Ooooooooooooooooosaka

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.
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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

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.

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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

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

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

**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.

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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?

**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.