"Hemorrhoids are popular in Japan." a friend assured me. I'm pretty sure he meant "common," but where would I be without the hilarity of English confusion? I would laugh a whole lot less, I assure you. It's been an interesting week; bright, clean, green, windy, cold, and full of ebb and flow, big moons, clear skies, and all of the wonderment and freshness that comes from awakening from a long dream.

Tokushima never really turned brown; I was noticing that today as I zipped through the streets on my faithful blue Crispy. The palm trees still rattled their olive fronds; the tropical trees shone emerald and crisp in the cold air. All winter, something was blooming in every garden. Already bulbs are pushing up and through; I pass sweet Narcissus on my way to work, and was shocked to see a tree bursting with pink blossoms that I remember seeing a year ago. With the decision to leave Japan, I feel like the bottle of my heart has been uncorked; I am breathing again, seeing again. I'm peeking over garden walls and taking detours to watch kids practice baseball in their immaculate white uniforms. I'm rediscovering of the fantastic weirdness's that had seemed to become so routine to me.

For example-- the pigeons; I've meant to write about them a million times, but I never seem to get around to it. Tokushima has the laziest pigeons I have ever seen. They sleep laying down on the sidewalks, and in the flowerbeds in the parks, and the seem to hate to fly. They remind me of the California quail back home, who run like mad on their wee little legs across the road in front of your car, freaking you out as they launch into flight at only the last possible second. The Tokushima pigeons are similar, but lazier. I don't know how many have casually sidestepped my bike as I was bearing down on them in the park, like it was no big deal to have a massive rolling metal thing coming right at them. You have to be posing a real physical threat to them to get them airborne.

Another thing; Setsubun. I missed it last year, being fresh and uncertain and without Japanese friends to explain the right way to throw beans. One doesn't want to throw beans the wrong way and mismanage the flow of good vibes that you are meant to be directing into your house. Setsubun is on the evening of February 3rd, and marks the last night of the old Japanese year. I decided to include Kat and Joanna and Melissa in this exercise in Japanese tradition. I bought my package of peanuts (should've been soybeans, but I was shopping late and had to settle for the next-best thing) and my paper devil's mask and headed over to Bubu's for instructions. He was pleased that I was going to be participating, and sternly reminded me that we were to shout "Oni wa soto!"(get out, demons!) while we threw the beans out the front door, and "Fuku wa uchi!"(come in, good luck!) while throwing beans in to the house. Made sense to me. I knew that someone could represent the bad things that you want to be rid of by wearing the devil mask, and you could throw beans (or, in our case, nuts) at them, too. I thought this was a great idea, especially since my cousin has recently contracted some kind of nasty cancer. She's always had a marvelous sense of humour, so what could be better than chucking nuts at her 'cancer'? We weren't sure what the procedure for that was though, so we doubled them up by having Melissa stand outside the door holding the mask to her face as we hurled nuts at her and shouted "Oni wa soto! Oni wa soto! Oni wa soto!" over and over. She was a bit of a boring demon though, standing with her arms crossed and complaining that the nuts were getting too close to her face. So I switched with her. I danced around with such an abundance of demonish glee as I dodged the nuts that we were all soon laughing too much to speak the magic words. Time to chuck the nuts back in the house; "Fuku wa uchi! Fuku wa uchi! Fuku wa uchi!" Then we settled down to part two; eating the same number of nuts as there are years in your life. Luckily we were all in even numbers (24, 26 and 28) as peanuts come jacketed in pairs. We settled down to unshelling and munching. "Mmmm. I like monkey nuts," Joanna said, apparently the British word for peanuts. Which got us laughing again.

I talked about Setsubun a little more with my language exchange partner, Kenji last night. He had a compass attached to his cell phone. I wondered why when I recalled that Bubu had said something about eating an uncut maki-zushi roll while facing North East (this year's lucky direction).
"That's right," confirmed Kenji. "And you can't say anything, you must eat it quietly, until you are finished. I don't know why."
"I do!" I offered. "Bubu told me. It's to bring good luck." Kenji narrowed his samurai eyes at me.
"But I don't know why it brings good luck. Many young Japanese... they don't know why we have traditions anymore. 'Why' is the most important thing."
I really admire Kenji. He really makes an effort to speak with clarity and good humour; the result is a brutally honest exchange that never offends. He's also got such a perfectly cut face that I itch to sketch him every time I see him. He's kind of like my mirror; a reflection, similar but opposite. Me: Female, Canadian, age 28, has lived in Japan for one year, creative, craves the next adventure. He: Male, Japanese, age 27 & a 1/2, lived in London for one year, creative, craves the improvement and deepening of his lifestyle. There's a saying that I came across years ago and have never forgotten, although the source escapes me. Something to the effect of: There are two ways to live. You can live Wide and Shallow, or you can live Narrow and Deep. I admire Kenji because he's just starting to get the hang of Narrow and Deep, which is something I think I aspire to. There are wild parts of me that balk at the thought of anything that hints at "settling down," but I also know that there are riches in being grounded that are beyond my imagining. He made the choice to come back to his hometown, to be near his family, to carve out a life for himself of meaningful pursuits and solid dedication. That's very cool. For me, a little scary, but not without its allure.

If you're interested in the wild world of my fellow female art-making friends, please have a look at the following blogs: http://www.artgoddessmyth.blogspot.com/ or http://www.violette.ca/blog.html or http://jessicatitley.blogspot.com/ ... Just doing my part to raise awareness!

I discovered from a student the other day that Tokushima means something like 'Integrity Island'. Hmmm. I'll have to consider that one seriously.

Recently there was yet another Farewell/Welcome Party celebrating the ever-more familiar shift in staff at our two branches. We had the most wonderful meal in recent memory at Doma-Doma; vegetarian nabe (with a meat option for the omnivores) , a variety of little fried fishes and exciting Japanese vegetable chips (mmm... crisp-fried lotus root), pizza, chicken, daikon salad, potatoes drizzled with anchovy paste and garlic chips, etcetera, etcetera. And of course, lots and lots of beer and nihon-shu (sake). I sat next to my wee favorited friend and across from her knob of an English boyfriend. I poured her drinks and listened to her self-absorbed boyfriend drone on about himself and his extensive knowledge of Japan (gathered over the course of what-- 5 or 6 months?). I also tried to make conversation with our newest addition, 'New' Neil who weirdly enough was slated to be the room-mate of 'Old' Neil (who is not old... he's just got seniority). I think we've got to start calling them by their last names. Anyway, the party went on and my good intentions to have an early night were gone with my second pint. I went around to the Japanese staff ladies, assuring them that if they couldn't find husbands (their collective worst nightmare) that they could come to Canada and I'd sort them out.

The night ended in shambles; my little friend's prat of a boyfriend dumped her shortly after they left the party, assuring her that it was 'she' who had to figure out what to do when 'she' went home, and not a 'them' or 'they' situation. She rejoined us in tears and with a fierce determination to get numbingly drunk. I went on with her and the rest of the staff to Ingrid's for whiskey and tequila and horrible renditions of Red-Hot Chili Peppers songs. I hugged most of my co-workers argued with Martin when he called me a 'jobbie' for poking him with the karaoke-song-selector-stylus. (We arm-wrestled to solve the dispute. He won.) Tomomi got predictably floppy and hammered and fell asleep in consecutive laps-- first Neil's then Chris', then Kat's. We decided to move on. Outside. Down the spiral staircase. Into the narrow street, lit with signs for the Soap-Land shops and the red night-district lanterns. Somehow I found myself rough-housing brother-and-sister-style with NewNeil (who started that? I just met him for the first time that night) when I realized that my little friend had been left behind. My crowd filtered away as I worked my way back up the stairs to retrieve her. The following scene lasted approximately three hours: Enlist a kind New Zealander to get her down the stairs. Retrieve her shoes, her bag. Retrieve her as she tries to get back up the stairs. Accidentally drop her head-first onto the pavement. Worry that I've killed her. Wake her up. Ascertain that she doesn't have a concussion. Enlist further help from the New Zealander to struggle her into a taxi. Use limited Japanese vocabulary to navigate to her house. Drag her out of the taxi. Catch her as she tries to run away. Get her up the stairs, hand her off to her none-too-impressed room-mate. Start walking through the still blue night, through narrow streets and past emptied rice paddies. Stop to stare up at Orion's belt and ponder a little, before continuing to my apartment. Realize that I don't think I'm cut out for many more nights like it.

I've been phoning home a lot more recently, feeling things out and passing updates along to my mom and dad and my Aldergrove family. There are a variety of reasons compounding and compelling this weary traveller to wend her way home. To mention a few: My grandmother's 80th birthday, my high school reunion, my grandparents 60th wedding anniversary, and (breaking news) my friend-since-forever Corrin's wedding. I'll be her maid of honor besides!

The Tokushima adventure met its natural end when my original contract concluded, but I fought against it tooth and nail. What?! Leave Japan? Now? Just when things are getting good? Now that I have the postcard indicating my acceptance into another year of life in the Japanese working world in my sweaty little hands, I feel... meh. I don't feel sad, or disappointed, or anything really. I am certain that I could ferret out new challenges; for example, fervently study the Japanese language, or tea ceremony, or kendo... but the pursuits strike me as rather hollow at this point. I feel satisfied, satiated. Why stuff myself on one experience when there are so many more to be had?

What scares me a little is not knowing what's next. And I don't mean that I am afraid that there won't be anything for me to do; I foresee a myriad of doors flung open for me, and I am rejoicing in the boundless opportunities. What I want to discern is what opportunities will best suit my needs and goals at this time, which pursuits will help me to grow into a better, fuller, more rounded human being. (And I'm not talking about getting a gig at Roger's Chocolates!)

I phoned my little friend the next day to check up on, make sure she was doing okay. I was surprised to hear her sounding genuinely... chipper.
"I'm going home in April!" she announced. "I'm so excited! When I was at home, I hated everything there; I think I needed to get away from it all to realize how much it all meant to me." My sentiments exactly. I'm ready to approach the things and people once familiar and taken-for-granted with fresh enthusiasm.

So I bought a plane ticket today.

I received some sort of 'tag' from my fabulous friend, the Divine Lady K, and now am expected to list six strange things about myself, then 'tag' six other bloggers. While I do write a blog, I am hopelessly out of touch with any sort of Internet community, so I will write the six weird things but I won't go about tagging others. (Mostly because I don't know how). Let's see...

1) My parents don't even know this: When I was in high school I had a strange paranoia about dying from spontaneous human combustion. I think I read about it in some paranormal book in the library, then I couldn't stop thinking about it. I remember sitting in my Business Ed class, and my feet were sweating, and I was thinking, "oh, how embarrassing, I'm going to combust in front of Mike Sutch," who at the time was beyond cool. Every time my feet got hot, I thought I was going to go up in flames. Which is doubly ridiculous, because if you've seen the pictures of combustion victims, usually the only thing remaining is their feet.

2) I can hand write backwards. I took a stab at writing my journals this way until I realized I was focusing too hard on writing backwards to remember to say anything interesting.

3) My eyes change colour. They are usually blue, but sometimes they are grey or green, or some mix of all three. It says they are hazel on my drivers license, which they absolutely are not and have never been.

4) My hands are about the same size, but my right thumb is significantly bigger than my left thumb. I assume this is because I sucked it until I was 11 years old. I only stopped because I had some torture device put in by the orthodontist at the time to cure my cross-bite, and my thumb didn't fit anymore. I don't think my cross-bite was much improved, but I was saved from having an enormous wrinkly right thumb and buck-teeth.

5) My knee-caps sweat when I get nervous.

6) I really, genuinely like natto. And lots of other Japanese foods that most foreigners won't touch. I hope that I just didn't talk myself into liking natto so that I could show off... but the health benefits are great, and they have a nice stinky tang to them. My Japanese 'father', Bubu, makes a killer cheese-natto okonomiyaki.

I'll have some more news in a couple of days... in the meantime, know that I am coping well, and am back to a 'happy place' (I never mope for long) and I will be looking into buying some plane tickets pretty soon. Like, tomorrow.

Namaste,

endrene

I have an enormous crush on Shokupanman, a flying superhero bread-man, although to be honest, Anpan (sweet bean buns) are the tastiest. So, it's no wonder that Anapnman is the most popular of these bizarre anime characters.

http://www.netgeist.com/Anpan-land/AnpanFAQ.htm

Now I'm off to the stone-artist's shop to purchase myself my final and long-coveted birthday present with the money that mom and dad sent me... a one-foot high granite Shokupanman sculpture, destined to be my greatest and most apt memento of my life in Japan. Apt because he is carved in stone like so manymanymany of the buddhas and oni and guardians of the shrines that I have observed and been observed by. And because he is a flying bread-man superhero. He doesn't make sense! He is Japan! He is cute nonsensical ridiculousness, guardian of his secret headquarters deep inside Toaster Mountain, captured in his tasty heroic pose forever!

The last ham I ate was in the cafeteria at OUC's north campus, one winter night. I liked ham before that, but that night it occurred to me that ham tastes like people probably taste. Salty and pink and fatty. This disturbing thought didn't spur me to forgo bacon or pork chops however, so perhaps I ought to give ham another try.

Either that or obey may conscience and become a vegan...

...nahhhhhh.

My unhappiness here spurred an onslaught of generosity and helpful suggestions and offerings of hope and support that I will be forever grateful for. I have no doubt that it's normal to feel lost and drifting when one has been living as an over sized square peg in a round hole for well over a year.

My brother was right. It's probably silly to imagine that the grass is any greener in Canada, especially from what I hear about the weather this year-- there isn't any grass to be seen! But it's not necessarily that I feel that life would be any easier or any more interesting in Canada. I'm craving a sense of fitting in. Being special is fine, for a while, but it gets old. And I just haven't gotten used to some things, like being reprimanded by those closest to me for eating too much, and constantly being told that I should diet. I suppose if I came home again, it might not be a forever-thing. I'm still not 100% sure what I want to do for work, or how I'm going to go about it, although living and working here has certainly given me a sense of perspective that I never had before.

In many ways, Carol hit the nail on the head by suggesting that I may have accomplished what I set out to accomplish by coming here. My original motivations were to see whether or not I was cut out for teaching, and to experience the Japanese culture in a more intimate way than my short home stays 13 years ago allowed. I've stayed long enough now to have completed a full cycle; already in the grocery stores I'm recognizing things that greeted me a year ago, when they were new and confusing; the packets of soybeans that are to be tossed out your door for Setsubun (February 3rd) and oni (devil) masks that the children wear to frighten the bad demons away, the racks and racks of chocolate-making kits for girls to use to impress their boyfriends on Valentine's Day. The commercials on TV have gently shifted from the warm cup-o-soup in snowy Hokkaido type, to the slow approach of the bursting cherry-blossom spring type. I feel like I've completed a circle. And could it possibly be any better the second time through? I'm reminded of a camping trip I went on with my friends from the OUC student union during my 3rd year in university. It was the Easter long-weekend, and it was absolutely magical, everything about it. The warmth and comfort we felt from each other's friendships, the brightness of the stars, the music that came so beautifully from some guy's guitar and heart. It was so wonderful, we decided to do it again the next year, after our graduations had commenced. But everything had changed. The relationships had shifted and divided; different people were included, others didn't return. The weather was cold. There was a nasty undercurrent of discontent and fear as we all faced our uncertain futures. I can't try to recreate the newness and amazement I felt a year ago. I could certainly go on trying new things and seeing new places in Japan, but I would do it with a kind of confidence that takes the sparkle off of an adventure. Not that I regret a moment of gaining this confidence and ease of living, but I do recognize it as a marker of sorts.

Thank so much to Shona and Ash for your suggestions and observations. Having lived here yourselves, you know that it isn't always a bed of tsubaki, and that the best way to keep going is to keep going, seeing, trying, experiencing. In fact, I've booked a day trip to Dogo Onsen for this coming Friday, as that was one of the MUST DO things I still hadn't done. My coworker Melissa and I are discussing getting tickets for the next Sumo Basho (tournament) in Osaka in March. I'm not giving up, and I'm not stopping until the moment I leave, that's for certain. I did consider transferring to another school or working for another company for a change of pace, but I do like the sense of home and family I've found in Tokushima; Bubu's family in particular has been a rock-solid foundation for me, and there's been nothing better for my homesickness than going into Bubu's shop for a pep-talk. "Hmmm," he observed last week, "homesick makes you like strange! You forget how to live in Japan!" He does his best to lift me up, suggest what to do and where to go, and of course gives me the usual unwelcome advice about diet and exercise. I have re-applied for my visa, but foolishly only applied for the one-year extension; at the time, I didn't consider that getting the three-year visa would open things up for me should I decide to return in the near future. But for now, the one extra year feels like more than enough.

Oh yes, I do have gypsy-toes, Lady K, and like I said before, there is no way to be absolutely sure that where I land next will be where I stay. But that's true for anyone. I won't be leaving here right away; as Bubu said to me, the most important part of anything is the ending. He actually used some Japanese analogy about ducks in a pond swimming and swimming and making the pond mucky, and the pond becoming clear when the ducks leave... I kind of get it. But-- am I the ducks? Or the pond? Or the force which draws the ducks away from the pond so that the pond can become clear? Or do I only become clear once the 'ducks' leave my 'pond'? Anyway, to wrap things up gracefully and well, I'll need a little bit of time. The cheapest flights are early March (too soon); the next cheapest are in early June, so those will be the ones I'm looking at. A nicer time to travel anyway, as I'd like to make a few international pit-stops on my journey home. And sure, Jess and Ryan, I'll look in to making my final plane land in Victoria. But I don't like ham.

What can I say that hasn't been said? I miss the sense of fitting in, of belonging and being that comes with knowing your home, and your home knowing you. I miss my mom, my dad, my brother, my grandparents, and the friends that have become family to me over the years; I know who you are now, because you have been the ones whose hearts have been closest to me while I have been all these miles away. There's something to be said for distance in terms of sorting the rice from the chaff. Or the wax from the dross. Or whatever you will.

The final words come from a very recent email from my good and talented friend, Tyson Reilly.

"...the experiences and memories will be carried in your heart, and I know will be expressed through your unbelievable talents. This is what you need to take with you, and leave the stress and longing behind. Go with what your heart says, and you can make no mistake. Life is about moving on, especially when you are not happy. Do not settle, do not sell yourself short because YOU DESERVE THE BEST!! The best of life, the best of love, the best of happiness. I know very well how hard it can be to leave some place like that, I take it as a bungee jump: close my eyes and let myself go. Yeah, the rushing wind and earth growing below me is scary as hell, but I will only kiss the river and walk into a new world, perhaps test waters I haven't tested yet. But I like looking forward to new experiences, and always wonder what is in store for me. Discovery is the excitement of life... in a nutshell, I know you miss home, and I have a feeling home misses you. I know I do."


Namaste

Endrene

Reasons to Go

* I don't feel respected by my company
* I'm dreaming about being home every other night
* I want to be a grown-up, which means advancing myself and challenging myself
*The things I crave are not available to me here; namely a broader sense of community (apart from the small community of teachers and assorted English-speaking pirates of Tokushima)
*I want to have more and better access to natural spaces
*I miss my family and friends
*I'd like to live in a bigger apartment
*I'd like to engage in more in-depth conversations than allowed by current language barriers
*Campfires
*I'd like to start a family at some point; I can't imagine subjecting my future children to the Japanese school system (not that I can say a great amount of nice things in favour of the Canadian school system)
*I'd like to stop feeling enormous on a daily basis, because I'M NOT ENORMOUS
*Because... I feel like it's time to go


Reasons to Stay

*Japanese food, Japanese food, Japanese food, OH! Japanese food!
*Japanese young men (my new gold standard for gorgeousness)
*My students
*There's still SO MUCH I haven't seen or done or tasted or experienced; Sumo, the Sapporo Snow Festival, Dogo Onsen, Hiroshima...
*Japanese influence on my art practices and daily manners
*Onsens
*I haven't learned enough Japanese to be satisfied with my progress... then again, I haven't exactly tossed my entire being into the pursuit of language acquisition


Wow. I'm surprised by the weakness of my Reasons to Stay list. Especially since I know very well that I can get most of the ingredients I need for my favorite Japanese foods at the T&T supermarkets in the greater Vancouver area. And that there are a lot of good-looking Asian dudes in the greater Vancouver area too... And I just reviewed my Reasons to Go list, and I think the last statement says it best, and most succinctly. Why talk your heart into something that it already knows is wrong?

Any recommendations as to where to find the cheapest flights online?

Hope I haven't given the impression that I'm not going to write about my life in Japan anymore. However, a series of unpleasantries has made me less than enthusiastic for my present situation. So while I sort myself out, I hereby submit the following results from www.quizgalaxy.com (thanks for the link, Lady K) for your amusement, and as kind of 'Under Construction, Your Patience is Appreciated' sign.

What will my epitath say? Endrene, Gone Underground for Good

How will I be defined in the dictionary? Endrene (noun): an immortal

Who should paint my portrait? Pablo Picasso (which is weird, because I really don't like him. Besides, he's dead.)

How psychic am I? 73% (???)

Oooookayyy. Think I've had enough fun-time. Time for Relax-time. More Youtube. Maybe the Muppet Show. I'll write again when I've got some semblance of a life again.

Two things I've found on www.youtube.com that are worth checking out; one is a weirdly cool music video called 'My Hands are Bananas'. Make sure you watch the real 'My Hands are Bananas', the black-and-white one, with young people singing with German accents. And the Milky Pirate. And the other thing is called 'Spit Art' where a dude draws on the pavement by dribbling water from his mouth. I've done stuff like that, so I can appreciate it; it's good to make art out of whatever stands still.

Another one of those weeks has passed-- one of those that I seemed to jam a freaking lifetime of experience into. Apropos, I am exhausted and not a little bewildered to find that I am at the jarring end of my 'vacation' week. It went something like this:

God I can't wait until I have a week off! Bowling? OK, let's do that Friday. Let's go hiking, too--- OK, maybe, how about when I get back from Tokyo? You want to meet me when? Now? OK. Wow, I'm tired, but I have to get packed for Tokyo. The shrine for New Year's eve? OK, sounds great, see you at 11pm... it should only take a couple of hours, right? Because I'm flying in the morning. Wow, this is a crazy traffic jam, everyone is going to the same shrine? This is amazing... look at the time, 5am! Maybe I can get a couple of hours of sleep before the flight. Maybe I can sleep on the flight. No. Well, that's OK. Hi Sumiko, hi Kazuo, Yu-chan, Tomoya-kun, nice to see you too, yes, let's catch the bus to Tsukuba. Yes, a bath would be nice. Ah, that was lovely, goodnight. Good Morning! Yes, let's go to Mashiko to see the famous pottery, wow, look at all of this pottery, what a lot of pottery, (good god, I think I've seen enough pottery)... yes, let's go back to Tsukuba. Goodnight. Good morning, thank you so much for everything, let's catch the trains to the airport, thank you, you've been excessively kind... Oh hi Makoto, thanks for coming to pick me up, hey, do you know how to get to Komatsushima? I have to renew my visa, you can drive me there tomorrow? That's great! Goodnight. Good morning, yeah, let's go-- ooh, Komatsushima is creepy... that was easy, thanks again, see you later. Oh hi Melissa, sure, let's go to an onsen. Oh hi Miho-- what, a nabe party? Where? My place? Ummm... OK. Melissa, want to come to a nabe party? OK, great, we'll go to my place when we're done here. Sure Kayo, I can read your tarot cards. Thanks for the party you guys, that was great. Yeah, I've got to get to bed, I've got a private student in the morning. No, really. I want to sleep now. No, really, really. Oh crap, I missed my alarm. Harunobu, I'm going to be about 10 minutes late, OK? Thanks so much, see you soon! Hello, good morning, Harunobu...

That brings us to today. My lesson ended, I was paid, I stopped in for a quick chat with Bubu at his shop, then back to my apartment to take my vitamins and to do a swift clean, and then here, to the Internet cafe. I've plugged myself into this computer as though it's an I.V. ... a source of quietude and solitary entertainment, blessed peaceful reflection. I've found a great website called www.pandora.com (I'm sure anyone who spends more than an hour a week on the Internet already knows about it)... anyway, I can type in the name of a band or a song I like, and then the website automatically searches, sorts and sends me a live stream of similar music... it's like being able to create your own radio station. Next I'm going to check out www.youtube.com and see if I can't find a movie I'd like to watch. It's cheaper (and easier, and more private) than going to the movie theatre. I've always been opposed to this kind of computer-focused solitary entertainment, because I think it's damaging to society as a whole; we don't know how to get out and interact in real time anymore. And I tend to blame computers and cell phones and the people who use them to the exclusion of real life. And then there are days like today. I just want to be quietly and privately amused, and I cannot think of anything better than sitting in this little cubicle, drinking my free tea and listening to... a band called 'Seven Nations'. Maybe that's not necessarily useful, but hell, I ought to get off of my high horse and stretch my legs for a bit.

Mom's birthday today. Happy, happy birthday, mom! Let's hope that it doesn't take me six months to get your birthday gift to you this year.

Could I say more? Fill you in on the amazing details of my vacation, like seeing the Japanese nun with the tiny black-clad feet in the bathroom at Haneda airport? And the girls in winter kimono, wearing glittering makeup and sharing a shivering Chihuahua at the jam-packed, incense-scented 3am shrine in Naruto , early-early on January first? Oooh, I could. But forgive me. I'm tired, and I want to play alone.

Namaste

Endrene

I remember writing about autumn-blooming flowers. Now I'm seeing the late-late-autumn flowers, the winter flowers. The tsubaki and the other brilliant fuchsia and white flowers that I cannot name. And the weather is icy-cool, and windy, and the palm trees blow and rattle. And it snowed for the first time this winter yesterday; random, splattery gobbets of snow that didn't stick and didn't stay... I was so dazed with fatigue that I hardly noticed them. I regret that now. I should have at least tried to catch one on my tongue.

We walked through the snow as we were leaving the bowling alley. Alex, Melissa, Jenna and I had two games in the bustling Dia Lanes that is across the street from my apartment. I finally managed to break 90; my final score was 110... hooray for me! My bedroom (actually, my only room) faces the plain white wall of the bowling alley, and at night it sounds like thunder; once I got used to the sound, it became oddly comforting. On the other side of the apartment building, there are train tracks. I am blanketed by sound from all sides, all hours of the day. I woke up at 5am a couple of weeks ago, and in the stillness, I could hear my left neighbor singing (which he always does) and my right neighbor rustling paper. Yes, rustling paper. On the other side of the wall by my head.

My apartment has seemed more and more like a sad little squirrel's nest as time has gone by. I used to think that I wanted to live in a van and drive across the continent of North America. Maybe I still do. But the live in a van part has lost some of its appeal. Maybe the right van would be bigger than my apartment, though. And when I stepped out of the van, the scenery would be different every time. Not just the quick and narrow street that separates me from the white wall of the bowling alley. And I bet you that a van would have more than one range in the kitchenette.

I said I was dazed and fatigued yesterday; with good reason. I mistakenly believed that with most of my co-workers out of the country for vacation, I would revel in the lull and do things like vacuum and organize and write letters and shop for delayed Christmas gifts. I would hermit myself away and read the Dhammapada again. I would draw and paint. I would go to bed early and rise early. I would live out all of my best intentions, get a good start on my New Year's resolutions.

Ha!

Reality-check. I seem to be an inherently social animal. I love my time alone, but I am easily swayed and distracted by a phone-call or text message promising a good time. I worked the last two shifts after Christmas and before this holiday like a robot; I used what little energy I had to try and appear alert and eager for my students. After my shift on the 27th ended, Jenna, Melissa and I caught a brief second wind, borne of the promise of a full week off. No Nova. No explaining what "what's new" means to lower-level students every forty minutes. No obsessive upper-level students wanting detailed explanations of nonsensical English idioms. "'It's a piece of cake'? But how can that mean 'it's easy'? What about cake is easy? And 'The cat has my tongue?' Why? What if I have the cat's tongue? Is it the same?" (If you have a 'cat's tongue' in Japan, it means that you can't handle really hot food. I know better than to ask for an explanation.)

I digress. We went for a drink in a little cafe-bar that is dark and sparse but comfortable, and mural led in a decidedly Rap-1992 style. We went home. I went to bed early. A good beginning, or so I thought. The next day broke clear and bright, and my good intentions went out the window with a text-message from Satoshi; or did I send the first one? Anyway, we had a fabulous afternoon of coffee and yammering about everything in all directions and window shopping. I sank a bundle on a beautiful watch; an early birthday-gift to myself. It's one of those ones that never needs to be wound as long as you are wearing it; perpetual motion. It's gold with a turquoise face. I love it. Satoshi tried on an alligator-strapped watch with an enormous face that had a price tag equal to that of a new car; my stomach spun at the sight of it. I can't imagine owning something that entails such a high degree of responsibility. But mi-e needs are big in Japan. Mi-e (as I understand it) is that it's the look of a thing (or a person) that is most important. So young women will often go hungry for the sake of a designer handbag, identical to every other designer handbag of every other woman that works in her office.

Further digression. I bought my brother a fuzzy frog-suit for Christmas (you'll love it, dude) and Satoshi and I rounded off our day in the Puri-Kura (print club) booths, getting ridiculous stickers made with me peeking out of a toilet and stars exploding out of our heads. Standard fare. I made my way home, fully expecting to vacuum and hermit and read and paint, when I got a message from my old friend Shin, aka Shrine Boy, whom I had not seen for 8 months. Did I have time? Could I meet him for his last party of 2006? I met him at 'our' shrine and we biked many chilly blocks to his apartment; which was astoundingly smaller than mine. When I saw it, I wasn't surprised that the 'party' was only going to be him and me. He's a sweetheart, a little brother of a guy, only 20 years old and impossibly good-natured and full of idealism. We drank beer and ate pizza and watched Japanese comedy shows. I tried to explain the lyrics of a James Blunt song to him; he also loves the Backstreet Boys and Daniel Powter. He was drunk after one can of beer. I decided to go as he was rubbing his eyes and yawning like a three-year old; he biked me to a point where I recognized my surroundings. As I thanked him for the pizza and took my leave, my phone rang. Another friend. Where was I? Could I come out for a drink? Like, now?

Long story short, I went to sleep at about 6:30 am. I woke up at 8am, long enough to text message an apology and a cancellation to my private student. Again at 9 am to take my mom's phone call. Again at noon to get up, and go bowling. After bowling, after glancing nonchalantly at the falling snow, I announced that I was going home for a nap.

I woke up 17 hours later. That brings us to today. Today I made a list, and stuck to it, sort of. Maybe my hermity resolutions are a little too strict, after all. I better ought to stick with my friend's father's favorite saying: "Everything in moderation, including moderation".

Happy New Year.

Christmas eve saw me scrambling to pack up my bags and bike the two-ish blocks to the Boobie Palace. Pancake mix? Check. Gifts? Check. Pajamas? Check. Weighted down, I was lucky that I only fell over once, and managed not to break the bottles of wine and champagne. When I arrived, I was happy to find the place decorated with an array of sparkly garland and a mini tree (about 12 inches high, but a tree is a tree). Joanna and Kat ducked out to get some snacks and some more wine, and Melissa and I chatted and I checked my email. Christmas eve commenced with their return; wine and chocolate consumption, chit-chat and The Scissor Sisters (I regretted not bringing over my two Christmas cd's). We waited until midnight, and then celebrated with a group hug and the opening of some of our gifts. Melissa delighted the three of us by giving each of us a gorgeous pot of flowers; red for Kat, pink for Joanna and white for me. As I was sleeping on the couch, I had the final word on bed-time; I told everyone to get to sleep, otherwise Santa wouldn't come.

I played Santa, and after everyone awoke and emerged, the stocking were opened; a bottle of real maple syrup was included for each girl. I cooked pancakes and eggs (and bacon for the two of us non-vegetarians) and we drank pink champagne mimosas and toasted the bright sunny Christmas morning before scooting off to work.

Work was weird; the teachers were unhappy and incredulous that the students could sign up and arrive to lessons as though this was just any other day. I had expected it though, and so brought a little photo album to work with me, and I began every lesson with it: look, this is my mom, my dad, my brother, my grandparents, my aunts, uncles, cousins. This is Aldergrove in the winter. This is the Santa Claus doll that my brother and I have had our picture taken with for twenty-six years running. This is our Christmas tree. My family has Scottish heritage, so in this picture, my brother and dad are wearing kilts. Sharing my Christmas traditions with the students made the lessons bearable; they appreciated where I was coming from, and I felt like I had given them a different perspective on the holiday.

After work I joined forces with Travis and Neil; we hit the liquor store where I bought the ingredients for poor-man's champagne (apricot brandy and ginger ale; my mom's family Christmas cocktail). The man working at the checkout was dressed in a head-to-toe Ruldoph costume. Ridiculous, but cute. Next, to my tiny apartment to grab the half-cooked ingredients for Christmas dinner. We made our careful way back to Neil's bigger place and I began to cook; Neil helped me locate utensils as Travis mixed my drink and got the carols playing. More folks arrived; soon the apartment was filled with animation. Joanna and Kat madly prepared vegetables (Jeff peeled the carrots), drinks were poured, the breeze was shot in the living room on Neil's enormous heated fuzzy rug. Yes... Heated. FUZZY. Rug. I could live on that thing... Melissa and I made a run to the Lawson's convienience store for some milk. We all ate heartily, including my somewhat runny squash pie with whipped-cream-from-a-can, applied by the skillful hand of Chris, our newest staff member from Los Vegas. We played spoons, and an aptly-named game called 'Once Around, You're Drunk'. We drank too much, and we spilled booze on Neils rug. We laughed. We laughed a LOT. Anyway, it wasn't the Christmas I expected. Maybe it wasn't exactly the Christmas I wanted. But it was great.

Wow, I've over-stayed my yen at the internet cafe and I think I've got to make this quick... mucking about doing research and email and chatting and what-not. It's easy to lose track of time at this cafe; I've started coming to one closer to my house called 'Moby'-- it's awesome because there's a non-smoking section and free ice-cream, in addition to all the other usual delights. Coffee, pop, melon-flavoured slush, all you can drink! Comic books! Billards! All for the low-low price of 100 yen every 15 minutes!

I emailed my Christmas Greetings this year, seeing as I haven't had the time or the patience with the staff at the post office to get much off, other than cards to my immediate family. Sorry to those of you who have enjoyed previous editions of my Christmas 'Muse Letter' (I'm such an anachronistic geek)... I'll try and get a New Year's version off during my holiday, which begins on the 27th. New Years cards are the 'thing' in Japan, anyway. As for Christmas-- well, I can't recall if I said, but I'll be helping to cook dinner for a small group of us Nova-ites, and I'm pretty excited about the menu. I've already been shopping and making lists-- I even asked my friend Neil to look up 'hot toddies', though they don't sound as appetizing when you know the ingredients. Might opt for apple cider instead.

Wow! Christmas is almost here! The space under my festively decorated potted palm is bursting with packages from home (thank you, thank you), but I'm undeniably most curious about the contents of the one my brother sent, on which he scrawled 'Granny Panties Suck' in magic marker. My brother sent me underwear? Thoughtful, or creepy? Well, Sandy isn't really the creepy type... he's just... special. Right, bro?

Anyway, I better go pay my bill... shame I didn't have time for one more melon slush-vanilla ice cream screamer before I left... I suppose my butt will thank me. There's one advantage of the holidays in Japan-- no tempting evil Christmas cookies everywhere! (Though I did consume a quarter of the box of shortbread my grandmother sent me last night- tasted like home!) To all of you out there; happy holidays, and best wishes for you and your families and friends. Make the most of the love you've got around you, because there isn't anything better than love...

Namaste

Endrene

Breathe a sigh of relief, everyone. The ordeal is over, I can sleep again; Nova has decided to renew my contract for another year. Now remains just the pithy business of signing the new contract and getting my new visa. I text-messaged most of my friends and co-workers within minutes of getting the news; as per usual, some the Japanese comments were sweetly funny:

Miho: I can't express how happy I am now! c u day after tomorrow!

Bubu: Sounds good! NOVA took the best way! Because they noticed your ability and what is the most important thing? You got wins!

Yasu: Congratulation!! I am so happy! please enjoy together forever in Japan!

I also recieved invitations to two congratulatory dinners; Satoshi is going to make me something green and healthy on Thursday night (as per my request-- the whole not-using-my-knees-thing has not been kind to the size of my bottom) and then I'm going to blow it the next night at Jenna's cheeeeesy macaroni and cheese party. I've never eaten Scottish macoroni and cheese before. I wonder if it's different somehow? More Mac-tastic, maybe?

I've recently taken a liking to how Bubu puts his hand over his heart whenever he's talking about his mind- the word kokoro means heart, soul, and mind. I'm wondering if Western people would find a greater degree of peace in their day-to-day lives if they could make a greater connection between the three. Anyway, I've been noticing a lot more of the 'small' things lately, since I was under the impression that I was going to be sent home soon. Like how Miho constantly asserts that she's a 'safety driver,' even though she's been corrected several times ("it's safe driver, Miho,") and even though she's not-- she drives that little pink bread-box of a car like a screaming Mimi. Also, things like how the decorative singular vegetables that float in the miso soup are cut to reflect the seasons; in the spring, the paper-thin daikon was shaped like cherry blossoms, now the slices of carrot are shaped like autumn leaves. I'm also trying to pay more attention to how food is prepared; I don't think I could go back to a strictly Western-style diet. I want to know how to make okonomiyaki, tako-yaki, miso, onigiri... and especially how to make the salad dressings that blow my mind. Bubu and Haruko have taught me how to make Niku Jaga-- and they teased me throughout the entire process. Apparently when I attempted to text-message my request for the recipe to Bubu in hiragana, I mispelled and asked for the recipe for Mick Jagger. Mmmm... Rolling Stone Stew. Anyway, it was fun; I'll get around to posting the recipe here one of these days.

As for Christmas... well, only a few days to go, hey? I've been trying to insert Christmassy activities and behavior into my day-to-day life as much as possible, so that I won't feel like I've missed it entirely. The nice thing (in my opinion, anyway) is that all the stores and malls play Christmas music, and have put up lights and little displays. I even heard Kenny and Dolly singing "I'll be Home with Bells On" in the Kiyoei supermarket and Anne Murray crooning over the sushi display at Fuji Grand. It's not exactly the same, but then, I couldn't expect it to be. The plan is to spend Christmas eve at the Boobie Palace with the girls so that when I wake up on Christmas morning, we can open gifts together and enjoy Christmas breakfast. Christmas day I work, but I'm off at two-ish, so I'll head over to another friend's house and start cooking dinner for a few of us. Then hopefully we can gather and drink hot toddies and cut out paper snowflakes and fa-la-la-la-la, and all of that. I'll certainly miss my family, but I'll be with good people that I love, and that love me. What more could I ask for?

Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year...

endrene

Let's hope no news is good news. Still waiting...

Still waiting... only two days to go until Friday. Decision day. As it's my day off, I'll be calling in to talk with my Japanese manager, so see what the verdict is. Last night as I was putting on my coat for the long bike ride home, she shook her head, and said, "if you go, I quit too!" Support feels good.
To answer P.Phobic's question, yes, I have looked into teaching for other companies, and have actually already gotten several suggestions (and even an offer) from teachers at other Eikawa schools. However, I really want to come home next summer for... well, either for the summer or forever, I haven't made up my mind yet. And I can't ethically feel OK signing up with another company, only to dump them mid-contract. And there isn't any company that would be willing to give me more than 10 vacation days a year, so... I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place, as they say. But I'm greased up, baby! And if you squeeze me too tight, I just might shoot sideways. Watch out!

Living under the black wing of Nova is getting to be some pretty sticky business. I got a thorough scolding from the current woman-in-charge of Nova instructors and their comings-and-goings. I thought I had my visa in the bag, but apparently, my calling in sick 5 times this year (and being late twice when I was new and confused) qualifies me as an "unreliable" instructor.
"You know," she said (in a rather sickeningly patronizing voice, I might add) "it just doesn't look good. If you could promise me that you would make an effort to be on time in the future, if we were to renew your contract..." Here I was spurting and choking on words; half of me wanting to say whatever was necessary to make it right, and the larger part of me burning with a white-hot fury that I am unaccustomed to. Hmmm. Kiss her ass, or tell her where to go, and what to do when she got there? She added that everything else looked so good, but there was just the problem of my attendance...
Not wanting to burn any bridges, I went the ass-kissing route. I also had to write a letter, promising that I would be a good and timely little girl in the future. What chafes me is that I have never called in sick when I haven't been sick. Every time I might have liked to extend my vacation, or recover from a hangover, I doggedly went to work and did my job. I'm starting to get really annoyed with working for a company that sees punishment as a more effective means of control than praise. That, and I recently discovered that the Japanese staff members get bonuses twice a year, while foreign personnel get none... what's going on here? At any rate, my kissy-kissy letter might help plead my case for visa renewal. Apparently I'll know for sure on the 15th... my co-workers think it's just scare tactics. I think it's make-me-feel-like-poo tactics.

Dammit, I'm a good teacher. I have never received any complaints from the students. I love and respect the people I teach, and I seem to get the same in response, especially from the kids. But I'm really tired of feeling like a bad guy when everything else says I'm doing a good job. The universe might be pointing me in directions I was previously not ready to go in.

My black mood shattered this morning.

Yesterday, when I woke up, I had a headache that throbbed regardless of Advil or bed rest or cups of tea. I shut the curtains. First I cancelled my private lesson, then when the headache still hadn't dissipated by 3pm, I cancelled my evening shift at Nova. (For that I will pay the penalty of one day's pay; there are no sick days at Nova allowed, especially when called in after the 11am deadline. And I mean pay-- they won't just cut off a day's salary. I owe it to them.) I lay on my back on the heated floor pad, hiding under the kotatsu table like a child, covering my eyes and my ears. My hurt knee bothered me more by its existence than by any actual pain. Ever since I came to Tokushima, to Shikoku island, I have been harbouring a half-secret dream to attempt the 88 Temple Pilgrimage around the island. It's one of the main reasons I requested Shikoku as my first choice for placement when I became a Nova hack. And now... Well, the Doc said to use my knee as little as possible. Walking 1000 miles for three months doesn't exactly fit in with his recommendations. (See this web page for more info: http://travel-write.com/travel_articles/asia/shikoku_88_temple_pilgrimage/index.htm )

I phoned mom this morning after a long loll in bed with a cup of tea and a mildly soppy Christmas romance novel she'd sent in her latest care package. (I only read these things once a year, I swear!) I wanted a sounding board. Was I doing all right here? She assured me that I was all right, that everyone is very proud of me, etc, etc, everything I needed to hear and more. And, apparently, all Capricorns (her, me, my Auntie Joy and her daughter Cathy, my Auntie Flo) are right out of whack. Our planets are doing the funky chicken or something and all of us feel wonky or dissatisfied, and like our work is getting us nowhere. What do you say fellow goat-girls? True or not true? Are you feeling like greasy-grimy-gopher-guts too? Anyway, it felt good to not feel alone in my fog.

Full appreciation of my life hit me like a wall of roses. I have finally got enough rest. The memories of my Kyoto vacation are starting to percolate now that I've recovered from the assault of the hectic adventure. I finally have an idea about what to do for my family for Christmas (albeit, the gifts will be late). I can choose to be happy. I am relatively healthy. My knee hurts, but I talked with Dad-- he had had a similar knee problem a few years ago, up to the point where doctors were going to operate. He started taking sharks cartilage capsules, and hasn't had a problem since; lucky me! The only thing I recognize in the drug store are the bottles with the pictures of sharks on them! And though the thrilling newness of being in this country may have passed away, it doesn't mean that my learning is complete. It doesn't mean that I'm finished discovering.

Here's one of my recent adventures to prove it:

When we got to Nara, I was surprised to see the deer immediately, and was also surprised by their size. I thought they'd be smaller, more delicate. But they were hefty like large goats, and just as persistent, immediately hounding anybody who stepped towards a deer-snack vendor. Thankfully, most of the males had had their antlers lopped off. I say thankfully because you have to remember that it is autumn in Nara-- these animals are in the full swing of rutting season. The bucks strutted sideways through the busy intersections with arched necks, flashing the whites of their eyes and waggling their genitalia at their opposition. Taxis drove carefully around them, as the deer paid no heed. Ume and her mom and I walked on past them, determined to get to the Daibutsu. The deer swarmed all around. They perused the souvenir displays along the path. They napped on the lawns. They followed terrified children who threw the deer-cookies at the animals rather than risk getting close. As we came up the last stone steps through an arbour of golden ginko trees, we had to stop. A wily buck who had escaped being de-antlered was pursuing a doe; she was trying to hide behind groups of people. The buck was getting very frustrated, and let out his horrible deer-scream of a mating call. It wasn't music to the doe's ears, either. She took off through the trees with the buck in hot pursuit. The three of us breathed sighs of relief between exclamations of "abunai!" (dangerous!), and continued on to the Daibutsu.

This guy is big. Re-e-e-eeeally big. He is dark grayish green, with his eyes slitted thoughtfully and his enormous right hand held up in a gesture of peace. He is housed in the worlds largest wooden structure. All around his base, people from everywhere swarm and try to snap his picture in the gloom. Incense burns. Dim sunshine streams through the slats on the sides of the structure. We could walk right around him; behind him and to his left, there was a sort of hole hollowed out in the base of one of the enormous wooden pillars that supports the building. Ume had told me about this hole beforehand. "It's the same size as the Daibutsu's nose-hole. When I was in junior-high-school, we had a class trip to Nara. So, if you can fit through the nose-hole," here, she gestured with a fisted arm, "you will be clever in your life. One of my friends couldn't fit through! We laughed at him so much!" So I understood that if I could fit my arm through the Buddha-sized nostril-hole, I would be granted eternal cleverness. Sweet. However, I had misunderstood. It wasn't your arm you had to get through this nose-hole. It was your whole self! (I told you the Daibutsu was big!) I stood with the rest of the large group of onlookers as child after child scooted through, slick and quick. The adults seemed to just be watching. I wasn't going to let this opportunity for lifetime cleverness just pass me by. I crouched down and examined the hole. "It's pretty big," I thought. "And I can fit into a Japanese 'L' size now... so here goes nothing." I dove in. My arms, my head, my shoulders slid in, no problem. Then... my butt. Oh NO, my butt! I'm stuck! Ume came around the front of the hole to snap a photo of me looking flushed and maniacal. I wriggled and tried to use my feet to push me through; I felt helpful hands shoving at my waggling rump. It was no use, I backed out with a sheepish grin and a red face and exclaimed "saiyaku!" (that sucks!) to the incredulous and giggling crowd. The promise of lifetime cleverness, snatched away! Ume soothed me and pointed out that I had emboldened the rest of the adults; now the previous onlookers were diving through, one after the other. Ume's mom said that what I really needed was for the Daibutsu to have a big sneeze-- that would have pushed me through. I asked her who had been trying to help me through, her or her mom, or...? "Some old ladies," she replied. You can always count on the kindness of strangers in Japan!

I have chondromalacia of my patellae. At least, that was the phrase the doctor pointed to after showing me my x-rays. Am I scaring you yet? No big deal, really, it's just mild chondromalacia of the patellae. What it comes down to is that I used my knee too much in Kyoto, walking up and down temple steps and racing to catch trains and buses, and through shopping arcades and over and through and around and under and back. Then to Nara, to see the deer among the flashing golden colours of the park, the Daibutsu (giant Buddha) with a pinkie finger as large as an average Japanese man, and shopping, and a jillion million leaves in rocket red and alarming yellow and flourescent coral. I saw the thousand red tori gates of Inariyama. I saw the golden temple. I saw the famous zen rock garden. I saw Ninna-ji, and one of the three great gates of Kyoto. I saw the second palace of the... guy. An important guy. And of course, I saw Takarazuka. I think I got myself too hyped up about it; the first story was a historical drama about a samurai named Sakamoto Ryoma and his lover-- not bad, but hard to follow the politics. The stage decoration was weak, the costumes were pretty simple. Ryoma was murdered before intermission, so part two was a disaster called "I LOVE CHOPIN!"... bad dancing and weird costumes. A little trippy, a little laughable-- my friend Ume fell asleep.

Whew. An amazing adventure, to be sure. A million little details assaulted my mind, and I am sure that they will come filtering out in my art and writing for years to come. For now, I am coping with the trauma of being back in Tokushima. God, I make it sound like some horrible thing, being here, now. It's not so bad, it can't be so bad. There are no wars, no starving people. There is a good job, and an apartment in need of dusting, and my little bit of loneliness. I am working on remembering all the good things in my life, to be thankful, etc... and then there are days like yesterday when I just stand in the laundry room sobbing into my clean socks.

I can't say what the matter is, because when I try to figure it out myself, I feel ungrateful. I have so much, and so many good people in my life who hold me up and support me in so many ways; my friends and family who send me thoughtful gifts and postcards and email messages; my Japanese friends who tour me around Kyoto and drop work to take me to the Orthopedic surgeon. I don't lack for love. Only for assurance. What am I doing here?