Ray in Japan

The Way of the Force meets The Way of the Bow

2009-04-13T23:49:00.002+09:00

Those who have facebook and who stalk me on a whim will see from my display picture that I am currently taking kyudo - Japanese archery. I've been taking lessons for the last several months here in Tottori. I find it a great way to clear the mind, particularly after a long and grueling day of limbo and English. It has become such an enjoyable activity for me that I've even decided to purchase the equipment and clothing that I may continue to practice when I return to Canada.

Its relaxing nature is a huge appeal for me. On the one hand, it is quite demanding to remember dozens upon dozens of minuscule details as well as to use considerable force to push the bow apart. The trick is to work on one aspect at a time so that it becomes second nature, and then work on another, and another. Eventually, the entire process becomes so seamless and effortless that one doesn't even think when picking up the bow, and before one knows it, an arrow is embedded in the target and one scarcely knows how it got there. That time when your mind is clear and your focus concise is what many strive for in kyudo. More to it, it allows for the taking in of one's surroundings and a more general awareness of self. I think that some of my best memories will be shooting at targets 28 meters away while a gentle, silent snow gracefully falls between us, or practicing while noticing the blooming cherry blossoms out of the corner of my eye.

Most everyone who knows me knows that I have one of the worst memories in recent times. Most everyone who lives with me in Japan will know that I have a terrible memory when it comes to Japanese names. After a year and a half, you'd still be surprised at the sheer number of teachers whom I work with every day whose names I still have no clue about (I really just should study the seating chart...). Hence, it should come to no surprise to those at my kyudo club - if they knew these two facts beforehand - that I still don't know most of their names. A few I do because I talk to them regularly, but most of the other 15 or so members I haven't got a clue about. Then and therefore, my brain being the idle yet creative machine that it is, my friend (who also practices with me) and I have constructed a mechanism for identifying the lovely people we train with - we've given them Star Wars labels.

While he (perhaps) may not delve as in-depth as I do into the universe of the Skywalkers, we keep it simple enough so that anyone who knows the story even a little can pick up on who we're talking about without missing a beat. Here is a short list and description of those individuals (Real names removed to protect the innocent).

Yoda - A short and quirky man, Yoda was and is our main instructor. Like from the training of a young Skywalker, from day one, we were put into intense training that was constantly being critiqued and refined. He is knowledgeable about all things kyudo and regularly oversees everyone at the dojo (training hall). His endearing qualities include a penchant for speaking in ways that confuse most (including himself at times) as well as possessing an infectiously unique laugh, which is used often and at the slightest of things. I might almost go so far as to say that he likes to laugh more than he does to shoot. Don't let his charming personality fool you, though. When he picks up his bow (lightsaber), he'll nail ten targets in a row, then sternly come down on himself for not having perfect form.

Vader - If anything, I'd almost call him a combination of the quirky little 9-year old Anakin as well as the imposing and Dark Side-fuelled Lord of the Sith. When watching him draw, you almost wonder how he could be a kyudo practitioner, just as one looks at the sandy-haired Anakin and thinks, "You're going to be Vader in 13 years? Ha! No way!". He's an older gentleman (though not too old - perhaps in his 60's. Still has a dark head of hair), and when he draws, his arms shake to such a degree that one might think the bow to snap him in two. You'd never believe he was as skilled as he is, just as you'd never believe that a slave from Tatooine could have the highest midi-chlorian count in the galaxy (Ugh, midi-chlorians... What a bad move. /Sidebar). And full folly you to think such things, for just when he is about to release, the trembling stops and this moment of focus consumes him as he put the arrow right through the target, such that I'm surprised that neither the arrow or target doesn't explode due to the raw, surging energy. He'll then hit another target. And another. And another. And another. Such that one might wonder if the force is truly with him - such a force that smacks with the dark side, for no one can be THAT good.

Mace Windu - What can we say about Mace? He's just a badass, through and through. There is no one else in Hollywood who should be given a lightsaber than Samuel L. Jackson. Such qualities found shine through exemplary in this gentleman at the dojo. He moves here and there, instructing and giving advice to all those training, much like a second-in-command. Only when everyone's looking good and refined will he casually pick up his bow and just nail a few targets before pointing something out with another student. His serious, yet calm attitude, as well as a casual sense of humor just exudes badass.

Obi-Wan Kenobi - We named Obi-Wan Obi-Wan because he starts off (going chronologically) as a student before moving on to teacher and then master. This guy possesses the qualities of all three. He practises each and every aspect of the kyudo process with intense focus (master). He will also receive a few tips and pointers from Yoda or Mace on occasion (student). Very rarely will he give advice to the other students, myself and my friend included. However, when he does, one would be wise to listen as what he says usually is of a minor imperfection that will have major shooting ramifications later on (teacher). He is very focused and intense, and has that wisdom-beyond-years that only Alec Guinness could bring out.

Count Dooku - Dooku was just recently named, actually, as we couldn't think of what to call one gentleman. He possessed this maverick quality that we just couldn't quantify. The only person who would come close would have been Mace Windu - a name we had already given away. It was only when we considered the Dark Side that we did land on the Sith Lord. Dooku is a man of words and action. He'll draw in the other students with distracting yet captivating conversation, yet he also has the power to back it up as he elegant and graceful style will make an arrow happy to be sitting on the bow. As with Vader, his uncanny powers also reek strongly of the Dark Side.

Boba Fett - Boba Fett has qualities similar to Anakin in that you may think that such a cute kid would be incapable of unspeakable acts upon the targets, but charade will you be when you see him bust out his own personal arsenal of bows and arrows. He almost strikes you as a hunter, who if prey does escape him (or hitting the target escapes him), he'll soon be back like the Empire to rain shot after shot upon it. His pursuit of a hit may elude him at times, but it never has far to run.

Aunt Beru - This delightful woman has all the qualities of a grandmother or older aunt: She's always giving the kids compliments and teasing the other boys. One look @ her and you just think, "Auntie!" While she may not own the targets as much as the other Masters, her form is exquisite and shows that she means business.

Wedge - Wedge was a tough one to cast. We couldn't think of any other Jedi or Sith to label him as, so we instead realized that he was like the steady wingman that you'd want to have beside you any day. He's always talking to and supporting us. Usually, we'll just idle time away chatting about this and that. His easygoing manner has the air of a hotshot pilot just home from taking down a Death Star.

Palpatine - The ultimate in the Dark Side. In the movies, he's shown to be on par - if not slightly better - than Master Yoda; just on the opposite side of the coin. In reality, their affiliations are both of the light, but in terms of skill, this description isn't far from the truth. I believe he was there when we first arrive, but went away for a long hiatus. When he did return, it was as though he were a mysterious stranger who just walked in one day and starting hitting targets like it was his job. My immediate reaction was Dark Side from him. And while he looks like the oldest of us, the Force Lighting springs from his fingers to make it look like his arrow were possessed. His form and technique leave very little to be desired.

At present, we're still trying to cast Padme, Leia, and Han Solo. We're still deliberating, so updates will come after a few more practices and we test out their monikers in person.

I was just going to buy a pillow...

2009-03-27T15:46:00.008+09:00

Went out today to get a pair of pillows after having a discussion with a friend of mine regarding not getting a decent night's sleep and us thinking it had to do with our sleeping equipment. Then and therefore, we went to the store last night to check out new pillows. Finding the selection somewhat lacking, we planned to go the next day to a larger and more stocked store. I also got it in my head to pop by the shoe store down the street as I desperately need a new pair of kicks (the store is somewhat far by foot and too cold by bicycle, so having my friend and his lovely car takes care of that problem).

At lunchtime today, maybe four hours ago, off we went to the local home centre. We did indeed succeed in locating new pillows, however he got it into his mind to pick up a new mattress pad while he was at it, thinking it could only do more good than harm. My idling while he unwrapped and test-slept in several pads led me to unintentionally locate a pad the same size as my bed - at a good price, too. Ching-ching. Extra purchase count: 1. The selection of pillowcases, though, was not as plentiful, so we decided to go back to the same store we were at the previous night to have a look.

Oh by the way. I decided to get one more pillow than I needed to.
Extra purchase count: 2.

Next stop was the shoe store. Perhaps the only shoe store to carry larger than a size 28 in a select number of models (To give you an idea, a Japanese 28 is about an American/Canadian 9.5 or 10. I typically wear 11, so that nets me a Japanese 28.5 or so). No success on locating anything good there, so we thought about going to the shoe stores in the mall that has the aforementioned no-pillow-selection-but-possibly-pillowcases store.

Arrival @ the mall. We go to the first shoe store, whereupon I locate a nice pair of runners. I found a great burgundy runner/dress shoe combo, however they didn't have my size. Nevertheless, the idea of brown/burgundy shoes stuck in there. My friend also saw shoes that he likes, but decided against them at the moment of truth: When he was at the register. However, now, he was also of the mind to buy shoes (that he didn't need).

From there, we got to the no-pillow-selection-but-possibly-pillowcases store. He didn't find shoes, but I found pillowcases. Since one of the those pillowcases was for the pillow that I didn't need -> Extra purchase count: 3.

On our way out, we pass the second shoe store, which at first glance appeared to be only women's shoes. At the last second, the vaunted corners of our eyes did spy some men's shoes. Ray in a shoe store + having it in Ray's mind to buy shoes + locating a pair of brown shoes in his size = Extra purchase count: 4.

ALMOST at the exit to the mall, my friend decided to look at his first cancelled pair of shoes one more time. Five minutes later, he had them in a bag in his hand.

So let's have a recap.

Original mission:
1 pillow @ $9.80.

Actual Results:
2 pillows @ $9.80
1 mattress pad @ $35
2 pairs of shoes @ approx. $60 each
=
Excess purchase amount of $164.80 = Fail

And... We're back

2009-03-12T18:48:00.001+09:00

Ok, so just yesterday I had to get a facebook post bemoaning me for not putting up a new blog in three months. I’ll totally concede that I have been lazy (busy, bored, unmotivated, unimaginative, etc.) over the last several weeks; strangely enough even, I even started an entry yesterday with the intention of putting it up by evening. However, with the kick to my butt swiftly delivered, I shall now give a quick taste of these past three months in a nutshell.

The biggest and most relevant news is already known to a few, so I may as well enlighten the rest so we’re all on even playing field. I’ve decided not to renew my contract with JET and thus I will be returning home to the True North, strong and free this coming summer. I’d like to say that it was an easy decision, but I can’t. Instead, I’ll say it was a simple decision (If you didn’t know by now, I’m an English teacher). It happened when I was talking to someone and they became the 9,000th person to ask me, “So are you going to stay another year?” Before I had the chance to give my detailed outline of an answer that indicated that I hadn’t, my brain shut down. Every thought evaporated, every image flickered out. I think I may even have forgotten to breathe for a few moments. During all of that, a single sentence remained both audible and visible in my mind’s eye, alone in the darkness: “You are going home next year.” Returning from my cosmic trip to the Astral Plane, I dwelled on the ramifications of such a vision, and every cell in my body lifted a pint to chime its miniscule approval to the course of action.

When I got the forms on which to indicate my choice, it was a very quick and painless thing to mark an x in the corresponding box. That was that, and for many weeks I didn’t even give it a simple thought. It was only January or February that a number of reasons for staying hit me like the wave that flipped the Poseidon. Salary, fun and excitement, studying Japanese… I suddenly found myself searching for the ctrl+z combination that would bring me back to October in a frantic panic and mini-breakdown. A few good talks and/or pints later, I came to realize – and still do – I think – that I have made the right choice in deciding to come home.

NOW the question has changed from “So are you going to stay another year?” to “So what will you do next year when you’re back?” For the first time in my life, I have no plan for the future, and I have no shame in saying that it scares the hell out of me. My only inkling into what I’ll get accomplished is that I’ll take a few weeks to get re-acclimatized to Canada again. This includes spending time with my family, looking up old friends, visiting places I haven’t seen in years, and eating tons of bad-for-me foods. Once all that’s done, I’ve got choice aplenty before me, and no compass to point me to the quote-unquote right choice. Now, there are a great number of people who seem to take delight in telling me that I’m young and have all kinds of time and nothing to tie me down to anything and that the world is basically my oyster. That’s all well and good to say, but I’d much prefer to not be ignorant as to my future, thank you very much. Now, I’m not saying that I’d like to know it all and be led by the hand by fate, but to have SOME idea, not matter how vague, would help to assuage some of this trepidation. Oh, by the way, giving some thought to becoming a teacher. Ha, there ya go.

"Of all the onsen, of all of Japan, you had to walk into mine..."

2008-12-02T22:12:00.000+09:00

Happened to find myself in an onsen town this weekend. An onsen town is almost like a resort - building upon building as far as you can see (which isn't very far since this is a town we're talking about) and all of it either ryokan or onsen (Japanese-style inn and hot sprint, respectively. If either of these terms is radically unfamiliar, I would direct you to wikipedia for details). It's the kind of place that Japanese people escape to to be Japanese for a few days. They thrust off the shackles of work and home life and spend a weekend wearing yukata (think kimono, but much less elaborate) and eating traditional meals. I was just there for the day to take in the leaves and onsen and relax from a busy week of two days' work.

So eventually I found myself in the changing room of one such onsen. Looking around, I noticed that everyone had a small wash towel with them to either spread water around or hide their shame. I had a quick look around and didn't see from where they had gotten the towels. I thought that perhaps they received them when they paid for admission, but as I was not properly dressed at this point, I dismissed that as a thing past. By the time I was good and read for onsen-ing, I felt slightly defeated and confused, and so decided to ask someone.

A much older gentleman was changing beside me and I noticed that he had one, and so I gently tapped his shoulder and said, "Sumimasen. Sono taoru wa..." (Excuse me, but about that towel...). The gentleman straightened up and replied, "I brought this towel with me from my hotel," - IN PERFECT ENGLISH. Before my initial shock wore off and I could think of what to ask him next, he continued with, "What hotel are you staying at?" Instinct still held me and so - being in Japan - I replied with "Ichi nichi juu dake" (Only for today). "Oh, I see," was his reply, "If you were staying, they would issue you a towel. But I guess you're out of luck, I'm sorry." I'm still reeling that this man, looking older than my grandfather, was relaying this info to me in grammar and pronunciation that would make a British linguistics professor squeal with delight.

His curiosity continued on: "Where are you from?" "Tottori," I replied, at this point in English. "I see. But where are you from in the world?" "Oh. Canada." "Canada, eh? (He said 'eh', and not in a patronizing matter) Toronto? Vancouver?" "Toronto. Very near to it, in fact." "Ah, Toronto. I've been once. Only for a few days though. Wonderful city." All this while we were continuing the conversation from the changing room into the onsen proper and then into the bath itself. To be honest, I don't know what surprised those watching more: The African-looking fellow walking into the bath, or the Japanese man speaking perfect English. Whatever it was, we seemed to entrance everyone's attention. He explained that his English had become so good as a result of business trips. He had been working for a cotton import company for more than 50 years and in that time had been to more than 50 countries across every continent except for Antarctica. "No cotton there," he said with a laugh. He was by now chairman of the company and his son was president, running the show. He mostly just attends meetings, which isn't bad for a 79 year-old.

He eventually excused himself and headed out of the bath, leaving me to contemplate. Of all the people I could have spoken to in all of the onsen in the city, I happened to speak to someone who'd reply in pera-pera (fluent; natural) English - who also happened to be probably one of the oldest people in the bath that evening. Furthermore, I had taken an entire course of Japanese Business and learned about the runaway economy of the 60s, 70s, and 80s, and here I got to speak with someone who was first-hand at the forefront of it. Add to it the stories he told me of being all around the world while historical events were taking place. It just goes to show that there are surprises under every nook and cranny, every corner that Japan can fit into its California-sized borders. I'm just glad that I gave him another chance to practice his flawless English.

The World of Balance

2008-12-01T22:47:00.002+09:00

This could be the mother of all late posts by this kid. The events of this happening occurred in mid-September. I started the post and then saved and forgot about it. A half hour ago, I rediscovered it, and can now finally finish it. It belongs in the September pile, but I figure that no one would notice it there, so here it is, albeit late. To make up for tardiness, I put lots of pictures.

Preemptive sidebar: If you can identify which Final Fantasy game this is from, you get ten points.

What do random rides in BMWs, howling baboons, and love hotels have in common? This weekend.

It's funny that one can get cabin fever being in an entire prefecture. But this was my case up until a few days ago. Since my family's visit in mid-June (which I REALLY should write about...), I haven't been so much as across the border in a neighbouring prefecture in almost two months. All and all, it's not such a bad thing since I have many things around me to keep me busy. However, the patient realization of it all sort of hit me periodically like a metaphysical ton of bricks. Then and therefore, when I got the call from one of me favorite birds Renate to mission out for a long weekend, I gave it the green light and headed out me door.

A terribly oppressive morning later at 5 AM, I found meself on an express train bound for Himeji, which was then followed by a shinkansen over to Nagoya. I was rather excited to be riding the shinkansen as I had been looking forward to such a thing since I arrived. The badboy was much more crowded than I expected and so we were forced to stand in the hallway for about half the trip. Once the train started off and we went to full power, I must admit that found it somewhat... underwhelming. Granted we were moving at an incredible speed, I was imagining us to be going so fast that the view outside would resemble the streaks of light you see going at warp speed on Star Trek. This was sadly not the case, and so it was more a measure of time than visual cue that told me we'd made a long distance in a short amount of time. What seemed like only thirty-five minutes or so later and we found ourselves almost three or four hours by car from where we were.

We went straight from there to another city north of Nagoya called Inuyama. I myself would never have heard about it all all were it not for Renate researching and finding it. We had two reasons for going there. The first was the Monkey Park. No, I haven't been in Japan too long to not realize what I'm writing; yes, you did read that right. The Monkey Park. Essentially a zoo filled with various species of monkey. On paper, I thought her mad to seriously suggest such a place, but in the end it turned out to be quite fun. Especially because of the unexpected bonuses that came along with it.

For one thing, there were the kids. Being a place filled with monkeys, naturally many families were keen to bring their lil'un's to run around and see the animals. Thus, everywhere you went there were kids, kids, kids. And to say that a single Japanese child is two levels beyond cute is an understatement. But when you enclose a space with hundreds of them, your cute meter goes right through the roof and you're put into this lolly-pop, fairy tale, cloud-9-dreamy, euphoric high brought about by seeing all the happy and bubbly kids. Anyone having a bad day need only to go to the Monkey Park for five minutes and your mood is instantly improved - you don't even need to see a single monkey.

After monkey madness had taken us over, we walked to Inuyama castle - which is more like a 25 minute walk as opposed to the ten minutes that is advertised. I thoroughly enjoyed it as it is still one of the "old-school" castles and not one of the modern renovations that has removed the interiors and instead rebuilt them as museums. As we buy our tickets, the lady behind the glass asks my friend whether we'd like an English interpreter to accompany us. We agreed, and not a minute later a woman comes darting down the path breathlessly. How in the world did she know? Beats me. Japanese telepathy, perhaps. She mentioned that she'd studied English for a year in Nebraska, which caused the both of us to tilt our heads slightly and wonder why someone from Japan would seek out Nebraska as a place to learn English. (Prove me wrong, Lincoln, prove me wrong!)

Lunch and a wee bit of shopping later, we trained it back to Nagoya and finally to our hotel just outside of the city centre. Throwing fatigue to the wind (by this time [late afternoon], we'd been up 13, 14 hours), we went back the way we came into the city to hit up an orchid garden that Renate had found in her research. I must admit that I was a touch reticent to explore this one at first since I'm usually a "look and move on" person when it comes to flowers.

The next goal was to try and track down a Moroccan restaurant that existed somewhere in the city. By this time, we was mad hungry, but decided to stick it out for the hopes of trying something new. One helpful subway worker later, we did indeed manage to find the place. Dinner came with a show as a rather nimble belly dancer made her way out about half way through dinner to wow the crowd with moves that would make many a clubrat blush.

Stomachs satisfied, we returned to the hotel to partake in the spa. Our hotel fees covered a trip to a spa/onsen resort that happened to be conveniently attached to the hotel. It was nice to be able to relax after a long day by taking a dip in a pool of steaming hot, skin-scalding, can't-breath-'cause-it's-too-humid water. However, I'm convinced that the blissful visit later reeked havoc upon my system. Perhaps it was the raised body temperature coming into contact with the air-conditioned room, I'm not sure. But whatever it was, Ray's body was not feeling good the next morning.

Next day, bright and genki, was Nagoya castle. Two castles in one trip? Can we risk it? I think so! Now again, I love Japanese castles. You take one look and can almost feel like a medieval warrior being scared spitless and looking up at his own impending doom on orders to scale the badboy. For me, though, it's such a treat to see the original structures as they were laid out all those years ago. Nagoya, due to earthquakes, fires, and wars, was a reconstruct of the original splendor. Therefore, the interior was a modern museum, complete with AC, stairs, the whole nine years. Don't get me wrong, every castle is a mindblow and walking the grounds alone is worth the trip. Sue me, I'm just a historical funny pants.

After departing the castle, we happenstanced upon a Noh theatre just outside the castle. I had done a paper on Japanese drama, in particular Kabubi, however I was still nonetheless fascinated by Noh. Noh, for those not familiar, is a dramatic form hundreds of years old - a thousand, if I'm not mistaken. Everyone moves about painstakingly slow, wears masks and speaks in tongues I couldn't even fathom. Nonetheless, it's traditional, so everyone loves it. Back from the tangent, so we couldn't enter the theatre proper as it's only open during performances, but we could still see exhibits showcasing the theatres history, Noh in general, and famous plays.

After wandering the mean streets of Nagoya for another hour, we decided to hit up Ise at Renate's suggestion. Ise is a city a ways around Ise bay from Nagoya, taking about two or so hours by train. She had studied about a famous shrine located there that only the Emperor and a select few high ranking priests were allowed to enter. Commoners were (and are) not allowed to even see it; it's hidden behind a wooden fence surrounding all but the roof. I had no clue what any of it was about, but I was nonetheless gungho. We arrived in city and caught a cab ride from yet another infamous talk-your-ear-off Japenese taxi driver, who was quite endearing in his enthusiam, actually.

One more shrine up and down with, we soon found ourselves with the trouble of finding a way back to the train station. We'd discovered that the last bus was in about a half an hour, so we sat down in the shelter next to a young Japanese couple. Out of nowhere, an older Japanese man appeared and started talking to the couple. He was relating to them that the bus takes a good 20+ minutes or so, and how if they walked up one or two stops they could save a dollar or two on the fare. All the while we (Renate and I) were listening but making no indication that we could understand. He soon started talking about driving them to the station instead and asking their opinion. They seemed a little undecisive, and at this point the man metioned the "other people sitting there," - reference to my friend and I. I looked at him at this; he asked me if I could understand him. I told him that I did and that gave him further cause to press him point of driving. In my head, I figured that he was a taxi driver, however he wasn't wearing a uniform or anything and appeared to be quite casual. Doing the math in my head, I found it to be almost the same price split four ways if we took a taxi, so I said that I was willing. The other couple agreed and so we headed over to his car.

I was expecting to see one of the usual black, homogonous Japanese taxis that seem to be the standard in every city in the country. Instead, we roll up besides a brand new BMW sedan done up to the nines. NOW I'm thinking that this is some sort of limosuine thing that will cost us more. Starting to regret my decision, but I made my bed, so I figured I may as well lay in it. I popped in the passenger side and we were all off. I immediately noticed that there was no meter. Was it a flat-rate service? The whole way back the man was chatting me up, asking me where I was from, if I knew about the shrines in Ise, what I was doing in Japan, my life's story, basically. He was incredibly friendly and more than anything was curious about my home country and how I came to be there. Before I knew it, we arrived at the station. I figured that the bill was coming now, so I got out of the cab and drew my wallet, asking how much to pay. The man smiled and said (In Japanese), "Oh, no charge at all. I was just glad to talk with you. Have a good night!", and with that he climbed back into his car and drove off with a wave. Dumbfounded by the turn of events, I turn to the Japanese couple who up to this point hadn't said a word. The man looked at me and said (In English), "Lucky", and with a nod he and his lady walked off into the night.

We caught a train from there to Osaka where we decided to spend the night. Renate had made arrangements for us to grab places in a capsule hotel. An... interesting experience, to say the least. Yes, it had enough space for one person to be ok. Not luxurious by any means, but it gets the job done. If I had my call, I think I'd do an internet cafe next time. Leather couch and free drinks wins out. The reason that I mentioned love hotels in the preface was that this capsule hotel seemed to be in Love Hotel Central. Every building around it for blocks around was a love hotel. In my masculine immaturity, I'd take a look at a couple walking into one and think, "Ha! I know what you're up to!"

Shopping and walking followed the next day. Not too much excitement for those who know Osaka up and down by now. If I could put the weekend into a nutshell, it would be that monkeys are loud, Nagoya is a lovely city, and one should never underestimate the kindness of strangers in Japan.

Arie: A Taste of Home

2008-11-10T22:12:00.000+09:00

For those who may not know, I've recently made the official call to return to Canada at the end of this JET year. Come next August, I'll lose my semi-ex-pat status and be among those called 'Canadian' once again. And y'know, it's funny. Now that the return plans have been etched in stone, I find myself becoming that much more nostalgic about the people and places I left behind, thinking about them more and more. Luckily, however, my melancholy state of mind has been curbed by the delicious, delicious events of yesterday.

One of my two schools had school festival yesterday. The theme of day one of three was food. Cooking, selling, producing, etc. Therein, I assisted one of the classes with the preparation of a somewhat familiar dish: Jerk Chicken.
Background: One of my students has quite a love and appreciation of West Indian music, particularly reggae and the like. Very nice boy who never speaks English to me, but often has me listen to the latest song he's bought or asks me a random question about Jamaica and my family. As school festival approached, his class decided to do jerk and, being the only one around who knows anything about it, I was asked to lend a hand. So I had some bottles shipped in from Canada and told them how to make it.

There was a small hiccup at the start as the fire for the barbecue wouldn't light, so I started to get a little apprehensive. However, assistance from one or two teachers soon had us with supercharged charcoal before we knew it. No sooner had we thrown the first few pieces on the grill did we attract the attention of students and local townspeople alike. It was almost a steady stream of selling pieces and throwing new ones on. I was a touch worried that we'd have leftover by the end of the day, but a good hour before the food stalls were to close, we'd sold the last of the 120+ pieces we'd prepared. What's more, I was a little worried that the taste and/or spice wouldn't agree with people, and yet I heard 'oishi' 's (JPN: Delicious) left, right, and centre, and marvels at 80 year olds tearing through it like it was nothing. It left me feeling quite pleased that I could pass on a bit of my own culture to people who may or may not have known much about it before. And I've learned that the best way to effect grassroots internationalization is through the stomach.

Footnote: Of course, I was taking little bits of chicken as the day went on. Even when a piece hit the ground, and it was the only one left at the end of the day... Hey! The other side was still good.

How My Students would decide the US Presidental Election

2008-11-05T21:42:00.000+09:00

Hats off to one of my JTEs. Truly. This woman is like God in Japanese, English-speaking, teaching form. Senator Obama been declared President-elect not one hour prior, and yet she had already designed a worksheet and lesson on the fly for her next class. Upon completion, she asked me to accompany her as we had been talking about it all day up to this point and she wanted me to explain to the students what the election meant for America, Canada, and indeed, the world. I happily obliged, but not before donning my Obama campaign button that had been oh so kindly given to me many months before by one Heath.

And so apporximately one hour after the 270th vote had been posted, I found myself in front of a classroom of high school students and explaining to them how the American election system worked (A shock to me, more than anyone. I can barely explain how the Canadian one works). The highlight of the lesson came during the explanation of how the voting worked and the states having electoral votes. One student asked, "So what happens if the two candidates are tied?"

A girl immediately replied, "Janken?"

...

Arguably, the literal fate of the world being decided by a round of janken.

...

After recovering from my spout of laughter, a thought entered my head: "Would playing janken to decide global socio-economic politics really be that bad?"

Should Students Spend Time Earning Money?

2008-10-03T21:57:00.000+09:00

This happened in class not 30 minutes ago. Long story short, a student gave a great answer to a question asked in class, so much so that I feel compelled to post it. Also, this should be that much more impressive for those who have ever taught a class in Japan and know the tasking effort of asking a student to give his or her opinion.

Note: I can't remember what was said verbatim, so this is just as close as I can put it. Also, names are changed to protect the innocent.

Teacher: So let's practice making rebuttals. I will take a sentence from the passage (a short essay that he made on the topic 'Students should spend three months earning money') and make a rebuttal about it. Then Ray will make a rebuttal about my sentence. After that, you will make a rebuttal about Ray's sentence. OK, here we go. "The author says that students may waste the money that they earn, but I think that earning money by themselves will help students realize the value of money."

After hearing this, I had no clue how to rebut that because I agree with it. However, I had to play devil's advocate and so I came up with.

Ray: "I see your point, but I believe that some students still won't know the true value of money."

Not the best thing, but I simply couldn't come up with anything else. We then gave the students about one minute to think about it and form a rebuttal.

Teacher: OK, so today is the third... Who is student number 3.... Ah, Rina. Please give your rebuttal to Ray's sentence.

Rina: I see your point that we may not know the true value now (she emphasized 'true'), but I disagree. When we start earning money when we are 20 or 21, if we make a mistake or get into trouble, there will be no one to help us. But now, since we are still students, if we have any trouble with our money, our family or friends can help us. So it is a good idea to learn the responsibility now so that we are prepared when we are adults.

In our heads, my teacher and I have our mouths held open aghast in stupefaction.

Teacher: 素晴らしい！ (Eng: Incredible; amazing; wonderful)

Again, for those of you who know what it's like to ask a student their opinion on something - even in Japanese - I think you'll see the significance.

Arie

2008-06-19T20:43:00.000+09:00

As if the surreal hadn't happened enough in this twilight zone, yesterday I had to have my teacher turn to me while conversing with a student (who quite fancies reggae music) and ask, "Excuse me Ray, but the student has a question. What is a bong? I can't find it in my dictionary."
So I explained. Fully.
...
Yeah. Fun day.

Videos, Videos

2008-04-10T19:32:00.000+09:00

I've little by little been amassing a small collection of videos that I've as of yet been unwilling/unable to post here for all to see, until just recently when I noticed the small little "post video" button that's always been beside the "post picture" button.
Apologies for my boneheadedness.
I'll list the associated blog entries with each one.

So please, grab a popcorn and enjoy a few sights and sounds from Japan.

Written just after "Did that just really happen?": This is Shan-Shan festival. It's an umbrella dance that happens in the first week of August that originally was an appeal for rain during a drought. Now, we just watch the dances all day and eat all kinds of insanely good food from vendors that line the route down the main street of the city.

From "Mochi, Mochi, Mochi, I made you out of rice...": This is the process of making mochi. The lady is an English teacher from one of my schools, and the man striking the rice is a gym teacher from my other school. They are fraternal twins. Cosmic, no? It also helps explain the trust for one another that she isn't afraid that he crush her hand.

From "Welcome 2008, あけおめ": This is Shibuya crossing, possibly the busiest pedestrian crossing in the world. I took this at about 9 or 10 AM on a Sunday morning during vacation when much of the city was more empty than usual. Yet it was still busy as all this. Could you imagine it at 9 AM Monday morning?

Entry forthcoming: Sumo. 'Nuff said.

From "Yazu-Ko FIGHTO!!!": One of the cheers that we did during our baseball team's first game. Our team was batting, and we're chanting the batter's - Yuusuke - name. See if you can pick it out.

Yazu-Ko FIGHTO!!!

2008-03-27T21:41:00.000+09:00

Background: Before I even get into this one, I must explain both baseball in Japan, and Koshien. First off, to say that baseball in Japan is big would be one the grossest understatements of all time. So much that it makes me laugh. So much that reading the sentence I just wrote caused a giggle. Baseball is to Japan as hockey is to Canada as football is to America as football (the original; get it right) is to Europe as... Well, you get the idea. Games sell out days and weeks in advance, and TVs across the country light up when a match is played.

Now, you might think that since high school teams are naturally of a lower plateau than professional ball that they wouldn't be as popular. Wrong. If anything, they're even more so. It continues the prevalent theme here of being cool by association. Just as the high school/university you go to, city that you live in, and job that you hold have important ramifications for self both externally and internally, the high school baseball team is just one more extension. It's a way to rally the community together as well as provide for identity for the person: "MY school is the best in the prefecture. Nwah!"

Second part of the prelude is Koshien. Hanshin Koshien Stadium is the 73 year-old badboy that's holds the annual high school baseball tournament. It is also home to the Hanshin Tigers professional baseball club, but the high school tournaments carry such weight that the Tigers' schedule will be rearranged to have away games during said times to make room. That should give you some indication as to how insane these tournaments are. A tournament is held in spring and summer, with the spring one being invitational (Usually one team from each prefecture or region; about 36 teams) and the summer one involving a team from each prefecture (two from Tokyo and Hokkaido each; 49 teams). Conquering your inner demons, slaying the Emperor and bringing balance to The Force... I mean, beating the other teams in your prefecture is enough to get you a trip to Koshien. Just being able to go is an honor in itself. Even if you're out the first round, when you get home, you can still rub your nose in anyone within about 50 km's face that you're better than all of them. And if you win... Well, you're basically God for the rest of your life. You can tell everyone, "Yeah, me and my team won @ Koshien in xxxx," and olive branches will drop to your feet.

Wouldn't you know it. The year I start in Japan is the year we make it to Koshien. Huzzah! Now, @ the first, I was just kinda "meh" about the whole thing since I'm not a huge baseball fan to begin with, however enough hoopla around here about just what it means to everyone @ school and the community gave me a bit of genki-ness on the matter. Not to mention that I've watched the baseball team train every day (even weekends) really hard for each and every game, so I thought it a great chance to see them in action. Finally, my desire to see a Japanese baseball game in action and all the associated insanity would be satiated by this chance, so that sealed it.

A Tuesday ungodly wakeup of 4 AM and being @ school for 5:15 AM and on a bus by 5:45 AM later, we found ourselves arriving just outside of Koge around 10:30 or so. You know that this was the place as there were high school kids aplenty about. And what rocked was the number of local residents of our town that made the 3 hour mission to come and cheer the team on (See above - RE: Community Rally). We all 500 or so of us swarm the stadium to find it relatively full of people, something I was a little surprised by considering it was the middle of a Tuesday morning.

Both teams have their schools come out to egg them on, but don't think that it's just sitting in the stands and cheering. Oh, little Japan, just have to one-up us in any and everything. We bring with us Oendan. Oendan is like a cheerleading section, except that everyone is a cheerleader. Like, y'know? There are several people @ the front who lead all of us in a cheer, and the crowd responds and yells and makes noise and whatever. There are actual cheerleaders all up and down the aisle to complement us, and the school band provides the music. And we do nothing but cheer. When our team is up to bat, we include the name of the batter in the cheer, and cheer until our side is retired, then we can chill, but when we make an out while playing the field, we do a special out cheer that includes the name of whoever made the out. All and all, you're actually exhausted by the end of watching a baseball game here.
After the warm up, the game starts with little fanfare - no anthems, no first pitch, just a bow and go time. Cheers erupts, outs are made, bats crack. Actually, our defense was awesome. A foul caught going into a dugout, a diving catch from behind the back, double play... (I'm not making these up; they actually happened). When all was said and done, we walked out of there with a 1-0 victory. The crowd goes wild as the home team runs over for a bow. So much more madly exciting than Canada. And let me tell you how when we went back onto that bus to go home, all 40 of us dropped out faster than post-Thanksgiving dinner.
This is how work days should always be spent.

Hate Love, Love Sweets, Sweet Sweets

2008-03-13T00:59:00.000+09:00

To continue my theme of trying to make up for lost blog time, I'm going to write one that I should have written on February 15th.

So Valentine's Day in Japan. Now, ordinarily my feelings towards contemporary Valentine's Day itself range from indifference to stupefied contempt. For years, I was preaching that this was a holiday who's purpose was to screw men over by an overstimulation of the economy and our women's joy meters - The whole day a superfluous attempt to convince us that there need be one specific day on which to show someone that we care lest we be put into the doghouse. Here, things are different.

On Valentine's Day in Japan, the tables are turned: It is in fact women who buy things for men. Usually it is something small, most often being chocolate. Also, it doesn't have to be confined to that special someone; women will sometimes give something small to a boss, coworker, or friend, just for the hell of it. Well, it's to foster improved relations vis-a-vis other people, I suppose. She's not compelled to give something to everyone male in the office, however; usually just a close friend or two will do.

Whatever the reason, I mind not. For on my day, I cashed in bigtime. It's not to say that my desk looked like a Laura Secord, but I did get a few little chocolates here and there from teachers, students, and even one mystery (Scandal @ school - who are you, mystery-chocolate-giver?!). Now, this gives rise to a puzzling internal dilemma. On the one hand, the slightly obligatory but nonetheless personally volitional nature of the chocolate causes me to side with my standing mindset on the issue, namely that it's a commercialized trap. However, the joy-joy feelings imbued from getting said chocolate tends to push those feelings aside. So brand me a hypocrite if you will, but I was quite happy with - for the first time - having the tables turned and being the one to reap benefits from yet another manifestation of the decline of Western Civilization (I wonder if this is how women feel on Valentine's day...).

One thing to note: This isn't the end of it. Oh no. In fact, in March, there's a day called White Day in which men are expected to repay those who gave them gifts on Valentine's. Three-fold, in fact. And THIS day was completely created out of the blue, purely for the expressed purpose of generating revenue. Nevertheless, most ladies who were generous a month prior find themselves in a Valentine's Day stupor when they're surprised with even better chocolate than what they gave.

So for men here, I guess there really is no such thing as a free lunch.

Kanpai!

2008-03-04T20:56:00.000+09:00

Laments and apologies to all. I know that I have taken quite the hiatus amidst promises of updating regularly, and have received a number of complaints re the quality and quantity of the blog. Therefore, I'm coming back to it full steam with a few new posts delivered at rapid-fire pace. The next few will go in descending chronological order however, so raise too many eyebrows at seeing a post for Valentine's day in the middle of March. I'll start with a topic that's fresh in me mind as I experienced it just 12 hours ago.

Japanese cultural lesson for today: Enkai - 宴会

This roughly translates as a banquet, but it boils down to being a work party. You know how sometimes you and a few friends get together after for a drink or two to unwind? Well, an enkai is basically the same thing except that you more or less have to go. And the few friends is all the teachers in the faculty/grade/school. And a drink or two is several or more. That's enkai in a very small nutshell.

There are more serious and formal enkai that follow the important events at school, such as start/end of the school year ceremonies, graduation, end of the term, end of the year, and so on. Rule of thumb is that if there's a ceremony of sorts at school, or a long vacation is about to start, then there's going to be an enkai that night. These usually include the entire school, including the principal, vice-principals, all teachers, office and grounds staff, and sometimes even PTA representatives or members of the school board. Beyond that, there are any number of smaller enkai that can be held for any number of reasons by any number of people. If the third year teachers prep for a month for a demonstration class for the school board and it's now over, enkai. If the science teachers finish a very large and important unit that required them to work more than usual, enkai. All the first year teachers want to get together right after the new year to have a mini pep rally, enkai. So on and so forth. These can range in size, but anything smaller than maybe five or six might just be considered dinner. Also, attendance isn't mandatory at any of them. However most everyone goes. They're more often than not quite fun, and it's a good way to foster good relationships with your fellow teachers.

Enkai begins with sitting in your assigned seat, or drawing a table or seat number from a hat. The principal or next highest up will make a short speech to commemorate whatever it is we may be celebrating and then a toast follows, "Kanpai!" We are then fed... everything. Plate after plate after plate of the most interesting foods you'll ever see. Mostly fish. It looks like each plate was storyboarded by Da Vinci, cooked by Wolfgang Puck, and sculpted on the plate by Michelangelo. In this manner, maybe five or six (or more) plates will meet you over the course of the evening, though only perhaps three or four will be fully devoured (I'll explain why in a minute).

And after that first cheers, that's when the drinking starts... These enkai are nearly always all you can drink, in that we don't have to order - the bottles are just brought out as fast as we can drink them. Therefore there's no need to baby a drink for a long time, or worry about the next round costing an arm and a leg. I've got to explain something about Japanese drinking. The glass is never half empty or half full here because it's always full. Customs here is that when you're out not by yourself, you pour the other person's drink. So if I notice that my friend beside me's cup is getting empty, I have to jump and top it off lest I be seen as rude. If someone fills their own drink the whole table we all @ the table realize it and collectively sigh in realizing that we've failed another of life's little tests. So after every bite it seems, you take a notice of everyone's class, and if even a sip is missing (a pseudo-exaggeration), or even if it's someone across the table, you get up, walk around there and pour in the 5 millilitres that are missing.

Eating and drinking continue for a while until people decide to take a bottle in hand and go visit other teachers to shoot the breeze. During said shooting, everyone seems to stop eating amidst the delicacies surreptitiously placed in front of us as the night goes on. Topping and polishing off bottles at Olympic marathon speeds, things quickly move from being a quiet dinner to raucously loud and open conversations about nearly everything under the sun. This gets louder and bawdier until about two hours have passed when, on the stroke of the minute, everyone promptly gets up and departs. But oh no, the fun doesn't end here. More often than not, a second (or several distinct second) brew ha ha will informally convene with a smaller group of friends at a nearby establishment to basically keep the party going. Third parties are rare, but do happen amongst the saucier teachers.

That is the short and skinny of what an enkai is. It ends not here, though, for what blog update would be complete without demonstrating how this vainly relates to me own life. Especially since I attended an enkai last night and thus can offer first-hand application details.

After the bottles really start to be popped with alacrity, we move to the stage that I like to call "Partytime" but like to think of in my head as "Let's Practice English Time". It's around here that I discovered that - lo and behold - quite a number of my teachers can not only understand but can quite skillfully speak English. Someone will sit down beside me with a bottle in hand to top me off, and then bust out a, "So? You enjoy beer? So do I. What kind of things do you drink in Canada?". As my eyes retreat back into my head, my response will then foster a rather coherent and lengthy conversation about everything under the sun, invariably looking and Canada and/or Japan in some way. The interesting thing about "Partytime" is that teachers whom I never speak to, or who will rarely even acknowledge that I come to their school will all of a sudden find the (liquid) courage to not only approach me for a conversation, but will also do so in English. Going beyond that now, their English is frequently much more better than my feeble Japanese. In theory, I could pass a whole day @ school with hearing 50/50 Japanese/English if everyone all of a sudden developed a "We Love English" attitude.

The only downtime to "Partytime" is that being the ALT seems to act as a bullseye for teachers with bottle in hand. You're targeted and prompty approached for a topoff, which you CAN refuse in theory, but seldom do in practice as to be polite. And a topoff itself isn't so much a detriment to one's state of being, but several rapid topoffs, by several people, over several minutes, over the course of the party will rapidly accumulate to several pints being consumed with realtive easy. And this is before even mentionning sake or several other Japanese alcohols (If you're discovered to be able to drink Japanese alcohol, you may as well just take an instant-hangover pill and go home right then and there).

"Partytime" also rocks because it affords a glimpse into a seldom-viewed world. You'll often see some certain coworkers @ their desks Mon-Fri 9-5 (More like 8-7) doing nothing but work, often not saying more than a few words, and being in all ways unassuming. And by the end of an enkai, those same busybees are talking ears off and becoming the life of the party. And odder still is seeing them back to their quiet, hardworking ways the very next morning as though nothing happened. It's refreshing to know that there is life beyond the office. Which brings me to the next point: The next day at work, we all act as though nothing happened. No matter how crazy or awesome or scary things get, no matter what is said or done, who's insulted or startled or amazed, it's out of sight and mind by 8 AM. Truly, what happens at enkai stays at enkai.

So that's a work party in a nutshell. We hope that you've enjoyed this cultural lesson. We do hope that you'll give this a try yourself as on any given night in Japan, somewhere, someone is having an enkai. Well, there are probably any number of thousands each night across the country, so find one today and crush a cup of sake!

Welcome 2008, あけおめ

2008-01-17T00:01:00.000+09:00

What do bad Japanese, The Matrix, and Michael Jackson have in common? My trip to Tokyo for New Year's.

I had NO definitive clue as to what I'd be doing for the winter break for months – there had been plans made, canceled, remade all across the board, but none seemed solid enough to convince me. Talking with my friend Nicole from high school, who was in country teaching at an English conversation company, I learned that she had no plans either. Coupled with the fact that she'd been here almost four months and I hadn't seen her yet, I thought it a good move to go and catch up, and at the same time take in some of Japan's largest city, of which I'd barely caught a glimpse of five months prior: Tokyo.

But the approach would not be easy. Getting there would be akin to the journey from Canada to Japan in that it'd be about a 10 hour trek. Cheapest way we could think of to get from here to there would be an overnight bus that would depart in the evening and arrive in the city very early the following morning. In truth, it sounded longer than it actually was. Good thing about the bus was that all the windows were curtained; even the front portion of the bus where the driver sat was cordoned off so it was incredibly dark in the cabin. The seats reclined a fair bit, and we were all given blankets. A few more degrees of incline and I almost would have sworn I was in bed. The only con was we stopped every few hours for pit stops. This was great for those with no bladder, but for the vast majority of the bus, being roused from deep REM sleep by lights and a large booming voice was akin to a continual near-death experience.

Arrival in Tokyo hit just shy of 6 AM. I'm still surprised by the number of people up and about in any given city before sunrise. It's no wonder that vampirism is on the rise these days. Getting in touch with Nicole was easy as she was still awake and in town from the night before (Tokyo partying for ya), so we hastily returned to her place (as fast as one can go on a 45 minute commute) for some sleep and food, both of which we desperately needed.

Bright-eyed and bushy tailed, my guide and I embarked to take on Tokyo by storm. Day one was probably the longest and the busiest, in that we saw the most things. We started in Shibuya, which is this sort of trendy party/shopping district – fun for both day and night. We observed the famed crossing from a lofty height in Starbucks – such crossing is apparently one of the busiest in the world. Too bad we hit it up on a random Sunday at 9 AM. Still cool nonetheless.

We then moseyed our way on over to Harajuku where sure enough there were people out in all sorts of anime/goth/just plain insane costumes to delight the tourists and get pictures taken. Truth be told, I've never fully understood it meself, but it didn't stop me from getting a few pictures taken with them. Navigating the endless and narrow streets gave witness to some of the most interesting and bizarre fashions I ever have seen. How on Earth some people walk buy and think, "That'd look good!" simply defies me. That being said, the businesses sure seemed to be thriving.

Later that evening, after passing the maddeningly expensive boutiques of Estee Lauder, Yves St. Laurent, and others, we found my friends @ the Gap, but declined an offer for dinner as we’d just eaten. Being far too tired to paint the town red that night, we visited the apartment of a few friend's of Nicole's and vegged to Japanese TV.

The next day following a wonderful sleep in, Nicole took me to Asakusa, which was host to Sensoji Temple. Not too sure what the story was behind this one other than it was very big and very crowded. A plus was that I was able to get a few more little Christmas presents for some people back home (Those keeping up with continuity will note that this is all taking place several days after Christmas).

The best part of this though was Nicole's foray into Japanese. I can't remember how it came up, but I had told her that during my solo trip to Himeji that I was forced to teach myself how to ask someone to take a picture of me in Japanese (Which I'm quite proud to say I thought of correctly all by myself). She wanted to know what it was so I taught her, sufficient that she had it memorized. Not content to let it just slip away, I told her that we must test it out to make sure that she had it committed to memory. Thus, to the first "Japanese" people that we saw approach us – a young couple – she walked up and said, "Sumimasen. Shashin o tottemo ii desu ka?" (Excuse me, can you please take a picture?), done with hardly a mistake. The young man smiled and replied – In flawless English – "Sure, no problem." Not only did he speak English, but it sounded native, with no accent or hesitation @ all. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear that he was either a tourist visiting Japan as well, or someone who had lived abroad for MANY years. Needless to say, it was quite amusing that Nicole had to ask the one person who'd understand her in either language.

Oh, also, another thing to mention. Many people ask me how expensive it really is in Japan, and I tell them that on the average things are either the same or only slightly more expensive. On the average. On the other hand, it is possible to find things for much less expensive, as evidenced by our shopping around Sensoji. We found several shoe stores that were offering dozens of styles for about $20 CAD. And I'm not talking knock-off sneakers or anything. I mean full dress shoes and heels and just about any kind of shoes that you'd want. Needless to say, $50 and 3 pairs of shoes later, I was a happy boy. So don't let the image of omni-expensive Japan fool you.

Shopping and donuts later, we returned home to Yokohama to prep for the night – New Year’s Eve. After prettying ourselves up, we grabbed a few drinks (Amen to being able to drink in public and on the trains), and headed back into Tokyo. We met up with a large group of Nicole and Audrey's (another friend from high school who was living with Nicole. They came over from Canada together) friends in Shibuya, along with countless other thousands of Japanese and foreigners alike. I swear, it felt more like Toronto to me what with all the different ethnicities in the same place. Aside from the signs in Japanese and the public drinking, I would have thought I was back home for a minute.

The countdown occurred on a randomly passing bus. We screamed. We hugged. We kissed. Such was the entrance into 2008. Next, after many deliberations and varied delays, we made it to a club around 1 to dance the year away. We somehow bartered the doorwoman to let us in for only $15 when the cover that night was $40, and I somehow kept drinking for free by recycling the one drink ticket that I had. Won't bore you with the details, but it was a fun, albeit tiring night. Audrey, her boyfriend, and I left after 4; while Nicole and a bunch of Australians hung around until 7 or 8 (The clubs don't really close here. You can dance all night if you want). Hats off to the subways being open all day that night. I think it was close to 6 when I finally passed out, a pile of exhaustion and exuberance.

Maybe... 2 the next day, I struck out alone to view a few more places. Among them, Akihabara. This is the famed district in Tokyo where you can get any electronic known to man. Now, I was originally under the impression that one would be able to find things five years ahead of Canadian standards for five times less the price. The reality of the situation is that all and all, you're going to pay about the same, however the quality is better. Thus, what you'd spend for a top of the line camera from Futureshop is what you'd spend here, but the one here is probably that much better than the Futureshop one. If you were to get the EXACT same camera, then you'd find it a cheaper price here as it'd probably be "older". To that end, I didn't see anything that I NEEDED, but did pick up a game or two for my DS and almost got a cordless keyboard for me laptop. All and all, what I DID want or need I could probably get back in Tottori.

On the train ride back, it stopped in Shimbashi, which I'd studied about in textbooks, and I thought, "I'm not rushing anywhere. I have the time. Why not?" So I get out and walk around. I think that a few hundred years ago it was a pleasure quarter of sorts. Now, it's a major business center. Think Bay Street. That being said, on New Year's Day, at 8 PM. It was empty. And I mean EMPTY. There was maybe a five or ten minute stretch where I saw no one @ all – no cars, no pedestrians, no one. And this is in one of the biggest cities in the world. I thought that I'd walked into a B-movie and zombies were going to appear out of the alleyways. As I'm walking along, I come to an intersection and notice Tokyo Tower somewhat distant to my left. The "Why not" thought crossed my mind, and I decided to walk towards it. For the next 45 minutes or so. Lovely view, by the way. I highly recommend going @ night – can't see as much detail, but it's beautiful.

Next day! We hit up Kamakura, city that held the effective executive power of the country for a few hundred years. This mission in and of itself was daunting; took up almost two and a half hours from the apartment to getting off the last train. Transport in Japan? Efficiency, yes. Timely, no. At one point during the trek, the train made a funny movement that caused Audrey to almost fall. But this almost fall was in bullet-time. It was like watching it happen in slow motion. Her vain arm movements, the expression on her face, the speed at which she was moving... It was as if someone has set the movie to slo-mo just to scrutinize every moment in agonizing detail. Amazingly, she didn't even fall in her seven second voyage towards the floor.

We only had time for a few places as I had to be back to catch my train, so we saw the Daibutsu (Literally, Big Buddha) and another temple whose name escapes me. Crowded, crowded, crowded as everyone was at the temples to pray for the new year. We couldn't join as the wait was something like two hours, so instead we just ate from various vendors around the temple and became fat from so many Japanese foods.

Thus, at this point, I had to bid farewell to me friends and hightail it back to Tokyo to make my bus, which! I did with perhaps one minute to spare. Though when I got there, I found out that my time was just the boarding time, and that the bus wouldn’t leave for anther 15 minutes. Ugh... Funny thing happened when I got on. A man in front of me turned back and said, "Same bus" a few times, which I took to mean that it was the same bus that we'd come to Tokyo on (which I knew it wasn't). He eventually explained that it we had rode on the same bus to Tokyo together four days prior. He said that he remembered me because I reminded him of Michael Jackson. *Insert eye roll here. Needless to say, that brought a smile to me face. So long as he was referring to Jackson 5 Michael.

Weirdest thing about the trip was that towards the end, I was actually looking forward to coming back to Tottori. Big city living and all that as it was, I thought it all a little too... busy? Hectic? Fast-paced? I'm not sure how to coin it. But whatever it was, it had me longing for the relaxing air of the country. Or it could just be that in Tokyo, I'm just another common foreigner, while in my city, I'm Michael Jackson.

Beauty in Every Fallen Leaf

2007-12-20T00:53:00.000+09:00

This one may take top prize as the latest entry thus far: three weeks. I don't know where to begin to describe the sheer volume of time-consuming activities that render our lives here busy beyond belief - and thus I won't endeavor to. I'll just say that "I've been a little engaged," and leave it at that.

So! Last (3) weekend(s ago), decided to crack one of the biggest eggs that Japan has to offer: The 1000+ year old city that is Kyoto - seat of emperors and cultural hub of the whole shebang. It's probably the one city that I've wanted to visit for as long as I've known about Japan. It's always held a piquing interest to know of the history that walks the very streets; that many a person since very long before I was born walked the same ones - It's fascinating.

First stop was Kinkakuji. This temple dates back some 800 years or so, however the actual building that we see is less than 100 years old itself. Nonetheless, it doesn't take away from the marvel of what it once was. And the nice thing about the compound is the surroundings of nature. The whole area is this sea of red and gold and green that frankly makes Canadian fall seem like just another season.

The afternoon continued on with a destinationless wandering around the backstrees and alleyways of the city. One really gets that "lost in time" feel when they're going down streets that have changes very little over the course of centuries.

The following noteworthy stop was Kiyomizu-dera, a Buddhist temple with over 1,000 years of history, and whose buildings date back almost 400 years. Truth be told, didn't take advantage AS MUCH of the cultural aspects of the temple, but, as it seems everyone else there was about, taking in the views from the temple was what it seemed to be about. Looking out over the forests and parks to see Kyoto in the background surrounded by mountains with the sunset approaching... No words of mine nor pictures that I could have taken could do it justice. It is such a sight that there is no ifs, ands, or buts about me returning to do it all over again. Simply incredible. When the ancient Japanese were designing a city, they certainly had their game faces on.

All and all, the trip was short, but sweet - Lasting only that day. It can be said with certainty that I will be heading back there will all due speed, hopefully in the spring when the cherry blossoms come in. This city did not fall short in any capacity and as captivated me to seek more. Although it goes without saying that if one ever visits Japan that they must visit this city, I can now put my official endorsement behind it with all urgings that descriptions are understatements and it must be seen to be known.

"Do you agree with the idea that housework is for women?": A Student's Perspective

2007-12-18T22:07:00.000+09:00

In my second year writing class, the students are doing a unit on housework with overtones of gender roles. They had a short assignment in which they had to evaluate the question, "Do you agree with the idea that housework is for women?", and respond with their own opinion. The following is one student's response that caused me to laugh for quite the while because I was picturing his situation in my mind. The spelling has been corrected for sake of legibility, but the grammar and word order are exactly as they appear on his paper.

I disagree with the idea. Because now, many Japanese women is working. My father very tired when finish father's works. But, my mother too. My mother and my father many mouth battle. But, they start the home work as soon as finish mouth battle. For example, my mother is wash the dish and clears the table. My father is smoking and eat a ice cream. My mother say "Hey you! You wash the your sox for yourself!" My father say "Yes, yes."

Mochi, Mochi, Mochi, I made you out of rice...

2007-12-17T01:17:00.000+09:00

I've recently discovered a new form of therapy designed to relieve stress and keep you in shape all at the same time. It runs along the same lines as punching bags and stress balls: Make mochi.

One of my JTE (Japanese Teacher of English) from one school invited me to make mochi with her and her family (Including her twin brother, who happens to be a JTE at my other school) last Saturday.

For those of you not familiar with what mochi is: It's a rice cake made from really sticky rice. You pound it into a paste, as indicated here, then break it into smaller pieces and mold it. You can get it anytime, but it's usually a New Year's food. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mochi

You cook rice in a thicker-and-stickier-than-usual manner to get the right consistency, then you toss it all into an usu (type of big mortar) and mash it all together with kine (pestle - think high school science, but about 20x as big. And with handles. Once it's sufficiently mashed, that's when the therapy/fitness aspect kicks in. You have two people working on it: one to bash and the other to fix. The one bashing uses the kine in overhand strikes to beat the rice into paste; the one fixing keeps their hand wet with water and smacks the rice. This is done both to keep the rice from drying out, and also to indicate where to hit next. When the basher is breaking through all the way to the bottom, the fixer has to grab and end and fold it over to ensure that there's always a thick layer of rice to pound. Crazy thing is that this is done in between the strikes, so the fixer has about a half second in which to either smack the rice or grab and end and fold it over. Rhythm is key because it is very easy for the basher to bash fixer's hand, which no one wants to see happen.

Once the rice is no longer rice and instead becomes sort of a white, homogeneous paste, it is placed on a wooden board with flour and separated into smaller pieces. These are then worked out by hand into disc-shaped portions that are left to cool. Once that's done, eat! It's a traditional New Year's food here
(Mid-sentence aside: New Year's here is where it's at. Christmas isn't really celebrated other than to give gifts, that being because more than 90% of the country is Shinto/Buddhist. But! New Year's is the spiritual time to let go of the current year and hope for good luck in the coming year. Very family-intensive. I make it that Japan's New Year is analogous to the West's Christmas in terms of family-time and sentimental meaning.)
and so it's often bought or given out as gifts. It's also used in the home as offerings at shrines, and and charms meant to bring good fortune.

That all being said, it's quite relaxing to picture someone's face in the rice while you're beating it to high heaven. Not only does it turn it into paste faster, but it feels oh so good. I think that gyms should start stocking striking apparatuses - they work wonders for both the body and mind.

One bale of rice is more than enough to tire one out. So you can imagine my resignation when I learned that we were making six. Our rapid swings and devastating blows expended on the first bale soon gave way to haphazard hacks and snail-paced rhythms towards the end, and the time that we needed for break in between increased arithmetically.

After many a tired and grueling hour later, we all enjoyed lunch together, at which it seemed that my glass of beer could never be filled fast enough after the smallest sip. My JTE and his infant daughter had the right idea with a nap, and it goes without saying that as soon as I got home, I followed suit.

I'll be spending the next 11 months, 30 days training for next year's mochi-making day. I'll need every day, believe you me.

Delicious Multiculturalism Goes International (Or, They call me Mr. Tibbs!... er, Mr. Levy)

2007-12-13T22:57:00.000+09:00

As the law of averages will oft tell us in life, everything tends to have a way to even out. We hear it all the time: "Can't have the good without the bad", "Can't enjoy victory without knowing defeat", etc. Yesterday, I had one of those high days - the ones you get out of bed for and make work worth going to (At least, so much as one would want to go to work as opposed to spending all day in bed).

Day begins with the discovery that my afternoon classes are cancelled. For whatever reason, my one school has cancelled afternoon classes from now until the end of the semester. So the kids can go home at lunch. This nets me with just one class. Huzzah. Spend the first period making eggnog with one or two of my teachers for the first time. I never knew how easy it was to make. I highly recommend for those who have ready access to milk and eggs. After the time warp that accelerated me past my class, enjoyed lunch, and then prepped for my afternoon.

Today, we made Nanaimo Bars.

I'll have to explain why. So, maybe a month ago, the librarian approached me and asked of I could prepare a Canadian dessert for some students in December. I can't remember what the reason was - perhaps it was just an internationalization thing wherein I do something Canadian and talk with the kdis about it. I replied that I would and at once set to think of a sweet that screams "Canada". All I can say is amen to Wikipedia, because within five minutes of searching, I discovered the joy that is Nanaimo Bar. I've been slowly learning how to make it over the last month - even testing it out on friends during Thanksgiving Dinner. And yesterday was show time.

So for a week or so, there were ads around school saying, "Let's cook with Raymond-sensei!" I was expecting perhaps a half dozen students to show up; imagine my surprise when a good 20+ kids were in the room waiting for me, in addition to about six or so teachers. In a short and skinny, they made it all while I - the quote-unquote expert - supervised. They did a great job, and all turned out well. Afterwords, we ate and drank tea. The aforementioned eggnog was a surprise for them, as I didn't tell them that I'd be making it. All and all, it was a fun experience for me, but the best came at the very end.

Most of the students reluctantly tried the eggnog, reluctantly especially so after I told them that it was made from eggs. Some flat out refused. I got a few smiles from it and a few interesting expressions, but all and all they just seemed to quietly enjoy it. When we were all done and cleaned up, and the students had left, the teachers and I were talking when another student entered the room. She was a quiet girl who also attended my Jack O'Lantern demonstration a few months back. She apologized that she was unable to attend due to some unavoidable circumstance. The teachers gave her a piece of Nanaimo, and I also offered her a cup of eggnog to try. She took one sip, then looked up with widened eyes and exclaimed in a quiet voice, "Oishi!" (Delicious), after which she quickly finished the rest in a few quick gulps. Most of the other students just took it down without too much expression, so perhaps her genuine reaction stood out in my mind. I don't know why I thought that that was meaningful, but it really made my day when she thanked me for the delicious "Canadian" drink.
They've asked me to do this sort of thing again in the spring, but this time make a Canadian food typically found at lunch/dinner. Any ideas?

Fancy Seeing You Here

2007-11-30T02:40:00.000+09:00

Another wonderful Japanese long weekend. Perhaps I should just stay at home and catch up on my sleep, do a little cleaning, maybe leisurely see some friends and catch up.
...
No, that'd be too easy. Instead, let's go traveling. After all, it's a long weekend.

Fun thing about traveling here is you just kind of think to yourself, "Hmm. Where's a city I have visited yet? Okayama? Well then! Let's go!", and off and away you go. I get the feeling that that’s how my friends decided this weekend: Throwing darts @ the map, and then playing Janken to decide the winner (I could write an entire blog about Janken [And in fact, I think I may in the future], but for now http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Janken). Just like that, Okayama beats out Hiroshima, and we're off!

Strangest thing I found about being in Okayama was how it reminded me so of Toronto. The size of the streets, the buildings, and, of course, the streetcars. Okayama is one of only a handful of cities in Japan to still feature streetcars. And so seeing it made of think of it as Japan's TTC. It was quite surreal to walk the streets, but they carried with them that nostalgic and melancholic feeling all at once.

First thing: The park.　The park was incredibly lovely, and was juxtaposed to other Japanese parks in that it had large expanses of grass, which apparently here is unheard of. It any event, it reminded me greatly of home. Funny thing happened in said park. As we're meandering around on a hill, we happened to spot two other foreigners way across the field. You may think, "Oh, always on the lookout", or something, but you have to realize that being here amongst millions of black haired people causes blond to stick out like a pink elephant – One's eyes are just drawn to it, I suppose. Anyway, we innocuously thought nothing of it and continued on. Minutes later, we were walking passed them when we realized that we knew that blond! @ least, one of them. It was a friend of ours from Tottori, but one who lives on the other side of the prefecture and we rarely get the chance to see. She was showing her Australian friend from Shimane around before the latter returned to the Land Down Under in several weeks' time. A whiles of catching up and we moved off to check out the castle.

It was no sooner that we were not five meters from exiting the park, when I caught the immediate gaze of yet another foreigner walking right passed me. We stared at each other for what seemed an eternity before we pounced upon one another like a pair of oppositely-charged magnets. For you see, this particular girl – a Canadian I might add – was a friend of mine that I had met on the airplane sitting across the aisle. We hung out all during Tokyo orientation and that was the last time I saw her. We talked over MSN, but since she lives north of Tokyo, and this several hundred kilometers from me, I knew it would be the longest while before I saw her again. And so you can imagine my surprise @ running into her at a random park leagues from both our houses as she was down for the weekend visiting her friend.

Nothing particularly noteworthy thereafter – walked around the shopping area, ate bbq-esque burgers, and sat @ Mister Donut for several hours. The girls went the internet café to sleep (I’ll explain in a minute), and I met up with my friend and her best friend for drinks at a Canadian bar. Thereafter, retired at aforementioned internet café. Now, this is not such a phenomenon – we have them back home too. But! The scope of which they're going on here is something else. So... you can rent what are basically private rooms at which you can watch more movies than do exist or read more manga than are contained books in a university library. A few places – this one in particular – allowed for one to rent a room overnight.

So for ￥2000, we got a "room", about the size of a sofa plus leg space, a TV with maybe 10 channels, a PS2, a DVD player, a computer, and unlimited internet. And from this you could choose to watch literally thousands of movies all for free and immediately onto the comp. Considering they also throw in breakfast in the morning, a blanket for you to use, and a towel should you wish to use the shower (They have shower facilities), it all isn't bad for $20 CAD when all one wants to do is rest their head for a few hours.

Next morn, we did the Okayama Prefecftural Museum of Art, which was featuring work done by local artists in the area. I tell ya, the human mind still amazes me that people can come up with some of the things that they do. Simply stunning they were.

And as fast as it began (both the trip and the blog), it was just about over. Nevertheless, I do intend to hit it up again in force come spring when the parks are in full bloom.

(Short entry this time. Ray's 疲れた [tired])

Sit Here, and The Universe as you know it ends

2007-11-19T01:09:00.000+09:00

In order to write this blog, you should be aware of the duress it took to convince my hand to release the exothermically pleasing cup of coffee that is providing the same effect as a micro-kotatsu (It would take me far too long to explain kotatsu. Please visit the following for more detail: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kotatsu). My extremities have been taking a beating lo these few weeks, and more is yet to come. But for now, I suppose that they can endure the cold in the name of relating yet another Japanese life-experience to the interested, the polite, and the just plain bored.
Musing on my ride in this morning, I've decided to compose a quick blurb on my train's social conventions. Now, I can't speak as to whether or not this happens on the commuter trains back home, but I know that it doesn't happen on the subway or the bus.

So every morning, the lot of us pile on the same 7:31 train on track 4. I use the lot of us in the sense that it's the same people: The same students heading to the same school, and the same adults heading to the same jobs. The cool thing about it is the regimentation of it all. There are three cars to the train, and everyone always rides in the same car. The people who took car three yesterday are taking car three today as will take car three tomorrow. And more to it, they sit/stand in the same spot day after day. I can close my eyes right now and describe just who's sitting in what box of four at any point in my car. This applies to sitting more so than standing because in the mad rush to make the door in the last minute or two, people will just cram on. That being said, in one arrangement or another, the people who were standing yesterday are standing today as will be standing tomorrow. The regularity of it is such that if someone is missing, or is not sitting where they should be, you can actually notice it. This is a thing to say considering that I've only been riding this train three months and do not spend each morning actively memorizing the order.

It ends not here. When we arrive at the stations, you know just which people are getting off, and just which ones will be getting on. More to it, the people waiting at the stations know just where to stand so that as the train pulls up the door will be right in front of them. You don't just arrive at the station and wait for the train - you wait at your spot. And as getting on and off goes, occasionally seats will open up here and there, but unless you sit there matter of course, don't even think about it. Vacant places will remain so until arrival at the appropriate station, at which time the appropriate body will occupy it.

The whole commute is a thing of beauty, actually. One cannot help but marvel at the sublime simplicity and order of it all. What's odder still is that this does not repeat in the evening - most likely on account of everyone coming home at different times. You'll notice the same people getting on at certain stops, but we all sit very much where we please.

All said and told, today something out of the ordinary happened. In all sense and purpose, it was nothing - An occasional passenger, someone I do not usually see, happened to sit in one of the box seats that opened up. Now, while there is certainly nothing wrong in the least with sitting in a paid-for seat, this seemingly innocuous act set off a chain reaction that was detectable only by those trained to see it. By sitting in the seat, a group of boys who usually sit there was forced to occupy another seat/stand up. This forced two other girls who normally occupy the seat taken by the boys to sit next to me. This in turn caused a group of boys who usually take the seats beside me to stand, and the added standing contributed to further standing congestion that made the train – to me, at least – noticeably seem fuller than any other given day. It was just one of those moments when you kind of feel a spark hit you as though something is not right in The Universe; like a splinter in your mind, driving you mad. I found it remarkable because it just goes to show that I've been here thus long that something as the seating of a train would cause me to go, "???"

This blog should be testament to the morning train commute. Such that I would devote an entire entry and several minutes of my life towards a relatively minor and circumscript affair is testament to how profound such a minor perturbation can leave such a resonance later on in the day.

That, or my mind was just so idle that it created a mountain out of a molehill.

NOTE: The actual positioning varies +/- 1 meter, 19 times out of 20.

Super Fun Happy Pumpkin Day

2007-11-14T03:41:00.000+09:00

***YES, I know how late this is. YES, I've been putting it off. YES, I've been lazy. YES I've been busy. Have we established that I'm a putz now? Yes? We can move on? Great! Please enjoy.***Right-o. Japanese Halloween. Guess this day was coming. It's more or less the same as Halloween anywhere else.

Except no one - adult or child alike - dresses up in costume. And there's no trick-or-treating. And no one decorated their house. And no one gives out candy. And no one carved Jack O'Lanterns (Because there are no orange pumpkins in Japan). And no one has Halloween parties (sorta). But yes sir, in all other ways, it's just like being back home.

One thing that is lacking here is the costumes during the day. No one goes to work or more importantly school dressed up. I can recall - oh, so long ago it seems - going to high school and the flock of teachers would be dressed up as I don't know what. But here, it's all about the professionalism. I even had the bright idea for a costume as dressing up in the kids' uniform; I think they'd have gotten a kick out of it. But sadly, the dream is gone. And as for the kids? Inconceivable. They effectively sleep in their uniforms. If they're going to school at all, even if it's to get something from their desk on a Sunday afternoon (School's are open 7 days a week here for activities on the weekend), they have to be in uniform. So it's just not in the cards for them to be dressed down for something as trivial as Halloween.

But this is not to say that the Halloween spirit was absent from school that day. After the first class, a few kids came to my desk chiming, "Trick-or-treat!"

Sidebar: On Monday, I did a presentation about Halloween to a few classes detailing the highlights of our wonderfully nonsense holiday. Throughout the entire thing, I had perhaps two of thirty sets of eyes upon me while the rest were doing just about everything they could not to listen. By the end, I'd thought that perhaps one or two kids heard my explanation of Trick-or-treat. How wrong I was.
/Sidebar

I had bought some candy the night before because I'd expected a few kids to know about Trick-or-treating, but imagine my surprise when dozens of kids made their way to my desk throughout the day with their hands outstretched and a slightly-incorrect-but-nonetheless-adorable version of "Trick-or-treat". That was but one side of the coin. The cool part of "Trick-or-treat" @ school was the teachers who participated too. Here and there, one would ask what I was doing, and I'd poorly explain in Japanese. When finished, I'd tell them to say it, and reward them with a piece of candy accompanied by this little twinkle of five year-old gleamed in the corner of their eye.

The day tears on. For all my classes I did a powerpoint on Halloween. For the most part, they seemed only mildly interested in our weird traditions, and only slightly more so when I showed them pictures of costumes. The highlight came when a picture of a guy dressed as a bottle of lotion and an innocently indicative arrow came on the screen. Most of my classes didn't give it a second thought, but one student raised his hand and asked me about it. I played it off as, "Oh, I don't know. People sometimes wear weird costomes," and it was then that my teacher chimed in with an oh-so naive, "Oh, it appears that it says hand lotion on his costume. He must be a bottle of lotion." It was all the willpower I possessed to keep myself for bursting at the seams. I then devoted the only mental channeling that I had spare - which was very little save I explode with chuckles - to pray to God not to have either her or the student follow up. Someone was awake @ the switch that day, because they both dropped it, and I was but too happy to quickly continue on.

After school that day, we had English club and today we were making Jack O'Lanterns. This is a huge deal because there are no pumpkins in Japan. Well, that's not entirely correct. It would be more apt to say that there are none of the huge orange pumpkins that we see in abundance that time of year back home in Japan. The pumpkins here for the most part are green or beige, and fit in the palm of your hand. Thus, it was with a stroke of luck that I just happened to be placed at an agricultural school, where one teacher just happened to be growing huge pumpkins for a competition, which also just happened to be judged the day before. Therefore, he had no futher use for the two 20+ pound pumpkins that he grew, and they were ours to destroy.

The thing I liked about it all was that there was as many teachers as there were students. Because A) Halloween isn't celebrated here as it is in the West, and B) There aren't any Jack O'Lantern-esque pumpkins to be found, most people in Japan have never carved a pumpkin before. So for these 30, 40 year-old teachers, this was a first for them. I almost felt like a proud pappa teaching his son to fish and then watching him reel in a bass on the first cast. 'Cause an hour later and we had two of the biggest Jack O'Lanterns that I've ever done, and they did it all themselves. I was incredibly proud and happy for them 'cause everyone was having a great time - teacher and student alike. Even the principal popped in to take a few pics of himself with the smiling orange faces.

So even though I didn't get to dress up as I usually do by day and party the night away later on, I would definately mark this Halloween up there as one to remember.

Canada, by a Canadian, for Japanese, written about by a Canadian

2007-11-05T02:22:00.000+09:00

Tumbling down the daily rabbit hole that is my high school day in Japan, I chanced to find myself in the library, and there stumbled upon a book written about Canadian life for those who know either little Japanese or little English. The following is a few passages that I found quite interesting. I'm wondering what kind of mindset we're now seen in when a Japanese is asked about Canadians. I am well aware that they are taken out of context and are not meant to patronize. I simply found it amusing some of the aspects of our culture that were chosen to be highlighted.

Coffee Craze
"For many people, the coffee shop is the first stop of the day. We can't seem to function without that first cup of coffee. It is a staple in both our business and social lives."

Dating
"Most Canadians begin dating in junior high school. This relationship usually consists of holding hands, thinking you are in love and... breaking up after three weeks. This continues into high school, the only difference being at 16, most people get their driver's license. It's a parents' nightmare, especially dads. Now the boys are picking up the girls usually in a beat-up car with a stereo that costs more than the car."

"Nowadays Canadians are waiting until later to tie the know. After all, we are only young once. Our twenties are the best time to have fun!"

Dressy or Casual?
"We love being comfortable even at the cost of looking like a slob."

"... when given the option, a lot of us would most likely choose jeans and a T-shirt over dress pants and a shirt. Therefore, when traveling to Canada, designer goods and high heel shoes are best left at home."

Exercise
"... If you get a chance, you may want to check out a gym. You can work off a little stress and laugh while learning about people we have come to call "muscle heads." They are the guys who flex in the mirror. This is done for their own benefit although they may feel that they are benefiting the entire gym."

Family Holidays/Turkey Dinner
"No matter what the holiday is, you can expect to see a turkey on the table and turkey always means leftovers. It's delicious, but in the end of the following week when we are still eating turkey sandwiches, turkey soup and mom's turkey hash, we're happy that the next family holiday isn't for another two months."

The Great Outdoors
"Many people survive the workweek knowing that they are going to their cottage on the weekend to relax."

(About hunting and fishing) "Usually these activities are enjoyed by Canadian men. It's a guy thing! It gives them a chance to feel at one with nature and more importantly, a chance to brag to their friends if they should happen to catch something."

Japan in the Eyes of Canadians
"We imagine everyone rides bicycles, eats rice, and knows Karate."

"In general, we believe that Japanese people are very smart. They provide some of the world's best cars and technology."

"For me (the author) ... The biggest mystery is sleeping on the train. All Japanese people fall asleep on the train and wake up immediately at their stop. Not before and not after. This never works for me."

Hockey
"Nothing gets Canadians more riled up than a good game of hockey."

Party On!!!
"Canadians love to party."

"Basically any situation is a good situation for a party."

"If you're looking for a party, it won't be hard to find and don't worry if you drink too much and make a fool of yourself. Your friends may make fun of you all week until next weekend when they make an even bigger fool of themselves. This behavior is quite common in Canada."

Public Drinking
"For a country that enjoys drinking, the rules as to where you can buy liquor and where you can drink it are quite strict."

Smoking
"One could almost admire the determination of a Canadian smoker who braves the -20 degree weather in the dead of winter just to have that cigarette."

Sense of Humor
"Most Canadians are sarcastic by nature."

Sensitive to Being Called Americans
"We don't like it when we are mistaken for our southern neighbors, whose reputation is markedly different from ours."

"Achieving success at the cost of Americans, especially in the world of sports, helps us maintain our national pride."

Vegetarianism
"There is also a group of people who have no better reason other than "everyone else is doing it" or "maybe I will lose some weight." They usually stick to the diet until the first summer barbecue."

What You See is What You Get
"Japanese may spend extra time trying to make a good impression, but keep in mind Canadian manners are quite different. In Canada, what you see is what you get."

Which Way to the Beach?
(About Polar Bear Swims) "Wading in is torture. You will be okay once you survive the initial shock."

Winter Blahs!
"Apparently university classes are more important than your life and you should brave the storm."

"The sight of snow makes us sick and we being asking, 'What the hell am I doing here?' "

You Put Your Down Down and Thrust Your Pelvis! Uh!

2007-10-30T00:17:00.000+09:00

week·end (wēk'ěnd') [week-end, -end]
–noun
1. the end of a week, esp. the period of time between Friday evening and Monday morning.
2. any two-day period taken or given regularly as a weekly rest period from one's work.

Rest? Pfft. Not for the weary...

I'll introduce this update in a style that one of my friends here enjoys: So, what does Hard Gay (wikipedia it if you don't know:http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hard_Gay), narrowly making/missing trains, and logs set ablaze have in common? This weekend.

So the weekly exodus of Tottori people took us far from home, over the rainbow to the other side of OZ a.k.a. the Greater Yonago Area. Specifically, it's a little town called Kishimoto that is quaint and quiet and out of the way. That is, until the foreigners descended upon it. We were in town for the birthday party of our Trini girl Simone, who had graciously opened the doors to her home to allow us to trash it. I mean party and sleep there. Such parties are great times for us Tottorians because they bring us all together from far and wide to one place to catch up and shoot the breeze.

Just getting started was quite the missions, as I arrived at the station to leave with perhaps three minutes to spare. I was to travel with Michelle, Stephanie, and Renate; however they were making food for the party/train ride, and as I had to go to the bank first and would therefore require more time, I decided to leave a few minutes before them. Just as I walked in the entrance of the station, Meredith breathlessly came running up and all but shoved me along to the ticket counter, up the escalator and onto the train. We made it on with perhaps 30 seconds to spare, and I desperately tried to call the girls to apprise them of the situation. I succeeded in reaching Michelle, who informed me that they were just buying the tickets then. No sooner did the words leave her mouth did the doors to the train close and we were on our way. It was fortunate for the girls that there was another train in about twenty minutes, and, though their journey was a bit more eventful than mine (missed a stop), we did through one way or another all arrive at the party by day's end.

The icing on the cake of this party was the shadow of Halloween cast upon the weekend. Believe you me; you don't want to ask a group of JETs to use their imaginations, especially when it comes to costumes. I’ll... let the pictures speak for themselves.

In any event, it was quite the evening of Panty Dropper (A Jesus Juice-esque mélange of random liquors, juices, and fruits), winding in the dancehall (formerly the living room), and one outlandish costume after another. But oh, it ends not here. Afterwards, we're heading to the bar in Yonago! Suffice it to say, drinks were had, dances were made, fun was done. All and all, a good night.

The next morning we decided as consensus to stop it at Mitoku on the way home to attend the Fire Festival. For those not familiar with Mitoku, it is the mountain/Buddhist temple that we had missioned to in the first few weeks. The one with the temple perched on the side of the mountain? Oy... read the blog more, people.

I'm not sure the specifics of it, but from what I gather the fire is sacred and is supposed to cleanse you of impurities. By literally burning them off of you. We don't actually walk ON fire, or on burning hot coals, but rather on logs that are on the fire, so it isn't so bad, actually. I did get a tiny burn, but I suppose that's the same as someone saying that they got a little wet while going swimming.

After the festival, Ayden drive Renate and I to the train station and we made the mutha with 10 seconds to spare. Quite literally. Well, not THAT literally as when we got to the door someone in a wheelchair was getting off, so that took about 30 extra seconds or so. But if it wasn't for that, it would have been a photo finish.

So while it was nothing that was the hallmark of the Japan odyssey, it was the paragon of just the sort of random, exciting, sleep-deprived weekend that is the norm here in the merry ol’ land of Japan.

A Weekend Out of Time

2007-10-24T00:55:00.000+09:00

FOREWARD: So out of an alternating combination of sloth and perpetual busyness, I haven't written this for two weeks, so here it is now. When you see "this weekend" or "today" or "yesterday", think that it happened two weeks ago.

So many a time, a single decision puts us on course for one destiny or another – the slightest of determinations can drastically and irrevocably shape our fates in profound ways never before imagined. An entire life can be thrown on tangents fantastic and terrifying on a whim.

This was not the case this weekend. We simply made the choice to go to Matsue lest we be bored at home.

Renate, Meredith, and I, on the whim of a moment, decided that we needed to get out of the city, and in fact, out of the prefecture entirely. One of the girls decided that we should do up the neighbouring prefecture's capital as it was not all and all too far away. The plan really took shape when we decided that on the way back we could stop at Mt. Daisen and give it a leisurely climb. Smug and content with out battle plan, we strapped on our armor, ready our weapons, and went to wage war with Saturday and Sunday (We got some clothes together, stopped at the bank, and drove off in the car).

The scenery once you leave the city is quite lovely – and stark, too. One moment you're passing the mall, and the next you're surrounded by mountains and valleys all around you, interspersed with tiny villages here and there. It would be a nice drive on a lazy afternoon – If only gas wasn't so expensive.

NOTE: By the way, gas here is equivalent to about $1.50 a litre, so quit your complaining, Canada. Of course, some of the tanks are smaller, so the fill-up is about the same cost, but... yeah.

Three and change hours and one toll booth later, and we have arrived in Matsue, the capital city of Shimane prefecture. Matsue in many ways reminds me of Tottori, but with subtle differences. Perhaps it's the abundance of older architecture; the "Old Japan" feel if you will. Just carried a "Japanese" air about the place, if that makes any sense.

In any event, we decided to hit up Matsue Castle first. Matsue is one of 12 castles in Japan that is still in its original skin. That is to say, it hasnt been besieged, burnt down, and reconstructed. As such, the walls, roofs, beams, etc., actually are 400 + years old. And as most castles in Japan are prone to having, it was replete with artifacts belonging to the castle lords, armor, swords, painting, scrolls, and many other things making it a veritable museum.

After the castle, we hit up a samurai residence. Just as it sounds, it was a house that was occupied by a samurai family about 200 years ago or so. I really enjoyed it there because I thought it was interesting that people actually lived in this place, going about their daily lives oblivious that some time later people would be admiring it and taking pictures of it and such. It made me think if there were any buildings that I see everyday that could one day be tourist attractions: A police station, a restaurant, my friend's house. Hey, you never know. After all, I'm sure that if I time-traveled back and told someone at the house of its future popularity, they'd be quite surprised – And not just because of the fact that a black dude was talking to them in English during the middle of 19^th century isolationist Japan.

We then missed a little boat cruise by a few minutes at around 5 P.M. (much to the girls' disappointment), and so decided to find us some food as we were starving. This led us to drive and then walk to a place that had a distinctly Western-restaurant feel to it (Think Kelsey's, but more done up). The service started great in that Meredith got her food only minutes after ordering it, but then things took a downward spiral. Almost 15 or so minutes later, Renate got her food. And an almost unprecedented 20 minutes after that, my culinary delight finally arrived (By which point Meredith was long done, and Renate was on the hind legs). Bone-headed us, we decided to order dessert, and that took I don't even remember how long to reach us. Needless to say, while the staff was very friendly, we were left wondering whether the servers also doubled as the cooks.

Dinner in belly, we bid our Matsue farewell, and then back into Tottori prefecture. The next stop found us in Yonago, which is the second biggest city after Tottori city. We humbly asked a friend if we could crash at her place because, as we wanted to do Mount Daisen and it was only about 30 minutes from Yonago (As opposed to two hours from Tottori), we felt it the prudent choice. Our friend graciously allowed us the use of her floor and many futons, and we fell asleep almost immediately.

Sidebar: MAD love to Kira (Upon whose floor we slept). There's one more place in the (Tottori) shi to crash if you're ever on this side of the prefecture. (Shi is a prefix attached to names to indicate that they're cities. We here use it as a diminutive to refer to Tottori city: Tottori-shi = Tottori City; Yonago-shi = Yonago City).

Early on the next morning, we gave out much love to our friend and set out for Daisen. Renate's car – which she has affectionately named Mitsurugi – barely made it up the mountain despite the fact that she had her pedal literally to the floor and the poor ol' boy was still barely making 40. But! We made it. A quick inspection led me to believe that I may have underestimated the mountain, as everyone around was in hardcore hiking gear (Clothing, equipment, backpacks, etc), and I was just chilling in my jeans and t-shirt. I gave it no more than a passing thought and we began our odyssey. Even getting to the stall to pay was a mission and a half as the concourse up to it was a good 30 degree incline or so. There was a few shrines and temples on the way up – a few hundred years old each – and then the actual climb on the path began.
Before I talk about the climb, please keep in mind that I'm really, really... really out of shape. P.E. and me don't see clearly. Please just bear this in mind. So there was two legs to it. In the first leg, it wasn't so bad: The trail was inclined, but fairly constant and the terrain was relatively good. Then we hit a dam – literally. A series of obsolete dams at which we could catch a reprieve as it was a very flat and open space. Then the second leg began.

...

Renate will vouch for me on this one. I think it's safe to say that I've never been so physically exhausted in all my life and I hyperbolize not. Ms. Über-fit Meredith we bade to go on without us as we were being deadweight. And so the two of us were going at the snail's pace, one foot in front of the other, and taking breaks every 20 meters it seemed. Where there were stairs, I was taking it one step at a time – Nothing in the universe existed to me except for that next step that was barely in my field of vision. I think that at one point I actually saw my life flash before my eyes. Conversely, I remembered a few things that I've got to apologize to a few people for. :P It was about at this point, perhaps 1400 meters up, that I got my second wind. From whom I stole it, I know not, but however I did it, I was still winded, but able to continue more easily.

Something cool about the climb was that EVERYONE who passes you, either going the same way or, more often than not, coming back down, will say konnichi wa to you with a smile. A few will even offer you encouragement, such as gambatte ne (Good luck!) or muzukashii ne (It's difficult, isn't it?), and I found these little bits to be rather fostering to my determination to pwn the mountain.

We did in fact summit, at which point I understood the reason for the crazy climbing gear as the temperature dropped a good ten degrees, and add to that flowing air currents that might blow over a small child. But it made for a great view and a very fulfilling sense of accomplishment to finally make it up there.

A friend of ours is going to do the mountain four times over the course of two days – twice a day. We think that he's mad. But to him, I bid gambatte!

The Japanese rock my socks (Or, The Karma Gods are in a good mood)

2007-10-18T02:27:00.000+09:00

The eternal lights in the sky take note of the scurrying little 'uns on the pale blue marble. They pull on cosmic drawstrings to effect the most subtle of events and actions that reverberate forward in time like the butterfly's tornado. Divine intervention, karma, probability, call it what you will; however it seems to swoop down from above and smack us in the head when we often least expect it, for good or for naught. And it just so happens that such a spooky event happened to me yesterday.

For the last few days, I've been doing a presentation for one of my classes. We're doing a unit about world peace and what the students can do for world peace. To give them an example, Karen (The other ALT at my school) wrote a story for all the classes involved about the Free Hugs campaign so as to show the students something easy that one person can do for world peace. Last week, with maybe 10 minutes or so before one of these classes, the teacher that I'd be having class with asked me to put together a powerpoint about the subject. 10 minutes. So in a whirlwind, I manage to research some things and slap something quickly together. It works; the class understood it. Me being the perfectionist that I am, I wanted to make it better (A: Because it was going to be used in other classes by other teachers, and B: Because I was going to be using it the following week), so little by I added in pictures, more explanation, etc. Spice it up a bit.

The point of this deluge is that I've had "Random Acts of Kindness" floating around in my head for the last few days. Bear in mind.

Yesterday @ school was a fight as I was feeling sick from the get go. This nagging sore throat was bothering me all day, and it certainly did not help matters that I had to loudly speak in several classes all day. So coming home, being sick and tired - literally - I had of no inclination to make dinner for myself, so I decided to stop in to a place at the station.
Aside: In or around more sizable stations in Japan, there are a plethora of ramen shops, coffee shops, etc., that serve cheap, quick food to travelers in a hurry or businessmen on the way home.

I stopped in front of a small soba shop and when the owner - a middle-aged woman - smiled at me, I took it as an inviting sign and went it, ordered a bowl, and had a seat at the "bar".

Aside: In Japan, if you speak to someone in Japanese off the bat, especially if you look like you know what you're talking about, especially if your pronunciation is good, they'll continue to speak to you in Japanese until such time as you make a mistake (Say something grossly wrong, fail to understand a question, etc.) at which time they'll either switch to English, or speak in very simple Japanese.

So as I ordered in Japanese very quickly, she proceeded to have a conversation with me. This is no more unusual that it is anywhere else - working at or near a train station/airport/port you encounter your fair share of travelers and want to hear their stories, so you talk to them. Same thing here. I told her I was a teacher living nearby and that I was from Canada and such, and we had a conversation about Canadian life and my time in Japan. Out the blue, during a pause in our conversation, she asked if I like "onigiri", to which I replied in the affirmative, and without a word she took one of the ones for sale on the bar and placed it before me with a smile. Floored, I apologized profusely (that's just what you do here when you get something; apologize) and told her that she didn't have to. She said something along the lines of, "It's no big deal", and that it was ok. I thanked her and finished my meal.

When I paid, she handed me my change, and then placed before me a saran wrapped ball of rice, "for second dinner", she said (I had mentioned earlier in my conversation with her that the soba was my dinner for the evening). Again, I bowed myself silly and told that she didn't have to, but she said that she was happy to do it.

Perhaps it was the random act of kindness that I received at the same time that I was preparing the lessons at school. Or perhaps it was just something nice a stranger did on a day that I wasn't feeling so hot. Whatever it is, I felt impelled to share my simple tale. And so I left the soba shop with a full stomach, a full bag, and a full heart.

Yo's, Fro's, and Potatoes

2007-09-30T21:17:00.000+09:00

If today were a picture, it'd be in the dictionary beside the word "random".

So I wake up around 11:30 - a customary time for a Saturday rousing back home, but almost unheard of for me here - and begin my day with a healthy mix of TV, cereal and, and emails. Whilst online, I learn that a friend of mine in a neighbouring city who hasn't been feeling all that well for the last little while has shown no signs of improvement. And in the most snap of moments, I decide an action plan for the day.

I tell her, "brb" via AIM as though I'm going to do my laundry or some such, hop into the shower, dress, and quickly prepare of an emergency sick kit complete with Buckley's, Tylenol, and the movie 300. Faster than lightening to Emerald City, I'm on an express train to five minute away-town (amen, express train). I get off the train, and immediately see one of my students waiting by the station. I small talk with her for a bit, learning that she had a band practice today (Bear in mind that this is Saturday noontime, still), and asking her for advice on where to get some O.J. I was directed to the grocery store just behind the station, so in I went.

Imagine my surprise when I learn that the lady behind the counter is none other than one of the lunch ladies @ my base school. She's an awesome lady - I teach her a new word or two in English every time I see her. We both exclaim in Japanese @ one another and then strike up a conversation. I eventually get my O.J. and while checking out she tells me that there's a festival that day from two to six. I politely inform her that I don't know if I'll be in town that long but that I'll try nonetheless, and with that, I take my leave.

I finally make it to the house in question and we proceed to play a few games of Risk. The sounds of drumming and chanting and loudspeakers soon filled the house, and we both decided that we simply had to head down and check it out for ourselves. Thus, we struck towards the road going towards town - which was usually deserted - and came upon a filled thoroughfare of moving shrines and people. And it seemed as though all eyes within sight immediately fell upon us as we turned the corner. Nerts.

Winding through the crowd, my friend and I encountered a number of our students here and there, who seemed to get a big kick out of saying "hello", then running off giggling. Some of hers, some of mine... And it was while taking a breather from the kids on the sidelines that the coolest thing of the day (@ least for me) happened:
So we're watching the events unfold while leaning on a house, my friend and I are, when an elderly gentleman standing with his wife made what I can only describe as a, "Oh", and pointed at my friend’s OJ in her pocket. After several points, she took it out so as to display it, and following a quick scrutiny, he seemed satisfied, which we gathered from another "Oh". But oh, no, it didn't end there. He then made another "Oh" and then, with sheer curiosity in his eye, he walked forward and proceeded to pat my head. Needless to say, this was probably one of the most unlikely things that I could have imagined to happen at this point in time and space, so I could do nothing but freeze and ask myself, "Is this really happening". A few pats and he seemed content with his pseudo-afro contact; he returned to where he was standing and continued to watch the festival. Now, in retrospect, I know that this sort of thing was bound to happen and also that he was simply curious, but at the time, it's one of those moments when you have absolutely no idea what to make of what's going on, and WTF flashes brightly like a neon billboard across your mind. My stupefaction now over, I shook it off with a laugh, and went on watching the thoroughfare.

While watching a few more dances, I hear my name called – a surprise in a small town like Koge that someone would know my name – and a lady whom I'd met a few weeks prior calls me over. As it turns out, she and her family lives on this little street that I often walk down, and she invited my friend and I to watch the activities from in front of her house, which we happily accepted.

When everything was winding down, the lady invited us to gather potatoes that she'd planted in a nearby field. Next thing I know I'm standing in between rice paddies trudging through waist-high foliage to get at sweet potatoes buried in the ground. And these are big badboys, mind you, probably as big as my foot. After bringing in the harvest, and herding the cattle and raising a barn (no, those last two didn’t happen), they gave us a bag full of sweet potatoes, eggplant, and cucumbers to say thanks. My floored friend and I could only sheepishly say thanks ceaselessly for several minutes.

Deciding that this was enough excitement for one day, we high-tailed it home for dinner (of potatoes, eggplant, and cucumber, of course), and then I back to Tottori. Granted, all and all, this could actually be considered a fairly normal Saturday in Japan; it certainly wasn't what I was expecting when I just had it in mind to drop by a friend’s place to deliver some medicine.

Watching Football in Japan

2007-09-28T19:49:00.000+09:00

After watching two NFL games here in Japan, I've concluded that it's way, way, way, (repeat ad nauseum), way better to watch football while in Japan than in America or Canada.
(Note: This applies to me because I've actually seen it. Your results may vary)

Reasons?
1) No commercials. At all. Back home you probably watch more from Molson and the latest new movie than you do action from the line of scrimmage. A kickoff is received? Commercial. A timeout is called? Commercial. Someone stubs their toe? Commercial. Quarter end? Commercial. Half end? LONG commercials. Needless to say, a game that has 60 minutes of play time will run at least three hours. Due in part to so many bloody commercials. Here you get the constant action of continually watching football, which is what the game is all about. It becomes that much more fast-paced, which is one thing my ex-wives would continually point out was lacking in football and why they didn't want to watch.
2) Plays follow one another without delay. So after a down, there's usually 40 seconds in which a play is decided and then they line up and go. Here, as soon as a down is done, it cuts right to the next play within about ten seconds. See "fast-paced action" splurge above. As a result, two minutes in the game actually elaspse in two minutes of realtime as opposed to ten in the West.
3) Instant replay. While this happens out in the West as well, when a down ends here, not three seconds pass before the instant replay (usually from at least two different angles) shows you the main action as well as things you may have missed that happened near the sidelines or something. It's like watching the same movie three times frrom three different angles simultaneously.
4) Japanese announcers. This may seem like an odd one, but sometimes the announcers back home would just annoy with useless information or obvious observations. It's like a director's commentary in which they just tell you what the character is physically doing all movie. Here, I've developed the ability to tune out Japanese if need be, so I can watch the game as though no one's talking.
5) Various/Numerous days. The Sunday/Monday rule is out the window here. A game will come on Wednesday, a same will come on Tuesday. Whenever they feel like it. AND (perhaps the best part) there is usually more than one game on during a given week. I think that they show every game that happens during Sunday or Monday - or at least as many of them as possible - over the period of several days during the week. Result? If you like two or three teams, you can watch them all play and not just get the scores on Sportsdesk that night.
Also, during football season, those of us who like it like it a lot. Therefore, this really caters to us that you can come home any night of the week and turn on the game. Great post-work stress relief.

Therefore, for these reasons and many more, I like watching football in Japan.

(Retrospect: After reading this, it sounds like a report that I make my kids do about why they like ~. Haven't done one of these in years. Welcome back grade 3.)

There and Back Again: A JET's Weekend Tale

2007-09-26T00:42:00.000+09:00

So THIS weekend, I visited Magda, a friend of mine from Mac who lives on the other side of the country - think across rather than up to down. But I've become lazy already in my writings, so I'll just post pictures aplenty. They're from Himeji (Castle and gardens), Kobe (Chinatown and buildings), and Akashi - the city in between. Enjoy!

Ooooooooooooooooosaka

2007-09-19T06:57:00.000+09:00

So this weekend, we did up Osaka, we did we did. I think that the original motivation for going was to catch a venerated Japanese baseball game, which are legendary in their own right, however we were too late to secure tickets. In any event, the wheels being in motion as they were, we still thought it a worthwhile endeavour to mission to Japan's second largest city, so off and away we went.

Woke up late. Again. So missed proper breakfast at the coffee shop. Had to settle for McDonalds at the station 'cause it was right there (For the record this was only my second mission to Mickey D's in as many weeks, and my first out of necessity). Met up with Ayden, Kathleen, and Daniel along the way, and then the rest (Michelle, Michelle, Stephanie, and Meredith) at the bus stop. Due to the way we got tickets, (Michelle) Heath had to catch a bus right after us, and the rest of us traveled boarded another bus immediately.

Three sleep-filled hours later – and passing some of the most scenic views in Japan, I think – our arrival into Osaka brought back memories of winding through Tokyo: Sprawling metropolis as far as you can see. We had to wait for Heath, so we spent the time moving about the underground around the station. It was so big that you could have walked for miles without ever having to go outside. And the food that they had display... I tell you, if the restaurants, bakeries, and coffee shops in that place could be anthropomorphized, it'd be that well-build, scantily-clad foxy that gives you "the wink" as you pass by with your significant other on your arm.

In any event, when we met up with Heath, we caved and bought several yummies for lunch and ate them in an open square while observing break dancers and speed-ridden toddlers. Next was off to the hostel, which was a mission and a half because both of our cab drivers didn't know where it was, so there were several conferences with maps and asking gas station attendants and retracing our steps before we finally arrived at the place.

It was my first hostel, and I can say that I started off right. The place was really well-maintained and impressively furnished with TVs, stereos, computers, full kitchens, patios, etc. Definitely good for our money's worth, methinks. We met the owner, (One COOL cat), and chatted him up for awhile, especially Daniel. He was a tall, dark chap from Brazil who's been here a good five, six years on a stopover and just never left. He told us about all the countries he's been (Over 60 he said), and about his upcoming tour around South America, for which he's having his car shipped over. He also has a son who was the coolest thing since sliced bread, and speaks both English and Japanese.

After setting everything down, we headed off to the bar. Keep in mind it was almost 7, and we were meeting up with some Kiwis (New Zealanders) at a New Zealander bar to watch the All Blacks do their thing. We had an awesome tour through the shopping districts of Osaka, replete with their eccentric and fantastic fashion senses, but soon found that we were quite lost after 45 minutes of meandering. We soon discovered that we had long since pasted where we needed to be, and backtracked almost to where we started to get into the bar.
Didn't especially pay attention to the game, but had a great time mingling with the Kiwis, NOVAns, and JETs. Around this time is when Jessica graced with her presence. Jessica is friend whom I've known since my first year at university. We lived in the same residence together. I was very pleas when I found out that she decided to come to Japan as well, and relished this first opportunity to meet up with one of my friends from back home.

After many hours of "catching up" (drinking), Daniel, Jessica, Ayden, and I decided to hit another bar. We did for a bit, but we were all tired, so we headed out. I walked Jessica home, and told the guys I'd be back in about 15 minutes. Big mistake. Not correctly judging distances, I returned to the bar around 3:30 to find it still open, but my friends long. Therefore, my situation as I read it then was this: Here be I, Raymond Levy, alone in one of the biggest cities in the world, at 3:45 AM my first time being here, and I now have to get back to my hostel, alone. It's worth noting that it took about 25 minutes to walk from the bar to the hostel, so the task ahead of me was rather daunting. Due to my uncanny self-contained GPS, I in fact did manage to get back without so much as a wrong turn

The next day, we just went shopping, this way and that. None too exciting to report, expect that some stores' prices in Osaka are about 50% more than home and some are about 50% less. So your eyes are popping no matter where you go. Also noteworthy is the appearance of Erica. Had to give special mention.
That night, some stayed in as they were über-tired (And I don't blame them), and some made it out. I met up with Jess again along with Daniel, Erica, and a British dude named Leslie (I think) at a reggae bar. They had something called Jamaican beer, which I thought was Red Stripe, though the server never heard of Red Stripe. Turned out to be a weird kind of mix between beer and pop. Jess and I hightailed it outta there in favour of Triangle Park. Triangle Park is this small park area that conveniently has a convenience store right beside it. The idea is to buy drinks there for 200 (about $2 CDN) apiece and drink them in the park. As the park is often comprised primarily of foreigners, it's just like being at a bar on the patio. Just without tipping a server. And without bathrooms. And with homeless people intermingled. We met up with Ayden and a few of his mates here and had a few rounds. Then it was decided that Jessica and I would join her NOVA friends in doing up a club.

First club was deserted, so then we tried a second.
...
...
...
I can't exactly describe the mayhem of the inside of this place. Like the Matrix, you've got to see it for yourself. All I'll say is that the closest I can describe of the dance floor was a mosh pit. Bear in mind that R&B and hip hop and all the club anthems were playing. And everyone's looking at me as though I should instinctively know what to do with this sort of music, however I couldn't stand in one spot without being shoved in the mosh, let alone try to dance. Declaring it anarchy, I wasn't on there more than two minutes before I ran for the hills. Worst part is that we had to try to get back on there to tell her friends that we were leaving, and it was almost as bad as the first time. Thankfully she didn't get swallowed up in the madness, which happened to her friends when I first when on the floor with them. We got on together and the next I saw of them was a good hour later.

I walked Jess home around the same time as the previous night, and had to do the same trek home again at almost the same time. Only difference is that I got wise, wrote down the password for the lobby door, and had Ayden leave me a key in Daniel's shoe. So all was well in getting home.

Next day we were leaving in the PM, but decided to hit up Osaka castle early on. What's to say other than we went, we say, we took photos, we bought gifts. Such is the tourist destination.
Catching the bus later on was super, super sweet because we all hit the wall as soon as our butts were down, and home sweet inaka we went.

I, JET

2007-09-14T04:53:00.000+09:00

So just for funs and giggles, and also because I think that I am already having an interesting day, I'll walk you through a school day in the life of Ray.

The alarm on my keitai (Japanese word for cell phone) goes off at 6:25 playing “Dance of the Sugarplum Fairies.” I hit the one-minute snooze once, before a reprisal. The alarm is then turned off altogether. Then the second alarm on my keitai goes off at 6:30. Again, snooze, reprisal, off. This is followed by my old North American Nokia's alarm going off at 6:33. This one has a bit more of a piercing sound, and so that gets off immediately.

Long story short, my brain gets the message that I've got to get up. My body has other plans though. Therefore, at 7 AM, I finally roll out of bed. I should point out here that I have to leave my house between 7:15 and 7:30 to catch the train. A scene of madness ensues which a casual observer would assume to be a man out of sorts or perhaps one that has totally gone mad. Somehow in the 15 minutes that I have, I manage to shower, dress, shave, and pack my bag for the day ahead. In retrospect, I'm still in awe.

Out the door I go at about 7:21 and down the street to the train station. By fortune, my apartment is but a seven-minute walk from the station – five by way of running. I purchase my ticket from the machine and bump into Phil and Kristen doing just the same. At least once a week will us commuting JETs run into one another at the station. Two flights of stairs later, I'm on the platform and wedge myself into one of the last free spaces on the last of three cars of the train.

I should explain the train in the morning here. As we're more “in the country” than other areas of Japan – the fact that we're the prefectural capital be damned for the moment – our trains run less frequently. Every hour or so is the norm, even during morning/evening rush. And so we all have to pile up into this train at 7:31 in the morning, students, salary men, and traveler alike. On any given day, the train is about 94-96% students. And for whatever reason, it's just the three cars. The result is a sandwiched mass of humanity the likes of which you may have heard of (stories of people being forced into subway cars in Tokyo and the like). Now, mark that I don't claim that this happens everywhere in Japan, or indeed that it is like this everyday. Some days it's crowded but not pushing crowded. This has just been the case nearly every morning since I've been here.

After feeling grossly uncomfortable for about 15 minutes, the train stops at the third station and nearly empties to the tone of about 90% of its occupants departing, myself included. In our place go other students bound for another school down the line – which happens to be my second school – but it isn't nearly as crowded. Another 15 minute walk and I'm at my school nestled in the mountains.

First thing is changing shoes as you don't wear your outside shoes inside the school. We have a teacher's entrance where there are little boxes with our names on it for our shoes. We take from them slippers that we wear inside, and put our outdoor shoes in them. The idea is not to bring in dirt and rain and snow and the like into the school. Funny thing about this is that you can wear your indoor slippers to go to the parking lot, or to run into the field quickly for whatever reason (you're not supposed to, but it happens), and so it's possible to bring in the very dirt that you're trying not to; however this is just one of those “that's just the way it is” things about Japan.

After shoes is the walk to the office, and subsequently to my desk. One might recall from a previous post my telling of arriving in Tokyo and running a gauntlet of bowing? Well, coming to school is the same thing, albeit done vocally. As with Canada, it's customary to say “Good Morning” in the mornings. Same thing is done in Japan, except that here you say it to EVERYONE that you pass, student and teacher alike. As well, if you hear it being said, even if the person isn't addressing you, you just say it back. Indeed, often it is said not to anyone specific, but just to announce it to anyone in hearing distance.

So another teacher arrives to change her shoes as I'm leaving, “Ohayou gozaimasu”. I pass the main office, “Ohayou gozaimasu”. Two teachers passed me on the way to the office, “Ohayou gozaimasu”. And then you get INTO the office. I've just started saying, “Ohayou gozaimasu” indiscriminately as I go past the rows and I hear a chorus as my reply. Although I can finally sit down at my desk, there are teachers who pass me, so I have to go back to their “Ohayou gozaimasu”. All and all, I probably utter it about 30-40 times in a given morning, including to my classes and random students that cross my path.

Every morning we have a morning meeting. It's akin to morning emails that one gets at work. First the principals and staff address the whole room, and then we break into our grades and have another, more exclusive one. I understand maybe a collective 10 seconds out of 10 minutes worth, but the teachers usually fill me in on the important stuff.

Before the morning meeting though, I have one of my teachers already standing by my desk as I arrived. She gave me a few worksheets and explained that this is what we'd be doing in first period. This doesn't sound like much, but considering it's 8 in the morning and I was sleeping not one hour ago and still have a swimming head and haven't even sat down yet, this is a lot to take down first thing at my desk.

After the meeting, I go to one my teacher's class to read three sentences every morning. His students learn new vocab everyday, and he gives me three words in the morning with which to form sentences and read to his class for listening comprehension. So I make the sentences, go to his class, and then come back to the staff room to chill for a few more minutes. This is followed by cleanup time, which I also have to explain. So! In most Japanese schools, there's no dedicated janitor. At least there isn't that I've seen. So for ten minutes in the morning, the students clean the school. They sweep the floors and wipe down the boards and clean the bathroom and everything. My task in helping one class is to go onto a section of the grounds and pull out weeds. An exercise in futility if I've ever seen one, but that's just the ways it is. I chuckle to myself wondering how Canadian kids would rebel if asked to clean their classroom. On the surface, this seems absolutely heinous, but considering that we don't trash the school by the end of each day, the daily upkeep isn't that strenuous in the least.

As cleanup time ends, we finally start class. For my first period, we did an expansion of emotion/feeling vocabularly which culminated in me acting out various emotions much to the students' delight. My second class was switched from second to third period (With no one telling me. Although class changes are posted on a board every morning. In Japanese.) and therein we read from a book, did conversations, and I answered questions while they did English activities.

Any given day I'd have had fourth period on Thursdays off, but a cancelled class on Tuesday was moved to today, so I had to do yet another self-introduction class. Self-introduction wears on you. The way an army fatigue wears on a soldier after three weeks in the field and no change of clothes. You do it for each class you have – call it five or six or seven different classes per school – and times it by however many schools you have. I have two, so in theory I've done this anywhere from 10 to 14 times. I've created a slideshow of pictures that I explain concerning myself, Canada, Jamaica, my family, my friends, etc (A few of you reading this are in it, by the way). I've been told by the teachers that the students really enjoy it, but you'd never know from looking at their dull, cow-eyed expressions. Self-intro ends and I ask them if they have any questions. You could hear the current running through the power cords it's so quiet. If I'm lucky, I'll get two questions. The same two questions: “How old are you?” and “Do you have a girlfriend?”, which garners the two response of "Wakai ne" (Young, isn't he) and giggles, respectively. I didn't even get those today, so we resorted to picking on kids to ask me. Then they introduced themselves to me: “Hi, my name is Akira. I like sports.” The most popular response was, "Hello, my name is ~. I don't like English." Three kids said, “Hi, my name is ~. I like Raymond”, to which the entire class would erupt. I'm glad that I can at least get a laugh out of them, albeit at my expense.

Lunch followed, but I was talking with so many teachers and kids that I hadn't a few minutes to eat. I jumped right into my next class with the sports kids, and that involved me reading while they answered questions based on what I read. Every so often, the entire class would randomly start giggling and staring at me for what I perceived to be no reason. After convincing myself that I don't have food on my face, or that my fly isn't down, I just shrug and ignore it.

Lo and behold, a fifth class then follows. This was an oral class, so I spend the class reading phonetic symbols of English and words using them. You'd never think that the difference between hearing 'lock' and 'luck' or 'lock' and 'rock' would be so profound, but just wait until you see 40 contorted faces looking at you.

Oh, by the way, about half my classes are 40 or so kids, usually a split class that combines just for me. A few classes that I have are about 10-20, but 40 is what I consider the norm. For me, at least.

My classes finally over, I hit the cafeteria for my lunch at 2:20 finally, chilling with a teacher while there. Then came back here to finish up this blog. I started this at about 8:30 this morning. It's now 3:50. I want to post this, so I won't keep documenting until I leave. For now, I'll probably check out a few sports clubs and see what they're up to, then mosey on the 4:20 or 5:10 train home for meager dinner and decent sleep for once. Oh, perchance to dream...

So this is a more or less typical day for me. Mark differences are that I usually don't do five classes in a day; it's more around three or four. I usually have time for lunches. Also, my classes usually don't go so back to back; I've got breaks and such here and there. I just thought that this day was a bit out of the ordinary, so decided to share it. Pray for Mojo.

...

A short epilogue: I just noticed that I'm wearing my high school uniform - white dress shirt and grey slacks - the same grey slacks that I wore back then, too. Laugh if you will, but dropping $60 a pant times four pants? I'm wearing these badboys 'till they fall apart.

Still alive

2007-09-05T23:35:00.000+09:00

Two things I've discovered in my month here in Japan so far: 1. I'm consistently tired; and 2. I have an omnipresent hunger.

The first I attribute to both school and social life. Waking up anytime before 7 in my books makes for a tired Ray, and doing so at 6:30 five days a week is just so. Once I get my shower, I'm bright-eyed and bushy tailed (such as one can be for 6:45), but right around lunchtime, the high wears off and I drop like a pile of bricks. Thankfully many of my classes are in the afternoons, so actually getting up and doing things allow me to stay conscious. The second I stop moving however, which happens after school, after the walk to the train station, and finally plunked down onto a seat, I'm out for the 45 min it takes to get home. It's a nice little catnap, sure, but not enough to recharge the batteries. The result feeling drained after getting home almost to the point of not have the energy or inclination to make dinner. IF I'm able to do that, then the evening is special indeed.

Usually at this point however is when the c-mails (essentially text messages) and e-mails start. This is the social blame. Living in an apartment block with ten other JETs as well as being within striking distance of about a half dozen others will give way to dinner invites, shopping excursions, and a variety of other activities and distractions that follow the working day. I'm not complaining of them in the least; in fact, it's rather refreshing to slip back into English and give one's ears a rest after a day of veritable verbal assault. The only relative downside is such expeditions returning one to their apartment around 11 or thereafter, which puts us into bed with less than seven or six hours, restarting the whole twisted cycle. Now, if you're one of those people who do six hours as matter of course and can feel none the worse during the day, my hat goes off to you. However, if you're one like I that CAN make it through the day on only a few hours, but feels like a worn tire doing so, then you know that し方がない (this won't do). I'm just thankful for the number of public holidays that we enjoy here in Japan as one of the saving graces (this month in particular as I've got three long weekends in a row).

On matters of the stomach, I suppose that this could be construed as a commentary on the Western habit of indulgence. It could be that I and I being used to food in such volume and availability as was the case in Canada that I now find myself having to adapt to the culinary ways of Japan. Cooking in my apartment is somewhat more difficult than it was back home. Reason being is that I only have one burner and perhaps a half square meter of counter space – if that. I'm used to having two or three burners going at the same time, in addition to an oven. However, I'm reduced to much less than that, and as a result I'm finding that I have to alter what I would usually include on the dinner menu. Furthermore, my fridge is a mini-fridge, so I'm unable to stock it full of two, three weeks worth of produce. It's still tricky in that I've got to go to the grocery store more often to see what's available and what I can make, but I'm sure that after a few more weeks I'll get into a comfortable swing of things.

Oh, sidebar. Speaking of the grocery store, I've got two complaints about the dairy section here. First is that I can't seem to find any half & half. If it's written in strange kanji that I can't recognize, or I just plain miss it, I apologize, but I haven't seen any since I've gotten here. Second is that the milk seems to have expiry dates of one week. Now, I can drink milk fairly regularly, but giving allowances for the mornings where I just don't have the time, and also when I want to drink O.J. or some other alternative, I just can't do it that quickly. A few extra days would be greatly appreciated.

A more slighted example is McDonalds, which I partook in for the first time just the other day. The fries and drink, being medium here, seem to be in between that of a Canadian small and medium, at least so as I could gauge it. A pleasant surprise was that a Big Mac here is great because the patties don't seem to shrink by the same curious amount that they do in Canada, they're not overflowing with lettuce that seems have a head left in the box, and they're piping hot, as if just freshly made.

So I can't eat to the point of being gluttonous as often as I'd like, but I suppose that just means that I don't have to worry about one more of those seven deadly sins. Now to work on sloth...

Partying at the Buddhist Temple

2007-08-27T01:35:00.000+09:00

This weekend was Mitoku-san. (In Japanese, you call a mountain 'san'. It's the same as saying 'Mt.'). The idea was to check out an incredibly old temple on top of a mountain, or so was said. It's supposed to be one of the culturally amazing areas of the prefecture, and is in the runnings for becoming a Unesco World Heritage site.

Saturday starts with us waking up @ some ungodly hour – 10 AM – so as to make it to the train station and hit it up. Lo and behold, as many a friend will attest to, with nearly an hour to get ready, I somehow made it out the door with only ten seconds to spare. Perhaps I do take a long time to get ready... That's a mull for another time. We make it to the station; however I realize that I do not have enough coin to get me there and back and who knows if there's a bank @ a Buddhist monastery. A slight detour found me at the bank and before an ATM where frustration confounded me before long. I kept putting in my card, entering my pin, selecting withdrawal and the amount, and then the blasted machine would spit my card back out at me with no money dispensed. This happened maybe four or five times before I gave up in resignation, and was forced to borrow money from a friend (Jay would later inform me that one has to select withdrawal, THEN insert their card. Who knew?).

Needless to say, we in Kurayoshi without hitch after we caught the train. A quick reunion with all that other kids spread 'cross the prefecture and we were on our bus up into the mountains. The journey took only a few minutes, but reminded me of winding through the hills of Jamaica. Granted there are guard rails in Japan and the roads aren't as wide as a Mini, but I felt a little nostalgic.

We finally get to the temple, and then immediately set out upon our trek up the mountainside. It was an arduous affair of literally grasping for roots and rock to propel yourself up the mountain. At some points, there are no handholds at all, and it's almost like spelunking without harness – a tricky endeavour. So a few hundred meters up we go, tooth and nail at times, but the climb is pleasantly interrupted by sporadic Buddhist edifices here and there. A small shrine here, a temple there. And the thing is, you can walk around them, but there are no guardrails of any sort. So you've got about a foot and a half allowance before a drop of a hundred feet or more to the mountainside below. I got quite the case of vertigo peering over the side and thus remained as close as possible to the wall lest I feel dizzy and take a little spill. We eventually saw the temple itself that we came to see. Can't remember the name of it, but it was something in the order of 1,300 years old. I can't really describe it, so I'll hopefully be able to post a picture.

We descended in about half the time the ascent took, and returned to the visitor's centre for a shower and relaxation. Dinner soon followed, which rocked the llama's socks. All the while here, I think that the dinner's that I eat are twice as good as any Japanese food that I ever had back home. Seriously, if you want the best Japanese food in life, it isn't too much of a stretch to believe that you can find it in Japan.

After dinner, we had a band play for us, then each nationality that was there had to do a little cultural presentation on something that exemplified their culture. This was nowhere near the level of a formal thesis presentation; more for entertainment. The English played Blind Man's Bluff and sang a song, the Aussies and Kiwis gave a talk on how New Zealand has now become a part of Australia, the Americans did the Electric Slide, the German taught us how to cheers a beer, the Canadians sang, “If I Had A Million Dollars”, the Filipinos put on some sort of dancing game involving bamboo poles, and the French did a Can-Can.

This occupied most of the night, and for the remainder, we drank beer and sake until we passed out. For the most part, we all slept in a communal room, except for a few other smaller rooms that were filled. Thankfully I didn't snore (although I still don't think that I do), though Jay did right behind me, and I had to all but slap him in the head to get him to quit it.

We awoke at around 6 for meditation at 6:30. This was quite the effort as we retired around one or one thirty, and we'd been consuming many alcoholic drinks during the evening. Moreover, 6 in the morning is something that most of us usually know not of, so imagine our surprise when our watches showed us this fantastic hour.

Because of the number of us, we staggered meditation and breakfast: Half would do one, then half the other, and we'd switch. I ate breakfast first, which included white rice. I'm not accustomed to eating steaming rice at 6:30 AM, but when in Rome... Meditation was cool. The resident monk taught us about why they meditate and what it means to them, and followed this by showing us how to meditate. At one point, he slaps you on the back with this big stick, and it sounds as though he's tearing up your vertebrae, but it doesn't hurt all that much.

We then watched a slideshow on all of our countries that took a good two plus hours or so, to which we lost many to sleep.

Then we all piled into cars and headed home. The end. :)
Sort of an anti-climactic wrap up, but I'm tired of writing. I've been working on this post on and off for about two weeks. Frankly, I don't want to see it anymore.

The Bells and Whistles of Tokyo

2007-08-17T20:54:00.000+09:00

**Note: This is not the be all and end all treatise of Tokyo. It's just the extremely limited exposure that I had with only a few free hours each day. If you’re interested in/going to Tokyo, there's TONS more than this; it's only a scratch of the surface**

An aside back to Tokyo, if you will, as the memories are still fresh in mind with only a little more than a week's worth of dust on them. As Mike was so fond in pointing out, Tokyo in many ways reminded he and I of Toronto - If you can imagine the GTA on steroids and multiply it by 8. But past the ridiculous amount of people, apparent lack of garbage cans (Outside of the hotel, I saw two garbages the entire time. Then again, Tokyo was also ridiculously clean. Go figure), blond-haired Japanese kids, and no jaywalking, it almost could have been University or Queen or Bay. For the most part, the little that we did see of Tokyo was the inside of the Keio Plaza Hotel, which in and of itself isn't TOO bad considering it's a stupidly nice hotel.

So I got to my room first (us JETs had to double or triple up on rooms. After all, paying for 1,000 separate rooms is a bit much), and took the time to relax and catch my breath after being up for just about 24 hours (it was about 5 in the afternoon, so I still had a full night to go yet). First thing I did, as many people do after a trip, is use the washroom. There I had my first subtle taste of culture shock. Now, I couldn't find the lever to flush the toilet (I would soon discover that it was on the side of the sink) so here I am looking like a kid in front of a new toy touching every this and that with the hopes of getting my desired result. There was a small pad with buttons – yes, buttons on a toilet – but I decided to steer clear lest I blast the bidet sky high. In my confused stupor, I accidentally bumped the side of the toilet seat with my hand and all of a sudden the water inside starts recycling and moving about and such. Considering my next-to-no knowledge of Japanese toilets aside from what I saw once on the Simpsons, I half expected this thing to sprout arms and legs, come to life, and flush itself or something. I mean, I just touched it and it was making like it’s performing a systems check for mission control. My darting eyes found the lever just then and that was that. You might think that it's a little embarrassing that a toilet would give me so much difficulty, but it just serves to show that many of us would have similar experiences with machines, conventions, and people that back home we wouldn't think twice over (don't get me started on the washing machine...).

The first night was rather straightforward. We met up with Teru, our old TA from university who has since finished and is now living in Tokyo. Went to a little hold-in-the-wall-in-the-basement restaurant where we sat on tatami (Japanese straw mat that's found just about everywhere. Houses, restaurants, etc.), ate I don't even know what except for the fact that it was awesome, and drank beer by the mug. A typical Japanese evening out.

Evening came, morning followed. Orientations ran, JETs slept. The second day.

So after discarding our formal whatnaught for our comfortable civvies, we hit the town again mid-afternoon with the original plan of checking out the Imperial Palace and Akibahara (Akibahara is the electronics gadget section of Tokyo. The Mecca of nerds worldwide. All the best stuff that won't come out for years in the West is to be found here). That was the plan, anyways. After some deliberation and slight uncomfortableness, the group split in two and those I was with went to get some lunch. We popped into this tiny place, space for maybe a dozen or so, where we're on stools sitting more or less around the chef. At our head level is a conveyor belt system that goes through the kitchen and out. For those who've never seen this sort of place, I'll explain:
The chef makes individual-sized portions of food and puts it on the conveyor belt, which circles around and passes in front of all the customers. If you see something that you like, you take it off and eat it. You stack the plates that you've eaten into a little pile. When you're finished, the waitress tallied you bill by checking the plates – the colour and texture of the plate determines the price of it (anywhere from about $1.05-$3.50 CAD). Oh, and on the belt, there are prices before the plates so you know what you're paying for. This gets mad thumbs up because you can stop eating whenever you want, catering to those after a quick bite or a full meal, and also you can eat only what you like and skip those things that would make your stomach turn.
I dropped about $7.50 for a full meal of about six or so plates, which the dudes I was with piles up about nine or ten.

That evening was karaoke.

…

I'm reticent to explain it as it is a common experience throughout Japan repeated thousands, if tens or hundred of thousands of times a night, every night. But in a nutshell, you pile as many people as you can into a room, depending on your price, you order drink by drink or get unlimited and drink as fast as you can. Then you sing, sing, sing. And talk and eat and drink and sing... The beer is what helps encouraging the courage and audacity of many, especially those for whom it should be illegal to hold a microphone. And also those who never want to be caught dead singing in public, i.e. me. Needless to say, Ray plus several hours of free beer plus a mic plus a directory book that has Ne-Yo in it is a very rare (hopefully), messy, and volatile combination. ‘Nuff said.

Evening came, morning followed. Orientations ran, JETs slept. The third day.

The formal was retired and the normal clothes returned, I decided to buy a camera on me last night. Mike, Keith and I hit up this huge electronics store not far from the hotel, and Mike and I managed to score good deals on some camera. We hit up a little (maybe a dozen people big – many restaurants in Tokyo, much like everything else, are economy size for your convenience) soba place for dinner, and sat down. After five minutes of wondering where a waitress was, a tiny obaasan (grandmother) appeared from the kitchen hollering, "Mazu kippu, soshite agete! Kippu, soshite agete", which meant that we had to pay a machine first with our order, and then it would print a ticket with what we wanted that we gave directly to the kitchen. Our dumb gaijin (foreigner) butts got the message and we complied. After dinner, most people just leave, or say “gochisosama [deshita]” (it was a big feast – said when you’re done eating) and walk out. I made a point to pass by the kitchen to thank the chef (s) and the little obaasan and comment on how tasty the noodles were. You should have seen their faces light up and the bowing that returned the comment. I suppose that they were surprised at someone saying such a thing. It just goes to show: make the little efforts here and there, and people respond in ways you might not expect.

We met up with Keith and Mike's friend later on for another dinner, and went to some non-descript place for random munchies. The entire time, Mike, Anna, and I were playing with our new cameras without pause. Those who get new electronics frequently will know what I mean when I say that getting a new gadget is like opening the big present on Christmas morning. Your socks are knocked off and all reality becomes solely what's in the box – everything else may as well be blown to blazes and you're still sitting there glassy-eyed admiring your new toy. Especially if that toy comes straight from Japan and has features yet to be introduced sometime. Remind me to tell you about my cell phone sometime...

It was a quiet evening after which we returned to the hotel to run into a rather inebriated Keith who thought that beer was candy and he was smack in the store, let me tell you. The five or six of us relaxed in Mike & Keith's room to spend our last evening together for quite a while before we left in the morning for our new digs. But you've already read about that, right, and probably don't want to hear about it again.

Did that just really happen?

2007-08-16T18:41:00.000+09:00

**Off the bat, I apologize for the length of this entry. I’ve had a number of moments of free time and could think of nothing else to do but to write; and because so much as happened over the last little while, there is much to detail**

It's that dumbfounded, euphoric, recently nostalgic high that you feel after arriving home after a wild night out on the town, or sitting on your bed after a fantastically picturesque first date, or getting back on the plane after a week's vacation from halfway around the world. When you finally stop moving and have time to collect your thoughts to go over what just happened. And you find yourself so overwhelmed that so much happened in so small an amount of time that you think to yourself, “Did that just really happen?”

I can tell you that hundred of kilometers from where I call home, about 2,000 people did just that recently. From all walks of life and all corners of the globe, they descended upon Narita airport in Tokyo in a mass exodus of weary bodies and precariously overloaded suitcases. Some had been traveling for 10 hours. Others 15. Some even still had said their final goodbyes more than 24 hours prior and were just now getting off of their final of three or four different airplanes. And if that is not incredible enough by itself, the majority of these travelers had little more than an hour's sleep on the plane. If that. Trying to get comfortable in economy class sandwiched between two people is a feat in and of itself; needless to say that many became fast friends with a slightly ulterior motive of getting a shoulder or arm to rest on.

And it was that after countless movies and TV shows, impromptu exercise up and down the aisles and incessant restroom breaks (In my case none. Still don't know how I did it), the doors finally opened and we poured from the cramped yet cool cabin into an even more cramped and much hotter Customs line. I'm not entirely sure how the non-Japanese speaking JETs made it through without a hitch, though I hope that they figured out that displaying the JET sticker and saying, “I'm a JET” would meet with a quick “Hai, hai!” and return of the passport.

The jetlagged-exacerbated whirlwind was finally parted when we saw that first aqua shirt of a returning JET that was there to show us the way. And show us the way they did as perhaps every five meters we would see another, and another, and another, all pointing, “Welcome to Japan! This way. That way. Up there. Down there. Welcome!” We were directed all over the airport and back before finally emerging in the parking area to load busses to Tokyo.

At first, I thought to myself, “Narita's in Tokyo, but there are fields around us. Where are the building and such?” And for quite a while that was indeed the case: small buildings and fields with roads running all this way and that. But I was soon put in my place as it seemed that the metropolis that was Tokyo appeared as if out of nowhere and we soon found the bus surrounded by towering building and being winded like a snake over avenues and walkways.

I should point out that while I say, “we soon found...”, the soon was about an hour and change worth of driving, yet only for a few dozen kilometers. The speed limit on most of the highways in Japan in 90 km/h, and NO ONE seems to break it. Granted, there is the occasional car that may pass at about 97, 98 in the fast lane, but for the most part it is followed religiously. Therefore, as a native of Ontario, where you'd better be doing at least 110 lest you be honked off the road, it felt as though it was taking forever. But, I digress.

Amidst city gridlock and endless driving, we finally found ourselves in front of the lobby of our hotel with our bags in hand. We were directed to a specific room to pick up some information and our room keys, but let me tell you how my back ached just from making it through that relatively simple gauntlet. From before you even make it into the hotel, the parking attendants are bowing at you and saying, “Konnichi wa (Hello)! Irasshaimase (Welcome)!” And then there's the front desk staff that see you out of the corner of their eyes, and even though they're a good 20, 30 meters away, you can still hear their “Irasshaimase” from across the lobby with more bowing. Then you make it up the escalator to the room and there's about four or five people who seem to have the only function in life of motioning you into the room with a “Dozo, dozo! (Please, this way), and – you guessed it – more bowing. THEN you finally get into the room with about fifteen or twenty Japanese people attending tables just waiting for us to arrive. And each and every single one smiles and bows about three or four times with another “konnichi wa”. So by the time I made it to the elevator, I've felt as though I've done about 75 ab crunches, but at the same time as though I'm the greatest thing since sliced bread with all the attention.

Needless to say, for those who haven't gone through the JET orientations, I'll spare you the next two days. There was a lot of mind your P's and Q's and here's what you can/can't do, should/shouldn't do, etc. If you've ever had an orientation at work, imagine receiving a HUGE manual, then going to a three-day event replete with presentations, then flying to Tokyo for two more days of it. Then flying to your city for another day or two more. Then going to your school for another day times however many schools you have. By the time all was said and done, most of us don't want to hear the word 'orientation' for a good six to eight weeks.

So after two days of air conditioned rooms, business suits, catered meals, and endless information sessions – interspersed with free time gallivanting around Tokyo – we finally went our separate ways onto plane and train to head to our host prefectures and cities. After what seemed like a hop, skip and a jump to Haneda airport and then onto a plane finally found us descending into the city that I would be calling home for the next year. A start contrast from Tokyo, when I looked out the window, I saw fields in the place of buildings, green in place of gray. I'd like to say it was what I was expecting considering that when I searched for Tottori on Wikipedia it said that it was the least populated prefecture, but on the other hand, as is with much on this trip so far, it did take me by surprise.

I thought it a good idea to be in full business attire when I arrived so as to make a good first impression, so you can imagine my surprise when my supervisor greeted me in t-shirt, shorts, and sandals. The surprises only continued as we drove from the airport through town, to my apartment (which bears a striking resemblance to my room in residence, in size), and the people that I would meet.

Thus far the people that I have met, both Japanese and non-Japanese alike have been very friendly and tons of fun to hang with and I’m hoping for more of the same as the time goes on. I don't miss everyone back home TOO much, but I think that it's because the gravity of the situation that it'll be a year hasn't sunk in yet. It still feels like a few weeks or so that I'll be gone. However, according to the JET calendar, my longing for home will kick in in a few months, so let's wait and see how close to the mark it gets.