20080924
Today I reached a point in the third-year English text where I had to read a story out loud to the class about the bombing of Hiroshima. Standing in front of my students, reading a simple but painfully tragic story about the United States' atrocious act against Japanese civilians, I'm a confused jumble of emotions. As I read the sad description of a little girl and boy struggling to comfort each other as the sit beneath a tree slowly succumbing to a gruesome, painful death, my voice cracks a little and my eyes start to well up with tears. I feel an awkward urge to apologize to the class: to recognize the fact that, in this room, I am the sole representative of a people group who committed a horrible, contemptible act of violence against their people group. I want their forgiveness. And yet I know it's not the time and place and that an apology might not carry much weight when made by a person who wasn't even born until some forty years after the fact. Or maybe it would have value. Who knows? Regardless, I made no personal epilogue, simply read the questions for the corresponding true-false quiz, still a confusion of emotions, still desiring some form of absolution.
20080921
reality setting in
Last night I visited a big yellow castle; I watched people drink beer out of mugs with pictures of cute cartoon cats on them; I sat on tatami mats and belted lyrics into a microphone as they appeared on a TV screen. For the second time in the three-and-a-half weeks that I've been living here, I had one of those "Whoa: I'm in Japan" moments.
The first one came only two days ago when I payed my first visit to sho gakko (elementary school) and gave four English lessons to first through fourth graders. Midday, I had lunch with the ni nensei (second year) class. The children I sat with seemed eager to explain to me how to eat Japanese food and inquired several times as to how I felt about nattou (nasty rotten soybean snot food that I tasted for the first time on Thursday). I explained to them in my meager Japanese that I didn't understand much, but this didn't stop them from repeating their questions over and over, speaking very slowly as if this would somehow assist me to recognize the completely unfamiliar words they were using. As the "conversation" reached a lull, I simply allowed myself to look around the room at the students and their teacher, chatting, laughing, and shoveling mouthfuls of rice and nattou with their chopsticks. Every single one of these kids was so stinking cute. And that's when it hit me. All of a sudden, like the image in a 3D mystery picture coming into focus after I had been staring at it forever and seeing nothing but fuzz. I am freaking in Japan! Before leaving California, I had wondered and wondered just how long it would take for it to set in. And now I have the answer: precisely three weeks after arriving in the country.
Maybe this seems like a long time; but, at this moment, lying on my bed in my tatami-floored room, typing away on my MacBook, I sort of feel like I'm back in my bubble of non-reality. This morning I went out for brunch with my roommate, Jennifer, and two of our new Japanese friends, Toshi and Kosuke. I had a mayonnaise pizza (!?!?!?) which was shockingly delicious. In the afternoon I rode my bike in the rain to the grocery store and regretted not bringing an umbrella because the acidity of the precipitation here really fries my hair. This evening we watched half a Hayao Miyazaki film on Jennifer's laptop and now I'm getting ready for bed so that I can get up early and get ready for school again tomorrow. And the whole thing sort of just feels like a haze.
Last night was the second time I've been out for karaoke since arriving in Japan. The first was at the "second party" of my enkai (company party) that followed Undokai two weeks ago. That had been crazy. (Imagine sitting in a tiny karaoke bar with half of your co-workers, including your principal, all of whom are fantastically drunk and all-too eager to pick out songs for you to leap up on stage to preform. Some of these songs are going to be quite tame, like The Beatles' "Yellow Submarine." And inevitably one of these songs is going to be Madonna's "Like a Virgin." But you just have to say "hai" and go with the flow.) Going out last night with people more my age made for a very different karaoke experience. There were ten of us in all--six Americans and four Japanese--and we went to a karaoke bar that looked like and enormous cartoon castle and rented out our own room for three hours. It's no wonder that karaoke has achieved popularity outside of Nippon.
I apologize for the rambling nature of this particular post. Again I'm sort of weighed down by the fact that I don't often have the time or energy to sit down and blog. And, when I do, the overwhelming array of things I could write about is so daunting that I have an incredibly difficult time focusing on any one thing but feel pressure to somehow compress all my experiences from the last week or two into three or four barely coherent paragraphs. Forgive me. For next time, I'll do my best to squeeze an hour out of my hazy existence to compose a blog entry when I'm not already dead tired and struggling to account for the last two weeks that I haven't been updating my friends and family on the numerous ongoings of my new Japanese life. Until then.
The first one came only two days ago when I payed my first visit to sho gakko (elementary school) and gave four English lessons to first through fourth graders. Midday, I had lunch with the ni nensei (second year) class. The children I sat with seemed eager to explain to me how to eat Japanese food and inquired several times as to how I felt about nattou (nasty rotten soybean snot food that I tasted for the first time on Thursday). I explained to them in my meager Japanese that I didn't understand much, but this didn't stop them from repeating their questions over and over, speaking very slowly as if this would somehow assist me to recognize the completely unfamiliar words they were using. As the "conversation" reached a lull, I simply allowed myself to look around the room at the students and their teacher, chatting, laughing, and shoveling mouthfuls of rice and nattou with their chopsticks. Every single one of these kids was so stinking cute. And that's when it hit me. All of a sudden, like the image in a 3D mystery picture coming into focus after I had been staring at it forever and seeing nothing but fuzz. I am freaking in Japan! Before leaving California, I had wondered and wondered just how long it would take for it to set in. And now I have the answer: precisely three weeks after arriving in the country.
Maybe this seems like a long time; but, at this moment, lying on my bed in my tatami-floored room, typing away on my MacBook, I sort of feel like I'm back in my bubble of non-reality. This morning I went out for brunch with my roommate, Jennifer, and two of our new Japanese friends, Toshi and Kosuke. I had a mayonnaise pizza (!?!?!?) which was shockingly delicious. In the afternoon I rode my bike in the rain to the grocery store and regretted not bringing an umbrella because the acidity of the precipitation here really fries my hair. This evening we watched half a Hayao Miyazaki film on Jennifer's laptop and now I'm getting ready for bed so that I can get up early and get ready for school again tomorrow. And the whole thing sort of just feels like a haze.
Last night was the second time I've been out for karaoke since arriving in Japan. The first was at the "second party" of my enkai (company party) that followed Undokai two weeks ago. That had been crazy. (Imagine sitting in a tiny karaoke bar with half of your co-workers, including your principal, all of whom are fantastically drunk and all-too eager to pick out songs for you to leap up on stage to preform. Some of these songs are going to be quite tame, like The Beatles' "Yellow Submarine." And inevitably one of these songs is going to be Madonna's "Like a Virgin." But you just have to say "hai" and go with the flow.) Going out last night with people more my age made for a very different karaoke experience. There were ten of us in all--six Americans and four Japanese--and we went to a karaoke bar that looked like and enormous cartoon castle and rented out our own room for three hours. It's no wonder that karaoke has achieved popularity outside of Nippon.
I apologize for the rambling nature of this particular post. Again I'm sort of weighed down by the fact that I don't often have the time or energy to sit down and blog. And, when I do, the overwhelming array of things I could write about is so daunting that I have an incredibly difficult time focusing on any one thing but feel pressure to somehow compress all my experiences from the last week or two into three or four barely coherent paragraphs. Forgive me. For next time, I'll do my best to squeeze an hour out of my hazy existence to compose a blog entry when I'm not already dead tired and struggling to account for the last two weeks that I haven't been updating my friends and family on the numerous ongoings of my new Japanese life. Until then.
20080910
Undokai! [Sports Day]
It's becoming incredibly difficult to bring myself to add to this blog because there is simply too much to say. As of tomorrow I will have been in Japan for two weeks and I can't make up my mind whether that sounds like too long or too short. The numerous new experiences I've had since arriving makes it feel like I've been here forever, and yet the days seem to fly by...
For now I'll settle with saying a few words about Undokai on Saturday.
All last week, classes at my school were for the most part forgone in order to allow ample time for the students to practice for Undokai. What this meant for me was that my first three days at Yamazaki Junior High were spent mostly sitting outside in the altogether daunting heat and humidity and observing their rehearsals. Whenever my head would start to nod, I would keep myself awake by standing up and walking around or -- if she was anywhere nearby -- asking questions of Mrs. Shimowada concerning what the students were doing. For the most part, I was quite baffled by the strange behavior of the children running about on the sports field. Much of the "rehearsal" consisted of the students miming the sports they would actually be playing on Saturday. At one point, my English teacher leaned over and told me, "Now the students will rehears the game where they push the huge ball." Excited by the prospect of seeing an enormous ball, my eyes perked up and I asked, "Where is the huge ball now?" "Oh!" She replied, "It will be there on Saturday!" Sure enough, three groups of children were running across the field, pretending to push a large ball that wasn't actually there. I managed to stifle a laugh. I told this story to Doug, one of the AETs who has been in Moka for a while. He was unsurprised. "When Japanese rehearse," he said, "they rehearse everything."
Sports Day itself could be summarized most accurately as follows: it was long, and it was warm. It was the day that I learned the Japanese for "hot" -- atsui -- because I heard everyone around me muttering it repeatedly all day as they fanned themselves viciously with pieces of paper and plastic fans. Sitting to the side among the students, I learned that junior high schoolers basically smell the same in every country. The combination of the heat, the humidity, and my inability to comprehend anything that was being said throughout the ceremony led me to doze off. Yet, as soon as this happened, I was awakened by the sound of both my English teachers -- Mrs. Shimowada and Mr. Ishikawa -- coming toward me and shouting, "Meghan Sensei! Please come help us!"
The schedule of the day had come to a track event in which the students were required to run through a sort of obstacle course. At the final stage of the race, they would pick up a card which would give them instructions on how to get the rest of the way to the finish line. It might say something like, "Hop on one leg," or, "Take a female teacher," or, "Ride on a teacher's back." At first the students were too shy to acknowledge my presence and other female teachers got snatched up while I stood by and watched the finish of each race. However, once one student worked up the nerve to grab my hand and run, I became the new favorite. Each time, I sprinted with all I had in me in order to keep up with these junior high boys who run faster than I can see. Still, they seemed to drag me along with them. At the end of four races, the muscles in my legs felt like they had turned into tofu. But at least I was awake again.
The unbearable humidity persisted through the afternoon and the sun continued to scorch the sports field; but as the Sports Day drew near its close, dark clouds began looming in the distance. A young man who was there to see his younger sibling came up to chat with me and said, "It's going to rain tonight." Throughout the entire closing ceremony, thunder boomed and drowned out half of my school principle's speech. And as the students marched off the field, the clouds opened up and it started to pour.
I really love it when it rains here. I don't mind riding my bike in it because the air is still hot and I know that when I get home I can towel off and change my clothes. No problem. And yet, as of a couple days ago, it seems that the weather is beginning to shift into autumn mode. The air is drier and the mornings cooler. I hardly sweat at all on my bike ride to school this morning. Marvelous. Even though I've already grown accustomed to the humidity, I'm looking forward to sweaters and hot tea and early sunsets. When I asked my English Elective class students today what their favorite season was, none of them said Summer. "Too hot," they explained. Most of them said Fall or Winter. I did not tell them this, but they've made me very excited.
For now I'll settle with saying a few words about Undokai on Saturday.
All last week, classes at my school were for the most part forgone in order to allow ample time for the students to practice for Undokai. What this meant for me was that my first three days at Yamazaki Junior High were spent mostly sitting outside in the altogether daunting heat and humidity and observing their rehearsals. Whenever my head would start to nod, I would keep myself awake by standing up and walking around or -- if she was anywhere nearby -- asking questions of Mrs. Shimowada concerning what the students were doing. For the most part, I was quite baffled by the strange behavior of the children running about on the sports field. Much of the "rehearsal" consisted of the students miming the sports they would actually be playing on Saturday. At one point, my English teacher leaned over and told me, "Now the students will rehears the game where they push the huge ball." Excited by the prospect of seeing an enormous ball, my eyes perked up and I asked, "Where is the huge ball now?" "Oh!" She replied, "It will be there on Saturday!" Sure enough, three groups of children were running across the field, pretending to push a large ball that wasn't actually there. I managed to stifle a laugh. I told this story to Doug, one of the AETs who has been in Moka for a while. He was unsurprised. "When Japanese rehearse," he said, "they rehearse everything."
Sports Day itself could be summarized most accurately as follows: it was long, and it was warm. It was the day that I learned the Japanese for "hot" -- atsui -- because I heard everyone around me muttering it repeatedly all day as they fanned themselves viciously with pieces of paper and plastic fans. Sitting to the side among the students, I learned that junior high schoolers basically smell the same in every country. The combination of the heat, the humidity, and my inability to comprehend anything that was being said throughout the ceremony led me to doze off. Yet, as soon as this happened, I was awakened by the sound of both my English teachers -- Mrs. Shimowada and Mr. Ishikawa -- coming toward me and shouting, "Meghan Sensei! Please come help us!"
The schedule of the day had come to a track event in which the students were required to run through a sort of obstacle course. At the final stage of the race, they would pick up a card which would give them instructions on how to get the rest of the way to the finish line. It might say something like, "Hop on one leg," or, "Take a female teacher," or, "Ride on a teacher's back." At first the students were too shy to acknowledge my presence and other female teachers got snatched up while I stood by and watched the finish of each race. However, once one student worked up the nerve to grab my hand and run, I became the new favorite. Each time, I sprinted with all I had in me in order to keep up with these junior high boys who run faster than I can see. Still, they seemed to drag me along with them. At the end of four races, the muscles in my legs felt like they had turned into tofu. But at least I was awake again.
The unbearable humidity persisted through the afternoon and the sun continued to scorch the sports field; but as the Sports Day drew near its close, dark clouds began looming in the distance. A young man who was there to see his younger sibling came up to chat with me and said, "It's going to rain tonight." Throughout the entire closing ceremony, thunder boomed and drowned out half of my school principle's speech. And as the students marched off the field, the clouds opened up and it started to pour.
I really love it when it rains here. I don't mind riding my bike in it because the air is still hot and I know that when I get home I can towel off and change my clothes. No problem. And yet, as of a couple days ago, it seems that the weather is beginning to shift into autumn mode. The air is drier and the mornings cooler. I hardly sweat at all on my bike ride to school this morning. Marvelous. Even though I've already grown accustomed to the humidity, I'm looking forward to sweaters and hot tea and early sunsets. When I asked my English Elective class students today what their favorite season was, none of them said Summer. "Too hot," they explained. Most of them said Fall or Winter. I did not tell them this, but they've made me very excited.
20080904
a word about bugs
Japan has a greater abundance of large insects than any place I have ever been before. Whether it's praying mantises, cacophonous cicadas, poisonous caterpillars, wasps, killer bees, flying ants, mosquitoes, enormous cockroaches, or spiders the size of small cats, none of them seem shy about making their presence known at all hours of the day. And they all seem to have one thing in common: an insatiable appetite for my blood. Though the problem seems to have subsided somewhat since I purchased a spray can of "Mushi Bye-Bye" from the local grocery store, I still have myriad constellations across my legs, arms, and torso displaying the proud handiwork of many a diligent mosquito or biting ant. The predicament leads me to look forward to the colder autumn months when the little biting fiends will go into hibernation.
On another note, today I turned twenty-three years old. I'm usually not a fan of birthdays and the way they make a person the awkward center of attention for no other reason other than having been born (big deal: 6.692 billion other people in the world have achieved this, too, no thanks to any effort or desire on their own part); however, today proved to be very pleasant. After a looooooong first day at school, which consisted entirely of me sitting and observing school rehearsals for Sports Day on Saturday, I met up with my fellow AETs and we went out for dinner at Taj Mahal, the local Indian food restaurant. It was very oishii (delicious), and I'm sure I'll return again to enjoy another helping of spicy vegetable curry and "robstar" (menu's misspelling of Lobster).
Tomorrow will be my first day actually participating in the classroom. Shimowada sensei, my first English teacher, tells me that the students will introduce themselves to me and that, after that, she has a lot of instruction that she has to get through on her own. My other English teacher--Ishikawa sensei--I have still not really spoken with beyond a curt self-introduction he made to me before hurrying off to his homeroom class this morning. They both seem like nice people, but the craziness of preparing for Undokai (Sports Day) has prevented them from having many opportunities to talk with me. This will probably change next week when the school reverts to normal scheduling.
And suddenly I realize how late it is and remember that I have to get up again at six o'clock tomorrow morning and ride my bike three miles to school. It will be a pleasant ride, I'm sure, as it has been the two other times that I have made it. But I will need my energy to make it there on time. That said, goodnight and sayoonara.
On another note, today I turned twenty-three years old. I'm usually not a fan of birthdays and the way they make a person the awkward center of attention for no other reason other than having been born (big deal: 6.692 billion other people in the world have achieved this, too, no thanks to any effort or desire on their own part); however, today proved to be very pleasant. After a looooooong first day at school, which consisted entirely of me sitting and observing school rehearsals for Sports Day on Saturday, I met up with my fellow AETs and we went out for dinner at Taj Mahal, the local Indian food restaurant. It was very oishii (delicious), and I'm sure I'll return again to enjoy another helping of spicy vegetable curry and "robstar" (menu's misspelling of Lobster).
Tomorrow will be my first day actually participating in the classroom. Shimowada sensei, my first English teacher, tells me that the students will introduce themselves to me and that, after that, she has a lot of instruction that she has to get through on her own. My other English teacher--Ishikawa sensei--I have still not really spoken with beyond a curt self-introduction he made to me before hurrying off to his homeroom class this morning. They both seem like nice people, but the craziness of preparing for Undokai (Sports Day) has prevented them from having many opportunities to talk with me. This will probably change next week when the school reverts to normal scheduling.
And suddenly I realize how late it is and remember that I have to get up again at six o'clock tomorrow morning and ride my bike three miles to school. It will be a pleasant ride, I'm sure, as it has been the two other times that I have made it. But I will need my energy to make it there on time. That said, goodnight and sayoonara.
20080902
home at last
With wireless internet freshly installed in my house, I am finally able to sit down and take the time to publish my first update from Japan! On Wednesday, August 27 at 1:04 PM, I and my fellow AETs left LAX airport and arrived eleven hours later in Narita Airport, Tokyo on Thursday, August 28 around 5:00 PM. Time is a funny, funny thing and I don't pretend to comprehend it. The next couple of days were a blur of combating jet-lag as we trudged through a procession of meeting the superintendent of the board of education and the mayor of Moka; procuring national health cards and registering for our gaijin (foreigner) cards; setting up bank accounts and filling out tax forms. It seems absurd to realize that I've only been in the country for six days. A month, perhaps, would feel more like it, and I haven't actually even started working at school yet!
Already I'm quite clear on the fact that I must learn Japanese if I'm to get the most out of my time living in Japan. Prospects are good, however, since according to my observations so far, Japanese seem to use the same handful of phrases over and over again for a wide variety of situations. Every interaction I have, I seem to hear:
Perhaps.
Already I've learned that a few Japanese words and a lot of elaborate sign language can get you far.
Pictures from my new life are soon to come. As I said to the teachers at Yamazaki Chu Gakko in my speech of introduction yesterday, "Please be patient with me." I am doing my best to take things as they come and absorb my new surroundings without neglecting my other responsibilities. This includes learning Japanese as well as maintaining contact with people back in the States and in other countries that are not Japan. So, although I want to continue to elaborate on the idiosyncrasies of daily life that have already surfaced since my arrival in this country, the need to go to bed and get some sleep requires that I save these things for later. Until then, know that I am well and loving Japan. Thanks for reading.
Already I'm quite clear on the fact that I must learn Japanese if I'm to get the most out of my time living in Japan. Prospects are good, however, since according to my observations so far, Japanese seem to use the same handful of phrases over and over again for a wide variety of situations. Every interaction I have, I seem to hear:
hai (Yes)With these five phrases I feel just about ready to take on the entire Japanese archipelago. If I want to ask for assistance while in the grocery store in discerning the difference between two kinds of tofu, however, I might want to work on extending my vocabulary.
arigato gozaimasu (Thank you)
sumimasen (Excuse me)
gomennasai (Sorry)
daijobu (It's okay/fine)
Perhaps.
Already I've learned that a few Japanese words and a lot of elaborate sign language can get you far.
Pictures from my new life are soon to come. As I said to the teachers at Yamazaki Chu Gakko in my speech of introduction yesterday, "Please be patient with me." I am doing my best to take things as they come and absorb my new surroundings without neglecting my other responsibilities. This includes learning Japanese as well as maintaining contact with people back in the States and in other countries that are not Japan. So, although I want to continue to elaborate on the idiosyncrasies of daily life that have already surfaced since my arrival in this country, the need to go to bed and get some sleep requires that I save these things for later. Until then, know that I am well and loving Japan. Thanks for reading.
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