I sent an email out to some of my friends, asking them to define me in one word. I don' t usually do the forwarded email thing, but seeing as I'd been feeling a little lost lately, I figured I had the karmic go-ahead for fishing for a little character reassurance. Here are the replies I've gotten so far, in alphabetical order (thanks everybody!):
Ananda (RF)
Audacious (TM)
Brilliant (BCW)
Canadian (MB) (Uh, duhhh. Thanks, Mike!)
Cordate (SC)
Free (AM)
QUIDNUNC (JT) (Yeah, I dunno what it means either...)
Radical! (MM)
Renaissance (AB)
Unique (JM and KD)
For the record, Ananda was a principle disciple of the Buddha, and the guardian of the Dhama; an Audacious person is someone who is unrestrained by convention or proprietry; and Cordate means 'to have a heart-shaped outline'. Again, thanks to those who replied. You kind of put me back on the centre track.
To see what I was doing on tuesday night, check out this address. http://picasaweb.google.com/lairdtravis/DrinkDrinkDanceDance Let's just say, I wanted to go and eat yakitori, but No-o-o-oooo. Neil had already eaten, so I hung out with Neil and Travis and consumed copious amounts of Kirin Lager instead. The dancing began when Jamiroquoi came on-- I cannot sit still when Jamiroquoi is on-- and it progressed into a full-scale three-person dance extravaganza. Nothing else for me to do but dance-- had candy in my heels that night, baby! Neil is my dance partner in the photos-- our dancing was pretty sloppy in part because I have the annoying habit of trying to lead. And if you look at the pictures, you'll see that Neil is not of the leadable size variety.
Culture-wise, all is well. I still get a lesson from Bubu every time I go in to his shop (whether I want one or not), which I do at least once a week. Today I was carefully informed to use a respectful form of the verb 'go' in most of my everyday dealings. However, I don't really know how to use verbs at all, so it was a bit of a confusing lesson! I'm also going on a two-day jaunt to Kurashiki next week, so Bubu and Haruko were making me take notes on where to go and what to see. Kurashiki is on Honshu, close to Okayama-- it's a bit of a cultural centre. It was left completely unravaged by WWII, so there will be lots of old architecture to enjoy. I had planned to go yesterday and today, but it was a spur-of the moment plan (wake up, stuff a backpack, walk to the station and ask "Kurashiki ni ikitai?") and I had missed the bus by the time I got to the station. Undaunted, I bought tickets for next week. Initially, Bubu was horrified: "Who will go with you? No-one?! Unbelievable!" He told me that the city is crawling with yakuza at night-time, and to watch out for any cars with triple-digit licencse plates-- those are the yakuza cars. I don't know what a yakuza would want with me! But seeing as I am keeping my activities strictly daytime-based-- art galleries and what-have-you, I should be safe.
Friday, October 20, 2006
Monday, October 16, 2006
Now that the air-conditioning is officially off in most buildings for the autumn season, the smell of cigarettes has intensified almost unbearably.
I'm homesick like crazy lately. I saw a pile of beautiful apples in the grocery store and burst into tears; I was thinking about Bear's Fruitstand in Keromeos, BC, which by now would be piled high with verdant displays of apples and squashes and pumpkins in every size and shape and colour imaginable. The air would be sharp and cool and perhaps tinged with sweet smoke from the burning leaves and prunings in the nearby orchards. Here I have a stinky internet cafe and perfectly organized piles of Hokkaido apples at 300 yen per apple. (About 3$ CDN... yikes!)
Nahhhh. I'm being too narrow, too negative. There are things here that still thrill me, but it's true that the rate of discovery has dropped significantly. I'm a little tired of being regarded as a painting or a circus animal might; something to admire or visit with, but never to touch. Little niggly doubts about the future of my relationship with Japan are beginning to creep in. At the same time, there's so much depth to it all, there's so much I can still learn. It would be a shame if I didn't soak up a little bit more of the fabulousness before I moved on...
I'm homesick like crazy lately. I saw a pile of beautiful apples in the grocery store and burst into tears; I was thinking about Bear's Fruitstand in Keromeos, BC, which by now would be piled high with verdant displays of apples and squashes and pumpkins in every size and shape and colour imaginable. The air would be sharp and cool and perhaps tinged with sweet smoke from the burning leaves and prunings in the nearby orchards. Here I have a stinky internet cafe and perfectly organized piles of Hokkaido apples at 300 yen per apple. (About 3$ CDN... yikes!)
Nahhhh. I'm being too narrow, too negative. There are things here that still thrill me, but it's true that the rate of discovery has dropped significantly. I'm a little tired of being regarded as a painting or a circus animal might; something to admire or visit with, but never to touch. Little niggly doubts about the future of my relationship with Japan are beginning to creep in. At the same time, there's so much depth to it all, there's so much I can still learn. It would be a shame if I didn't soak up a little bit more of the fabulousness before I moved on...
Thursday, October 12, 2006
I am still picking bugs out of my hair. Today I rode my bike and ride my bike and rode my bike. I rode as far out as I could. Tokushima extends out into the ocean to a ferry terminal and an industrial man-made island. I found a squatters camp beside the sea; a park full of giant pines with their roots partly out of the ground like they were trying to walk away, and laughing children playing among them; secret piles of ocean garbage-- styrofoam, anchors, nets, flotsam, jetsam; a mountainous pile of stone and concrete buddhas; sparkling watersides, good smells, bad smells, a lot of concrete, and many many smiling curious people. It was a sunny breezy day, and my head was full-- I needed to just go and go and let the salt air wash me out. Autumn is always a tulmultuous time; particularly now that I don't have the newness of school to look forward to. No new classes or new friends or new school clothes. I'll have to go and buy some nice stationary for my Japanese lessons, fill the void. At least I know why I feel funny, and I don't have to spend ages stressing about why I'm stressing. I think I'm buying into the melancholy theme that is marketed here in Japan to go with the shift in seasons; as the leaves change colour, one is meant to contemplate moodily and moon about over failed romances and days gone by. I don't regret any of my history, but I am a little homesick lately and anxious about what comes next. I have my contract evaluation in a week. Mom and dad want to know where exactly I'll be in August of next year. I don't know! Depends on whether Nova want to keep me on, whether I want to keep on with Nova. I don't know, I don't know. I can only trust that I will know, eventually.
Monday, October 09, 2006
Happy Canadian Thanksgiving! Actually, I wouldn't have had a clue that it was today if my family hadn't called me this morning to taunt me with turkey tales. Not that I'm crazy about the stuff, but there is a certain nostalgia attached to the taste. The smell of the linen tablecloth, and the glow of the candles, the sparkle of the good silverware and dishes, the hum of activity as place-cards are made and gravy is stirred and mom yells at me and my brother to put on some nice clothes, our grandparents will be here any minute! I want to miss it, but I don't-- not really. I miss my family, but given the choice, I'd rather have a campfire with them and roast some hot-dogs than get dressed up and eat gravy and stuffing. I say this now; give me another two months and I'll bet you that I'm dying for some cranberry sauce!
I had my first Japanese lesson today-- forgive me, I know I said MONTHS ago that I would be starting classes, but I just never really got around to it; I was reluctant to give up my free time when I was still new to the city and wanted to explore as much as possible. At any rate, I am SO glad I went. I have a new sense of empathy for my own students now! Tamura-sensei is a kind woman in her 50's or 60's (I can never tell, as these women age so beautifully). She exudes all the warmth and patience of kindergarten teacher, and I find myself wanting to hug her and pick her bunches of dandelions. But class wasn't so easy-- the rate was pretty quick, as most of the other students have been studying on their own up to now. There is a good mix of students; two from China, one from the Philippines, one from Brazil and me from Canada. Mr. Brazil sat right next to me and corrected my pencil strokes as I hashed out my hiragana. I felt a little flushed and annoyed-- everyone else sat at least one seat apart. But his corrections were motivated by kindness, so I accepted them as gracefully as I was able. I better practice so I'm a smoother student next week! Maybe then Tamura-sensei will give me a gold star!
The autumn-blooming flowers have been dazzling me... I don't think I realized that such a spectacle existed. You have to admire these plants, motivated by the sudden chill in the air to give one last killer show of scent and colour. At first I thought that maybe the bulbs in the ground were confused, mistaking the seasonal change for a second spring, but the flowers are alien to me. Patches of wee lilies like elongated snowdrops, bright bursts of the richest red like frozen fireworks on slender green necks, and then there are the candy flowers... The candy flowers have been driving me mad for a week! Everywhere I rode my bicycle, these walls of beautiful sweetness were riding on the wind and smashing into my brain. I couldn't see them. I could only smell them, sweet and good-- like candy necklaces, like froot loops and orchards of ripe apricots and nectarines. Last night I hunted them. I had to see their faces, scrutinize these coyly beckoning flowers. I found them, little innocuous clusters of orange blossoms on bushes with shiny dark broad green leaves. I was surprised by their simplicity and their power; I think of them as the lilacs of the autumn now.
I wrote this today in an email to a friend of mine, and thought I'd stick it here, as it encapsulates how I'm feeling now. (Thanks, Jamie):
"The nights lately have been clear and sharp-- last night I wandered about the quiet streets taking photos... it's been my favorite activity since discovering the night-function on my camera. There wasn't a soul around, and it was 11pm on a National Holiday night. This city is so sweet and tarnished. It's all goodwill and quiet nights and the smell of chicken-on-a-stick, dried grasses growing in the cracks of every sidewalk. I wish I could wrap the experience up and send it to you in a marzipan ball so you could eat it whole. Big and small, full and empty, sweet and sticky, lively and still... and that's life, wherever you are. One thing I've really realized here is that life is the same pretty much everywhere. That gives me power, because now I know I can be me wherever I go. I can't stop smiling into the wind."
Pear orchard, watermelon field and salt dishes on either side of the doorsill... Jess wanted to know, so here are the Chinese parables, as told to me by Bubu (and with my own flourishes here and there!):
The first two have to do with maintaining a sense of honor-- or a good reputation. Bubu explained them to me when he was telling me that he would never come to visit me in my apartment without his wife (not that I expected or wanted him to). "If you don't want anyone to think that you are a thief, never touch your shoes in a watermelon field, or touch your hat in a pear orchard." I find the idea that you could hide a watermelon in your shoe a little ridiculous, but who knows how big the watermelons are in China...
As for the salt: A long time ago in China, there was an emperor who had many many concubines, as emperors are wont to do. Something about being in power makes them feel like they have to spread the wealth of their wonderfulness (whether or not anyone else thinks they are all that wonderful). At any rate, this emperor must have been at least a little bit wonderful, because all the concubines wanted to have him to their selves. Perhaps if they produced a heir, they would get a few more goodies out of the deal. Goodness knows, it's not all fun and games being a concubine. But the emperor was noncommittal sort of fellow, mostly because he didn't want to have all of his wives of his getting pissed at him because he was spending more time with one than another. "If you think one wife is difficult to handle," he often thought. So, being marginally clever, he devised a plan. He decided to let his oxen choose which of the concubines he would visit. How is that possible, you may be asking? Especially since oxen are less than marginally clever? Well, the emperor was royalty, so he didn't do that much walking around. He preferred to ride in his fancy double-oxen powered cart. He would ride around the concubines' quarters (there were so many of them that they all had separate houses in a little concubines-only town) and instead of driving to Lily's place or Mai's house, he would drop the reins and let the oxen wander until they decided to stop and munch on Li-Li's roses or whatever. The king would consider his partner for the evening chosen, and hop out of his cart and get down to business. However, there was one concubine who was more than marginally clever and she knew the one thing that oxen liked better than Mai's tulip bulbs or Li-Li's roses. Salt! So each evening before the emperor got into his cart, she would put a little dish of salt on either side of her door, one for each ox. Of course, although the oxen were pretty dim-witted, they managed to find the salt, and it wasn't long before they were beating a path to the clever concubine's door every night. We can assume that she lived a long and happy life and had bushels of children, etcetera, amen. So now the tradition continues in Japan! To attract customers to their businesses, everyday a fresh little bowl of salt is put on either side of the door frame.
I had my first Japanese lesson today-- forgive me, I know I said MONTHS ago that I would be starting classes, but I just never really got around to it; I was reluctant to give up my free time when I was still new to the city and wanted to explore as much as possible. At any rate, I am SO glad I went. I have a new sense of empathy for my own students now! Tamura-sensei is a kind woman in her 50's or 60's (I can never tell, as these women age so beautifully). She exudes all the warmth and patience of kindergarten teacher, and I find myself wanting to hug her and pick her bunches of dandelions. But class wasn't so easy-- the rate was pretty quick, as most of the other students have been studying on their own up to now. There is a good mix of students; two from China, one from the Philippines, one from Brazil and me from Canada. Mr. Brazil sat right next to me and corrected my pencil strokes as I hashed out my hiragana. I felt a little flushed and annoyed-- everyone else sat at least one seat apart. But his corrections were motivated by kindness, so I accepted them as gracefully as I was able. I better practice so I'm a smoother student next week! Maybe then Tamura-sensei will give me a gold star!
The autumn-blooming flowers have been dazzling me... I don't think I realized that such a spectacle existed. You have to admire these plants, motivated by the sudden chill in the air to give one last killer show of scent and colour. At first I thought that maybe the bulbs in the ground were confused, mistaking the seasonal change for a second spring, but the flowers are alien to me. Patches of wee lilies like elongated snowdrops, bright bursts of the richest red like frozen fireworks on slender green necks, and then there are the candy flowers... The candy flowers have been driving me mad for a week! Everywhere I rode my bicycle, these walls of beautiful sweetness were riding on the wind and smashing into my brain. I couldn't see them. I could only smell them, sweet and good-- like candy necklaces, like froot loops and orchards of ripe apricots and nectarines. Last night I hunted them. I had to see their faces, scrutinize these coyly beckoning flowers. I found them, little innocuous clusters of orange blossoms on bushes with shiny dark broad green leaves. I was surprised by their simplicity and their power; I think of them as the lilacs of the autumn now.
I wrote this today in an email to a friend of mine, and thought I'd stick it here, as it encapsulates how I'm feeling now. (Thanks, Jamie):
"The nights lately have been clear and sharp-- last night I wandered about the quiet streets taking photos... it's been my favorite activity since discovering the night-function on my camera. There wasn't a soul around, and it was 11pm on a National Holiday night. This city is so sweet and tarnished. It's all goodwill and quiet nights and the smell of chicken-on-a-stick, dried grasses growing in the cracks of every sidewalk. I wish I could wrap the experience up and send it to you in a marzipan ball so you could eat it whole. Big and small, full and empty, sweet and sticky, lively and still... and that's life, wherever you are. One thing I've really realized here is that life is the same pretty much everywhere. That gives me power, because now I know I can be me wherever I go. I can't stop smiling into the wind."
Pear orchard, watermelon field and salt dishes on either side of the doorsill... Jess wanted to know, so here are the Chinese parables, as told to me by Bubu (and with my own flourishes here and there!):
The first two have to do with maintaining a sense of honor-- or a good reputation. Bubu explained them to me when he was telling me that he would never come to visit me in my apartment without his wife (not that I expected or wanted him to). "If you don't want anyone to think that you are a thief, never touch your shoes in a watermelon field, or touch your hat in a pear orchard." I find the idea that you could hide a watermelon in your shoe a little ridiculous, but who knows how big the watermelons are in China...
As for the salt: A long time ago in China, there was an emperor who had many many concubines, as emperors are wont to do. Something about being in power makes them feel like they have to spread the wealth of their wonderfulness (whether or not anyone else thinks they are all that wonderful). At any rate, this emperor must have been at least a little bit wonderful, because all the concubines wanted to have him to their selves. Perhaps if they produced a heir, they would get a few more goodies out of the deal. Goodness knows, it's not all fun and games being a concubine. But the emperor was noncommittal sort of fellow, mostly because he didn't want to have all of his wives of his getting pissed at him because he was spending more time with one than another. "If you think one wife is difficult to handle," he often thought. So, being marginally clever, he devised a plan. He decided to let his oxen choose which of the concubines he would visit. How is that possible, you may be asking? Especially since oxen are less than marginally clever? Well, the emperor was royalty, so he didn't do that much walking around. He preferred to ride in his fancy double-oxen powered cart. He would ride around the concubines' quarters (there were so many of them that they all had separate houses in a little concubines-only town) and instead of driving to Lily's place or Mai's house, he would drop the reins and let the oxen wander until they decided to stop and munch on Li-Li's roses or whatever. The king would consider his partner for the evening chosen, and hop out of his cart and get down to business. However, there was one concubine who was more than marginally clever and she knew the one thing that oxen liked better than Mai's tulip bulbs or Li-Li's roses. Salt! So each evening before the emperor got into his cart, she would put a little dish of salt on either side of her door, one for each ox. Of course, although the oxen were pretty dim-witted, they managed to find the salt, and it wasn't long before they were beating a path to the clever concubine's door every night. We can assume that she lived a long and happy life and had bushels of children, etcetera, amen. So now the tradition continues in Japan! To attract customers to their businesses, everyday a fresh little bowl of salt is put on either side of the door frame.
Friday, October 06, 2006
Well, that last blank space was meant to show a picture of me and my 'boyfriend'-- I pulled a face next to an ad for some over-the-top video game, and came out looking a lot like the effeminate anime hero I was posing with. Oh well... this is just further proof that I am not ready for the technological age. Half the time I'm a determined technology-hater. I think rude thoughts about the people who ride their bikes and type text-messages on their cell-phones at the same time. I imagine that I could be very happy living in the woods and bathing in a creek, never hearing the sound of a PC humming or an i-pod blaring, only listening to insects and owls and the wind. Then I realize my own dependance on my cell phone, my fondness for espresso from the high-speed machine, my satisfaction at typing out my stories. I could do without, but how would I do, really?
I made dinner at Bubu's house last night for him, Haruko, Eri, Yasu and Kayo. I was feeling a little under the weather, and Yasu and Kayo were fabulous kitchen helpers, chopping onions and toasting almonds. I made split-pea soup (which was close to as good as my mom's, but not quite there), an autumn salad of my own design, and ginger-pineapple chicken sandwiches. All went well up to the point of serving the sandwiches; I accidentally made 5 instead of 6, and feeling as I was, I burst into tears. Everyone was quick to console me and stop me from rushing back into the kitchen to cook up one more chicken breast-- "Daijobu, Enchan. You made American-size sandwiches! It's too big! We can share it!" I think the soup was the most successful part of the meal; the baugette I used for lack of proper sandwich bread was difficult to tear with the teeth, and soon we were all covered in chicken juice and laughing. The salad was good, but needed a little more salt or something. But the soup-- well, Yasu had three bowls, so I'll consider that a success. "You will make a good wife, Enchan," he assured me with his mouth full.
There's something about this weather that is thrilling me to my core. I'm quite lucky-- it feels as though summer has just ended. It's cool and blustery and sometimes rainy. Maz swears that the wind knows when we will be riding our bikes across that kilometer-long bridge, and shifts accordingly so that it's always against us. But I can't feel anything but acceptance for the direction of the wind, whether it's with me or against me. If it's with me, I can race the cars. Wheeee! If it's against me, I get more exersize, and the strong breeze keeps my body cool and comfortable. When I'm riding my bike through town and my hair is whipping all around me, I can chase the leaves and crunch them under my tires. I can feel the electricity of possibility that autumn always seems to bring.
As for possibilities, I'm not sure what Tokushima has got up it's sleeve for me. Some major changes have shifted the vibe in the gaikokujin (apparently, the more polite way to say 'foriegners') community. The top stories: Some of the rowdier Australian guys skipped town a couple of months back. One of them didn't even give notice at his job; he just got fed up and one morning, he was gone. Let's see, what else? Apparently some Canadian girls are giving us good Canadian girls a bad name by sitting around downtown and flashing their boobs to passerby. And-- the Kicker-- Norm closed Big Brothers! Well, not 'closed' exactly, but it doesn't exist as a sandwich shop near the station anymore. He's moved the sandwich operation into Root Down, his night club. This should make his life a little easier-- maybe now he'll actually have a life, and get to see his girlfriend more often. But for the rest of us... I don't know where to go for a midafternoon coffee and gossip. I'm not really into going out in the evenings anymore, it's expensive, and typically pretty sedate. You sit in your pre-determined group, you drink your pre-determined drink, and some people tell the stories or moan the blues or sing the karaoke songs that you've heard a thousand times before. The two dance clubs I used to go to are over-run by Eastern European hostesses, who are stereotypically unfriendly to the English teachers. (The female English teachers anyhow.) So. What's a girl to do? I've been devouring books, hiking, drawing a little more. I might get an interview in a local magazine as a Foriegn Artist (important-looking capitals my own addition). I've been going to the onsen with Miho and Kayo pretty regularly, and learning more interesting stories from Bubu. Did I mention the Chinese parable about not touching your shoe in a watermelon field, and not touching your hat in a pear orchard? How about why Japanese people put two little dishes of salt on either side of the entrances to their businesses?
Ask me if you want to know...
I made dinner at Bubu's house last night for him, Haruko, Eri, Yasu and Kayo. I was feeling a little under the weather, and Yasu and Kayo were fabulous kitchen helpers, chopping onions and toasting almonds. I made split-pea soup (which was close to as good as my mom's, but not quite there), an autumn salad of my own design, and ginger-pineapple chicken sandwiches. All went well up to the point of serving the sandwiches; I accidentally made 5 instead of 6, and feeling as I was, I burst into tears. Everyone was quick to console me and stop me from rushing back into the kitchen to cook up one more chicken breast-- "Daijobu, Enchan. You made American-size sandwiches! It's too big! We can share it!" I think the soup was the most successful part of the meal; the baugette I used for lack of proper sandwich bread was difficult to tear with the teeth, and soon we were all covered in chicken juice and laughing. The salad was good, but needed a little more salt or something. But the soup-- well, Yasu had three bowls, so I'll consider that a success. "You will make a good wife, Enchan," he assured me with his mouth full.
There's something about this weather that is thrilling me to my core. I'm quite lucky-- it feels as though summer has just ended. It's cool and blustery and sometimes rainy. Maz swears that the wind knows when we will be riding our bikes across that kilometer-long bridge, and shifts accordingly so that it's always against us. But I can't feel anything but acceptance for the direction of the wind, whether it's with me or against me. If it's with me, I can race the cars. Wheeee! If it's against me, I get more exersize, and the strong breeze keeps my body cool and comfortable. When I'm riding my bike through town and my hair is whipping all around me, I can chase the leaves and crunch them under my tires. I can feel the electricity of possibility that autumn always seems to bring.
As for possibilities, I'm not sure what Tokushima has got up it's sleeve for me. Some major changes have shifted the vibe in the gaikokujin (apparently, the more polite way to say 'foriegners') community. The top stories: Some of the rowdier Australian guys skipped town a couple of months back. One of them didn't even give notice at his job; he just got fed up and one morning, he was gone. Let's see, what else? Apparently some Canadian girls are giving us good Canadian girls a bad name by sitting around downtown and flashing their boobs to passerby. And-- the Kicker-- Norm closed Big Brothers! Well, not 'closed' exactly, but it doesn't exist as a sandwich shop near the station anymore. He's moved the sandwich operation into Root Down, his night club. This should make his life a little easier-- maybe now he'll actually have a life, and get to see his girlfriend more often. But for the rest of us... I don't know where to go for a midafternoon coffee and gossip. I'm not really into going out in the evenings anymore, it's expensive, and typically pretty sedate. You sit in your pre-determined group, you drink your pre-determined drink, and some people tell the stories or moan the blues or sing the karaoke songs that you've heard a thousand times before. The two dance clubs I used to go to are over-run by Eastern European hostesses, who are stereotypically unfriendly to the English teachers. (The female English teachers anyhow.) So. What's a girl to do? I've been devouring books, hiking, drawing a little more. I might get an interview in a local magazine as a Foriegn Artist (important-looking capitals my own addition). I've been going to the onsen with Miho and Kayo pretty regularly, and learning more interesting stories from Bubu. Did I mention the Chinese parable about not touching your shoe in a watermelon field, and not touching your hat in a pear orchard? How about why Japanese people put two little dishes of salt on either side of the entrances to their businesses?
Ask me if you want to know...
Monday, October 02, 2006
Everyday I am faced with little surprises of understanding-- for example, today when I came into the internet cafe and the proprietress told me "san-ju-ban" I didn't hesitate to walk to cubicle number thirty. I didn't even have to interpret her words in my head-- I just knew. Language is such a strange concept, when you think about it. All these little noises like codes to be intercepted and recieved... and so much of what we say has no use whatsoever, no real purpose for furthering a discussion or improving a situation. That said, it's nice to know whether a discussion is being advanced or not. Yesterday morning when I got into the elevator, I said 'Ohaiyo gozaimasu' (good morning) to the petite 40ish man in the elevator. He responded in kind, and then went on to express his surprise at my ability to say good morning, and to compliment my Japanese ability. I don't take this seriously anymore; you could say 'dozo' (please) and get a compliment. So the most important phrase I have learned so far has been, "Iie, jouzu ja arimasen," （No, I don't have any skill). He laughed at this, and continued talking as patted my waist to gently encourage me out of the elevator before him. But he had forgotten that the anatomy of a woman two feet taller than he might be a little different, and he inadvertantly missed my waist and patted my bottom. I know that it was a mistake as he was quite shocked at the bounce of the flesh he had touched and was quite suddenly brisk and red-faced as we left the building.
Jouzu ja arimasen.
Time is rocketing, as it has a tendency to do as we age. Each year becomes a smaller percentage of your overall lifespan, and therefore goes by a lot more quickly. When you're two, one year is 50% of your life. Now, one year is only 3.7% of my life. Next year will be 3.57%. And so on. I7m feeling compelled to consider What's Next with a new intensity. How long will I stay in Japan? Where do I see myself in five years, ten years? In what financial situation, in what country? Are there kids, a family, a dog, a cat, a house? Or am I living in a van down by the river, shelling wild peas and chopping firewood? If there's one thing I can count on, it's for life to offer me some unforseeable twists and turns. If I'd followed my plan as I had imagined it at the age of eighteen, I'd be married with two kids, making my living as an artist and living on Vancouver Island as of now. Here I am, single and fabulous, sleeping on a futon and teaching English on the other side of the world. I guess I should just keep being myself, wide open and ready for whatever comes next.
****
And as an addemendum, yes, I did miss Alex, Dan and Jon when I was mentioning departed (as in resigned) NOVA employees. Sorry Alex! And I'm REALLY sorry Dan! (whom I should NOT have forgotten, seeing as he was my manager at Kitajima!) As for Jon-- no apologies neccesary. He left NOVA, but he didn't leave town! I still see him in the grocery store.
Jouzu ja arimasen.
Time is rocketing, as it has a tendency to do as we age. Each year becomes a smaller percentage of your overall lifespan, and therefore goes by a lot more quickly. When you're two, one year is 50% of your life. Now, one year is only 3.7% of my life. Next year will be 3.57%. And so on. I7m feeling compelled to consider What's Next with a new intensity. How long will I stay in Japan? Where do I see myself in five years, ten years? In what financial situation, in what country? Are there kids, a family, a dog, a cat, a house? Or am I living in a van down by the river, shelling wild peas and chopping firewood? If there's one thing I can count on, it's for life to offer me some unforseeable twists and turns. If I'd followed my plan as I had imagined it at the age of eighteen, I'd be married with two kids, making my living as an artist and living on Vancouver Island as of now. Here I am, single and fabulous, sleeping on a futon and teaching English on the other side of the world. I guess I should just keep being myself, wide open and ready for whatever comes next.
****
And as an addemendum, yes, I did miss Alex, Dan and Jon when I was mentioning departed (as in resigned) NOVA employees. Sorry Alex! And I'm REALLY sorry Dan! (whom I should NOT have forgotten, seeing as he was my manager at Kitajima!) As for Jon-- no apologies neccesary. He left NOVA, but he didn't leave town! I still see him in the grocery store.
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Two interesting things:
You can buy rice from vending machines-- like those large-sized vending machines for purified water in Canada. I haven't tried one yet-- they look intimidating.
I can't buy brown rice-- I can't find it in Tokushima. It's considered 'low class', and the bulk of it is reserved for prison inmates; it's served as a form of punishment. (At least the prisoners are likely to be regular!)
You can buy rice from vending machines-- like those large-sized vending machines for purified water in Canada. I haven't tried one yet-- they look intimidating.
I can't buy brown rice-- I can't find it in Tokushima. It's considered 'low class', and the bulk of it is reserved for prison inmates; it's served as a form of punishment. (At least the prisoners are likely to be regular!)
The weather is shockingly lovely. The days are long and clear and bright with cool breezes; the evenings encourage the wearing of a light sweater. The leaves are shifting to a dark, tired green, and the rice in the fields has turned a gorgeous heavy green-gold. Some of the farmers have already harvested the first crop and put in a crop of late-harvest rice, but the young green shoots have none of the electric tenderness of the spring variety. They are darker, sparser, more resolute.
We have a new staff member at the downtown Nova; her name is Jenna, and she's the dearest little elf of a Scot. Bani will be leaving at the end of October. still haven't gotten used to all the comings and goings in this company. The turnover is becoming a little wearing... it's sad to say goodbye to a steady stream of friends. How many have left since I've arrived? Shona, Ken, Brian, Ashley... am I missing anyone? I hope not.
I've been trying to get out more and re-become a tourist in this city. Since parting ways with Yoshino, I've had to become a little more ingenuitive and independent... just as well. I stopped hanging out with him because I was getting a little tired of being told that I was fat, I need to diet, etc, etc. At first I let it go, seeing as the language barrier sometimes leads to an unintentional absence of tact. Then it became apparent that he wasn't going to change-- my free English lessons weren't making an impact on his personality. Besides which, on the one time I took him to Bubu's for lunch, he very quickly alienated Bubu, Haruko and Miho, and the three of them declared him to be a very strange Japanese fellow indeed. I think I had enough strange in Canada, thank you! Besides which, I'm NOT fat. I'm just not an average size for Japan. Dieting isn't going to make me any shorter, or my size 10 feet any smaller.
We have a new staff member at the downtown Nova; her name is Jenna, and she's the dearest little elf of a Scot. Bani will be leaving at the end of October. still haven't gotten used to all the comings and goings in this company. The turnover is becoming a little wearing... it's sad to say goodbye to a steady stream of friends. How many have left since I've arrived? Shona, Ken, Brian, Ashley... am I missing anyone? I hope not.
I've been trying to get out more and re-become a tourist in this city. Since parting ways with Yoshino, I've had to become a little more ingenuitive and independent... just as well. I stopped hanging out with him because I was getting a little tired of being told that I was fat, I need to diet, etc, etc. At first I let it go, seeing as the language barrier sometimes leads to an unintentional absence of tact. Then it became apparent that he wasn't going to change-- my free English lessons weren't making an impact on his personality. Besides which, on the one time I took him to Bubu's for lunch, he very quickly alienated Bubu, Haruko and Miho, and the three of them declared him to be a very strange Japanese fellow indeed. I think I had enough strange in Canada, thank you! Besides which, I'm NOT fat. I'm just not an average size for Japan. Dieting isn't going to make me any shorter, or my size 10 feet any smaller.
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
I shouldn't leave my blogging as the last thing to do before I leave the internet cafe. The heavy cigarette smoke is giving me a headache that not even the free espresso can quell.
Feeling sluggish even as the caffeine sloshes through my veins; I guess I'm still recovering from the indulgences of my vacation. I ate-- OH, did I eat! I ate crab legs and strange orange sea creatures, I ate seaweed salads and home-made gyoza, and Mickey-shaped onigiri and sugary soda-flavoured popcorn from Tokyo Disneyland. In Sendai I ate cow's tongue and snotty-textured raw yama-imo (mountain potato). And here's the kicker-- I ate whale. Oooh, Greenpeace is gonna get me now! I didn't know it was whale when I took it. Maybe that's not an excuse. But I ate it. Hmmm. Greasy like lamb-fat, darkly manky in flavour. I can't honestly recommend it. Eating it prompted a discussion of why whale is still consumed in Japan-- force of habit, mostly. Long time ago, there were no cows in Japan (or very few to speak of, so let's just say there were none) so all the protein sources came from the sea--- why spend time and energy raising meat when you can just go grab it out of the ocean? Now of course, whales are endangered, and the world-wide consumption of beef causes global warming as 3rd world nations slash and burn forests so as to raise cattle and compete in the global economy... but let's stop there. Sustainability is an issue for another time. For now, let's just accept the fact that I ate whale, and I feel weird about it.
I flew to Tokyo last Wednesday and promptly got lost trying to find Sumiko and Kazuo. I found an information kiosk and had the embarrassing honor of having my name and my predicament announced to the hundreds of thousands of people in the Narita airport. Sumiko-- with Kazuo, her niece Yuuko, and Yuuko's two sons-- aged 5 and 3-- descended upon me, told Tomoya (age 5) to hold my hand and not lose me, and off we went. Lunch, monorail, train, train, train, train, car. Ta-da! We're in Tsukuba. From the outside, the two houses looked unchanged (Sumiko's and Kazuo's, and Kazuo's parents house-- they've both passed away since I was here in 1994) but Sumiko and Kazuo had been doing some renovating-- now both houses were connected, forming one mega-house. HUGE! Like a maze of sliding doors and dropped foyers and long hallways and secret rooms. My bedroom was to be in Sumiko's former master suite, where I slept 12 years ago at the foot of their bed on the floor. (This sounds weird, but it was because it was the only air-conditioned bedroom in the house, so they were actually being very kind). We dropped off my stuff, went out for do-it-yourself okonomiyaki and karaoke, then returned home, an exhausted wee trio, to the monster palace.
The next day started another round of car, train, train, train, train, as Sumiko, Yuuko, Tomoya and I plunged back into Tokyo to go to Disneyland. OK, so forgive me, but I'm going to say it here and now: I am finished with Disneyland. I have never liked Mickey or Minnie Mouse. And yet-- I have been to Disneyland California, Disney World Florida, and now Tokyo Disneyland-- twice. It's like some part of me belongs to Walt Disney's frozen spirit, and I can't escape. I'll admit that the first time, I felt the magic. I was able to suspend reality, be a child in a magical fairyland. But then, in university, I grew suspicious. I studied Disneyland, took it apart, researched its inner workings, its dark anomalies. And then, like the kid who takes apart her grandfather's beautiful pocketwatch to figure out how it works, I couldn't put it together again. Disneyland didn't 'tick' for me anymore. Just like after Film School, when all I could do was notice bad lighting, stilted scriptwriting, and poor sound quality. At least I still have my night-time dream-shows... I ought not ever study psychology.
Anyway, I'm off track.
Tokyo Disneyland was Disneyland, in all of it's fabricated, fascinating glory. Characters careened through the manicured boulevards-- I posed with the Mad Hatter from Alice in Wonderland, some flaming Iowa farmboy with perfect white teeth and a glued-on nose. "Let's be eighties about it and pose back-to-back!" he trilled. I grinned and said, as an aside, "sure is nice to speak real English to somebody!" He nodded enthusiastically, and breaking from his Disney-script, said "Tell me about it, sister! Tell Me About It!" So all, in all, Disneyland was fun. There was a Halloween theme-- so we watched the Halloween parade-- twice (most of the rides frightened Tomoya). I wore Minnie ears. I went on Pooh's Hunny-Hunt which was quite fun and beautiful. I also got a kick out of hearing Pooh and Tigger and Piglet talk in Japanese. When Tigger sings the bouncy Tigger song, it actually sounds quite-- well, dirty. I won't mention what I thought I heard him say! I also went on Buzz Lightyear's Space Blasters ride. I got to handle a laser-gun and shoot aliens... so that was fun too. The Raceway and The Jungle Cruise and Splash Mountain are the same as they are at every other Disneyland-- except in Japanese, of course. And-- here's where I don't remember why I was complaining in the first place-- Sumiko bought me a fast-pass for the Thunder Mountain railroad, far-and-away my favorite Disneyland ride! That was wicked. OK, I'll go back to Disneyland. When I have kids.
Train, train, train, train, car. Bed. Get up, eat breakfast-- Sumiko had lovingly sorted out the details of my trip, and left a gorgeous Japanese breakfast for me as she herself had to get off to work that day. She arranged to have her other niece Haruka, meet me that morning. car, train, train, train, train. Shinsaibashi, Harujuku, shop, look for 'Harajuku Girls' (didn't see any), eat the crepes that Harujuku is famous for (yes, crepes-- mine was strawberry-chocolate-cream-and-pound-cake flavour). Then train, train, train, back to Tokyo station to meet Ume. Then onto the Shinkansen (Bullet Train) and start off to Sendai. As we jet along in the relative peace and comfort of the speeding capsule, I felt strangely at ease. I'm going to Sendai. I'm going home, I'll see Ume's mom and dad, I'll sleep on a futon on the floor next to best Japanese girlfriend, we'll talk about stuff. Actually, we never ceased talking about stuff. The whole 2 hour train ride, then as we walked through Sendai to a Jazz cafe, and later on from there to have a reunion with 4 of the the Penticton-Summerland Japanese exchange students of 1994, neither one of us shuts up. I tell her about my students, my friends, my mishaps in the world of dating Japanese guys and she tells me about her two years in Hawaii, her current boyfriend, the antics of her over-the-top father.
It was good to see the other students again. Jun-ya, only 30, looks as though he's 45... already a father, and a heavy-drinking, heavy-smoking salary-slave. As we reminisced, I felt my heart ache for the confident, hopeful boy he'd been. As for the girls-- one's married, a brand-new shufu (housewife), the other is looking forward to her wedding. Hiro really impressed me-- never ceasing to believe that he was anything but an artist, he is now nothing but an artist. Determined and committed, 100%. The next day, Ume and her Dad and I all went out to Hiro's family house wayyyy out in the far reaches of a country town called Zao, and saw his work. It blew my mind. We're talking intense, massive watercolours stretched on boards-- ranging anywhere from 10' x 30', to his largest, 26' x 90'. Well, we said we wanted a revolution in watercolours, and Hiro's done it. I was at a complete loss for words. We all moved indoors (he paints in a converted barn/garage, like I did in Aldergrove) and had tea with his mother and father and-- I'm not sure if he/she was his grandma or grandpa. Anyway, I did Hiro's portrait, and he did mine. Ume's dad told stories that made Hiro choke on his laughter as he sketched me. He invited me to come to the art prep school he works at and I did, a day later. I had a blast, and was once again deeply impressed by his seriousness and commitment to art and his students.
The afternoon after we visited Hiro's house, Ume, and her mom and I convened at the Green Green Ryokan, set in the heart of the undeniably green, green rolling hills. The view from our room looked out on nothing but an expanse of emerald. The onsen at the hotel was simple but large and comfortable; the outdoor bath was blessed by the cool sweet air rolling down off the mountainside. I spent a whole 20 hours with Ume and her mom, lolling about in our hotel-yukatas (we even ate dinner in them), eating mochi-ume sweets and Sendai vanilla cream-cheese, watching Japanese comedies on TV and having multiple baths at the onsen. Pure bliss.
As I write this, the sun is shifting outdoors, and I feel the pounding need to get out of this internet cafe... I can only remain suspended in the comfort of my memories for so long before the second-hand nicotine becomes a renewed reality. Suffice it to say, I had a lovely time; I feel re-centered and surrounded by the warmth and love of good Japanese people on all sides. I am truly blessed to have met all of these people, and to have experienced their warmth and generosity.
Feeling sluggish even as the caffeine sloshes through my veins; I guess I'm still recovering from the indulgences of my vacation. I ate-- OH, did I eat! I ate crab legs and strange orange sea creatures, I ate seaweed salads and home-made gyoza, and Mickey-shaped onigiri and sugary soda-flavoured popcorn from Tokyo Disneyland. In Sendai I ate cow's tongue and snotty-textured raw yama-imo (mountain potato). And here's the kicker-- I ate whale. Oooh, Greenpeace is gonna get me now! I didn't know it was whale when I took it. Maybe that's not an excuse. But I ate it. Hmmm. Greasy like lamb-fat, darkly manky in flavour. I can't honestly recommend it. Eating it prompted a discussion of why whale is still consumed in Japan-- force of habit, mostly. Long time ago, there were no cows in Japan (or very few to speak of, so let's just say there were none) so all the protein sources came from the sea--- why spend time and energy raising meat when you can just go grab it out of the ocean? Now of course, whales are endangered, and the world-wide consumption of beef causes global warming as 3rd world nations slash and burn forests so as to raise cattle and compete in the global economy... but let's stop there. Sustainability is an issue for another time. For now, let's just accept the fact that I ate whale, and I feel weird about it.
I flew to Tokyo last Wednesday and promptly got lost trying to find Sumiko and Kazuo. I found an information kiosk and had the embarrassing honor of having my name and my predicament announced to the hundreds of thousands of people in the Narita airport. Sumiko-- with Kazuo, her niece Yuuko, and Yuuko's two sons-- aged 5 and 3-- descended upon me, told Tomoya (age 5) to hold my hand and not lose me, and off we went. Lunch, monorail, train, train, train, train, car. Ta-da! We're in Tsukuba. From the outside, the two houses looked unchanged (Sumiko's and Kazuo's, and Kazuo's parents house-- they've both passed away since I was here in 1994) but Sumiko and Kazuo had been doing some renovating-- now both houses were connected, forming one mega-house. HUGE! Like a maze of sliding doors and dropped foyers and long hallways and secret rooms. My bedroom was to be in Sumiko's former master suite, where I slept 12 years ago at the foot of their bed on the floor. (This sounds weird, but it was because it was the only air-conditioned bedroom in the house, so they were actually being very kind). We dropped off my stuff, went out for do-it-yourself okonomiyaki and karaoke, then returned home, an exhausted wee trio, to the monster palace.
The next day started another round of car, train, train, train, train, as Sumiko, Yuuko, Tomoya and I plunged back into Tokyo to go to Disneyland. OK, so forgive me, but I'm going to say it here and now: I am finished with Disneyland. I have never liked Mickey or Minnie Mouse. And yet-- I have been to Disneyland California, Disney World Florida, and now Tokyo Disneyland-- twice. It's like some part of me belongs to Walt Disney's frozen spirit, and I can't escape. I'll admit that the first time, I felt the magic. I was able to suspend reality, be a child in a magical fairyland. But then, in university, I grew suspicious. I studied Disneyland, took it apart, researched its inner workings, its dark anomalies. And then, like the kid who takes apart her grandfather's beautiful pocketwatch to figure out how it works, I couldn't put it together again. Disneyland didn't 'tick' for me anymore. Just like after Film School, when all I could do was notice bad lighting, stilted scriptwriting, and poor sound quality. At least I still have my night-time dream-shows... I ought not ever study psychology.
Anyway, I'm off track.
Tokyo Disneyland was Disneyland, in all of it's fabricated, fascinating glory. Characters careened through the manicured boulevards-- I posed with the Mad Hatter from Alice in Wonderland, some flaming Iowa farmboy with perfect white teeth and a glued-on nose. "Let's be eighties about it and pose back-to-back!" he trilled. I grinned and said, as an aside, "sure is nice to speak real English to somebody!" He nodded enthusiastically, and breaking from his Disney-script, said "Tell me about it, sister! Tell Me About It!" So all, in all, Disneyland was fun. There was a Halloween theme-- so we watched the Halloween parade-- twice (most of the rides frightened Tomoya). I wore Minnie ears. I went on Pooh's Hunny-Hunt which was quite fun and beautiful. I also got a kick out of hearing Pooh and Tigger and Piglet talk in Japanese. When Tigger sings the bouncy Tigger song, it actually sounds quite-- well, dirty. I won't mention what I thought I heard him say! I also went on Buzz Lightyear's Space Blasters ride. I got to handle a laser-gun and shoot aliens... so that was fun too. The Raceway and The Jungle Cruise and Splash Mountain are the same as they are at every other Disneyland-- except in Japanese, of course. And-- here's where I don't remember why I was complaining in the first place-- Sumiko bought me a fast-pass for the Thunder Mountain railroad, far-and-away my favorite Disneyland ride! That was wicked. OK, I'll go back to Disneyland. When I have kids.
Train, train, train, train, car. Bed. Get up, eat breakfast-- Sumiko had lovingly sorted out the details of my trip, and left a gorgeous Japanese breakfast for me as she herself had to get off to work that day. She arranged to have her other niece Haruka, meet me that morning. car, train, train, train, train. Shinsaibashi, Harujuku, shop, look for 'Harajuku Girls' (didn't see any), eat the crepes that Harujuku is famous for (yes, crepes-- mine was strawberry-chocolate-cream-and-pound-cake flavour). Then train, train, train, back to Tokyo station to meet Ume. Then onto the Shinkansen (Bullet Train) and start off to Sendai. As we jet along in the relative peace and comfort of the speeding capsule, I felt strangely at ease. I'm going to Sendai. I'm going home, I'll see Ume's mom and dad, I'll sleep on a futon on the floor next to best Japanese girlfriend, we'll talk about stuff. Actually, we never ceased talking about stuff. The whole 2 hour train ride, then as we walked through Sendai to a Jazz cafe, and later on from there to have a reunion with 4 of the the Penticton-Summerland Japanese exchange students of 1994, neither one of us shuts up. I tell her about my students, my friends, my mishaps in the world of dating Japanese guys and she tells me about her two years in Hawaii, her current boyfriend, the antics of her over-the-top father.
It was good to see the other students again. Jun-ya, only 30, looks as though he's 45... already a father, and a heavy-drinking, heavy-smoking salary-slave. As we reminisced, I felt my heart ache for the confident, hopeful boy he'd been. As for the girls-- one's married, a brand-new shufu (housewife), the other is looking forward to her wedding. Hiro really impressed me-- never ceasing to believe that he was anything but an artist, he is now nothing but an artist. Determined and committed, 100%. The next day, Ume and her Dad and I all went out to Hiro's family house wayyyy out in the far reaches of a country town called Zao, and saw his work. It blew my mind. We're talking intense, massive watercolours stretched on boards-- ranging anywhere from 10' x 30', to his largest, 26' x 90'. Well, we said we wanted a revolution in watercolours, and Hiro's done it. I was at a complete loss for words. We all moved indoors (he paints in a converted barn/garage, like I did in Aldergrove) and had tea with his mother and father and-- I'm not sure if he/she was his grandma or grandpa. Anyway, I did Hiro's portrait, and he did mine. Ume's dad told stories that made Hiro choke on his laughter as he sketched me. He invited me to come to the art prep school he works at and I did, a day later. I had a blast, and was once again deeply impressed by his seriousness and commitment to art and his students.
The afternoon after we visited Hiro's house, Ume, and her mom and I convened at the Green Green Ryokan, set in the heart of the undeniably green, green rolling hills. The view from our room looked out on nothing but an expanse of emerald. The onsen at the hotel was simple but large and comfortable; the outdoor bath was blessed by the cool sweet air rolling down off the mountainside. I spent a whole 20 hours with Ume and her mom, lolling about in our hotel-yukatas (we even ate dinner in them), eating mochi-ume sweets and Sendai vanilla cream-cheese, watching Japanese comedies on TV and having multiple baths at the onsen. Pure bliss.
As I write this, the sun is shifting outdoors, and I feel the pounding need to get out of this internet cafe... I can only remain suspended in the comfort of my memories for so long before the second-hand nicotine becomes a renewed reality. Suffice it to say, I had a lovely time; I feel re-centered and surrounded by the warmth and love of good Japanese people on all sides. I am truly blessed to have met all of these people, and to have experienced their warmth and generosity.
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
A quickish post just to affirm that all is well, and that I have safely returned from my vacation. I feel refreshed and renewed, and really, those are precisely the feelings I was looking for. Going back to work was like returning home; I got to see some of my favorite students and babble on about Sendai and and Tokyo Disneyland and Harajuko and what-have-you. I feel like a tourist again...
I've also reached some important decisions about what I'm going to do come next year, but I'll keep those under wraps for now. After all, just talking about things doesn't make them manifest; I don't want to let all the air leak out of my balloon.
As for all the thrilling details of my vacation in Eastern Japan, you'll just have to wait. I've got to get home to beat my futon and clean my apartment before my private student shows up for his lesson. Today (to my utter delight) we will be talking about Spongebob Squarepants, and possibly crafting paper Spongebobs to stick on my wall! My life is sweet.
ja, mata ne (roughly- 'later alligator')
Endrene
I've also reached some important decisions about what I'm going to do come next year, but I'll keep those under wraps for now. After all, just talking about things doesn't make them manifest; I don't want to let all the air leak out of my balloon.
As for all the thrilling details of my vacation in Eastern Japan, you'll just have to wait. I've got to get home to beat my futon and clean my apartment before my private student shows up for his lesson. Today (to my utter delight) we will be talking about Spongebob Squarepants, and possibly crafting paper Spongebobs to stick on my wall! My life is sweet.
ja, mata ne (roughly- 'later alligator')
Endrene
Monday, September 11, 2006
This Week's Highlights
Japanese Underwear!
Yes. Yes, yes, yes. I finally decided to stop assuming that I couldn't find underwear in Japan, and just go try some on. I was measured, found to be of quite an acceptable size, and then set free in the wonderland of lace and frills and ribbons, all averaging about 25 bucks Canadian for an amazingly well-made bra and panty set. A hundred dollars later, there is no dirty manga character that can rival me in my frilly cuteness. Ha! Too bad I'm the only one who gets to enjoy me.
Visiting The Boobie Palace!
Most times in life, you don't get an opportunity to go back to the places you once lived. You can wonder about them, and try to imagine how the new folks have decorated, whether or not your bedroom still looks the same, that sort of thing. I was at the Palace this morning, dropping off the key for my apartment-- Joanna and Kat are going to water my plants while I'm on vacation. I was admiring the wallpaper in the WC, and thinking about this. It's not important, but I feel like a ghost haunting an altered memory when I'm there. It's weird, but it's a good feeling.
Vacation Preparation!
Tomorrow I'm off to Tokyo, Tokyo Disney Sea ( the newest theme park), Tsukuba and Sendai. I am looking forward to it the way geeks look forward to the next Star Trek novel, the way chubby kids look forward to birthday cake, the way my buddy Sarah looks forward to the next Black-Eyed Peas album! I told my Junior kids class I was going to Dinseyland and an chorus of "IIiii, Naaaaaa!" (that's coooool!) broke out. I know I'm not supposed to give my students gifts, but I would love to get them some Disney cookies or something while I'm away.
Getting A Talking-To From My 'Japanese Parents'!
Went on a 'date' with a Japanese guy I hardly knew-- this funky little guy named Taka who lived in the US for a couple of years. His English wasn't outstanding-- in particular, he overused the phrase 'too much'-- for example, Canadian and American girls are too much beautiful, American people are too much kindness. But otherwise we communicated all right. Anyway, he took me in his mom's car to Kitajima out for dinner-- I think he mostly wanted to practice his English. The restaurant was a place he used to work at, so the staff came out to visit and chat and have their portraits done by moi on the backs of reciepts. Taka confided that his girlfriend was too much beautiful, and that the next day he was going to tell her that he loved her for the first time, and that he was "too much scared, but good luck for me!" That's when I realized we weren't really on a 'date'. Anyway, after dinner he took me right home-- on the way I checked my cell phone and saw that Bubu had sent me a message: "Are you crazy? Do you want to make same mistakes as before? Do you know what I am talking about?" I didn't really, so I hopped it to his shop as soon as Taka dropped me off-- turns out Bubu and Haruko had seen me get into Taka's car (he had been parked in front of their shop) and they were both freaked out. Bubu lectured me for 1/2 an hour on how Japan isn't safe anymore, young people are dangerous and that I ought to be 'more carefully'. I was a little taken aback at first, but I did see the point of his admonishings; I really didn't know Taka very well, and riding in his car to who-knows-where was probably not the smartest thing to have done. At least I know that there are people who really care about me here.
Indigo Dyeing!
Yesterday Bubu took me out into the nearby countryside to try my hand at natural indigo dyeing, which the prefecture is famous for. I have to bring 'omiyage,' or prefectural gifts, to the Miyamotos in Tsukuba and the Umemuras in Sendai, so indigo seemed like a good idea-- even better if I had made it myself. It's done with the wax resist method-- painting on a white handerchief with a brush loaded with hot wax. Then the handerchief is dipped repeatedly into big concrete tubs filled with indigo dye-- I got to see the plants that make indigo. The process of getting the dye is quite complex, and I'd be curious to know who figured it out! The stems and flowers have to be carefully composted indoors for a certain amount of time until the resulting matter looks like cow dung; then cooked (?) in alkaline water to get the dye. Anyway, it was really fun and rustic-- the studio had a dirt-and-concrete floor, and the Dye Master was a fluffy-haired Japanese hippy, very gentle and earthy. I'm looking forward to going again.
Anyway-- I best get home and pack... I'm on Vacation countdown!!
Namaste
Endrene
Japanese Underwear!
Yes. Yes, yes, yes. I finally decided to stop assuming that I couldn't find underwear in Japan, and just go try some on. I was measured, found to be of quite an acceptable size, and then set free in the wonderland of lace and frills and ribbons, all averaging about 25 bucks Canadian for an amazingly well-made bra and panty set. A hundred dollars later, there is no dirty manga character that can rival me in my frilly cuteness. Ha! Too bad I'm the only one who gets to enjoy me.
Visiting The Boobie Palace!
Most times in life, you don't get an opportunity to go back to the places you once lived. You can wonder about them, and try to imagine how the new folks have decorated, whether or not your bedroom still looks the same, that sort of thing. I was at the Palace this morning, dropping off the key for my apartment-- Joanna and Kat are going to water my plants while I'm on vacation. I was admiring the wallpaper in the WC, and thinking about this. It's not important, but I feel like a ghost haunting an altered memory when I'm there. It's weird, but it's a good feeling.
Vacation Preparation!
Tomorrow I'm off to Tokyo, Tokyo Disney Sea ( the newest theme park), Tsukuba and Sendai. I am looking forward to it the way geeks look forward to the next Star Trek novel, the way chubby kids look forward to birthday cake, the way my buddy Sarah looks forward to the next Black-Eyed Peas album! I told my Junior kids class I was going to Dinseyland and an chorus of "IIiii, Naaaaaa!" (that's coooool!) broke out. I know I'm not supposed to give my students gifts, but I would love to get them some Disney cookies or something while I'm away.
Getting A Talking-To From My 'Japanese Parents'!
Went on a 'date' with a Japanese guy I hardly knew-- this funky little guy named Taka who lived in the US for a couple of years. His English wasn't outstanding-- in particular, he overused the phrase 'too much'-- for example, Canadian and American girls are too much beautiful, American people are too much kindness. But otherwise we communicated all right. Anyway, he took me in his mom's car to Kitajima out for dinner-- I think he mostly wanted to practice his English. The restaurant was a place he used to work at, so the staff came out to visit and chat and have their portraits done by moi on the backs of reciepts. Taka confided that his girlfriend was too much beautiful, and that the next day he was going to tell her that he loved her for the first time, and that he was "too much scared, but good luck for me!" That's when I realized we weren't really on a 'date'. Anyway, after dinner he took me right home-- on the way I checked my cell phone and saw that Bubu had sent me a message: "Are you crazy? Do you want to make same mistakes as before? Do you know what I am talking about?" I didn't really, so I hopped it to his shop as soon as Taka dropped me off-- turns out Bubu and Haruko had seen me get into Taka's car (he had been parked in front of their shop) and they were both freaked out. Bubu lectured me for 1/2 an hour on how Japan isn't safe anymore, young people are dangerous and that I ought to be 'more carefully'. I was a little taken aback at first, but I did see the point of his admonishings; I really didn't know Taka very well, and riding in his car to who-knows-where was probably not the smartest thing to have done. At least I know that there are people who really care about me here.
Indigo Dyeing!
Yesterday Bubu took me out into the nearby countryside to try my hand at natural indigo dyeing, which the prefecture is famous for. I have to bring 'omiyage,' or prefectural gifts, to the Miyamotos in Tsukuba and the Umemuras in Sendai, so indigo seemed like a good idea-- even better if I had made it myself. It's done with the wax resist method-- painting on a white handerchief with a brush loaded with hot wax. Then the handerchief is dipped repeatedly into big concrete tubs filled with indigo dye-- I got to see the plants that make indigo. The process of getting the dye is quite complex, and I'd be curious to know who figured it out! The stems and flowers have to be carefully composted indoors for a certain amount of time until the resulting matter looks like cow dung; then cooked (?) in alkaline water to get the dye. Anyway, it was really fun and rustic-- the studio had a dirt-and-concrete floor, and the Dye Master was a fluffy-haired Japanese hippy, very gentle and earthy. I'm looking forward to going again.
Anyway-- I best get home and pack... I'm on Vacation countdown!!
Namaste
Endrene
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
Did you know that gekkos squeak? They do. There was one poor little baby guy next to the mailboxes inside my apartment building (or mansion, as they are euphimistically called in Japan) so I caught him and he squeak-squeak-squeaked as I carried him outside. Poor little booger. I mention this because I seem to be spending a lot more of my free time admiring and interacting with insects and animals than I do with people lately. One of my students has a pet shrimp named ebi-chan, and it sounds like a marvelously good idea.
Maybe I need to get out more.
Work has been great, although with the kids I am down to only two junior classes a week (my favorites) no senior classes (my second-favorites) and a whole load of kinder classes (my least favorites). The kinders are prone to pulling my hair out of a curious desire to know how foriengers react to pain. They also pee themselves, smash into each other while doing the hokey-pokey, cry, and pick their noses and then pet my hair. One little dude this week made it his mission to run his hand as far up my skirt as he could whenever I was trying to run crowd control on the other six kids. Wheeeee.
The weather has cooled considerably, enough that I can have the expensive air-conditioner off at night, and my deck-door open. I get to listen to the night-sounds of the bowling alley across the street and the screechy teenage boys singing as they walk home. Also-- is it my luck? Or is it a meaningful sign? I haven't lived anywhere in Japan that hasn't had construction going on nearby. There is another family 'mansion' being built right next door to my building, so I usually wake up at about 5am to the sounds of the trucks and cranes and hammers. Thankfully the noisy cicadas have decreased massively in number. However, they drop out of the sky to die on their backs... most of them die on my deck, I think. This grosses me out, as I am quite fond of live insects, but get really grossed out by dead ones. And these cicadas-- yuck! They look like giant brown houseflies. They're about 3.5 inches long and 1.5 inches wide. The live ones also like to land on my laundry as it is drying on the deck and leave a big poo on my whites. They haven't endeared themselves to me at all.
I can't wait to get to Sendai. I'll fly to Tokyo on the 13th and spend two days with the Miyamotos in Tsukuba, and then go on to Sendai on the 15th with my buddy Ume. We'll stay with her parents and have a reunion with the students that came to Canada in 1994. Hard to believe it's been 12 years since I've seen these people... my Japanese 'boyfriend' (former serious penpal) has since married and had a child. Another favorite of mine, Hiro, has become a well-known artist in Japan. Ume and I are going to go to his house and see his artwork. Perhaps I can do a little networking? Then Ume and her Mom and Dad and I are going to stay at a Ryokan (traditional Japanese inn) and enjoy an onsen. Mostly I'm looking forward to the opportunity to gain a little perspective; my contract evaluation is coming up alarmingly fast and I'll have to make decisions about whether I want to spend another year in Tokushima or...? I have many options. It's just a matter of taking the time to listen to my instincts and evaluate both my common and uncommon senses.
I've been spending a lot of time at Bubu's shop-- for you readers of Archie Comics, you'll know what I mean when I say that Bubu's is quite shockingly similar to Pop Tate's Chocklit Shoppe. Bubu is Pop, Miho is Betty, Kayo is Veronica, Takashige is Reggie, Yasu is Jughead. I guess that means that I am Archie! Bubu's family has been more than generous and kind to me. This Thursday he's planned yet another barbecue at his place for me and some of my Nova friends, as well as the Chocklit Shoppe crew. I can't wait-- so far, there isn't much (in my estimation) that can beat the taste of yaki nikku. As is the custom in Japan, I'll have to be sure to get some omiyage (gifts) for my friends and co-workers when I'm in Sendai. I asked Bubu and Haruko what they wanted and they both immediately pointed to their lolled-out tongues; apparently Sendai cow-tongue is a famous delicacy. Hard to believe, but I could be shelling out as much as 5000 yen for a couple of pounds of taste buds... I have no idea what makes Sendai tongue so special, but I guess I'll be finding out soon enough!
Here are my new Japanese words for this week:
motainai- what a waste! or it's too good for (that/him)
nan demo ii - anything is ok
itsu demo ii - anytime is ok
doko demo ii - anywhere is ok
joozu ja arimasen - I am not skilled
kimochii warui - bad feeling
kimochii - good feeling
Maybe I need to get out more.
Work has been great, although with the kids I am down to only two junior classes a week (my favorites) no senior classes (my second-favorites) and a whole load of kinder classes (my least favorites). The kinders are prone to pulling my hair out of a curious desire to know how foriengers react to pain. They also pee themselves, smash into each other while doing the hokey-pokey, cry, and pick their noses and then pet my hair. One little dude this week made it his mission to run his hand as far up my skirt as he could whenever I was trying to run crowd control on the other six kids. Wheeeee.
The weather has cooled considerably, enough that I can have the expensive air-conditioner off at night, and my deck-door open. I get to listen to the night-sounds of the bowling alley across the street and the screechy teenage boys singing as they walk home. Also-- is it my luck? Or is it a meaningful sign? I haven't lived anywhere in Japan that hasn't had construction going on nearby. There is another family 'mansion' being built right next door to my building, so I usually wake up at about 5am to the sounds of the trucks and cranes and hammers. Thankfully the noisy cicadas have decreased massively in number. However, they drop out of the sky to die on their backs... most of them die on my deck, I think. This grosses me out, as I am quite fond of live insects, but get really grossed out by dead ones. And these cicadas-- yuck! They look like giant brown houseflies. They're about 3.5 inches long and 1.5 inches wide. The live ones also like to land on my laundry as it is drying on the deck and leave a big poo on my whites. They haven't endeared themselves to me at all.
I can't wait to get to Sendai. I'll fly to Tokyo on the 13th and spend two days with the Miyamotos in Tsukuba, and then go on to Sendai on the 15th with my buddy Ume. We'll stay with her parents and have a reunion with the students that came to Canada in 1994. Hard to believe it's been 12 years since I've seen these people... my Japanese 'boyfriend' (former serious penpal) has since married and had a child. Another favorite of mine, Hiro, has become a well-known artist in Japan. Ume and I are going to go to his house and see his artwork. Perhaps I can do a little networking? Then Ume and her Mom and Dad and I are going to stay at a Ryokan (traditional Japanese inn) and enjoy an onsen. Mostly I'm looking forward to the opportunity to gain a little perspective; my contract evaluation is coming up alarmingly fast and I'll have to make decisions about whether I want to spend another year in Tokushima or...? I have many options. It's just a matter of taking the time to listen to my instincts and evaluate both my common and uncommon senses.
I've been spending a lot of time at Bubu's shop-- for you readers of Archie Comics, you'll know what I mean when I say that Bubu's is quite shockingly similar to Pop Tate's Chocklit Shoppe. Bubu is Pop, Miho is Betty, Kayo is Veronica, Takashige is Reggie, Yasu is Jughead. I guess that means that I am Archie! Bubu's family has been more than generous and kind to me. This Thursday he's planned yet another barbecue at his place for me and some of my Nova friends, as well as the Chocklit Shoppe crew. I can't wait-- so far, there isn't much (in my estimation) that can beat the taste of yaki nikku. As is the custom in Japan, I'll have to be sure to get some omiyage (gifts) for my friends and co-workers when I'm in Sendai. I asked Bubu and Haruko what they wanted and they both immediately pointed to their lolled-out tongues; apparently Sendai cow-tongue is a famous delicacy. Hard to believe, but I could be shelling out as much as 5000 yen for a couple of pounds of taste buds... I have no idea what makes Sendai tongue so special, but I guess I'll be finding out soon enough!
Here are my new Japanese words for this week:
motainai- what a waste! or it's too good for (that/him)
nan demo ii - anything is ok
itsu demo ii - anytime is ok
doko demo ii - anywhere is ok
joozu ja arimasen - I am not skilled
kimochii warui - bad feeling
kimochii - good feeling
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Monday, August 21, 2006
You would never know that an enormous festival happened here just a week ago. There are a few tell-tale remnants; uchiwa fans with beer ads on them moldering in the bushes, a few red and yellow lanterns still strung up near the beginning of the night district. Otherwise, Tokushima has recovered from the surge of humanity, and once again become the lazy backwater of a city that I know and love.
They are filming a movie in town; a love story called 'Bizan'. (The name of my favorite landmark of a mountain). The crew had set up a little stretch of street to look as though the Awa Odori was still going on, so it was nice to walk downtown and hear the familiar sounds of the awa music. Leading up to the festival, that was all you heard everywhere; biking through Tokushima park, every 15 meters, you'd come across another group practicing. I miss the sense of expectancy that filled the air... If I'm still here next year, I really would like to join an awa dance team (and for those of you familiar with my dance skills, keep the sniggering to a minimum!).
Work is still good; new students join up, and old students slowly stop coming-- every day as I'm pulling files to plan my lessons, I'll see the name of a student that I used to see almost every week, and now not at all. There used to be this one girl we nicknamed 'The Shark', since she was always prowling about with her business cards all ready to hand out to the first foreign person she came in contact with-- school policy dictates that we can't befriend the students, so avoiding her got to be quite challenging. She once followed me around the mall, until I finally lost her by hiding behind a rack of ball caps. She doesn't come anymore... I don't mind so much. But then there are those that I really miss. There was this one college student with anime hair and an infectious giggle-- I remember him well, because he came to my special presentation on Canada, and kept the Canadian flag sticker I gave to him stuck on his electronic dictionary from that point onward. We once did a lesson together on planning a day at a theme park-- it was fun imagining that we could actually be friends, organizing our day together at Tokyo Disneyland. Not being able to befriend the students sometimes makes brilliant good sense, and at other times infuriates me. I'll just play it safe, and stick to policy.
I went to my first beer garden the other night with the Japanese staff and Bani, Neil and Alex... it was a none-to-covert operation to try and talk Bani into staying in Tokushima. But what could we really say or do to change his mind? When someone feels that the challenge and adventure has gone out of a position or situation in life, what sense is there in staying on? I have to respect that. At any rate, the beer garden was nothing like the ones tossed together at festivals back home; it's a semi-permanent summer fixture on the roof of the Clement (Tokushima Station) building. For 2900 yen, it's all you can eat, all you can drink, self-serve fun. The beer machines are hilarious-- you put your glass down, and a little robotic table swings the glass into the correct pouring position, fills it seven-eighths full with beer, then squirts a disgusting topper of prefabricated head on top. Luckily Tomomi showed me the 'stop' button so I could avoid the icky foam. I made friends with a parcel of kids running around the garden (yes, kids in the beer garden) and they took me to the ice cream machine, and showed me how to work it-- with pedals, like a car. I then freaked them out by putting popcorn on my ice cream (they were out of rainbow sprinkles) and played with them as best our language barriers could allow. That meant: making funny faces, playing junken (rock-paper-scissors), and impressing them with my ability to read the Engrish on their t-Shirts. Tomomi repeatedly came to 'rescue' me so that I could come back to the table and drink more beer... but really, when it comes to having fun, the kids know what they're doing! My manager, Ayumi, wanted to make sure that I let the kids know that I was a Nova teacher. Always looking for the pitch...
They are filming a movie in town; a love story called 'Bizan'. (The name of my favorite landmark of a mountain). The crew had set up a little stretch of street to look as though the Awa Odori was still going on, so it was nice to walk downtown and hear the familiar sounds of the awa music. Leading up to the festival, that was all you heard everywhere; biking through Tokushima park, every 15 meters, you'd come across another group practicing. I miss the sense of expectancy that filled the air... If I'm still here next year, I really would like to join an awa dance team (and for those of you familiar with my dance skills, keep the sniggering to a minimum!).
Work is still good; new students join up, and old students slowly stop coming-- every day as I'm pulling files to plan my lessons, I'll see the name of a student that I used to see almost every week, and now not at all. There used to be this one girl we nicknamed 'The Shark', since she was always prowling about with her business cards all ready to hand out to the first foreign person she came in contact with-- school policy dictates that we can't befriend the students, so avoiding her got to be quite challenging. She once followed me around the mall, until I finally lost her by hiding behind a rack of ball caps. She doesn't come anymore... I don't mind so much. But then there are those that I really miss. There was this one college student with anime hair and an infectious giggle-- I remember him well, because he came to my special presentation on Canada, and kept the Canadian flag sticker I gave to him stuck on his electronic dictionary from that point onward. We once did a lesson together on planning a day at a theme park-- it was fun imagining that we could actually be friends, organizing our day together at Tokyo Disneyland. Not being able to befriend the students sometimes makes brilliant good sense, and at other times infuriates me. I'll just play it safe, and stick to policy.
I went to my first beer garden the other night with the Japanese staff and Bani, Neil and Alex... it was a none-to-covert operation to try and talk Bani into staying in Tokushima. But what could we really say or do to change his mind? When someone feels that the challenge and adventure has gone out of a position or situation in life, what sense is there in staying on? I have to respect that. At any rate, the beer garden was nothing like the ones tossed together at festivals back home; it's a semi-permanent summer fixture on the roof of the Clement (Tokushima Station) building. For 2900 yen, it's all you can eat, all you can drink, self-serve fun. The beer machines are hilarious-- you put your glass down, and a little robotic table swings the glass into the correct pouring position, fills it seven-eighths full with beer, then squirts a disgusting topper of prefabricated head on top. Luckily Tomomi showed me the 'stop' button so I could avoid the icky foam. I made friends with a parcel of kids running around the garden (yes, kids in the beer garden) and they took me to the ice cream machine, and showed me how to work it-- with pedals, like a car. I then freaked them out by putting popcorn on my ice cream (they were out of rainbow sprinkles) and played with them as best our language barriers could allow. That meant: making funny faces, playing junken (rock-paper-scissors), and impressing them with my ability to read the Engrish on their t-Shirts. Tomomi repeatedly came to 'rescue' me so that I could come back to the table and drink more beer... but really, when it comes to having fun, the kids know what they're doing! My manager, Ayumi, wanted to make sure that I let the kids know that I was a Nova teacher. Always looking for the pitch...
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Well, last night marked the end of Awa Odori. The past week (or has it been two?) has zipped by with such a speedy intensity that, looking back, I feel as though I am reviewing a short film documenting someone else's life. It has been nothing but exciting highlights and adventures, and meaningful mistakes, triumphs, and disappointments. Small acquaintances have become allies and incredible good friends, and some older relationships (if you can call anything only six months old 'old') have shifted, dried, and peeled away. My Japanese ability has scaled up one imperceptible (to most people) notch-- my proudest moment was when I was able to say that I couldn't buy shoes to go with my yukata because my feet are too big: "Getta nai; watashi no ashi tottemo nagai desu!". A whole sentence! Probably not 100% correct, but hey, one step at a time. I'm aware of how much learning a new language prompts a thirst for knowledge. If you're to learn anything at all from the people talking around you, you have to be sharply tuned in, like a child making the first connections between a word and an object, or a sentence and a feeling. Everything around you becomes subject to your wondering scrutiny: Can I read that sign before we've passed it? What did it mean? What's this fruit called? What did he say to me? Was it nice? What should I say to him?
Last night my friend Miho and I closed the last evening of the Awa Odori at the usual gaijin karoke haunt. It was Miho's first time there, and I was disappointed for her, as the proprietess has been brittle and tense lately. She stalked about like a discontented circus panther, and at one point came over and asked me in forced genial tones about how things were going. I said "You know, not bad.. I've been busy... you know how it is..." and she was very obviously not listening, so I remarked that she seemed fed up. Whereupon her face remembered that it was meant to smile and be full of kindness for every desperately lonely foreigner that comes in, and she brushed my remark aside with a no, no, no. I can't imagine having her job, or her world as my own. It must be very difficult to always be curious and charming, the perfect hostess. Especially when so many of the people that come in are clones of those that came before them; those who are lost and searching, those who want to prolong their demented youth, dreamers, hiders and seekers, and a whole lotta complainers. I really can't stand to go there more than once every couple of weeks now. Miho suggested that the next time we go out, we do a group-dating-thing common in Japan; four single gals and four single guys get together for an evening of dinner and getting to know one another. It's no secret that I find Japanese guys to be gorgeous creatures, so it sounds great to me; perhaps I will have another sentence or two up my sleeve by then!
Miho and I started the evening at a wicked Asian restaurant called KEN BAN-- I've passed it several times, wanting to go in, as it has great big windows looking out on to a narrow little night-district street, and as far as I'm concerned, there's a distinct lack of making the most of a good view around here. We got to sit right at the big window, and to our unbelievable good fortune, a really professional men's Awa dance team set up right outside. The music was 95% throbbing drums, so elemental and stirring that I was unable to even look at the food that came to the table. All the men were in white jimbes with yellow fans. Watching them move and flutter and crouch was unlike any other experience I have had with performance art-- if you can imagine a flock of monarch butterflies, all maniacally possessed with perfect intelligence and synchronicity and creativity, you might be getting close to what I saw and felt. The drums pounded; the men were encapsulated energy, perfect dancing representatives of delicious control and ferocious potential... I felt myself teeter on the knife's edge of that which is human and that which is animal.
The show from the air-conditioned interior of KEN BAN was by far the most stunning I have witnessed during the four-day run of Awa Odori. Not to say that there weren't other great moments; I made three evenings out of four, and happily got in on the 'free dances' whenever I came across them. On the first night I attended with Miho, Bubu and Mr. Mori-- Miho and I in yukata, and Mr. Mori equipped with his camera so as to capture the leaping graceless gaijin flap about in her pink and baby-blue summer kimono. I was pretty embarrassed that first night, and so had to have another go on my own the next night, riding my bike downtown in my navy yukata, and then slipping into the sweaty pounding anonymity of the crowd. I quickly located a free-dance circle. Instead of the usual cries of "Yatto sa, yatto sa... Yatto, yatto, yatto, YATTOooooo!", there was a Japanese rastafarian on the mic, hollering out lyrics to Bob Marley's 'Jammin' to the rhythm of the Awa music. This seemed like a good circle, so I hopped in, flapping my wrists and my uchiwa fan, and went around about three times before Battur, in his dance teams garb, located me. I joined him and his other Mongolian friend, and spent the next three hours going from free dance to free dance, all over the blocks and blocks of people-thronged streets. (Imagine the whole core of Vancouver shut down for a dance event). We stopped for chicken-on-a-stick (There must have been hundreds of yaki-tori stands set up in every available nook and cranny) and some tea, and then kept dancing. I left early, so as to get a good sleep and keep a fishing date for the next day with Bubu's family.
Which is another long story; and a fabulous one. One that involves boating out to an unoccupied island near Anan and setting up a camp with a party of eight, having a barbeque, swimming, and seeing the foreign girl (me) win the title of most successful fisherman. On one cast, I caught 3 fish on my line! "Oh! It's family!" remarked my fishing teacher/boat operator/friend. In the past two weeks, I've been into the Iya Valley and on the vine bridges with Travis and Yoshino, and into the city of Kochi to see their own Matsuri (festival) which, apparently rivals the Awa Odori; lost my glasses in a cement sewer, and magically recovered them the next day with a strand of wire; lost and found my plane tickets for my vacation to Sendai next month; met multitudes of people who want to practice their English on me (so I practice my Japanese on them); had long talks with Battur about his experiences in pre-and-post Communist Mongolia...
This season is one of fireworks and watermelon, cicadas and yukata. Colour, change, and celebration. I think about those butterflies of men, those perfect dancing animals, and realize how much I've changed myself. How I'm emerging from one life cycle and into the next, stretching my new wings in this season of heat and magic.
Last night my friend Miho and I closed the last evening of the Awa Odori at the usual gaijin karoke haunt. It was Miho's first time there, and I was disappointed for her, as the proprietess has been brittle and tense lately. She stalked about like a discontented circus panther, and at one point came over and asked me in forced genial tones about how things were going. I said "You know, not bad.. I've been busy... you know how it is..." and she was very obviously not listening, so I remarked that she seemed fed up. Whereupon her face remembered that it was meant to smile and be full of kindness for every desperately lonely foreigner that comes in, and she brushed my remark aside with a no, no, no. I can't imagine having her job, or her world as my own. It must be very difficult to always be curious and charming, the perfect hostess. Especially when so many of the people that come in are clones of those that came before them; those who are lost and searching, those who want to prolong their demented youth, dreamers, hiders and seekers, and a whole lotta complainers. I really can't stand to go there more than once every couple of weeks now. Miho suggested that the next time we go out, we do a group-dating-thing common in Japan; four single gals and four single guys get together for an evening of dinner and getting to know one another. It's no secret that I find Japanese guys to be gorgeous creatures, so it sounds great to me; perhaps I will have another sentence or two up my sleeve by then!
Miho and I started the evening at a wicked Asian restaurant called KEN BAN-- I've passed it several times, wanting to go in, as it has great big windows looking out on to a narrow little night-district street, and as far as I'm concerned, there's a distinct lack of making the most of a good view around here. We got to sit right at the big window, and to our unbelievable good fortune, a really professional men's Awa dance team set up right outside. The music was 95% throbbing drums, so elemental and stirring that I was unable to even look at the food that came to the table. All the men were in white jimbes with yellow fans. Watching them move and flutter and crouch was unlike any other experience I have had with performance art-- if you can imagine a flock of monarch butterflies, all maniacally possessed with perfect intelligence and synchronicity and creativity, you might be getting close to what I saw and felt. The drums pounded; the men were encapsulated energy, perfect dancing representatives of delicious control and ferocious potential... I felt myself teeter on the knife's edge of that which is human and that which is animal.
The show from the air-conditioned interior of KEN BAN was by far the most stunning I have witnessed during the four-day run of Awa Odori. Not to say that there weren't other great moments; I made three evenings out of four, and happily got in on the 'free dances' whenever I came across them. On the first night I attended with Miho, Bubu and Mr. Mori-- Miho and I in yukata, and Mr. Mori equipped with his camera so as to capture the leaping graceless gaijin flap about in her pink and baby-blue summer kimono. I was pretty embarrassed that first night, and so had to have another go on my own the next night, riding my bike downtown in my navy yukata, and then slipping into the sweaty pounding anonymity of the crowd. I quickly located a free-dance circle. Instead of the usual cries of "Yatto sa, yatto sa... Yatto, yatto, yatto, YATTOooooo!", there was a Japanese rastafarian on the mic, hollering out lyrics to Bob Marley's 'Jammin' to the rhythm of the Awa music. This seemed like a good circle, so I hopped in, flapping my wrists and my uchiwa fan, and went around about three times before Battur, in his dance teams garb, located me. I joined him and his other Mongolian friend, and spent the next three hours going from free dance to free dance, all over the blocks and blocks of people-thronged streets. (Imagine the whole core of Vancouver shut down for a dance event). We stopped for chicken-on-a-stick (There must have been hundreds of yaki-tori stands set up in every available nook and cranny) and some tea, and then kept dancing. I left early, so as to get a good sleep and keep a fishing date for the next day with Bubu's family.
Which is another long story; and a fabulous one. One that involves boating out to an unoccupied island near Anan and setting up a camp with a party of eight, having a barbeque, swimming, and seeing the foreign girl (me) win the title of most successful fisherman. On one cast, I caught 3 fish on my line! "Oh! It's family!" remarked my fishing teacher/boat operator/friend. In the past two weeks, I've been into the Iya Valley and on the vine bridges with Travis and Yoshino, and into the city of Kochi to see their own Matsuri (festival) which, apparently rivals the Awa Odori; lost my glasses in a cement sewer, and magically recovered them the next day with a strand of wire; lost and found my plane tickets for my vacation to Sendai next month; met multitudes of people who want to practice their English on me (so I practice my Japanese on them); had long talks with Battur about his experiences in pre-and-post Communist Mongolia...
This season is one of fireworks and watermelon, cicadas and yukata. Colour, change, and celebration. I think about those butterflies of men, those perfect dancing animals, and realize how much I've changed myself. How I'm emerging from one life cycle and into the next, stretching my new wings in this season of heat and magic.
Monday, August 07, 2006
Another hot hot hot day. I take back what I said earlier about people not being allowed to complain... when it's 38 degrees C and humid and your company's dress code states that you must be in a business suit with a jacket at all times, I think you've earned a little complaining leeway. Luckily, as a woman, I can get away with wearing skirts and pantyhose, which are infinitely cooler than slacks, shoes, socks. Thank God. Or thank Nova. I've been here long enough now that there doesn't seem to be much difference between the two. Especially if we're talking an Old-Testament, vengeful, all-powerful, all-knowing & seeing God.
Ahem. Are you reading this, Nova? Of course you are.
Anyway, the city is getting scrubbed up for Awa Odori, and it's looking about as good as I suppose it ever will. Women in head-to-toe sun-protective gardening garb have been wading through the shrubberies, plucking out weeds and vending machine coffee cans and abandoned bicycles. Workers have been building grandstands and hanging yellow and red lanterns from every available streetlight and palm tree. There's a palapable hum in the air as people discuss what they're looking forward to (drinking and dancing on the street! the best yaki-tori and tako-yaki! rowing a boat in the Shin-Machi river!) and what they're going to wear; Maz has already painted her toenails to match the yukata she'll don. My head is spinning a little... I really don't have a clue about what it will be like... but from what I hear, it gets crazy. Apparently, this is one of THE Best Festivals in Japan. (Many people have assured me of this; even Japanese people who don't live here, and have never attended). I've got a day off, a new yukata, and some money. I'm sure it will be fun, no matter what happens.
Ahem. Are you reading this, Nova? Of course you are.
Anyway, the city is getting scrubbed up for Awa Odori, and it's looking about as good as I suppose it ever will. Women in head-to-toe sun-protective gardening garb have been wading through the shrubberies, plucking out weeds and vending machine coffee cans and abandoned bicycles. Workers have been building grandstands and hanging yellow and red lanterns from every available streetlight and palm tree. There's a palapable hum in the air as people discuss what they're looking forward to (drinking and dancing on the street! the best yaki-tori and tako-yaki! rowing a boat in the Shin-Machi river!) and what they're going to wear; Maz has already painted her toenails to match the yukata she'll don. My head is spinning a little... I really don't have a clue about what it will be like... but from what I hear, it gets crazy. Apparently, this is one of THE Best Festivals in Japan. (Many people have assured me of this; even Japanese people who don't live here, and have never attended). I've got a day off, a new yukata, and some money. I'm sure it will be fun, no matter what happens.
Sunday, August 06, 2006
Get this: Beach season ENDS next week. They'll take down all the lovely beach shacks with their change rooms and hot-dogs and ice-cold beers, and people won't come to the beach anymore. Because it's over. Really. No matter that it'll be 30 degrees Celsius plus well into September... because BEACH SEASON IS OVER. And we Follow the Rules. Unless you're a surf-nut, or a crazy gaijin, like me. And I have been enjoying the beach, veryvery much, and will be sad to see all those lovely Japanese guys take their Hello Kitty beach umbrellas and their inflatable, water-craft-towable bananas (which they bounce upon joyfully as they are towed repeatedly by the beach), and their purple shorts and pink sandals, and get back into their business suits and their air-conditioned offices. Metero-sexuality is alive and well, in Japan, folks. In case you were wondering.
I've been having a blast lately; I went to a Yaki-Nikku (BBQ) party with my friend Miho and her classmates to celebrate the beginning of their summer vacation. I ate piece after piece of hot lovely beef, peeled straight off the grill and deposited directly into my personal bowl of sauce, corn, eggplant, onion, onigiri (rice balls), skipped rocks on the beach, learned a few new Japanese comedy routines (I can now make the kanji for 'life' with my body, which is apparently hilarious) and took photo after photo. The evening culminated with tossing the drunkest guy into the sea, and an especially careless and dangerous fireworks display, which was exhiliratingly, stupidly fun. I myself was a bit of a party favour-- kind of like when someone brings their new puppy to a party. I'd get played with until one person's English supply was exhausted (or they were exhausted by my poor Japanese), and then I'd get passed on. Kind of fun. It left me just outside of things enough that I could really enjoy and appreciate the dynamics of the group-- the way they helped each other in every situation, especially when things needed to be cleaned up or work needed to be done.
I've also recently gone bowling with a Mongolian (truth) and been over to Bubu's a few times for dinner. He told me recently that he is my father while I am in Japan, and his house is my house too. I was very deeply touched... I took my Mongolian friend, Battur (or Mong-Chan as Bubu is now calling him) over to Bubu's the other night when Miho was making curry, and we all traded animal noises... surprise, surprise. Everyone loves animal noises! Mong-Chan didn't understand at first that we wanted to hear the 'children's' animals sounds-- the simple ones for kids, like Oink or Quack or Moo. So he was making some quite realistic noises! Eventually he understood-- all I remember is that cows go "Mmm-bu" in Mongolian. Battur is here in Tokushima studying medicine at Tokushima University. The university has quite a high international student population, and we English teachers occaisionally cross paths them at TOPIA- the international center, or at the real international center, Ingrid's karaoke bar.
At any rate, Neil has just phoned me with the promise of adult beverages and English conversation. No animal noises for me tonight! Until next time...
Namaste
Endrene
I've been having a blast lately; I went to a Yaki-Nikku (BBQ) party with my friend Miho and her classmates to celebrate the beginning of their summer vacation. I ate piece after piece of hot lovely beef, peeled straight off the grill and deposited directly into my personal bowl of sauce, corn, eggplant, onion, onigiri (rice balls), skipped rocks on the beach, learned a few new Japanese comedy routines (I can now make the kanji for 'life' with my body, which is apparently hilarious) and took photo after photo. The evening culminated with tossing the drunkest guy into the sea, and an especially careless and dangerous fireworks display, which was exhiliratingly, stupidly fun. I myself was a bit of a party favour-- kind of like when someone brings their new puppy to a party. I'd get played with until one person's English supply was exhausted (or they were exhausted by my poor Japanese), and then I'd get passed on. Kind of fun. It left me just outside of things enough that I could really enjoy and appreciate the dynamics of the group-- the way they helped each other in every situation, especially when things needed to be cleaned up or work needed to be done.
I've also recently gone bowling with a Mongolian (truth) and been over to Bubu's a few times for dinner. He told me recently that he is my father while I am in Japan, and his house is my house too. I was very deeply touched... I took my Mongolian friend, Battur (or Mong-Chan as Bubu is now calling him) over to Bubu's the other night when Miho was making curry, and we all traded animal noises... surprise, surprise. Everyone loves animal noises! Mong-Chan didn't understand at first that we wanted to hear the 'children's' animals sounds-- the simple ones for kids, like Oink or Quack or Moo. So he was making some quite realistic noises! Eventually he understood-- all I remember is that cows go "Mmm-bu" in Mongolian. Battur is here in Tokushima studying medicine at Tokushima University. The university has quite a high international student population, and we English teachers occaisionally cross paths them at TOPIA- the international center, or at the real international center, Ingrid's karaoke bar.
At any rate, Neil has just phoned me with the promise of adult beverages and English conversation. No animal noises for me tonight! Until next time...
Namaste
Endrene
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
I was perusing Shonas blog and found this! A picture of BuBu's shop window, with Mr. Yakuza looking out! http://shonaoconnell.blogspot.com/2005_08_01_shonaoconnell_archive.html
An average day:
Wake up. Roll around on the futon for a while. Sniff the futon. Wonder if the weather is clear enough so that the futon can hang out and air on the balcony for a while.
Get up. Open the sliding door that connects my air-conditioned bedroom/living/dining room to my sticky-hot hallyway-bathroom-kitchen-foyer-closet. Sniff the shower-bath-toilet. Wonder why it never smells clean, even though I scrub it every other day. Shower; look at the waterproof hiragana chart stuck to the shower-bath-toilet wall. Hope that a new letter sticks permanantly in my brain. Dry off. Use a sparing amount of sunscreen from home, and then coat up the rest of my body in the suspicious 'Whitening UV' formula from Japan. There's no UV number on the bottle, and I've heard that some of the whitening products have bleach in them...
Dress. Look in fridge: tofu, natto, soggy cucumbers, condiments. Consider options briefly. Decide to get an onigiri and an iced coffee from a combini (convienience store). Step out of apartment into the wall of wet heat and insect noise. Carefully look about for the landlady who berated me in Japanese for 5 minutes about leaving through the side door before leaving through the side door. Make sure the side door is properly closed, just in case she's hiding in the bushes across the street.
Ride my famous blue Crispy downtown. Pretend not to notice the old guys who stare as though a large purple rabbit is similtaneously burping flames and doing a handstand as it rides past them. Go to the bank. The bank staff yell a cheery 'Irashaimasen!' as the ATM says the same. Work as quickly as possible, as the ATM beeps maniacally if I pause for more than 2 seconds to scratch your nose or think about budgets. Go to Big Brothers, eat the mini-special (soupsandwichsaladfriesdessertcoffee) and gossip with Norm, Keith or Brad. Or chit-chat with whoever is sitting next to me. If the person is Japanese, the chit-chat will amount to: where are you from, how long have you been in Japan, how long will you stay in Japan, do you like Japan, and if we're feeling really friendly, we might progress to animal noises. "Cows say Moo. Cats say Meow. Dogs say Woof. How about here?" "Cows say Mo. Cats say Niao. Dogs say Wan." (And my recent discovery-- I knew rabbits go 'Pion-Pion-Pion' when they bounce in Japan, but when I told my friends they go 'Boing-Boing-Boing' in English, they cracked up. Why? Because 'Boing-Boing' is the sound for large breasts in Japan. Yes. Breasts have sound effects here...) If the person is English speaking, the conversation will be exactly the same, except we might compare the policies of our Eiken schools instead of 'Cock-a-doodle-do' and 'Ko-ki-ko-kou'. Pay. Leave.
Check email and post a blog and/or go to work. Meet the student who was thrilled by the public trash system in Canada-- garbage bins on the STREET? What an amazing concept! Teach the kindergartners who hug your legs and pet your hair and then spit on your hand instead of giving you a high-five. Become enthralled by people, sights, sounds, food, experience. Discover a new path, or a secret alleyway. Realize over and over that there is no such thing as an average day.
This took me long enough, but here is my former co-workers blog address: http://shonaoconnell.blogspot.com/ Shona has since been to Europe, and is now back in Australia... but if you go to her archives, and look at February, there are some hopelessly outdated pictures of me and some of the people I mention in this blog.
Wake up. Roll around on the futon for a while. Sniff the futon. Wonder if the weather is clear enough so that the futon can hang out and air on the balcony for a while.
Get up. Open the sliding door that connects my air-conditioned bedroom/living/dining room to my sticky-hot hallyway-bathroom-kitchen-foyer-closet. Sniff the shower-bath-toilet. Wonder why it never smells clean, even though I scrub it every other day. Shower; look at the waterproof hiragana chart stuck to the shower-bath-toilet wall. Hope that a new letter sticks permanantly in my brain. Dry off. Use a sparing amount of sunscreen from home, and then coat up the rest of my body in the suspicious 'Whitening UV' formula from Japan. There's no UV number on the bottle, and I've heard that some of the whitening products have bleach in them...
Dress. Look in fridge: tofu, natto, soggy cucumbers, condiments. Consider options briefly. Decide to get an onigiri and an iced coffee from a combini (convienience store). Step out of apartment into the wall of wet heat and insect noise. Carefully look about for the landlady who berated me in Japanese for 5 minutes about leaving through the side door before leaving through the side door. Make sure the side door is properly closed, just in case she's hiding in the bushes across the street.
Ride my famous blue Crispy downtown. Pretend not to notice the old guys who stare as though a large purple rabbit is similtaneously burping flames and doing a handstand as it rides past them. Go to the bank. The bank staff yell a cheery 'Irashaimasen!' as the ATM says the same. Work as quickly as possible, as the ATM beeps maniacally if I pause for more than 2 seconds to scratch your nose or think about budgets. Go to Big Brothers, eat the mini-special (soupsandwichsaladfriesdessertcoffee) and gossip with Norm, Keith or Brad. Or chit-chat with whoever is sitting next to me. If the person is Japanese, the chit-chat will amount to: where are you from, how long have you been in Japan, how long will you stay in Japan, do you like Japan, and if we're feeling really friendly, we might progress to animal noises. "Cows say Moo. Cats say Meow. Dogs say Woof. How about here?" "Cows say Mo. Cats say Niao. Dogs say Wan." (And my recent discovery-- I knew rabbits go 'Pion-Pion-Pion' when they bounce in Japan, but when I told my friends they go 'Boing-Boing-Boing' in English, they cracked up. Why? Because 'Boing-Boing' is the sound for large breasts in Japan. Yes. Breasts have sound effects here...) If the person is English speaking, the conversation will be exactly the same, except we might compare the policies of our Eiken schools instead of 'Cock-a-doodle-do' and 'Ko-ki-ko-kou'. Pay. Leave.
Check email and post a blog and/or go to work. Meet the student who was thrilled by the public trash system in Canada-- garbage bins on the STREET? What an amazing concept! Teach the kindergartners who hug your legs and pet your hair and then spit on your hand instead of giving you a high-five. Become enthralled by people, sights, sounds, food, experience. Discover a new path, or a secret alleyway. Realize over and over that there is no such thing as an average day.
This took me long enough, but here is my former co-workers blog address: http://shonaoconnell.blogspot.com/ Shona has since been to Europe, and is now back in Australia... but if you go to her archives, and look at February, there are some hopelessly outdated pictures of me and some of the people I mention in this blog.
Sunday, July 30, 2006
First, to answer lady K's question, no, I didn't catch an eel. The saying 'slippery as an eel' is directly applicable. But one little girl kept catching them over and over... however, I think she was squeezing the living daylights out of them. Their poor wee eel eyes were bugging out of their slimy heads! As much as I enjoy eating them, I didn't want to hurt them. If that makes any sense.
Today is palm-tree trimming day in the downtown city parks. They've got a crane, and they don't seem to know when to stop... the first few look like very badly shaven poodles. Only about 4 fronds left sticking off the top! I suppose it's in part for safety reasons. Awa Odori will be happening in a couple of weeks, and when this city is filled with throngs of people, you don't want someone getting bonked on the head by a coconut or whacked by a mingy old palm frond.
Speaking of Awa Odori, I've had my first couple of stabs at trying Awa dancing. Rhythm never have beeing my strong point, I can safely say that I suck. However, it is enormous fun! My first try was at the gallery when I went out to Kamiita to see the art show. Tommy Yu was there with his samisen and his samisen master, and another fellow who could play the flute, and two little boys, aged four and five. Those two would take turns banging on the ding-ding-ding instrument (integral to Awa music, you see) and doing the step-step-step dance with wrists flapping madly above their heads. Some sort of television crew for the local news was there, filming both the art show and the impromptu concert. I stood back and amusedly took in this darling circus act, until Mr. Flute insisted that I try too. Insisted adamantly. So I did, and really, the four-year-old was absolutely the better dancer. After the music ended, I thanked him, calling him sensei. This pleased him so much that he and his brother showed me the frog and the large beetle that they had caught. I was, of course, honoured.
Awa dance adventure II was just two nights ago; this past weekend saw the Yoshinogawa festival set up camp for three days at the base of the bridge I cross to go to work. On Saturday night I immersed myself in the buzzing crowds with my camera and got some amazing pictures. Girls in yukata, laughing teenagers, a huge stage and free concerts. Little kids hugging blow-up toys of giant shiny beetles (beetles are a boy's best friend in Japan). Squid-on-stick, octopus balls, families and business men and giggling women surrounding the blazing grills on each table. Each grill was filled with glowing coals supplied by gorgeous sweaty young men who were fanning the fires over by the 'get-your-red-hot-grill-here' tent. Jon managed to pick me out of the crowd (the only natural blond in sight, I suppose) and introduced me to his student who was working in the beer tent, who in turn, introduced me to some free beer. Eventually Denise found us in the crowd as well, and the three of us watched the fireworks together. An interesting experience, as all the floodlights on the field were turned off so we could get the full effect of the colourful blasts, but the entire show was annoyingly commentated. Enjoy, but don't form your own opinions about what you are seeing... that was my impression, anyway. After the lights came back on, an Awa dance show started up on the stage, and Andy and Maz came filtering through the crowd to find us. I couldn't stop wiggling through the show! The drums are just so... engaging. After the last troupe danced off the stage, they spread throughout the crowd and continued to play the music... one guy ended up near me, and of course, I lept at the opportunity to try the male form of the dance (the little boys at the gallery had been doing the girl-style dancing). Lots of squatting and leaping and more wrist-twisting. Excellent fun. At any rate, I am very excited about the upcoming festival.
Regarding the beetles... I have never seen so many insects in my LIFE. Everwhere I turn I see a new kind of butterfly, blue, green, black, yellow, white, or a different beetle or a bigger spider (saw one freakishly huge one in an onsen a couple of weeks ago... damn thing had the leg span of a dinner plate). The most interesting of the insects are the cicadas... I wake of every morning to hear their incredibly loud electric song. Check this out if you want to hear them too: http://homepage2.nifty.com/saisho/cicadasong_e.html When I was arriving at the gallery last week, walking through the garden I saw this huge sparrow flying very mechanically towards me; I ducked as it passed and it tried to fly up under some stairs, presumably to get to its nest. When it couldn't get a foothold, it let out this angry prehistoric SQUAWK that made it very clear that it was not a sparrow. One more giant bug, come to dazzle me with its fearsomeness! Who knew bugs could squawk?
Namaste
Endrene
Today is palm-tree trimming day in the downtown city parks. They've got a crane, and they don't seem to know when to stop... the first few look like very badly shaven poodles. Only about 4 fronds left sticking off the top! I suppose it's in part for safety reasons. Awa Odori will be happening in a couple of weeks, and when this city is filled with throngs of people, you don't want someone getting bonked on the head by a coconut or whacked by a mingy old palm frond.
Speaking of Awa Odori, I've had my first couple of stabs at trying Awa dancing. Rhythm never have beeing my strong point, I can safely say that I suck. However, it is enormous fun! My first try was at the gallery when I went out to Kamiita to see the art show. Tommy Yu was there with his samisen and his samisen master, and another fellow who could play the flute, and two little boys, aged four and five. Those two would take turns banging on the ding-ding-ding instrument (integral to Awa music, you see) and doing the step-step-step dance with wrists flapping madly above their heads. Some sort of television crew for the local news was there, filming both the art show and the impromptu concert. I stood back and amusedly took in this darling circus act, until Mr. Flute insisted that I try too. Insisted adamantly. So I did, and really, the four-year-old was absolutely the better dancer. After the music ended, I thanked him, calling him sensei. This pleased him so much that he and his brother showed me the frog and the large beetle that they had caught. I was, of course, honoured.
Awa dance adventure II was just two nights ago; this past weekend saw the Yoshinogawa festival set up camp for three days at the base of the bridge I cross to go to work. On Saturday night I immersed myself in the buzzing crowds with my camera and got some amazing pictures. Girls in yukata, laughing teenagers, a huge stage and free concerts. Little kids hugging blow-up toys of giant shiny beetles (beetles are a boy's best friend in Japan). Squid-on-stick, octopus balls, families and business men and giggling women surrounding the blazing grills on each table. Each grill was filled with glowing coals supplied by gorgeous sweaty young men who were fanning the fires over by the 'get-your-red-hot-grill-here' tent. Jon managed to pick me out of the crowd (the only natural blond in sight, I suppose) and introduced me to his student who was working in the beer tent, who in turn, introduced me to some free beer. Eventually Denise found us in the crowd as well, and the three of us watched the fireworks together. An interesting experience, as all the floodlights on the field were turned off so we could get the full effect of the colourful blasts, but the entire show was annoyingly commentated. Enjoy, but don't form your own opinions about what you are seeing... that was my impression, anyway. After the lights came back on, an Awa dance show started up on the stage, and Andy and Maz came filtering through the crowd to find us. I couldn't stop wiggling through the show! The drums are just so... engaging. After the last troupe danced off the stage, they spread throughout the crowd and continued to play the music... one guy ended up near me, and of course, I lept at the opportunity to try the male form of the dance (the little boys at the gallery had been doing the girl-style dancing). Lots of squatting and leaping and more wrist-twisting. Excellent fun. At any rate, I am very excited about the upcoming festival.
Regarding the beetles... I have never seen so many insects in my LIFE. Everwhere I turn I see a new kind of butterfly, blue, green, black, yellow, white, or a different beetle or a bigger spider (saw one freakishly huge one in an onsen a couple of weeks ago... damn thing had the leg span of a dinner plate). The most interesting of the insects are the cicadas... I wake of every morning to hear their incredibly loud electric song. Check this out if you want to hear them too: http://homepage2.nifty.com/saisho/cicadasong_e.html When I was arriving at the gallery last week, walking through the garden I saw this huge sparrow flying very mechanically towards me; I ducked as it passed and it tried to fly up under some stairs, presumably to get to its nest. When it couldn't get a foothold, it let out this angry prehistoric SQUAWK that made it very clear that it was not a sparrow. One more giant bug, come to dazzle me with its fearsomeness! Who knew bugs could squawk?
Namaste
Endrene
Monday, July 24, 2006
Please come to FURIKAERU:
Another Look at Tokushima
Tuesday, July 25th- Saturday, July 30th
10am-6pm
WAZA NO YAKATA, Kamiita
088-637-6555
This art show features four foriegn artists, both living in and inspired by Tokushima. Michael Liska: Photography. Endrene Shepherd: Watercolours and Pen & Ink. Amy Sturgeon: Oils. Tommy Yu: Watercolours. From Ishii town, take route 34 north to Kamiita. Go straight and pass Itano's fire station, and temple #5. Turn left at the next stoplight and continue for about 2 km. Waza no Yakata is on the left.
************************************************************
OK, so if you're not in Japan, I'll forgive you for not attending. I have yet to make it out to see the show myself, but the gallery is just stunning (Mike showed me some photos from last year's show) and I am amazed by my unbelievable good fortune in being included. I was expecting a semi-abandoned warehouse, but this is a gallery, folks. Huge expanses of pristine white walls and hardwood floors. Wow! Also, major kudos go out to my framers, GINCHO. For about $600 CDN, 18 pieces of artwork were matted and framed professionally and delivered to Kamiita. Beat that!
Another busy week has passed. I'm thinking about taking on a private student; a five-year-old who spent the last two years in the USA. I can't imagine a better situation for my first private; someone I can play with! Play to learn, and learn to play, that's my motto... I'm meeting his dad tomorrow for lunch and an interview.
This past week EARTHQUAKES have been brought up eerily often. I had been thinking about how someone had said that the next 'big one' was meant to have it's epicenter in Shikoku when Ume phoned and said that her dad was worried about me, and wanted to be sure I knew where to go in case of an emergency. Chad emailed me and asked about earthquakes. And then: Yoshino's latest 'adventure' was to take me to the Tokushima Prefectural Fire Training Academy and the free disaster prepardness center, ostensibly, 'for fun'. I sat through three scary and unintelligible short films about tsunamis, earthquakes, fires and typhoons. Then I got to go into the earthquake simulator and have the living daylights scared out of me. We also tried putting out a fake fire caused by a paper airplane getting stuck in an electric heater, ran through smoky corridors to escape from another fake fire, and went in a wind room to feel the potential force of a typhoon. I also got photos of Yoshino getting frisky with a CPR dummy. But it was the earthquake room that had the greatest effect on me... I have since put together my emergency kit, and am trying to register with the Canadian embassy, just-in-case. I've also taken my stereo off of its wobbly pedstal and put it on the floor. Now let's hope that my precautions won't come in handy.
After work last night I biked to Bubu's house after he sent me a message reading "sashimi sashimi! shochu shochu! come come! right now! ASAP!". I arrived to find Bubu, Haruko, Eri, Miho and Mr. Yakuza (don't know his real name, but Bubu always teases him about looking like a gangster). Lots of fresh tai (snapper), jaga nikku, various salads, special edamame that smelled like green tea, and peaches with maple syrup (thanks mom) for dessert! Bubu showed me the letter he had written to thank my mom and dad for the gifts they'd sent, and said that he hadn't sent it yet because he was dissatisfied with it. (I thought it was quite nice). Then, being quite drunk, he ran upstairs to get an expensive obi to show me his family emblem (Stylized butterfly). When I gushed about it, he and Haruko took me upstairs and started pulling out boxes of carefully wrapped kimono and obi to show me... two, having belonged to his mother (and perhaps her mother before her) were mindblowingly detailed, stitched in gold with images of ancient Japanese daily life. One obi was worth in excess of 200,000 yen. Haruko had never worn them, claiming they were new to her, and only to be worn on happy occaisions. I assured her that she could wear one of them to my wedding (whenever that may be)! Back down at the dinner table, everyone began asking me if I had eaten unagi (eel) on sunday. Of course! It was National Eat Eel Day, so I would be missing out on some cultural experience if I didn't eat eel! This day is always planned to fall on what has been historically, the hottest day of the year in Japan. Barbequed eel is quite oily, and is meant to give one energy during the heady days of summer. Outside the supermarket at Fugi Grand, there was even a kiddie pool filled with terrified eels swimming for their lives as little children tried to grab them. Of course, I had to try too... I'm sure I presented quite a spectacle to the surrounding adults. Six children on their knees splashing in the eel pool; 5 little Japanese ones, and one great big blonde one!
Another Look at Tokushima
Tuesday, July 25th- Saturday, July 30th
10am-6pm
WAZA NO YAKATA, Kamiita
088-637-6555
This art show features four foriegn artists, both living in and inspired by Tokushima. Michael Liska: Photography. Endrene Shepherd: Watercolours and Pen & Ink. Amy Sturgeon: Oils. Tommy Yu: Watercolours. From Ishii town, take route 34 north to Kamiita. Go straight and pass Itano's fire station, and temple #5. Turn left at the next stoplight and continue for about 2 km. Waza no Yakata is on the left.
************************************************************
OK, so if you're not in Japan, I'll forgive you for not attending. I have yet to make it out to see the show myself, but the gallery is just stunning (Mike showed me some photos from last year's show) and I am amazed by my unbelievable good fortune in being included. I was expecting a semi-abandoned warehouse, but this is a gallery, folks. Huge expanses of pristine white walls and hardwood floors. Wow! Also, major kudos go out to my framers, GINCHO. For about $600 CDN, 18 pieces of artwork were matted and framed professionally and delivered to Kamiita. Beat that!
Another busy week has passed. I'm thinking about taking on a private student; a five-year-old who spent the last two years in the USA. I can't imagine a better situation for my first private; someone I can play with! Play to learn, and learn to play, that's my motto... I'm meeting his dad tomorrow for lunch and an interview.
This past week EARTHQUAKES have been brought up eerily often. I had been thinking about how someone had said that the next 'big one' was meant to have it's epicenter in Shikoku when Ume phoned and said that her dad was worried about me, and wanted to be sure I knew where to go in case of an emergency. Chad emailed me and asked about earthquakes. And then: Yoshino's latest 'adventure' was to take me to the Tokushima Prefectural Fire Training Academy and the free disaster prepardness center, ostensibly, 'for fun'. I sat through three scary and unintelligible short films about tsunamis, earthquakes, fires and typhoons. Then I got to go into the earthquake simulator and have the living daylights scared out of me. We also tried putting out a fake fire caused by a paper airplane getting stuck in an electric heater, ran through smoky corridors to escape from another fake fire, and went in a wind room to feel the potential force of a typhoon. I also got photos of Yoshino getting frisky with a CPR dummy. But it was the earthquake room that had the greatest effect on me... I have since put together my emergency kit, and am trying to register with the Canadian embassy, just-in-case. I've also taken my stereo off of its wobbly pedstal and put it on the floor. Now let's hope that my precautions won't come in handy.
After work last night I biked to Bubu's house after he sent me a message reading "sashimi sashimi! shochu shochu! come come! right now! ASAP!". I arrived to find Bubu, Haruko, Eri, Miho and Mr. Yakuza (don't know his real name, but Bubu always teases him about looking like a gangster). Lots of fresh tai (snapper), jaga nikku, various salads, special edamame that smelled like green tea, and peaches with maple syrup (thanks mom) for dessert! Bubu showed me the letter he had written to thank my mom and dad for the gifts they'd sent, and said that he hadn't sent it yet because he was dissatisfied with it. (I thought it was quite nice). Then, being quite drunk, he ran upstairs to get an expensive obi to show me his family emblem (Stylized butterfly). When I gushed about it, he and Haruko took me upstairs and started pulling out boxes of carefully wrapped kimono and obi to show me... two, having belonged to his mother (and perhaps her mother before her) were mindblowingly detailed, stitched in gold with images of ancient Japanese daily life. One obi was worth in excess of 200,000 yen. Haruko had never worn them, claiming they were new to her, and only to be worn on happy occaisions. I assured her that she could wear one of them to my wedding (whenever that may be)! Back down at the dinner table, everyone began asking me if I had eaten unagi (eel) on sunday. Of course! It was National Eat Eel Day, so I would be missing out on some cultural experience if I didn't eat eel! This day is always planned to fall on what has been historically, the hottest day of the year in Japan. Barbequed eel is quite oily, and is meant to give one energy during the heady days of summer. Outside the supermarket at Fugi Grand, there was even a kiddie pool filled with terrified eels swimming for their lives as little children tried to grab them. Of course, I had to try too... I'm sure I presented quite a spectacle to the surrounding adults. Six children on their knees splashing in the eel pool; 5 little Japanese ones, and one great big blonde one!
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
One more wild week gone by... thank goodness. I've been sick the last few days with food poisoning; but seeing as that is part of the end of my week and I want to tell you about the beginning, we'll leave that subject for now.
Last friday, Yoshino had yet another adventure planned. As far as I knew, it involved swimming. He gave me the option of Beach or River. I chose River, seeing as I'd been beaching it up on my own lately. Anyway, as the day invariably does with Yoshino, it stretched out and out, and will from here-on be remembered as 'Endrene's Wettest Day Ever'. We started out slowly, stopping in a few curio shops that Yoshino was interested in, and a sports store where I purchased a new mask and snorkle. By the time we started zooming out into the countryside and into the mountains, a vicious-looking thunder-storm was moving in all around us. It sarted to rain. By this time, I was determined that we were going swimming, thunder, lightening, and rain be damned. We drove on and on and on, until the jungly roads became nearly impassable for one car-- nevermind two. I started to think, "gee... they're going to have a hard time recovering my body if the car goes over this cliff here..." when finially Yoshino was satisfied with our location and stopped. No river in sight-- oh wait, there it is, over the side of this embankment! Big boulders puncuated a friendly-looking, medium-speed river, flanked on all sides by a richly green, narrow valley. So down we clambered, through razor-grass as tall as me (I still have the scratches on my ankles and on my arms to prove it) and struggled to get across the slippery rocks... thank goodness I didn't take any electronic equipment with me that day, as I had an opportunity to test my flexibility, doing the splits across the rocks, and falling completely in with my clothes on three times before making it across! The swimming itself was peaceful and uneventful-- the water was quite scummy, and not a lot of fish to see, aside from a few sculpins. Then-- the heavens opened! The storm hit in earnest, shaking the high tropical valley with a terrifying force. Yoshino scuttled under a boulder with only my wet towel to keep his miniscule frame warm, while I stubbornly kept swimming... counting the time between flashes and rolls of thunder, until the lightening was cracking right over our heads. At which point I also scuttled under the boulder. We gave up shortly thereafter, trudging back up to the car. I had no change of clothes, so he furnished my chair with a deflated air mattress to protect his apolstrey, and off we went. After a difficult exchange, both of us tripping over each other's native tongues, I believed we had come to an agreement to go to an onsen. "Ahhh, hot water...." I was dreaming! First, we went to a shrine/temple, waa-a-a-a-ay high up on the mountain. It was deserted, but had a lovely view. Miles and miles and miles of green hills surrounded us; only specks of civilization appeared low in the valley. Eventually a monk appeared, and told us that we could gong the enormous bell on the shrine grounds as many times as we wished. I gonged. Then I started to shiver with the damp. What's next? Careening through the high jungle roads (supposedly on our way to the onsen), me shifting slipperely on my plastic seat cover, we both look up in awe to see the incredible long thin veil of a waterfall tumbling down into the valley. It couldn't have been more than 4 feet in diameter, but must have been falling for more than 500 feet. We had to stop... I got out and was surprised to see pale grey crabs crawling about everywhere! Japanese jungle land-crabs! Of course, I poked at them a bit while Yoshino began climbing the ancient staircase to the waterfall. I caught up with him at the top, where the falls were slapping against the black rocks and blowing a cool mist out in waves. He explained to me that a famous monk used to come there-- I remembered reading somewhere that monks would stand for hours with their bare heads under similar waterfalls, palms pressed together, as a sort of meditation or training. "Do you want to try?" he asked me. Well, seeing as I'm already soaked... why not!? There is sort of a feeling of resoluteness and supplication to nature that takes over as the cool water pounds your brain. It was an amazing moment. However, it really only lasted long enough for Yoshino to take a picture; my craving for the soothing warmth of the public bath was starting to overwhelm me. THEN: On to the onsen. Really. It was a simple one, just one main indoor bath with jacuzzi bubbles, where I happily soaked with three grandmas and a 5 year old girl who regarded me with naked suspicion (pun not intended... but funny anyhow)! Then I changed back into my sodden clothes and we drove back into town and went out for dinner at an 'All Natural Viking Style' restaurant. 'Viking Style' is Japanese-English for 'Buffet'. I don't know why. There were all kinds of interesting salads and concoctions that I had never seen before, so of course, I was all over that. Yoshino kept admonishing me for eating the less expensive food. "You won't reach 2000 yen! You eat only 500 yen!" I didn't care. By the time our timed meal was up (90 minutes max. to prevent those who can eat all they want from indulging too deeply) I was wrinkled all over from being wet for so long, and quite plainly demanded to be taken home. Good day, wet day, The End!
The very next day Ingrid had a Yukata party... it was a little surreal. Imagine this: You are in Japan. And all around you in a crammed little bar, are white girls in Japanese garb. It was a little like Halloween. At one point Ingrid decided that it was time to 'take a walk'. Three of us decided to come along: A Japanese girl named Mari in a dark blue yukata with a yellow obi (the sash and bow that tie tightly around your middle), me in my navy-red-white number with my red obi (made by Ume's grandmother for me some 12 years ago), and a stunning brunette named Angela in turquiose with a white obi. Ingrid herself was drop-dead gorgeous in a real white-silk kimono... not just a flimsy cotton yukata. She was perfect in every way, right down to her spotless white tabi socks and the white blossom in her dark done-up hair. The four of us sashayed through the narrow streets of the night district, illiciting wolf-whistles and calls of "sugoi kirei!" from the groups of men we passed. I have to admit I soaked it up- it was like being a celebrity on tour! I cooled myself with a paper fan that Yumi from Big Brother's had given to me one hot day; the fan is emblazoned with a Japanese phrase that basically says: "Don't you know who I am? Better show some respect!"... basically, a cheeky sort of Yakuza fan. You can imagine how quickly I tucked it into the folds of my yukata when Ingrid stopped to chat with a real Yakuza during our walk. We went to get our pictures taken and put onto stickers... the first time I've done this since I was here 10 years ago. The technology is much more complex now. After your photos are taken, you can go into a second booth where your photos pop up; you choose your favorites, then use little metal pens and a computer screen to 'decorate' your pictures with various backgrounds and frames and hearts and stars and what-have-you. Too cool! I didn't stay too long at the party after we returned. The circus-style atmosphere was starting to jangle me a bit as there's only so much pseudo-Japan I can take. Besides, the very next night was...
Ashley's goodbye party! Party party party. This was at our usual Nova Izakaya of choice, DomaDoma. Ashley was presented with a GIGANTIC 3 foot cucumber, which had been decorated with ASH in blue pen, and a lot of hearts. Much hilarity ensued. I had invited Yoshino along, seeing as he's always amazed by the antics of foriegners; I figured that it'd be like a free trip to the zoo. He was very happy to sit back and watch as we squealed and drank and laughed. It wasn't long before Tomomi was floppily cuddling everyone and Bani did the haka and the Japansese staff were coyly cuddling Ash's cucumber... I was talking with Neil and our newest recruit, Travis, while most of this was going on. "Man," one of them said, "this is the sort of office party you'd have to have a monday morning meeting about back home..." That's true. Sexual harrassment, apparently, only happens in the office. Once you're out in the world, anything can happen. And most people are polite enough to pretend it never happened the next day. Not to say that anyone was being harrassed. All of us were just drinking too much, and behaving as though we had newly entered adolesence-- pure hormones and crass humor. Yoshino sat madly typing away on his electronic dictionary, looking up 'performance' and 'poor taste/dirty'. He later told me I was nekko o kabuto (I know I've spelled this wrong-- but it means to have a 'Cat on your Head). What he meant was that I was hiding my true self... Jeff's dictionary says that it is "One who acts as if butter wouldn't melt in one's mouth". If that makes any more sense. At any rate, since moving out on my own, I haven't been eating or cooking very much, so I took the opportunity to eat way TOO much, and unfortunately I included some undercooked chicken, and out-of-season sashimi (Bubu later declared that I was "Baka, baka, BAKA desu ne!" for eating sashimi at an Izakaya at this time of year). Which brings us back to the beginning. Food poisoning.
Yup. I won't go into the gory details, but by 8am the next day, I knew I was out for the count, and phoned in sick. My manager called me back at 10:30, pleading with me to come in at 2, as she couldn't find a replacement... I figured if I didn't eat or drink anything until then, I could manage to get through five lessons without too much difficulty. As a precaution, I opted for the black pants instead of the white skirt. The next day I knew I had to see a doctor, as the problem hadn't ceased, and I dragged myself across the street to Bubu's shop. As fate would have it, their daughter Eri was also sick, and so the two of us were bundled into Bubu's jeep and carted off to the doctor like puppies going for innoculation. Which I was-- innocualted, that is. A shot in the arm, and two baggies for of medicine later, Bubu had us loaded back in the jeep. He stopped at his mother's house... still unoccupied, and filled with her belongings. He wanted to tour me through it to see her paintings and studio, and I did as best I could. It was pretty overwhelming, seeing as I was full of drugs, and had eaten the equivilant of a fistful of food in the last 48 hours. Not to mention that the house creepily reminded me of my grandparents Endreny's old house, as it was full of strange smells, dust, stockpiled belongings and unopened gifts. The house where Bubu was born. This 16 room monsterpiece of Japanese architecture... empty! And with the roof peeling back and dropping filth and black mould onto the ancient treasures... I recalled all of the weird dreams I've been having lately. I seem to be in the future, discovering the lost civilization of Japan. Everything is overgrowth and undergrowth, with only a sign for the FUNKY TIME CAFE sticking out here, and some weirdly huge sculptures of racoons and radishes there. I'm starting so see why the low birth rate in Japan worries some of my students; there's a palapable feeling that the society is fraying at the edges. All the weeds in the parks that I thought would have been cleared away by now-- still there. All the beautiful fountains I thought would have been turned on by now-- still empty.
I'm outta steam. I'll leave you with that thought.
Oh, and P.S., I feel much better, thanks!
Last friday, Yoshino had yet another adventure planned. As far as I knew, it involved swimming. He gave me the option of Beach or River. I chose River, seeing as I'd been beaching it up on my own lately. Anyway, as the day invariably does with Yoshino, it stretched out and out, and will from here-on be remembered as 'Endrene's Wettest Day Ever'. We started out slowly, stopping in a few curio shops that Yoshino was interested in, and a sports store where I purchased a new mask and snorkle. By the time we started zooming out into the countryside and into the mountains, a vicious-looking thunder-storm was moving in all around us. It sarted to rain. By this time, I was determined that we were going swimming, thunder, lightening, and rain be damned. We drove on and on and on, until the jungly roads became nearly impassable for one car-- nevermind two. I started to think, "gee... they're going to have a hard time recovering my body if the car goes over this cliff here..." when finially Yoshino was satisfied with our location and stopped. No river in sight-- oh wait, there it is, over the side of this embankment! Big boulders puncuated a friendly-looking, medium-speed river, flanked on all sides by a richly green, narrow valley. So down we clambered, through razor-grass as tall as me (I still have the scratches on my ankles and on my arms to prove it) and struggled to get across the slippery rocks... thank goodness I didn't take any electronic equipment with me that day, as I had an opportunity to test my flexibility, doing the splits across the rocks, and falling completely in with my clothes on three times before making it across! The swimming itself was peaceful and uneventful-- the water was quite scummy, and not a lot of fish to see, aside from a few sculpins. Then-- the heavens opened! The storm hit in earnest, shaking the high tropical valley with a terrifying force. Yoshino scuttled under a boulder with only my wet towel to keep his miniscule frame warm, while I stubbornly kept swimming... counting the time between flashes and rolls of thunder, until the lightening was cracking right over our heads. At which point I also scuttled under the boulder. We gave up shortly thereafter, trudging back up to the car. I had no change of clothes, so he furnished my chair with a deflated air mattress to protect his apolstrey, and off we went. After a difficult exchange, both of us tripping over each other's native tongues, I believed we had come to an agreement to go to an onsen. "Ahhh, hot water...." I was dreaming! First, we went to a shrine/temple, waa-a-a-a-ay high up on the mountain. It was deserted, but had a lovely view. Miles and miles and miles of green hills surrounded us; only specks of civilization appeared low in the valley. Eventually a monk appeared, and told us that we could gong the enormous bell on the shrine grounds as many times as we wished. I gonged. Then I started to shiver with the damp. What's next? Careening through the high jungle roads (supposedly on our way to the onsen), me shifting slipperely on my plastic seat cover, we both look up in awe to see the incredible long thin veil of a waterfall tumbling down into the valley. It couldn't have been more than 4 feet in diameter, but must have been falling for more than 500 feet. We had to stop... I got out and was surprised to see pale grey crabs crawling about everywhere! Japanese jungle land-crabs! Of course, I poked at them a bit while Yoshino began climbing the ancient staircase to the waterfall. I caught up with him at the top, where the falls were slapping against the black rocks and blowing a cool mist out in waves. He explained to me that a famous monk used to come there-- I remembered reading somewhere that monks would stand for hours with their bare heads under similar waterfalls, palms pressed together, as a sort of meditation or training. "Do you want to try?" he asked me. Well, seeing as I'm already soaked... why not!? There is sort of a feeling of resoluteness and supplication to nature that takes over as the cool water pounds your brain. It was an amazing moment. However, it really only lasted long enough for Yoshino to take a picture; my craving for the soothing warmth of the public bath was starting to overwhelm me. THEN: On to the onsen. Really. It was a simple one, just one main indoor bath with jacuzzi bubbles, where I happily soaked with three grandmas and a 5 year old girl who regarded me with naked suspicion (pun not intended... but funny anyhow)! Then I changed back into my sodden clothes and we drove back into town and went out for dinner at an 'All Natural Viking Style' restaurant. 'Viking Style' is Japanese-English for 'Buffet'. I don't know why. There were all kinds of interesting salads and concoctions that I had never seen before, so of course, I was all over that. Yoshino kept admonishing me for eating the less expensive food. "You won't reach 2000 yen! You eat only 500 yen!" I didn't care. By the time our timed meal was up (90 minutes max. to prevent those who can eat all they want from indulging too deeply) I was wrinkled all over from being wet for so long, and quite plainly demanded to be taken home. Good day, wet day, The End!
The very next day Ingrid had a Yukata party... it was a little surreal. Imagine this: You are in Japan. And all around you in a crammed little bar, are white girls in Japanese garb. It was a little like Halloween. At one point Ingrid decided that it was time to 'take a walk'. Three of us decided to come along: A Japanese girl named Mari in a dark blue yukata with a yellow obi (the sash and bow that tie tightly around your middle), me in my navy-red-white number with my red obi (made by Ume's grandmother for me some 12 years ago), and a stunning brunette named Angela in turquiose with a white obi. Ingrid herself was drop-dead gorgeous in a real white-silk kimono... not just a flimsy cotton yukata. She was perfect in every way, right down to her spotless white tabi socks and the white blossom in her dark done-up hair. The four of us sashayed through the narrow streets of the night district, illiciting wolf-whistles and calls of "sugoi kirei!" from the groups of men we passed. I have to admit I soaked it up- it was like being a celebrity on tour! I cooled myself with a paper fan that Yumi from Big Brother's had given to me one hot day; the fan is emblazoned with a Japanese phrase that basically says: "Don't you know who I am? Better show some respect!"... basically, a cheeky sort of Yakuza fan. You can imagine how quickly I tucked it into the folds of my yukata when Ingrid stopped to chat with a real Yakuza during our walk. We went to get our pictures taken and put onto stickers... the first time I've done this since I was here 10 years ago. The technology is much more complex now. After your photos are taken, you can go into a second booth where your photos pop up; you choose your favorites, then use little metal pens and a computer screen to 'decorate' your pictures with various backgrounds and frames and hearts and stars and what-have-you. Too cool! I didn't stay too long at the party after we returned. The circus-style atmosphere was starting to jangle me a bit as there's only so much pseudo-Japan I can take. Besides, the very next night was...
Ashley's goodbye party! Party party party. This was at our usual Nova Izakaya of choice, DomaDoma. Ashley was presented with a GIGANTIC 3 foot cucumber, which had been decorated with ASH in blue pen, and a lot of hearts. Much hilarity ensued. I had invited Yoshino along, seeing as he's always amazed by the antics of foriegners; I figured that it'd be like a free trip to the zoo. He was very happy to sit back and watch as we squealed and drank and laughed. It wasn't long before Tomomi was floppily cuddling everyone and Bani did the haka and the Japansese staff were coyly cuddling Ash's cucumber... I was talking with Neil and our newest recruit, Travis, while most of this was going on. "Man," one of them said, "this is the sort of office party you'd have to have a monday morning meeting about back home..." That's true. Sexual harrassment, apparently, only happens in the office. Once you're out in the world, anything can happen. And most people are polite enough to pretend it never happened the next day. Not to say that anyone was being harrassed. All of us were just drinking too much, and behaving as though we had newly entered adolesence-- pure hormones and crass humor. Yoshino sat madly typing away on his electronic dictionary, looking up 'performance' and 'poor taste/dirty'. He later told me I was nekko o kabuto (I know I've spelled this wrong-- but it means to have a 'Cat on your Head). What he meant was that I was hiding my true self... Jeff's dictionary says that it is "One who acts as if butter wouldn't melt in one's mouth". If that makes any more sense. At any rate, since moving out on my own, I haven't been eating or cooking very much, so I took the opportunity to eat way TOO much, and unfortunately I included some undercooked chicken, and out-of-season sashimi (Bubu later declared that I was "Baka, baka, BAKA desu ne!" for eating sashimi at an Izakaya at this time of year). Which brings us back to the beginning. Food poisoning.
Yup. I won't go into the gory details, but by 8am the next day, I knew I was out for the count, and phoned in sick. My manager called me back at 10:30, pleading with me to come in at 2, as she couldn't find a replacement... I figured if I didn't eat or drink anything until then, I could manage to get through five lessons without too much difficulty. As a precaution, I opted for the black pants instead of the white skirt. The next day I knew I had to see a doctor, as the problem hadn't ceased, and I dragged myself across the street to Bubu's shop. As fate would have it, their daughter Eri was also sick, and so the two of us were bundled into Bubu's jeep and carted off to the doctor like puppies going for innoculation. Which I was-- innocualted, that is. A shot in the arm, and two baggies for of medicine later, Bubu had us loaded back in the jeep. He stopped at his mother's house... still unoccupied, and filled with her belongings. He wanted to tour me through it to see her paintings and studio, and I did as best I could. It was pretty overwhelming, seeing as I was full of drugs, and had eaten the equivilant of a fistful of food in the last 48 hours. Not to mention that the house creepily reminded me of my grandparents Endreny's old house, as it was full of strange smells, dust, stockpiled belongings and unopened gifts. The house where Bubu was born. This 16 room monsterpiece of Japanese architecture... empty! And with the roof peeling back and dropping filth and black mould onto the ancient treasures... I recalled all of the weird dreams I've been having lately. I seem to be in the future, discovering the lost civilization of Japan. Everything is overgrowth and undergrowth, with only a sign for the FUNKY TIME CAFE sticking out here, and some weirdly huge sculptures of racoons and radishes there. I'm starting so see why the low birth rate in Japan worries some of my students; there's a palapable feeling that the society is fraying at the edges. All the weeds in the parks that I thought would have been cleared away by now-- still there. All the beautiful fountains I thought would have been turned on by now-- still empty.
I'm outta steam. I'll leave you with that thought.
Oh, and P.S., I feel much better, thanks!
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
What a fan-frickin-tabulous day! Living alone has major benefits... like, I actually get things done! Yesterday I was organized enough to do all of my laundry and take the last of my paintings to the frame shop in Akita Machi. So when I woke up this morning and realized that A) I didn't have to work until 4 PM and B) The sun was shining and a breeze was blowing-- of course I decided that it was Endrene-Adventure time! I slapped on the SPF 45 and strapped on the red bikini that mom sent in February, loaded up a bag with the essentials; towel, sunglasses, what-have-you. I trundled my mama-chari bike over to the Kiyoei and bought breakfast/lunch: om-rice, some kinda potato-salad thing, watermelon, a stawberry-coco jelly, water, iced tea, iced coffee. While shopping, I bumped into Shelley, a Japanese student of Neil's. He has this amazing custom-jewelry shop across the street from the Kiyoei called 'Kiss The Hand', so after paying for my groceries, I popped in to give him a little English Challenge before I took off for the beach. I admired his work as we tried to talk about the weather; his English is only a little better than my Japanese (which is still-- regrettably-- awful). At any rate, I managed to explain to him that I didn't mind the humidity, and that I was going to ride my bike to Komatsu beach. He managed to explain to me that I was nuts. His eyes widened as he flung his arms wide. "So far!! Water- so cold!" No, problem, I asserted, flexing my biceps. "I am a strong girl!"
The ride out was beautiful. Everything-- the fields, rice paddies, grasses at the side of the road-- is so amazingly lush and green, and the hazy pale blue of the Yoshino river was only slightly greener than the blue of the sky, so it almost looked like there was no end or beginning the the earth or heavens. The wind was just strong enough to keep me cool- with the humidity, it's the moment you stand still that you become soaked with sweat. I had forgotten how far it was to the beach, but as the road was straight and smooth along the riverside, I didn't mind a bit. When I got there, I was surprised to discover that the beach had roughly the same amount of debris on it as the last time I was there; I guess I assumed it would be spotless for beach season. The shells and chunks of driftwood I don't mind-- it's the rubber gloves and old pop cans that bother me. That aside-- I was thrilled to be there. Waves! Sun! Sand! Salty Air! Cute Japanese Surfer Dudes! I stripped off my shorts and t-shirt and wandered towards the waters edge. By the way mom, the bikini bra is padded... have you seen my breasts? Do I need padding? I think I was responsible for a few rubber-necking injuries today! I was glad to have my dark glasses so that I could peer about without being too obvious. I felt a little nervous about one older fellow who seemed to be following me a little, so I picked a spot for my bag near another gentleman who looked to be respectably self-absorbed. And in I went! The water was quite warm... I have no idea how Shelley could've thought it'd be too cold. I happily bounced and splashed and allowed myself to be buffeted by the waves as I attempted to body-surf. Respectable guy came in too, and splashed about near three joyfully screeching Japanese girls, but seemed to be keeping an eye on me. I went in and out a couple of times, taking a break to soak up the sun and eat my watermelon. Respectable guy smoked a cigarette and watched me very carefully as I did this. I had one last swim, and lost my sunglasses when a big wave whammed me; no problem, they were cheap. It was time to move on anyhow. I picked up my bag and made my way to the showers. Lo and behold, who appeared as I was rinsing off? Not-so-Repectable guy. I guess I can't really be too hard on him; he proabably just wanted to say talk, but was initially too shy. I just haven't quite gotten used to the idea that stalking is a legitimate display of interest. He hovered around a little more as I was towelling off, and then finally walked right up to me and asked where I was from. Always civil, I replied. "Canada." Then I think he asked me what I was doing here; when I said "Nova-no-sensei desu," he nodded quickly, and walked off, never to be seen again. Weird.
I went from the beach to the nearby Kawauchi Onsen to get de-gritted before going to work. The system was different than the Ebisu Onsen; when I walked up and waited expectantly at the counter, the girl looked at me like I was crazy. "Ofuru?" (Bath?) Hai, Yes, I nodded and grinned enthusiastically. She then very kindly walked me back to the entrace and showed me an enormous vending machine with a myriad of buttons... this one for the bath, that one for an oki towel, this one for a chichai towel, shampoo, bodywash, rinse. When I plugged my coins in, I half-expected the machine to spit out a towel and a bottle of shampoo, but what I got was an assortment of little tickets. Which I took to the counter. Where the girl looked at me like I was not so crazy. She handed me my towel and packets of body-cleansing goodness and I made my way into the heart of the onsen. I was surprised to find that the ladies changing area was also a smoking room, so that was kind of gross. Otherwise, the interior was not too different from Ebisu; just a lot less ornate and elaborate. There were fewer baths and only one small square outdoor pool done in ultramarine tile, but all in all it was very pleasant and relaxing-- and cleansing, which was really the whole point. I imagine that the bulk of their business comes from beach-weary Komatsu-goers. I wonder how many pounds of sand their patrons drag in from the beach every year?
Work this afternoon just sailed by; there's nothing like having a short work-day before your weekend begins. I suppose I'll have to spend friday finishing framing all of my artwork: the show is on the 25th in Naruto. There will be 4 of us-- two Americans and a British girl and I. Most of my works are small black-and-whites on paper of moments and people that have struck me over the past few months. A couple are more colorful fantasy-based watercolors with a lot of asian influence. I still have no idea how I am going to get the paintings to Naruto... At any rate, I'm psyched to have my work on display. As for tomorrow... I'm going back to the beach!
The ride out was beautiful. Everything-- the fields, rice paddies, grasses at the side of the road-- is so amazingly lush and green, and the hazy pale blue of the Yoshino river was only slightly greener than the blue of the sky, so it almost looked like there was no end or beginning the the earth or heavens. The wind was just strong enough to keep me cool- with the humidity, it's the moment you stand still that you become soaked with sweat. I had forgotten how far it was to the beach, but as the road was straight and smooth along the riverside, I didn't mind a bit. When I got there, I was surprised to discover that the beach had roughly the same amount of debris on it as the last time I was there; I guess I assumed it would be spotless for beach season. The shells and chunks of driftwood I don't mind-- it's the rubber gloves and old pop cans that bother me. That aside-- I was thrilled to be there. Waves! Sun! Sand! Salty Air! Cute Japanese Surfer Dudes! I stripped off my shorts and t-shirt and wandered towards the waters edge. By the way mom, the bikini bra is padded... have you seen my breasts? Do I need padding? I think I was responsible for a few rubber-necking injuries today! I was glad to have my dark glasses so that I could peer about without being too obvious. I felt a little nervous about one older fellow who seemed to be following me a little, so I picked a spot for my bag near another gentleman who looked to be respectably self-absorbed. And in I went! The water was quite warm... I have no idea how Shelley could've thought it'd be too cold. I happily bounced and splashed and allowed myself to be buffeted by the waves as I attempted to body-surf. Respectable guy came in too, and splashed about near three joyfully screeching Japanese girls, but seemed to be keeping an eye on me. I went in and out a couple of times, taking a break to soak up the sun and eat my watermelon. Respectable guy smoked a cigarette and watched me very carefully as I did this. I had one last swim, and lost my sunglasses when a big wave whammed me; no problem, they were cheap. It was time to move on anyhow. I picked up my bag and made my way to the showers. Lo and behold, who appeared as I was rinsing off? Not-so-Repectable guy. I guess I can't really be too hard on him; he proabably just wanted to say talk, but was initially too shy. I just haven't quite gotten used to the idea that stalking is a legitimate display of interest. He hovered around a little more as I was towelling off, and then finally walked right up to me and asked where I was from. Always civil, I replied. "Canada." Then I think he asked me what I was doing here; when I said "Nova-no-sensei desu," he nodded quickly, and walked off, never to be seen again. Weird.
I went from the beach to the nearby Kawauchi Onsen to get de-gritted before going to work. The system was different than the Ebisu Onsen; when I walked up and waited expectantly at the counter, the girl looked at me like I was crazy. "Ofuru?" (Bath?) Hai, Yes, I nodded and grinned enthusiastically. She then very kindly walked me back to the entrace and showed me an enormous vending machine with a myriad of buttons... this one for the bath, that one for an oki towel, this one for a chichai towel, shampoo, bodywash, rinse. When I plugged my coins in, I half-expected the machine to spit out a towel and a bottle of shampoo, but what I got was an assortment of little tickets. Which I took to the counter. Where the girl looked at me like I was not so crazy. She handed me my towel and packets of body-cleansing goodness and I made my way into the heart of the onsen. I was surprised to find that the ladies changing area was also a smoking room, so that was kind of gross. Otherwise, the interior was not too different from Ebisu; just a lot less ornate and elaborate. There were fewer baths and only one small square outdoor pool done in ultramarine tile, but all in all it was very pleasant and relaxing-- and cleansing, which was really the whole point. I imagine that the bulk of their business comes from beach-weary Komatsu-goers. I wonder how many pounds of sand their patrons drag in from the beach every year?
Work this afternoon just sailed by; there's nothing like having a short work-day before your weekend begins. I suppose I'll have to spend friday finishing framing all of my artwork: the show is on the 25th in Naruto. There will be 4 of us-- two Americans and a British girl and I. Most of my works are small black-and-whites on paper of moments and people that have struck me over the past few months. A couple are more colorful fantasy-based watercolors with a lot of asian influence. I still have no idea how I am going to get the paintings to Naruto... At any rate, I'm psyched to have my work on display. As for tomorrow... I'm going back to the beach!
Monday, July 10, 2006
I have hot water, a vacuum cleaner, a toaster, a blender, a futon, a stereo, some plants, a small glass table and a little rice-paper lamp. All set!
I've been in to the BuBu shop more than usual due to its convienient proximity. Lately he's taken to explaining an ancient Chinese story to me each time I go in. Today's story was about The Super Monkey. Bubu told it to me to illustrate the relationship he has with his wife:
"The Super Monkey could fly a long long ways without stopping! One day, this monkey meets the Buddha. The Buddha says to him, 'Go, then!' So the Monkey, he flies, flies, flies a long, long ways. The monkey, he comes to... these five. (here we stopped and Bubu drew a picture and I explained to him that the word he was looking for was 'pillars'.) So, the monkey comes to these 5 pillars. He flies, the middle one, he makes a mark. Then he flies back long way to the Buddha. The monkey says, 'I flew very far away, which one?' The Buddha says, 'this one.' (Here, Bubu holds up his hand and points to his middle finger. Then stares at me poignantly, waiting for enlightenment to strike.) You understand? The Buddha is so big, everywhere, and very wise and clever. The middle one, is only the Buddha finger. The monkey thinks he is so clever! She is the Buddha-- and I, am the monkey! Super Monkey!"
I've been in to the BuBu shop more than usual due to its convienient proximity. Lately he's taken to explaining an ancient Chinese story to me each time I go in. Today's story was about The Super Monkey. Bubu told it to me to illustrate the relationship he has with his wife:
"The Super Monkey could fly a long long ways without stopping! One day, this monkey meets the Buddha. The Buddha says to him, 'Go, then!' So the Monkey, he flies, flies, flies a long, long ways. The monkey, he comes to... these five. (here we stopped and Bubu drew a picture and I explained to him that the word he was looking for was 'pillars'.) So, the monkey comes to these 5 pillars. He flies, the middle one, he makes a mark. Then he flies back long way to the Buddha. The monkey says, 'I flew very far away, which one?' The Buddha says, 'this one.' (Here, Bubu holds up his hand and points to his middle finger. Then stares at me poignantly, waiting for enlightenment to strike.) You understand? The Buddha is so big, everywhere, and very wise and clever. The middle one, is only the Buddha finger. The monkey thinks he is so clever! She is the Buddha-- and I, am the monkey! Super Monkey!"
Thursday, July 06, 2006
All moved in now. Unpacked, too. I've even nicknamed my neighbor 'Harvey Wallbanger' due to his annoying habit of (duh) banging on the wall at all odd hours of the day and night... even when I am sleeping, so at least I know I'm not annoying him. Unless of course he's one of these hyper-sensitive types and I'm sending off some strange vibes that disturb his aura...
Oooh! Just got a call on my cell phone from my landlord-- I've got to go home right away; the gas company is sending someone to turn on my hot water. Did I mention that I'd been party to the zen buddhist habit of taking cold showers every day? And not by choice?
Oooh! Just got a call on my cell phone from my landlord-- I've got to go home right away; the gas company is sending someone to turn on my hot water. Did I mention that I'd been party to the zen buddhist habit of taking cold showers every day? And not by choice?
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
It's mushiatsui! That means 'hot and humid', and I can't think of a better word to describe it... try saying it with a touch of sticky fatigue, "Oh, MOOSHY-AtSOOeee!" Perfect. Now is the season of unending whiny complaints from sweaty gaijin and overworked students, and frankly, I find it a little annoying. Yes, it's hot, yes it's sticky-- but this is freakin' sub-tropical Japan, people! Get over yourselves-- go to the beach and relish the heat, or enjoy the shivery sensation of damp limbs cooling down in an air-conditioned room... whatever you do, don't whine about it!
Yesterday I saw Bani at work for the first time since his return from his 3 weeks in Germany. "Who won?" I asked. He looked a little incredulous as he told me that the World Cup isn't over yet... oh. I stopped paying attention when Japan got knocked out. Anyway, he very kindly offered to help me finish moving to my new place after work. We went in his little black jeep-type-thing to the Boobie Palace and I quickly finished my haphazard packing as he excitedly regailed Joanna and Kat with his World Cup adventures. Nice to speak to girls who actually appreciate the language of soccer, I guess! Red card, yellow card, one card, two card... whatever. I just think: "Run, beautiful men! Oh yes! Run and jump and kick the pretty ball!" It's probably the same way most men feel about figure-skating.
Anyway, now I'm mostly moved in... I have yet to unpack and redistribute the wealth. How have I managed to accumulate so much stuff in such a short period of time? The pack-rack gene in me seems to live on no matter what I do to eradicate it. I shouldn't complain; I have most of what I need. Dan has now left for Australia-- before he went, he bestowed me with boxes of kitchen supplies, including a blender, a food processor, and a takoyaki-making kit. Bubu's family has also given me some of Eri's things from her university days; lovely cream curtains, and a little glass coffee table. I have yet to buy an ironing board and garbage cans... ahhh. So much life goes into the mundane details. The apartment is miniscule (I'm sure I've said this before), and now I'm really appreciating my brief experience with dorm life during my last 4 months of university. It's very similar; the close quarters, the neighbors that bang on the walls at 3 am. At least here I have a washroom and a hot plate!
Canada Day was celebrated in typical Canadian fashion-- somewhat quietly, with dry humor and multicultural flair. Kat, Denise, Alex and I (the 4 Nova Canadians) were accompanied by Alex's boyfriend Tomomi and Joanna at a Denny's-style Izakaya. Various challenges were dealt with: vegetarianism, Denise's wheat and dairy allergy, Alex's shrimp allergy... only Tomomi and I could eat everything (and we did!) We had several pints of beer and laughed over the pre-packaged moist towelettes that are proffered before every meal-- the funniest ones I have seen are labeled 'Shilky Touch', but Alex had seen one called 'My Wet Friend'. The laughter and clever conversation were very uplifting-- Tomomi and I eyed our cute waiters and hosts and argued over which was the most darling. As we left, Kat stopped at the door to have her picture taken with (I thought) the cutest host at the front door. We wound our way through the damp warm streets, brightly lit with red lanterns and rainbow-coloured signs, to an Irish pub. Once you are in one of these themed spaces, you swear you could be in another part of the world; the Pouges were trilling brightly from the speakers, the seats were rich dark red leather, the walls were stone and brick, and the pint of Guiness was perfect. The evening ended rather abruptly-- although Tomomi wanted to carry on to a gay bar, I was ready for bed and Alex had to leave to catch his train.
Kat and I made our way back along the edge of Mt. Bizan; we stopped at one of the temples along the way. It was mysterious in the dark, with the buzz of cicadas all around and the heady cool scent of the mountain gardenias coming down the dusky slopes and encircling us. I showed her how to rinse your hands, how to ring the bell to scare the bad spirits away, and to clap to attract the attention of the gods. I talked about how I felt like Japan had chosen me; and not the other way around. In 1994 my mom had somehow heard about this opportunity through my school district-- write an essay about why I wanted to go to Japan and win a chance to be part of a two-week exchange. To tell the truth, I had never really thought about Japan before, other than it being the ending to 'MADE IN' on most of my childhood toys. Cajoled by my parents, I leafed through an old LIFE book on Japan that someone had picked up at a garage sale, and composed an essay. I felt like such a faker, saying that I was interested in geisha and the culture and changes to Japan after WWII... but someone liked my essay. And so I went. It seems like ever since that first experience, Japan has kept on knocking on the door of my heart, bringing me some of my ricest and most profound experiences-- whether I wanted them or not. I made one of my truest friends at Japanese summer school at UBC in 1995. Thanks to the generosity of my grandparents, I went to Hokkaido when I was 1996 on another brief exchange. There I gave a speech in Japanese to a crowd at a wine festival, mistakenly mixing up the words for 'scary' and 'pretty' when I described the town. I have learned and forgotten and learned and forgotten how to read hiragana and katagana three times-- now I'm learning again. I'm immersed in this culture, and I often feel like I'm only riding the tides of my destiny. I learn, and I watch, I imitate and posture, and yet I always try to remain completely myself, hoping that I can teach as much as I learn. It's sometimes incredible, and sometimes terrifying... but it's good to feel so alive.
Yesterday I saw Bani at work for the first time since his return from his 3 weeks in Germany. "Who won?" I asked. He looked a little incredulous as he told me that the World Cup isn't over yet... oh. I stopped paying attention when Japan got knocked out. Anyway, he very kindly offered to help me finish moving to my new place after work. We went in his little black jeep-type-thing to the Boobie Palace and I quickly finished my haphazard packing as he excitedly regailed Joanna and Kat with his World Cup adventures. Nice to speak to girls who actually appreciate the language of soccer, I guess! Red card, yellow card, one card, two card... whatever. I just think: "Run, beautiful men! Oh yes! Run and jump and kick the pretty ball!" It's probably the same way most men feel about figure-skating.
Anyway, now I'm mostly moved in... I have yet to unpack and redistribute the wealth. How have I managed to accumulate so much stuff in such a short period of time? The pack-rack gene in me seems to live on no matter what I do to eradicate it. I shouldn't complain; I have most of what I need. Dan has now left for Australia-- before he went, he bestowed me with boxes of kitchen supplies, including a blender, a food processor, and a takoyaki-making kit. Bubu's family has also given me some of Eri's things from her university days; lovely cream curtains, and a little glass coffee table. I have yet to buy an ironing board and garbage cans... ahhh. So much life goes into the mundane details. The apartment is miniscule (I'm sure I've said this before), and now I'm really appreciating my brief experience with dorm life during my last 4 months of university. It's very similar; the close quarters, the neighbors that bang on the walls at 3 am. At least here I have a washroom and a hot plate!
Canada Day was celebrated in typical Canadian fashion-- somewhat quietly, with dry humor and multicultural flair. Kat, Denise, Alex and I (the 4 Nova Canadians) were accompanied by Alex's boyfriend Tomomi and Joanna at a Denny's-style Izakaya. Various challenges were dealt with: vegetarianism, Denise's wheat and dairy allergy, Alex's shrimp allergy... only Tomomi and I could eat everything (and we did!) We had several pints of beer and laughed over the pre-packaged moist towelettes that are proffered before every meal-- the funniest ones I have seen are labeled 'Shilky Touch', but Alex had seen one called 'My Wet Friend'. The laughter and clever conversation were very uplifting-- Tomomi and I eyed our cute waiters and hosts and argued over which was the most darling. As we left, Kat stopped at the door to have her picture taken with (I thought) the cutest host at the front door. We wound our way through the damp warm streets, brightly lit with red lanterns and rainbow-coloured signs, to an Irish pub. Once you are in one of these themed spaces, you swear you could be in another part of the world; the Pouges were trilling brightly from the speakers, the seats were rich dark red leather, the walls were stone and brick, and the pint of Guiness was perfect. The evening ended rather abruptly-- although Tomomi wanted to carry on to a gay bar, I was ready for bed and Alex had to leave to catch his train.
Kat and I made our way back along the edge of Mt. Bizan; we stopped at one of the temples along the way. It was mysterious in the dark, with the buzz of cicadas all around and the heady cool scent of the mountain gardenias coming down the dusky slopes and encircling us. I showed her how to rinse your hands, how to ring the bell to scare the bad spirits away, and to clap to attract the attention of the gods. I talked about how I felt like Japan had chosen me; and not the other way around. In 1994 my mom had somehow heard about this opportunity through my school district-- write an essay about why I wanted to go to Japan and win a chance to be part of a two-week exchange. To tell the truth, I had never really thought about Japan before, other than it being the ending to 'MADE IN' on most of my childhood toys. Cajoled by my parents, I leafed through an old LIFE book on Japan that someone had picked up at a garage sale, and composed an essay. I felt like such a faker, saying that I was interested in geisha and the culture and changes to Japan after WWII... but someone liked my essay. And so I went. It seems like ever since that first experience, Japan has kept on knocking on the door of my heart, bringing me some of my ricest and most profound experiences-- whether I wanted them or not. I made one of my truest friends at Japanese summer school at UBC in 1995. Thanks to the generosity of my grandparents, I went to Hokkaido when I was 1996 on another brief exchange. There I gave a speech in Japanese to a crowd at a wine festival, mistakenly mixing up the words for 'scary' and 'pretty' when I described the town. I have learned and forgotten and learned and forgotten how to read hiragana and katagana three times-- now I'm learning again. I'm immersed in this culture, and I often feel like I'm only riding the tides of my destiny. I learn, and I watch, I imitate and posture, and yet I always try to remain completely myself, hoping that I can teach as much as I learn. It's sometimes incredible, and sometimes terrifying... but it's good to feel so alive.
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