Miyagi Weekend

Last weekend, I attempted my first big trip in Japan. I hopped aboard a train… and another train… and a bullet train… and another train to visit my friend Sonia in the northern Honshu prefecture of Miyagi.

It was a little more of an ordeal on the way there than I had expected because Ota doesn’t have a Japan Railway ticket office at the train station and by the time I reached a station on the JR line, the ticket booth with an actual person was closed. I had to find some help with the automated machine, and fast because I only had 16 minutes between trains. Thank goodness for the fact that many Japanese people are very generous when it comes to helping foreigners.

The other problem was that I thought I would be cleaver and save money by not getting a reserved seat on the shinkansen (bullet train.) It turns out that this often means you don’t get a seat at all and end up standing for the entire duration of the trip. Somehow, I managed to find a luggage storage corner and plunk myself down on top of my backpack. Before finding that spot, I was being stepped on by a Disney singing child and had a small dog hovering above me in someone’s handbag. Ugh! I bought a proper ticket for the way home.


The weekend was fantastic. Miyagi is beautiful. In fact, the guidebooks say the third most beautiful place in the country is there – Matsushima.


More than that, it was a pleasure to catch-up and visit with a friend from home.


I’ll let my pictures tell the rest of the story. Click here.

I’d like to open a new-name account please. (Or, how The Gunma Bank changed my name.)

Ah, the lovely life of a foreigner. I must say, my admiration for people who migrate/immigrate to a new country increases exponentially daily. Here’s this week’s trial for you.

In Japan, names are very different. They sound different. Perhaps that’s obvious, but it makes it hard to remember people’s names if you’re also trying to remember a whole slew of new names too. They look different. Japanese names are written in kanji characters. As a foreigner, my name is written only in katakana, an alphabet strictly reserved for foreign words. And, they’re just plain written differently. Your family name goes first, given name second. And middle name? My advice is forget about it and do your utmost to remove your middle name from any official documents before you arrive in Nihon.

I have a middle name. Or, I had a middle name. My parents, in a moment of absolute humour and love, not faith, gave me the middle name Ruth (we can save that story for another day.) Odelia Ruth Bay. Three names, in that order. Not a bad ring to it either.

In Japan, Odelia Ruth Bay doesn’t really work all that well. Usually, I’m Bay Odelia Ruth. I make a practice of always asking how it should be written each time I fill in a form of some kind.

A few days after my arrival in Ota, I made the requisite visit to The Gunma Bank to open a Japanese bank account, an absolute essential for life here. As usual, I asked how they wanted me to write my name in English. The teller asked that it be last name first, first name second, and middle name last. I handed her a piece of paper that said, “Bay Odelia Ruth.” What I got back was a bankbook that had printed on it, “BAY ODELIARUTH.” Through the patient interpretation of my supervisor I explain that no, in fact Odelia and Ruth are two separate names. She explains that it’s okay and not to worry, that the bank’s computer system simply allows for only one space. Okay, can’t argue with that.

(Insert music and fade effects here to denote passage of time.)

On Tuesday, I get an urgent message from the managers of my apartment complex. They will be unable to withdraw the rent from my bank account because the name they have on file for me (Odelia Ruth Bay) doesn’t at all match what’s on file with the bank. I urgently need to fill out new paperwork and I will have to pay a transfer penalty to cover my rent. The woman from the company arrives at my school that afternoon. I don’t have my bankbook with me and so we fill in a stack of forms with my name written FOUR different ways to try and ensure that something will match what the bank has on file. Yes, every detail counts, even the use of only uppercase letters.

I am informed that from now on, for the purpose of ensuring that my finances are in order, I should fill out any monetary related forms as BAY ODELIARUTH. Try saying that 10 times fast. And so, the bank has officially renamed me.

It’s not the first time my name has been changed crossing borders, linguistic, geographic or political. I’m told it wasn’t always Bay…

Close encounters of the food kind

I was up at 7 am on Sunday. By choice. My Thursday night cooking class was headed to Karuizawa, Nagano on a fieldtrip and a special invitation had been extended to me and Caitlin, another JET who attends the weekly classes with me.

A quick shower and breakfast and I was off to the Tochinomi cooking school to meet the bus. Looking back, I would have been far better off skipping breakfast. We were fed a slew of snacks on the bus for the first hour of the ride. First, we had boiled sweet potatoes. The potato was white on the inside with a brilliant purple skin. It was sweet, but not as sugary as the orange ones I’m used to. Then, we had large chunks of fresh, pickled ginger – very strong and very refreshing. Next, came a large rice cracker that was simultaneously sweet and spicy. Finally, there were some little manju. These tiny buns had a sweet and earthy taste and were filled with bean paste.

Our first stop was at a grocery store in Karuizawa. I went for the omiyagi – small wrapped sweets to give to my coworkers as gifts. Omiyagi is important for two reasons: 1) the staff and teachers at the school helped me to arrange Sunday’s adventure, and 2) it is tradition. The rest of the cooking gang dived into mounds of cooking sauces and biscuits that were described as regional specialties. It was an absolute mob scene I have only seen replicated around the dessert tray at the Ota City Hall buffet. Women emerged from the grocery store with boxes full of food and filled the luggage compartment of the bus. I was content with a single package of biscuits.

Next, was the culinary highlight of the trip, an Italian lunch at the Prince Hotel. The dinning room itself was stunning, an effect amplified by the building’s design. In order to ender the large room, you must first walk through a dimly lit, carpeted tunnel. It was as if you went from sensory depravation to overload. The hall was filled with natural light and graced by a panoramic view of the mountains, a lovely compliment to our 3800 yen meal.


The teacher had ordered two different meals for us. Each person received one or the other and we paired up to share and sample the different flavours. Some highlights: thinly sliced and lightly cooked octopus with a sweet, pink marinade and a touch of mandarin and yellow tomato; a delicate broth filled with clams, little pieces of broccoli and sprinkle of couscous; ricotta stuffed ravioli in a rich butter and cream sauce with a dash of tomato and sage; thinly sliced beef in balsamic vinegar topped with a persimmon relish.

After lunch, there was a museum stop. We visited an old, traditional style Japanese house and historical site. The three-story house was oddly filled with modern furnishings. I have to admit, that I didn’t get it. The other people in the group, however, seemed highly impressed.

Next, we climbed back on the bus and headed to Ginza dori, a famous and very touristy shopping street. Again, lots of food related opportunities here. Caitlin and I sampled oodles of local jams and pickles. Yes, we basically grazed along the strip.


The town felt strangely European. There were German sausage shops, Italian restaurants, and artwork with various Christian motifs.

Dinner was a brief, and somewhat confusing, stop at a famous takeout spot. Clay pots were filled with rice and baked with shiitake mushrooms, chestnuts, apricot, daikon radish and burdock. There were pickles on the side. The meal was wolfed down in record time before it was again time to board the bus and head home, bellies full.

Click here for more photos.

Ota Life

The weather is cooling off and life is getting a bit more predictable. I’m doing my exploring a little closer to home lately. I’m trying to find the time to take the turns in the road I haven’t before and make a little bit of time at school for just relaxing and enjoying what school life has to offer.

Last Saturday, I climbed aboard my trusty bike and headed in the direction of the mountain via the river. My goal was simply to head off as far as was interesting without getting lost and find vignettes to capture on film.

I’m new enough here that the small elements of daily life are still fascinating to me: the children feeding koi fish; the woman fishing; or, the seniors playing in the park.




Somehow, I was able to stumble on the road to the temples on Kanayama mountain I was actually hoping to find.

The Daikoin Temple was my first stop. The god of music is enshrined here.




Also called “Kosodate Donryu” which translates to, “taking care of children,” many parents take their newborns to the Daikoin Temple for a special naming ceremony. Several babies in long, flowing robes were being escorted in and out of the temple in the short time I was there, pausing for family photos on the steps.


A little further up the mountain revealed a shot path up to the Kinryuji Temple and it’s surrounding graveyard.


Somehow, I missed the proper path to hike up the mountain and attempted the winding road. It was uncomfortable competing with the cars and I decided to leave that part of the adventure for another day.

Life at school has been full of adventure too. A little time to explore the world outside of classes reveals even more pleasures. This week, students at the high school were practicing for a chorus competition. Before classes, at lunch, and after school the halls were full of wonderful singing. Amazing effort.


Some of the discoveries and new experiences were not as pleasurable. I experienced my first typhoon. Thankfully, the Gunma mountains shield us from the worst of it. And the brunt of the storm occurred last night after I was already in bed.

Perhaps, I should have stayed home and played it safe given the approaching storm, but there is so much to do and I don’t want to miss out on anything. So, even though the high school sent all of the students and staff directly home at the end of the day, I went to cooking class.

It was terrific fun with a tasty reward at the end. Caitlin, another ALT, and I attempted to follow along, translating ingredients and keeping a close eye on the entire process. We did well and only lost track of the pork dish once. Not to worry, we found it, retraced its steps and then devoured it.


What a delicious week.

See more pictures here.

Odelia Sensei

I’m teaching! After all, it is what I came to Japan to do (if you don’t count the opportunity for adventure, travel in Japan and Asia, and the time for self-reflection, etc.)

The first week in the classroom went by in a flash. There’s so much to do. And, this is a bit of a scary thought for me because it was a light week – I only had half the number of classes compared to a regular week and the material for the first lesson was a piece of cake considering it was my life that was the topic.

Monday was the official welcome back for the students and my official introductions to staff and students (It was also the last day of summer weather. Who knew the sun would disappear over night?) Everything went very well, considering I was up early that morning and sick as a dog from eating who knows what. Of all the times… I couldn’t very well call in sick. You only get one first day. I just breathed and smiled my way through it and I don’t think anyone noticed anything.



In the morning, I gave my speech to the teachers in Japanese. I added a special thanks for their help in getting my housing issues all sorted out. A quick scrub down of the school by staff and students (there are no janitors at Japanese schools.) And then, it was off to the gym for the assembly. I gave my speech in a mix of Japanese and English and I think it went over fairly well. The kocho-sensei (principal) gave a speech encouraging the students to devote themselves to their studies. He also spent a lot of time talking about the environment and said that each student had a responsibility to do something about global warming. His message seemed to verge on the political in a way that would never happen in Canada.

On Tuesday morning I had my first class. After weeks of smiles and hellos from students, it was a shock to find them so shy and quiet in class. I must admit that I had been warned, but my experiences to date seemed to indicate an entirely different reality. Not so. The whole thing felt so awkward. The lesson plan didn’t time out right and I wasn’t sure if any of the students understood a word I said. Plus, the speakers I bought for my computer slide show were crap and made it impossible to hear the anthem I wanted to play for them. No one had questions for me, no one seemed to know what to do.

After a little re-jigging of the lesson plan, and a new stereo system, the self-introduction class seemed to be a hit with the other classes at my base school. I even found the nerve to sing O’Canada for the students. After, however, the students took an oath. It went, “I promise to try my hardest in English class and not be afraid to make a mistake, because Odelia embarrassed herself singing.” I also found out that the first class of the week also has a reputation for being very quiet.



It’s fun to watch the students as they sit and take in my presentation. Some of their reactions have become so predictable it’s as if they are choreographed. “Ooooo,” they say when the photo of me and Noah pops up. “Kawaii!” (cute) when my cat’s photo is on the screen. They all gasp when the rams butt heads in the video of the anthem and then coo immediately afterwards when the shot of the otter pops up. It’s kind of an, “Ohhhh/kawaii!” combo.

All’s good at Ota Girls’ High School.

The visit school, Nitta Akatsuki High School, is another story all together. These kids seem like they couldn’t care less about the class. And, I can’t really blame them. It’s a technical school and many of them won’t go on to any kind of post-secondary program, at least not one that requires an English exam. And the timing of the class makes things even worse. I teach two periods with them. Both of the 50 minute classes are back to back, so that’s almost two hours straight of the same class. And, these two hours fall right after lunch and right before the end of school for the week. A victim of timing.

These kids were listening only periodically. Some of them filled out the worksheets, most didn’t bother. And, at least 3 of them slept through parts of the class. They’re mean to each other too. One boy, who you could tell wasn’t the coolest in the class was sitting all by himself. There was some group work, so I asked the table of girls behind him if he could be part of their group. Asking was my mistake. I got a resounding “NO”. It was probably the most confidently any student in that class had spoken any English the entire afternoon.

I’m nervous about teaching these kids. The teacher wants me to plan a year of journalism themed activities around newspaper and radio type ideas. It’s a good suggestion and fits in well with their written and oral units. But it’s going to be a lot of work to come up with activities and pull this off. Especially for a group of students who’d much rather be doing just about anything else. I’m going to try to turn some of my ideas into games and class competitions. We’ll see if that helps.

The students at Ota Girls’ are so very different from the students at Nitta Akatsuki. They are very motivated. On Friday, I was in Takasaki for a get together with other Assistant Language Teachers. It’s about an hour and a bit by train from Ota. At the train station, I ran into two students who travel all that way, every Friday, for a math cram school. Amazing.

I walked home from the station with one girl. She’s truly trilingual (Japanese, English, and Chinese.) Her dream is to become a doctor and work internationally. She’d even like to study medicine in Canada. She nearly burst with excitement when I told her that Doctors Without Borders is a Canadian invention. I have a feeling I’ll hear a lot from this student over the year.

I’ve had my initiation. Now, down to work planning lessons, marking papers and teaching English. Any tips?