I have never been so bored in my entire life. It’s spring break and there are no classes, but that doesn’t mean I’m free to do as I please. I now have to report to my Board of Education Office every morning at 8:30 and I can’t leave until after 4:00. I don’t even have the distraction of internet; I'm at home for my lunch break. I’m absolutely sick of reading. I finished off my taxes, even though the paperwork is not due for another two months for me. I ripped and relabeled 20 of my CD’s. I organized the photos that I have taken over the last three months. I went to the bank, the post office, the library, and to lunch by myself. And that was just yesterday. So, what did I do with myself today? Jeff once asked me if I could tweak photos and make people look generally better than they do in real life and I said that I would try. I haven't really played with Photoshop since the unfortunate death of my Aiptek graphics tablet a couple of years ago. Mouseover for the original. It takes a little bit of time to load properly, so please be patient!
I'd like to thank Ms. Britney Spears for so graciously coming under the scrutiny of countless millions of Americans.
Also, my 15-minute quickie. If you can guess what I did to the next photo, I will take you out to dinner!
Currently Reading: iGenetics - Peter J. Russell
Currently Playing: Golfshirt - Nerf Herder
Went clubbing in Osaka yesterday to help a friend celebrate her birthday and again I was reminded of how tired I am of dealing with the meaningless where-are-you-from-do-you-teach-English-how-long-have-you-been-here with men who drunkenly violate my personal space and spill beer on my shoes. Good thing I wasn't wearing nice shoes.
I spent a lot of time last night thinking about what I actually want out of a potential partner. Of course looks and machismo gets your foot in the door, but as I expect men to eventually get past physical appearances, what I'm really looking for is a sense of humor, intelligence, a love for cheesy horror and/or action movies.
Furthermore, should I settle for the company of someone who just makes me laugh, someone who makes me feel comfortable? Or should I seek out someone who will encourage me to think harder, to look more deeply, to challenge myself?
I have the tendency to fall into a rut and get stuck doing the same thing over and over again. It's a familiar and easy way to live life and despite wanting to accomplish more, I can be quite the creature of habit. I find people who are smarter than me to be intimidating; however, maybe that's just what I need to kick my ass into gear and get me thinking about life, the universe, and everything.
Currently Playing: Celebrate You - Veruca Salt
I have made my decision. Guess who's going to
Manchester? I have yet to hear from Cambridge and I'm convinced that Imperial College has lost my application but no matter. Manchester has offered me the most in terms of moral support and of course, money. If I decide to continue my education beyond a masters and pursue a PhD, they have offered to pay nearly all of my tuition fees (which translates to about $60,000 over the course of three years!). I don't know if I'm ready to take that road quite yet, but as Jeff said, a PhD is like a black belt in science. Am I tough enough? We'll see. Although, I did only make it to red belt in tae kwon do.
On a completely unrelated note, it's allergy season here in Japan. I usually don't suffer from hay fever or seasonal allergies or whatever, but here is another thing in this country that's working against me. It's apparently cedar tree pollen that causing my immune system to go completely haywire. This has forced me to carry pocket tissues wherever I go, because I never know when I'll suffer a sudden attack of unstoppable sneezing. Which brings me to another curious observation I have made about Japanese people:
A lot of Japanese women don't like people to know that they perform natural bodily functions like the other 6 billion human beings that walk this Earth.
The most recent example of this is nose-blowing in public. I first noticed a few weeks ago (when the cedar trees first began their rampant dry-sex tree-mating) when I was blowing my nose in the teachers' room. Everyone else was just sniffling constantly and I didn't really think much of it, since it's pretty well known that the Japanese aren't prone to blowing their noses in public unless absolutely necessary. However, I did start to notice that a lot of the female teachers--particularly the younger ones--would go to the bathroom JUST to blow their noses. Male teachers do it in full view of their peers when the need arises, but women retreat into the bathroom as if they were performing some dirty deed. Weird. I still blow my nose in public.
My fellow female ALT's can vouch for me on my next observation. Nearly every public women's bathroom stall is equipped with motion sensor sound boxes that play the sound of rushing water when you enter. Apparently, this sound is supposed to drown out the sound of a person peeing, so that other people in the bathroom CAN'T HEAR YOU PEE. If there isn't a little sound box, women will flush the toilet BEFORE doing the deed so that the sound of the flushing water will act as a surrogate sound box. I have never been so self-conscious of using the toilet in public places as I have become in Japan.
The thing that gets to me is that everyone goes to the bathroom; everyone and everything living and breathing must excrete wastes. It happens. Nature calls and when we have to use a public toilet, everyone knows why. There is no need to cover the sound of your peeing because you know what? Despite what method you may or may not use to try and mask the fact that you are indeed performing a natural function, I, along with everyone else in the bathroom, KNOW WHAT YOU ARE DOING IN THERE. It means you're human.
Yes. Girls eat, drink, breathe, fart, and use the toilet. Get over it. Oh, and we also need to blow our noses, believe it or not.
I'm curious, are men's bathroom stalls also equipped with these magical sound boxes? I'm seriously really curious.
Still Reading: The Robber Bride - Margaret Atwood
I promised snow photos. Unfortunately, I didn't take that many and the ones that I did take are off-center and generally just crappy. I have one salvageable shot of Akakura and here it is:
All you can tell from that is that there are lots of mountains and lots of snow. Sorry.
So, to fill the void left by my inability to deliver the expected goods, I bring you Yowa Junior High School's Graduation, AKA Fobby Finger Fest 2005!
That's Mizutani Takumi. If you recall, he's the student who said that I was fat during one of last year's English classes. I gave him the nickname "Shorty" and we developed a mutual understanding. Strangely enough, he became one of my favorite students. I might even miss his class clown shenanigans. Then again, maybe not.
It's like "Where's Waldo!" Did you know that in every other English-speaking country, they apparently call him "Wally"? Of course, leave it to Americans to screw things up. Anyway, how many fobby fingers can YOU find?
Currently Reading: The Robber Bride - Margarat Atwood
Currently Playing: Lonesome - Unwritten Law
Miles traveled: 3600 (approx.)
Hours spent traveling: 50
Days spent on slopes: 15
Major wipe-outs: 4
Bones broken: 0
The ski/snowboard season is now over (for me anyway) and I have retired Blue Steel after having spent the last three days in Niigata-ken with Shannon, Ruth, Alice, and Jeff. The snow was slushy and wet, but the weather was fantastic and I have a pseudo-raccoon-eyes tan to prove it. Hopefully, that'll fade soon; it's (Kathryn: IT IS) kind of embarrassing.
It was all a bit of a stressful ordeal for me because every Japanese person who skis or snowboards also anticipated the coming of spring and decided to utilize the last three-day weekend of winter to head for the snow-covered hills. The Japanese, being generally more diligent than me, had booked hotels further in advance, leaving me and Alice to call and harass half a dozen hotels and hostels in hopes of finding places to stay. Not to mention the fact that we had to deal with coordinating train times, meeting places, lift passes, and cab rides, and trying to reason with a neurotic hotel proprietress. I guess I had been spoiled by the ease of organizing previous trips and I wasn't prepared for the increased influx of desperate skiers and snowboarders who all had the same brilliant idea of squeezing in one last ride.
The slopes were crowded and the snow was subpar, but the company was good and I think everyone had a pretty good time. Unfortunately, on my last run, I got a bit cocky and decided to try and take a jump, only to land face first in a nice patch of ice and slightly melted snow. I managed to get snow down the front of my jacket and down my pants. Serves me right. But good news is that I managed to survive an entire season without seriously injuring myself or breaking my board in half.
I'm posting from a school computer, so you'll have to wait a little bit for snow photos.
On an entirely side note, Bryan will attempt to stand in line for some ridiculously ludicrous amount of time, all in an attempt to be one of the first to watch the 3rd installment of the prequel from hell: Star Wars Episode III, Revenge of the Sith. Go support
him and
his cause. I'm rooting for you, you crazy bastard!
Currently Reading: From the Dust Returned - Ray Bradbury
iTunes Update: "Stomach Gurgling" is currently unavailable.
Rain vs. Me: Part II
Shannon informed me that it is actually illegal to ride one's bike whilst holding an umbrella (although EVERYONE does it) so out of curiousity, I asked one of the teachers.
JTE: You rode your bike to school with an umbrella?
Me: Yes.
JTE: You should not do that.
Me: But lots of people do it.
JTE: But the students may see you.
Me: And the problem with that is...
JTE: You need to set an example. The other teachers are not allowed to do that.
Me: But the other teachers all have CARS. I don't.
JTE: Yes, but... hmm, difficult. [head tilt to side]
Me: What am I supposed to do then?!
JTE: Hmmm, you cannot ride your bike.
You know what? I don't care what they say. I will ride my bike with or without an umbrella. I will drip water on the floor if I feel like it. Until someone offers be a better solution than "You cannot ride your bike," I will get to school however is most convenient for me. I don't have the time nor the patience for this.
Currently Reading: Sputnik Sweetheart - Haruki Murakami
Currently Playing: Stomach gurgling. It's lunchtime!
And thus ends a long bitter cold winter. Without a doubt, warmer weather is beginning to set in; it is seeping into our drafty cardboard apartments, melting our icy hearts, and making it bearable enough to turn off our kotatsus and electric blankets. But with warmer weather comes rain, and with rain, I get annoyed. Stupid rain.
Last week saw one of the first rain storms of the new season and because I think it's horribly dangerous to ride a bike one handed while trying to carry and umbrella in the other (especially on my route to this particular school, where blind alleys and fast drivers abound), I put on my snowboard jacket and biked to school as fast I possibly could, trying to minimize my exposure to the rain. As I was walking from the front door of the school to the teachers' locker room (maybe about 10 meters. I had every intention to change out of my wet clothes), I ran into the vice principal of our school who said "please, don't drip water on the floor." Actually, he didn't say please. It went more like this:
Kyoto-sensei: [points finger accusingly] No! No water!
Dame-yo!
"Dame-yo" roughly translates to "Don't do that! Bad! Shame on you!" Well asshole, how about you give me a ride to school in your nice DRY car so that I won't track rainwater on your precious floor for crying out loud? I have to ride my bike further than the students do so how about cutting me some slack?
It was raining again today so I decided to try the umbrella-bike thing, so as NOT to get the floor all wet. I quickly discovered this to be a difficult task. I can't steer the bike well with my left hand, so I had to use my right to steer and my left to hold my umbrella. I discovered quickly that my right handle brake is kind of janky and broken so it makes stopping/slowing difficult. My trip to school took nearly twice as long as usual because I was forced to go at a slower pace so as not to depend on my unreliable right brake as much. Needless to say, I was about 5 minutes late to school. Not late for my job--it was still nearly 20 minutes before 1st period's start and I don't teach until 3rd period today--just late for the arbitrary 8:30 a.m. start that was set in my contract.
Kyoto-sensei: [points finger accusingly] You, late!
Yeah, thanks.
Currently reading: Watership Down - Richard Adams
Currently playing: Skinhead BBQ - Dance Hall Crashers
I decided to sell myself out and submit an entry to the JET Program Essay Contest in hopes to snag one of the prizes and help fund my foray into graduate school. But don't worry, I didn't write some cheese-ball "my life in Japan is like the gentle blossoming of the sakura on a warm, spring day." I'll post it here for all to see. If you're bored, read it (it's pretty looooooong, sorry). If you don't want to read it, I hate you. Whatever.
Food For ThoughtNeon lights, compact cars, suit-clad businessmen, candy-colored keitais—I was greeted by the Tokyo streets with the kind of visual overload that can only be experienced through the eyes of a newcomer to this strange, glowing land. Peering through the haze of my jet-lag, I remember thinking that I could take on this country and its people, that I could become an ambassador advocating internationalization, that I could single-handedly transform the small suburban town of my JET posting into a hub of cross-cultural awareness. But first, I needed to eat.
Katsu-don: Familiarity in an Unfamiliar LandOn the night of August 3, 2003, I left the Keio Plaza Hotel, armed with a tenuous optimism and the cautious camaraderie of new-found friendships with fellow JETs. After much aimless wandering, we swooped in on a small restaurant. I ordered katsu-don. I had had it before while living in the States, but after what seemed like days of traveling, I was not really ready to make the plunge into more exotic cuisine. I was pleasantly surprised and duly satisfied by my choice and as the warm rice, pork, and egg filled my stomach, I felt that I was now truly ready to start my life as an English teacher in Japan.
Rice and Chopsticks: The Honeymoon PhaseMy first few lunches in the teachers’ room involved the obligatory conversations revolving around my eating habits, specifically, my ability to eat rice and use chopsticks with a proficiency and ease that rivaled even the best chopstick masters of Japan. I loved being the center of attention. I was a celebrity. I smiled and answered everyone’s questions without a moment’s complaint: yes, many people eat Japanese food in California; yes, I have eaten sushi before; yes, Korean people use chopsticks, too.
Lunch hour quickly became a forum for cultural exchange between me and the other teachers. It facilitated communication and allowed us to learn about each others’ native countries without having to deal with the pressure of overcoming a language barrier. Pointing at a gelatinous cube of konyaku, I asked in broken Japanese about the indiscernible food that regularly appeared in my teishoku box and they asked me, in equally broken English, about the culinary culture of American school lunches. We laughed together as I marveled at the variety of seafood that was consumed and I always made the valiant attempt to try everything passed in my direction, much to the entertainment of the other teachers. I was determined to be accepted into this country and what better way than to prove to everyone that I could eat just about anything they could?
Shishamo: The Brick WallI had always prided myself in my ability to adapt when faced with the unexptected. I was finally beginning to feel comfortable in my small town when on one fateful elementary school visit, I was presented with shishamo. A lesson in humility ensued.
“What is this?” I asked my 4th grade students. “Fish, very delicious,” they chimed in unison. I picked up the deep-fried, battered fish and noticed that it was completely whole. Its head, tail, and bones intact. I prepared myself for battle and I took a BIG BITE. What I found inside was beyond what any mental conditioning could handle. Thirty pairs of students’ eyes stared expectantly up at me as I suspiciously eyed the little white eggs that filled the belly of my shishamo. I realized then that I could not do this. I could never be accepted as anything more than an outsider, a foreigner. I could never be more than something of an oddity to these people and my actions will always be scrutinized, analyzed, and ultimately labeled “gaijin.”
Apples: Woe Is MeThe honeymoon was over and an ugly realization had set in. I no longer desired to make friendly conversation with my teachers. I stopped eating lunch with my students. With the loss of motivation on the social front, my enthusiasm for teaching waned as well. I did what my contract called for, but with the resignation of a defeated JET. I stopped eating Japanese lunches and started bringing my own. Unbeknownst to me, this would cause even more of a ruckus than my unfortunate pregnant fish fiasco.
I took an apple out of my bag and bit into it. I literally turned heads with this act of utter foreignness. I continued to eat in silence, but now highly aware of the eyes boring into me. One of my JTE’s finally leaned in and whispered, “We don’t eat apples THAT way in Japan.” Students came and went, giggling and pointing at my strange eating habit. For days and days this went on and students came into the teachers’ room specifically to gape at their ALT and her apple-eating. I had reached a point in my relationship with those around me that now circumnavigated the polite restraint arising from initial shyness. I was no longer protected by etiquette.
The apple was only the beginning. I was discouraged by what seemed to be a blatant disregard for my feelings and I felt as though I were an animal in a zoo rather than an English teacher. I quickly lost patience with my students, my friends, and my fellow teachers. I was frustrated with my job and with Japan and I was sorely disappointed in myself for not being able to handle this in a more constructive manner.
Tako-yaki: The Turning PointI stumbled out of a club in Osaka at 4 a.m., tired and famished. Nothing was open save for the red and yellow stand with the unmistakable sign proclaiming that “fried octopus balls” were for sale. I had never really tried tako-yaki before, but without thinking, I swallowed one of the doughy balls and tears sprung into my eyes as I burned the entire roof of my mouth. I experienced a clarity of mind that came from the strange combination of sleep deprivation, alcohol, and the searing reality of too-hot food sliding slowly down my esophagus: I was actually enjoying my octopus immensely. Maybe I should rethink my take on food, life, and Japan. Living in my self-centered pity bubble, maybe I was letting the best tako-yaki that Japan had to offer get away, and here I was without even having stopped for a taste.
Sukiyaki and Raw Egg: Open MindWith a renewed fervor, awakened by my eight-legged epiphany, I tried to take a new approach to mingling with the locals. There was no need to be self-conscious of my foreignness, nor was there a need to blend in flawlessly. I tried to revive relationships that had stagnated, and to my great surprise, was rewarded with new friendships. It became more and more apparent to me that my own self-centered view of Japan, and not the insensitivity of the Japanese, was the real culprit in my unhappiness. My teachers and students were no more to blame than I was.
I attended my first sukiyaki party with my friend Tomo and some of the third-year teachers from my junior high school. Exams were over and without the pressure of work ominously looming in the distance, everyone was having a good time laughing, talking, and of course, eating. Round after round of hot sake was passed around and the alcohol worked as a catalyst for good conversation. For the first time in a long while, I let my guard down and made the decision to have a good time and all was well with the world.
A bowl was passed in my direction and I took it, peered into it, and was greeted by a quivering mass of raw egg. I swirled the contents of the bowl around, unsure of what exactly to do with it and Tomo came to the rescue. “You dip your sukiyaki meat in it!” she explained brightly. Instead of launching into the “we don’t eat eggs THAT way in the USA” speech—which would have been heinously hypocritical—I dipped my meat in my raw egg and consumed it, despite its dripping mucous-like appearance.
To say that I absolutely loved it would be a lie, but to say that I did not enjoy some part of the beef-egg ritual would be equally fallacious. There was a thrill in trying something new and getting over my fear that I would drop dead from salmonella food-poisoning. I discovered that I preferred my sukiyaki without the egg, but no one made a big deal out of it and we continued our shared meal with the silent understanding that they would have more egg and I would not. And that was totally OK.
Ramen: My Favorite Japanese MealTonkotsu, miso, shio, shoyu. I do not discriminate; I eat them all. I love the warm soup, the chewy noodles, the crisp bean sprouts, the chili pepper you can sprinkle over the top to make it so spicy that your nose runs when you drink the hot broth. This is one fetish that I have in common with nearly every Japanese person I have ever met and I use it as leverage for conversation ice-breakers when I meet people for the first time. I have eaten ramen in Kyushu and I have braved sub-zero winter weather to wait in line for a bowl of Hokkaido’s finest. When I am slurping down those noodles, all national labels and ethnic distinctions melt away and for five minutes, I feel truly Japanese. No matter how foreign I may be, I have my unbreakable link with Japan and its people and it can be found in a bowl of hot steamy goodness.
Kobe Beef: The EpilogueLiving in Japan has been a journey of personal re-evaluation and growth. I realize now that I came to Japan with preconceived notions and expectations of how Japanese people should act and behave in my presence. I blamed them for their ignorance of the world beyond Japan, while I myself was guilty of being ignorant of Japan’s customs and of being uncompromising in my American-ness. Not only was I unforgiving of my students’ and teachers’ genuine curiosity, I discouraged them from learning and inquiring about my home country by selfishly withdrawing from daily life and retreating to the temporary sanctuary of bitter self-pity. Seeing myself as a martyr, a victim of cultural discrimination and misunderstanding, provided me with what felt like moral superiority, but I learned that in the end, it was a lonely way of life that offered me no rewards.
It was not an easy transition. It required me to see the error of my ways and to take responsibility for my own unhappiness. It required me to try and see things from a different point of view. If I were from a small farming town and I met my very first foreigner, would I not have the same kind of innocent curiosity? Japan has taught me, through example, that patience, hard work, and kindness are virtues that every human being must strive to achieve. With the help of my Japanese friends and my teaching experiences, I have come a long way and I will be able to look back on my two years as a JET with fondness and gratitude.
In the meantime, I will make the best of my remaining five months and I will enjoy Japan’s unique quirks. I could not imagine trying to resist the charms of a country whose cuisine covers the full range of culinary ingenuity, from the simplest of miso soups to the most decadent of colorful sushi platters. Next on the menu is Kobe beef, for there is probably nowhere else in the world where I can make a meal of the tender fatty meat of beer-fed, massaged cows!
There's nothing quite like riding your bike to school at 8 in the morning, enjoying the crisp late-winter air, only to pass by a Japanese businessman in a suit absolutely reeking of cigarette smoke. Can't start your day without having your pre-breakfast cigarette? I hope you don't mind dying of emphysema.
The teacher who sits across from me is also a chain-smoker. He can't go for more than an hour without smoking and takes a cigarette break between every single 45-minute class. He sits more than 8 feet away from me and I can still pick up the acrid smell of nicotine. He also has yellow teeth. Attractive.
The vice-principal of an elementary school that I frequently visit is a closet chain-smoker. He never smokes in public, but the tell-tale signs are there: the smell, the yellow teeth, the persistent hacking cough. He spends most of the day wandering through the teachers' room commenting on the poor health of any of the teachers who happen to be present. He once told a perfectly normal female teacher that she should really diet because she's too fat to ever get married. Because he's such a shining example of good health himself.
Every time I walk out of a restaurant, club, or bar in Japan, I bring with me the aroma of burning tobacco. It sticks to my hair and my clothes. It makes my throat and eyes burn. Most of all, it makes me yearn for the near-fascist anti-smoking laws of California.
Grapefruit: 580
Cottage Cheese: 566
Rice Balls: 530
Milk: 285
For a grand total of 1,961 yen. Shan and Joe were the closest, each having guessed 2000 yen. Eva with a close second, losing by a difference of only 11 yen. To my Japan buddies, I will give you peppermint flavored Eclipse gum (wahoo!!) and to Eva, I will send you some fun Japanese snackie foods!
My brain is all muddled from this gross cold that I have, but luckily for me, it does NOT appear to be the Japanese death flu. Whew.
Currently Reading: Norwegian Wood - Haruki Murakami
Currently Playing: DOn't Let Me Down - No Doubt
