I have not turned down many meals in Japan. In fact, I think I can honestly say I have eaten more than my fair share of the vast majority of the food placed in front of me.
I have proven an ability to eat all sorts of crazy stuff like natto (fermented soy beans that the kids frenziedly stir with their chopsticks until it resembles regurgitated snot [yes, that's what I meant]), fish with eggs still in the tummy, a plethora of vegetables I don't know the names of, not because I don't eat veggies but because these are harvested from some dark crevice or recess unknown to the Western world, trees (seriously; these people will eat anything), and an assortment of animals in various stages of preparation and mammals in a variety of forms.. You know that school lunch when they tell you "oh, it's many different kinds of fish"? You're eating whale. They consider it a fish.
Even after living here for over a year, I shock my friends and colleagues by explaining that yes, I do eat raw fish (sashimi) and I know what wasabi is, even though i incorrectly pronounce it as wasabi. In general, I just try to be polite and grown-up - unless I think something will make me physically ill, I eat it.
Take wild boar.
Last night, my office had a practice end-of-year party for those of us who would be at alternative end of year parties. We ate stew made from a boar my boss trapped outside his house. (How's that for locally farmed?)
Normally, this would host no problem. Except they put the hide in the stew. Which made it taste like hair.
What's more, I don't know if you've ever tried to de-hair a wild boar, but it ain't like plucking the down from a baby duck. Those follicles stay put. So the hair was still in the meat as well.
Now, I tried to be reasonable. Most everybody was eating the whole thing, so I gave it a shot.
Then I gave it up. It was the singularly most unappetizing meal I have had in the last ten years. And I include my own cooking in this (which is why I mostly eat raw fish).
Later I realized the hide had most of the fat and had floated to the top of the stew. So after a few servings, what remained was the richer meat from closer to the bone. It looked delicious, but the broth still tasted like hide and hair. That was a no go for me.
To make things better, later in the evening as more people drank, they left the hide alone. Only a few old codgers (and one young wife) ate the parts that got stuck in my gullet (and my teeth).
Japanese food is delicious. But let's leave the local farmers to what they're best at.
Rice.
2012/12/21
2012/12/19
Last Week and Last Week to Go
So last week I was out of town at the Mid-Year Conference for Kochi ALTs. This year they renamed it the Skills-Development Conference, but don't think that changed anything. Last year was pretty horrible - boring, dull, filled with contradictions and frustrations. This year was a step up. Fewer contradictions and some actual development of skills.
First up we had a lovely speaker who told us all about why Japanese students are
1) just like all students around the world and
2) put off of English by random shit we do of which we have no conscious awareness.So fix it.
That's an over-simplification, of course. It's hard to fit an hour and a half speech into a snarky two sentence summary and still hit all the main points, but I'll try.
For one thing, the professor pulled out a number of excellent ideas for fostering independence and confidence in foreign language acquisition, all of which I would love to implement. Reality confronted, however, and let's remember I'm an assistant who has been here a year and a half and was only yesterday allowed to lead a fifteen-minute portion of the class. And that was after the teacher gave the students a speech telling them how stressed they were going to feel, but not to worry because even she didn't understand me in English or in Japanese. I'm happy to say that the kids did very well, they were more energetic than I have ever seen them, they mostly participated, and none of them suffered debilitating hysteria or strokes of any kind, nervous or synaptical. (not a word, just in case you were wondering..)
The speaker's other point was to say that Japanese students are put off by things like 1) beards, 2) technology, 3) their peers (I can't do much about that one), 4) our attitudes (truth be told, my attitude is sometimes poor - I am trying to mask utter rage and frustration and the closest I can come to content is probably boredom), and 5) their own Japanese-ness. This is true, of course. If the group is unintentional in its acquisition of new skills, the individual may just be paralyzed by the idea of becoming 'different' or skilled at something. Especially if there seems to be little application for it in everyday life.
Other than those little snippets of inadequacy, though, the conference was a success. We got to the end of it and survived, so I count it as a success.
We had a culture day, too, where we got to try out different crafts and projects that we may not be able to do in our own villages. I did calligraphy and martial arts. The calligraphy was fun - more so because I was so bad at it, the sensei (teacher) couldn't even lie to me like she did to the other kids. She wandered around the room giving excellent advice and guidance, happily complementing the kids who did passably well. When she walked by my table, she pursed her lips and tried to smile, but I could feel her soul wilt inside of her as she glided on. I don't hold it against her; I completely understand the feeling. Every time a child runs up to the piano bench and bangs Fur Elise out with nothing approaching grace, sophistication, or even basic rhythm. Story of my life, sister.
Martial arts was pretty awesome. My six months of karate training helped out with the basics. I even recognized the names of the moves the teachers brought out. Then we moved on to nun-chucks, long spears, and a few self defense moves. Loved. It. There is nothing so fantastic as remembering your technique, even if it was over two years ago. The senseis have a dojo in Muroto, but that's quite a hike. I have taiko on those nights, I'm sure.
Anyway, now we're back in our own little villages, back to the grindstone and the wild times of Tano cho. Tomorrow is our last class for the year - we are having our Super-Super (Really) Fun-Fun Grand Review tomorrow. I have to go buy some kit kats or something to hype them up for the end of it. And me. I am definitely going to be drinking from Thursday until 2013.
First up we had a lovely speaker who told us all about why Japanese students are
1) just like all students around the world and
2) put off of English by random shit we do of which we have no conscious awareness.So fix it.
That's an over-simplification, of course. It's hard to fit an hour and a half speech into a snarky two sentence summary and still hit all the main points, but I'll try.
For one thing, the professor pulled out a number of excellent ideas for fostering independence and confidence in foreign language acquisition, all of which I would love to implement. Reality confronted, however, and let's remember I'm an assistant who has been here a year and a half and was only yesterday allowed to lead a fifteen-minute portion of the class. And that was after the teacher gave the students a speech telling them how stressed they were going to feel, but not to worry because even she didn't understand me in English or in Japanese. I'm happy to say that the kids did very well, they were more energetic than I have ever seen them, they mostly participated, and none of them suffered debilitating hysteria or strokes of any kind, nervous or synaptical. (not a word, just in case you were wondering..)
The speaker's other point was to say that Japanese students are put off by things like 1) beards, 2) technology, 3) their peers (I can't do much about that one), 4) our attitudes (truth be told, my attitude is sometimes poor - I am trying to mask utter rage and frustration and the closest I can come to content is probably boredom), and 5) their own Japanese-ness. This is true, of course. If the group is unintentional in its acquisition of new skills, the individual may just be paralyzed by the idea of becoming 'different' or skilled at something. Especially if there seems to be little application for it in everyday life.
Other than those little snippets of inadequacy, though, the conference was a success. We got to the end of it and survived, so I count it as a success.
We had a culture day, too, where we got to try out different crafts and projects that we may not be able to do in our own villages. I did calligraphy and martial arts. The calligraphy was fun - more so because I was so bad at it, the sensei (teacher) couldn't even lie to me like she did to the other kids. She wandered around the room giving excellent advice and guidance, happily complementing the kids who did passably well. When she walked by my table, she pursed her lips and tried to smile, but I could feel her soul wilt inside of her as she glided on. I don't hold it against her; I completely understand the feeling. Every time a child runs up to the piano bench and bangs Fur Elise out with nothing approaching grace, sophistication, or even basic rhythm. Story of my life, sister.
Martial arts was pretty awesome. My six months of karate training helped out with the basics. I even recognized the names of the moves the teachers brought out. Then we moved on to nun-chucks, long spears, and a few self defense moves. Loved. It. There is nothing so fantastic as remembering your technique, even if it was over two years ago. The senseis have a dojo in Muroto, but that's quite a hike. I have taiko on those nights, I'm sure.
Anyway, now we're back in our own little villages, back to the grindstone and the wild times of Tano cho. Tomorrow is our last class for the year - we are having our Super-Super (Really) Fun-Fun Grand Review tomorrow. I have to go buy some kit kats or something to hype them up for the end of it. And me. I am definitely going to be drinking from Thursday until 2013.
2012/12/05
The Wednesday Post
When I straighten my hair, the adults say - wow! It's straight.
When I wear it curly, nature's way, my kids all study me
in deep suspicion - Perm?
I like this gate. Of course, it's in the narrowest rode possible.
Somebody once said, a house without a cat is a like a body without a soul. But what about a town with a cat population that rivals the human one? It's not a problem, per say, but it's not a solution either. People need to spay and neuter their pets. And then put collars on them and keep them safe from the kids who throw rocks at them because they are so prolific as to be considered a nuisance. .
This guy lives outside my house. Once a day, I give him
a goldfish cracker. Not enough to build a dependence, just
enough to encourage an expectation.
The dockyards especially attract the little beasts. The fishermen
clean, scale, and gut their fish here, and the cat population flourishes
on the refuse.
Blogger Hates Me
Which is why the format is all whacked out in the past two posts. It says one thing here in editing, and then it looks entirely different on the actual blog.
$#%&!#@@!!!
$#%&!#@@!!!
2012/12/01
The Infamous Office Party
Japan is a "high stress" culture, some Japanese will tell you. Mostly this is because they place a lot of stress on themselves when they really don't have to. For example, teachers get forty days of paid leave a year. I have yet to meet a teacher who has taken more than one day off from work, even in the summer.
Office workers would rather shower you in bacteria-filled mucus deluges than take their disease-ridden bodies back home two hours early on a day when business is so slack, they've sat at their desks chatting through their surgical masks with coworkers. No one goes home early, unless you're the slacker foreign assistant English teacher who literally has no work to do once classes finish for the day, and often before classes start for the day.
One of the by-products of this way of life is the full acceptance of alcohol being the only answer.
Kochi prides itself on its drinking culture, its drinking games and the funny little ill-balancing cups they produce in pottery sheds across the prefectures, and on their ability to drink like fish and not get wobbly (unlike the cups):
Office workers would rather shower you in bacteria-filled mucus deluges than take their disease-ridden bodies back home two hours early on a day when business is so slack, they've sat at their desks chatting through their surgical masks with coworkers. No one goes home early, unless you're the slacker foreign assistant English teacher who literally has no work to do once classes finish for the day, and often before classes start for the day.
One of the by-products of this way of life is the full acceptance of alcohol being the only answer.
Kochi prides itself on its drinking culture, its drinking games and the funny little ill-balancing cups they produce in pottery sheds across the prefectures, and on their ability to drink like fish and not get wobbly (unlike the cups):
 |
| Famous Kochi bekuhai drinking cups - ugly as sin, but that doesn't matter since you won't remember it tomorrow anyway.
The office party becomes that moment when you are able to finally relax, let your hair down, and tell people what you really think of them. For instance, at our party this week, one of my coworkers was routinely told that he was getting fat while another had written on his hand "don't talk" as a way of reminding himself not to get carried away (he is known for being much too blatantly honest at these sort of events, even for a drinking party).
It always starts awkwardly, especially if you happen to sit next to a stranger who pales at the thought of communicating with a foreigner. I was late to this party, even though I live closest to the establishment, and so through a process of eliminated seats, ended up next to two dudes from my office and one very young nervous fellow, who tried to avoid eye contact all night long.
For the first twenty minutes or so (after the speeches, which were pretty funny since my town's Board of Education hosted and we are known for being painfully tight with our money and very entertaining), everybody looks around anxiously, piteously helping neighbors with food and drink and politely declining anybody helping them.
Then you're on your third round (this is Kochi - most sparsely populated region in Japan; number three for drinking beer, outside of Tokyo, which wins by volume, and Okinawa which is inhabited solely by surfing drunks), and all the asian faces turn bright red. They can't help it, that's how it goes when they drink.
Suddenly, your neighbor is happily arguing with you about cooking shows and proper etiquette for farting in public, and the coworker who sits across from you at the office and never says three words, is arguing that you're the one who never talks to him and when are you going to come play basketball with the community team? Your boss's boss plunks down next to you with his potato-sake and after they spend five minutes telling you "potato, Merry, not rice!" he orders a hot sake pot and you begin the endless cycle of pouring each other drinks.
This year was especially fun because last year when my boss's boss tried to talk to me, somebody had to interpret. This year, we got along without help, although everyone around us threw in as many irrelevant Engrish words as they possibly could to better facilitate understanding, except for the new father at the end of the table who looked like he was going to fall asleep at any moment.
When I got compliments on my Japanese, I explained it was because I was drinking. Moshi nondara, nihongo ga jouzu naru yo! Which may not be correct, but was comprehendible.
It's unfortunate we can't drink at the office itself. We would get a hell of a lot more done and be much less stressed.
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2012/11/30
Fall Colors
Damn you, NTT West! (If the internet now fails completely, we'll know I have some readers in Japan, and that they're English is better than they let on!)
Anyway, some pretty fall colors:
And then it posts them in the wrong place! Oh well.
2012/11/23
Thanksgiving
Happy dia de ありがとうございます!
I had a taiko performance this morning:
I had a taiko performance this morning:
And I made almost no mistakes (even in my duet!)
Then I ran around looking at all the stuff for sale at the rest of the festival. My fifth graders were selling rice and something made from rice, so I bought them both, although I gave the thing made from rice away to a friend.
They also sold huge radishes. I didn't buy any because I don't
know how to cook them. Or most things...
There were some activities. The brass band club played some ditties. And there was arm wrestling.
They're Japanese. What'd you expect?
After that I cleaned my house like my life depended on it. The thing is, I thought a friend was coming over for coffee - but she thought she was coming over to pick me up and take me back to her house which is warmer, has a bigger television, a real piano, and a cat. So we did that instead.
Then I went to lunch at a french restaurant with a friend - half a chicken, apparently, fried and covered with a mayonnaise sauce, green things, and sweet peppers (also a side of rice, some sort of cream soup, and coffee, but this is only the chicken):
It was tre tre tasty.
I played the piano at my friend's house for an hour or so and her cat ran away from me.
Now I'm drinking the only beer suitable for Enchanted.
More on that at sipsandflicks.blogspot.com
Happy thanksgiving, ya'll!
2012/11/16
13 Degrees and Falling Fast!
Last night I dreamed that it had started snowing.
It doesn't snow here, except once in a great long while. It is also still 13 degrees Celsius so it's not really THAT cold. But it feels like it's freezing. My coworker has already started to complain about his wife's shopping list:
1 electric blanket
1 heavy down comforter
1 pair of woolen slippers
1 new fireplace
1 better-insulated apartment
I have a cheaper solution: wine.
But seriously, my bed is also being piled with numerous warming apparatus. I have two comforters, an extra little blanket for my feet, my winter coat spread out over my feet, and my sweatshirt spread out over my legs. (I do have a third comforter and an electric blanket in the closet, but I refuse to break them out before we hit the 10 degrees mark. One must have some way of marking boundaries.)
It's the kind of cold you can feel on your face when you wake up in the middle of the night to use the loo. The kind of cold that hits your legs and wraps around them like river water. The kind of cold that makes your students bring blankets to school to wrap around themselves as they sit in class in their skirt uniforms. It's winter in the world of no-insulation buildings.
Technically, it's still fall. (Autumn)
Today I'm heading into the city for some winter supplies. Chocolate, cheese, wine, whiskey, oatmeal, and new work pants. Mine are summer trousers, light-weight linen and cotton affairs. I aim to get me some lined woolen slacks. Maybe warm-tech from Uniqlo will actually be warm this year instead of just warm-sounding like last year.
And until then, there is always onsen.
It doesn't snow here, except once in a great long while. It is also still 13 degrees Celsius so it's not really THAT cold. But it feels like it's freezing. My coworker has already started to complain about his wife's shopping list:
1 electric blanket
1 heavy down comforter
1 pair of woolen slippers
1 new fireplace
1 better-insulated apartment
I have a cheaper solution: wine.
But seriously, my bed is also being piled with numerous warming apparatus. I have two comforters, an extra little blanket for my feet, my winter coat spread out over my feet, and my sweatshirt spread out over my legs. (I do have a third comforter and an electric blanket in the closet, but I refuse to break them out before we hit the 10 degrees mark. One must have some way of marking boundaries.)
It's the kind of cold you can feel on your face when you wake up in the middle of the night to use the loo. The kind of cold that hits your legs and wraps around them like river water. The kind of cold that makes your students bring blankets to school to wrap around themselves as they sit in class in their skirt uniforms. It's winter in the world of no-insulation buildings.
Technically, it's still fall. (Autumn)
Today I'm heading into the city for some winter supplies. Chocolate, cheese, wine, whiskey, oatmeal, and new work pants. Mine are summer trousers, light-weight linen and cotton affairs. I aim to get me some lined woolen slacks. Maybe warm-tech from Uniqlo will actually be warm this year instead of just warm-sounding like last year.
And until then, there is always onsen.
2012/11/12
Things I Learned from the Avengers
I only recently saw Marvel's (Disney's?) the Avengers, directed by the murderous Joss Whedon. Seriously, Agent Coulson? Really? REALLY?
I know I'm a bit out of the entertainment loop, but I've been busy and I live in the middle of nowhere. And movies in Japan are expensive. It costs about 17 US dollars to go to a flick at the mall. The little theatre in the forrest in Yasuda is probably cheaper, but I worry a bit that it might not be playing English films, which would be okay if difficult, and more that I might get murdered on my way back through the jungle after the picture, which would not be okay.
Anyhoo, so I rented the Avengers and spent all of my daikyuu time watching Mark Ruffalo apologize for being emotionally unavailable and listening to the cheesiest dialogue I've heard since Adam West commended the dolphin who gallantly sacrificed itself in front of that torpedo so Batman and Robin could save the world from the Yellow Submarine (or however that one went - Pow! Bam!).
Nay! That was not a slam against the comic cohort of assembled avengers! That was just the third paragraph. I really liked the movie and thought the dialogue was a compilation of all the things you wished they would say, especially Tony Stark's conversation pieces, but that usually get left out of movies. Like all the actors knew they had to take it seriously, but not too seriously or they might not be able to face themselves in the mirror when it was all over.
I'm trying to figure out a way to work the movie into my sixth-grade class. They'd love it and it would make English MUCH more applicable to them.
So a list of things I've learned:
As long as we're on that one, just don't ever live in New York City. Yeah, it sounds romantic and wonderful, but let's face it. It's always the first to go, whether from the bad guys (see ID4, King Kong, etc...) or from friendly fire (see Failsafe).
I know I'm a bit out of the entertainment loop, but I've been busy and I live in the middle of nowhere. And movies in Japan are expensive. It costs about 17 US dollars to go to a flick at the mall. The little theatre in the forrest in Yasuda is probably cheaper, but I worry a bit that it might not be playing English films, which would be okay if difficult, and more that I might get murdered on my way back through the jungle after the picture, which would not be okay.
Anyhoo, so I rented the Avengers and spent all of my daikyuu time watching Mark Ruffalo apologize for being emotionally unavailable and listening to the cheesiest dialogue I've heard since Adam West commended the dolphin who gallantly sacrificed itself in front of that torpedo so Batman and Robin could save the world from the Yellow Submarine (or however that one went - Pow! Bam!).
Nay! That was not a slam against the comic cohort of assembled avengers! That was just the third paragraph. I really liked the movie and thought the dialogue was a compilation of all the things you wished they would say, especially Tony Stark's conversation pieces, but that usually get left out of movies. Like all the actors knew they had to take it seriously, but not too seriously or they might not be able to face themselves in the mirror when it was all over.
I'm trying to figure out a way to work the movie into my sixth-grade class. They'd love it and it would make English MUCH more applicable to them.
So a list of things I've learned:
Do all your banking online. Never go to the bank. Ever.
Captain America can’t always be
there to save your ass when you’re cashing your pension check. (And if you
happen to live in Gotham, just never leave your house. Unless you’re
moving.)
As long as we're on that one, just don't ever live in New York City. Yeah, it sounds romantic and wonderful, but let's face it. It's always the first to go, whether from the bad guys (see ID4, King Kong, etc...) or from friendly fire (see Failsafe).
Learn English. Because that’s the only language in which
your alien attackers will bother to speak to you no matter what country you
inhabit. They will assume you know it and will get irrationally pissed if you don't instantly kneel when they demand this of you.
Get a headset and NEVER be without it. Girls, we’re lucky,
most of us can hide it in our hair. Boys, go get yourselves helmets or
super-hero masks, while you’re out there getting the headset. Nobody wants to
be the last to the alien-destroying party and there is simply NO TIME to
speed-dial your cell.
If you happen to prefer distance-killing (as opposed to
hand-to-hand combat) figure out life’s cheat code for arrows and bullets.
Legolas isn’t the only one who never runs out. Hawkeye obviously googled that
one before he went to work for S.H.I.E.L.D and where Agent Romanov stores the
extra cartridges on that uniform, well, I’m too much of a lady to ask, but as a lady, I
have some ideas.
If you happen to be human and you have access to a
super-suit, make sure all the other parts of your domicile are easily breakable
and non-body-damaging. Because when the evil demi-god from planet F-ing Nowhere
throws you headfirst through your plate-glass windows, you are going to get
your face cut off, unless it’s that candy-glass they use for stunts in
Hollywood. Especially if the super-suit launch is a tad delayed.
Thanks, Jarvis.
Always carry a knife and don’t go out without your cover.
Okay, I learned those from Gibbs, but they're totally applicable here.
Learn to fly a jet. If you don’t have access to a jet, just
learn to fly a regular non-commercial aircraft of any form. This will allow you to fly top-secret-state-of-the-art-paid-for-by-your-tax-dollars military grade aircraft. You bought it and if you break it, hey! Uncle Sam will buy you another.
If you're looking for trouble, you might try Budapest or Marrakech. Because that is where all the fun stuff happens.
And if you absolutely must live in NYC or any of those other cities constantly besieged by alien forces, get to the gym but quick! Being ripped will be the single defining factor in whether you survive the fallout or get shredded like cheddar cheese over a taco in the next war of the worlds. Don't worry so much about your lower body, if you're a gentleman. The super-hero physique is an upside down triangle for men. Focus on your biceps and pecs; this was the only movie I've ever seen in which almost every male character had boobs as big as the female characters' (boobs).
I watched the damn thing about five times today. Itunes really messes with you over this whole 24-hour expiration thing. That should be my super-power, actually. The ability to magically keep rented movies in my itunes library forever for the price of the rented picture. Will ask Mr. Stark about it...
2012/11/06
The Werewolf's Tale
My eikaiwa students' homework assignment last week, in honor of Halloween, a holiday I truly abhor, was to compose a story about a typical Halloween-ish character. Various tales included witches, goblins, black cats, and one last-minute made-up-on-the-spur-of-the-moment plain pumpkin.
The following is my story.
All rights reserved.
The Werewolf's Tale
Wednesday
The following is my story.
All rights reserved.
The Werewolf's Tale
My name is _____ and I am a recovering smoker. And
meat-eater. And part-time alcoholic.
And werewolf.
Nobody really understands me, except you guys, of course. People complain about the
moon affecting their friends’ attitudes (especially, *cough*, the ladies), but honestly, they just have no idea how much
havoc it can cause in your life when one minute you’re a peaceable accountant
working in a bank in the beautiful lower foothills of the Transylvania Mountain
Range and next thing you know – BAM! it’s a few minutes after sundown, and you’ve
become a slavering mindless killing machine who fails to differentiate between
a sheep and your best friend. Ex-best friend.
(Note to Vlad’s mum: I’m so sorry, Mrs. Domburgr. I wish I
knew where I hid the body…)
Where did I go wrong? Sigh. I know admitting I have a
problem is the first step to recovery. I keep a diary to help me be accountable
for my actions. I’ll read you a recent extract. I’m so grateful to have found a
group that doesn’t judge me. You all are so supportive and I will absolutely speak loudly and clearly so you can hear me from all the way over there on
the other side of the room.
Tuesday
06.30. I wake up and have a nutritious breakfast of oats and
fruit (I don’t eat meat. I’m working up to going Vegan; baby
steps), shower, shave (a time-consuming endeavor), and suit-up to start my day
as an income-earning, tax-paying, all-around-contributing member of society.
8.00. I’m almost always the first
one in at the office, which gives me a chance to tidy up my cubicle before getting
down to the exciting experience of following the Transylvania Stock Market.
Yen, Dollars, Yuan, Rubles, and Pounds all get weighed against our common
currency, pure silver. Some of it is made into coins, some into bullets, but I
don’t take offense. I just work my mental abacus (I can add three figured numbers in my head without notes), check the market value, and help keep my nation in the black. It's a grueling job, but I find it to be very rewarding.
10.30 or thereabouts, I excuse myself for a little coffee
break. I don’t smoke anymore, but I still make sure to take my every-two-hour-ten minutes. The union insists. I take my coffee with milk only, since I’ve also recently cut processed sugar out of my diet (once I go vegan, I think the milk will go, too; it's a sacrifice, but the right one). All this clean
living makes my lungs feel lighter, my eyes feel brighter, my claws seem
sharpe- my nails grow more quickly. (Must really say damn! Deep breath. Keep it together.)
13.00. I hold down the fort during the lunch hour and head out when the
rest of the office comes back from lunch. I admit, I make them a little anxious,
what with all my overly-cautious questioning of the waiters at the local
Hoffbrau as to whether or not they use organic wheat in their basil, tomato,
and mozzarella ciabatta paninis. But hey – I’m committed to my lifestyle. All the
coworkers shifting uncomfortably around the pub table, they can just untwist
their knickers and get on with their lives. I don’t judge them when they order fatty sausage links and support
their alcoholism with their lunchtime pints, although now and then I drop a kind and subtle reminder that their cholesterol levels are skyrocketing, but that's the kind of friend I am. I care
too much about other people’s health.
16.00. I'm trying to limit my caffeine intake, so during my ten-minute
break in the afternoon, instead of popping into the nearby café for an espresso
and biscotti, I go for a quick sprint around the building. Take off the
loafers, put on the trainers and away we go. It shocks a lot of people, I know.
They think I live my life chained to a regime that keeps me repressed and
discouraged, obsessed with milestones and benchmarks. Haters gonna hate, so I just remind myself that I’m the one who’s living free. They’re the ones suffering
under their couch-potato lifestyles. I’m going to have to go quickly, though.
The winter sun is fading and it’s getting dark outside.
Wednesday
04.00. I am just exhausted. And covered in blood. Mine? No, not mine. Too full of iron – a meat eater. Well, shit. (Note to self -
no need to swear. We can control that impulse.) Did I forget something? I
vaguely recall chasing something down the street when I’m pretty sure I should
have been returning to the office. Crap. (That’s better.) What was I chasing?
Another jogging enthusiast? Hm, I think not. The dim ringing of terrified screams
in my subconscious sounds slightly familiar. Well, let’s look.
Remaining evidence: fancy watch, leather shoes, little arch support (definitely
not a jogger), a cell-phone? Last call – 090-5438-9… That’s my number. Checking
my phone. Vlad called me; my best friend since University, yikes.
04.30. I never remember everything that happens during those
moments. It’s like being extremely drunk (not that I would know) or high (I
read that in a book), or maybe in the hospital after being hit by a car (three
years ago –chased down on the Transylvania-Transnational Expressway; apparently
I was after a bus of orphans returning from a school trip to an observatory).
All I can say is I’m sorry, Vlad. Sorry you didn’t know better than to run like
hell (must really work on not swearing)
in the opposite direction when you saw that moon come up. That’s enough
introspection for today. Will share thoughts with support group tomorrow. Must go to bed soon. Up again tomorrow at 06.30, with bright new attitude and resolve as we’ll have to start the vegetarian thing over from the beginning.
The End
2012 M P
Farray
2012/11/03
A Splash of Autumn
Went up to Monet Garden today. I've now been here in Fall, Winter, and Spring. I haven't made it during the summer. It's just too darn hot.
2012/10/25
I'm So Open-Minded I Won't Consider Your Opinion
I have an acquaintance whom I would like to punch in the face.
Not really, of course, because I don't want to go to jail for battery or assault or for whatever they would charge me, even if it was a long time coming and the only rational response to the monologue.
And not because I want to cause them pain, because I don't want to, nor cause myself pain, which would be another inevitable outcome since, let's face it, I've hit myself with my drumsticks and it hurts. I could never imagine inflicting that sort of pain on another human being and I don't know how anyone brings herself to take up boxing.
With all that said, however, these days no one seems to stop and think.. I have had many a conversation with different people who have all breathlessly jumped on what I was saying, sometimes in the middle of my saying it, not because they had a response to the content of my dialogue, but because they simply could not wait to blurt out whatever they had been thinking of the entire time I was speaking. Everyone seems to have an opinion, but no one seems to have any thought behind it and even more rarely any facts at the very base of it. People just seem to be regurgitating the same things they always said in every conversation before this one without any regard for the topic or the twists and turns of the dialogue at hand. It is extraordinary the number of "intelligent" and "educated" people out there who have never been taught to listen.
Nor yet have they been taught to ask questions.
I feel like I am holding down the question boat all by myself. A neighbor told me she loved a
movie, a quasi-documentary (or maybe a full-on documentary, I never found out), she had seen and when I asked her why, she was a bit floored. This is a highly intelligent individual with a retentive memory who constantly makes herself the center of the conversation circuit (for better or worse), but synthesizing her data was an arduous task. I am a very patient person; I asked some leading questions and she got some facts together, but her concluding statement was still, "I just really liked it, you know?" and that's why it was a life-changing film. She did not ask me any questions about anything, not about similar movies, not about my opinion, absolutely nothing. You can imagine the conversations we have in general.
There are times and places for speechlessness: sunsets, beaches, coral reef diving, and maybe Stonehenge during the Summer Solstice, but if you are going to tell me that something truly changed your life, I hope you have a way to express it to me. Because if it was so important that your entire outlook and behavior were modified, don't you think it would be a good thing to share with someone else? And if you're not asking yourself what changed in your behavior, maybe, just maybe nothing really changed. Maybe you're employing hyperbole. In which case, stop it right now and learn how to speak like an adult. Everything is not "super-cool and awesome." You are cheapening your experience, my time, and the English language.
These days, my "conversations" with other English speakers would really be more aptly described as "individual rants". These days, the only people who know how to give, take, and consider are my adult English conversation students and that is because they are working with a second language, so they HAVE to stop and think about what is being said. What a round-about way to have a fulfilling exchange of ideas. I don't like empty argument or endless debate over things that don't matter and cannot be influenced by the conversing parties (if you can't vote in my country, do not tell me who I should vote for; and politics in your country are boring because people in your country seem to be pretty boring, I am sorry to tell you).
Or you could save yourself one thousand words and just use a picture. A picture of someone getting punched in the face.
Not really, of course, because I don't want to go to jail for battery or assault or for whatever they would charge me, even if it was a long time coming and the only rational response to the monologue.
And not because I want to cause them pain, because I don't want to, nor cause myself pain, which would be another inevitable outcome since, let's face it, I've hit myself with my drumsticks and it hurts. I could never imagine inflicting that sort of pain on another human being and I don't know how anyone brings herself to take up boxing.
With all that said, however, these days no one seems to stop and think.. I have had many a conversation with different people who have all breathlessly jumped on what I was saying, sometimes in the middle of my saying it, not because they had a response to the content of my dialogue, but because they simply could not wait to blurt out whatever they had been thinking of the entire time I was speaking. Everyone seems to have an opinion, but no one seems to have any thought behind it and even more rarely any facts at the very base of it. People just seem to be regurgitating the same things they always said in every conversation before this one without any regard for the topic or the twists and turns of the dialogue at hand. It is extraordinary the number of "intelligent" and "educated" people out there who have never been taught to listen.
Nor yet have they been taught to ask questions.
I feel like I am holding down the question boat all by myself. A neighbor told me she loved a
movie, a quasi-documentary (or maybe a full-on documentary, I never found out), she had seen and when I asked her why, she was a bit floored. This is a highly intelligent individual with a retentive memory who constantly makes herself the center of the conversation circuit (for better or worse), but synthesizing her data was an arduous task. I am a very patient person; I asked some leading questions and she got some facts together, but her concluding statement was still, "I just really liked it, you know?" and that's why it was a life-changing film. She did not ask me any questions about anything, not about similar movies, not about my opinion, absolutely nothing. You can imagine the conversations we have in general.
There are times and places for speechlessness: sunsets, beaches, coral reef diving, and maybe Stonehenge during the Summer Solstice, but if you are going to tell me that something truly changed your life, I hope you have a way to express it to me. Because if it was so important that your entire outlook and behavior were modified, don't you think it would be a good thing to share with someone else? And if you're not asking yourself what changed in your behavior, maybe, just maybe nothing really changed. Maybe you're employing hyperbole. In which case, stop it right now and learn how to speak like an adult. Everything is not "super-cool and awesome." You are cheapening your experience, my time, and the English language.
These days, my "conversations" with other English speakers would really be more aptly described as "individual rants". These days, the only people who know how to give, take, and consider are my adult English conversation students and that is because they are working with a second language, so they HAVE to stop and think about what is being said. What a round-about way to have a fulfilling exchange of ideas. I don't like empty argument or endless debate over things that don't matter and cannot be influenced by the conversing parties (if you can't vote in my country, do not tell me who I should vote for; and politics in your country are boring because people in your country seem to be pretty boring, I am sorry to tell you).
Or you could save yourself one thousand words and just use a picture. A picture of someone getting punched in the face.
2012/10/18
It's Time to Get Tough
I adore my sixth-graders. For the most part, I look on them as very young friends more than my students. I participate in their club activities, I hang out with them when I meet them at the baseball field or running around town, they're just a very good collection of kids and mostly I love them.
I loved them last year when Miyu asked me who is my favorite character in One Piece and then gave me a Sanji bookmark. I loved them when Rhyusei ran up and sat next to me during break time basketball, brilliant smile on his skinny face and excitedly waving as though he hadn't seen me in years even though he sat next to me at lunch. There are a few less than brilliant specimens, but they are not rotten apples, at least not to the core. Maybe a bit mealy and one or two worms have possessed them, at the very most.
Today, however, we had a frank exchange of expectations.
Last year, when I showed up at Tokyo Orientation, one of the things the powers that were stressed most emphatically was that ALTs (assistant language teachers) do not enforce discipline in the classroom. It is the responsibility of the homeroom teacher to keep the kids in line. I agree wholeheartedly with this concept. I am a foreigner and I don't speak fluent enough Japanese to make an impression on the kids, especially when they are misbehaving. (Recently, they take it as a matter of course that I can speak a great deal of Japanese, but seem to think I choose not to. I honor them for their lack of discernment on this issue.) I also think it's important that the kids' interaction with a foreigner be as positive as humanly possible. Most of these kids will never meet another foreigner, outside of the JET program, and it follows that the foreigner should not be someone who smacks them upside of the head in anger at their misbehaving (my fifth-grade teacher has done that to students, but I love him and they love him and they always say, "I deserved that" so apparently it's okay.)
There have been instances, especially at JR High, where I have desperately wanted to bring out the mighty hammer of righteous wrath, but I haven't been permitted to do this. I have never wanted to pull out the big guns on Kohei, Namiki, Kouki, Miku, and Riku until today.
The homeroom teacher went on vacation for the last half of the school day (she's also out tomorrow, smart lady) and it was me and an assistant who mostly sits silently during English class, sometimes jumping into games if we have an uneven team. The kids were a bit rowdy, but I put it off on the rain that's been falling since early this morning, making outdoor exercise all but impossible and disallowing any expenditure of excess energy. So I let it go, because 90% of the time, they reign themselves in.
Not today.
Today, they experimented with rambunctiousness, my good kids started distracting other students, and my bad students started being insolent. They mostly ignored me.
Until the hammer descended.
I think I slammed a stack of flashcards on the desk. This encouraged most of them to look up, since I do not ever act like this. Then I turned to them and made two very brief and solemn as an execution comments:
"You all need to get it together right now. I am not going to say this again."
There was another teacher in the classroom who could have translated for me, but I was praying against it. I stood at the front, waiting, individually calling out kids who were still acting up. When they all go the hint (which didn't take very long, surprisingly), I went back to the class with as sober a demeanor as I possibly could hold.
There were no more disruptions. And two of them apologized at the end of class.
They are a great class. Most of them interact with me regularly and positively outside of class. I don't think a little respect in the classroom is too much to require. I am the teacher after all.
I loved them last year when Miyu asked me who is my favorite character in One Piece and then gave me a Sanji bookmark. I loved them when Rhyusei ran up and sat next to me during break time basketball, brilliant smile on his skinny face and excitedly waving as though he hadn't seen me in years even though he sat next to me at lunch. There are a few less than brilliant specimens, but they are not rotten apples, at least not to the core. Maybe a bit mealy and one or two worms have possessed them, at the very most.
Today, however, we had a frank exchange of expectations.
Last year, when I showed up at Tokyo Orientation, one of the things the powers that were stressed most emphatically was that ALTs (assistant language teachers) do not enforce discipline in the classroom. It is the responsibility of the homeroom teacher to keep the kids in line. I agree wholeheartedly with this concept. I am a foreigner and I don't speak fluent enough Japanese to make an impression on the kids, especially when they are misbehaving. (Recently, they take it as a matter of course that I can speak a great deal of Japanese, but seem to think I choose not to. I honor them for their lack of discernment on this issue.) I also think it's important that the kids' interaction with a foreigner be as positive as humanly possible. Most of these kids will never meet another foreigner, outside of the JET program, and it follows that the foreigner should not be someone who smacks them upside of the head in anger at their misbehaving (my fifth-grade teacher has done that to students, but I love him and they love him and they always say, "I deserved that" so apparently it's okay.)
There have been instances, especially at JR High, where I have desperately wanted to bring out the mighty hammer of righteous wrath, but I haven't been permitted to do this. I have never wanted to pull out the big guns on Kohei, Namiki, Kouki, Miku, and Riku until today.
The homeroom teacher went on vacation for the last half of the school day (she's also out tomorrow, smart lady) and it was me and an assistant who mostly sits silently during English class, sometimes jumping into games if we have an uneven team. The kids were a bit rowdy, but I put it off on the rain that's been falling since early this morning, making outdoor exercise all but impossible and disallowing any expenditure of excess energy. So I let it go, because 90% of the time, they reign themselves in.
Not today.
Today, they experimented with rambunctiousness, my good kids started distracting other students, and my bad students started being insolent. They mostly ignored me.
Until the hammer descended.
I think I slammed a stack of flashcards on the desk. This encouraged most of them to look up, since I do not ever act like this. Then I turned to them and made two very brief and solemn as an execution comments:
"You all need to get it together right now. I am not going to say this again."
There was another teacher in the classroom who could have translated for me, but I was praying against it. I stood at the front, waiting, individually calling out kids who were still acting up. When they all go the hint (which didn't take very long, surprisingly), I went back to the class with as sober a demeanor as I possibly could hold.
There were no more disruptions. And two of them apologized at the end of class.
They are a great class. Most of them interact with me regularly and positively outside of class. I don't think a little respect in the classroom is too much to require. I am the teacher after all.
2012/10/10
Gaijin Be Gone!
It's like a spray that comes in a little can.
Those who know me will tell you that I am not very flexible, but I can pat my own back, when it really needs to be done.
So I'm going to take a moment to brag.
I joined a community taiko (太鼓) group last year in August. I attended club meetings about twice a week, every week for the best part of the year. If I missed it was because of inclement weather, I was traveling, or my ride or I had a work party we simply had to attend. We also went to the vast majority of the concerts and played almost every song, so we had quite a lot of practice. Not years upon years of experience, but enough to not completely embarrass ourselves at each event.
Last year there were three gaikokujin (外国人) (foreigners) who participated.
This year we have four newbies and me. Gonin gaijin. (五人外人.)
We have a concert on Saturday (in Aki Shi (安芸市), if you are in the neighborhood! we play at the city office at 10.30 AM), and today we had a pre-dress-rehearsal-rehearsal, where the sensei (先生) explained where we would each be for each song and what drums would need to be moved around. They settled important dilemmas like: should we take our bachi (撥)with us or should we leave them at our station for the next player to use? and Who plays the shime (しめ) during wuijin (ういじん)? Because it ain't me.
All of us whiteys (ワイーチス)(and one Chinese-Canadian) played the first number and then the teacher explained that due to our short rehearsal time this year, only the repeat members would play the next two songs and the newbies would please be so kind as to help arrange the stage. Pretty standard procedure for performance practice. Novices through sempai (先輩), there's a pecking order of sorts.
What made me secretly pleased was not that I was expected to play all the songs, but that the sensei several times referred to what the gaijin would do and what the rest of us would do, and for once, I was in the rest of us.
It sounds silly, because of course, I'm a foreigner too, and that is the only way any Japanese person will refer to me, no matter how close we become as friends. You're not an American, you're not a Canadian, a Congolese, or a Haitian; you're an outsider. There are only two countries, Japan and Not Japan, but for one rehearsal, at least, I was admitted into a kind of inner circle, reserved for people who had been there before. I am not the kind of person who insinuates herself into a clique, nor am I the sort who ever feels (EVER) like I am on the inside of anything, so it meant a lot to be grouped with the experienced players, the reliable performers, the sempai.
It made up for the fact that this morning a whole gaggle of school kids walked down the other side of the street pointing and shouting "Gaijin! Gaijin!" at me as though I am the stranger, even though I live here and they live in a different town. I tried to smile and wave, but mostly I just wanted to point and shout "日本人! Nihonjin!" back at them. Sigh.
Our concert is on Saturday. Please come. It will be outside and there is no admission fee.
Yo-oh! よーお！
Those who know me will tell you that I am not very flexible, but I can pat my own back, when it really needs to be done.
So I'm going to take a moment to brag.
I joined a community taiko (太鼓) group last year in August. I attended club meetings about twice a week, every week for the best part of the year. If I missed it was because of inclement weather, I was traveling, or my ride or I had a work party we simply had to attend. We also went to the vast majority of the concerts and played almost every song, so we had quite a lot of practice. Not years upon years of experience, but enough to not completely embarrass ourselves at each event.
Last year there were three gaikokujin (外国人) (foreigners) who participated.
This year we have four newbies and me. Gonin gaijin. (五人外人.)
We have a concert on Saturday (in Aki Shi (安芸市), if you are in the neighborhood! we play at the city office at 10.30 AM), and today we had a pre-dress-rehearsal-rehearsal, where the sensei (先生) explained where we would each be for each song and what drums would need to be moved around. They settled important dilemmas like: should we take our bachi (撥)with us or should we leave them at our station for the next player to use? and Who plays the shime (しめ) during wuijin (ういじん)? Because it ain't me.
All of us whiteys (ワイーチス)(and one Chinese-Canadian) played the first number and then the teacher explained that due to our short rehearsal time this year, only the repeat members would play the next two songs and the newbies would please be so kind as to help arrange the stage. Pretty standard procedure for performance practice. Novices through sempai (先輩), there's a pecking order of sorts.
What made me secretly pleased was not that I was expected to play all the songs, but that the sensei several times referred to what the gaijin would do and what the rest of us would do, and for once, I was in the rest of us.
It sounds silly, because of course, I'm a foreigner too, and that is the only way any Japanese person will refer to me, no matter how close we become as friends. You're not an American, you're not a Canadian, a Congolese, or a Haitian; you're an outsider. There are only two countries, Japan and Not Japan, but for one rehearsal, at least, I was admitted into a kind of inner circle, reserved for people who had been there before. I am not the kind of person who insinuates herself into a clique, nor am I the sort who ever feels (EVER) like I am on the inside of anything, so it meant a lot to be grouped with the experienced players, the reliable performers, the sempai.
It made up for the fact that this morning a whole gaggle of school kids walked down the other side of the street pointing and shouting "Gaijin! Gaijin!" at me as though I am the stranger, even though I live here and they live in a different town. I tried to smile and wave, but mostly I just wanted to point and shout "日本人! Nihonjin!" back at them. Sigh.
Our concert is on Saturday. Please come. It will be outside and there is no admission fee.
Yo-oh! よーお！
2012/10/08
Lonely, Courageous, Free, Single
My Ladies' English Conversation Class and Dinner Club asked today why I haven't gotten married yet.
This is my beginners' class, the ones with mad cooking skills and limited English ability. We get together twice a month, where they provide fabulous Japanese home-cooked meals, they chat in Japanese for about forty minutes, then we work on English skills for another forty-five and they spend the last twenty minutes of class comparing notes and distributing cooking orders for the next class.
Our English isn't improving, but my experience with Japanese cuisine is broadening daily and I get some curious insights into Japanese culture.
For instance, of our six under-fifty-looking-but-over-sixty-really students, one is widowed and the other five are still married to their first husbands (I think).
My acquaintances seem neatly split between those who enjoy being married, those who don't mind it, and those who are living their lives much more fully now that their husbands are dead.
Take for example, Ikeuchi-san who moved to Kochi from Kansai (Osaka/Kyoto/Kobe) area and told me when she first got here, "I cried every day. I missed home so much." But when I ask if she is happy, she says, "Oh, yes. We do everything together. I am very happy."
Making the statement for opposing counsel is one of my Japanese teachers who taught us all that the common word for wife "Oku-san" means "Mrs. Inside" (my colloquial interpretation).
"I am sotto-sama," she smiles broadly. Queen Outside. She spends the whole day driving from one end of the prefecture to the other, volunteering to guide foreign tour groups, participating in local committees, and studying to become a professional expositor of geographic anomaly at Muroto Geopark. When I asked her why she got married, she murmured obliquely, "saaa, you know, it's what you're supposed to do." Marriage is the only respectable option for young educated women of good family.
Many of the difficulties that confront married couples in Japan are tied to work. Because the Japanese mentality is closely linked to the community and the insulated world of loyalty to the company, work often becomes more important than family life. While I often see fathers or mothers running around with their kids in their free time, I very rarely see the whole family out together (at least around here). But as far as perspectives from women go, I rate a happy marriage on how much time the couple seems to spend in each other's company, without the kids.
And a happy widowhood is even easier to figure out.
Every time I walk into Matsumura-sensei's house, I get the feeling that this lady loves living alone. She can run around without dressing up, she can drink beer at dinner, she can have her friends over whenever she wants, and she can travel the world. During our conversation, she laughed and said, "yes, many of my neighbors are sympathetic and worry about me, but I am so happy by myself."
And Miko-san is a prime example of that lady from Oscar Wilde's The Importance of Being Earnest: you know, the widow whose hair turned gold from grief. For the last ten years, that lady has been carrying on a joyful, active existence, doing two hundred sit-ups a day and building her own karaoke room into the front of her house. She spends her days looking up new song lyrics and grooving to the enka-oldies.
On the other hand, Arisawa-san continues to put small offerings of every gift she receives in front of the shrine built to her late husband. (This is not something I have observed in Miko-san's or Matsumura-sensei's homes...)
For a different perspective, at a recent faculty wedding party, I asked a male teacher if he was happily married (because he asked when I was getting married - I never start this shit). He was taken aback and thought about it, but in the end said, albeit shakily, "Yes. Yes, I am."
It still seems odd to me that regardless of personal experience or present contentment, the inclination in the mind of every one (Japanese or Western and women in particular) is it is better to be married.
When I explained that I enjoyed living abroad, I didn't know where I might go next, and I would rather wait for the right man than hurry into a relationship with the wrong one, Matsumura-sensei encouraged me, "Well, I think you are very brave. And you are so happy here, it's better that you haven't married."
"Oh, yes!" the rest of the class chimed in. "So happy here, and you're learning so much, and you have so much freedom! You must enjoy your life!"
They then proceeded to make a list of every single man they knew in the immediate area.
This is my beginners' class, the ones with mad cooking skills and limited English ability. We get together twice a month, where they provide fabulous Japanese home-cooked meals, they chat in Japanese for about forty minutes, then we work on English skills for another forty-five and they spend the last twenty minutes of class comparing notes and distributing cooking orders for the next class.
Our English isn't improving, but my experience with Japanese cuisine is broadening daily and I get some curious insights into Japanese culture.
For instance, of our six under-fifty-looking-but-over-sixty-really students, one is widowed and the other five are still married to their first husbands (I think).
My acquaintances seem neatly split between those who enjoy being married, those who don't mind it, and those who are living their lives much more fully now that their husbands are dead.
Take for example, Ikeuchi-san who moved to Kochi from Kansai (Osaka/Kyoto/Kobe) area and told me when she first got here, "I cried every day. I missed home so much." But when I ask if she is happy, she says, "Oh, yes. We do everything together. I am very happy."
Making the statement for opposing counsel is one of my Japanese teachers who taught us all that the common word for wife "Oku-san" means "Mrs. Inside" (my colloquial interpretation).
"I am sotto-sama," she smiles broadly. Queen Outside. She spends the whole day driving from one end of the prefecture to the other, volunteering to guide foreign tour groups, participating in local committees, and studying to become a professional expositor of geographic anomaly at Muroto Geopark. When I asked her why she got married, she murmured obliquely, "saaa, you know, it's what you're supposed to do." Marriage is the only respectable option for young educated women of good family.
Many of the difficulties that confront married couples in Japan are tied to work. Because the Japanese mentality is closely linked to the community and the insulated world of loyalty to the company, work often becomes more important than family life. While I often see fathers or mothers running around with their kids in their free time, I very rarely see the whole family out together (at least around here). But as far as perspectives from women go, I rate a happy marriage on how much time the couple seems to spend in each other's company, without the kids.
And a happy widowhood is even easier to figure out.
Every time I walk into Matsumura-sensei's house, I get the feeling that this lady loves living alone. She can run around without dressing up, she can drink beer at dinner, she can have her friends over whenever she wants, and she can travel the world. During our conversation, she laughed and said, "yes, many of my neighbors are sympathetic and worry about me, but I am so happy by myself."
And Miko-san is a prime example of that lady from Oscar Wilde's The Importance of Being Earnest: you know, the widow whose hair turned gold from grief. For the last ten years, that lady has been carrying on a joyful, active existence, doing two hundred sit-ups a day and building her own karaoke room into the front of her house. She spends her days looking up new song lyrics and grooving to the enka-oldies.
On the other hand, Arisawa-san continues to put small offerings of every gift she receives in front of the shrine built to her late husband. (This is not something I have observed in Miko-san's or Matsumura-sensei's homes...)
For a different perspective, at a recent faculty wedding party, I asked a male teacher if he was happily married (because he asked when I was getting married - I never start this shit). He was taken aback and thought about it, but in the end said, albeit shakily, "Yes. Yes, I am."
It still seems odd to me that regardless of personal experience or present contentment, the inclination in the mind of every one (Japanese or Western and women in particular) is it is better to be married.
When I explained that I enjoyed living abroad, I didn't know where I might go next, and I would rather wait for the right man than hurry into a relationship with the wrong one, Matsumura-sensei encouraged me, "Well, I think you are very brave. And you are so happy here, it's better that you haven't married."
"Oh, yes!" the rest of the class chimed in. "So happy here, and you're learning so much, and you have so much freedom! You must enjoy your life!"
They then proceeded to make a list of every single man they knew in the immediate area.
2012/10/06
Eto ne...
When making a speech in English, professional speech coaches tell their clients, "don't say 'um'". And they are right. It fills audio space, but it's a horrible little syllable made up of two the most banal letters in the alphabet. "Um" is a little groan, produced by the vocal chords in stressful situations when the brain is still loading.
In Japanese, the common place-holder is "eto, ne" which takes up two more syllables than does "um" and includes the middle syllable "toe" which acts as a pivot around the melodious "eh" bookends. I vote we adopt it in place of "um".
In Tosa-ben, the regional dialect of Kochi Prefecture, they have another syllable which is also frequently used by everyone and seems to be rather favored by my students, particularly my 6th graders who are just on the edge of adult conversations rather than kid dialogues: "sa". "Sa" (pronounced "saaaaaaaaaaah" or "saaah", but hardly ever "sah") fills the air during school lunch and break times when students embark on meaningful conversations about schoolwork, the kid with food allergies, or annoying classmates.
There are a variety of other conversation fillers you can use if you're not hyaku percent sure what is being discussed. Their effective utilization is dependent on your vocal inflection, but even if you are only giri-giri and non-committal on tone, you can generally get away with not understanding everything and sounding like you are following part of the conversation. A few of the most useful of these are:
"Hounto ni" - really? Really? For real? Are you sure? Wow. I can't believe it. I see.
"Sou desu ne" - That's about the size of it. Hmm, you're right. I should have thought about that myself... I see.
"Sou desu ka?" - Really? I. Never. Knew. How about that? Is that right? Whoa. Shut the front door. I see.
"Naruhodo" - I see. I see. I see. I see. I see.
(When you read an English textbook from a Japanese school, you might often find "I see" in sample English dialogues. The teacher will then ask me if this is "natural English" and when I reply that I rarely use that phrase and it sounds translated, she assumes this is because I don't really understand English and don't have much call to use it at home. Sometimes it seems like Japanese people think English speakers get by with body language and grunting...)
So if you happen to find yourself walking through the rice paddies and an obaachan stops to fill you in on the weather, just throw out a few of those useful nuggets of colloquial chat. Even if you have no idea what she's talking about. It will impress her no end.
And if you can't remember those, just go back to "um".
In Japanese, the common place-holder is "eto, ne" which takes up two more syllables than does "um" and includes the middle syllable "toe" which acts as a pivot around the melodious "eh" bookends. I vote we adopt it in place of "um".
In Tosa-ben, the regional dialect of Kochi Prefecture, they have another syllable which is also frequently used by everyone and seems to be rather favored by my students, particularly my 6th graders who are just on the edge of adult conversations rather than kid dialogues: "sa". "Sa" (pronounced "saaaaaaaaaaah" or "saaah", but hardly ever "sah") fills the air during school lunch and break times when students embark on meaningful conversations about schoolwork, the kid with food allergies, or annoying classmates.
There are a variety of other conversation fillers you can use if you're not hyaku percent sure what is being discussed. Their effective utilization is dependent on your vocal inflection, but even if you are only giri-giri and non-committal on tone, you can generally get away with not understanding everything and sounding like you are following part of the conversation. A few of the most useful of these are:
"Hounto ni" - really? Really? For real? Are you sure? Wow. I can't believe it. I see.
"Sou desu ne" - That's about the size of it. Hmm, you're right. I should have thought about that myself... I see.
"Sou desu ka?" - Really? I. Never. Knew. How about that? Is that right? Whoa. Shut the front door. I see.
"Naruhodo" - I see. I see. I see. I see. I see.
(When you read an English textbook from a Japanese school, you might often find "I see" in sample English dialogues. The teacher will then ask me if this is "natural English" and when I reply that I rarely use that phrase and it sounds translated, she assumes this is because I don't really understand English and don't have much call to use it at home. Sometimes it seems like Japanese people think English speakers get by with body language and grunting...)
So if you happen to find yourself walking through the rice paddies and an obaachan stops to fill you in on the weather, just throw out a few of those useful nuggets of colloquial chat. Even if you have no idea what she's talking about. It will impress her no end.
And if you can't remember those, just go back to "um".
2012/09/24
Here's the Thing
But not the pictures.
It recently occurred to me that I can blog without posting pictures. This makes for a much less colorful post with many fewer opportunities for visual humor, but I can still fill you in on the extremely important minutiae of my everyday life here in the middle of nowhere (hereafter referred to as "inaka"). Brace yourselves, it's shockingly dull.
In spite of our lack of nightclubs, bars, brothels, and shopping malls, my life here is surprisingly unpredictable. This is mostly due to the extremely changeable weather in Kochi prefecture, and especially on the east side of the ken, where the mountains march right up to the shoreline and the Muroto peninsula mutates the sky and air around us to a frightful degree. You can be going through your whole morning thinking what a lovely day it's going to be and by lunchtime you are swimming your way back to the apartment through a never-ending stream of grey rain. A typhoon might happen at any moment. And that predicted typhoon, the one you've been carefully following on its way up from Okinawa, might skip you completely and dash on to hammer Korea while you carefully put your poncho back in your locker and pretend you didn't bring it with you to school.
Forget about doing your hair. You can't win. If the rain-forest-ish humidity of the weekend didn't murder it, the desert-aridity of the following week will. Think you dressed wisely, preparing for a cool day of moderate rainfall? Think again - today's forecast is overcast with a dash of spontaneous face-melting-30-degrees-celsius breezes. And you were totally psyched about practicing for sports day? Good luck. The field, which was parched and bone-dry two minutes ago is now a sunken muddy paste.
This year, the elementary school (shougakkou) and the junior high (chugakkou) [spell-check keeps red-under-lining those words and I keep thinking, "I'm pretty sure I'm spelling them right". Then I remember, those aren't English] combined their sports days this year, mainly because the JR High has only 48 students this year, and let's face it, no one was going to show up to watch. Putting the two schools together means we have now a complement of almost 200 students, 40 teachers, and various moms-and-pops running around the field at any given moment.
The weather here is so unreliable that this past week a little schedule found its way to my desk:
Official Sports Day is Sunday (9/23)
Practice on Thursday, all day, class on Friday, practice on Saturday (if rain, substitute class)
In case of rain on Thursday: practice on Friday, class on Saturday, Sports Day Sunday
In case of rain on Friday: class on Friday, class on Saturday, Sports Day Sunday
In case of rain on Saturday: class on Saturday, no class on Sunday, Sports Day Monday, vacation day-in-lieu of Saturday on Tuesday
In case of rain on Sunday: class on Monday (or practice if weather permits), Sports Day on Tuesday, vacation in-lieu of weekend on Wednesday
In case of rain on Tuesday: class on Tuesday, Sports Day practice on Wednesday, Sports Day on Thursday, no class on Friday
In case of rain on Thursday: move Sports day to Friday (9/28)
If rain on Friday: cancel Sports Day
We went to practice on Thursday and everything was just grand. The weather was beautiful (it is unseasonably cool for late September, especially following our very mild early summer, by which everyone predicted a long and hot summer, extending into November), practice went off without a hitch, and I pretended to be a sixth-grader and ran a portion of the relay race to the great delight and astonishment of my students, but unfortunately to no great success for our team. In our defense, we started off with the midget first-grader and our second-to-last was the anorexic-ish-ly-skinny Jr Higher who hasn't enough muscles in his whole body to move his legs quickly enough to get him around the track at reasonably speed.
Saturday was beautiful and according to the schedule, I went to practice on the school ground at the Jr High. To my surprise, I discovered no one was there, so I wandered over to the elementary school to play with kids for the rest of the day and collect my bento lunch. I only really clearly understand one transaction every day, and that is the lunch service. When I asked people to clarify the schedule for me "You mean, we don't have class on Saturday, just practice, would I like to order a bento box?" they must have really meant, "We don't have practice on Saturday, just class, would you like to order a bento box?"
I never make mistakes about the bento box.
Saturday was fun, but it rained Saturday night. In this event, we found an entirely new set of subsitute instructions waiting for us:
In case of rain on Sunday: class on Sunday, vacation day-in-lieu of Saturday on Monday, Sports Day on Tuesday, vacation day-in-lieu of Sunday on Wednesday, class on Thursday and Friday.
Since Japanese teachers don't like to use email, I have no idea how they got the word out to teachers who come from almost every corner of the prefecture. I had to ask the librarian to make sure to text me whenever she got word of what was going on.
So the long and the short of it is, we still haven't had sports day and I took Monday off, damn it. Vacation in-lieu of comprehension.
It recently occurred to me that I can blog without posting pictures. This makes for a much less colorful post with many fewer opportunities for visual humor, but I can still fill you in on the extremely important minutiae of my everyday life here in the middle of nowhere (hereafter referred to as "inaka"). Brace yourselves, it's shockingly dull.
In spite of our lack of nightclubs, bars, brothels, and shopping malls, my life here is surprisingly unpredictable. This is mostly due to the extremely changeable weather in Kochi prefecture, and especially on the east side of the ken, where the mountains march right up to the shoreline and the Muroto peninsula mutates the sky and air around us to a frightful degree. You can be going through your whole morning thinking what a lovely day it's going to be and by lunchtime you are swimming your way back to the apartment through a never-ending stream of grey rain. A typhoon might happen at any moment. And that predicted typhoon, the one you've been carefully following on its way up from Okinawa, might skip you completely and dash on to hammer Korea while you carefully put your poncho back in your locker and pretend you didn't bring it with you to school.
Forget about doing your hair. You can't win. If the rain-forest-ish humidity of the weekend didn't murder it, the desert-aridity of the following week will. Think you dressed wisely, preparing for a cool day of moderate rainfall? Think again - today's forecast is overcast with a dash of spontaneous face-melting-30-degrees-celsius breezes. And you were totally psyched about practicing for sports day? Good luck. The field, which was parched and bone-dry two minutes ago is now a sunken muddy paste.
This year, the elementary school (shougakkou) and the junior high (chugakkou) [spell-check keeps red-under-lining those words and I keep thinking, "I'm pretty sure I'm spelling them right". Then I remember, those aren't English] combined their sports days this year, mainly because the JR High has only 48 students this year, and let's face it, no one was going to show up to watch. Putting the two schools together means we have now a complement of almost 200 students, 40 teachers, and various moms-and-pops running around the field at any given moment.
The weather here is so unreliable that this past week a little schedule found its way to my desk:
Official Sports Day is Sunday (9/23)
Practice on Thursday, all day, class on Friday, practice on Saturday (if rain, substitute class)
In case of rain on Thursday: practice on Friday, class on Saturday, Sports Day Sunday
In case of rain on Friday: class on Friday, class on Saturday, Sports Day Sunday
In case of rain on Saturday: class on Saturday, no class on Sunday, Sports Day Monday, vacation day-in-lieu of Saturday on Tuesday
In case of rain on Sunday: class on Monday (or practice if weather permits), Sports Day on Tuesday, vacation in-lieu of weekend on Wednesday
In case of rain on Tuesday: class on Tuesday, Sports Day practice on Wednesday, Sports Day on Thursday, no class on Friday
In case of rain on Thursday: move Sports day to Friday (9/28)
If rain on Friday: cancel Sports Day
We went to practice on Thursday and everything was just grand. The weather was beautiful (it is unseasonably cool for late September, especially following our very mild early summer, by which everyone predicted a long and hot summer, extending into November), practice went off without a hitch, and I pretended to be a sixth-grader and ran a portion of the relay race to the great delight and astonishment of my students, but unfortunately to no great success for our team. In our defense, we started off with the midget first-grader and our second-to-last was the anorexic-ish-ly-skinny Jr Higher who hasn't enough muscles in his whole body to move his legs quickly enough to get him around the track at reasonably speed.
Saturday was beautiful and according to the schedule, I went to practice on the school ground at the Jr High. To my surprise, I discovered no one was there, so I wandered over to the elementary school to play with kids for the rest of the day and collect my bento lunch. I only really clearly understand one transaction every day, and that is the lunch service. When I asked people to clarify the schedule for me "You mean, we don't have class on Saturday, just practice, would I like to order a bento box?" they must have really meant, "We don't have practice on Saturday, just class, would you like to order a bento box?"
I never make mistakes about the bento box.
Saturday was fun, but it rained Saturday night. In this event, we found an entirely new set of subsitute instructions waiting for us:
In case of rain on Sunday: class on Sunday, vacation day-in-lieu of Saturday on Monday, Sports Day on Tuesday, vacation day-in-lieu of Sunday on Wednesday, class on Thursday and Friday.
Since Japanese teachers don't like to use email, I have no idea how they got the word out to teachers who come from almost every corner of the prefecture. I had to ask the librarian to make sure to text me whenever she got word of what was going on.
So the long and the short of it is, we still haven't had sports day and I took Monday off, damn it. Vacation in-lieu of comprehension.
2012/08/31
Institution of Comparisons
So, I was going to compare Yosakoi to Tokushima ken's Awa-Odori festival, but then Blogger changed the font I was using and I couldn't change it back. So now for something not that completely different.
Tokushima ken is also on the island of Shikoku, but rather more connected to the real world. While Kochi is the last outpost of inaka-Japan, Tokushima is just a regular old prefecture. It's stunningly beautiful, although it lacks Kochi's rugged wilderness, but it has very similar weather (as does much of the island which borders the Pacific Ocean). So during the hot summer months when people in the cities are thinking about how to best honor their dead ancestors by floating a lantern down a river and telling the kids not to swim (lest the kappas drown you), Tokushima people get together in little groups and practice dances. Like Yosakoi, there is an established format that must be adhered to. While Yosakoi dancers are given the song "Yosakoi, Yosakoi" (or whatever it is called) to play and certain elements to include, Awa-Odori dancers are simply told to start their dance in a particular way - after the preliminary routine, which all groups do more-or-less identically, they can launch into something unique and creative.
Yosakoi dancers can wear any costume, I think. Some examples being:
It thought it was a link. I didn't hit the link button except twenty times later to un-link the typing input. Damn thing.
Awa-Odori dancers are required to follow a certain dress standard, including wooden geita for women, straw hats, and funny handkerchiefs. As follows:
The dance is also accompanied quite differently. In Kochi, those little trucks rumble down the boulevard before the dancers. Atop the trucks are singers, microphones, drummers, guitarists, or the karaoke machine that spits out the music at full blast. The sound is deafening, especially in the little enclosed corridors of the covered marketplace down which the dancers march. Awa-Odori is a little different. The dance teams enter a narrow arena and proceed to do their dance. They start at one side, next to the cheap seats, and get all the way to the far side, doing the whole routine somewhere along the way.
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| Gentlemen sit and await the start of their number. |
The sound is also very different. Remember what I said about Yosakoi singing and belting away into a microphone? In Awa-Odori style, there are only four instruments - shamisen, drums, flute, and the human voice. This does not make for a quieter, more serene and nuanced performance, however. So bring your earplugs.
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| Dude, second to left, has a big bell-thing, too. A terribly atrocious clang which only gets more horrid as he continues to ring! |
Both dances involve countless hours of preparation and commitment. You have to design and teach, learn and demonstrate brand new routines each year because people's memories are longer than the dance itself. If you repeat or steal a move, someone is bound to notice. But the atmosphere in both locales is festive and rockin'. There are few better ways to beat the summer heat than to march to a tuneful beat.
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| The festival street in Tokushima. |
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| The main stage performances in Kochi. |
Yosakoi, Yosakoi vs. Tokushima Awa-Odori
Kochi ken has few claims to fame in any guide book, but one of the most oft`mentioned notes of fandom is the annual summer Yosakoi dance festival. Teams from around the prefecture get decked out in a variety of summer kimonos and many-layered costumes, shake their wooden hand-clappers and try to beat the heat by working up a fevered sweaty dance to the age-old tune of Yosakoi.
I asked what "Yosakoi" actually means, but was unable to get a straight answer. It makes them very excited. It must mean, like, free beer, or something.
I asked what "Yosakoi" actually means, but was unable to get a straight answer. It makes them very excited. It must mean, like, free beer, or something.
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| Synchronized dancing, with hand clappers. |
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| You can dress as Edward Elric from Fullmetal Alchemist |
The Yosakoi festival is a set of dance teams who must perform a traditional Yosakoi dance with their own clever additions or changes. They must sing the original Yosakoi song, but they can alter the rhythm, jazz it up, or remix to their hearts' delight. And generally, they must include a truck.
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| That is all ornate wood-working. Wowza.
I do not understand why I am still writing in "caption" font. Dammit, Blogger!
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