GO

Up By 5 am, Again

2008-08-22T18:09:00.004+09:00

This jet-lag stuff is tough this time around. It’s one thing to jump continents, but traveling clear to the other side of the planet has thrown me for a serious loop. It is almost 5 am and I am wide-awake.

Although, I am pretty sure it’s the tummy ache that has me stirring. Maybe I lose the ability to eat fried foods like tempura upon arriving in Japan, and the ability to eat ice cream on my return home.

It's like one of those ridiculous hypothetical questions, “Would you rather never travel the world and enjoy eating all of your favourite foods, or travel but lose the ability to eat something you really enjoy every time you take a flight that is more than 10 hours long until you can only stomach lettuce, dry toast, and green tea?”

Tempura fried ice cream anyone? Forget about it!

I'm Home

2008-08-21T05:25:00.001+09:00

I am in Toronto, Canada. It’s Wednesday here and I arrived late, Monday afternoon.

I would have posted a message sooner, but the 13-hour time difference has kept me pretty much keeled over for the last 48 hours. And, it’s cold here too. Only 22 degrees today, yet everyone still seems to have their air-con cranked. Burrrrrr!

It’s been nice to catch up with family. On Friday, I will make my way to Ottawa and Noah and set myself to the task of finding some sense of normal around here.

So far, I find the rice here to be very inconsistent, the streets amazingly wide, and the beds far too soft. But, the bread is good, the sunsets late, and the ground doesn’t shake, so I guess you win some and lose some in this moving game. I also have the familiar sound of the cicada for consistency.

How The English Club Tried to Kill Me: Saying Goodbye

2008-07-31T02:44:00.018+09:00

On Friday morning, I will wake up, shower, inspect the apartment so that I can be sure I haven’t forgotten anything, and head for the airport.

The last few weeks have been all about goodbyes. My goodbye tour, I call it. Saying goodbye to the city and country that have been my home for the last year and all of the wonderful people I have met. And, it turned out to be very different from the tour I had planned. But, such is life. The girls’ trip to the beach didn’t happen and Fuji remains to be conquered (I was thinking about letting myself be talked into that one.)

Instead, my trip to Kanazawa with my friend Reina was my last far-flung adventure, and plenty of afternoons were spent at the hospital. There is, of course, the packing, but nothing could have changed that.

The first big goodbyes were said on June 27th. This was my last day of classes at Nitta Akatsuki and the teacher and students managed to organize a lovely surprise party complete with singing, snacks, presents, and tears.

After school that day, Maruhashi-sensei’s family hosted a sushi party. Giant platters of the stuff along with freshly, homemade udon noodles. It was so lovely to spend some time with this family. Three generations sharing a meal and laughs together. Just wonderful.

Ota’s city festival was on July 18th and 19th. I wandered the streets on Saturday afternoon watching the food stalls set up and visiting with my friend Minoru, a volunteer organizer for the day. He treated me to shaved ice and yakisoba. As the afternoon cooled off, my friends began arriving and we enjoyed the energy of the night outdoors and in local pubs.

On the Sunday, I headed off to meet my Japanese family, the Ueda women, for some farewell fun in Yokohama and Tokyo. Lunch was our first stop and we went to an all-you-can-eat dessert buffet. Then Chinatown. Then fireworks. But the fireworks ended early for us after the police decided we could no longer sit in the place they had seated us only 20 minutes before. So, we found a fantastic Chinese restaurant and savoured our meal before the crowds descended. We capped off the nigh with cocktails at a hotel bar with a view.

Tuesday was a double-header. At 4 pm, I was in the school cooking room flipping pancakes for students and working up a sweat. By 6:30 pm, I had showered and was running late for a yukata party organized by my cooking school teacher.

Otsuka-sensei had bought me a lovely blue yukata and red obi, along with gaita and the valuable time of a kimono teacher to help me put it all on. The women from my cooking group were there too. And, so was a cable TV cameraman!

The next night was my goodbye work enkai. About 30 of us piled into a second floor Japanese style restaurant for mountains of sashimi and bubbling hot sukiyaki. It was lots of great fun. But, by the end, I was too tired to go out and enjoy the second party.

One day of rest. The official goodbyes at school were Friday. There was a speech for teachers and staff and a big goodbye address to the whole school, which for some reason I forced myself to attempt in Japanese. It was nerve-wracking and incredibly hot. I think some of the students actually melted away. In my dress clothes, I was dripping with sweat and trying desperately to imagine life in an igloo. I survived the day. And, at four o’clock, a raucous thunderstorm helped wash away some of the stress and sadness.

Saturday was full of laughter. I ended up smack, in the middle of Japan, or so the people of Shibukawa claim, for the annual Heso Matsuri (Bellybutton Festival.) ALTs from all over the prefecture turned out and we took turns wishing each other well before setting off on our separate ways.

Sunday was lunch with my good friends in Ota, Minoru and Tsugio Urano. We went to a little café in the city centre and then sipped homemade ume juice at their home just chatting and swapping travel stories.

On Tuesday morning at 10:15, the English club threw a party in my honour. It was a candy party and we laughed and played games while indulging in all things sugar. At one point, I was instructed to mix a candy concoction. It turned colours and grew into a foaming mass of purple goo. I was then told to eat some, and so I did. It was awful! And I suddenly recalled the time my sister and I tricked my aunt into eating a fizzy candy. Oh, how the tables turn. But, I survived. And it was so touching to know that some students felt so strongly about my time with them. I am going to miss them a lot.

Tomorrow night is a little sushi party with friends.

I met my successor, packed up my stuff, gave up my bike, and will soon be on my way. I have so many memories to take will with me. I am a very lucky person.

(P.S. A couple of large cockroaches also came by to wish me well, but I put a stop to that by patching up the hole in the bathroom wall. YUCK!)

It’s HAWT!

2008-07-14T23:16:00.004+09:00

The temperature climbs to about 35 degrees Celsius daily and I have become addicted to air-conditioning, a concept I normally hate.

I walked in the door about half an hour ago, exchanging the wretched and buggy humidity outside, for a hot and stuffy apartment. I stripped down, cranked the air, doused myself in cold water and downed several glasses of ice cold water (I normally avoid cold drinks along with air con.)

Giant and LOUD insects are taking over the city and I’m renewing my commitment to freeze my garbage to keep the toasty apartment from stinking up while I’m working at school.

Speaking of which, there is air conditioning in the staffroom, but that’s basically it. The fans are cranked and the widows are opened wide in the hopes of generating a little breeze. But then, there’s the giant insect issue again as the indoors and outdoors merge. Only, the students are less than eager to share their classrooms and lessons are suspended while bees, and even butterflies, find their way out.

Tuesday and Wednesday are sports days at school. The students will be exerting themselves in this unbearable heat.

Oh, and it gets hotter. Last year, the region of Gunma, Japan that I call home hit about 46 degrees. It was the hottest place in Japan – hotter even, than the southern prefecture of Okinawa.

This year, I have the advantage of warming up with the weather. Maybe it’s a little less of a shock to the system this way. Maybe.

But you know, the one consolation I have is that I’m not alone in my suffering. Even people here from hot countries like Trinidad and South Africa admit that the heat here is pretty intense. So there! See, it has nothing to do with me being Canadian, even if my students are shocked to learn that we get warm temperatures in the double digits. Now, where is that ice pillow…?

An Update…

2008-07-14T00:47:00.000+09:00

Yeah, so I disappeared there for a bit again. Not as bad as the April blackout, but still a lengthy hiatus. Sorry.

There are reasons that I haven’t been blogging as much as I, and perhaps you, would like. (Yeah, I flatter myself, I know.) Usually, the whole blogging thing gets backlogged if I am over-busy, or over-stressed. And, given that I am getting packed and ready to make my way home to Canada in a few short weeks, that definitely applies. But only to a degree.

This time, the biggest reason from my not writing was that I just didn’t know how to even begin describing a real-life nightmare.

Exactly two weeks ago, a good friend of mine here in Ota was riding her bicycle when she was hit by a truck. It was a Monday afternoon.

But, it wasn’t until about 9 am the next morning when I learned of the accident by cell phone text message. I bust into tears in the school staffroom. And it took an entire eight hours after that before some of her friends were able to work our way into the ICU just so we could hold her hand.

The last two weeks have been a blur, an absolutely heart wrenching blur. And everything, everything, everything has become a second priority. Packing for home, eating and sleeping, cleaning my apartment, even my lesson plans have taken a bit of a hit, which I feel horrible about.

I will spare you the details of all that has been going on around here. I will spare you the litany of emotions I have experienced.

What I will say is that now I actually feel ready to mention this and, perhaps, even get some sleep. My friend has been recovering little by little. She finally opened her eyes this weekend. And somehow, having that good news to report, I am finally able to tell you what happened.

(P.S. Thank you to my family and friends for your love and support. A little bit of strength from loved ones at home goes a long way towards being able to support those who need it most here.)

Sixtieth

2008-06-21T00:13:00.008+09:00

This is post number 60: an anniversary of sorts. And now that I am in contact with my successors, and getting ready to move my life yet again, it seems like a good time for some reflection.

Things I accomplished:
- Coming to Japan - I am so happy to have followed through on this dream. I truly believe that everyone should experience living in a different country at least once.
- All that I have learned - Whether was developing a teaching style, or exploring new places, or even discovering new things that I really enjoy, I have learned a lot over the last ten and a half months.
- Re-learning how to ride a bike - It is possibly the closest feeling there is to flying.
- Learning to cook Japanese food
- Maintaining a strong relationship with Noah
- Living truly on my own for the first time in my life
- New friendships

Things I regret:
- Not learning much Japanese - I intended to but found there was just too much to juggle.
- Not finding the clear vision I was looking for about what to do with my life
- Missing important life events with people at home
- Not doing and learning enough art here - I wish I could have had time to learn woodblock printing or Japanese pottery or drumming. I go to the Ikebana club from time to time, but I am at a loss to understand what is going on.
- Not climbing Mt. Fuji - No time, and no energy
- Getting sick when Erin came to visit
- Living in a Leopalace - This is only an occasional regret. Sure, it’s not traditional and there is no tatami… but its clean and comfortable.
- Forgetting my camera on days like today
- Not seeing monkeys with Noah
- Not blogging and writing more about my experiences
- Having to go home (rejoicing and regretting)
- Buying pineapple wine - Now I need an occasion to drink it and I don't know when or how I will get a chance.

Things I will miss about Japan:
- My new friends here
- Riding the trains and watching the beautiful scenery go by
- Riding my bike on the sidewalk
- Having my own little apartment
- Feeling like a celebrity and those jaw dropped looks I get when my students spot me outside of school.
- My students
- The flowing green rice fields and the mountain backdrop
- Lots of delicious Japanese food
- Having a good, steady job
- The sense of safety and security I have here
- Exploration and discovery
- Onsen!
- A given price is the total cost… taxes are accounted for and tipping isn’t done
- It’s so clean!

Things I will be glad to leave behind:
- The feeling of illiteracy and dealing with language barriers
- Having to carry large wads of cash and remember to hit the bank before the weekend
- The more rigid gender roles that exist in Japan
- Hierarchy
- The loss of anonymity (I still can’t believe the post office called my school. Twice!)
- Sticky, sticky humidity
- Being told I have a “small face”, whatever that means
- Being a foreigner
- Winter without indoor, central heating
- Really big bugs and random snakes
- Needing help to do simple things, like reading a bus schedule

Things I miss about home:
- Noah!
- My family and friends
- Plentiful and cheap fruit!
- Conversations about politics and other important issues
- Central heating
- Cultural diversity
- Favoruite foods cooked by the people I love

Things I am worried about dealing with when I get home:
- Re-learning how to share a home with someone
- Having to move apartments… or not move…either way
- Being in Ottawa
- Making a plan
- Food portions - I know this sounds silly, but I don’t want to go back to North American servings.
- Being misunderstood or misunderstanding others

A Symphony of Frogs

2008-06-12T22:56:00.007+09:00

It rained today. Not something unusual considering it is the rainy season here now. The rice paddies are flooded with just the tops of new plants peaking out above the water.

And, at night, the paddies come alive.

A chorus of frogs is making good use of the little paddy at the end of my block. And, on nights like this one, their songs fill the humid night air. They sing me to sleep.

I wanted to share with you a true audible pleasure. Please listen to the the video.

10 Food Facts for People Moving to Japan

2008-06-09T21:39:00.002+09:00

1. Japanese food is not what you think (well, not ONLY what you think.) Ask a person in Japan what he thinks we like to eat in Canada/America and he’ll likely tell you hamburgers, fries, pizza and cola. Well, yeah we do eat these things, but also so much more. The same can be said for Japanese food. Yes, you will find sushi, rice and noodles, but the Japanese have lots of wonderful, creative dishes. (And not so wonderful ideas.) For example, did you know curry is a popular Japanese food?

2. Japanese food is, on average, oilier and fattier than you think. Lots of things are deep-fried. Mayonnaise is a staple. Milk is often whole. Don’t believe the myth that you’ll lose weight living in Japan. It may be the opposite. Try to follow the lead of the people in Japan and limit your serving sizes to balance things out.

3. The Japanese take their food very seriously. And, it shows. Every region, and every town has its own specialty. Japan is a land of gourmet. In fact, according to the latest Michelin Restaurant guide to Tokyo, Japan’s capital has more top ranking eateries than Paris.

4. You can find most of your favourite foods at the grocery store. Some things may be a bit tricky to locate, but it’s just about all here. And, if you live near an international store of some kind, you may be able to get lots of your favorites from home. Some exceptions, however: good, crunchy peanut butter made with JUST peanuts; zucchinis; Macintosh apples and, big green peppers. Other things can be found, but are either difficult to track down, just don’t taste the same, or are very expensive. This includes things like fresh basil, hard cheeses, button mushrooms, pickles, olives, pita, etc.

5. Yes, food here is expensive. It may take you a little while to find the good, local food shops, but once you do, you will discover that it can often times be cheaper to eat out than eat at home. With rising food prices globally, and food disputes with China, lots of groceries are pretty pricey. Still, it is important to eat a good mix of food including fresh fruits and veggies, so budget and plan ahead. Oh, and if you do spend ten times as much for some strawberries, for example, you may actually find they are ten times as good as anything else you've ever tasted.

6. Carbs are in, fiber is out. Raw vegetables are not a large part of Japanese cuisine. Most vegetables are either cooked or pickled. This may throw your tummy for a bit of a loop, so try to remember and make an effort to eat healthy.

7. You will need help at the grocery store, and you will make mistakes. Don’t be afraid to confirm with another shopper to be sure you have the right kind of soy sauce, flour, or seaweed product. Don’t worry if your chocolate treat turns out to be read bean, or your mint ice cream is really green tea. It happens to the best of us. Try signing up for a cooking class to learn your way around the grocery store and the Japanese kitchen.

8. You will find new and delicious things you will absolutely love and miss. Things like yuzu, soyjoy bars, burdock, and black sesame and honey paste will one day be long lost favourites.

9. Being a vegetarian is a challenge. Just because there is a strong history of Buddhist influence, doesn't mean you’ll find lots of vegetarian treats. Lots of things are made with fish stock, so be careful. And for the vegans, you’ll find soymilk and tofu easily enough, but not soy cheese or soy ice cream. Allergies can also be difficult to manage for the same reason. And, new foods sometimes lead to the discovery of new allergies. For example, one young woman found out the hard way that wasabi causes her to projectile vomit.

10. Try, taste, and explore. There are so many things to taste in Japan. Many things are seasonal or local delicacies. If you don’t try things when you get the chance, it may be too late. Try the bitter goya in Okinawa, and the lavender ice cream in Hokkaido. Pick up persimmons in the fall, fresh mochi for new years and sakura treats in the spring. And, most of all, savour the experience.

Japan's Parliament Recognizes Ainu as Indigenous People

2008-06-09T08:06:00.002+09:00

As part of my work at my Friday visit school, I've been asked to do some social studies lectures on my country, Canada. I have about 30 minutes to try and get some very simple information across about a large and complicated country. Even so, I made it a priority to talk about the First Nations.

I present a very basic overview. I show samples of art and talk about the fact that these were people who lived on Turtle Island long before the Europeans came. And, I don't gloss over things. I know I am an ambassador of sorts for Canada, but that doesn't mean I can't mention the bad with the good. So, I tell them about genocide, and residential schools and poverty. I also talk about the struggle for change and show them a brief video of last year's day of action in Ottawa. I tell the students that things are changing, but slowly.

"Well, at least Canada is doing something," one English teacher said in response to my presentation. His remark was in reference to the struggles of the Ainu, Japan's indigenous people in Hokkaido. It was only three days ago that their status was officially recognized by the Japanese government. It's a first step.

Read more about it here.

Mascot Mania

2008-06-04T23:09:00.002+09:00

Okay, let me just preface by saying I am NOT making this up. There are a lot of things around here that I sometime feel should start with that disclaimer. This is a good one. And, it’s not because this is a stupid or strange idea. It is a matter of just plain ol’ cultural difference.

Where I come from, we don’t seem to have as many mascots, and we don’t seem to go for all things cute… as much. Yeah, we do logos, but we don’t need a character for everything. Then again, Japan may be ahead of us and this is just an indication of what’s to come for folks at home (I say this having read about the trends in branding that developed here during the Edo period.)

Here it is… Japan’s new lay-judges have their very own mascot. He’s a giant, green parakeet. Look how cute!

The justice minister apparently donned the costume at the official announcement this week.

Now, I don’t know exactly what the lay-judge program is all about, but surely, Saiban-inko, as the giant bird is know, will help me with that problem. That’s his job.

I was reading this story in the newspaper over lunch in the staff room today and could not contain my laughter. How odd, it seemed to me to have Big Bird as a judicial mascot. “What is it?” a teacher asked in Japanese. The thing is, to me this is hilarious. To him, it’s just the way it is, and it isn’t really all that funny.

A Rainy Afternoon

2008-06-01T01:26:00.009+09:00

Taking a break from my piles of homework, I decided to for a bike ride this afternoon in the rain. We’re just starting the rainy season here and I’ve been told to expect wet weather of various types for the next few weeks. It was tempting to stay dry, and indoors, but I ventured out none the less.

I stopped first at a lovely shrine complex near my house and behind a luxury hotel. It is a fox shire and very opulent compared to others in Ota. A large torii gate at the front, beautiful red lanterns and lush trees. There’s even a small ice cream shop, although I didn’t treat myself today.

Instead, I decided I would bike north along the river and check off something else from my Japan to do list. Ten months in Japan, and I still had yet to taste my first Mos Burger. I went for the chicken teriyaki burger with a small order of fries and a melon cola to wash it down. It was fine.

My last stop was more investigative.

For weeks now, I have been passing this very odd scene on the bus ride to my visit school each Friday. A beautiful grey stone building with these large red and rusted doors. And next to it, a graveyard of sorts. Large, ceramic dogs, shattered and strewn around a parked van. But why?

A collection, perhaps. Or a practical joke. Maybe it is some kind of an elaborate anti-theft device. Strange and eerie, regardless.

More pictures here.

Take Me Out to the Ball Game, Kudasai

2008-05-26T00:18:00.009+09:00

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!

2008-05-19T23:22:00.004+09:00

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

2008-05-17T00:13:00.003+09:00

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

2008-05-15T23:16:00.003+09:00

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

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

Japanese plumbing sucks... but it doesn’t drain very well

2008-03-25T01:42:00.009+09:00

Warning: this post isn't for the squeamish. If you're the kind of person who can't even scoop the gunk out of the stopper in your kitchen sink, I suggest you stop reading now.

Still there? Okay, but don't say I didn't warn you.

This past Sunday I discovered a whole new world. A multi-coloured world... of mould. Yes, mould. Let's see, we had grey, greenish-grey, blue, black, blue-black, orange, pink, and -- get ready for it -- a gooey, putrid white the likes of which I have never seen before.

Where was this kaleidoscope land? In my bathroom; the drains mostly.

Before I go on, I should say that I am not a messy or dirty person. I keep my apartment tidier than most, and I clean regularly. It's just that I can't keep up with the plumbing here. In fact, it is quite possibly the one thing I truly HATE about my home in Japan.

I am used to certain things in a drain. I am used to metal pipes. I am used to airlocks and actual drainage. I am not used to plastic pipes with interlocking pieces that come apart and provide little nooks for things to grow. I am not used to constant pools of water that keep things wet and moist and collect scum just under where I stand to brush my teeth everyday. I am not used to coming home from a holiday and smelling strange stinks because things have grown due to a lack of running water. Appetizing, huh?

I spent at least two hours just cleaning the drains in my bathroom this weekend. There are three. The sink and the tub both connect to a larger one in the middle of the floor.

The tub drain was the easiest to take care of. I keep a filter on it to prevent hair from going down, so it just needed a good scrub. There was some mould inside, but it was all reachable with my sponge.

The sink drain was horrible. I removed the little metal filter with my fingers, only to discover a horrid, white slime. It was inside the drain, coating two strange holes on the sides, just before the main pipe. It was almost a centimetre thick in some parts, smelly and it covered some more familiar blue-black stuff underneath. I had to scoop it out with my sponge. Gag!

The main drain was horrendous. I could see the black stuff around the top and lifted out the top cover to give it a good scrub, as I normally do. I was tipped off just days earlier to the fact that the drain could actually be taken apart even further and so after some investigating, I found that I could twist and lift the inner cylinder out. I was almost sorry I did. Inside, was the pool of never draining water full of grey sludge, and hair, and other things best left unidentified. The exterior of the cylinder was covered in some flaky grey stuff I could chip off. All of the pieces were given a good soak and scrub. Anything that looked like it could be scooped out was, and tossed in a garbage bag. I threw in several drain cleaning tablets and prayed.

My bathroom is sparkling clean now. But only for a few minutes, I'm sure.

Strawberry Fields Forever

2008-03-25T01:15:00.008+09:00

Ever have strawberries for lunch? And no, I don't mean a few on the side, or added to a salad, or even baked in a pie. I mean just strawberries. Plump and juicy, plucked fresh. And, all you can eat.

Apparently, it's a thing in Japan. People go "strawberry picking" here. But they don't really mean picking. They mean eating, devouring, stuffing-your-face-to-the-point-of-nearly-vomiting.

Okay, I may be making it sound bad. It's not. It's lots of strange and confusing fun. Basically, you pay a flat fee (prices differ depending on the time of year), and you have 30 minutes to wander around a greenhouse and eat as many berries as you possibly can. I managed about 36 -- it's a rough number because I was laughing so hard, I kept forgetting to count.

Number one was so juicy and sweet. Amazing! Two to 17 were average, some sweeter than others, but all generally good. 18 to 22 were superb! Strawberry 28 was the best I've ever tasted. I thought 31 would be my last, but then the condensed milk arrived and so I had 5 more for dessert.

Kirei Japan

2008-03-25T00:17:00.007+09:00

Maybe it's because I came expecting to find beauty that it seems to appear everywhere in Japan. But, it's not always in the most likely places. Yes, Miyajima, Matsushima and Nikko were pretty, but it is the momentary glimpses that are the most breathtaking.

A full moon with a misty halo hanging above the school soccer field. A bright red torii gate just beyond a turn in the road. White cranes in a green rice field set against the jagged mountains, grey in the distance. Even the cabbages with their outer leaves tied up in librarian-style looking buns are endearing.

Yesterday, Reina and I were biking to the train station. "ORANGES!" she yelled as we turned a corner. And there, over a dull, stone wall, hundreds of bright spheres and lush green leaves filled the sky.

My favourite is the persimmons in late fall. Dark, gnarled trees, looking lifeless after having shed all their leaves, with plump, orange globes hanging from every branch.

Now, I watch as other knotty trees spring to life. White, and pink, and fuchsia blossoms like Christmas lights cover every limb and infuse the air with their sweet perfume.

I can hardly wait to see what tomorrow will bring.

On Japanese Plumbing

2008-03-18T17:44:00.004+09:00

Question: How do you know when the bathroom is overdue for a cleaning?

Answer: When whatever it is that lives in the drains starts to show its face outside.
Oy, what is that?!?!?!

おしりかじり虫 !

2008-03-14T00:55:00.018+09:00

Name: Oshiri Kajiri Mushi
Translation: Bottom Biting Bug
Ocupation: Biting bums

Occupation? Okay, go with it. Everyone else here seems to. And really, it is pretty fun stuff. The bug-eyed guy with the four sharp teeth for chomping on ass seems fairly popular here right now.

I was first compelled to find out more about this creature because of one teacher who sits across for me in the staff room who is constantly singing the first bit of this ditty in a super cutesy voice. It got me curious.

A friend posted this link weeks ago on Facebook and I had been sharing this video there, but it just didn't feel like enough. So, here it is for all the folks back home - a taste of what is cool in Japan. (Well, this and those great green sweatshirts that say, "Passing Fad" on them.)

I will also post a link for a website with some information about the origins of this little monster. It's a cute story about a husband and wife team and their kitchen encounter.

Check out the PingMag story.

Monkeys!

2008-03-10T22:18:00.008+09:00

I recall a deep, philosophical question once posed by a group of musically inclined young lads while pondering the possible ways in which large sums of money could be spent to promote amorous relations. I believe the exact words were, “Haven’t you always wanted a monKEY?”

Hey, who hasn’t? Cute and loveable, almost like mini versions of human beings. Trouble too, mind you, but that’s all part of the fun.

Realistically though, owning a monkey is probably not a good idea for most of us. It’s probably a very, very bad idea. So, the next best thing is socializing with monkeys in a snowy mountaintop setting.

“Where can you do this?” you ask. In Nagano, Japan.

On Saturday, I joined Caitlin, the queen of day trips, and two other friends for a trek to Yudanaka to see wild snow monkey’s at the monkey onsen. It was quite the journey. It was long, and a tad costly too.

Local trains from Ota to Takasaki (with a switch in Isesaki) – 700 yen
Bullet train from Takasaki to Nagano city – 4,410 yen
Local train to Yudanaka – 1,230 yen
Bus to Monkey Park – 250 yen

That’s 6,590 yen one way, or almost $64 Canadian. But hey, how else can you hang out with monkeys? And the ticket in to the Jigokudani (Monkey) Park was only 500 yen.

The truth is, I am not the best candidate for such an adventure. I am slightly afraid of most animals, including my cat some of the time. I freaked out for about 3 weeks this past July after Noah made me hand-feed a squirrel that scratched me.

But the monkeys were amazing! Even spotting them in the distance was a thrill. These lucky little monkeys managed a long time ago to take over a natural onsen and spend their winters soaking in hot water and being on display for tourists of all kinds.

I couldn’t believe how close you could get to these little creatures. You could see the wrinkles on their knuckles, their sunburned faces, the pinpoint pupils in their yellow eyes. And teeth. Despite all my attempts to stay safe, I managed to provoke an aggressive little guy into snarls and a wide-mouthed display of his chompers. I escaped unscathed. (Well, except for the giant bruise on my backside from the fall I took on the icy path back to the bus stop.)

You’re not allowed to actually reach out and touch the monkeys but they are allowed to touch people. Every once in a while a baby would poke a tourist or even leap up and latch on hoping for a bite of button or some other snack-like accessory. My friends handled this well. I don’t know that I would have.

http://www.jigokudani-yaenkoen.co.jp/livecam/monkey/index.htm - This link should take you to a live camera of the monkey onsen.

Here are some more pictures of this winter adventure.

On Daikon

2008-03-06T22:41:00.004+09:00

How do you know when this root is ready to be harvested and devoured? These veggies seem to communicate in not so subtle ways that they’ve had it with their soiled home.

And, if you leave them long enough, your daikon might just get up and walk away.

A pain in the mouth

2008-03-02T22:39:00.002+09:00

Ah, relief, mixed with confusion, mixed with fatigue.

I finally made it all the way to Takasaki yesterday to see the dentist. I was up at a good hour, rode my bike in the sunshine and didn’t get lost on my walk from the station to her office.

The dentist was friendly, professional and quick. Cheap too. It was less than my last appointment.

On arrival, I explained the cracked tooth situation and how the filling came out, etc. and relayed the advice of my dentist. What was strange is the fact that she seemed reluctant to do anything. I had to tell her several times that it hurts when I eat before she decided to fill something with the recommended filler. I found this odd because my dentist at home seemed to think a cracked tooth is pretty serious business and warned me to take action in order to avoid a root canal.

The dentist here explained that the crack was very small and on the corner of my tooth… again strange because I was told it was a risk of splitting to the nerve, no just resulting in a little chip off the side.

I was told to be careful. Apparently, without drilling a deeper hole, which she didn’t want to do because she didn’t want to remove any of my enamel, the filling is just, kinda resting there. Hmm, so maybe this is why the last one fell out after all and it had nothing to do with the quality of the work. Could it have been my fault over-doing the flossing?

The other thing is, and it will take a few days for me to decide if it was just my imagination or not, my tooth may have hurt just the tiniest little bit when I was eating breakfast this morning. Just a mini pinch.

But, you know what? Regardless, I have had enough with dentists here. I am giving up. It’s simply too difficult to try and communicate about this. So, whether it’s the actual crack that was looked after, or some wee chip on the side, I don’t care… along as most of me gets home in one piece.

So, I went with friends to Kawagoe today. It’s a city famous for it’s candy. Take that teeth!

Click here for photos from my trip to Kawagoe and other spring outings.

Cracked tooth, broken dream

2008-03-01T02:10:00.002+09:00

Okay, no broken dreams here. I made that title up just for effect. And, I thought it was a pretty good segue from my last post. Unfortunately, the bit about the cracked tooth is true.

I have strange teeth. Aside from the fact that they are a little small for my head, I mean. Not a single cavity to date in my adult set of teeth, but they chip and break and do annoying things like that. (And yes, before anyone starts theorizing about the reason for this, I do grind my teeth a little and my dentist at home takes good care of me.)

A few years ago I actually managed to crack a tooth. It was a molar on the lower, left side, one from the back. A quick trip to the dentist and I was patched up as good as almost new and on my way again.

Fast forward to Japan, January 2008.

Ouch!

I’m eating and I have a quick, sharp pain on the left side. Strangely reminiscent of something, but what? It happens when I bite down on things with little grainy bits, like sugar crystals, or salt and pepper, or even curry powder. I find myself peering, with gapping jaw, into mirrors and worrying.

Around the same time my friend Bahia loses a crown and is talking lots about finding a dentist here in Japan. I can’t put this tooth thing out of my mind. I decide to get it checked out.

“I have a problem,” I tell my supervisor one Thursday. I tell him I have a toothache and I need help finding a dentist. I arrange for my friend Reina to join me as my interpreter and my supervisor books me in for an appointment after work on Monday.

My attempts to get lost on the way to the dental clinic are futile and Reina and I arrive five minutes early. We fill out the requisite paperwork and wait. Once in the chair, the dentist checks things out, does a quick x-ray and tells me I have a filling in the tooth I am complaining about. That, and a little redness around the gums, but he figures a quick touchup of the filling and I should be in good shape. A little polishing; a touch of drilling so light, it was more like sanding; and a tiny dab of filing stuff, and I am sent on my way. Thanks to a great insurance policy, it only costs me about $16 out of pocket. To thank Reina, and test out the repair, I treat to sushi.

Later that night I start on my regular bedtime routine. PJs, check; e-mail, check; bathroom, check; brushing, check; drink of water, check; flossing… Flossing doesn’t go so well. See, where the little dental touchup was done, I can’t get the floss in between the teeth.

Just… a… little… pushing… and… THERE!

I get the floss in and struggle to get it back out. And, when it finally does come out, it brings white stuff out with it. Meh, it could just be some residue that got packed in there. No worries. The next day I inform my supervisor that everything is great in the tooth department.

Ouch!

Oh god, the pain is back. I am embarrassed. I don’t want to go back to my supervisor for help, or bother Reina again because she’s very busy. Maybe it’s all in my head.

Ouch!

Nope, it’s real. I tell my parents about the problem and ask them to check with my dentist at home to confirm about the location of this old, cracked tooth. My memory is fuzzy and I want to be sure I’m not imagining things. Sure enough, it’s the cracked molar from years ago. This isn’t good. And, I manage to worry my parents sufficiently enough that they decide to mail me a small tube of toothpaste from home that arrives at school in an envelope filled with bubble wrap and oozy, gooey toothpaste. My desk smells minty fresh now.

Tomorrow will be attempt number two. I’ve decided to try Bahia’s English speaking dentist in Takasaki. I am going armed with better knowledge of what the problem actually is this time, and some treatment recommendations from my favourite dentist back home. I am hopping on the train and devoting an entire Saturday to looking after this annoying tooth.

Oh, and did I mention I am slightly afraid of visiting dentists, particularly new ones? That’s why I am still up at 2:00 writing about this rather than sleeping. And, I’m pondering… Is the “Fluoriguard” in my made-for-Japan Colgate anything like real fluoride?

Japan Odelia VS. Ottawa Odelia

2008-02-29T00:41:00.007+09:00

I remember going on an organized trip to Israel and feeling bullied into choosing one identity over another. “What are you first?” was the question we were asked to answer. “Human,” I said. I am a woman, a Canadian, a Jew, a journalist, a teacher (for now), a loving partner, a daughter, a sister, a friend… etc. Yes, it is true that each one of us has a variety of identities and, sometimes even, different qualities or traits to go with each. Sometimes our identities are based on our ancestry, our politics, or our relationships with others. They can also be based on geographic location.

When Noah was here in Japan, he pointed out how much he liked “Japan Odelia”: How much positive energy I have, assertiveness, willingness to explore, and even a newfound ability to ride a bicycle. Yes, I like me here too.

“Ottawa Odelia” is very different. “Please,” he said. “Can it be Japan Odelia who comes back to Ottawa?”

I don’t like Ottawa Odelia. In Ottawa, I am isolated, lonely, dependent, confused, stressed, incompetent, bored, etc. All of this makes me depressed and angry, which in turn makes me mean and cranky, which results in further isolation, and therefore more loneliness, confusion, stress, incompetence, boredom, etc. Get the picture? Yeah. It’s cost me dearly. And, despite this, I am pretty much thinking about returning there and possibly staying on more permanently – oh, the things we do for love.

But, I don’t like who I am there for the reasons stated above. And, although I am trying not to be, I am sad about the fact that I gave up so much to go there. It was totally willingly, mind you. But in the process of moving, I left behind my family, my work, my friends, my own little radio show, my contacts, my independence, and more. Some of these things may be rebuilt over time, but others are gone for good.

I keep trying to think of ways to make the situation in Ottawa better. What do I need to do or find in order to be happy? How can I make this poison in my heart into medicine? I was hoping to find the answers in Japan. If anything, this experience has made it that much clearer to me that Ottawa doesn’t feel like my home. The thought of returning there is depressing. And, I still don’t have the answers I was looking for.

So now, I am thinking about how I might be able to buy more time. I am thinking it might involve drastic change and breaking my own heart by giving up on something I have dreamed about since I was a child.

I’ve been exploring some other options and invitations. These opportunities might mean I wouldn’t have to return to my boring life in Ottawa, just yet or for long. These opportunities might lead to more travel and chances to live aboard. But I don’t know if that is realistic, responsible or even possible. I must make choices.

One opportunity is far more exciting to others than it is to me. It’s an opportunity I am 100 per cent unsure about. It’s an opportunity that would cost me money. The funny thing is, even though I am far less sure about wanting this than I was about coming to Japan, I know it comes with status and so even if I would be biding my time with this option, few would dare criticize me for doing so. It promises safety, if not happiness.

And Japan Odelia, while she has a lot to share with and teach Ottawa Odelia, exists only in Japan.

♥ It’s Valentine’s Day! ♥

2008-02-14T18:10:00.004+09:00

You know, I thought I would be miserable and sad today, all alone and with Noah on the other side of the world. But, I discovered something. Teachers have it best on Valentine’s Day. Especially here in Japan where the gift of choice is chocolate, homemade if you’ve got it. (Can you tell I’m on a bit of a sugar high?)

I managed quite the haul too: four bundles of homemade sweets, one chocolate square, three random tastings of other treats in the halls and 12 Valentine’s Day cards.

Here’s what the students wrote to me:

- HAPPY VALENTINE!! Thank you for your English lesson. Buy the way, Do you like chocolate? I love chocolate and like cooking sweets. I made chocolate for Valentine’s day yesterday. It is very delicious!! So I’m very happy now.

- Happy Valentine’s Day – Your secret Admirer

- Happy Valentine’s Day! I love you ♥ Let’s have tea time again! Bye

- Happy Valentine’s Day! You are very funny. Please remember Japanese! I study English, too!

- Happy Valentine’s Day! Give me chocolate!

- Happy Valentine’s Day! My walth is meeting you. My feel to you is between like and love.

- Roses are red, and violets are blue. chocolate is sweet but not as sweet as you ♥

- Happy Valentine’s Day!! You are special teacher for me! I want to know more about you.

- Happy Valentine’s Day! I like your English class very much. I’m enjoying them. I hope to see more of you.

- Happy Valentine’s Day! I’m very pleasure to meet you. I respect you. I hope to see more of you.

- Happy Valentine’s Day! You are special to me because you are great teacher. I want to talk in English with you. But I can’t speak English well. So, I will study hard two grade. and I will talk happily with you.

- Happy Valentine’s Day! B.T.F. you are special to me because your’s English class is fun. Class on Feburuary 12 is very fun.

(B.T.F. stands for “Best Teacher Forever.” I taught them B.F.F. for their cards.)

To be fair, my card count is probably partly due to the fact that the cards were all made in my classes, as part of a lesson on the holiday. Valentines aren’t popular here. (For some reason, I got it into my head that it would be fun – fun? – to collect and redistribute hundreds of cards from first and second year students. I seem to recall this being a project the entire student council used to organize when I was a kid. Yeah, I’m a little crazy.)

But still, I enjoyed it. And, it’s so nice to be loved!

Yuki Matsuri

2008-02-13T22:18:00.015+09:00

I am cold. I am FREEZING. I am sitting on the floor, wrapped in a blanket, typing and shivering. The space heater is about as close as it can be without my hair catching fire and I still can’t seem to warm up. And, while most of me is just plain cold, my right hand is an actual block of ice. Oh, and I am at home in Ota, central Japan. I am here and I am dreaming of the warmth of northern Sapporo.

Sapporo was wonderful! Last weekend, I met up with my friend Sonia and another ALT from her town for the famous, annual Yuki Matsuri (snow festival) in the prefecture of Hokkaido.

I am going to pause my story here for a moment to apologize. I would like to say sorry to all of the ALTs I said were crazy for requesting a northern placement. After seeing this part of the country for myself, I now totally understand why you would want to live here. In fact, I think you are so very lucky to be able to experience such a beautiful part of Japan.

Hokkaido is romanticized by the Japanese. My students write fairytale stories about falling in love, marrying and moving to this nature rich part of the country. As for me, I only had a few days to enjoy this winter wonderland.

My plane touched down just outside of Sapporo at about 10 am on Friday morning. It was a bit of a crazy trip that began with a 4 am cycle to the station, followed by a sweltering bus ride through snarled Tokyo traffic, and included a mad dash to make the flight. By 11:15, I was at the tourist office collecting maps and other goodies. And at 12:30, my friend Sonia and Heidi arrived at out downtown hotel.

Immediately, we began touring, and tasting. Our first stop was for a big bowl of delicious and fresh ramen noodles from a famous alleyway lined with closet-sized shops.

Next, we walked to Odori Park to check out the snow and ice sculptures. Some walking, then straight up the TV Tower for a view of the city as large flakes of fluffy snow drifted down. A little more Odori Park. Next, we made our way to the Tokei-dai, a famous clock tower in the heart of Sapporo with a small civic museum.

Back to the hotel for a short rest and to add some clothing layers, and we were off again. Our evening destination was the Sapporo Beer Factory. We were looking for THE Beer Garden restaurant, but we settled for A Beer Garden after discovering a multitude of choices. We downed some premium beer and grilled slices of fresh lamb and vegetables at our table. Each diner was served a bib to keep clean and a large plastic bag to cover our coats and bags with in an attempt to keep everything we own from absorbing the juicy smell of the meat.

A little more Odori Park, a few ice sculptures, and a hot drink and we were ready to call it a night.

The next day was our chance to explore a little further out. In the morning, we took a bus to another part of the festival fun. It was mostly for kids, but we gladly got in on the fun by plunging down an icy inner tube hill and getting lost in a giant snow maze.

Our next destination was the city of Otaru. It was stunning. Otaru is a beautiful, old city with a romantic canal and intriguing brick warehouses, many now occupied by glass artists. After dark, the city put on a breathtaking display of glass and snow lanterns. I had never seen a snow lantern before. It’s just a cylinder of packed snow with a candle stuck in the centre. The orange glow is subtle and warm.

On Sunday morning, we climbed aboard a downtown streetcar and up a mountain via ropeway. Then into a bus that had triangles where round wheels should have been. It gripped and packed the snow as it transported us to the observatory. The view from Mt. Moiwa was spectacular. Blue, blue sky, not a cloud in sight. The snowy mountains to our left, the city reaching out to the distant shore on our right.

A few last sights before it was time to go. We explored the red brick government building with its free museum inside. And, I enjoyed a hot bowl of curry soup before the long journey south to my frosty home in Ota.

My nose is cold. Toes too. Warm thoughts, warm thoughts, warm thoughts…

Take a look at some photos from the trip.

Noah’s Visit

2008-02-03T23:11:00.001+09:00

My aunt Julie phoned me today. It’s such a treat to get a phone call or a hand written letter from friends and family back home. Julie is my number one pen pal, but she seldom calls.

“How was Noah’s visit?” she asked. “Why didn’t you write anything about his trip?”

I’m not sure. I’ve been busy, but this past week has been good. Have I been a little lazy? Maybe.

I think the truth is that Noah’s visit really feels more like a dream now. It has since he left Ota. It’s hard to recall and articulate dreams. But, here goes.

I am so happy to be in Japan. It’s been a wonderful adventure and one that I wanted to share with Noah. Sure, I write and call and send pictures, but I wanted him to see it, and smell it and taste it for himself.

I also wanted to see Noah. And when I spotted him on the bus from the airport, I was excited, happy, nervous, anxious, eager… And so our adventures in Japan began.

His first day here and we were already off exploring. My kind and generous friends were able to help me borrow a bike and Noah and I rode around the city to some of the more scenic spots. We even found energy to hike up a mountain. Okay it was a small mountain, but still. Oh, and we ran into some of my students, much to their obvious delight.

The next morning, we headed out early and caught the train to Tokyo. It was so much fun to play tourist with Noah. It can be easy to forget the feeling of wonder I had when I first arrived. A visitor helps me to remember. And, it was nice that Noah found a delicious sushi restaurant for us to enjoy.

Our next big outing was to the home of my supervisor’s family for something very traditional, very Japanese, and very tasty. Noah and I were invited to Maruhashi sensei’s in-laws’ to make mochi, sticky rice cakes, for New Year’s. What an honour to be able to participate in a family event like this. There was lots of pounding, rolling, tasting, eating, and more eating.

After the mochi party, Noah and were driven directly to the train station. From there, we headed south and then west by bullet train to the ancient city of Kyoto. The city was magical. Our hotel was not. The owner a little on the disconcerting side as well. He kindly showed us some maps and highlights of the city, but lectured us about the brevity of our stay. The room was cold, drafty and felt kinda dirty – a fact that was more exemplified than hidden by the car air freshener theme in the bathroom. And when I asked for a suggestion about where to eat, I was repeatedly told only the fast food spots near the train station were within my budget. The nerve. Instead, we went to Gion for 6-dollar okonomiyaki.

The next morning, the hotel owner greeted us with a genuine smile and helped us sort out rented bikes and gloves for a day of touring in Kyoto. Everywhere we went people were getting ready for the night’s festivities. We joined in the fun at the Yasaka Shrine. We ate festival food, watched people light ropes to start their own New Year’s fires at home, and squeezed into a long line to experience the ringing of the temple bell by Buddhist monks.

On the first day of the year, we went to the Fushimi Inari Shrine. So did everyone else in Kyoto, it seemed. But it was just beautiful. Rows of orange torii gates wrapped around the mountainside like ribbon and the contrast with the green trees and grey stone cemeteries was astonishing.

That afternoon we headed to Osaka and our seemingly luxurious accommodations, by contrast any way, at the Ramada. Here, we had time to relax, catch up and enjoy a slower pace of travel. We climbed up the city’s castle, enjoyed the energy of America Mura, and devoured seasonal grilled crab legs.

Our culinary explorations didn’t end there. We decided to go to Kobe for…
Kobe beef! And it was absolutely, melt-in-your-mouth delicious. It even made up for the day’s wet weather and confusion about the Earthquake museum. The man at the subway station’s ticket booth was kind enough to give us directions, but he obviously had something he wanted to articulate and couldn’t figure out how to express to a couple of English speakers. As it turned out, the main part of the museum was closed for renovations.

After Kobe and Osaka, we headed to Hiroshima, our final destination. It was modern, beautiful and moving. So many reminders of the death and destruction as well as the ardent hope for peace. On our way back to the hotel the first night, Noah spotted an old European looking building. Too old, he remarked, to have been built after the war. Sure enough, a daytime visit confirmed that this was one of the only buildings in the area to have survived the atomic bomb blast. Inside were millions of paper cranes folded by children from all around the world.

Miyajima Island and her deer entertained us the rest of the day. It was low tide and so we were able to get a close up view of the famous torii gate. The overbearing deer nibbled on our shopping bags, and jackets and tried to steal our onigiri. The grilled oysters made a tasty and satisfying snack for humans like us. Mmmmmm!

Those were the highlights. We made our way back to Tokyo for a brief stay and Noah spent a few days in Ota while I went off to work.

Noah came to class with me one morning. The students were so excited to meet him. There was screaming and laughing. Several came running for handshakes and personal introductions. You would think they were meeting a rock star.

The visit was too short. And, all too soon, it was January 11th and time for Noah to head home. That morning, I was the one who had to say goodbye and leave first. I had lessons at my visit school. Noah took a cab to the train station where the airport shuttle bus picked him up. And just like that, he was gone. Sort of.

Noah’s flight to Canada was cancelled that night. He was given vouchers for a hotel room and meals at the Hilton in Narita. For another 12 hours Noah was in Japan, stuck out by the airport, a three-hour journey from my home. It was excruciating to think that he was so close and yet so far.

Now, Noah is on the other side of the earth. And, every Friday when I get on the bus to my visit school, I have this terrible feeling as if I’ve left something important at home.

Album One

Album Two

Confessions

2008-02-01T19:03:00.000+09:00

It’s one month into the New Year and I have to get some stuff off my chest. I am not an angel, in case you didn’t already know that. I hope none of this is too shocking.

Confession #1

I don’t like tempura. I tell everyone that, when it comes to food, I will eat anything. I can even stomach natto. Tempura, however, makes me want to puke (well, hours later.) The problem is, sometimes wonderful and kind people who insist on ordering for me take me out for a meal and they order… TEMPURA. I eat it. I lie. So there.

Confession #2

Remember that dirty and disgusting house I ended up at when I first arrived? Well, when I moved out I took a few extra little things with me. Here’s an itemized list:
- one pair of scissors
- a roll of packing tape
- a small flashlight
- 2 paperback novels
- half a roll of two-ply toilet paper
Therefore, I am a liar AND a thief.

Don’t hate me yet? Okay, how’s this.

Confession #3

I am a grumpy grinch!
Now, this just happened about 1.5 hours ago and I am waiting for the police to show up at my door and arrest me. My school has already been called, and I hope they accept my lame explanation.

Basically, this is what happened. In December, my students wrote letters to Santa in Canada via the Canada Post programme. The response letters made their way back but with several additional letters to kids in different parts of Japan and several for children in France. FRANCE!

I head to the JP post office, finally, with the best of intentions and some of my own mail and a package. Figuring out how to mail the package is a trial in itself, but we manage. Then, I try to forward these Santa letters and they explain to me that the envelopes are too big for their postal system… there is a huge surcharge for these things. I try to explain that these are lost letters; that they’re not mine. Confusion. I try to explain that I will put them in one envelope then and just send them back to Canada. They want to give me a special delivery EMS envelope. No thanks, why pay the extra to return mail? Why can’t I mail it surface mail? I am frustrated and tired of these letters, so I go to put them in the trash. NO!!! Okay, so they won’t let me throw them out there.

We start over again. This time, I stupidly mention that I am an English ALT at Ota Girls’ and try to explain that these letters are lost and were sent to me by mistake. They try to get someone who speaks English on the phone. I am trapped and have just about enough of the whole thing. We don’t get any further. More frustration. I try and fail again at attempting to toss the letters in their garbage. I leave. I spot a mailbox and think, “These are either lost with me, or lost with a postal service. I am sure they will have better luck with the postal service. After all, if I was in Canada…” My address isn’t on the letters, only Santa’s in Canada, and the indented recipients. So, I shove them in the box, not even considering the fact that I have another option: walk away, relax, and try another way at another time.

So, now the letters are out of my possession; I don’t know if the kids who originally mailed Santa will ever get their mail; my school was called by the post office to alert them that there was some confusion (great!); and I feel like crap and am waiting to see if the police will come get me for putting strange packages in the mail.

There, so how do you like me now?

I’m * *

2008-01-30T22:10:00.000+09:00

Well, it’s done. I didn’t want to do it, but it had to be done. And now, only a few short months after my arrival in Japan, ***

I feel awful.

Below, is a copy of the letter ...***
---

LETTER

***

Sorry, it seemed to me to be a good idea to sensor this post for a little while. Check back in the future and maybe I'll re-post the details.

Last goodbye

2008-01-27T23:32:00.000+09:00

It was understood that Aron didn’t have much time left. He was very old and frail. Yet, knowing how much power and strength and resilience he had possessed, part of me felt as if he just might outlive us all. Still, it was understood. And I knew, when I went to say my goodbye in July that it likely would be my last.

I knew this but I decided to leave for Japan all the same. How could I pass up the opportunity I had dreamed about? How could I stay where I was so unhappy? It was an unhappiness I know he understood. He knew I loved I him. I knew I could make him smile, even laugh.

I remember the first time I met him. Noah and I went to Florida and stayed with his grandparents in a beachside condo for two weeks. He came to greet us with one of the biggest smiles I had ever seen. He took our luggage from our hands and hauled it into the apartment. He had so much energy and so much love to share.

It was Saturday morning when I learned Aron Lander had passed away. I was on the train to Tokyo. I already missed him. I always will.

Onsen Weekend

2008-01-20T23:39:00.001+09:00

I’m a pretty shy person. Well, I am when it comes to taking my clothes off. In front of strangers, people I know, doesn’t matter. I am possibly one of the most self-conscious people on Earth regarding my body. And, it’s not for terribly good reasons either. Just that I am a little heavier than I would like, I have all kinds of skin issues, and breasts that belong on someone three, or even four, times my size. There, I said it. That was almost as difficult as stripping down and hoping into a tiny, shared, public bath. I did that this past week too.

Saturday morning, with bags packed Reina and I rode out into the rain to the train station and headed north. We were going to Kusatsu, a famous hot spring resort town, to be exact. Along the way, we met up with four more young women who teach in Ota and the rain turned into beautiful, soft snow.

This was the first snow I had seen in Japan. It was dreamlike. White tufts on top of every branch and every rooftop. It was so calming, the facts that our mochas were bitter, our connections barely gave us time to buy tickets, and we couldn’t find the right bus to our hostel, didn’t phase us at all. For some reason, luck abounds in Japan and everything worked out perfectly.

(Luck, and ingenuity. Later that night, Natasha turned a Pringles chip can into an amplifier and our hostel room was filled with music, as well as talk, laughter, and choco snacks.)

When we weren’t sleeping or hanging out in our rented digs, we were soaking in hot tubs or seeking out our next bath. My favourite was relaxing in the outdoor pools at the Now Resort Hotel. It was wonderful to be submerged in the steamy mineral bath with the snow falling on my face. Hours and hours we spent chatting and turning into giant prunes. The toasty warm feeling lasted for some time afterwards and guaranteed a restful sleep.

On Sunday, we headed out to explore. The ski slopes were less than a five-minute walk. And, although none of us wanted to actually ski, we decided to check it out all the same. We walked into town toting our towels, stopping at souvenir shops and for free samples of steamy manju cake on the street.

At the centre of town was the Yubatake, the bubbling hot water springing forth and bringing with it frothy, yellow sulfur. It is this water that is the source for the town’s many onsen.

We found two public bathhouses that afternoon. Perhaps a novelty in their genuineness, they were not the most comfortable places to bathe. They were cramped, cold, and a touch grimy. Just a touch. Still, it was fun to discover these little places.

What was less fun, was having to strip in the freezing little change rooms. And, if I may offer a small piece of advice, I would suggest that you keep your socks on until the last possible moment. Its amazing how the temperature of your feet can effect your overall well being.

Sleep too. After an evening of onsen and slumber partying, the 7:30 am breakfast was draining. And so, we didn’t make it though the afternoon as genki as we might have liked. And by the time we reached the bus depot to catch the shuttle for the hotel next to our hostel, I was tuckered out.

The station? It was tired too, and nearly closed for the night. There was no shuttle bus. We called the hotel to find out the time of the next one, or so we thought. After several of us taking turns on the phone, a man who knew some English came to our aid. It turned out we called a restaurant. The poor woman kept telling us there was no bus where she was, and we repeatedly asked her when it would be arriving at the station. But, the confusion didn’t end there. The kind man didn’t seem to understand that all we needed was the bus and kept trying to help us make a hotel reservation for the night.

We tried to get a cab at the taxi stand. There was one, but it was minus a driver. And when he finally showed up, he announced he was already reserved. I spotted a cab stopped at the traffic light and ran over to ask if we could get in. No, apparently not. This time no reason was given, no window opened as an offer of explanation or assistance. In my frustration, I found myself in the middle of the intersection, yelling, “Takchi wa doko desu ka?” Where is a taxi? He pointed to the empty taxi stand. And so, we began our long walk back through town and to the hostel. And, just as we turned up the road towards our goal, a shuttle bus to the hotel whizzed by.

Thank goodness, we had another onsen to melt our stress away. Ah, that’s better.

On Onsen

2008-01-14T22:12:00.001+09:00

When undressing at a public bathhouse in winter, always remove your socks last.

Finding Myself

2007-12-17T00:53:00.000+09:00

I’m not going to lie. There are many reasons I decided to live in Japan. And yes, the cliché applies. I am hoping to “find myself” here. Or, at least discover a little more about who I really am. I spend a lot of time turning over dreams, hopes, and thoughts in my mind. I do this mostly before bed or between stations on the train.

But, sometimes you find things you didn’t even know were lost. Sometimes you find these things in the most unexpected places. For me, it was a small, missing link to my identity and it was in Hong Kong.

At the end of October, I had the chance to travel to Hong Kong and meet my parents for a brief adventure in a fascinating city before we all headed back to Japan. Just a few blocks from our Hong Kong hotel was the Ohel Leah Synagogue. On the Sunday morning, we decided to go and check it out.

Once past the security, we found our way to a building that was fascinating both in terms of architecture and history. An Iraqi family, the Sassoons, built this Hong Kong Synagogue at the turn of the twentieth century. It was fascinating inside. The metal work was traditional Iraqi motives and the parokhet was adorned with evil eye designs.

The idea that a Sephardic, Iraqi family could be so influential in a mixed Jewish community was inspiring. I have heard so many stories from my family about being second-class citizens in Israel, about discrimination and racism. Israel has never had a Sephardic Prime Minister. There are reasons for that. And yet here was a story about an Iraqi family having the influence and means to build a beautiful synagogue in Hong Kong.

More inspiring was the idea that Sephardic and Ashkenazi Jews could form a community together that viewed diversity as its strength, and worked to accommodate various traditions without competing stories of oppression. Persecution sometimes is used as rationale for trying to preserve one set of traditions over another, and at great expense. But here, it felt as if there was a value placed on preserving the unique aspects of the various members of the congregation.

There was something even more inspiring. A reassuring realization, perhaps. The Sassoon family was originally from Iraq. They lived in India for some time and settled in Hong Kong. And yet, they were Babylonian Jews. In fact, it seems that the Jewish people from Iraq had a reputation for traveling and living in other parts of the world. Maybe, they didn’t maintain their identity in spite of their dispersal. Maybe, the Diaspora is integral to the identity of the Iraqi Jew along with the change and adaptation that goes along with that.

I spend a lot of time contemplating the preservation of my identity as a Babylonian Jewish woman. Trying to figure out how to hang on to that unique history, knowing that if there are any Jews left in Iraq now you could probably count them on one hand. I acknowledge that I am part Ashkenazi. But I always feel a strong pull to identify with my mother’s side of the family because I feel as if it is a community and a history that is disappearing so quickly. Maybe even a sense of urgency is attached to this.

But maybe, this is something I shouldn’t worry about. Maybe this is the designed fate of the Babylonian Jew; to move on and grow in new and unexpected ways. And so maybe, nothing has been lost, but only changed. Maybe.

I ♥ Hong Kong

2007-12-16T21:23:00.000+09:00

If I were a billionaire, I would buy a condo in Hong Kong. What a fantastic city! Not that I got to really see that much of the place. I only had four days at the end of October to get there, explore, and make my way back home. But, what I saw, I loved.

Early, early on the morning of Saturday, October 20th I headed out to catch a shuttle bus to the airport and meet my parents in Hong Kong. By mid-afternoon I was taxing to the arrival gate. And I swear, the moment we landed I could smell food. Hong Kong is a culinary adventure. There’s so much to do, see, smell and taste.

Our first destination was Victoria Peak. I guess our thinking was the fastest way to take in as much of the city as possible was to get up as high as week could. The setting sun highlighted the hazy view of Hong Kong, the harbour, and Kowloon.

That night we crossed the water to Kowloon in search of a seafood supper and the hustle and bustle of the night market. The things for sale there were touristy and cheap, but the energy was good.

The next morning, we headed out to find a historic synagogue in Hong Kong. It was beautiful, fascinating and worth it’s own story, so I will leave it at that and hopefully get to telling you more about it soon.

Adventures beckoned us in every direction. We choose random adventure and hopped on the first double-decker tram with a destination we didn’t recognize.

We rode until we tired of it and then took the subway back to the ferry port and crossed back to Kowloon for Jade Market shopping, dim sum and incense infused temples.

Dinner and a sunset were enjoyed at a small island fishing village.

Politics and free speech seem alive and well in a Hong Kong under Chinese rule. Dinnertime arguments over politics waft through the air along with the smell of fried fish. The newspapers are full of strongly worded anti-government editorials and even the Falun Dafa practitioners felt comfortable enough to protest.

The next day belonged to Buddha. We woke up early to make our way to one of the biggest Buddha statues in the world. Buddha was beautiful, the chanting from the temple was mesmerizing and the vegetarian lunch one of my all-time favourite meals.

Hong Kong is a fascinating mix. Rich urban, poor rural. Fishermen and businesswomen. Diverse people from around the world. And, lots of English.

On our last night we took a nighttime cruise aboard the Aqua Luna. What a beautiful illuminated and illuminating city.

More pictures here.

Take My Parents to Work Day

2007-12-16T00:50:00.000+09:00

I can’t sleep. I often can’t sleep at night. It seems to be a habit of mine to suddenly remember reams of things I need to do tomorrow and yet be too lazy to get up and write them down so that my mind can relax. Add to that the fact that I know all of my friends and family are just getting up for the day back home, and it’s even harder to shut off and relax.

So, I will attempt to do some catching up on an owed blog post.

It’s been a month since my parents were here. Still, the memories of their visit are fresh in my mind. We traveled and just had time to catch up and chat. And, I took them to school with me.

Now, I must say it is a little awkward to have your parents tag along with you for a day of work. Questions, stares, etc. And well, it always seems a little strange to be introducing coworkers to mom and pop. It sort of eats away at your sense of expertise and confidence. But, it would have been utterly impossible not to introduce my parents to the people I work with everyday. In the end, it was actually fun.

We arrived at the school early on the morning of November 8th, so that my parents could officially be introduced to the kocho sensei (school principal). There was some tea and chitchat. After that, my parents and I were marched in to the staff meeting to great applause. My father was asked to give a small speech. It was lovely and his attempts at Japanese phrases sweet (I am not one to talk, as the situation is the same for me.)

Then came the best part. My mother and father joined one of my second year English classes. My supervisor, Maruhashi sensei, and I decided it might be a good idea to have my parents join the students for some group work activities. It worked out wonderfully except that my mother distracted her group with talk of Japanese baseball players (where she picked up this knowledge I will never know) and my father slowed down his group with lots of questions.

We had a great time and the students loved it. They were energetic and eager to show of to our guests. I have to say that, as awkward as the morning was, my cheeks were sore from smiling.

I can hardly wait for Noah’s school visit. The girls are going to go nuts.

On Traveling Well…

2007-12-08T16:19:00.000+09:00

Always try to have a map, even if you don’t know your destination.

Or, try not to worry about it.

Okini Osaka

2007-12-08T00:32:00.000+09:00

Long weekends might not be as rare as you think here in Japan, but they are still precious. If you take the train out of town as soon as you finish work, you can get a good two and a half days of touring somewhere. Heck, if you add one more day of paid leave, you might just have enough time to check out Hong Kong or Seoul or someplace else. Yes, you can cram a lot into a long weekend.

And so, because I’ll likely only be here for the year, it seemed like a good idea to head to Kyoto for the Labour Thanksgiving Day weekend at the end of November. The funny thing is, however, it doesn’t seem to matter if you are in Japan once in your life or for a lifetime, that’s THE weekend to see Kyoto. Everything, everything, everything was booked up more than a month in advance. Sonia brought in the big guns and had the travel agent for the school where she was working do some serious digging around for a hotel. And, low and behold, he did it! He found us a great little place in Osaka, just a 30 minute train ride away from Kyoto. And a huge breakfast buffet to boot.

The next trick would be finding a way to meet on the train platform at Tokyo station to catch the shinkansen bullet train. Sonia had about ten minutes to navigate a busy and confusing station and I had to find a way to get up to the platform without an actual ticket in hand. Again, we managed and were off on our adventure.

Saturday was Kyoto day. A quick train ride and Sonia and I were transported from one Great Japanese metropolis to another.

I must admit that Kyoto could have a little better organized on our parts. We didn’t know which temples we wanted to see, we didn’t have a map, we were completely left to our own devices. I had high expectations and not really any means of achieving them.

We accomplished less than we might have liked that day but what we did see was grand. The trees in the gardens surrounding the palace grounds were painted bright yellows and reds. We were able to make our way to a couple of temples. The Ryoanji Temple grounds were breathtakingly beautiful and the Zen garden strangely fascinating. We even made time to sit and enjoy a traditional temple yu-dofu lunch. And we managed to catch sunset at the Rokuon-Ji Temple’s Golden Pavilion. Striking. Although, it was just a stream of people. We wrapped up the evening with a stroll along Philosopher’s Walk. (I make it sound so lovely. We were also snarled at by a mean dog with sharp teeth, got semi-lost on the transit system, and ended up, in a moment of desperation, at an Italian buffet for dinner.)

The next day was all about Osaka. Our first destination was the castle. To get there we had to walk through several terrific parks, leaves ablaze. Up, up, up until we reached the magnificent building. The square was full of life and the warm sun made it feel like a summer day. It was a lovely place to relax and enjoy takoyaki. And, when I say enjoy, I mean it this time. Osaka is known for it’s takoyaki (doughy octopus balls) and it is obvious why. Unlike the takoyaki I had had in Ota or at festivals, this stuff was actually good. Really. It wasn’t too oily and actually had a slightly crispy exterior. Oh, and it wasn’t buried under mayonnaise.

The people in Osaka were very kind. Maybe too kind. We asked one man for directions and found a personal escort who wouldn’t take no for an answer. At one point, we decided we wanted to take a detour and check out another park area. It was a real trick to turn back before we reached the destination originally inquired about.

The shopping in Osaka is great too. Lots of fun. Especially in America Mura, the hip shopping/hangout part of the city. This is were fashion comes to die… Or, be reborn, depending on how you look at it. It’s certainly isn’t the least bit American. I don’t think I’d ever seen a man in red and black striped tights, with really short leather shorts, a leather jacket, white boots, pink nail polish, triangular sunglasses, and a purple mohawk in America. Well, not in this decade.

Dotombori Street, although touristy, was alive with fabulous energy. There were restaurants and theaters all along the strip. Smaller, more traditional eateries, and even temples, filled the nearby alleyways. A little further still, were the hostess bars. Some of the action spilled onto the streets. Around a corner and we spotted one woman being repeatedly groped as several men said their goodnights.

Through the doors of one coffee house, and we were in another world. The café was the width of a train car. The walls were paneled with richly stained wood. The smoke hung in the air, illuminated by chandlers and sconces. Mostly older men sitting with mostly younger women who were wearing pearls and sporting big updos. Not much conversation to be found here. A pile of women’s fashion magazines suggested feminine boredom. But the teacakes were divine, the strawberry juice fresh, and the hot chocolate made from real cocoa. It turned out the owner studied English in Seattle 15 years ago and was eager for English conversation. Between serving drinks and cleaning tables he keep returning to chat.

The next morning it was time to say goodbye to Osaka. Sonia and I made our way to the “Floating Garden.” Not a bit of greenery in sight up there, but the view of Osaka was amazing from our perch high about the action.

Okini Osaka - Thank you, Osaka.

See lots more photos!

Riding the Rails

2007-12-05T18:53:00.000+09:00

I enjoy simple things: the feel of the radiant heat from the kerosene heater in the teachers’ lounge, the crunch of leaves under my bicycle tires, the smell of a freshly peeled mandarin orange. It doesn’t need to be fancy to impress me. So, spending the day riding along an old section of Japanese railroad was truly magical.

Caitlin and I met Minoru Urano in very serendipitous way. Having overheard a mixed up English/Japanese conversation we where having, he stepped in to translate. And then, he sat down with us. It was a simple as that. And before we knew it, Caitlin and I had made a wonderful Japanese friend who takes pleasure in showing us some of the less-obvious gems around Ota.

Last Sunday, Minoru-san and his wife, Tsugio, took us for a tour of a unique stretch of railway.

We boarded the “train” at Omama. Only it wasn’t a train because it wasn’t made up of a series of cars. Rather, it was a locomotive/car. Just one. Caitlin and I were the only foreigners on board, and we may have been the only people younger than 60 and older than two for most of the ride.

The little railcar sputtered along. Some of the stations were so small, there was no place to buy or deposit a ticket. Just hop on board and pay before getting off. So small was this operation, in fact, that when one man was late boarding, a yelp from some of the passengers brought the thing to a screeching halt. Never in my life did I think a train would ever slam on the breaks by request like that.

We rode the rails for hours, gazing out at the mountains and rivers as we went. The fall leaves still clinging to the trees as they fade from brilliant yellows and reds to a crisp golden hue as if baked in the oven.

Over the course of our adventures, we stopped at the Tomihiro Art Museum in Azuma, a railcar restaurant for tempura and soba, a small festival is Ashio, and an old copper mine site. We even warmed up at one station that provided public baths. At one point, we ended up on a train with tatami mat floors and a lounge car. Fun, but it was a serious pain to take my shoes on and off for one stop.

At 5:30, with the flip of a switch, the string of tiny train stations were brightly illuminated with strands of Christmas lights and other seasonal decorations. As we approached each station, the train’s lights were switched off, making the Christmas lights seem even brighter.

Album

IOU

2007-12-04T23:26:00.001+09:00

I am currently way behind on this blog thingy. I owe stories about:

Nikko
Halloween

Anything else?

Consider this a to do list.

On Earthquakes…

2007-12-02T00:46:00.000+09:00

If even the ground beneath my feet is not stable, what is?

Tsukiji

2007-11-13T19:22:00.001+09:00

A person who willing wakes up at 4:30 am to wade through fish guts is:
A) Completely out of her mind
B) Tired for the next week
C) A tourist (a Japanese person would never do this of her own free will)
D) All of the above

Hooray for brave parents and a willing Japanese friend. We found a hotel in Tokyo for the Friday night so that we could wake up early, early on Saturday morning and head over to the Tsukiji Fish Market. It was worth every sleep-deprived minute.

Tsukiji was fascinating: The many kinds of fish and seafood, the frozen tuna that was the size of seals, the morning rush of activity you find in any real market. The market floor was wet and the rain outside just added to the puddles. So, we rolled up our pants and wadded in. And for the most part, it was pretty clean.

The tuna was the most interesting. The carcasses were huge and everywhere. Frozen blocks in rows and sliding along concrete floors, on carts and little trucks, or scooped up in cranes, saw blades slicing through the frozen flesh or being chopped with axes. The thawed meat was a deep red. Many of the fish had chunks cut near where the tail would have been to allow potential buyers to peek at the quality of the fish.

And these were no crude fishmongers, let me tell you. Rather, they were savvy businessmen and women cutting deals on their cell phones between cleaning and shucking the fish and seafood.

Tsukiji is a real, working market. It’s very hectic and we constantly had to watch our step to avoid being hit by passing vehicles or a flying fish head. Tourists used to be allowed to attend the morning auction, but no more. And, I can’t say I blame them. Can you imagine if your workplace was a tourist destination? Cameras flashing as you file paperwork or go about your daily business?

Not all of the fish is fresh, or Japanese. We found a box of Canadian prawns. And, the Japanese seem to have a thing for some special varieties of Canadian mushrooms. (That’s my next campaign, “Free The Mushrooms.” Why is it I’ve never seen these things at home?)

Of course, you can’t go to Tsukiji without eating sushi for breakfast. We patiently waited about 20 minutes in the rain for a counter seat at a little sushi place. My rice bowl was piled high with tuna, salmon and sea urchin (uni). And you know what? For the first time in my adult life, it was really unappetizing to chew and swallow those chunks of raw fish. I don’t know why.

Click here for more photos.

… And a funeral

2007-11-05T22:31:00.001+09:00

Yes, I am well aware that I have been neglecting my blog. I’m sorry. Life here has been very hectic, what with school, my parents’ visit and some of my own homework. I’m actually very much looking forward to the end of November. Remind me sometime, I owe you some posts and pictures about Hong Kong, Nikko and Halloween. For now though, I am actually resorting to this forum more as an act of catharsis than to keep friends and family in the loop.

A few hours ago I returned home after attending a Japanese, Buddhist funeral. I was there among the mourners.

The experience of being part of the school community has been wonderful and an honour. It’s been a pleasure to share in the learning, the achievements and celebrations; even taking part in the cleaning activities is a joy. But sometimes there is struggle, loss and sorrow. For Ota Girls’ High School, that time is now.

Over the weekend, the school’s office manager was found dead. I wish I knew enough to be able to articulate the details but with language issues and a mysterious story to begin with, there isn’t much to tell you. He went missing several days ago. I understood something about a strange car accident, and head trauma. There was an autopsy, but it was inconclusive. What is certain is that the man I called Jimmy Joe San (Jim Cho San) is gone and we are all feeling his loss.

Jim Cho San (his work title) was very good to me. He spent hours going over reams of paperwork when I first arrived to secure my new apartment, he organized a fabulous office party to welcome me to the school (honestly, it could have been my bat-mitzvah, it felt that special), he had a reassuring presence and a wonderful smile. And, although language was a barrier, we communicated often about many things. He was one of my guardians at the school.

And, for all of this I owed him much thanks. I did thank him regularly, but I had intended these last few weeks to find a special gift to let him know I really appreciated everything he had done. Now, it is too late.

I feel guilty. I feel guilty for feeling guilty, as if I somehow have twisted this horrible situation to be about my bad feelings. Perhaps I should think about it this way: Life is very precious and very fragile. We never know when someone may enter our life or leave it. We should take every opportunity to let people know that their work means something to us, that we are grateful, or proud, or touched. And, that we should make these gestures whenever the urge strikes us and never put it off.

The funeral was difficult. I wanted to say goodbye, to meditate a little, to share my sorrow. Instead, I felt stressed, self-conscious and confused. Each guest is expected to participate in a short ritual in front of the family and other mourners. I spent most of the time caught up in anxiety over the 30 seconds I would endure. I lamented about my inappropriate dress. My dark grey pants might just as well have been bright red in the sea of black suits, black dresses, black shoes, black ties, black handbags, and black pearls. I gave my donation and ended up with two gift bags in return. How is it that I am still receiving things after Jim Cho San’s death and how can I make things equal somehow? My feelings of indebtedness seem very much increased by the ceremony.

I think that’s why I wanted to sit down and write this now, despite all of the other things that need my attention and the owed posts for events now long since past. I guess I’m hoping in someway that Jim Cho San can read this, can hear my thoughts. I want him to know that I am thankful for his kindness. I want him to know that I was looking forward to the soba noodle lessons we had laughed about him giving. That I was looking forward to his warm smile tomorrow.

I’m in!

2007-10-09T21:51:00.001+09:00

Well, if I want to be in that is. It seems after a slightly stressful audition/class I have been accepted into a local Japanese pottery class. I’m not one hundred per cent sure I’m as excited about the class as I was before, but I am absolutely thrilled that the sensei will have me.

A few weeks ago, I mentioned to some people in my cooking class that I like pottery and that I was hoping to find a class here. Well, with a Japanese sort of eagerness to welcome and guide that never ceases to amaze me, one student called up a friend of hers who does pottery and handed me a handwritten sheet of information on classes in Ota.

I had an English teacher at school help me with the initial phone call. I basically had her communicate who I was, that I have taken some pottery classes and that I’d like to enroll for the Tuesday night class. The response was not exactly what I expected. It wasn’t a yes, we have room, or no, sorry the class is full. Rather it was a request to come in for a one on one lesson to see if I liked it and the teacher liked me. Okay…?

The truth is I’m not sure I did like it that much. It was very frustrating. I was instructed to make a bowl on the wheel. But, I had to do it EXACTLY the way the teacher wanted me to. For example, don’t just wedge the clay, wedge it THIS way; don’t just score the clay, score it THIS way. That, combined with the fact that the wheel I was using was just a little wee disk plopped down on the table and powered by hand, was enough to make me crazy (I don’t even like kick wheels, that’s how spoiled I am.) On the positive side, I did learn some new techniques and might one day be equipped with enough knowledge to make a round vessel in the caves of Afghanistan.

Today, I had to go back to glaze my bowl. It looked okay. It was round, solid. The kinds of things I look for in my pieces. And the glazes were all new and lovely to me. Again, new techniques had me tenuously gripping the delicate foot ring of the bowl while lowering it into suction-griping glaze. The bowl and I made it though. A real feat for me – my friend Erin can attest to the fact that I have a tendency to drop my pieces… usually a lid I have made to measure while it is still soft and malleable.

I was invited to come to class next week at 7 pm. And, it was nice to see that the other students were busily working away on their own pieces, with the occasional assistance from the teacher. Decisions, decisions, decisions…

Mushroom Madness

2007-10-08T23:38:00.001+09:00

So, the other day, I get a ride home from a guy who’s been living and working in Japan for about 8 years. He started as a JET in Ota and told me a story from his early days in Japan. Apparently, what he thought was going to be a day of mushroom picking on the mountain was a ceremonial procession of mushrooms. How interesting it all sounded. A mushroom ceremony here in Ota? Who knew?

Well, apparently anyone who bothered to read the many posters plastered all over town knew. I, of course, cannot read Japanese. I was only able to discern that there was event coming up on October 7th and that it was in Ota.

Using my cunning smile and foreign charm, I was able to get someone at a small, local restaurant to explain when and where the event would take place. Lucky I asked someone in the food business too because he knew the English word, “mushroom” and that’s when I put the puzzle together; the mushroom march would be this weekend!

Caitlin and I were at the Daikoin Temple at precisely 11 am for the kick off of the event. There were dignitaries on hand and the temple looked especially festive for the occasion.

The local media were there too, cameras often panning over to the two foreign women in attendance (yes us.)

And at the centre of it all was a group of young men and women, probably high school students, who were going to march baskets of mushrooms from Mt. Kanayama in Ota to some place in Saitama (the whole march, including pit stops and a long lunch break, was maybe four hours, at a snails pace.)

The outfits were traditional, right down to the footwear.

Mushrooms ready, banners and weapons poised, the reenactment began.

We followed the marchers from the Daikoin Temple, out the gates and along the busy streets all the way to Ota city hall.

And, the stars of the show? These funny looking mushrooms. Apparently, a sight to behold, and smell.

For being such loyal followers, Caitlin and I were rewarded with bowls of mushroom soup, and rice with mushrooms for lunch.

Serious Fun

2007-10-01T19:42:00.000+09:00

Thursday was sports day at Ota Girls High School.

Sure, I remember sports days from middle school. I hated them. Everyone in their drab blue on blue gym uniforms competing against each other and hoping for lame participation badges. It was a day that mostly felt like a series of standardized tests. Yuck.

In Japan, each school holds a sports festival once a year. And, it really is a festive occasion. Rainbow coloured t-shirts, music, dancing, and lots of laughter.

Mind you, the students still take much of it pretty seriously. One girl burst into tears on the track when her relay team finished in last place. Thankfully, only one student was rushed off the field in a stretcher and she was apparently fine, much to the relief of her classmates who formed a small mob outside of the school nurse’s room.

Some of the games were familiar to me: sprinting, tug of war, and three-legged races – only these were with teams of three people tied together instead of two and I hear it can get to an impressive 20-person tethered team from time to time in Japan.

Other games were totally new to me. For example, the obstacle race that included grabbing a bagged pastry with your teeth, and the game with the giant bamboo poles in which opposing teams rush to the middle of the field and try to haul as many large poles to their side within a time limit and against the efforts of their opponents. It’s fierce fun and hilarious when one student manages to out-race all the others and claim a pole totally on her own. Or, when a pole is dragged across the field with several losing team members along for the ride.

Some races are just for fun. The club relay is an event in which students run along the track while either doing their club activity or trying to represent it in some way. The entire brass band spent more than half an hour setting up to play about 30 seconds of musical accompaniment when their counterparts were racing along.

Even the tea club played an important part in the day. Their tea stand helped to keep participants hydrated with a variety of tasty concoctions.

A personal highlight for me was the concluding group dance at the end. Most school choose an international folk dance to close off the day. I understand there can be a lot of square dancing and that sort of thing. Not at Ota Girls. Imagine my surprise when seven hundred Japanese students burst into Hebrew! How could I resist joining them for a round of Mayim-Mayim? “Encore,” they yelled when the music ended. Encore indeed.

Click here for even more photos.

Miyagi Weekend

2007-09-27T21:52:00.000+09:00

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.)

2007-09-21T00:53:00.000+09:00

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

2007-09-18T01:47:00.000+09:00

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

2007-09-07T21:55:00.000+09:00

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

2007-09-02T20:32:00.001+09:00

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?

I can read this: K-I-B-E spells Kibe?!?!?!

2007-08-26T22:10:00.000+09:00

So, it was a rocky weekend for me. I got lost. Really and truly, in a small suburb of Ota. Well, lost… I knew where I was and how I got there, but not really how to get back because the bus didn’t show up at the time marked on the schedule. Or at least, from what I could READ of the schedule.

Yeah, there were a lot of literacy issues over the last few days. I couldn’t read the bus schedule as well as I thought I could and missed firework festivals as a result; I somehow switched my air conditioner to heat in plus 30 degree weather and had to go to the school to find an English teacher to help; and I had to get assistance understanding how to use an iron because I couldn’t figure out how to turn it on. In one word, the weekend was frustrating.

But, it’s Sunday night, school starts tomorrow, and I’m feeling better. Mostly because of the strange and wonderful things I keep finding here in Japan. For example, I just had the most delicious whole wheat bread I’ve ever tasted. And this, after my last bread purchase was so sweet, it should have read, “cake” on the package.

Anyway, back to yesterday and the lost bus adventure. Stuck out of town and missing what I have heard is the best fireworks show in the region, I manage though sign language to have a woman at a dry-cleaning shop call me a cab. My night is ruined, my wallet nearly empty, and my mood black. So, I decide to treat myself to a cheer-up – sushi at this conveyer belt place I’ve had my eye on.

On the way to the sushi, I pass a Brazilian import store and café. (This is going somewhere, I promise.) I go inside to check out the place and don't really find much of interest. It’s in another language I don’t understand and I’m not familiar with most of the products. In the cafe, I ask to check out the menu. It’s a very short menu with a small selection of South American and American food (read burgers and empanadas.) But, something catches my eye at the bottom of the page. Just under the empanadas, in fact, it clearly says, “kibe.” Sorry, what’s this? I read it again. It still says, “kibe.” There’s a picture. It looks familiar (I call them kubba.) Here, in Ota?

I head home and straight to my computer to do a little research on the Internet. It turns out that the most popular fast-food chain in Brazil is a Middle Eastern place called Habib's. So popular, I guess, that kibe makes its way on to a Brazilian menu in Japan. I love this planet!

Stupid, “bleeping” bike! Oh, how I love her.

2007-08-22T18:11:00.000+09:00

There she is. That's my baby, parked outside of the Ota train station. (She’s the dark pink one in front. I tend to take lots of pictures of her so I don’t forget where she’s parked.) Okay, so this mama-chari isn’t really much to look at up close. She’s a bit rusty, the basket is caved-in in one corner, the bell is broken, the seat is all scratched up, and the front fender is slightly askew. Not that most mama-charis are anything special. They’re one speed, heavy, and you’re seated low down so that your legs never stretch out for much power or comfort.

But, my bicycle gets me from point A to point B with ease and means I have to spend a lot less time under the hot sun each day. I’ve learned to navigate the often narrow and uneven sidewalks and I have found ways to avoid some of the uber-long traffic lights on my way downtown. I no longer fear sliding into a rice paddy and the cars phase me a little less than they did two weeks ago. I can even scratch my nose without careening into a tree now. In fact, last week I caught myself in mid-“wee” on the way down a slope. Can you believe it? Thank you, zayda for getting me up on two wheels so many years ago.

Ah, but when she’s good, I’m good, and when she’s not, well… I’m a hot, sticky, unhappy mess.

On Tuesday, I hop on my bike and start to peddle from school to the Ota city hall for my Japanese lessons. I ride for maybe about 10 metres when I hear a sound kinda like, “waka, waka, waka.” And, the ride is bumpy as hell. I have a flat. Back to the school, pump some air, and I’m off again. But, I don’t make it to the city hall before, “waka, waka, waka.” Shit! After class I end up walking the darn thing half an hour all the way home. Now what?

Wednesday arrives and I have to walk, WALK, to school where I explain my problem. Thank goodness for the kindness of teachers. They are able to find a bike shop for me that’s not too far way. They even call ahead for me.

So, under the blazing mid-day sun I escort my bike about 30 minutes to the repair shop. The sun is directly above me and it is hot. I have never been as sweaty in my entire life. Pools are somehow collecting under my eyes, on the back of my neck, behind my knees, all over. I stop periodically under the shade of a bridge to try and towel off a bit, but it’s useless.

Finally, I arrive at the bike shop. The repairman is expecting me, which is a good thing, because beyond “punc, punc”, I am unable to communicate much more. Sure enough, her back tire has a puncture. It’s demonstrated for me, several times, in a bucket of water.

With very quick hands, the repair is completed and she’s as good as new. (Or in this case, as good as old.) He charges me 1,000 yen for the repair, which is apparently a discount – yes, likely the regular discount price.

By 12:45 pm, I’m off and riding again. Just in time for my Japanese class and a complement on my cool bike from a classmate.

Oh, so good to have her back. I think I should name her. How’s, Magenta!? With the exclamation mark of course. Magenta!, no more punc, okay?

Tokyo!

2007-08-21T21:38:00.000+09:00

Well, I’m busy, but not that busy. And I’m craving adventure. So, on Sunday I got up, found the train information, and hopped a ride in to Tokyo for the first time on my own.

Tokyo is huge, so first thing I did was search through the pages of the guidebook my sister gave me as a parting gift to find an area of interest. And, wouldn’t you know it, Asakusa was just 80 minutes and one direct train ride away.

Ah, but if only it were that simple. It is one EXPRESS train ride to Asakusa, Tokyo. I hopped on the cushy car with a simple commuter ticket, which was about half the price. Near the end of the ride, I was made to fess, and pay, up. Luckily for me they don’t fine people here, just make you top up.

Asakusa is an area of Tokyo centered around a large Shinto shrine and temple. Tourist shops selling a variety of trinkets abound, as does the sweet smell of sugar from the many food stalls. A feast for the senses.

This was my first time to a Shinto temple and it was fascinating, particularly in the way so many rituals seem similar to those of other religious and spiritual practices around the world. Before entering, worshipers cover themselves with smoke from burning incenses, similar to smudging (First Nations). They wash their hands carefully (Jewish), and toss in their coin donations at the entrance (Christian). At the inner most part of the temple, people pray contemplatively after removing their shoes (Muslim). Practices so different, and yet so familiar. If I only knew more about world religions or the Shinto faith, I am sure there are even more commonalities.

I toured more of the area which revealed a small amusement park tucked back amongst the side streets, a whole street full of shops catering to restaurants and the culinary minded (a favourite of Natalie’s, perhaps?), and very unique building belonging to the Asahi Brewery Company that’s meant to resemble a tall glass of beer.

Pictures tell the story far better than I can at this hour. Click here for photos.

At 6:30 I got back on the train for Ota. This time, I decided to take the peasant’s way via local trains. With a stop at every station along the way and a switch in Tatebayashi, it took more than two and a half hours from station to station. I think I’ll stick to the plush ride from now on. I just need to figure out how to reserve, and pay for, a proper ticket.

Fire Follow

2007-08-14T18:31:00.000+09:00

I arrive at the school this morning just as I always do. And, just as always, I greet the office staff with the appropriate, formal morning greeting and a slight bow. Instead of just the usual hello I normally get back, the window slides open and a newspaper is waved at me. They want to know about the fire.

As promised, I took some pictures of the scene this morning. What the pictures don’t convey is the sound of water dripping from inside.

Kaji da!

2007-08-13T23:22:00.000+09:00

That’s “fire!” in Japanese. It’s usually good to find a situation in which to apply a newly learned word. But, not always.

I had a bit of a scare tonight. A big, bright, flaming hot scare just a few houses down the street.

One of the nice things about my apartment is that when I close the doors and window, it’s pretty airtight. But, it also means I’m a bit disconnected from the real world just beyond. Until it starts blaring at me that is. And that’s what happened tonight. I was just getting set to answer a letter and do some writing when I notice that there is a ceaseless din of sirens outside.

I open my front door and realize that the emergency is basically happening right in front of me, around me, everywhere. There’s a large fire burning at the end of the street just a few houses in front of me. Hmmm, interesting. Okay. I stare, I get my camera. I go back inside.

I’m nervous. I take another peek outside my door just in time to spot a huge fireball erupt into the sky just a few doors down. The battle is raging. And, from where I stand it looks as if the firefighters are loosing. So, I panic a little. I try to phone home. No answer. I call my prefectural advisor almost just because I need to talk to someone. It’s hard enough to deal with an emergency. It’s down right scary when you don’t speak the language, don’t know the area, and aren’t sure where you might be able to sleep if your home gets swallowed by flames (yes, a little extreme, but that’s where my mind was at the time.)

Just in case, I pack up my laptop, important papers and a clean pair of underwear and head out, locking the door to my apartment. I think it might be like that waiting for the pot to boil kind of thing, because just as I make my escape, it seems the flames are being brought under control.

I phone my kyoto-sensei (vice-principal) just to let him know I’m okay incase he’s heard something on the radio or whatever. This is a mistake because apparently he tries to drive to my place (which is impossible because every side street around me is closed off.)

Every fire hydrant for blocks is hooked up to giant hoses. I count at least five. Some of the firefighters are dressed in these wild aluminum-foil looking suits. One of them walks by me and looks like he’s about to fall over. He’s pulling off a boot as he walks.

People have poured into the streets and are gawking (myself included.) Kids are out in their pajamas, some even loaded into cars ready to make a quick getaway. But, by now, the orange flames seem to be gone. The black sky is filling with smoke.

I head home and to bed.

Even as I write this, there are some announcements being made in Japanese. I have no idea what’s being said, but as long as the flames are out, I’m okay.

I’ll post some after shots tomorrow.

The Marvelous and The Mundane

2007-08-13T00:07:00.000+09:00

I had a wonderful weekend, thanks for asking.

Friday was a good start with an adventure to Maebashi and a chance to meet some new people, maybe even make some new friends here in Japan.

Saturday was a chance to sleep in a bit and then tucker myself out all over again at a festival in Isesaki. It was a fascinating mix of modern and traditional Japan.

I documented this adventure with my point-and-shoot digital camera, which makes the pictures perfect for sharing (click here).

Today? Today was home day. I did laundry, aired out my futon, and did some cooking and tidying. Oh, and I went out on a scavenger hunt to find that elusive telephone. Success! I located a used one at a nearby shop. The woman wanted $30 for it and basically told me that she wasn’t sure if it would work. I left that as a possible plan B and jumped back on my bike. About an hour later I was at an electronics store. In the fax and telephone department, buried under all the hundred-dollar cordless phones, I found a flyer for a simple little telephone. I used the picture on the flyer to tell the woman behind the cash what I was looking for and she managed to locate the thing for me. Yippee! I plugged in my VOIP line and it seems to work just find.

Sorry, the picture is backwards. That’s an “Excellent Phone.”

The other thing I did today was purchase a $20 futon to put under the one I’m already using. I carried it home about 5 blocks on my head. My bed is so much softer now. And, my home is far homier too. I found a couple of plants and a few postcards for artwork. I’m thinking of investing in a $29 vacuum I found on sale at the nearby home store too. Maybe tomorrow.

The day was so good, in fact, that I thought I would give takoyaki another try. It was better, but still not yummy this time around.

P.S. You can also check out another album (click here) I posted. There are lots of shots of the old house in this one.

Soaking it all in…

2007-08-10T23:06:00.000+09:00

I can’t believe how drenched I got. The only times I’ve possibly ever been wetter would be in the shower or a swimming pool. And, in those situations I am usually not riding a bike in my dress clothes.

I heard the rain as soon as I stepped out of the train station in Ota. It was torrential for most of the twenty minutes it took me to get home. Well, until I was just two blocks from my apartment – then it let up and turned into a gentle shower. My clothes are now hanging to dry and the contents of my bag are spread across the floor of my apartment airing out. I think the cell phone and camera will be okay, but my passport will never be the same.

Today was the official swearing in ceremony for the high school Assistant Language Teachers (ALTs) in Gunma and I made my way to the prefectural capital all on my own by train. It was a good day. I survived my Japanese self-introduction in front of an audience, saw some of the city, ate good food and met some wonderful people.

Generally, I’ve been busy getting settled into my new life in Japan. There is so much to learn and so much to do. I recall some crazy talk about August being a slow, even boring, time for JET (ALTs) because of the summer break. I don’t buy it. I have no shortage of things to do and prepare at school and setting up a new home/life takes a lot of work.

My new home is coming along. I’ve managed to buy a few necessities and even borrow a few things from others. Some of the teachers I work with have lent me an iron for the year and a rice cooker (there was some concern about the rice cooker being so old fashioned but I prefer it because it works just like the one I have at home in Canada.) I even have a futon and blanket on loan from the school.

Obtaining some things has proven to be quite the challenge. In particular, a phone and a knife. In terms of a phone, I can’t seem to find just an old, regular phone that plugs into the wall. I’m not asking for much, just something simple that I can use to set up a VOIP line at a decent price. I found one model at a mall in Ota, but it was sold out. A good, little kitchen knife for cheap was hard to find too. I finally managed to track one down at the grocery store for about $10.50. For that price, I could have bought a whole set from Ikea in Canada. It better slice and dice like a dream.

I’m heading out more on my bike now. I am taking little adventures and trying to get to know the neighbourhood and city where I live. I’ve found a great looking sushi place, some Italian restaurants, a couple of discount shops, a craft store, grocery store, dry cleaners, etc. All things I might need to live comfortably.

And, I’m attempting to learn the culinary side of things too. For example, I’ve discovered that I like agar noodles and other things seaweed, and that I’m not really that into takoyaki (the octopus is yummy, but the dough and mayo are just too greasy for me.)

Tomorrow will be the first morning I am allowing myself to sleep in. It will be a busy afternoon and I’m hoping to take in a couple of festivals in the centre of Gunma. Still getting my feet wet ya know.

Genki Again!

2007-08-07T22:26:00.001+09:00

Hey, I’m back. In more ways than one. It’s been a bit of a crazy week since I last wrote. I traveled from Tokyo to Maebashi with the other JET ALTs, met my new supervisor in a funny, little, semi-official ceremony (I say “semi” because the official appointment ceremony is this Friday), I started a new job, moved into a new house… and then, moved again.

My goodness, what a nightmare the housing situation turned out to be. I arrived at my new house on late Wednesday afternoon with my predecessor, V, who was getting set to leave for Thailand the next morning. She was supposed to show me the ropes and help me settle in. I was to take over the house next door to the one she had been living in. Her roommate, R, also an English teacher was going to stay in her place (a situation that was the source of major stress for me while things were getting sorted in the months before my departure.) D, again an English teacher was in the house I was to inherit and getting set to move in with R. Got it? It’s kind of like that puzzle game where you have to move one square at a time using the one empty space until you complete the picture.

Okay. So I arrive Wednesday night, have some lovely tea with the landlady where she tells us she’s almost done cleaning for me and only has to finish up in the kitchen. Bye, bye, and my supervisor and school vice-principal are off, down the hill. And me? I am left behind in the dirtiest house I have ever been in. It was disgusting and so packed full of garbage, I didn’t know where to begin. Honestly, I must have stood there for an hour in my dress cloths, just staring, panicked.

The landlady walked over with the contract for me to sign and I burst into tears. Her daughter comes over to try and translate and, sobbing, I tell them I am not sure I want to stay there, and I must have said something about all the stuff. What stuff? Okay, here’s a bit of a breakdown. There is ripped and broken furniture everywhere, towels and hangers in the doorways, cupboards FULL of dirty and moldy blankets and futons, toothbrushes and personal hygiene products in every corner (the desk, the kitchen), broken appliances, a mattress with a chunk burnt out of the side, layers of old tatami mats, half eaten food items of all kinds strewn about the kitchen, and a layer of grease like nothing I have ever seen covering the cooking surfaces. (I later found a cupboard full of shoes, brown puddles in the fridge, and baskets full of old linens stashed in strange overhead places, but these things were not an immediate source of stress because I didn’t even know they were there.) That night, we manage to remove what amounted to more than three van trips to the dump the next morning. I counted. Oh, and also that night, we encountered a couple of the largest cockroaches I have ever seen in my life. And, they weren’t just in the kitchen either.

I woke up the next morning at 4:30 am and spent another 3 hours hauling shit out on my own and making attempts to clean up. To be honest, I was pretty sure I would try to tackle the dirt and stay. I even went with one of the teachers from the school that day to purchase cleaning supplies. But, that afternoon, when it was time to head home, I just suddenly felt so depressed, so unhappy about the situation.

It wasn’t just dirt, it was damage too. The screens dividing the rooms were full of holes, the paint had been peeled off the walls in places, stickers on the wood doorways, a burn mark in the tatami. The place was a disaster: the victim of years of short-term, foreign tenants. And, when I realized that I couldn’t even bring myself to eat my granola bar snack in the house, I knew I was in trouble. I hid from the landlady and resolved to speak to my supervisor the next day.

But, when I realized my supervisor was going to be away until Monday, well, I just couldn’t hold the tears back any longer. I started to cry in the teachers’ lounge, right there in front of my new co-workers. They sprung into action. And less than three hours later, I had found a new place. If only the paperwork took the same amount of time. For a new gaijin (foreigner) there were many hoops to jump through. So, while a school staff member, who I think is named Jimmy Joe (sounds that way, anyway), went over the many, many papers, I was whisked away in a chariot – not a joke, that’s a car model – to get special papers from city hall and obtain a cell phone which is a prerequisite for just about everything here. In the end our attempts to get everything done in time for a same-day move were unrealistic. I even had to redo my application for a cell phone after the first company decided my temporary gaijin papers weren’t sufficient.

For approximately $10 CND a night, I spent five nights in the house. Finally, move day arrived and an amazing coordinated effort from the teaching staff once again.

I’ve had the keys to my new aparto for about 29 hours now. I am unpacked and happy to be setting up my new, spick and span home. It’s not ideal. It’s very small, there’s no outside space or traditional Japanese touches like tatami mats, and there are all kinds of weird fees for things. But, it’s very clean and it’s mine. I’m home, finally. No more tears. I am now ready to tackle life in the land where bunnies pound rice nightly (a special prize for the first person to guess that reference, excluding people who’ve lived in Japan and my parents.)

It’s a shame you know. That little house had its charm. It was a real, traditional Japanese house perched on the side of a mountain. It could have been really nice. If any JETs, or other foreign teachers are reading this, please take care of the place where you live. It may be only temporary for you, but someone else will have to live there after you, and after that person, and so on. Neglect is cumulative.

Anyway, on to new adventures, like firework festivals that go on for hours, electronic toilet seats, and grocery stores where I recognize less than 50 per cent of what’s on the shelves.

Ottawa to Ota - Part II

2007-08-01T08:03:00.000+09:00

Wednesday, August 1st
Tokyo, Japan
6:40 AM

Tokyo has been a whirlwind of activity. I wanted to have more time to check out the city while I was here, but jetlag and the JET orientation conference have made that very difficult.

The amount of information here for us is overwhelming. I’ve managed to fill the remaining space in my suitcase with books, maps, flyers, etc. I’ll have to sort it all out another day.

There hasn’t been too much time for exploring Tokyo. Actually, I should say, I haven’t found too much time for exploring Tokyo. I know some of the other people here have managed to sacrifice sleep and information sessions for adventures in the city. But, I live close enough that I expect to be back soon.

I have managed to do a few things around the hotel in the Shinjuku area. On Monday morning, Sonia and I went out to explore and watch people make their way to work between the various shops and skyscrapers. The people were very well dressed and moved in large groups, quickly along the sidewalks. They came by in hurried waves, eyes averted. The stores, restaurants and pachinko parlors lined streets that almost looked like back allies.

In the evening, I went out with other JETs from my prefecture. We ended up at a 6th floor izakaya (Japanese bar) for nomihodai. Nomihodai is basically an all you can drink or eat type thing. We each paid about $15 CND for all we could drink in two hours (beer, whisky and sours – fruity type drinks), and $10 for all you can eat: salads, fish and beef to grill, pizza, beef patties, tofu, sashimi, shrimp tempura, chicken wings… a real feast.

By the time we were ready to head back to the hotel, it was absolutely pouring rain. The sidewalks were just streaming with water and my sandals turned into little portable puddles strapped to my feet. I purchased my first new belonging in Japan, a clear, plastic umbrella for about $2. It did a good job of keeping my head dry, but not much else as the rain came in sideways.

I capped off my visit to Tokyo last night by taking in a view of the city at night. Lovely and sprawling, there is so much more to explore. I’ll have to come back.

Now, it is time for us all to leave the cocoon that is the Keio Plaza Hotel. I’m off to Gunma to meet my supervisor, board and school officials, and see my new home in Ota.

Ottawa to Ota - Part I

2007-07-29T22:56:00.002+09:00

Saturday, July 28, 2007
Approximately 8:00 ET
My cat has launched a mini protest to my imminent departure. He’s sprawled on my luggage and is pouting, head on paws. Big eyes looking up at me.
I’ve been up for about an hour getting ready and packing a few last items. I’m pretty much ready to go but relieved to have a little more time to pace my departure.
I missed saying goodbye to Chloe last night. Chloe is the five-year-old girl who lives next door and it was important to me not to disappear on her – one day there, the next in Japan.
Last night had been a marathon packing session. Everything was in piles around the apartment, but arranging things in my bags seemed to take a little more time than I had expected.

Approximately 10:00 ET
We arrive at the airport in Ottawa. Noah helps me with my luggage. Somehow, I manage to keep my bags on the cart for exactly five seconds before the whole load topples over. Otherwise, the check in is very uneventful and I’m pleasantly surprised to find that my suitcases are well below the weight limit (although, it makes me question whether or not I should have brought more teaching supplies and gifts.)
Noah stays with me until it’s time to go through security and head to the gate. I cry. I didn’t mean for it to be a tearful goodbye. It was just so hard to end that hug knowing that I wouldn’t be able to share an embrace with him for at least several months.
I pass through security and see Noah watching me from the glass window above. More tears on my part.

Approximately 11:00 ET
We’ve boarded the first plane and are slowly making our way across the tarmac to the runway.
It ‘s raining. I watch the raindrops streak down the small airplane window; gathering drops and depositing new ones as they fall.
The pilot warns us about turbulence. He says the landing was a bit “rippled.”

12:05 ET
The plane makes a very shaky landing at Pearson Airport in Toronto. I become overwhelming nauseous.
I remember the pilot said we would be in Toronto at noon, right on time. What’s with these extra minutes of jiggling torture? The pair behind me decides to talk about their favourite breakfast sandwiches: bacon, cheese, eggs… I don’t see a barf bag.
Somehow we land without incident. There’s just enough time to find lunch and make a few phone calls before our next flight.

16:06 ET
Our departure was delayed by about half an hour. But we’re now on our way and I’ve settled into my little spot on the plane. I have an aisle seat. Normally, I prefer to be by the window, but I feel surprisingly liberated next to the aisle and have already taken advantage of the situation by taking a quick opportunity to visit with Sonia just a few seats up.
The seat next to me is empty so I am able to spread and stretch out a bit. I’m traveling in relative comfort on a new 777 jet. Each passenger has his or her own screen for videos and there are 22 movies to choose from, plus television shows and other features.
Relaxed and at ease, my eyelids are already feeling heavy.
I’m not sure if it’s lunch or dinner, but I can smell it coming.

22:05 ET
I think we’re somewhere over Siberia and I’m tired. About 5 more hours to go. More than 50 per cent of the flight is over and done with and so far it’s been easy – a short nap, hours chatting, plenty of snacks, and I even survived a trip to the bathroom (I hate airplane bathrooms – they’re dirty, cramped little spaces with toilettes that could suck your clothes right off when flushed.)
Some of the other JETs seem to be on a bit of a drinking marathon. And, lucky me, the party’s HQ is the row just to my left and it has spilled out into the aisle. It’s amusing enough, but noisy and I’m worried that someone will start a vomit chain reaction (if someone pukes near me, I’ll barf and it will just get worse from there.
Too bad I didn’t pack earplugs.
Oh no, a wine “chug off “ challenge has just been issued.
Are we there yet?

Sunday, July 29, 2007
01:35 ET (14:35 Tokyo time)
The drinking subsided about an hour after the chug challenge. Not so much by choice, but rather because the attendants decided some people needed to be cut off.
I slept a little and it was mostly fitful. Even with the extra seat, it was very difficult to find a comfortable position and there was a constant din of noise. Or, maybe it was the fact that our plane has quite successfully been chasing the sun: constant mid-daylight outside the windows.
We don’t have much further to go now. The crew announced that a third meal was about to be served and that we would be landing shortly after that. Breakfast? No, chicken.

22:48 Tokyo time
I’m ready to fall over. But, before I do, I just wanted to say, I’m in Tokyo! Mostly just checking out the hotel so far. It’s raining here and the rain and thunder make it a little less tempting to walk around. Sonia and I made an attempt to find a sky view of the city and a snack, but failed on both accounts. More than anything right now, I just want to sleep.

Less than 48 hours to go…

2007-07-27T05:39:00.002+09:00

I’m an absolute, total bundle of nerves right now. My skin is pins and needles, my tummy is churning, my palms are sweaty, and I’m feeling consistently, slightly dazed.

I’m walking around in a fog today. So much to do, and yet everything seems twice as hard as it should be. And I’m not with it the way I should be. I went for a hair cut this afternoon and only realized I had followed the wrong woman to the back of the salon when she turned to me and asked me to please remove my pants. In the end, I did find my way to the hairdresser’s chair and I even remembered to pay before I left.

People have told me they think I’m brave to pack up and head to Japan for a year. Up until now, I’ve disagreed with them. ‘Til now, it was easy; just lists to make and complete. But now that I’m almost on the plane, I’m feeling scared and inexplicitly sad. In fact, I feel a little like the way I remember feeling before undergoing oral surgery to remove my wisdom teeth – I’m nervous about what this will all feel like, worried about being able to put my trust in others for my well being, and hoping I make it through feeling stronger than before the whole procedure.

I think I’ll be fine, especially if I remember to keep breathing.

A Patriotic Moment

2007-07-24T01:45:00.001+09:00

That’s me with a Mountie. The picture was snapped up on Parliament Hill on Canada Day. I thought it would be fun to have a photo of me posing with such a notable Canadian symbol to show some of the students in Japan.

As I was looking at the picture, a funny realization hit me. For the next year, while I am living and teaching in Japan, I too will be a symbol of Canada. Yes, I am about to join the ranks of the RCMP, the maple leaf, and the beaver. (In her natural habitat, the Odelia can be found snacking on granola bars and producing interviews.)

Speaking of the beaver, there’s a Canadian symbol that needs to be presented with a little bit of context.

Two weeks ago, I went to the Aboriginal Experience on Victoria Island here in Ottawa with a Japanese woman named Harumi. There was food to try, and dancing, and tours. And, there was a pile of pelts visitors could look at and touch. Well, we pulled out the beaver pelt. Harumi looked at it, touched it. The conversation went sort of like this:

“What’s this?”
“Fur from a beaver.”
“A beaver?”
“Yes, the animal is a symbol of Canada. Look, it’s on the back of the Canadian nickel.”
“That’s from a beaver!?!?”
“Yes.”
“But it’s so small. I thought the beaver was MUCH bigger.”

Ah yes, the mighty beaver. He can cut down trees and dam up rivers, we name snacks after parts of his body, and his image adorns our currency. He’s even credited as being one of the main reasons Europeans were so gosh darn interested in this land to begin with. But, he’s still a rodent. And, when he’s depicted with tree stumps and logs…
… those aren’t redwoods he’s standing next to.

Then again, maybe beefing up the beaver’s image isn’t such a bad idea. I come from Canada, land of the mighty beaver. I saw one once in the forest and live to tell the tale…

Sake knocks me out and other confessions of a soon to be JET

2007-07-12T05:29:00.001+09:00

I’m wondering how on earth I’m going to pack up my life into two 32 kg bags.

I’m feeling a little homesick already and risk overdosing on my favourite things, foods, places, and people.

I’m nervous about my housing and hoping it will be clean, and quiet, and homey and even warm.

I’m worried I’ll have just a sip of sake and be too gosh, darn drunk to find my way home and be unable to ask for directions even in English, never mind Japanese.

I’m not sure how much Japanese I’ll be able to learn.

I’m anxious about teaching in such a formal setting for the first time. What if I open my mouth and nothing comes out? What if something comes out and none of the students react? What if all of the students react and they hate me?

I’m afraid of getting lost; or, not being able to find myself.

I’m pretty sure I’ll end up wearing the bathroom slippers out of the bathroom at least once.

I’m practicing squatting so I don’t end up falling into a toilet.

I’m hoping to get my feet wet, but not get entirely drenched.

I’m already stressing about the job hunt when I return.

I’m concerned that my loving partner of nine years will find a new love.

I’m thinking what if I love

Japan

so much, I never want to leave?

Inaugural Message

2007-07-08T00:39:00.002+09:00

Ouch! My left arm is still aching. Who knew international travel includes so many visits with doctors? Thursday was the visit to the travel medical clinic and I ended up with a series of three injections. The doctor was very equitable and made sure each arm got at least one stab. I think for one, she may have used a drill bit instead of a syringe. I could have had a few more, but I decided not to be greedy.

So, welcome to my blog – my space to share the experience of Japan. I’m so glad you’ve decided to come along for the ride. I’ll try to keep it interesting (but, I make no promises.)

I guess I should start and the beginning, this being my first post and all. And, in conversations with friends and family (heck, even total strangers – I’ve been broadcasting my impending trip for several weeks now), I’ve discovered that there are a few basic questions people ask right off the bat. I’ll begin with the obvious and you can feel free to add to the list.

Why are you going to Japan?
Because, it’s seems like a good way to grow and explore, both professionally and as an individual. It’s been a dream of mine for more than 15 years and I was getting a little tired of crossing things off my dream list without even making an attempt.

Why Japan in particular?
I’ve hear great things about the place; fascinating things about the culture, the food, the geography, and the people. I really want to go somewhere totally different from home and far, far away. I want somewhere safe and pleasant. And, as far as I can tell right now, the JET Programme is fantastic. Lots of help along the way with things like travel plans, training, employment, pay, housing. In a way, I’m not really going all alone. I’m going on my own, but with a wonderful support system to back me up. I also like that I’ll be working for the public school system in Japan instead of private companies.
My sister was a JET several years ago. She loved it and since then, my family has developed a bit of a connection with Nihon.

Why now?
Hmm… Good question, actually. I know this is the kind of adventure that people usually pursue right after university and I’m painfully aware that I’m older than many of my counterparts. I guess the answer is, to quote an old Rabbi, “if not now, when?” This is something I’ve wanted to do for years, but the timing was never right. The timing still isn’t perfect, but I don’t see any possible moment in the future when it could improve. As a young journalist, I’ve spent the last number of years freelancing and bouncing between contracts – i.e. I’m not walking away from a permanent job, pension, etc. I’m not married. I don’t have a mortgage. At the same time, I feel a strong desire to take a big step back from all that I do have right now. I need to examine things from a distance and learn more about the world and myself.

How long are you going for?
The plan right now, is for just one year. I expect to return to Canada in August or September of 2008.

Where will you be living?
Ota! It’s a small city about 100 km north of Tokyo (about an hour and a half from centre to centre.) It’s located in the eastern part of a prefecture call Gunma, which I understand is a hidden gem, not yet extolled by the guidebook writers. The population is about 200,000 or so. I’ve seen some conflicting numbers, so I’m not sure about the size. I hear it’s a relatively international city due to its manufacturing sector. I am told there are sizable South Asian and Brazilian communities there.
My actual home? Well, that’s turned out to be a bit of a long story. But, if all goes as planned, I’ll have a small two bedroom house near the school where I’ll be working. I understood something about a hillside and a river with koi fish. I think the homes are a little on the old side and most of the neighbours are either other English teachers or elderly Japanese people. Oh, and two of the rooms have tatami mats. Yay! I’m not sure how much other stuff I’ll have, and how much I’ll be left to acquire.

What age group will you teach?
I’ve been posted at an all girls senior high school. I will be teaching the equivalent of grades 10 and 11 at a very academic school four days a week. On Fridays, I’m posted at another high school in the area that I know very little about. I’m thinking the powers that be must think my age and journalism background might be positive factors for working with an older and more academic group of students. I’m already dreading the tricky grammar questions.

Is Noah going with you?
Nope. He’s got another, final year of school to finish off while I’m away. He thought about applying years ago but decided not to. It’s become obvious to me that if this is something I want to do, I’ll have to go it alone. I’ve always been drawn to travel and I’d love to do more work internationally. This is who I am and if it means Noah and I will be apart for a while, I’ve decided it’s something that’s essential to my happiness in the long run.
I’m hoping Noah will come to visit me. He’s already talking about a possible trip in January.

Are you excited?
Yes.

Are you nervous?
Yes.

Do you know any Japanese?
Hai! (Yes.) Okay, not really. But I’m learning a little here and there and already practicing my self introduction. Watashi wa Odelia desu.

I know, not the most exciting first post. But, it’ll ramp up from here. I promise. As my departure date draws nearer, I’ll have an ever increasing list of anxieties, etc. to share. I just couldn’t bare to look at an empty blog any longer.

GO