctly, the office pooled their money and very sweetly purchased me a new gas range and broiler which did not come furnished with the apartment. The landlord met us at the door and he helped install my new oven, showed me how to work the hot water, my washer, etc. Hot water is very different, but kinda cool how they do it. Apparently they see heating a tank of water and just holding it as very wasteful (makes sense I guess) so water is heated as you use it. There is an electronic control panel in my kitchen and bathroom that controls the hot water temperature and you have to turn it on before you want to generate hot water. While you have to remember to turn it on, the water actually gets hot much faster than in the states with a traditional hot water heater. All the controls are in Japanese, just like everything here, and it’s all the more reason to study. OH, whenever someone comes to see me, there is an electronic control panel with a monitor that shows me who is at the door, and allows me to buzz them in or talk to them. Any my toilet?! Wow! I may never be able to get used to standard American toilets again. Ok, I know how unpleasant the concept of a warm stream of water pointed straight at your, um… how to say this politely, “behind” may sound at first, but it’s the only way to go. You feel so… clean; every time I go to the bathroom I feel like I’ve just tip-toed through a field of daisies. It’s fantastic.

Sadly (or maybe luckily) for you, no pics this post.

Videos of my new diggs instead!

The Great Adventure

The Great Adventure - Preamble

7/29/08

Ok, I admit it. I’m underperforming from day 1. I showed up to my pre-departure orientation on Friday in casual garb while everyone else was in formal, and further, due to a silicone based hair-care product, um, incident… I don’t have extremely formal shoes. To top it off? I just got back from skipping an entire morning’s worth of lectures on team teaching. To my credit, however, I’ve had the time of my life and I already took a team teaching class in Atlanta.

The Great Adventure: Jacob Gets a Haircut in Tokyo –

Since I’m confessing, while it may not be the most glamorous thing I’ve ever admitted to, I’m an avid watcher of the travel and cooking channels. One the many pieces of advice I’ve heard and chosen to forget, the one thing I heard that really stuck with me was that getting a haircut in a foreign country is a great way to embrace the local culture and get you away from the touristy beaten path. For some reason having latched on to that one thing in the countless wasted hours of watching other people travel, I have been hard-set on getting a haircut in Tokyo. Tokyo’s a big city, with lots of people, many of whom have hair that needs to be removed periodically. This should be a piece of keki (cake), right?

Well, yesterday I asked the Japanese version of a concierge where he would recommend I get a haircut. I’m certain he understood what I was saying… at least he nodded like he did. I made pretend scissors with my fingers, mock-clipped at my hair and in my best Japanese I said I wanted to get my hair cut. Do you have a most honored recommendation? (as a quick aside, you can look forward to these blogs occasionally translating what asking a simple question in Japanese might sound like in English) He informed me that the salon in the hotel was a bridal salon and did not accept men. Oh, ok… but wait, tomorrow between the hours of 10:00 and 6:30 the building across the street has a barber that can take care of me. Wonderful! It’s a plan…

Today came and after my roommate woke me up at 4:30 this morning with his other drunk friend I decided to get a jump on my day, get breakfast, figure out how to make an international call, and iron my shirts in the hospitality suite. I actually came back to bed around 7:15 after breakfast because I started to feel drowsy again, and fell asleep until 8:50, just in time to run downstairs and catch the opening lecture at 9. After an amazing lecture from the director of Japanese Education, and four incredibly boring lectures from his peons, I cemented my decision that skipping lectures in place of irreplaceable time in Tokyo was totally worth it. Besides, how long could it take to run across the street and get a haircut?

Arriving at the carefully marked building on my map, I quickly realized I was going to need help navigating the all Japanese directory in front (speaking and reading Japanese are two entirely different things). Furthermore… this place didn’t look that commercial. In fact, it felt like an office building. Oh well, I’ll hop in the local camera store for help. I asked a pretty young lady standing in the Cannon kamera-ya (camera store) if she could tell me what floor the place where I would obtain a haircut was? (I didn’t know how to say barber shop).

After showing me their new model of an electronic dictionary which translated barber shop into ba-ba- she informed me there was no such place here. In my best broken Japanese I tried to tell her that the man at my hotel must have been mistaken when he gave me this map, and where could I get a haircut a place that would accept men. She looked slightly confused and called two of her other female employees and they held a pow-wow in the middle of the store while they frantically searched the internet, looked in phone books, and called ahead for the best place for me to go. WOW! Talk about service. They seemed so confused while they did this. (I’m a master at interpreting body language :P) They were probably confused because apparently what I actually said to them was not I need place that cuts men’s hair, but rather I need a place where men cut hair.

We all finally figured out what we were saying to each other when I got a pen and wrote out what I wanted. I remember my teacher told me that the Japanese frequently can read/write English, but just can’t pronounce it or understand it when spoken. YAY! Through the combined efforts of nearly an entire staff of a local Camera store in Tokyo, they found a place where I could get my hair cut, cut out the advertisement from the catalogue, called ahead for me, and marked on my map where to go. I’ve officially decided that the Japanese are the sweetest people on the face of the planet.

My journey to the salon wasn’t uneventful, however. I followed my map diligently to the west side of Shinkjuku (the area where we are staying here at the hotel). It was definitely not close and Japanese summers are very hot and humid, similar to Georgia. I made it across the railroad tracks safely (on a pedestrian path!) and turned a corner to a site I was not expecting to see. West Shinjuku is huge!! It’s like Time’s Square in New York, just everywhere and it goes on and on. It was very overwhelming, but what a cool surprise. And to think I wouldn’t have seen it if I had chickened out and not gone on my adventure. Anyway, I found the department store marked on my map, but there was nothing obvious about how to get to the salon. The little advertisement that the kamera-in (camera store employees) cut out for me had street names that I could not find and certainly couldn’t read. The first person I asked seemed really confused, and not surprisingly sent me in what turned out to be totally the wrong direction. I stopped in a Men’s clothing store and asked someone else. He confirmed I needed to go back the same way, but he was not familiar with the store. Basically, I just had to go back and ask someone else.

At this point, my wool suit was really starting to make me sweat, and I decided to walk into the department store. This was my first experience in a Japanese department store, and they are much bigger than we are accustomed to here in The States. Japanese department stores have many levels and sell a variety of products, kind of like a self contained, multi-storied strip mall. They frequently have beer gardens (complete with greenery) on the top floor where you can relax and drink beer in the evening during the hot summers. Finally, I found someone who was familiar with salon I was looking for and she spoke in very simple, slow, and easy to understand Japanese. From this moment on, if you are reading this and would like to continue to be my friend, you have to be nice to foreign tourists and speak in simple, retardedly slow English so you don’t get bad karma because it’s so hard and very scary. I understood her to mean that I had to go to the next building which was the men’s version of the department store, and it was actually behind the building away from the main road. When I got there, she said it would be above the honorable flower shop near there. I managed to find the signs pointing to the men’s store (fortunately they were written phonetically, pronounced men-n-zu). Inside the men’s store, there was in information desk and I asked the clerk if she knew of the shop. Yes, and apparently I was very close. She didn’t say anything about an honorable flower shop, but I followed her directions down the alley to the nearby building.

I walked in a door, intending to ask directions again when it dawned on me that I was surrounded by orchids and a perfumed scent in the air. I could have spent days in this store. The Japanese take their flowers and flower arranging seriously. I politely made my way through the small room to the escalator and followed it to the second floor. They were brushing wigs and looking funny at the gaijin, so I kept going. On the third floor I finally found it! Yatta! (I did it) I walked up to the counter, triumphantly introduced myself, and just as they were greeting me, I completely lost my focus. This salon was busy dressing people in traditional Japanese hair and kimono. WOW! Talk about a cultural immersion. I excused myself momentarily and went outside where there was a Mom, Grandma, and the cutest little girl in her red kimono posing for pictures. I asked grandma if I could also take pictures and she was just as sweet as she could be, saying of course. The girl was (to her credit I’m much taller than her father, have reddish hair, and round eyes) was very shy and didn’t want to pose. I kneeled down and in my nicest Japanese I told her how cute she looked in her kimono and she smiled brightly and blushed and indulged my desire to take pictures. I thanked Mom and Grandma and went back in to claim my prized haircut.

Inside, the attendants at the front desk had just watched the ordeal taking place outside with much amusement but they asked my name, what I wanted, and asked me to wait for a few moments. They came back with my stylist and she brought me to the back and sat me down in front of a plain vanity with a bench and asked me to describe the haircut I wanted. I know how to say, “shorter please” and I smiled hoping she would take it from there. She wasn’t happy with that, and when I reassured her she was the expert, she produced a catalogue with pictures, but said she was worried that they were pictures of Japanese people. I couldn’t tell the difference between how the hair might be cut, pointed to a picture, and she nodded and requested the presence of the man who would wash my hair. I got more than a wash, however, I got a full scalp massage. It was very relaxing feeling this Japanese man take a good 10 minutes or more to massage my scalp, neck, and temples. Oh, quick aside… he covered my face with a napkin. It was so weird having a piece of cloth draped over my face and watching the blurred outline of a stranger touch me. When he was done, I asked him about the napkin and he explained that it was to keep water out of my eyes while he washed. Makes sense. I was actually washed twice, once before and once after my haircut.

Miyagi, my stylist, cut my hair and we talked, referenced my dictionary, and she laughed when I explained what a “cow-lick” was and what it literally meant. She told me that in Japanese they are hair tsunamis :) After my washes and cut and massage I went outside to pay and Miyagi-san let me take a picture with her. She firmly instructed me that tipping is not traditional, so I reluctantly paid just the $50 even required for the service (cheap for Tokyo and what I got) and left.

If this experience wasn’t already fantastic, I passed a Starbucks on my way to the hotel. The iced grande mochas are just as good as they are in Seattle. Could life honestly get any better?!

Going into the windup, and the Pict-ures!

A Small Night Out on the Big Town

7/28/08

Just a short blog entry to catch you up on tonight. The other Nagasaki JETs and I all went to do Japanese Karaoke! Just FYI, it’s way cooler here than in The States. We all got our own private room, we got to pick from a huge selection of songs, complete with music videos, and let me introduce you poor, underprivileged Americans to a new concept… all you can drink beer and mixed drinks. An hour and a half of private karaoke, music videos, four microphones, tambourines, and more (decent) beer than I could ever want to drink. How much could this bit of Earthly Godliness cost? $20. Not kidding. Seriously. Good times, good times. After karaoke, we went exploring the city, found a couple bars to go to, took pictures with the locals. You should just see the pictures ;)

Oh, P.S. for those of you keeping score, I was actually back here by midnight… maybe 12:30.

A Rising Sun

7/28/08

This is the first day of our orientation, and we are currently on our lunch break. I finished lunch early, and don’t have long, but wanted to blog really quick about my experience so far. Really quickly, the flight here was uneventful. We got into Tokyo about an hour early. It was a 12 hour flight, and there is a 13 hour time difference between here and Atlanta. I slept for about half the flight, and the rest of it I spent watching season 1 of “Dead Like Me” on my iPod. Cute show, never seen it before, but it’s frequently funny, dramatic, and sad.

Fortunately, customs was incredibly easy. I was not searched. In fact, he saw my JET sticker and just waved me through. The Keio Plaza Hotel that I am staying at in Shinjuku (an even more foreigner friendly part of Tokyo) is beautiful, and my room is immaculate. My roommate’s name is Jonathan, and he used to live in Tokyo, so last night we went out and around looking at everything. He is fluent in Japanese, but I went out of my way to try not to lean on him for help with ordering food, drinks, and asking for directions. The Japanese are very polite so far, and even if you struggle with Japanese, they really seem to appreciate you trying to speak it. Like most major cities, no one is stopping you on the street to ask you your life story, but everyone has been polite and helpful when asked.

About the JET program… We were just crammed into a room with about 500 people. There was not enough space to accommodate us, but the presentations were good. The best was the culture shock presentation. It was very funny when he talked about his experiences of culture shock. They graphed (yay graphs! The Virgo in me couldn't have been happier) out how your mood is going to go up and down during your tenure in Japan. It was very detailed, complete with alternating scales of mood elevation, depression, adaptation, and some variations for other people's possible experience. I just met all the people going to Nagasaki-ken (my “ken”, or prefecture describes the geographic area in which I will be living).

I just finished having an all bean lunch with beans prepared to look like meet. FYI, it’s shockingly convincing how much it looked and tasted like beef :). I think what’s so spectacular about this is the breadth the cultural experience and richness of people I have met. I had breakfast at a table full of people from London, my roommate speaks Japanese and worked at a fast food restaurant in Tokyo, I just had lunch with people from all over The States (some of them are also dancers), my bus driver was from the UK, and I shared an elevator with a guy who has spent a good chunk of his life in South America working on the logistics of getting beef from one side of Columbia to the other. Most of these people are under 30 and collectively have some of the most spectacular life stories. In fact, some of the most interesting people are some who have spent little time traveling. In fact, I sat in front of a guy who’s first time ever being on an airplane was this trip. Nothing like starting out with a bang.

Just as a quick aside… the Japanese totally have toilets figured out. The seats are heated, they wash you, they dry you. You don’t just use the restroom, you have an experience. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a little violating at first, but you’re never the same after!

See the pictures that go with this blog here!