Postcards on the Radio

2008-08-30T17:59:00.001-07:00

Future posts have been moved to:

http://kiddywonkus.livejournal.com

The Dropout

2008-08-22T19:52:00.000-07:00

I could recognize him from a half a kilometer away. He could dye his hair, and change his clothes, but his stature and baby face and strangely suited bad-ass vibe are a dead giveaway. Still, I check his nametag to be sure.

He is Ren, one of the banes of my first teaching year. He was among the worse students, only scoring above their pitiful scores of three or four by ten points. No matter what I did, I could not get him to like me. So, instead, I went out of my way to make him hate me. At least then, I felt, I deserved it.

I had not seen him in the hallways, but I assumed it was because I didn’t teach 2-1 Home (the only class in school that despises me). However, his bleached hair and daytime job tells me all I need to know. I was facing my first dropout, one who I had helped along his path because I failed him. I should feel guilty. I was the last step of a school system that failed him. Japan led him to that final step, but in his last act of rebelliousness, he jumped before they could push. I didn’t catch him. But then again, I don’t catch people who jump of their own volition.

He sees me, and wrinkles his nose. It’s eight in the morning, and he’s the only clerk open.

“Did you dye your hair?” I know what I’m implying.

“Yeah.” He answers only because it’s his job to be polite.

“Thanks.” I take my change and walk away, annoyed that I dislike him as strongly as he I.

Boys

2008-08-14T17:45:00.000-07:00

I'm afraid of boys now. That is what Japan does to a girl's self esteem. Japan, a country where stating someone's wieght is as straightforward as saying the weather.

"Hello! You're fat today, aren't you?"

Indeed.

I don't even want to leave the house anymore, which, of course, only makes me fatter. Such is the way.

I blame Mr. Quiet for this, and I blame Kanae-chan for trying to set us up when clearly he wasn't interested.

Beauracracy

2008-06-09T18:59:00.000-07:00

I forgot to turn my tests in for the last series of finals in March, so in between classes I've been rummaging through my ill-filed paperwork, desperately looking for the tests. Fujii comes to me in the middle of class, and tells me to give it to Fujita ASAP. I tell him once I'm done teaching, I will. Nothing could entince me to abandon this class with Takeuchi. They are already awful at English, and leaving Takeuchi alone with them, I fear, will exercebate the problem.

I give the test to Fujita during the passing period. He turns around, at that exact moment, and gives it to Takagi. I walk back to my desk, with Takagi following me, and as I sit down I watch him hand it to Takahashi. I laugh a little, and explain to him what I think is so funny. He, too, chuckles a little bit. Then, he sees Yamagami enter the room. "Ah! Yamagami-sensei! Onegaishimasu!" he says, handing my test to Yamagami. Both Takahashi and I are grinning broadly at this point.

"Ok! I'll give it to the vice principal," says Yamagami.

We both burst out laughing.

...

2008-06-08T16:30:00.000-07:00

I've only been to work for fifteen mintues, and already I want to go home. Pretending to work is the hardest thing in the world, and I'm starting to wonder if I'm cut out for this job.

Getting a license is "worse than a prostate exam" according to Travis, and although I'll never have to undergo it, I can imagine. You have to make appointments to get paperwork in, and then if you don't have it all, make another appointment (all of these last only five minutes). Then, you must make another appointment to take the written test, and then another appointment after that to take the driving test (which is famous for failing foreigners about four or five times).

I can't even get to the tests. No, I'm having trouble prooving that I drove in the United States for 90 days. There is no document prooving that in the history of the world! My tax returns don't work, nor does my Certificate of Residence becaue the signature on them are copied. Yes, that's right, they want a real signature. The reason is is that the Japanese use hankos (stamps) to sign documents, and they figure the closest equivalent is our signatures. However, stamps are easy to give out to the grunts on the clerical staff for them stamp on documents as the please. When it comes to signatures, there is only one guy who can do the signing, and seeing that he is the head hancho, it's likely he has other things to do.

Irritating? Right? Well, I lose my license in under a month, and I'm starting a new job where I absolutely HAVE to drive, but it seems unlikely I'll be able to drive. I have hour and a half bike rides, and expensive bustrips to look forward to now.

It's enough that I'd like to break my contract. Japan... Japan just sucks too much sometimes.

The Unbearable Pressure

2008-05-01T20:19:00.001-07:00

I am only teaching six classes a week. With all this extra time, one would think that I could prepare better for classes, but exactly the opposite is true. The less time I have, the better I do. I'm swimming in it right now, and well... I'm wasting every minute of it.

If life were interesting at all right now, I would give you another post.

This is just to let you know I'm still alive.

In the Land of Sweets

2008-04-17T16:28:00.000-07:00

There are an overwhelming amount of people in Japan, when asked, will say they hate sweet things. Fujita-sensei is case and point. Everytime I give him anything that may even have a grain of sugar in it, he eats it --out of politeness more than anything else-- and then tells me why he didn't like it.

That being said, there are also an overwhelming amount of sweets in Japan. A girl on a diet is in trouble everytime she walks into a mall, a convenient store, grocery store, or even a souvenir shop.

Fortunately, most of the time, the flavor are just simply unpalatable for the western tongue (red bean paste and green tea, for example) but some of the pastries just aren't fair. They are cute, and I mean too cute, and they are just begging to be eaten in the most violent fashion possible.

With a name like Pig Bread, it's a wonder it was delicious at all. It bought at the Australian Bakery in the far reaches of the the Noto inaka (rural rural countryside)

Melon Bread in the shape of a turtle, cleverly called Kamelon Bread (Kame being the word for turtle)

This probably violates all sorts of copy right laws. This is Tottoro, the Mickey Mouse of Japan. This was DELICIOUS! I ate his ears first.

Can you see how unfair life is here?

Sayonara

2008-03-24T05:23:00.000-07:00

Saying goodbye was something I was made to do.

However, right now, I find myself completely unable to move passed this horrible sinking feeling: Bill and Okada are gone. They both will still only live only a half hour away, but our connection through work is irrecoverably lost. Somehow that is more painful than if they were to move as far as the moon.

I remember that I asked Okada-sensei, "will we still be friends?"

She laughed, but she said nothing.

Diarrhea

2008-03-10T16:48:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting at home, watching The Daily Show, as is my habit for dinner, when I get a message on my cellphone from Beth. This surprises me for two reasons: 1. I hate my cellphone, so most people only use it to contact me in times of need. 2. Beth never messages me... ever.

The message is as follows:

I'm sitting across from diarrhea boy on the train.

Chances are, you are just as confused as I am. I rack my brains for a moment, and then remember her husband and my favorite contestant in the Speech Competition we had to judge. His speech went a little something like this:

DIARRHEA (snickers from me and James) is the worlds greatest killer
(snickering subsides as we judges realize that he's serious). We must stop
DIARRHEA! (surpressed snickers)

It is a serious issue, and I feel bad enough already for laughing at him before he even got the second word in his speech, so let's not dwell on that.

I messsage her back, telling her that she ought to talk to him about it. Ten minutes later, my cellphone vibrates, proclaiming a new message:

I would, but it looks like he's trying to hold it in. (poop emoticon and restroom emoticon)

Welcome to the Surreal

2008-03-05T20:53:00.000-08:00

Kojima-sensei is bothering me again. He told me that his grandfather was a samurai, I think, but was in Hawaii, so he was not a samurai. Confused? Yeah, me too.

In any case, Fujita to the rescue says, "my grandfather fought in World War II".

Then I realized.... Our two families, only one generation removed, were fighting over the Pacific Ocean.

Thankfully, Kojima shut up long enough for me to ponder this.

Yakedo!

2008-03-05T15:05:00.000-08:00

It turns out that if you're going to burn yourself (not that it ought to be a conscious decision), doing it with wax is the best way to go. While it does initially inflict the wound, it also acts as a bandage and protects the wound from open air at the same time.

Of course, I am starting to get worried. I actually can't feel the burn area any more... Not that I want to feel that pain after it took for me hours to fall asleep last night through it.

Graduation Part 1

2008-03-03T16:27:00.001-08:00

I hate it when I hate something so deeply that I know it must stand for deeper, psychological problem.

What is it that I hate? I hate graduation. I hate it. I find it uncomfortable, and boring, in addition to the collassal waste of time it is to listen to people spout useless advice that even they did not take.

Japanese graduation is a solemn affair (there are no cheers of congratulations, or wild applause of parents), that takes place in the cold gym in the beginning of Spring. It is symbolic, and all speeches are about the Spring of youth, leaving that horrible snow cloud of mortality hoover implicitly over them.

Today, Tetsuya became more of a man. For twenty minutes, he stood before the students who both loved and adored them, spewed cliched things about Spring that he truly meant, and made an effort to hold back tears long enough for him to finish his speech. I smiled at him everytime he looked in my direction, which now that I reflect upon it, probably flustered him more than it helped.

Generally, when people cry at ceremonies, I think they are doing it because they think it's what they ought to do. However, when it came to my students, I honestly believed it. This is not an American school, where one has classes with in excess of 400 students before High school is over, they are a tightly knit group that have been together since they were 14 or younger.

My graudation message, therefore, meant nothing to them. I spoke about the future at great lengths because I thought that was expected of me, but this is what I really wish I had said.

You have probably woken this morning with a feeling that both saddens and enlivens you. The knowledge that today, your life has finally changed must be in your hearts today. Your lives have changed, but not fundamentally. Look around you. Today, you are still with your fellow classmates. Yesterday, you may have been with a few of them, but not all. The day before, you may have slept in, watched television, and saw no one.

But please, do not misunderstand me. Today is different. It is different than yesterday, but no more so than yesterday was different than the day before that. Life changes, in little, subtle ways. We only think this is a big thing because we discovered that this small thing has changed for all of us at the same time.
This is not the first day of your new life. That was the day you were born. However, everyday is the first day in the long progress that will be your life, and everyday something will change, whether you notice it or not, and you must move
on and accept or deny what comes. Today is just like any other day. Make that decision as you always have.
I know that many of you are sad. You are saying goodbye to dear friends and a
way of life that you had become comfortable with, but know this, if today did
not happen, you would not be continuing the rest of your life. You would be surrendering yourself to death long before it is time.
Rejoice in this change, even if you wish that somethings could stay the same, and leave this hall happily.

I say this because I watched my favorite student walk out of the gym in such quiet desolation that it near broke my heart. I have faith in Shota though. If anyone understands the value of change, it is him.

The End of Things to Come

2008-02-27T21:02:00.000-08:00

Today, Fujita showed me the new yearbook for my graduating seniors.

I've always prided myself on being the sort of person who can let go of anything, but now... well, I find it more than difficult to do so. I simply don't want to.

However, my feelings on the matter are immaterial.

The end is coming for the teachers as well as the students, and I'm not sure if everyone is aware of it at all. The way Japanese schools are, likely half of our teachers will transfer, and the Togi Senior High that I've come to love will be gone, vanished as surely, and as eagerly my third-year's moved on to their adult lives. I gave my students all sorts of lectures on moving on, and the different ways that people deal with graduating and growing up. I am a hypocrit.

The photos in the book are, for lack of a less cliched word, bittersweet. In the class photos, Shota is the only boy who bothers to smile. Meccho, Misa, Yuka and Hayaka join him. On the next page is the Student Council, all of them looking silly with Tetsuya in the middle, staring straight ahead with the serious face of a politician. His hair was shorter then it is now, and realize that I never knew him then. Fujii's face is as square as ever in the Basketball clubs photo, and Kyousuke is looking into the lens like a model with unwitting seduction. The Music Club, a band consisting of three clarinets, a bass clarinet, a tuba, and percussion are holding up their instruments in mock excitement. Fujita looks like he's the only one enjoying himself. On another page, stands Bill in front of a chalkboard holding a book open with his right hand, a piece of chalk in his left, and doing his usually overly enthused smile while trying to do a peace sign.

Today, I asked Okada that when she leaves if we could still be friends. She laughed, but she did not answer.

Oops, Ouch, Friends, and Dishwashers.

2008-02-24T20:28:00.001-08:00

I've discovered that in my stay here in Japan that it hardly matters where I live, as long as I have electricity and internet. That being said, there are a few things I miss.

Firstly, I miss the words "oops" and "ouch". Today, the math teacher next to me said it when he dropped his wallet, and I swooned when I heard it. I tried to tell him how happy I was to hear it, but he didn't really understand. We just talked about other words people may say when they drop something, most being curse words. I love the innocence of the word oops. The Japanese are more literal, and their best translations tend to put the blame squarely on them. The best translation is machigaita which literally means "I made a mistake". Is oops just so much better, and amenable to all sorts of situations? This also goes for "ouch", which is itai in Japanese. This word means "it hurts", and is only for physical pain. I miss people just saying "ouch" when they don't like something.

I also miss my dishwasher. The reason is agiven. It's very hard to keep a clean house if you're lazy, a notoriously clumsy cook, and don't have a dishwasher.

Lastly, I miss people I didn't think twice of back home, and I don't think any of them know who they are.

But right now, in an effort to make me less homesick for these simply things, I'm just going to make my students say "ouch" and "oops" and keep correcting them until they do. English class is all about me, after all.

It Is Imagined

2008-02-20T20:18:00.000-08:00

Apparently, my car isn't broken.

Three weeks of horrifying sounds I suffered, I finally take it in and I'm asked "why the hell did you take it in the first place?"

The noises have stopped...

Japan is indeed a mystfying place.

Japan at Random

2008-02-17T17:50:00.000-08:00

Well, I was lazy and decided not to write about some pretty big events, so enjoy the compilation.

1. Nara and Kyoto

Last weekend I went with Shan and Perry to Nara to meet up with my old friend from college, Kristi, and hung out with some deer in the snow. I left my memory card at home like an idiot, so I don't have any pictures, however, my actual memory has some pretty vivid images that I'll likely not forget.

It was snowing frenetically, dancing about the tall structures of the temple and in front of the Daibutsu. The deer, hungry and exhausted from the cold, assailed us for sustenance, which we gave warily.

Now there's a face everyone want to take home to their mother...

I keep telling myself that it's good my camera didn't work because now I have memories that no one else can share in, on a special day. Not many tourists get to see Nara in the snow, and especially not in the sort of day long storm we encountered it in.

Word to the wise: Everyone warns of how pushy the Nara deer are, and it is not a joke. However, I think you have to go to experience it. We watched a woman with a MacDonald's bag in her hand running on her high heels through the park with a herd of deer trailing behind her. We wanted to help, but we could think of nothing aside from putting ourselves in the same situation so we let be eaten alive on the pavement. Naw, I kid... Turns out if you run long enough, the deer give up.

2. Broken Car

I'm not sure what's wrong with it. I think it's likely that my bad driving has killed my car, although I am more inclined to believe that it is a conspiracy so complex profound that I cannot even begin to fathom the depths of it. Why my car?

Bill smirked and said "I told you not to buy an old car." His triumph is short-lived when I tell him that he has to take care of it. Most Japanese words for the car are in katakana so I don't suspect the vocabulary is too difficult (i,e blinker is winkaa, clutch is kurachi), but I'm thinking that perhaps the idler arm is not one of those. Bill doesn't seem to think so at least, but he doesn't strike me as the knowledgable type when it comes to cars. Not that I am, naturally, but I've been forced to listen to Car Talk on NPR for nearly all my life every Saturday because of my Dad. That does lead to some theoretical knowledge. Of course, me thinking that it's the idler arm has nothing to do with Car Talk, but instead what my Dad suspects. But, I like to pretend like I know what I'm talking about. That is, right up until that fateful moment when someone actually believes and me probes further and I flounder about as I make something up.

3. Japanese Lessons

I am officially taking Japanese lessons now, and my first lesson didn't bode well... It's my fault really. I should be at the level of class I'm taking, but I never studied Japanese in College, in light of the fact that I was a Political Science major, so now I find myself looking at things I know I should remember and wondering at what they are.

Nevertheless, I've been studying (and somewhat enjoying it), but I am worried about my next class. The teacher's switch every week, and my friend Rachel won't be going to class so it will just be me, alone, with the notoriously strict teacher. Eep! I'm working very hard to let her know that I can do it! But... dekiru kana... (I wonder if I can do it...)

I've been accosting my poor co-workers left and right, asking if my sentences using my new grammar points are right. Yosh, Ali! You can beat Rachel!

Why do I want to beat Rachel? Because she was so damn cocky the first class (it was her second). She had a whole week to study what we were doing, and I was trying to figure it out while they were talking about it. And not only that, she had Davin's old book with all of his notes and English translations. That is something that one shouldn't be cocky about... In addition to that, while I was filling out my form to take the class, she got to read the passage we were going to discuss for ten minutes. I, on the other hand, had two seconds before the teacher started to pepper me with questions.

Fukohe! (Unfair)

I'm trying not to complain, because what is done is done, but I find that venting my frustration is best. Well, that, and kicking ass next time. Ali... you are so freaking uncharitable...

Alison Danger Baumgartner

2008-02-11T05:27:00.000-08:00

I have a terrible habit of just sitting around my house on my days-off, so I decided at about one o'clock, after fruitlessly trying to get a hold of a few friends back in the States, to wander north. So, I saddled up my 1996 Toyota Corsa and turned down a perfectly safe, wide road following the signs that lead to Seikinohana. The road quickly turned into a winding path through parts of Togi that looked as if they were from the 1930s. I could find no places to pull over to take pictures, so that description shall have to suffice. The signs said that Seikinohana was only 11 km away, so I expected to be there in under 15 minutes. Unfortunately, at the Speed-Racer-like 30 km an hour the journey took much, much longer. As always, this is the problem with Japan. You may only be 1 km away from something, but the twisting geography makes it a full 4 km.

I began to become worried after thirty minutes, wondering if I were going in the correct direction. However, narrow roads being as they are, I could find no places to turn around, so I continued. But then! A sign! I had found it! But underneath that sign that wearily points in the direction I should go, is a rope with another sign that says I cannot enter. However, I didn't come there just to be turned away. I needed exercise! I needed natural beauty! My apartment has no windows that I can open (the hazards of living on the ground level only one foot off of the main road), so I needed a good stare at something beautiful.

So, I parked at an abandoned bus stop and snuck under the roped lines in between me and the scenery. The building that clearly sold omiyage (souvenirs) at one point was abandoned, with plastic models of food littered about the place, and some disturbingly old looking boxes of Camembert cheese. It looked as if a mass exodus had happened in under a few minutes and nothing important came with.

I walk around the building and realize then why the signs are up. The building is fall off of the cliff. I know I shouldn't have, but I explored further. Off to the right, I found an abandoned shrine (my pictures of it were out of focus) with its contents strewn about the place and the screen doors sideways. One supporting column lay on its side at the bottom of the stairs. I continued down this path and found that the asphalt abruptly stopped and there nothing but sheer cliff and tree roots sticking haphazardly out. Prudently, I turned back.

An abandoned food vender.

The other way proved just as daunting, but well worth the trip. Seikinohana, it turns out, is a rare sandstone formation. Unfortunately, with only my zoom lens, it was difficult for me to get any good pictures, but these were among the best:

Honestly, the whole experience was quite horrifying, yet inexplicably profound. I found myself just staring at places paths had once been, mesmorized by the transience of everything, and yet terrified of it.

When I could take no more, I ran back to my car and returned home.

The next day, I'm told that Seikinohana is famous for suicides. "Go up to the top of the hill," Fujii said, "and you will feel like someone is pushing your back." I went to that hill, and I still remember how scared I was. I thought, and still think, it was because I knew the land I was standing on was not sturdy, and the bridges likely to fall at any time. But now, I'm wondering if that truly were it.

Japan's Unappreciation

2008-02-07T17:23:00.000-08:00

I may not be a real teacher, no matter how much Bill tries to tell me I am (but I suspect it's because he wants to stop taking responsibility for my actions), but I know that teacher's are unappreciated.

The biggest hint: when the students leave, they turn off the heat in the building. We've had half-days this week, so the students return home to study while the teachers remain to "work". It's not so bad... the first hour.

The Tough Road Ahead

2008-02-04T22:06:00.001-08:00

I've just been informed that I will only have 16 students for the International Course next year, but I will unfortunately have 30 students for 1-1. This means I will only have 16 people that actually want to study English next year, and therefore only one class, but I will have two classes of 1-1 to torture me horribly.

I hear next yearis the worst disciplined class to ever come into Togi. I wonder if they are exaggerating or not.

Photographic Evidence

2008-02-03T22:47:00.000-08:00

The Aquarium at Coex

The Shamanist Temple in Seoul

The Arts district in Seoul

Email about Korea

2008-01-30T17:06:00.000-08:00

I'm too lazy to write a post about Seoul, after I have had to keep writing emails about it, so here is a ctrl+c ctrl+v of one email to a girl who is going there in the Spring:

I was only there for a few days but here are some thoughts for you (grossly inorganized, I might add).

Seoul is like what you expect Tokyo to be 20 years ago. The subway is convenient, but slightly difficult to understand. The machines only except coins, and 1,000 won bills, so if you have more, you have to go to the subway ticket counter where they get angry at you for wasting their time (well, during rush hour, at least). Sometimes the tickets don't work, and you will have to do the unthinkable and hop a gate.

There are street vendors EVERYWHERE, and you can talk down their prices with this useful phrase: gak gak jeoseo. Crap, I forgot how to say how much.... Oh well, the pronunciation is difficult, and I can tell you this weekend. I was with a Korean friend he was painstakingly teaching me the "language". She says, however, not to eat at street vendors because they are unsanitary. But then again, she also told us not be out past 8 o'clock. After she said that, it was pretty easy to write her off as a crazy and be done with it.

The East Gate has a traditional marketplace where you can buy cultural goods, although some smack of mass production. It also is home to the only Starbucks that has ever bothered to write it's name in another language. It is a popular place to take photos, and the Koreans are pretty proud of it. Around here is a shopping mall that is worth a visit if your sick of Japan's fashion, prices, and sizes. It's called Doota. Here you can also bargain, but you can't try anything on really. Jackets, and shoes are a yes. Shirts and pants are a no. The building is enormous, the prices varying, and the experience exhausting. The mall is also by Korea first attempt/successas cleaning up the enviroment. There is a pretty river where many people walk just to feel the "purity of it all". So says my friend. She ushered us passed it pretty quickly so, I didn't get to enjoy it very much.

The arts district is super awesome, but I can't remember the name at the moment.
If there is one show you should see, it's the show I didn't get to (so I'll live vicariously through you): The Donkey Show. It sounds somewhat dirty, but what it really is is a drag show about love and betrayal all done to disco music. I WISH I had gone. Oh, do I ever.

Seoul Tower is supposed to be a big place to go, but I didn't have the
courage. Buses in Korea are scary, because you often have to flag them down, and they don't do a great job of announcing their stops so there is a danger you'll miss them. However, since Seoul tower is so big, it seems likely that bus will stop there for some other tourists anyways. I'm sad I missed it.

There is supposed to be another market by the South Gate, but we didn't get to see it.

There is also a massive underground mall that is worth seeing if you want to buy pop culture goods. Also, there's a Pizza Hut (something I didn't know I missed until I saw it). There's an aquarium, a movie theater, and arcade, a bookstore with a large English book selection (honest to god, they had Derrida there), and a CD store with good prices. You have to be careful, though, because they don't give you bags. I believe you have to buy them, but I'm not exactly sure. I forgot the name, yet again, but if you're interested, I'll find it. There is a Shamanist temple, but don't go there by yourself! There are many homeless people who live along all the paths. I knew it was unworthy of me to be scared, but their eyes watching me as I passed was somewhat disturbing. It's an interesting site, if only to know that the mountain once used to be dangerous with many tigers, only now to be victim of massive urban sprawl. The sacred rocks overlook thirty-year old apartment complexes, and the day I went,
it was so smoggy that you couldn't see much of the horizon. If you're interested, I'll tell you the name. But, I must warn you! It is on the seedy side of town.

Koreans, for the most part are very friendly. They are better at communicating even with the language barrier than the Japanese, and are less afraid to talk to you.

There are some differences, however. They use metal chopsticks, which is difficult because they are slippery. You use a spoon for the rice, and you cannot shovel food in with your chopsticks. Other than that, I can't remember. Restaurants operate in much the same manner Japanese ones do, so you should be ok there. When in doubt, just point at things on the menu.

Foods you should try: bulgogi, bibimpo, I forgot the name, but it's like an egg pizza, and korean bbq.

Also, I have to share this aweseom music video I saw at the hotel:

Supermarkets

2008-01-29T02:43:00.000-08:00

Grocery shopping is not a pleasant experience in Japan. The supermarkets are dark, insidious dens that harbor the most diabolically evil music ever known to man.

If I choose to go to Rocky (the Wal-mar equivalent), I followed by this horrible midi playing its music over and over like a top 40 hit. Then, if I decide that I need meat, I am assaulted by a cheerful melody about said meat. Over, and over, and over. I have a list of things that shouldn't be sung about, and I've kept it updated over the years:

1. Jesse's Girl
2. Meat
3. The Summer of 69
4. Camp Town Races
5. Breathing

I should probably distribute this list just so things know where they stand.

So, to avoid Rocky's attempt at musical genius, I go to Dontaku. Unfortunately, it has its own theme song it likes to play. It is not background music that can be ignored with enough focus like Rocky. No, indeed, it is not. It is the word Dontaku, repeated operatically. However, I can put it as poetically as my friend Rob does, so I shall quote to you his words:

"Jesus, it makes my brain implode after about 5 minutes, and they know FULL WELL I'm going to have to walk around their aisles for at least 30. Bah."

But the absolute worst (and best) is the bad eighties songs at A-COOP and ASK, done in karaoke midi format. Classics like "Do You Really Want to Hurt Me?" and "Cars" played in the most random assortment that it makes me laugh. I have heard strange ones too. If you think "Anarchy in the UK" has no melody, try listening to it without the distortion of punk. The strangest one I've heard, however, is a song from a little known musical called "Hedwig and the Angry Inch." It took me until the end of the song to place it, and when I did, I guffawed right at the cash register.

Needless to say, that did not endear me to the cashier who thought it was weird serving a foreigner in the first place.

Togi from Afar

2008-01-26T20:39:00.001-08:00

It's snowy and -1 celsius. My brilliant idea: go out and explore with only a wool coat and a camera. My pictures did not turn out well. This is the best of the lot, which should tell you the havoc the snow was playing on my exposure.

The Earthquake

2008-01-25T19:04:00.000-08:00

4.6 Magnitude! I survived, but my dishes were not so lucky.

On the Matter of Curse Words

2008-01-23T17:48:00.000-08:00

It's not secret that I teach Shota bad words on my free time as a sort of carrot to encourage him to learn English. In return, he teaches be bad Japanese words. But, we have a unspoken promise that we won't repeat any of the words to other teachers, and indeed we have not (for the most part).

But, I have been very careful about teaching bad words to any of my other students who lack Shota's discretion, and love a secret relationship.

That is, until today. Droves of children saying shit, and all because of a quick misunderstanding!

Today, I had a Pronunciation War, where in which I face students off in an epic battle of saying words correctly. This is mostly because katakana English is barely English, and I want them to understand that saying in English words in katakana (Japanese alphabet, and subsequently pronunciation) is impossible to understand. Shirt becomes Shattsu, and scarf become mufura (muffler, which is the wrong word for the thing anyways).

So, I write "shirt" on the board.

Ryuutarou says "shattsu", and cute little Misaki, flushed with embarassment, says "shit."

I'm so surprised that they know Misaki said something bad, and they are desperate to know. I don't tell them, until Kyousuke, little Kyousuke (who is in fact pretty tall), translates "k'so." K'so is, of course, the Japanese word for shit. Great.

Ryuutarou said it in a class repeatedly, and I can't find it in me to stop him because he's using it in all the right places. Plus, that boy is on a wire when it comes to English in the first place, and I don't really want to push him off.

So, contrary to what everyone thinks, I did not make my students into potty mouths. My students did it to themselves.

The Kids (cont.)

2008-01-15T15:21:00.000-08:00

Class with 1-1 has been a painful experience from the get-go, so I will save them for last, as I can hardly remember their names.

2-2

My second year class only five students, and exceptionally small number for a class, even for Togi Highschool (although I sometimes attend a home ec class with only four students). There are four girls, and one boy, and most of them took the class because they knew that it would be an easy 30% (the passing grade in Japan).

I shall start with Miharu, my favorite in the class. In comparison to the others, I only consider her English to be the best because she tries the hardest, and she has an impeccable vocabulary. When I speak to her, it is only because she doubts herself, that she doesn't understand. Miharu is very pretty, but not popular (she is not unpopular either), and she lives in a takoyaki (octopus balls) restaurant. I have yet to visit it, although I desperately want to. I plan to embarass her completely on the occasion.

Her dream is to work with a foreign company, and I think she will once she learns how to pronounce words. She is the type to work so hard on something that she over corrects, and her pronunciation is the perfect metaphor for that. The vowels are always over exaggerated, and the the fricatives sound she's conjuring spitballs up to her teeth.

Next to Miharu is dear, shy Mike, who I dismissed as the too-cool-for-school girl a little to readily. She is dating Keisuke, a very popular boy, but it is being kept as a secret. When I mentioned it in the middle of 2-2 home, Fujii looked at me with that sort of wide-eyed expression that told me to keep it quiet. Later on, I find out that Mikei was a victim of ijime (bullying, and, in her case, through indifference), and suddenly all things fall into place. This, coupled with the fact that her father is incredibly strict and unforgiving to his girl's mediocre grades, makes Mikei incredibly withdrawn and afraid to speak up. Her sister, Anna, is the last remaining bad girl in 3-2, and the only one to not drop out. Everyday, Anna becomes increasingly unpleasant. If I spoke Japanese, I would be more comforting to dear Mike, who's home (single parent, which usually brands a child as a pariah in Japan) and school environment are not good. All I can do is try to make her happy at least in my class. Yesterday, she came to school with her hair blackened, and not the brown, presumbly rebellious color before. I said I liked it, and she just shook her head and said she hated it. Keisuke kept his mouth shut.

Keisuke, is also in my class. He does seem to like Mikei quite a bit, although she does seem far too smart for him. I often say that Keisuke has deer-in-headlights syndrome everytime I talk to him, but miracle of miracle, he's come back from Australia with amazing listening abilities! He now understands everything I say! He still can't speak for the life of him, but he understands! Whenenver I ask him how he is, the asnwer is invariably "hungry". He reminds me of my brother in highschool in that respect; thin, wiry, athletic, and eating all of the time.

The right side of the class is Remi and Miho, who are basically the same person. I tease them and call them either Mimi, or Reho. Whenever I ask what they did over the weekend, one will answer and the other just nods and says "the same, the same." So, I tease them.

Remi is a smart girl, but lazy. When I first came to Togi, Etienne left me a note that said that 2-2 was a class filled with students who "hate English only a little less than they hate math" and a girl who "is talented, but to lazy to bother", and I am always trying to figure out who this girl is. At first, I thought it was Miharu, because she was the only one mentioned in the note ("Miharu really is great, though") but now I've come to realize it is Remi. She wants to be on an international hotel's staff, where she will speak English. I try not to sneer at other people's dream, but it seems so low key for some one who can do more. My respect for her is becoming less and less the more I learn about her.

In Australia, she accused her host mother of stealing money from her. However, as the woman has had many many exchange students, and had never been accused of stealing before, I'm more inclined to believe her. Remi lied about not shopping on a day she did, and I think on that day she may have spent more than she realized. I don't think she is being malicious, but is simply believing only the truth that she sees as self-evident. Clearly, she didn't make any mistakes. I need to get her to learn how to step back and be responsible as opposed to being such a drama queen. The host mother is now suing our school for defamation of character.

I assume Remi is popular, even though I find her hair style dorky and unattractive. She is the baseball team's manager with Miho, and that usually lends one a little fame.

Miho has beautifully long hair, which she uses to hide the fact that she is sleeping. I, of course, don't let her get away with this. Her English has steadily gotten worse as time has gone by, and I wonder at how to push her. Even Australia has not improved her. She and I will have a talk if this keeps up. I do not envy her at all, since I am a strict teacher.

She is the student I know the least about, mostly because that's what she wants. See how she succeeds.

Of 2-2 home, I hope that all of them will take my class next semester, but I fear that there will only be three in it, if I'm lucky. 2-2 home is full of shy people, and my brash personality makes them feel too awkward. Ganbare! 2-2 home! Take oral class and actually learn how to speak, not just read and write!

Listening to: David Bowie Song by the Flight of the Conchords
Eating: vegetable stirfry without rice. I hate diets.
Class was: sad. I'll no longer teach 3-2 in one month's time!

Help Me! Help Me! Please Repeat After Me!

2008-01-09T22:03:00.001-08:00

Ryuutarou was, for lack of a better description, simply Ryuutarou yesterday. My friend Kaity was visiting me, so I jumped on the oppurtunity to have them listen to another English speaker. So, I had them stand up and say something interesting about themselves. If it wasn't interesting, such as "I like pizza" we asked them questions about it.

Ryuutarou is last, which is pretty typical, and he stands up only to say "I am Ryuutarou. My house I have many snowmans." (I would do well to note how immensely proud I am that he said something even this grammatically correct.)

Kaity and I look at each other in surprise, knowing full well that it has not snowed in Togi yet. I point out the window and say that it's warm, and I don't see snow. Ryuutarou, with only that small sentence, is already on English overload and feels like he's being made fun of. So, he does what any well, self-adjusted student would do, he starts to read the classroom English signs after repeating "Help me! HELP ME!" many times. "Help me! Can I got to the Nurse's Office. Repeat after me!" Laughing hysterically, I pull the signs down and tell him to sit down.

Takahiro, in the back, said, "sorry, sorry, you're stupid." I had to give up on the last five minutes of class after that.

Where in Which Ali Meets Not One, Not Two, but Three Loves of Her Life

2008-01-06T05:28:00.000-08:00

Should I ever choose to be married, it will certainly only be to one of these three men.

1. Ben Hur

Yes! His name is Ben Hur. No jokes. He speaks the sort of English that all educated Korean men do, low and perfectly metered with his errors only in emphasizing the wrong words. He's funny, and puts up with driving us to the airport (our only access point to the subway) every day. Despite his sunny disposition, he's truly only the love of my life because of his name.

2. The Honey Man

I have a video of him that I will post eventually for he was, by far, the best part of the trip. From the steady bustle of the street, we were knocked aside by a uneven "Are YOU from AMERICA?" to which we reply as we stop to see who is addressing us, "yes." Rachel Kim, of course is not, but it's easier to say yes than to explain. The voice belonged to a young man with short hair pulled back in a rather useless pony tail. "I WILL demonSTRATE." He smiled, and then takes out a lump of honey.

"It's hard!" To emphasize his point, he clunks it against the wall twice. He then puts two holes in it and begins to pull it into a circle after dipping it in flour, all the while using his curiously laconic speech that dips and shoots up like an unsecure carousel. He twists the honey circle so that it makes a figure eight. Every time he twists it, he announces how many strings he has officially made, and is joined by everyone else in the stand. He says something in Korean, translates it in to the english and everyone behind the counter yells "eight".

He twists it again.

SIXTEEN!

He twists it again.

THIRTY-TWO!

Again, and again.

"FOUR THOUSAND AND NINETY-SIX" threads of floured honey hang from his hands, and he smiles. "You can give this to ANYONE, your MOTHER, your FATHER, you brothers your SISters, Angelinie Jolie, I love Jessica Alba. ReFRIDgerATE is one month, FREEzer is three months."

Taken in by his charm, I made Kaity buy some. Sadly, he was more interested in Kaity, but likely even more interested in the sale. Nevertheless, I still love him, which is what any good salesman could hope for.

3. The Australian on the Subway

I have very little to say about him, except that he was handsome. His name is a mystery, and I secretly hoped to run into him on the streets of Seoul again. Alas, it was not in the cards. What I did learn of him was that he lived in Australia for much of his life, and he came back to Seoul to visit friends and earn some money so he can go to school.

The Road Trip On Well-Known Roads

2007-12-25T16:02:00.000-08:00

We were to go to Nagano this weekend, but it prooved impossible as most last minute ideas tend to be.

Instead, we did a road trip around the Noto peninsula. Shan and Perry came up from Komatsu, and I picked them up along with Judith and took them to Notojima Aquarium.

Judith and the Manta Ray that tried to take her life.

We showed up five minutes before closing, and stay far past our welcome by an hour. After that, we picked Craig (or Cwaig, as I call him after his name was misspelled at bowling, to which he retaliates with calling me my own misspelling, Alisor) and had yakiniku(grilled meat). Being with a vegetarian is difficult, especially in Japan, where they put fish in every sauce and seem to have a bizarre idea that bacon is not a meat. After we ordered everything that looked even vaguely vegetarian, we called it a night. That is, we called it a night once we figured out how to get home. I've driven that road a million times, and yet I get still lost. I told Bill this, and he said "of course you did. You are you."

The next day, we woke up very early, and made our way to the Mawaki ruins, which is really a man made park that stands as a memorial to the ruins that used to be there at some time. Time, and archaeologists had all but washed what was left away.

There, we met Rob, and he and Perry then proceeded to pummel each other in a deliberately choreographed fashion, leaving us three girls a little bored after wandering the park for two hours.

My deliberately dramatic shot of an epic dance-off.

Then, we went to Flatt's Bakery (owned by an Australian) and talked for about three hours. It was a wonderful thing, learning that I should not be intimidated as much as I am by Rob, and learning that Shan isn't as grumpy as she tends to pretend to be. Such casual revelations such as these are what I always hope for when uniting a group of people who don't hang out.

Next we went to Motojima Island off the tip of Suzu. It was fantastic for the 10 seconds I afforded it notice, but not nearly as fantastic as the park next to it that had zip lines and a wonderfully tall and intricate jungle gym. I actually made it to the top of it! It was an amazing feat, indeed, for one so lacking in dexterity.

Supposedly, it looks like a battleship. Shan was quite emphatic that it did not.

And then, yet again, we went home! That is, after I got lost... again. Eventually, I became so stressed out that Shan had to drive us home. Shan! She doesn't even live in the Noto! Bested in navigation by some one who looked at no map and had no idea where our starting point was. If I told Bill this, I'm sure he would say "of course. You are you!"

The next day, we went to the Wajima Morning Market. It was depressingly small, but interesting for the block of merchants that had decided to come. We were accosted by many people asking where we were from, and it was exceedingly difficult. "South Africa" I would say, and the women selling purses looked at them in surprise. "But their faces are different." After I tried to tell her about colonization, and failed miserably at it, I gave up and let her tell me how our eyes are different from the Japanese. "They are, aren't they?" was all I could say.

Listening to: Portishead
Eating: Brownies
Doing: nothing, but wanting to write well for once.

The Kids (cont)

2007-12-20T17:10:00.000-08:00

These last two weeks have been irritatedingly disjointed, with my third-years taking tests, my second-years in Australia, and only me and one other English teacher trying to teach all of the English classes when there are usually five of us! Thus, I don't have any fresh impressions to give my about my students. However, I do know my 3-2 Oral class very well, so I shouldn't have a problem describing them.

3-2オ

Tetsuya is my best student, and has achieved the level that all of the other students should after six years of English education. Actually, to be fair, he has surpassed it, so it's unfair of me to compare my other students to him. He is excellent at understanding, and he has a natural talent for grammar. It's amazing watching him talk, because you can see him really thinking about what he wants to say, yet he never pauses for a second to try and figure out how to say it. He thinks in the moment, and knows that if used the wrong form to express himself, he can change the form on the fly. He does it so effortlessly!

Tetsuya is also, aside from Meccho, the most popular kid in school. After all, he was the Baseball Club captain, and a student council member (the highest positions in the social heirarchy). I find this strange since he's not particularly handsome. His leathered face is old looking, and he has peculiar, smiling wrinkles, like he had spent his entire youth in the sun. He is probably the least vain of my all my boys, but I still catch him walking into the background to check the volume of his spiky hair. He will go to Kansai DaiGai in Osaka, and insists that he wants to learn eleven languages, Spanish being his top priority.

Next Tetsuya is the other boy in my class, and one of my absolute favorite people, Shota. His English is what it should be for a lazy, but attentive boy. He never studies, but has a knack for all things school-related. He wants to be a musician, a guitarist in particular, which is a dream that his little brother, Naoyuki, also shares. I shall miss those two the most, I think, when I leave. Shota comes after school to talk about music with me, although I'm depressed that he doesn't like Muse that much. True, I didn't give him their best CD, but I thought it would impress him a little. Next, I'm going to see how he feels about The Strokes or Franz Ferdinand (the bands who are a lot closer to my heart than Muse is).

Shota is the master of communication translation. He may not be able to use words to express himself like Tetsuya, and he may not understand everything you say, but he senses the emotions of the speaker, puts it together with the words he knows, and their gestures, and then understands what they said. However, if you were to ask him to translate, he would be unable to explain but would insist that he understood exactly what you said. I have to be careful with him, though, because he laughes when he senses I told him a joke, even though he doesn't always get it.

I found out that he talks to all the teachers after school, and that he is Bill's favorite student too. When I asked why this was, Bill simply said "because he doesn't mind saying things are bullshit. That's why none of the other kids like him." I was so surprised to find out that Shota was so unpopular! In America, his personality, and his style, would instantly shoot him into school celebrity status.

The girls are the most fun loving in 3-2 home. Meccho is the most popular girl in school, and is dating a boy from 2-1, but I am to keep that a secret. I love her, because she grins mischieviously and says "secret, secret" while pressing her fingers to her lips. She's always late, but I think it's because she likes it when I scold her for it, and it gives her a great reason to give me guff when I'm late. Meccho's English isn't the greatest, but she is the master of gestures. It's entertaining, really, what she comes up with to get her point across, when all she had to do was pay a little more attention to vocabulary.

Meccho wants to be a wedding planner when she grows up, because it makes people happy. I wanted to say "Oh really, people are happy to be married?" jokingly, but I did not want to confuse the poor girl. She wants to marry her current boyfriend and have two girls and one boy, but insists that she never wants go back to the country. I agree, she was meant for the city, Meccho is.

Next to Meccho is Misa, the dumbest, sweetest, and dirtiest girl in school. The things she comes up with in regards to sex is always funny, but a little embarassing, seeing as I am supposed to be her teacher. Misa speaks about two words in English, and one of those words is always "yes" which she always uses when I talk to her. I think it's how she stops me from talking to her further. Her family owns the Shell station next to the school, and I'm always their patron.

Ahead of Meccho is Yuki, who is hard-headed, incredibly smart, and supremely lazy. So lazy that she failed my Reading test, a test that even Misa passed! Yargh. Yuki wants to be a baker, and is apparently very good at it. Last year, she won the prefectural baking contest, which makes her the pride of the school (along with Hayaka, who won a National Speech Contest). Bill says this is because Togi never wins anything. Yuki is somewhat jaded, and Etienne tells me this is because she went to Australian and found out what real boys were like, and she has become dillusioned about Japan. He did not expound further, and I felt it inappropriate to ask.

On the right side of the class room, in the front row, is pretty little Yuka, who is insecure about herself that it actually hinders what should come naturally to her. Her father is an English teacher, so she has a lot of expectations to meet, and she's doing ok by them, I think. Unfortunately, with people like Tetsuya and Megumi (who are inordinately good), it makes her so nervous that she'll make a mistake that she inevitably does. She failed two of her entrance exams, which confuses her because she knows that she's smarter than the other students. I wonder if it's because that she thinks just enough outside of the box that she overthinks what's inside of it.

Next to Yuka is Naomi, my little hair stylist. She will go to Kanazawa next year to learn how to arrange hair. I asked her if she would learn how to cut hair, and she shook her head with a horrified expression. "No!" She wants to live in the city, and wants to get married at 30 when she'll have children. One boy, and one girl. She's a smart girl, but English is not her priority, which is a shame, because she could become fluent with just a few more years. I hope she does not forget everything she so painstakingly learned as she starts her new life.

Behind Naomi sits Megumi, who is such a strong willed girl with such a pitiable life that I love her unconditionally, even though our interests don't align in any meaningful way. She was in a car accident as a child, and therefore has to go to the hospital a lot for surgeries. Also, she is the youngest of a Buddhist temple family, and must inherit it now because all of her elder siblings choose not to take on the family tradition. Now, she must go to Kyoto and study Buddhism. She can study English too, but it's impossible for her to double major. In the future, she hopes to work with an NGO or IGO, and help the other people in the world. I love her for this too.

What is the most endearing about Megumi is her hand gestures. When I have class debates, she is always the most vocal, and she moves her hands back and forth like a rapper calling another rapper out. And every now and then, I catch her head jutting forward to emphasize her point. I find myself wanting to have more debates just to watch her get gangsta on me again.

And last, but not least, is Hayaka. Her favorite class is Japanese, and took my class only because she's lazy and has a knack for languages. She's a little upset with me because I gave her a bad grade on her last speech, which is her forte. But, in my defense, it was too short, and she read it from a paper. Also, the speech was a little hard to follow.

Hayaka is a tall, leggy girl, who feels lucky that she's so tall, yet is always hunching like her height is excessive. She's only 5'6.

I have so much more to say about this class because I have them three times a week. However, for your sake, and my wrists (which risks carpul tunnal at this moment), I will sign off.

Alison is listening to: Talk Show Host by Radiohead.
Alison is eating: weightloss soup again.
Class was: Fantastic! I love 1-2A.
Alison is doing: her plans for her Nagano trip tomorrow. Monkeys in the onsen, here I come!

My Week at Random

2007-12-18T17:32:00.000-08:00

I was trying to look pissed on purpose, but yet again, Shan beats me out for the prize. This is a picture given to me just today from Rachel Woodbrook's party. From left to right, Beth, James, Ali, Perry, and Shan.

Two things have happened since my last post--

1. A Very HAPPIE Christmas

Sunday, we had a Christmas Party for the Hakui Association for People Promoting International Exchange, and what a strange event that was. The foreigners, all Hakui people except for me, were divided so all the Japanese people could enjoy the novelty of talking to one. I mostly talked about how much I eat, and how I want to eat more. They may eat very little, but the Japanese sure do love food. I've noticed that no matter how bad their English is, they can always have a perfectly cogent conversation about lunch. There were two sketches done by the HAPPIE English classes.

One was The Algorithm March:

The whole march makes more sense at about 1:07, if ninjas ever make sense.

Owari! From left to right, Alicia, I don't know, Michiko, and David.

They also did a production of Snow White and the Dwarves. Nope, not seven. There were too many. So we were introduced to some new adjectives, like Hungry, and Stupid. I was roped in as the narrator, and I dare say, I did an excellent job.

The flash from the other camera is the fuzzy part on the picture. She made a great evil queen.

After that, we sang "Amazing Grace" (for reasons passing understanding), "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer" and "Silent Night" a la midnight mass style. I tried to keep my candle burning, but it was to no avail because it was apparently too fun for the other guests to try and blow it out.

2. Survival of The Earthquake

Yes! There was an earthquake! Mom, if you're reading this, don't freak out. I survived it with much aplomb, and my house remains standing. I woke up a minute before hand, which makes me think that I must have Earthquake Spidey sense, and then all the sudden the ground lurched foward and shook for a few seconds. By the next morning, I had sworn that it was all a dream. But when Creep-sensei asked me about it, I realized that it had in fact happened.

I have one friend who was particularly pissed that he slept through it (I'll never understand deep sleepers) because he desperately wants to feel an earthquake. Sort of a dangerous sentiment, I think, and one I was in complete agreement with until that morning. I think I should never like to feel one again.

Alison is listening to: Hairspray playing in the background of her computer.
Alison is eating: omuraisu onigiri and weightloss soup.
Class was: boring because we watched a Charlie Brown Christmas.
Alison is doing: her Christmas Lesson, and trying to figure out how much candy she can give out.

Rachel Woodbrook's Ugly Sweater and White Elephant Potluck

2007-12-15T21:03:00.000-08:00

Rachel Woodbrook, simply put, will likely remain on my list of favorite people long after we inevitably part ways. Her fashion sense, which is best described as out of the ordinary, is only a small shadow of how truly interesting she is. She held a Christmas potluck in her small apartment, and in crowded twenty five foreigners, all talking over one another in the loud American vernacular.

The present I received was this bizarre coin purse that looks like a skinned Ewok. When I said this, I was rebuffed quite emphatically.

The theme of the presents was "only in Japan" and I should think this fits the bill. This is the present I gave:

Awesome hat, and the weirdest stuff animal ever!

Alison is listening to: Pure Genius by Tweaker. Thanks Jenn!
Alison is eating: delicious grape jellies that are designed to cut appetite.
Class was: nonexistent.
Alison is doing: her novel.

The Kids (cont)

2007-12-13T20:54:00.000-08:00

It is necessary that I preface these next few entries. While this journal is to keep my friends and family apprised of my life so I don’t have to write essentially the same email over and over again, it is also here for posterity’s sake, and so that I remember. Therefore, if you tire of my descriptions, ignore all of the posts marked “The Kids”.

12-B

12-B is funny class that I enjoy equally as much as 12-A. I like this class better only because I do not have to teach it with Horiaka-sensei, a man’s who charitable nature and affable smiles make it hard for me to say that his English ability is only a little bit higher than my second year students.

I realize that perhaps it would be best that I not have favorites at all, but human nature and all that…

Naoyuki, who is Shota’s brother, is another one of my favorites. He loves music, and desperately wants to follow in his brother’s footsteps. I find it incredibly cute how he writes his signature like his brother, complete with a picture of a smiling face and a guitar with a few music notes thrown in for extra measure, and how animated he is when talking about his favorite bands. Currently, he loves Sum 41 (much to fake excitement), but his favorite band is Elle Garden, a Japanese band that sings much of its songs in English. He’s trying to learn English with these songs, which I consider fantastic intiative.

Next to him is Takuya, an uninterested kid due to social circumstances more than anything else. Being invisible is high on his list of priorities, so English, as indeed all other classes, are unimportant to him.

The loudest student is Kento, who is the typical student uninterested in school and only in socializing. He doesn’t like me very much, but I think it’s because I’m truly frustrating. He brings back memories of my volunteer senseis in my Japanese class, whom I avoided for that self same reason.

Next to Kento is silent Masahiro, and behind him is the one who competes for that prize, Saeki. Neither are as successful with being invisible as Takuya is. Saeki is too handsome to be easily forgotten, and Masahiro is far too awkward.

Ryota, who sits in the far corner pines for Sakura, and confesses to me that he hates Christmas because he doesn’t have a girlfriend. I find him humorous looking if only for his butch face and body accompanied by his very girlie hair and sense of style. He is fun-loving, but easily frustrated.

In the front of the class room is his love, Sakura, who ignores him with all the tact of a grown woman. She was in love with Etienne, from what I understand, and likes me far less because of it. She is very pretty and cute, and is among my best English speakers. Apparently, she went from the worst in the class to among the very best. She has people like Kyousuke, and Chie to compete with though.

Next to her is Misaki, the girl who is too cool for school, and yet is somehow even cooler by attending it. She’s decent at English, and has a low raspy voice that I wish I had. She looks very fashionable, but stands like a boy.

Also in the front is Takahiro, another favorite. He is loud, and loves to announce random translations. When I say “for example” and he shouts, “Ah! Tatoeba!” I say “however”, and he duly says, “ah! Shikashi!” He is a quick learner, but victim of practicing things he had learned incorrectly. However (shikashi!), I do think that his enthusiasm will translate into future success.

Yuusei, who sits next my boisterous Takahiro, is a bizarre case. His answer to “how are you?” is always “sleepy”. I can’t disagree with his assessment, because he is constantly looking at me through half-lidded eyes, as if there are more interesting dreams painted on the other side. He lets Takahiro do all the work, although he is equally talented.

I’m not familiar with the last four girls. Chie is sporty, and she doesn’t take shit from anyone. However (shikashi!)she is nice about it, which I like. Sakurako is incredibly vain, and is always checking her reflection in the TV screen. If only she knew how sickeningly pale she looked with all the cover up she uses. Behind them are Eri and Riho. Riho is a an anime fan, and seems rather embarrassed about it. Eri, on the other hand, is so reserved and quiet that I wonder if she walks on the air above us. She rarely talks, and has the worse pronunciation in the class.

Which reminds me... I think I shall have a pronunciation war. That should encourage them.

The students I want to come to 2-2 Oral class, as it is optional, are Kyousuke, Takahiro, Sakura, Misaki, Natsuko, Tadamichi, Yuki, Naoyuki, Ryota, Ryouta. My current 2-2 only has five students, which is nice, but I think more should be in the class

The Kids

2007-12-13T17:37:00.000-08:00

Students, in Japan, are divided into different homerooms that have anywhere between 20 and 40 people. Togi is so small that it only has two homerooms for each year of students. I teach only 1-1 home, 1-2 home, 2-2 Oral, and 3-2 Oral. I have made a few friends in 2-1 Home and the only 15 people large 3-1 Home.

1-2 Home has the brightest personalities, all of whom I have been actively trying to tease out. The class is divided into two, so I only see one half at a time. I find this to be a godsend because they are easier to discipline in small groups, and I'm terrified to know what they are like if they have all of their friends with them.

12-A

My best student is a boy named Kyousuke, who is mentioned in a previous post as the boy who cried. He is the most studious, and he is continually coming up to me to tell me " teach me English, teach me English." It's very endearing. With him on my side, immediately all other students fall in line. I now see why teacher's in my experience were always friends with the popular kids. I never understood it, and certainly despised it, until now.

Kyousuke is a singer and guitarist, and he desperately wants a band. For this reason, and his adoration of English, he idolizes Tetsuya, my number one best student from the third years who shares the same interests. Kyousuke has bleached blond hair, which is a very big no-no, and continually wears his shirt tails outside of his pants. He tucks them in when a teacher tells him to, but then pulls them out when the teacher walks away. I always laugh when I catch him doing this, because he doesn't know whether he should tuck them back in or not. I'm relaxed about these things (I am American after all), so I don't care either way, but his indecision is always a source of mirth for me.

Next to Kyousuke is Yuki, the only student to pass the Step Eiken (National English Test of sorts). He is quiet, and terribly embarrassed most of the time, but his English is suitably good. I always think he looks funny, with his hair carefully preened, but looking overly processed. He wants the bad boy persona so badly, but is so prone to blushing that he can't achieve it. All he can do is stand unaware in the shadow of Kyousuke, hoping that people perceive him the same glorious, shining light.

Ahead of Kyousuke is another one of my favorite students: Tadamichi. He is always trying to speak English, but forgets how to connect the few words he knows into sentences. He's always excited, and is continually in a contest against Kyousuke to see who can do better. Although he's talkative, I like him because he's usually talking about something pertinent, even if it is in an attempt to be humorous.

Ayaka is the girl in this class that I really need to reach out to. She is decent at English, and therefore is lazy about it. I sense a kindred spirit in her, so I need to encourage her now before it is too late. Her apathy will stagnate her English ability, and then she will wonder why she isn't as good as the other students and then simply give up. I refuse to let this happen, but I am having trouble reaching her. Today was the tough love approach, when I made her the first person to do the presentation. When she did it completely wrong, I sent her to the end of the line and made her listen to every one else's and then do hers again. I like Ayaka, but I fear she can easily fall to the dark side.

Ryuutarou is simultaneously a glorious joy and a fantastic pain in the ass. He is loud, horrible at English, and hard to keep focused. On top of that, he is wonderfully handsome, and completely aware of it. There is no question in my mind that he has Attention Defecit Disorder. Trying to cope with that has been difficult, but I think I've begun to perfect the method. All one needs to do is chide him, but not in a way that embarrasses him. Being offhand in one's commands is the best way to deal with him because they seem more innocuous and aren't a direct challenge to his "badass-ness". Etienne tells me that is what Ryuutarou wants to be, and I don't doubt it. His best friend is Kyousuke, which is another reason I love having Kyousuke on my side. It makes Ryuutarou have to continually re-evaluate his participation in class.

On the left is Takeshi, a bizarre Picasso of boyish and girlish characteristics. He has a square face, but wide almond eyes with long lashes. His nose is a big strong nose, but his lips are plump and pink. He also has a bad case of acne, which he tries to cover up with concealer. No one seems to notice, and he is liked well enough. I like him, naturally, because he is respectful, and makes attempts to learn. With a little push, I could make him as good as Kyousuke. Unfortunately, he is unbelievably uncompetitive, so I would never be able to use him to spark the desire to win against him in any of the other students.

The others in class are of little consequence because they make themselves that way. Ryouta is very good at English, but is horribly shy. Kenta, who has to sit next to Ryuutarou and therefore has to be his partner, is so shy that he fears listening to English will embarrass him, so he shuts down immediately. I've been drawing him out more and more lately by asking him questions I know he can answer. Takahiro is reasonably good, despite the incident where he decided to take off his shirt in the middle of class, but he and Yuta prefer to sit back and let the class pass them by. Yoshihiko is so shy and butch it's adorable. His speaking is not very good, but he understands well. I wish I knew more about him. The girls are impossible to bring out in this class. Miku rides on Ayaka's efforts (which are called so only charitably) and Akina and Misaki are clueless. They are outcasts, so I feel that is the reason behind their awkwardness in class. Natsuko and Rina are also very good at English, but prefer to be like Takahiro and Yuta.

That is the class I just taught. It was difficult because I had to do it myself, but they don't seem to mind me repeating the English many times, or my muddling through bad Japanese translations of what I wish to say.

Listening to: Creep-sensei bother the other teachers. I am therefore seriously considering putting some Scissor Sister's on.
Eating: nothing! It's not lunchtime yet!
Class was: good, so far... but who knows how the next two will be!
Doing: this blog entry clearly.

Wake Up

2007-12-11T21:52:00.000-08:00

The stories songs tell are often as dull and gray as the words that were jotted down. This song, however, has colored its story by making the music also have something to tell. The lyrics, together with the seamlessly changing melodies, and the passion of musicians creates a wonderfully bright fabric, despite the depressing thread the song takes.

Poor David Bowie. His heart attack was not kind to him. Admittedly, he looks better these days, but it's still is a tragedy to think how old he truly is, and listening to him sing this song makes my heart ache.

Listening to: The Good, the Bad, and the Queen's History Song. I'm sort of on a Damon Albarn kick these days.
Eating: a Kit Kat bar.
Class was: suitably educational.
Doing: nothing, actually.

Still Nothing To Write Home About

2007-12-09T22:50:00.000-08:00

The weekend was far from eventful. Saturday, while I had initially planned to go to the random city of Toyoma for no other reason than I've never been there before, I decided to stay home and clean. It turned out to be a pointless affair. My house is cluttered already.

Saturday was spent sleeping, and then hiking in places that I feel none shall ever know in the near future. I have mentioned Ganmon before, and many of posts surround my visits there. A small part of Togi, with not even hundred people living in it, and I find it to be the most amazing place. Every time I go, I discover something new within its depths, be it the oceanside cliffs which one must scale with utmost care, the statue of the fire god, or the caves along the ocean side. Today, I discovered the mountain trail, which I foolishly followed all the way to Sanmyo (Three Mornings). Sanmyo, unfortunately, is a town completely on the other side of the district! I had been hiking for two and half hours without noticing it! This normally would not have been a problem except for the fact that the sun sets at 4 o'clock, and it was unfortunately only an hour shy of that. Needless to say, I ran as best I could (it was a mountain, after all) and took every sign that say ganbatte (try your best!) to heart.

That sign is telling that Ganmon is 3.7 kilometers away. I shouted "Ganbatteimasu!" quite emphatically at this sign.

I made it just before a thunder storm tore across the cliff sides of Ganmon and I went home.

Sunday was spent judging little English students. With so many deserving the prize, I felt horrible that only one could win. In the end, it was a bitter argument between the three judges, all dead set on their favorites. James was the winner in the end, only because I really hated Kawabata's choices. Judging is hard, I'm sure we all agree with that. But when the levels are so similar, it is impossible to make a decision, for you know that you might be discouraging the losing students to the point that they will never try again.

The enkai (party) at the end was suitably fun after I had to explain that I really can't stomach fish. They were very surprised to find that I was eating octopus, squid and eel though.

The American eating habits, especially that of a famously picky American, confound them.

The day ended uninterestingly as it started.

Listening to: Arcade Fire's Wake Up. God bless David Bowie for opening my eyes to other bands.
Eating: nothing! I'm sooooo hungry! What shall I have tonight? Omuraisu?
Class was: suitably uninformative.
Doing: her Christmas lesson plans and failing spectacularly.

Look everyone! I'm alive!

2007-12-05T21:30:00.000-08:00

Look, I'm alive! AND COOOOOOOLD!

There isn't central heating in Japan, and it is unbelievably humid so the cold just sinks into your bones. I tried to trick the cold by wearing those bone gloves, but it was not amused.

I was going to write about the educational system, but I'm not really all that versed in it. I can only give my opinion replete with American bias. However, I can say that I never dreamed I would compliment the American system until I came here.

Today is obaa-san volleyball, and nothing sounds more awful than playing volleyball in the cold. I pray that by the end of this year I can find a sport that I can actually play, even if it has to be volleyball. But, something tells me, learning it from grandmas might not teach me how to play it very well.

The students are gone, and it is only me in the lonely teacher's office. I'm staring at the rain pound my car (which I drive only because I don't want to walk for five minutes in the freezing wet). I've never seen rain in winter, and I'm slowly learning that snow is far more preferable. At least it has the common decency to wait until you've entered a suitably warm room before it makes you wet.

In Which Alison Never Finishes What She Starts

2007-12-04T02:59:00.000-08:00

Has anyone noticed that I never finish what I start? Well, I'm going to try and not let that happen. Every time this poor blog slips into hiatus, I'm going to grab its cold, stiff body from the river of my other inane --and let's face it, not very important-- activities and give it a breath of life. At least, I hope so. I will update at least once a week.

Now, if anyone so chooses, anybody can post a comment. So Grandma, Devin, Erick, and everyone else who cares about their beloved Alison's life, you can go ahead and comment! Yay!

Anyway...

Although, technically, I was supposed to be doing something on Sunday, I found myself with nothing to do and fretting the loss of internet. So, I did what I always do in such situations, left to go wander. Assuredly, there were many other things that required being finished, but I could not be bothered to do it. When one feels the inklings of depression --hormonally induced, naturally-- one does not choose to do such saddening and vile activities such as cleaning a very dirty apartment. I long for a dishwasher, or for someone to come over every once in awhile to force me to clean.

I took my car and traveled to Nanao, which I didn't actually make it to. I became ill in Nakajima, and barring I had little to no gas left, I choose to return home. Here are some photos of the (non) adventure:

Outside of what I think is the matsuri museum.

One of the many graves that are alongside the roads. This one is the prettiest I've seen.

All of the shoudo pictures one sees of Japan look very much like this. I never believed that it existed outside their imaginations.

Class has not been good lately. I just spent the day grading tests, and subsequently failing, all of my students. Days of the week, after three years of English, should not be difficult (although, upon reflection, I realize that I never learned them in French until college... I always assumed that I was a rare case), and weather should not be either! Body parts! I taught them. They played games about them! Why is it they suddenly can't remember? I'm told not to worry, that many of these students will drop out. But, all I can wonder at is, isn't that why we should be worrying?

But, that is a can of worms for another blog, one I will go into full detail tomorrow, as I have no class and no tests to administer.

Tata for now!

Alison is listening to: her heater desperately try to warm the room, and has therefore put Phil Collin's Against All Odds on to fit the mood.
Alison is eating: some sort of soy stirfry that turned out to be tolerable, at best.
Class was: alarmingly bad.
Alison is doing: her forgotten Japanese test.

The Superfluous Photos

2007-11-27T22:40:00.000-08:00

6:30 in the morning, Hakui Station before my long journey to Nagoya. The crows were so foreboding that they nearly persuaded me to turn back.

I usually entitle this picture "Aryans in kimonos, the future is now!" but I realize it might be too esoteric for some. This was taken in the Osu district of Nagoya.

Ganmon is the town that those people are advertising. Do they look like they're having fun? Well, what if I told you that the cliffs are famous tourist stop? Suicidal tourists love to jump off of them.

This is... I actually forgot the name.. but it is just outside of Togi. It competely escaped my noticed until a few days ago.

Lunch was: karaage and garlic rice.
Class was: suitably good.
I'm listening to: Doctor Who Radio Plays. The 8th Doctor has a very sexy voice.
I'm working on: 1-1's test still.

The Nagoya Weekend

2007-11-26T18:21:00.000-08:00

So! Nagoya! I went to Nagoya, ne?

Nagoya is a very big city, and not known for being a tourist destination. However, that did not stop Kristi and I from being tourists, cameras in hand, intent on being what Ezzie calls "happy snappy".

The first day was a little scary if only because the bus tried to drop me off at some random bus stop in the middle of nowhere. I begged, and pleaded, and managed to get to my real destination: Nagoya Eki, the busiest place I had ever seen. It's not a secret that I don't do well with crowds, so being in Nagoya was, indeed, a very trying experience. The rest of the day was spent learning how to use the subway system (people are right, once you get used to it, it's really easy), and looking for a place to have dinner. We chose Outback Steakhouse. It's funny, in the States, I never liked the place, yet here in Japan, it was surprisingly tasty. Go figure.

Saturday was far more eventful.

Kristi and I made our way to the Tokugawa Art Museum, which was surprisingly less interesting than the garden that was right next to it. However, it was entertaining enough to see the recreations of artwork whose colors faded long ago, even if they looked like they were painted by an amateur. Photos were prohibited, which is a shame, because there was an awesome map that had landmarks facing any which direction. I would loved to have walked into that word, walk through a forest and then on top of it has it flipped to face the South, swim the river with th

I forgot my camera, so here's a picture I took on Kristi's camera of the garden.

Check out how symbolic I am. Nature and modernity.

Too cool of a shot to miss. The koi were phenomenally large, and therefore a little disconcerting. I spent most of my time looking at them accessing my memory banks for any koi related deaths.

I have more photos that I will post later. On the way to the Asuta shrine, we stumbled upon a placed called the OZ Mall. On every radiator (called so only because they looked it), there was a statue portraying a scene from the wizard of OZ. Why? I haven't the faintest idea. The shops had nothing to do with OZ, which was somewhat upsetting because I wanted to buy some emerald glasses. If you want to see all of the statues, just email me.

I'm not sure why my face is so sour looking, but clearly that danish roll I was currently eating was vile.

Next, we went to the Atsuta Shrine, which we walked the entire length around before we could find the entrance, only to find that if we had just turned the right at the beginning, instead of left, we would have found it within three steps. I have no pictures, unfortunately, but I'll describe it the best I can.

There were three weddings being held. Two were traditional, with the bride sitting demurely under the hat that supposedly hides her horns, and the other western, with the bride smiling brightly. The guests were all dressed in somber blacks.

Also, there were women presenting their babies on the second month after their births, smiling happily for the camera while their husbands stood by, looking impatiently at their watches. They, and the brides, stood out amongst the cold steely gradients of people who swirled around them.

While I was there, I did the proper tourist-y thing and bought some charms. One will protect me from evil, supposing that I didn't lift its protection when I curiously looked inside the bag to see if they had actually written a charm, and another one that was marked "charm for news." I'm not exactly sure what that means, but armed with the knowledge that that they wouldn't sell anything extremely bad, I threw caution to the wind and bought it. After that, we went to Sakae and wandered around. I found a copy of Horatio Hornblower at the foreign bookstore, but could not get myself to spend 20 dollars on it when I know I could get it at a used bookstore when I go home.

While we were looking for a restaurant, we stumbled upon this creature. Cool as he was, he did not successfully entice us into the his restaurant.

Sunday, my last day, we went to Osu Shopping District, which is right next to Osu Kannon, a Buddhist temple. Like a good tourist, I bought a bull charm since I was born in the year of the bull. As always, it did not look as cool as the other charms, but I decided that no bull charm will ever look as good as the others. A bull simply cannot be a rabbit, a rat, a tiger, a sheep, or a dragon. I have to accept my Chinese zodiac as is, I realize. I wondered, and still wonder now, which charm sells the most.

You could smell this temple for miles, the incense was so strong.

Right next to this is the shopping mall. It's really quite a nonsequitur. The shopping was the most enjoyable of all the shopping I've done in Japan. Also, it was the best food I had eaten, which was entirely too much. I had karaage (fried chicken), okonomiyaki (a sort of egg, cabbage pizza), a cheese soufle, a vanilla milkshake and french fries, and takoyaki (a sort of octopus dumpling that is DELICIOUS!). Wow! And I was full after the karaage!

In Japanese, the word betsubara means second stomach. It's said when you will still eat something even if you're full. For example, amaimono no betsubara means you have a second stomach for sweet things. No matter how full you are, you will still eat some sweet things. The people at the office joke that I have tabemono bestubara which means I have a second stomach for food. Funny, but a little cruel, I think.

After Osu, I went home after a four-hour bus ride, an hour train ride, and an hour car ride. I fell asleep long before I knew that I had even gotten into bed.

Lunch was: Chicken Fried Rice and Anpan
Class was: so-so.
I'm listening to: King of Pain by The Police
I'm working on: 1-1's listening test.

To Nagoya!

2007-11-21T17:54:00.000-08:00

Sickness comes at the most incovenient of times, does it not?

Currently, I am horribly sick, but I have already purchased my tickets to go to Nagoya, and reserved my hotel room, so nothing will stop me from going! I am, however, going to be forced to purchase one a surgical mask as I will be riding a bus for four hours. It would not be fair for me to give all of those passengers this sickness, but I'm going to feel ridiculous wearing one of those masks.

I'm not sure what I'll be doing this weekend, but I hope that I will be well enough to enjoy it.

The Tragedy!

2007-11-14T03:20:00.000-08:00

I completely forgot to celebrate the Battle of Trafalgar this year! How could I forget! It's nearly a month past, so no belated festivity is possible now. I shall have to wait until next year, or find something else that is suitably obscure to celebrate. When was the Battle of the Light Brigade? I suspect that is also October...

Tomorrow was the birthday of Prime Minister William Pitt the Elder. Maybe that would be fun.

Japan's Hidden Scenery

2007-11-10T02:11:00.001-08:00

Two sumo wrestlers at the Hakui matsuri.

This photo is long overdue. It the only that is completely embarrassing in composition and lighting. I still have not succeeded in discovering how to shoot in the nighttime.

This is from the Sumo competition at the Hakui matsuri. I took Rachel, and we met Tom there. To my surprise, many other JETs were also there. I remember very little of the night, except that I ate entirely too much, and I missed the last sumo match, which apparently was rigged.

And now the present. Having finished the last episode of Horatio Hornblower, whose absence of new episodes now leaves an inexplicable hole in my heart, I decided to go and explore Togi. This of course means danger like never you knew! I should never have brought my camera, it made my life so much harder.

To get to this beautiful place, I had to climb many a cliff. In fact, that cliff right pictured right there was among them. Never had I felt so keen of acrophobia until today, but I mastered it by exercising the caution that I typically do not bother to use.

The coast of Togi, and a very steep cliff that I had to climb down, and subsequently up again.

All over Togi are parks that are hidden behind the indeterminably thick forests of bamboo mixed with pines, and all manners of bushes. They come out of nowhere, and are always serene and somewhat lonely. This shot was taken before one actually moves beyond the bush to see the clearing. It was taken to demonstrate how surprising these park's presence truly is.

An unnamed clearing a little north of Ganmon.

I did more, but I lack the energy to tell of it. Tomorrow, when I wake up I shall post more photographs. For now, I hope you enjoy.

Water Heaters and Volleyball

2007-11-08T20:06:00.000-08:00

It happened Tuesday night. I was cold, and in desperate need for warmth. Armed with the brilliant idea of taking a bath, I stepped into the icy cool of my bathroom, intent on drawing one. When it was filled up, I shed my clothes, and stepped into the water that must have been a degree above freezing.

My water heater was broken, and it was winter.

Was I going to cry? No. Did I want to? Not yet, but I knew that it would soon become a likely outcome.

So the next day, I tell my supervisor, who calls my landlady. It turns out that the water heater is an oil burning heater, and it was simply out of oil. Praise be togod! Two days later, the warm water returned. No more showers at Nick's house. No more mornings of feeling cold, and staying cold. Life is, officially, ok again.

Last night, I went to the Obaa-san (grandmother) Volleyball game. There were very excited to have me, but curious to why I didn't play. I forgot the word for clothes, so I couldn't explain that jeans and a sweater were hardly athletic clothing. Also, Volleyball and I, just simply don't get along. It hurts the arms, and more importantly, it incapcitates ankles very easily. So, instead I watched, which is something I enjoy doing. I did not bring my camera because I thought it might make them uncomfortable. But, I think next time I think I will.

More Boring Information

2007-11-02T19:19:00.001-07:00

It is Saturday, and I am at work. As my own personal revenge, I have decided to not actually work on my down time and write this blog entry instead.

Currently, my students are learning weather, and rather fortituitously, I should add. The weather in Japan has been hodge podge lately, so every day I ask "How's the weather?" they are forced to say a different answer.

Life has finally become familiar in Japan, and I feel like I am at home. I miss some things, naturally, like dogs, being able to understand most words that come out of peoples mouths, and macoroni and cheese, but, in general, I like it here.

Of course, this is ignoring the fact that all stores close here at the annoyingly early hour of seven, so one must get one's grocery shopping done during the peak hour of six o'clock. Yet, the convenience store is open 24 hours. I wouldn't need that convenience if stores stayed open until nine, quite frankly. Consequently, after seven, Togi becomes silent. Everyone retreats to their houses, and stay there as they have no excuse to leave it.

I'm discovering that I miss people that I never thought I would miss, but am fine with other's "absence" in my life. It is an eerie feeling.

Today, in any case, I will be going to Hakui to visit Travis who is working the International Fair. What will happen, I have no idea, but I'm sure we will have fun.

A Short Update to Confirm that I am still Alive

2007-10-26T21:03:00.000-07:00

Life in Togi has been without adventure. I got my new computer last Saturday, and have spending my time fighting it since then. When one is accustomed to a certain system, it's always hard to adjust. Unfortunately, I was not as young and spry as I had originally thought myself to be, and I find myself staring blankly at Window VISTA, wondering at it's complexity.

I will, however, go on a walk today, in search of adventure. However, roads in Togi are pretty dangerous, so I'm trying to decide which is the safest place to walk to.

The Month of Hiatus is Nearly at an End

2007-10-16T23:10:00.000-07:00

In one day, my life in Japan was changed dramatically, and I was reduced to a hermitage that is reserved only for those who seek such a life. Their reasons, as usual, passing any comprehensible understanding.

I finally got the internet. Three glory-filled days of it was all I was allowed to taste when fate cruelly knocked my computer off of the table. Blaming myself for the accident is too much to bear, so deflecting is the best thing I can do in order to survive this month of undending despair. That same day, I recieved an email that told me that my dog had died.

Bentley was a good boy. I have lost all of my pictures of him, but I will describe him the best I can. He was a gigantic yellow lab, with a mammoth head, and long, dangling jowels. Most importantly, he was stupid. His ignorance granted him an air of amiability, as if he were incapable of such a complex emotion as hate. He was always excitable, and loved to have anyone pay attention to him. That being said, he did have favorites, and I am proud to have been one of them, although I had originally hated the poor thing when I had first met him years before.

The unthinkable happened. My big, friendly dog attacked my brother's girlfriend. They say it was a brain tumour, and it triggered something in his brain. She only survives because Corbyn, the puppy that had always been by Bentely's side, defended her. Animal control was called, and Bentely became no more.

I have a weak constitution for grief, so I visited the bathroom many times in an ill vieled effort to hide my emotional side. Most thought I went there for the shallow reason of my computer breaking. I could not bring myself to correct them.

I find that exercise in these situations is the best way to release all which is pent up inside. So, in order to blow off steam, I go to the volleyball club's practice. Promptly, I sprained my ankle in under eight minutes of play. I could not drive anywhere, I could not walk anywhere. I spent three days in an apartment watching Japanese television and reading the same book over and over again.

Monday came like a breath of fresh air, which assuredly, it rarely ever does.

After that, I have been inflicting my self on all walks of life, preying on their kindness as a means to entertain myself. I visited the Ninja Temple with Majeed, went to a birthday party I don't actually think I was invited too, and call people up nearly every day to see if they will allay some of my boredom. Rachel is the usual victim, and she finds herself being asked to come over nearly every day, at every hour. She is one of the fortunate who has many excuses for she is very popular.

I know that I should be productive in these idle hours, but I find it difficult to have a desire to write without the speed and alacrity that a computer provides. However, I have decided to endeavor to at least write a short story by hand, and keep working even if the self same hand protests.

Expect updates. My new computer will shortly arrive, I'm sure.

2007-09-19T23:39:00.000-07:00

Sunday was the day reserved for Kagaonsen. I went with Alessandro, Tammy, and Andrew. I was very nervous about the day because I was convinced that Alessandro was hitting on me, but I’m not exactly sure if that is the case anymore. Tammy was very nice, and took some photos for me. Her boyfriend was also very nice, but a little quiet. How they felt about me, however, I cannot rightly say.

From left to right: Ali, Alessandro, Andrew

I’m not even sure how I got to Kanazawa, but I feel quite proud that I did. The entire event was completely from the seat of my pants. At first, I thought I was

going to take a bus, but I could not find the damn bus schedule for the life of me. It is as if the existence of Togi’s bus station is so tentative that it does not take any great pains to assert itself. It is almost as if it were a lone bus station, where buses come and leave for no readily discernable reason. Instead, I drove to Hakui Station, where the train comes. Then, in very bad Japanese, I got a train ticket. The train, while it cost about ten dollars, was faster than taking my car! Needless to say, I was quite impressed with it.

Then, at Kanazawa Station, I met Alessandro, went shopping for birthday presents, and lost my phone. Of course, I had not realized that I lost it until we were on the other side of the gate. So, I just shrugged it off because that’s what I always do, and resolved to forget about it until after we came back.

Kagaonsen is home to a gigantic golden statue that loomed over the train. I am told that the people of the town hate it, but can nothing about it because it is privately owned. It reminds me of dad’s antenna that we used to have in Meadow Station. The only difference is that when the neighbors complained, we were forced to take it down.

From the train station, the view of the statue.

We went to this beautiful temple. Words do not describe it's beauty, and photos cannot full capture it, however:

Ali Complains it All

2007-09-19T22:55:00.000-07:00

My weekend was eventful, and this weekend looks to be shaping up to be the same.

The first adventure was all because I wanted to be able to walk around my house in my underwear. However, I did not have curtains, and living in the center of town, I felt it prudent to keep my skin concealed. Changing clothes was always a hassle too for I always had to go to the one spot where no one could peer into, which also happened to be in an uncomfortable corner by my china cabinet. So, I decided on Friday to go to Tsubata and get the curtains Joe was trying to get rid of. In the process, I thought I’d visit Travis, a boy I was instantly fond of since the moment I talked to him on the phone.

It was a rather blasé night, which are always my favorite kinds of nights. We went to a yakitori (grilled meat on a stick) place and had a few drinks. Naturally, I didn’t, but that is because I’m always the designated driver, and I absolutely hate the taste of alcohol. Mostly, the four of us talked about what a ladies man Joe is, and argued about whether or not the law should be used to protect French culture in Quebec. Much to the dismay of the proprietor, we stayed for an hour past closing. Being a waitress in a past life, I was very embarrassed to have done so. I always hated people who stayed for too long when I wanted to go home.

I drove Joe and Hide (a Japanese guy who is nice, but comes off little creepy in a “it puts on the lotion on the skin” sort of way) back home, and then made my way back on the silent roads to Togi. At two o’clock, I laid my weary head to rest.

At eight o’clock, I was forced to wake up to go to a charity event in Monzen organized by the infamous Kojima-sensei.

There is no one I hate more than Kojima-sensei. He is always talking to me, and asking if I understand English words, which I always have to shake my head and say no to because his pronunciation is so bad. Then, he announces to the whole office that the stupid American girl doesn’t know her own language. “What a bad vocabulary.” Unable to take it, I finally stood up and told him I can’t understand him because his pronunciation is so bad. Although I was very angry, I realized that I got some perverse pleasure in telling people off in Japanese. When I was finished, he proved to be slightly embarrassed, but undeterred. He still talks to me everyday.

Kojima’s vocabulary is very good, but his grammar is very bad. Therefore, he only can say words, but cannot connect them together in any coherent manner. This, with the fact that I have no earthly idea what he’s trying to say makes it a frustrating and irritating time. Fortunately, everyone in the office is worried about me and they have started to take steps for my protection from the horrific presence of Kojima.

Fujita, my desk mate, asks me random, important-sounding, questions whenever Kojima solicits me to translate impossible hard phrases into Japanese. He also lets me ask him random, important-sounding, questions if he’s passing by. Fujii has lent me his desk, which he often refers to as heaven, on my off periods. He calls it heaven because no one can see it, and he can pretty much do whatever he likes. His desk is the envy of all the teachers, and I desperately want it now as well. Lastly, Bill lets me hang out in his office during morning and afternoon Kojima sneak attacks, when I am not expecting him.

Let it be known that I am not nearly so cruel that I would hate a man for just practicing his English. There are many other reasons. He, for example, is a sexist bastard. With great relish, he tells me that women are the number one worst drivers, and that drunk drivers are second. I would normally take it as a joke, except I know that he doesn’t understand the concept of sarcasm. Also, he insists that it is a kotowaze (ancient Japanese proverb), which means he believes in the acumen of such a phrase.

The problem is that I can never say no. Never. It’s impossible for me. And if it the event is volunteer work in an earthquake stricken area, I certainly can’t say no. He asked me about it all week, and tried to explain what I was going to do, but refused to do in Japanese. So, up until that point, all I knew that I was going to Monzen at 9:00.

I arrived where I am supposed to, by the grace of god more than any real idea of where I was going, and I find there are two old men sitting in the room I am ushered into, with some middle school students fidgeting nervously in their chairs. I try to speak Japanese, but they look at me as if I were sputtering nonsense. I think they understood more than they let on, but I certainly was not talking in tongues, in any case. Finally, they are joined by two old ladies. Mind you, I still had no idea was going on.

Then, the middle school students and their teacher start to sing. It was quite beautiful, although I still did not understand what was happening. After twenty minutes, Kojima brings me up to the front and has me say stupid jokes like “this snake is very heavy.” The joke is because the Japanese cannot pronounce the word heavy, so they pronounce it hebi, which means snake. Then, he sends me away, and starts to perform magic that even a sixth grader could figure out. It was then that I realized that the Elderly appreciation day was on Monday, so we were there to cheer up the elderly who were affected by the earthquake. Instead, however, I think Kojima patronized them as if they children. I was so embarrassed I could hardly look at anyone.

I left early. Although I toyed with the idea of bothering my supervisor at work because I was bored, I went home and proceeded to sleep for a few blissful hours. I was too lazy to cook, so I only ate snack food and coke, which was probably not a good idea since my throat had been hurting for days, and I was likely coming down with something.

Then, I went to Nakajima, not after being accosted by Aki (Ishihara-san’s daughter), which made me late. What made me even more late was that I went the wrong way on 249. Then, I went the right way, but ended up driving around Nakajima for twenty minutes looking for the damn theater. The drama of the previous post started that Saturday night.

Used

2007-09-18T18:58:00.000-07:00

I'm being used, and I hate it. What I hate more is that I'm sure enough that I actually am able to confront the problem like I want to. If only I had the courage to cut through the bullshit red tape that strangles relationships. I like to fancy myself as someone who can read people easily, but I have been out of my element here in Japan (likely due to cultural differences), if even I had a element to begin with.

In any case, it is no secret that Okayama-sensei likes my supervisor. However, whether he likes her not remains to be a mystery. "And, what is the problem?" you ask. The problem is that she is getting chummy with me specifically to get closer to him. I really should not be complaining, because now she invites me up for strawberry JELL-O, to go to plays, and really wants me to join her Home Ec class. I love food, so I can't turn that down.

Yes, the problem isn't evident. But let me explain last weekend:

Last weekend (which will be elaborated on further in the next post) was the weekend of the play that Okayama-sensei invited me to. Bill was also going, so I ask him to make sure I don't forget to ask for directions before I leave work. Instead, he comes by and says that we'll just meet here in Togi because he has to work anyways, and he'll drive me it to the play. I hate driving the road towards Nakajima, so I'm quite glad of this turn of events.

However, Saturday rolls around, and he finds out that he has to go to Tokyo to accompany a student at a speech contest. Matsuura-sensei, who was supposed to be with her, had to return home because he is a priest, as well as a teacher, and someone had died. So, I'm given directions (which were very bad, I might add), and bid good luck.

I was twenty minutes late after driving the same stretch of road nearly forty hundred times. The frustrating part was that the theater was only a few blocks away from where I was! Thank god the conbini where I asked for directions at was not closed.

The play was funny, but I only understood a little of it. I wish I could better understand polite forms. In any case, I had to leave very quickly because I was illegally parked, so I think Okayama-sensei is doubtful that I even went. I tried to drop enough names so that she could know that I did see it. Whether that was sucessful or not, I'm not sure.

Where is the drama, aside from the play, then? She comes down specifically to tell me it was a date with Bill. At first I thought she was insinuating that it was supposed to be a date for him and me, which makes me say no a few times. Then I realize what she is talking about, and tell her how sorry I am. "Shikatta ga nai" (it can't be helped) she said, although the tone of her voice indicated that clearly that she felt the opposite.

This is where I feel particularly used. If this was truely a date with Bill, then why would he take me in his car, and fail to mention to me that it was a date with Okayama? Furthermore, if he took me, I would naturally assume I would get to sit next to him and hang out. That would make a date fairly awkward, now, wouldn't it? And there I would be, sitting like Shusaka Endo's Obakasan, completely unaware of it the damper I put on the evening.

It is the most bizarre feeling, being used by one to get closer to the other, and being used by that self same other to put up a barrier against the one. I'm pissed off enough that I decided to not talk to either of them, like a child. However, so far, the plan has not suceeded.

Nothing to Write Home About

2007-09-12T23:13:00.000-07:00

I am very behind, yet I have many tales to tell. None so interesting that I will give them the lengthy description that I usually do. I need to stop trying to make adventures out of mere bus trips, I realize.

I went to Suzu again two weeks ago, and that was nearly the same experience as the last time. Not realizing just how far out of the way I was, Travis, from Kahoku, picked me up so I could go to the party. He thought I lived in Shika-machi, which is technically true, but found I lived a full thirty-minutes further than that. What made matters worse was that as we tried to journey to Suzu, we ended up taking back country roads.

When I say back country roads, I'm sure the image of dirt roads in the middle of nowhere comes to mind. However, in Japan, the imagery is altogether haunting. Travis and I were beginning to wonder if there were such things as Japanese rednecks who attack cars and scratch their belly while chewing out the words, "I want the one with the beard. He's perdy." We also began to speculate that there were likely Children of the Rice, an equivalent to our Children of the Corn. Back roads in Japan are horrible, twisting rollercoaster rides that are wide enough for only one car to pass. Couple this with zero visibility due to sheer height of the trees that line the road, it is, indeed, a hair-raising experience. Everynow and then, we pass through a town that was only three or four houses long with one lone vending machine seeming to be the only thing to illuminate the place. Just as we left one town was when we met our first car, and then promptly tried not to meet it so completely that we would be two cars smashed into one bizarre mess.

By the end of the trip, Travis was shaking with adrenaline. When we finally reached a major road, he stopped the car, opened the door, and then proceeded to dance around it. Then, without a word, he buckled up and sped off down the road towards Suzu.

The party itself was okay. I drank very little, fell asleep, and hitched a ride back to Togi with Davin. There were two memorable moments: Damo peeing himself, and the JTE of Suzu's High school falling off his chair, mid-snore, and then puking in the sink.

A few days later, I realized that I was absolutely sick of cooking for myself. So, I dropped by Nick's house, banged on his door loudly, demanding that he put pants on and go to dinner. The food was delicious, if not a little expensive, and I found out how to order a pint of beer. I regaled, or more likely, bored, Nick with tales of Togi. One of which was the world's ex-longest bench. Until that day, I had not found it. Together, we struck out, and it turned out to be exactly where I thought it was, and yet, the last place I would have looked. In general, I'm never right about that sort of thing.

There is something romantic about the bench not being the world's longest, but the ex-longest bench. At one point, the bench, of which I walked the entire length, used to be pristine and loved. It was the only that gave Togi any claim to fame. Now, it barely supported my weight in places, and half of it is ill-kept with grass growing through the slats. What it was before was nothing special (as if they built it, and realized, "hey, this bench is pretty long"), but now it is only an artifact of something that was nothing that special.

My last adventure was to Nanao. One day after I recieved my car, I decided to adventure to the faraway place to visit my friend Judith and to eat at the Fish and Chips place. It was fun, but nothing to write home about (although it is clear that I invariably am). I bought a futon, some new clothes, notebooks, and some CDs. The Fish and Chips place was closed because there was a dance concert of traditional dance and modern dance fusion. My camera, and my ability to shoot at night, did not give these dances justice:

I love life sometimes.

The Crazies (cont) Sport's Day

2007-09-07T00:34:00.000-07:00

Today was Sport's Day, an event that the teacher's seem less than interested in. There boredom is written as clearly on their face as if I had taken a marker and wrote it there for them. Of course, on the list of disinterested sensei's, Bill tops the list. We get lunch together, and he makes sure to drive all the way back to school, as if he wants to avoid all the noise and rabble rousing. I didn't mind, mostly because he gave me a delicious tofu snack that tastes like pudding.

No one told me what was happening today, so all the sudden I look up from my computer at the Home Ec teacher, who points out the window. "Sanka suru? (Are you joining them?)" she asks. To my horror, I see teacher's leaving in droves, and students mounting the stairs of a bus. "Where?" I ask, frightened, wandering with my eyes rolling around the office. Just as they turn off the lights in the teacher's office, I grab Fujii. He says he'll take me with him, but to where, he does not elaborate. Again, I ask "where?!" There is no reply. I'm starting to wonder if it is some convaluted plan to kidnap me. Then I remember that I'm not worth anything, and quickly dismiss the idea that festers in the romantic synapses of my mind. Instead, I end up at the community gym, alive and whole, andsurprisingly enough, not held for ransom.

I always hear these fascinating stories about Sport's Days, and how there bizarreness has confounded many a foreigner. For my part, everything made sense. They played Tug o War (which I participated in), played mass jump rope, and did three-legged races. The only race that was slightly out of the ordinary was the race that required the students to spin around a baseball bat ten times, then dizzily make their way to a pan of flour where they had to pick a piece of candy out with their teach. Then, with their faces ghostlike, and somewhat creepy, they get a piece of paper that says what their partner should be like. They then have to find a partner, tie their legs together, and then make it to the finish line. It was altogether very interesting.

I have not yet had chance to talk about Fujita-sensei, and although I spoke to him little today, I think a description is in order.

Fujita sits next to me in the office, and is the head of the first year class, second homeroom. Apparently, he was very good friends with Etienne, and it makes me a little sad that I haven't yet achieved that status. I do my default of doing stupid things around him so he thinks that I'm not scary. My plan hasn't suceeded yet. MyMr. Bill told me today, with great relish, that I scared the crap out of him initially, and joked that I made him pee his pants. "You're an awkward person, aren't you?" I respond.

Fujita is very good friends with Fujii, and completes the "cool trio" of teachers (Okada, Fujii, Fujita). When I told him my brother's age, he became very excited because it was the same as him. Since my brother isn't always the most mature person, I found it odd to be in an office setting with a twenty-six year old. I mean, surely, that's not grown up enough, right?

Who Fujita is would make a great story in a novel, if he already has not been. He is a math teacher who he says he likes the incomprehensible subject because the order of it all is simply beautiful. This order he loves so greatly is put into practice by leading the brass band after school. I find that I admire him for being so mathematical, yet inspired.

This is not enough to make him a character worthy enough to write about, although I think that it is intriguing at the very least. What I find so interesting is that he enters all purchases so he knows his finances down to the single yen. He even enters in a 100 yen purchase of a bottled water into his excel document. I had never thought such anal behavior from such a seemingly normal person could exist! He also has three cellphones, one for each Japanese company (au, Softbank, DoCoMo), with a compartmentalized purpose. Such extremes are only reserved for fictional characters, yet here he is, existing in the real world, existing in the same office, existing in the chair next to me. I wonder if he wonders at my existance. How could such a messy girl exist? I never keep track of my money, and my desk is a trove of papers which I must excavate before every class to find the necessary worksheets. Surely, no one could be as messy as I.

I feel as if ying and yang.

The Crazies (cont.) At the School Festival!

2007-09-05T23:46:00.000-07:00

The school festival is today, and I must say that it is a bit bewildering. How a festival works is so ingrained in their society that they don't even think they have to explain it to a foreigner. It makes sense, naturally. Silly foreigner.

I ate entirely too much delicious food. The yakisoba was the best I had ever tasted, and the karaage was wonderfully fatty. I had two doughnuts that were beyond tasty, and rivaled that of an American doughnut. Until now, I was under the mistaken impression that nothing could outdo the glorious taste of an American doughnut, but I was wrong. So very wrong! They dissolved in my mouth like a precious nectar, and like that, the taste was gone and I was left wondering at its glory. Would I ever taste anything so heavenly again? I decided not to buy a second box, in honor of the first box's memory (and also because I did not want to completely betray my diet).

I met who I think is Fujii's girlfriend today. Her english was not very good, but I finally understood that we were going to go see a drag show. A drag show? I thought incredulously. Surely the Japanese are far too uptight for that. As I walked to the gym, I saw three of my students, who were, by the way, the most masculine in my third year, looking like bizarre Picasso's of a girl.

"Tetsuya?" I asked, my confusion painted on my face as prominently as his lipstick and mascara.

The boy snickered, and nodded. "Aren't I beautiful?"

The were paraded on stage, asked their favorite type of man, and what kind of date they would go on. Strangely, the boys were brave enough to down the clothing of the other sex, yet not brave enough to answer the questions into the microphone. Then five girls were asked to go up and stage and give a banana to their favorite girl. Most of the boys thanked them for their prize, but others were more creative.

"I'm so happy." One's rich baritone says, clearly making fun of the typical girl in a drama.

The other, I could not understand, but his prepubescent crack in his falsely emotional voice led me to believe he was trying to be funny. Everyone laughed at him, in any case.

After that, I watched the bands and karoake, where I got to know a little more about Okada-sensei.

Initially, I did not sit next to her, but instead gradually drifted over to her sit by sit because I kept wanting to say some innocuous comment, and hated that there was no one to listen to me. We talked about how the singer was really bad. Then Okada-sensei, being the nice girl that she is, said that maybe, the stereo was broken. The guitarist, Shota, on the other hand, was excellent, and I wished that he wasn't stuck with clearly second rate players. The next band that played was all about drama. One of the actual members could not preform because his hair was too long, and he had dyed it, which is an awful big no-no, even at a low academic school like Togi. The crowd cried "Kyousuke! Kyousuke!". He came out, with tears in his eyes, and thanked them for coming, and expressed how much he wished he could be performing with his band. I had never seen anyone so emotional but something that was clearly their fault. I may not agree with the strictness of the rules of appearance in Japan, but the boy knew the consequences. Perhaps his tears were the tears of someone trying to be free, but feeling the constriction of society's bars press up against his chest he reached out for the sky.

Okada-sensei is very kind, I realize. I told her that follow her like a puppy, and she laughs at the idea, but lets me follow her anyways. In my heart of hearts, I know I'm seriously taking down her cool points, but then again, I've made it my mission make her english better. I already think it has improved leaps and bounds since I have come. I'm embarassed to say this, but I seem to think it to be a better idea to teach the English teacher's English, rather than the students.

I wish I could describe her properly, but I know very little about her. I know that she leaves close to the drummer of one of the bands that performed today, and that she learned the trick of fanning two people at once from her ex-boyfriend. This trick was much appreciated by me today, as I kept forgetting my damn fan. In America, one usually thinks that fans are useless. But here in Japan, I have learned that their usefulness is so great that it is nearly ineffable.

I hope that after today, I have endeared myself a little more to Okada-sensei. It sounds very dorky to say it, but I hope that we become friends.

The Crazies (cont.)

2007-09-02T16:36:00.000-07:00

On friday, at about three o'clock, Fujii-sensei and Okada-sensei approach me, asking if I know how to play Monopoly. It tell them yes, but they won't believe how long it takes, so we play against my better judgement (I needed to leave for a party at five). Two hours later, I am fully aware of how only an American could come up with such a complicated game of finance and deception and think that it is an easy game. All the little rules that I just knew, such as how to get out of jail, and what Free Parking was were something that I just thought everyone innately knew. It never occured to me that I would have to explain so many small details. After two hours, they ask me how long the game takes. I told them I've had them last up until six hours. Their eyes dart about nervously, and I tell them that we can stop and play it again another time. Relieved, they start putting it away with the sort of expression that tells me that they never want to play that game again. I wonder what Americans find fun about the game, and why I like it so much.

I found that I really like these two.

Fujii, who I often call Fuji-san (Mount Fuji) on accident, is awesome. Most of what I know about him is told to me by Bill, but when I confronted him with the information, he confirmed it. It is important to note, that while I did not state it before, my initial impression of Fujii was that he was a dumb jock that choose to teach English because he did not know what else to do with his life. It seems, however, that I was wrong.

Fujii lives thirty minutes away in a town called Rokusei, where he happily informs me, there is a McDonald's. In his house is a billiard's table. I accuse him of being a pool shark, to which his responose is to always "come over, and we'll play for money." How I know this is because of a digression in conversation where in which Bill confesses he is not a lady killer, but instead a "madame killer" (because his student's mothers are always hitting on him). "You know, Fujii used to be a lady killer," is how the conversation really started.

Fujii, before he became a sensei, used to be a suit with long hair and girls hanging off his arms like decorations. He was inundated with gifts from girls at every turn, most of which were very expensive (giving gifts to the ones you wish to date seems to be very common practice here). His suaveness was further enhanced by his job, a bartender at a classy joint. The idea is sort of a non-sequitar for me. After all, the Fujii I know wears the same shirt nearly every day, and carries a box of teaching supplies around. Lady killer is not even on the list of adjectives I have for him. I remind myself that Bill has been to America, and knows the humour of a good lie. But then again, Fujii corraborated, so I have no legs left to stand on. Perhaps he really is one.

In any case, Fujii of the now is a friendly man who likes to laugh, and usually responds to everything by saying narhodou (indeed, or certainly) twice. Sometimes, when he is confused, or is agreeing with you, he makes four sounds that resonate in the back of his throat like a happy gorrilla. "Hm, hm, hm, hm". Consequently, I think he looks a little monkey-like. At first, i thought his intelligence reflected that of a monkey, I must confess, but I later found that he understands more than one initially thinks. I think it was simply a case of lack of practice. I have to remember that first impressions are never right.

The Crazies

2007-08-30T16:44:00.000-07:00

It is high time I describe the people that I'm working with, though I think it would do well to be noted that my knowledge of these people is rather shallow. Not speaking their language, I think, is an inhibiting factor in truely understanding their personality.

The first person I should make note of is my supervisor, who insists that he be called Bill. I call him Mr. Bill, usually, only because he doesn't know who Mr. Bill is. Whose clumsy now, Mr. Bill?

In any case, he is my favorite person here. He often stands up while he talks to me and announces to the office, "everybody. This school sucks." No one pays attention to him, but it makes me giggle at his complete passive aggressiveness. His English is so much more superior than that of the other teachers, that he'll purposely say something they don't understand. Whether this is score cool points with me, or to make him feel better about himself, I cannot say with certainty. I do, however, think it is for both reasons. His favorite phrase is, "any fucking way", and he repeats it twice, mostly because I laugh at it. Of the many things you expect an ESL to say, any fucking way is at the bottom of the list.

When asked to describe my supervisor, I often say that he is "too American for the Japanese, and too Japanese for the Americans." Two weeks later, I am still confident in this assesment. He is often complaining about things in Japan for some reason or another. When I said that I was excited for the Togi matsuri, he said, "why? It hurts your shoulder (refering to carrying the kiriko) and it's boring." However, I think he's more comfortable here, where he knows the rules of the game. He is two different people, he tells me. With me, he cusses and makes dirty jokes. He tells me that the him I see is a secret, and I need not tell my other co-workers that he is like that. Being two different people, myself, I can sympathize.

Location: Suprise, surprise, my desk.
Listening: Stop Me - Mark Ronson (cover)
Wishing: that I wasn't a slave to public image.

James Bond in the Land of Other James Bonds

2007-08-30T16:30:00.000-07:00

I drove on the left side of the road yesterday! It was dangerous, and I felt exactly like James Bond. This must be how it feels, fighting Russia and driving on the left side of the road. It's a wonderful feeling of absolute awesomeness. What is even more James Bond-like was that I drove without getting into an accident (which isn't really how every car chase ends), and without problems, aside from the fact that I kept hitting the wind shield wipers whenever I wanted to turn on the blinker. Surprise surprise. If the wheel is on the opposite side of what you're used it, everything else will be too.

I bought a manual yesterday, against the better judgement of the condescending car salesman, and my boss who thinks I too clumsy. However, aside from the fact the gear shift is, you guessed it, on the left, I'm confident I can handle it. Colorado is not exactly the flattest place (well, it is out towards Nebraska), so I'm sure I'll do fine in Togi. Anyways, I know enough about manuals that I won't freak out everytime I stall.

The joke is, right now, that if I'm out on the roads, I'm to call everyone and say "watch out! I'll be driving Route 249 between Suzu and Togi at 4 o'clock." All my co-workers think that's wildly funny. I think it's starting to get a little annoying. Yes, I've run into a fence post. Yes, I've run into a tree. I bare the scars of an over confident youth, and I've learned from them. I hope.

Clumsy is the popular word at Togi High school. I trip up the stairs because I'm not used to my slippers. Clumsy! I run into the door because I'm not paying attention. Clumsy! I drop food because I can't use chopsticks. CLUMSY! I forget my passport at the restaurant on my first day. CLUMSY CLUMSY! Bill, my supervisor, always introduces me like this: "This is the new ALT. Her name is clumsy."

To which, I am forced to reply, "I am actually Alison. But thanks, Bill."

Location: Desk
Listening: Elephant Gun -- Beirut
Wishing: to be able to do something productive.

Of Which Alison Recieves a Car

2007-08-26T17:00:00.000-07:00

My car was dropped off today, but my friends only stayed for five minutes. It was a very bizarre feeling that made me reevaluate my personality. Had I done something wrong? I wondered. I had been irritable in Kanazawa, surely that was the answer. They were two hours earlier than they had said they would be, and it was very lucky I saw them, for I was just leaving to watch the traditional Japanese dancing.

I was late, and caught the tail of end of a ceremony that forced me to travel back into my imaginary past lives. Surely this is what a heathen felt at his/her first mass, befuddled by the ceremony, and completely unaware of its purpose. We bowed, clapped our hands, and offered up tree branches with a paper hanging off of them. Souta, who is Ishihara-san’s grandson, was just as disinterested as a child would be at mass, playing with his Aunt Aki’s mobile, which gave a tinkling, fairy-like tone every time it opened.

I spent most of the day moping about, and at complete loss of what to do. I had thought, after all, that I was going to have company. Now I’m wondering if I should go to Suzu this weekend at all.

Unfortunately, I felt out of place today. I wanted the Ishihara’s to enjoy each other’s company, so I did not want to intrude. However, by myself, I felt like a poser. Nevertheless, I was stalwart in my decision to stay, and to not let paranoia beat me. I met a very nice lady name Yamamoto, whose niece will be in my third year class. I wish that I had talked to her more, but I am always nervous when I first meet someone and I ran away to buy some very disgusting yakisoba. I forgot that when you live on the coast, the default meat is fish, so I had to throw it away. The Japanese won’t believe that I don’t like it, and then I remind them that my supervisor also doesn’t like fish. Always, they ask, “is he Japanese?” I laugh and tell them yes, but “isn’t he strange?” I also have to explain them that fish is just not something common in Colorado. In Colorado, beef is everywhere, and it’s cheap. “Shinjirarenai!” they exclaim, meaning, “I can’t believe that!”

I was invited to Ishihara’s for dinner again, and this time I did not get sick. I was careful to avoid even looking at foods that I did not want to eat. In Japan, I’ve noticed, all one has to do is look at an item, and they automatically assume that one wants to eat it. Staring straight ahead has become somewhat of an art for me.

Then, that night, I pulled a contraption that I did not know the name of. It was an anticlimatic event, for after two hours, we stopped, clapped and congratulated each other for finishing. The float was very pretty, with two mannequins posed stolid beneath a pine tree littered with red lamps. At their feet was a waterfall of pink blossoms, and behind them was a small temple, sitting as if it were on the horizon of their journey. The singing the floated around this strange display was impossible to interpret, but I imagined it to be a story of two people in search of something, being pulled by an inexplicable force away from their home, but the memories of it keep following them.

Festival-ing it Up in Togi!

2007-08-26T16:54:00.000-07:00

I didn’t know how it started, but I found myself wandering down the street, summoned by the pied taiko drummer. At first, I was nervous. Did I belong? What will they think if I come watch? I felt as if I was an unwelcome tourist, shallowly trying to appreciate what was wholly theirs, snapping photos of their quaintness.

They pass my window now as I write this, like noisy ghosts, eerily illuminating the streets as they float by, accompanied by the steady beat of an echoing drum.

My favorite kiriko is the one that my students carry. It is big, and it takes all of their strength to keep it under control, all the while it spouts bubbles into the air as it wobbles too and fro. By the end of the night, I was sure they were all very, very drunk, and they danger, which when felt before was only superficial, became very real. When I mentioned this, the adults put their fingers to their lips and told me that it was a secret.

The children had their own kiriko, and were the only ones to be able to pass beneath the cement torri (gate to the shrine). A festival for a child is always seen through different eyes than that of an adult. When I was young, I loved large social events, excited to see what I had never seen before, and develop a meanings for what was previously ineffable to me. The lights and sounds in combination were like magic. As one grows older, however, the magic is peeled away like a cheap paint, and all one sees are excuses to drink and socialize. Perhaps only the children should be allowed to pass under the torii.

After the earthquake, only one torii survives, arched over the road, beckoning travelers to see what is beyond it. All others are cement, and their permanence is less impressive than the rotting wood of the sole survivor.

I found the other foreigner in Togi, and invited him to come along, although I don’t think it made Kana-chan (Ishihara-san’s other daughter) very happy. His Japanese is not very good, so I fear I will be forced to become his translator.

Going to a matsuri, I discovered, is a lot like playing a very slow game of frogger with rules that only the cars (or in this case, the kiriko) know. Whistles are being blown, sometimes to a mysterious beat, other times, frantically like a warning. What sounds like warnings, are merely ruses, for the real danger only happens when one least expects it.

Unfortunately, all my photos were lost. A faulty memory card is to blame. The last photo I tried to take was of rising moon in the lilac sky, greeting the world through the leaves a plum tree. Perhaps such beauty was never meant to be captured.

That night, I was finally struck by the ceremony of the Togi matsuri. They circled shrine, all shouting their individual calls, slurring them in their liquor induced haze. It was as if hedonism and asceticism had found a way to merge, and they did so by requiring men to carry heavy contraptions (often without padding) for hours upon hours, yet allow them to drink to their heart’s desire.

Bottles of sake were passed around, and I had managed to avoid them until a man who dubbed himself the Japanese Jimi Hendrix forced me to drink. He cut a very funny site, wearing his happi (tradition Japanese coat that represents the neighborhood you are from), accompanied gigantic black, afro wig. He was very impressed that Nick was from New York, and too embarrassed to say that he didn’t know where Colorado was. His friends gathered around us, and I tried very hard to translate drunkenese for Nick. No one seemed to notice that I wasn’t very good at it. We learned many times that his friend had a “japanese tattoo”, because he kept lifting his shirtsleeve and showing it to us. I said that looked like it hurt, and he grinned at me. “It did,” he said.

Watching Bad British Television and Waiting for Bad Brits

2007-08-23T20:26:00.000-07:00

EDIT: Sunday ought to be exciting, for my friend Ezzie, and my newly acquired friend, Anne, are coming! I'm not sure if Michael is, but I will be sure to buy enough food in any case.

Before I left for Japan, I let myself buy one television show for the first difficult few months. This show was the unfortunate choice of BBC 2's Robin Hood. The most unfortunate thing about it, aside from the downright awful scripting that happens every now and again, and the blaring plot holes, is that it is only thirteen episodes long. I've been trying to space them, watching commentaries on episodes I have just watched, and watching an extra instead of an episode. But my time is almost done, and without internet I fear my sanity. Escapism is like a drug, and one needs it at least every few days.

However, the show isn't all bad. It has some very good ideas, and the characters, in general, are very interesting. One character I like in particular is Much (who is played by the grandson of Patrick Troughton, the 2nd Doctor! Coolies!), the manservant of Robin Hood. The following page is off in its description of him, but here it is anyways:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/drama/robinhood/characters/much.shtml

Despite the impending lack of Robin, I have found some respite in some very intriguing JDramas. What their names are and what they are about, I am unable to say. Nevertheless, the incessant indignant slapping of one another is just enough to take the edge off.

Last night, I watched the taiko drums practice for tomorrow's matsuri. Expect photos and updates on Monday, or for those of you who are current living in the past, Sunday.

Eating and Drinking in Kanazawa

2007-08-22T22:44:00.000-07:00

Kanazawa is known as little Kyoto, and I can hardly disagree with the description after visiting the Katamachi district. The streets are slightly less accessible, but it is a large city, teeming with pedestrians casually strolling in the brightly lit streets. The city was so electric that even when I closed my eyes, the lights dizzily danced through my eyelids making me feel as I had stood up too fast.

However, no matter how much one praises Kanazawa, one cannot ignore its most blaring downside. Due to lack of imagination, it seems, rather than any discrediting factors of the city itself, the only thing to do there is drink. This is, naturally, not true. The city is host to gardens, geisha districts, and many other attractions. However, with the small amount of time I had (being there only in the evening), and having no earthly concept of the geography of Kanazawa (the streets are annoyingly twisting with little or no method), I was forced to eat and drink as entertainment.

It was because of this, as a sober person, that I found I hate being around people who are drunk. They are loud, obnoxious, and think themselves to be unerringly funny. Ezzie, my friend who I love dearly, did very little to endear herself to me. She was touchy-feely and laughed at everything in a loud cackle that sounded as if it bordered on octaves that only dogs could hear. Anything derogatory was sported like a mortal wound that made her whimper and cry, “why are you being so mean to me?” She would then mope by burying her head in either my, or Michael’s shoulder. Fortunately, she forgot most of the rude things I did say to her the next day. I feel bad for being a wet blanket, even though I did my best to drink.

All in all, the trip to Kanazawa was not as fun as I had originally imagined it would be. When one goes to Little Kyoto, one expects some experiences. The only real experience I had made me cry. I thought my supervisor left me to fend for myself. It was wholly embarrassing. Not having a cell phone, I had to ask the office workers at the Jyosei Center to let me use the phone, and I called the one phone number I had. Unfortunately, this number was a person that I had not met yet. He was very kind, but told me that he was in Tokyo, and thus, unable to help me. However, he did give me the Prefectural Advisor’s number, and Fiona’s (a very nice Irish girl) number. Neither picked up, so I left a panicked message, which made me break down into tears. I told the very worried office workers that I was lost, and they spoke to me so rapidly that all I could do was cry. Then, at my most panicked moment, my supervisor walks in with a very confused look on his face. He had thought, because my orientation made me so late, that he was supposed to pick me up at the other hotel, but he could not find me so he came back. Sobbing every two breaths, I tell him that we were supposed to meet at the very spot I stood weeping.

“I know you won’t believe this,” he told me as he helped me get into his car, “but this is the first time I have ever made a girl cry.” I told him that he was lying, and he’s probably broken a whole stream of girl’s hearts. Then, I made him promise not to tell anyone that I was so distraught that I was crying. I don’t know if he will keep that promise.

After that, it was a very nice two-hour ride home, during which we decided that the blame for what happened in Kanazawa should be divided 51/49. I, naturally, was 51 percent to blame.

Taiko at Two O'clock

2007-08-21T18:57:00.000-07:00

This actually took place the 13th of August:

Suzu has been nothing but eventful, and I find myself thinking how appropriate the kanji (珠洲), which means “pearl state”, is. The city itself is hard to penetrate, but once I did, I found that there was an absolute wealth of beauty and fascinating attractions.

I was introduced to Naho this day, a beautiful Canadian girl who speaks native Japanese because of her parents, but admits that she cannot read or write it as well as she ought to be able to. When she speaks, I become shamefully prideful because I understand most of what she says, unlike every other Japanese person I’ve met. This is likely because she speaks Tokyo-ben (Tokyo dialect, or as my supervisor calls it, city slicker dialect), the dialect that one learns in university. Inexplicably, it reminds me of my supervisor who says jokingly, “I speak three languages: English, Japanese, and Ishikawa-ben.”

We went to two beaches, the first because of its renowned beauty and the second because of its accessibility. I cannot remember the name of the first beach, but it was breathtakingly beautiful if one ignores that rubbish that naturally accumulates because of its geography. The irony of the beach is not lost on anyone. However, all the good spots on the beach were taken, it proved to be too dangerous for us more timid swimmers to get to the nicer waters, so instead we choose to go the beach which is only ten minutes away from Suzu as opposed to the first one (which took us a forty-five minutes to get to).

Michael climbing the rock at an unnamed beach.

Playing keep away at the beach in Suzu

After eating a dinner at a restaurant that was far too expensive for what it provided, we went to the Suzu Matsuri. It was simultaneously the most frenetic and the most laid back event I had ever seen. The lively taiko beat was always drifting in and out of street, but the kiriko (floats) stopped every five minutes. Whether this was to give the men carrying them a break, or if it was a tradition, I was not sure.

The kiriko are insanely dangerous! The tilt and sway, and are stopped because they often catch the ubiquitous power lines that arch over the streets. At this point, a person must climb up and free it. Mind you, these people have drunk, by this time, vast amounts of cheap, bitter beer. I wanted to yell “abunaiyo” (Watch out!) every few seconds. Six years previously, Takeyo (Anne’s boyfriend) informed us, a spectator was paralyzed because they had not been watching out for the seemingly impossible to control kiriko. It was enough to make me nervous, to say the least.

Smoking and drinking makes a good matsuri.

Drunkenly touching power lines has become the lastest addition to national pastimes.

I got very few good photos because I have yet to figure out how to use my camera in the nighttime. The oddest thing was that I could not tell if anyone was enjoying themselves that night. It seemed to some that the matsuri was a stupid, boring, and troublesome custom. I found out that there is also not enough men in each neighborhood to bear the kiriko because of the negative population growth and the Diaspora to the cities Takeyo helped out Iida town, and he didn’t seem to pleased to do it.

Little kids hitching a ride on the kiriko. Michael begged me to get at least one picture of this little girl.

Everyone will tell you that Japan is the land where tradition meets modernity, and they hold each other's hands happily, even willingly. Many will argue against this idea, but this matsuri was definitely agreeing with that concept. Matsuri is a very old tradition, yet all of the kiriko are illuminated by electricity, and the men who urge the carriers on hold lightsaber-like swords as they scream their nonsense cheers. Even as the electric lights poored from the many old lanterns, I could still feel the antiquity burning brighter than any lamp could

After four hours of nonstop taiko drumming, even the most culturally curious part of me was becoming tired. It was two o’clock in the morning, and I have trouble staying up past midnight in general. There is a zero tolerance policy on alcohol in Japan, so one cannot even have one beer if one intends to drive. Of course, we were well beyond that, so we had to walk thirty minutes back. I saw the apartment like it was the Holy Grail, and I turned to make a beeline for it. Unfortunately, there was a rice paddy between the apartment, and me. Within two steps I was wet, and struggling to get out a ditch, only to fall into another one, losing a sandal in the process. With the light of our cell phones, we looked for it, but it was too no avail. I was shoeless in Suzu.

Obon

2007-08-21T18:28:00.001-07:00

For some reason or another, this is written in historic present tense... Don't ask me why. Also, this happened on the 12th, but I have not had internet until this point.

My supervisor laughs when I inform I’m going to Suzu (珠洲) for Obon to visit my friend, Ezzie.

“Without a car,” his amusement is undisguised, “I don’t know how to get there.” With that, he bids me to call someone in Suzu and ask the best way, to which the reply is overwhelmingly, “why would you want to go to Suzu?” After I wait for the laughing to subside, and they realize I’m quite serious, they tell me to go to Anamizu with puzzlement thick in their voices. I nod, trying to fake confidence even though they cannot see me through the phone, and neglect to tell them I don’t actually know where it is.

Bus schedules in rural areas, such as the Noto peninsula are punctual but infrequent. Traveling north is a joke, for all bus schedules tell are for the southern towns, such as Hakui, and Kanazawa.

Nevertheless, I am stubborn about my impromptu decision, and I venture to the bus station to figure out the best route. As the directions are being explained, I notice that man’s cigarette has extinguished in neglect because of his shock. Why would anyone want to go to Suzu? The quest becomes more daunting, but I refuse to succumb to cowardice.

The first bus out of Togi to the north is at seven o’clock. Determined not be on busses all day, I wake up at six, and arrive at the station at six forty-five. At seven o’clock, I notice a bus leave, read its characters and realize its mine as it disappears through the city streets with an endless stream of my curse words chasing it, as if I believe they will wrangle it and bring it back. I chock it up to fate, and suppose there is a reason for missing the bus, though none become readily apparent. I believe in fate, although it does seem determined to make me live a life of never-ending stagnation. So, I returned home, watch Pocket Monsters (which is surprisingly easy to understand), some baseball and then make my way back to the terminal. This time, I get on the bus and make my way to the next terminal, a small Podunk town called Monzen.

The characters for Monzen (門前) mean “before the gate”, and I can only presume it means the gate way to hell. The streets where desolate, with the only population visible waiting in a very hot bus station for buses that seemed would never come. I am left with nothing to do but wonder if the devil had thought of making this a punishment for sins. Two hours pass, and I’m convinced that the lady sitting next to me is a witch, so much so that I write this:

There was a witch in Monzen, on the Eleventh of August, waiting for a bus. When
she spoke, her voice went into octaves inconceivable by ordinary humans, and
when she found something funny (which was usually something she said), she did
not laugh as you and I would, but instead cackled so loudly that for those brief
moments the room was so full of noise and echoes that one could hardly breath
for it was devoid of air. When her companion leaves her to smoke, she stands up
and paces, only to stand in front of the window and mumble nonsense phrases that
are likely curses. I felt fortunate to have preemptively countered her curses
earlier by holding my breath while going through a tunnel and wishing to make it
to my destination ok. She continues to mumble as I leave her. The witch was
still waiting for her bus.

I meet another foreigner on the bus, a second-year ALT on the bus, and I realize that it was then that I was meant to miss the first bus. Without him, I surely would have missed my stop and ended up in the far reaches of the Noto peninsula with nothing but a list of phone numbers to aid me.

I get out of the bus into the sticky heat of Anamizu 1600 yen and five hours later with high hopes about my last leg of the journey. However, all hopes are dashed when I try to read the schedule which is incomprehensible to anyone but a Japanese person. My genius plan, then, is to ask every single bus, no matter what side of the road, if it is going to Suzu. There is no such luck, and I continue to wait with my toes burning in the sun and my throat slowly drying like a pot in a kiln. It becomes harder and harder to swallow with every passing, burning second.

This is where I waited for the bus for three hours. Engrish like this is not uncommon.

Unable to bear the thirst any longer, I make my way to the ever ubiquitous vending machine, at which point I am accosted by a strange man with a poorly shaven face, a dowdy fishing hat and a shirt that proudly proclaims the name New York. He asks me “where are you going?” twice, as if he is unsure of his grammar.

“Suzu,” I reply.

“Wait here, wait here.” He motions to the stop I was at, and then looks at the bus schedule. The bus, he informs me, will not arrive until six o’clock. I look at my watch, which says it is only three. Seeing my face fall, he invites me to his house. I scramble for a way out, and remember there was a CD store nearby. “I like music,” I shake my head, “so I will go do some shopping.”

“I’ll come with you.” He is still fumbling with words. Excited to see a foreigner, he tells me that he is forty-five and asks “do you have a boyfriend?” I lie and say yes, and he tells me that I need to get married to him quickly. He says, “I hate Japan” and points to his shirt. “That is why I why I wear this.” It takes my best effort, but I smile knowingly, although up until this point I had found I really rather liked Japan.

As we approach the doors into the store he stops and he says that he can’t come in. Thankful for the opportunity to be left, I walk in without a second glance, fervently praying that he won’t be waiting for me to come out. I start to wonder if fate is being cruel again.

Originally, I plan to grab a CD randomly to add some more adventure to my life. However, the price was enough to quell even the most spendthrift part of me. Reluctantly, I set the CD that I had chosen (largely due to the very attractive man that looked up at me with sultry eyes) down and wander into the book section. Frankly, I was having enough of adventure. Comic books are a very cheap in Japan, so I bought five books and wandered over to the magazine section. My vain efforts to translate the titles is interrupted by a “hey! Hey!”

He is standing in the doors with a CD in his hand. Warily, he walks in and gives me the Best of Marvin Gaye which I accept suspiciously, largely due to the sheer arbitrariness of it, but also because I don’t actually like Marvin Gaye. With it, he gives me his three cell phone numbers, home number, and email address which he admits sheepishly. I chortle because it is Momotaroh125943, which is evidently a very popular name. Momotaroh is a tale that I have only just learned, but it is very famous in Japan. It is about a boy found in a peach with amazing fighting abilities, and it seems to me that everybody in Japan wants to be him. At least 125943 are not afraid to admit it.

The man leaves again, casting his eyes about nervously and I sneak out and dodge into the grocery store, which is busy, crowded, and not well suited for a frightened foreigner carting a suitcase around. I buy a snack because I remember I have not eaten since I left, and the sneak back to the bus stop, worried that Mamatoroh125943-san will return. A bus comes, and I do my usual “Are you going to Suzu?”

The bus driver replies, “Suzu no iida,” and I give him a blank look devoid of comprehension. He shakes his head and drives off. Two seconds pass, and it dawns on me that he was saying that it goes to Iida station, the exact place I needed to go. I berate myself using a few choice words that I say a little too loudly, and wait for another bus which comes forty-five minutes later and ask “Are you going to Suzu’s Iida station?” and the he nods his head unenthusiastically.

The bus ride is beautiful, yet I spend my time pondering safe places to go should earthquake occur. I came to the unfortunate conclusion that there is none, and resolve not to tell my mother about this, for she worries enough as it is. After that, the trip was uneventful. I was spotted by Anne (apparently it is very easy to spot blond hair in Japan), a fourth year ALT in Suzu who called Ezzie and she ran out to greet me. I try to tell her I am to sweaty to hug her but she does so any way. We meet the two other ALTs and eat ramen at a local ramen house and watch Shaun of the Dead. I thank god for the night for being uneventful as I go to bed for I had enough adventure for one day.

2007-08-09T19:42:00.000-07:00

I often refer to this picture as the best thing (even in it's unfinished form) I've ever drawn. It is entitled "The Assasinaton of Autorobocrat". Why I bring this up is that I am to introduce myself to the classes, which includes listing my awfully boring hobbies (i.e, sleeping, hiking, writing, drawing). And, as I list these hobbies, I need pictures for examples, as the student's English is apparently awful. Unfortunately, this is the sort of thing I draw. I wonder what they will think of their new gaikokujin...

Currently, I am living in two apartments, and it is a little nervewracking to have to consistently keep moving from apartment to apartment just to get ready in the morning. I probably make a very fun sight, running in between with dirty plates, then socks, and then shoes. The apartment I am supposed to be living in, and the one I am paying rent for has no key, so I don't feel comfortable leaving some of more precious belongings in there, nor do I feel comfortable sleeping in there. Also, the window is still broken, and so is the washing machine. I'm wondering if some things have been forgotten during the renovation, like the curious lack of a bathroom sink, and the missing lid to the washing machine as well as drying racks for my clothing. Hopefully, it is just the language gap and I'm misunderstanding when I am to actually move in, although I'm nearly postive she said it was two days ago.

I get three days off to enjoy Obon, and I think I may go to Suzu to see my new friend Ezzie. There really isn't much to say about her other than I genuinely like her. She's very friendly in the stereo-typcial English mother sort of way (although she is my age). I'm hoping to hear many fascinating stories from her as I go. As for me, it's quite clear that today has a boring entry.

Togi, the Cursed Town

2007-08-07T22:50:00.000-07:00

It has been a week since I arrived in Togi, and this is the first oppurtunity that I have been afforded to write. It is a beautiful city that seems larger than its population, and I long to walk into the empty houses to discover their secrets. After the earthquake that condemned many of the houses, it seems that would not be a good idea, but the desire is still nothing short of persistant.

A house full of wonders, I'm sure of it.

I feel like I have amnesia. Everything is so familiar, yet I am always confused. This feeling was most poignant as I stared at the microwave in the teacher's office, trying to heat my food and failing miserably. Or when I had to ask the grocery clerk if a meat was chicken. I feel bereft of all things that I had inherently known, and it is a surreal feeling to say the least. In day to day conversation, I understand only half of what I'm told, and people tip toe around me because they do not know how much I understand, worried that they might confuse me even more.

The view from my apartment.

I already love Togi, but I cannot help but feel as if they town is cursed. Togi is considered to be the most rurul place to be sent to in the Ishikawa prefecture, yet there is more convenience here than I ever had in Elizabeth. One does not need a car to get around town and visit the various small mom and pop grocery stores (although it seems as if everyone uses their cars anyways). It is completely self-sufficient, and consequently, it has stagnated and this curse that touches all of the residents.

Teachers, after five or so years, should transfer to other schools yet many teachers have stayed at Togi for much longer than that. One teacher grew up in Togi, went to Togi High, went away to Kyoto for university and then found herself spiraling closing and closer to Togi as she was transferred from school to school. I wonder if the thought that she has returned ever bothers her.

This stagnation has led to meeting some very interesting characters, however. Last night, I was befriended by my Oya-san(landlord) and her friends who were all very interested to know old I thought they all were.I'm sure they thought I was flattering them outrageously, but the Japanese honestly look younger than American women.

I wish I had had my camera, for no description could ever do these ladies justice. The lady who was on my right was sitting casually back, her thin arms resting on the table. She said that really likes the color red (and I believe her, as her drawn-on eyebrows, shirt, and car were all red), that she is actually sixty years old and plays on a volleyball team. She also insists, and not without good reason, that she can run faster than me. I smile and agree with her. The next lady, whose name is the only name I can remember, assures me that it is okay to call her Nao-chan (chan is a suffix reserved for young girls), although I can't get myself to do it because she is so much older than me. Speaking Japanese, interspersed with broken english translations of simple Japanese words that I already know, she loudly asked me what I like, and what I dislike. She wonuld not believe that I liked umeboshi, but nodded her head knowingly when I confess I didn't like natto or tofu. The other lady was a quiet woman who fanned herself as she made small, cute noises from the bottom of her throat that I thought meant that she agreed with whatever Nao-chan was currently proselytizing. Ishihara, my land lady, was to my surprise, not the life of party. Instead, she chimed in every now and then only to make the other three laugh, and then continued to listen to Nao-chan and the elderly woman who liked red.

The experience was wonderful, if not a little confusing. But, very little this week has not confused me.

Trains to Akihibara

2007-07-30T15:03:00.000-07:00

Akihabara, or as the signs at the train station call it, is the Electric Town. The name Akihibara is strange in itself, for the kanji compound (秋葉原) means something like "the leaves of fall", which is in stark contrast to this quarter which seems completely unaffected by nature. The offending rain of the evening serves only a tool to illuminate the streets from above and below with promises of the latest electronics.

There were very few places open when we arrived, but we spent some time trying to get ouf the rain an arcade. I learned something important that night: Japanese arcade games are unbelievably hard! They only give you two tongs to pick of these absolutely adorable plushies. We spent about ¥1,000 and had no sucess whatsoever.

Akihabara

I also rode a train for the first ever in my life (excepting the speeding train of the DIA concourse), and it is an experience that I think one can never fully prepare for. The kanji on the boards are incomprehensible, although all the routes are very neatly arranged. Fortunately, we were able to figure out the symbol for aki and bara. Also, the consistent change in velocity was continually catching me off-gaurd. My balance isn't very good to begin with.

Good composition is hard to acheive on a train.

Unfortunately, when we did arrive in Akihabara, nearly all of the stores were closed, and the ones that were open did not have the dictionaries we needed. However, the selection of DS games was phenomonal, and it was all I could do to stop myself from purchasing one.

Within a half hour of arriving in Akihibara, we made our way back through a rainstorm we were ill-prepared for (one pink umbrella for seven people), and as we walked through the station to the hotel I saw the most remarkable thing. Unfortunately, I could not document it with a photo because I was afraid that it would be rude. Everywhere between the supports and the walls, there were men building cardboard walls and beds. This surprised all of us because we had not seen this the first time we had walked through. It seems as if this men were homeless, and every morning they struck down their cardboard tents, only to erect them again that night. These men were unfriendly to the passer-byers, but some were conversing with one another as if they were old neighbors. It was disheartening, and bewildering. How is one supposed to react, except to callously ignore them?

Location: Keio Plaza Hotel Room, Tokyo JAPAN
Song: Hang Me Up to Dry - The Cold War Kids
Last Ate: Curry

More Foreigners! (もっと外人!)

2007-07-29T14:33:00.000-07:00

For all you that live in the United States, I am contacting you from the future! I understand how timezones work, but that still doesn't take away from the mystique of me writing this on an overcast Monday in Tokyo while it is still Sunday in Colorado.

Losing a day is a very surreal feeling, especially when one spends a whole day with night close at one's heels. Fourteen hours in the air, and it never once got dark. Again, I understand the science of it all, but greater person than me would find nothing but poetry.

In any case, I've had one experience so far and I've only been in Tokyo twelve hours. If only I had had a camera to document the occasion! A few of us CSU students, plus one other, decided to go out around the town and find dinner. While we were wandering around, completely dumbfounded by the rainbows of lights that saturate the city after dark, we were approached by a very loud, and very determined business woman who assured us free beer if we ate at her restaurant.

As she walks us in (after first ushering us into an elevator with a capacity for two), she yells, "motto gaijin! Motto motto gaijin!" which translates to "more foreigners! Much more foreigners!"

As it turns out, we were not the only ones she had seduced with the magic of free beer. Choosing the food was interesting, and she spirited Megan, the most fluent of all of us, away to the kitchen to assure us of what we were eating, since none of us understood the menu. All in all, it was very tasty, or as the business women kept assuring us "totemo oishi desu ne? TOTEMO OISHI" or "it's very good isn't it? VERY GOOD!" She had very little of the stereotypical japanese modesty.

I haven't got any chances to take any pictures, but I took this from my hotel window:

Shot of the street below through an uncooperative window.

2007-07-27T09:55:00.001-07:00

I'm very nearly done packing. Will write more in a few days.