Take Me Out to the Ball Game, Kudasai

I’m not sure why I wanted to go so badly. It could have been that ridiculous Tom Selleck movie, Mr. Baseball. Well, on Saturday I finally got my chance to see an honest to goodness Japanese baseball game. It was so much fun! See, for me, the best part of a sporting event is watching the people who are watching the game.


Packed, and ready to go, I left my home at about 7:40 am and made my way to the train station. It wasn’t until shortly after 11 am that my friends and I finally arrived at the Seibu Dome in Tokorozawa, Saitama, home of the Lions. And, even though the game was set to begin at 1 pm, had we been on our own for this outing, we would have arrived way too late for seats.

Lucky for us, we had some co-conspirators on the inside. The trip and ticket purchasing was organized by the JET council in my region. Thankfully, they had the foresight to be there about an hour earlier and were able to grab some space for us to watch the game.

Our tickets, at about $16 a pop, were of the cheapest variety – outfield, general seating, bring your own tarp. The floor was soft rubber green. Very cushy under our bums, but it was sometimes hard to help a slow downwards slide towards the field. Shoes removed, we enjoyed a picnic lunch before the start of the game. We supplemented our food with the ball park fare - Baskin Robins ice cream sandwiches and beer from on-tap backpacks. No peanuts. No crackerjacks. I didn’t spot any hotdogs or nachos either.


The real fans were busy pre-game too. There was a warm up to watch, and players to meet. Some lucky young fans tied long string to jerseys, ball caps, gloves and other gear and went fishing for autographs over the outfield fence.

A quick survey of our surroundings revealed that we were in Giants’ territory. The entire dome was divided in half according to team loyalty. Home team fans on one side, visiting team fans on the other. We were part of the other, a sea of orange and black.

Let’s go Giants!


The game got underway and it suddenly became very clear that we had a job to do. Our section was responsible for cheering for our team. We were loud, boisterous… AND choreographed. That’s right, choreographed.

Standing up on milk crates, at the front of the general seating section were three cheerleaders. The job of these men with whistles and cue cards was to conduct a somewhat rowdy orchestra of fans. A cheer would be announced and the corresponding movements demonstrated enthusiastically. We were told when to stand, when to sit, what to yell and when, and when to stop and move on to the next chant. None of this “the pitcher has a rubber arm” business here. If your boys were up to bat, you were on your feet cheering them on without pause, often at the price of actually being able to pay attention to the game.

There was the traditional scantly clad variety of cheerleaders too, but only for the entertainment of the home team crowd. There were noisemakers, and flags and towels to wave in the air whenever a run was scored.

In the end, our team lost. With the home team victorious, fireworks and streamers shot off. And then, one of the most interesting moments of the whole game. The Lions’ mascots and two players came out to thank their cheering section. Balls were tossed into the crowd and bows were exchanged in gratitude.

I’ve often heard sports fans refer to their favourite team as if they were a part of it. Stuff like, “We won!” Or, “Our defense sucks.” It’s always struck me as odd. But not here. Here, the fans, at least the ones with the cheap tickets, really are a part of the game.


Watch what happened when the Giants scored a run.

Check out more pictures here.

Earthquake!

My heart is racing. And, it’s not the typhoon outside that’s doing it. I am fine with typhoons, I’ve discovered. Just stay dry, and you’re good.

No, it’s the coffee I had today to keep me wide-awake and marking essays all afternoon. I managed to get through the stack of 80 papers easily today, but that’s nothing compared to the 240 exams that are about to hit my desk in less than 48 hours.

The combination of the pounding in my chest and the destructive force outside my window reminded me that I’ve been meaning, for the last couple of weeks, to tell you about our most recent earthquake here. It was, to be succinct, scary.

It was thewee hours of Thursday, May 8th. I was sleeping, as soundly as possible on a rock-hard futon, when I felt the first one. It shook me awake. They always shake me awake. It’s amazing how much sway is added by simply being on the second floor.

To be relaxed is to be warm and heavy; to let your body feel as if it is sinking into the ground, imagining that the earth is cradling you. But, when that earth starts to shake… Well, for me there is nothing more jarring.

It was sometime just after one AM when the first one woke me. The ground was rocking from side to side. I have learned to detect the difference between the up/down of a truck rumbling by and the side-to-side motion of an earthquake even in my sleep. Eyes wide open, I knew it was over and tried to relax. But, not even 10 minutes later, and it was happening again. Well, that did it. I was up and wide awake and needing to do something productive to calm down and relax.

So, I did two things. One smart… the other questionable. I phoned my parents to take advantage of the time difference, and I discovered the website for the Japan Meteorological Agency where I could watch the seismic updates stream in. At 1:45 I was reading about the two quakes (6.3 and 6.2 off the coast to the east of me) and talking about how shaken I was when the room began to quiver again. It felt long. It was long enough for me to say things like, “Oh my God, I think it’s another earthquake.” And, “Everything is shaking.” PAUSE. “It’s still going.” PAUSE. “It’s still going. Everything is really shaking. What do I do?” PAUSE. “Should I go outside? How long should I wait before I go outside?” PAUSE. “Is it over? I can’t tell if the shaking now is the earthquake or just me.” It took me a good hour and something to relax enough to fall back asleep.

That was the biggest and longest earthquake I’ve felt since arriving in Japan. According to the JMA, it was a 6.7, but the epicenter was well off the coast of Ibaraki, the prefecture to the east of Gunma.

And now, having said all that, I can’t even begin to imagine the terror that the poor people in Sichuan are experiencing now. So many people dead. So many missing. And still, the aftershocks continue.

What do you do when the very ground that holds you up is the source of the destruction around you? Where do you go? How do you hide from it?

I could spend a lifetime here in this part of the world, and still never get used to the earthquakes. I miss my home on the stable Canadian Shield.

Cheezucakey

Maybe not magic words, but certainly mystery words. Delicious mystery words.

I’m not sure when it started, Caitlin swears it was mid November, but with some regularity the word “cheesecake” seemed to turn up often in our cooking class.

“Nanni nanni nanni nanni cheezucakey nanni nanni nanni…”

Nanni being the Japanese equivalent, it seems, for “blah,” or blank, or something.

Huh?

At first, we thought it might be some information about an upcoming recipe we would tackle in class. Something like, “Next week, we will be making cheesecake, so please attend.” But with weekly mentions, and no sign of such a dairy dessert, our hopes dampened.

And then, it started coming up in overheard conversations with other students. Perhaps a comparison? “You bake it, just like you would a cheesecake.” Or maybe, “This is easy. It’s not as if we’re making cheesecake.” I'm just guessing here, of course.

The frustration grew. Not knowing much Japanese, people sometimes tend to sound like Charlie Brown’s teachers. “Wah waw wah waw wah waw wah waw...” And then CHEESECAKE! Words I know. But only the words. No cheese, and no cake to be made or eaten. Week after week.

Well finally, after months of name dropping, guess what we made last night? Yes, cheesecake! Cheesecake with peaches and pears and brandy. The thing is sitting in my fridge right now. Only now, after all the suspense and buildup, can it taste half as good at the cheezucakey I’ve been dreaming about all these months? Only one way to find out.

On Ramen

Now that I can read some Japanese, I've discovered something.  

There are a heck of a lot of ramen shops in this country.