New York is beautiful and amazing and wonderful and freezing. Beyond freezing. It's hovering around -10˚C, but it feels like -18˚C, according to weather.com. Yesterday it was warm enough to wear my leather jacket. What happened???
My second night in town, I went with my parents to see Joan Wasser and Joseph Arthur at the Bowery Ballroom, which rocked (especially being at a "reserved" table rather than being in the crush. And, Joan called my mom a "babe," so it must be true!) They recorded the concert and were selling CDs afterwards, so, unlike my parents, I stuck around until the end and got one. One of the computers crashed, so it took longer than they expected, but I was wide awake and didn't mind. I started to walk home, but I decided I was hungry and by sheer luck I was able to find Mark as he stumbled out of a bar in the East Village. (Okay, he didn't stumble until I went up from behind and pushed him over!) We went over to the newly redone Kiev and had borsht, perogies, smoked fish, and 2-for-1 martinis. (I needed to get sleepy, and a beet martini seemed like a good idea). At 2:30, I was still pretty hyped up. When I got home, my mother was sitting around worrying.
Other than that, I've shopped, eaten latkes, seen a show about Molly Picon, seen Bishop Allen play, tried to stop saying "yo" after my sentences or using Japanese at all with non-Japanese speakers, marveled at our gorgeous supermarkets, and gotten a haircut. I love New York, I remember now...
I know everyone reading this doesn't care about New York - you already live here. But don't want to get out of the habit.
Tuesday, December 21, 2004
Wednesday, December 08, 2004
Happy Hanukkah!
This week has been a flurry of Hanukkah activity. Yesterday, we made latkes in Couch Potatoes, sang "Ma Ot'zur" and "Hanukkah oh Hanukkah," and lit candles. Today, at my smallest (and favorite) school, we had a Hanukkah party-ish thing. In preparation, I had taught one of the teachers "Hanukkah oh Hanukkah" to teach the kids. I explained menora, the hora, sivivon, and latkes. She forgot the tune, but got as far as she could with the kids - she even made a poster with pictures of a menorah and dreidl. I was quite impressed. Unfortunately, the kids were all singing some funeral dirge about a festival that was supposed to be happy. In the morning classes, we did a pretty good job of learning the more widely recognized tune, and then practiced a few Jewish folk dances that we would do at the party. One of my first graders kept asking when we would get to the "shibibon" (dreidl - his pronunciation of sivivon) part of the day. It was so cute I could hardly contain myself. I danced so hard, I'm completely exhausted. I even got the fifth and sixth graders to do the flying hora. I think the party was pretty much a success. We did the "Hanukkah Speed Gamble Game" (a quiz I made in Japanese where teams wager "Mia dollars" for their answers - the kids LOVE this game), we danced a lot, we played dreidl, and we sang Hanukkah oh Hanukkah and Silent Night, which has nothing to do with Hanukkah, but there's a nice Japanese version, and everyone here loves Christmas..
As much as I still believe kids are kids no matter where, today I really felt some of the differences. For example, when we were playing dreidle, I had about one chocolate coin per kid, and then about eight extras. I didn't know how to distribute them, and we told them to just divide them either by Rock-Paper-Scissors or breaking them into pieces. As much as they had been excited when they saw the coins and then oohed and aahed over the "smell of chocolate," half the kids started saying, "Oh, it's okay, we can just give the extras back to Mia." I told them I didn't want them, and they proceded to janken (r-p-s) for them. But I was really shocked. No fighting or crying. I mean, I was never a competitive kid, and I now understand that even chocolate has a limited appeal (not that limited, but it only goes so far) - but this is an elementary school, and the kids were just completely orderly about the whole situation. Also, while kids will try to grab Mia dollars out of my hands, my bags, each other's hands, they still haven't gotten the idea that when I give them as prizes, they get to keep them (until I think of something they can redeem them for!) - at the end of some classes, kids try to hand back their hard earned dollars. 大ショック!!!
Well, I am going to head out to the inconvenience store to see if Yuki's been able to fend off that other guy who seems to be buying my grapefruit juice.
As much as I still believe kids are kids no matter where, today I really felt some of the differences. For example, when we were playing dreidle, I had about one chocolate coin per kid, and then about eight extras. I didn't know how to distribute them, and we told them to just divide them either by Rock-Paper-Scissors or breaking them into pieces. As much as they had been excited when they saw the coins and then oohed and aahed over the "smell of chocolate," half the kids started saying, "Oh, it's okay, we can just give the extras back to Mia." I told them I didn't want them, and they proceded to janken (r-p-s) for them. But I was really shocked. No fighting or crying. I mean, I was never a competitive kid, and I now understand that even chocolate has a limited appeal (not that limited, but it only goes so far) - but this is an elementary school, and the kids were just completely orderly about the whole situation. Also, while kids will try to grab Mia dollars out of my hands, my bags, each other's hands, they still haven't gotten the idea that when I give them as prizes, they get to keep them (until I think of something they can redeem them for!) - at the end of some classes, kids try to hand back their hard earned dollars. 大ショック!!!
Well, I am going to head out to the inconvenience store to see if Yuki's been able to fend off that other guy who seems to be buying my grapefruit juice.
Saturday, November 27, 2004
The Back of the Bus
Last weekend, I went on a trip with people from Town Hall. In Japan, I think you go on trips with your office twice a year, once in late fall or early winter, and once in in spring or summer. I think we also have a section trip (just for us in the Planning and Coordinating Division) in mid-winter. There were two groups for the general trip, and I picked the one that would happen while I was in Japan (obviously). Everyone else in Town Hall who I knew chose the second trip, but I figured it would be a good chance to spend time with new people. There were only twelve people on our trip (I think the second "half" has forty!). I was the only person under 30, and probably one of three under 40. Which isn't really a problem, but I think relationships are often defined by age here, so I was a bit nervous. As soon as the bus started moving at 8:00 am, the men started calling out, "Mia-chan! Come back here and sit with us!" Which I did, and they expected me to start drinking. I put it off as long as I could, and then grudgingly accepted a Chu-Hi, which is like alcohol soda and usually doesn't have much of an effect on me - but even though I drank it slowly, after I finished it, my whole body began to ache. Oh, it was painful. For the rest of the trip, I kept the same empty can in front of me so I wouldn't have to drink any more.
I liked being with the rowdy guys in the back of the bus, but a few of them did the job for everyone, and I think I have filled my quota for cigarette smoke for the next ten years of my life. Another drawback was that some of the guys (well, just one really, the same as the top smoker) were a little too flirty with our poor young tour guide. She was good humored about the "KEI-CHAN! Come back here!" every few minutes. Sometimes it was "It's too hot/too cold," "Can you bring us some tea?" and stuff that was nominally part of her job, though it wouldn't have killed them to be a bit more polite about it, but other times, it was, "Sit next to me honey, and have a drink," which she couldn't do, of course. Like I said, she giggled a lot and didn't seem offended, but it sort of reminded me of my short time as a waitress/bartender on Cape Cod. Same age as when I did that too. Anyway, the old guys seemed to have a good time, and she seemed happy enough to flirt with them.
I went through the whole trip pretty much not knowing anyone's name. I had seen them all, and I am sure I had heard the names of everyone at least once, but that's not always enough. One of the younger guys sort of took me under his wing, and had even brought along a trendy English phrase book, probably less to communicate with me and more as a conversation piece. The guys had a great time learning, "It's now or never," "Love at first sight," and "Are you trying to pick me up?" One guy was actually pretty good, which he said was due to having some distant relative who was an English teacher. Can't say that I understand the reasoning behind that. The guy who brought the book was someone I saw all the time at the pool, but I couldn't remember his name, and I had no idea what section he was in. I heard other people calling him Kanji-san, so I figured it could be a nickname or something. When the group was splitting up in Kobe City, I took the tour group leader's number, and Kanji said we should exchange numbers too. As I entered his name, I asked if I was using the right characters. He said, "Oh, it's those characters, but... Just use Takahashi." I felt really embarassed. I'd been calling him by his nickname when I should have been using his last name, since he was my superior. The next day, at work, he stopped at my desk to give me some pictures. After he left, I asked my coworker Yoko something about him, and she couldn't figure out who I was talking about. "Kanji-san, kanji-san, you know, he was just at my desk - Takahashi!" She burst out laughing. Kanji apparently means "Person in charge of planning the trip." Uh, oops!
Not nearly as bad as the unfortunate and accidental way I described a tomato, but that's a story for in person, and not appropriate for general audiences! So ask me about it.
In other news, Ben comes back to Japan this morning, and I am off to America in a few weeks.
I liked being with the rowdy guys in the back of the bus, but a few of them did the job for everyone, and I think I have filled my quota for cigarette smoke for the next ten years of my life. Another drawback was that some of the guys (well, just one really, the same as the top smoker) were a little too flirty with our poor young tour guide. She was good humored about the "KEI-CHAN! Come back here!" every few minutes. Sometimes it was "It's too hot/too cold," "Can you bring us some tea?" and stuff that was nominally part of her job, though it wouldn't have killed them to be a bit more polite about it, but other times, it was, "Sit next to me honey, and have a drink," which she couldn't do, of course. Like I said, she giggled a lot and didn't seem offended, but it sort of reminded me of my short time as a waitress/bartender on Cape Cod. Same age as when I did that too. Anyway, the old guys seemed to have a good time, and she seemed happy enough to flirt with them.
I went through the whole trip pretty much not knowing anyone's name. I had seen them all, and I am sure I had heard the names of everyone at least once, but that's not always enough. One of the younger guys sort of took me under his wing, and had even brought along a trendy English phrase book, probably less to communicate with me and more as a conversation piece. The guys had a great time learning, "It's now or never," "Love at first sight," and "Are you trying to pick me up?" One guy was actually pretty good, which he said was due to having some distant relative who was an English teacher. Can't say that I understand the reasoning behind that. The guy who brought the book was someone I saw all the time at the pool, but I couldn't remember his name, and I had no idea what section he was in. I heard other people calling him Kanji-san, so I figured it could be a nickname or something. When the group was splitting up in Kobe City, I took the tour group leader's number, and Kanji said we should exchange numbers too. As I entered his name, I asked if I was using the right characters. He said, "Oh, it's those characters, but... Just use Takahashi." I felt really embarassed. I'd been calling him by his nickname when I should have been using his last name, since he was my superior. The next day, at work, he stopped at my desk to give me some pictures. After he left, I asked my coworker Yoko something about him, and she couldn't figure out who I was talking about. "Kanji-san, kanji-san, you know, he was just at my desk - Takahashi!" She burst out laughing. Kanji apparently means "Person in charge of planning the trip." Uh, oops!
Not nearly as bad as the unfortunate and accidental way I described a tomato, but that's a story for in person, and not appropriate for general audiences! So ask me about it.
In other news, Ben comes back to Japan this morning, and I am off to America in a few weeks.
Thursday, November 18, 2004
I've got a round-trip ticket to Gaikoku
I have a ton of work to do, but I wanted to post this before I forgot. Today, a first-grader asked me:
I'm not sure I'll ever be able to stop laughing. I think the answer would have to be Foreignland (Gaikoku)!
(The PC term for a non-Japanese person in Japan is Gaikokujin, or other-country-person, and foreign language is gaikoku-go for other-country-language, so it's a term that comes up around me quite a lot. He must have thought I had dual citizenship!)
Which is farther, America or Foreignland?
I'm not sure I'll ever be able to stop laughing. I think the answer would have to be Foreignland (Gaikoku)!
(The PC term for a non-Japanese person in Japan is Gaikokujin, or other-country-person, and foreign language is gaikoku-go for other-country-language, so it's a term that comes up around me quite a lot. He must have thought I had dual citizenship!)
Saturday, November 13, 2004
Hearty Goldfish
Last night there was a gaijin gathering at Matt's apartment in neighboring Toei, and I was driving Hamish and Ed, Schwa's brother who is WWOOFing in Japan. Hamish was bringing games and movies, as well as some goldfish he had won at a school festival that day but couldn't take care of.
Hamish put his stuff down in the back seat before he got in himself. As he ducked into the car though, he yelled. The goldfish water was spilling onto my backseat. He handed the bag to Ed, already settled into the shotgun seat, for safe keeping. As everything calmed down, and we started to drive, Hamish asked Ed if there were only two goldfish in the bag. There were, and Hamish frantically searched around for the third, which he found on the seat. It wasn't moving, but they plunked it into the bag.
All three goldfish were seen eating happily in Matt's tank last night.
Hamish put his stuff down in the back seat before he got in himself. As he ducked into the car though, he yelled. The goldfish water was spilling onto my backseat. He handed the bag to Ed, already settled into the shotgun seat, for safe keeping. As everything calmed down, and we started to drive, Hamish asked Ed if there were only two goldfish in the bag. There were, and Hamish frantically searched around for the third, which he found on the seat. It wasn't moving, but they plunked it into the bag.
All three goldfish were seen eating happily in Matt's tank last night.
Monday, November 08, 2004
Yuki the Samurai
This is a picture of my friend from town, Yuki, doing a samurai dance at the town's Cultural Festival (Bunkasai).
Creative Kids
For Halloween, one of the exercises I did was making a class monster on the board. I would tell them the body part I wanted them to draw in English, and they would draw it. After it was complete, I'd have them name it and give some information. I tried to get them to use english vocab. I don't know if they'll remember any of it.
This monster is named Ben Rabbit. He lives in Italy. He eats cockroaches. He doesn't like carrots or steak. He weighs one ton. He is smelly but not scary.
The white writing to the right says, "Important picture, do not erase." I think one of the kids added that message during the lunch break.
This monster is named Ben Rabbit. He lives in Italy. He eats cockroaches. He doesn't like carrots or steak. He weighs one ton. He is smelly but not scary.
The white writing to the right says, "Important picture, do not erase." I think one of the kids added that message during the lunch break.
No, I'm the Tooth Fairy!
Despite the evil glare in my eye in this picture, I'm a good witch. This is a Halloween costume that I thought would make my parents proud. I'm not sure if you can see it, but I also have a toothbrush wand.
I got to explain about the tooth fairy. I think there was one kid who'd heard of the custom, but no adults had.
When children lose their teeth here, if it's a lower tooth, they're supposed to throw it over the roof of their house for good luck, and if it's a upper tooth, they throw it under (?) the floor. They also say a special prayer.
I got to explain about the tooth fairy. I think there was one kid who'd heard of the custom, but no adults had.
When children lose their teeth here, if it's a lower tooth, they're supposed to throw it over the roof of their house for good luck, and if it's a upper tooth, they throw it under (?) the floor. They also say a special prayer.
Chouchou
This is our Mayor, on a rainy day, wearing the hat I gave him. (NYPD)
Pretty cool, I think.
You can also see the corner of my desk in the foreground.
Pretty cool, I think.
You can also see the corner of my desk in the foreground.
Aichi Gaijin United
The victorious team at Awaji-shima. Yep, we won the plate. But it wasn't very plate-y.
Aichi Gaijin, Rah Rah Fuck! (The end of the cheer I borrowed from my frat. Even if we couldn't win in the first tier tournament, we sure had the best down-and-dirty cheering squad!)
Aichi Gaijin, Rah Rah Fuck! (The end of the cheer I borrowed from my frat. Even if we couldn't win in the first tier tournament, we sure had the best down-and-dirty cheering squad!)
Hamish and Mr. Nanahara
The Damine folks met Hamish at the field day, many for the first time. A lot of people assumed he was my boyfriend.
This is the dad of my former host family, showing off his toe socks with Hamish.
This is the dad of my former host family, showing off his toe socks with Hamish.
Having fun at Damine
After the crazy relay obstacle course at the field day at Damine the other day.
Thursday, November 04, 2004
Some things do turn out well
Ballroom dance was good, it was just me and one other guy and the weird teacher and his partner. He didn't make me feel like too much of a dance failure! Woohoo!
Let's talk about something positive!
So, a special present for anyone who can send me some good news from America.
It's Thursday. That means I have ballroom dance tonight. I'm not really looking forwards to this lesson.
Yuki originally asked me to come along with her because she was a beginner and there were no other young people in the class. Considering the utter dearth of goings on in town on Thursday nights, I figured it wouldn't hurt to check it out.
On the whole it's been great. It gives me a reason to hang out with Yuki and an opportunity to dance (although it's ballroom, so not really my specialty). The regular teacher, Mrs. Kumagai, is very sweet. She gets really uncomfortable when I call her sensei, because I guess she hasn't passed the sensei level of the ballroom dancing exams. (Not joking. It is, in my opinion, the most ridiculous thing to have exams in dancing, and I don't know if it's just Japan, or everywhere.) She just focuses on routines, and we pretty much waltz around the room for the hour and a half class. I really like her classes.
Tonight, we have the real sensei. In my opinion he's a real ballroom snob, too. Last week, he spent the first hour lecturing us. I don't think it was because of my level of Japanese that I found it boring and hard to understand. Yuki and I agree - we go there to dance, not for lectures. I don't think anyone in the class is planning to go on to become world class dancers. The real sensei is also the kind of guy who, two steps into a dance will just stop and bight his lip, as if thinking how to explain proper form to such a simpleton. At first I thought he was flustered with me because I wasn't a native Japanese speaker, but he does it to all of the students, except for one lady who has been doing this type of dance for several years. Yuki said the other day when I was dancing with him, she could see him scrutinizing my posture to find something to criticize. He's really annoying, but I generally amuse myself by acting childish and making puzzled faces at Yuki.
Unfortunately, Yuki's in Thailand with her family and the other beginner (Mayuki or Mayumi?) is with the delegation that went to Samoa for the week.
Aaaaaaaaah!!!!
Well, at least with just me there, he probably won't bother wasting his breath with a lecture. Or will he????
It's Thursday. That means I have ballroom dance tonight. I'm not really looking forwards to this lesson.
Yuki originally asked me to come along with her because she was a beginner and there were no other young people in the class. Considering the utter dearth of goings on in town on Thursday nights, I figured it wouldn't hurt to check it out.
On the whole it's been great. It gives me a reason to hang out with Yuki and an opportunity to dance (although it's ballroom, so not really my specialty). The regular teacher, Mrs. Kumagai, is very sweet. She gets really uncomfortable when I call her sensei, because I guess she hasn't passed the sensei level of the ballroom dancing exams. (Not joking. It is, in my opinion, the most ridiculous thing to have exams in dancing, and I don't know if it's just Japan, or everywhere.) She just focuses on routines, and we pretty much waltz around the room for the hour and a half class. I really like her classes.
Tonight, we have the real sensei. In my opinion he's a real ballroom snob, too. Last week, he spent the first hour lecturing us. I don't think it was because of my level of Japanese that I found it boring and hard to understand. Yuki and I agree - we go there to dance, not for lectures. I don't think anyone in the class is planning to go on to become world class dancers. The real sensei is also the kind of guy who, two steps into a dance will just stop and bight his lip, as if thinking how to explain proper form to such a simpleton. At first I thought he was flustered with me because I wasn't a native Japanese speaker, but he does it to all of the students, except for one lady who has been doing this type of dance for several years. Yuki said the other day when I was dancing with him, she could see him scrutinizing my posture to find something to criticize. He's really annoying, but I generally amuse myself by acting childish and making puzzled faces at Yuki.
Unfortunately, Yuki's in Thailand with her family and the other beginner (Mayuki or Mayumi?) is with the delegation that went to Samoa for the week.
Aaaaaaaaah!!!!
Well, at least with just me there, he probably won't bother wasting his breath with a lecture. Or will he????
Wednesday, November 03, 2004
Bunka no Hi
Today, having mostly slept off my cold, and with results of the election not yet in, Hamish and I set off for the Bee Summit. A lot of JETs went last year, and they talked it up so much, I have to admit I was surprised (disappointed) in its small scale. But we did get Hebo-goheimochi (mochi on a stick with a sauce made from bees), and then we watched them smoke bees out of their hives and then weigh the hives. I think they then sold the honeycomb at high prices. My friend (acquaintance, I guess) Rei was manning the goheimochi, and she was also selling her pottery. I didn't buy any, but I plan to when I go to her house next time.
We headed out to Damine (in the mountains of Shitara, and also home to one of my favorite elementary schools) because I'd heard there would be a festival there. There was nothing doing at the temple, so we got fortunes. I couldn't read much of them. Apparently the person I am waiting for is on his or her way, but they are going to be a little late. I think I'll find the thing I lost. That's good news, I guess.
At Damine Elementary, we could see a crowd. They were having a community field day. They offered us food and beer, while we watched. It turned out to be great fun! Like a regular Japanese field day, the kids were grouped into Shirogumi and Akagumi (White and Red), but since the school is so small (only 19 kids), everyone was participating. The first event we watched was a relay. The kids would run halfway around the track, then pick a piece of paper out of a hat and do what was written on the hat. One girl had to do Janken (Rock-Paper-Scissors) with someone, and then both people had to run the rest of the track. She ran over to me, and I lost as rock to her paper. As I ran around the track, my left sandal broke and fell off. Everyone was impressed that I continued to run with one shoe I went back to my seat, and then another student got me to skip around the track with her. After that, Hamish and I participated in tug of war (one win, one lose), competitive Janken, and finally, an obstacle course relay which I did barefoot and came out of really dirty. One of the obstacles involved shooting over a box of matches with a water gun. There was something wrong with my team's pistol, and it wouldn't shoot with enough force. The guy after me was a police officer, and after everyone started jeering at him, he just started shooting all the kids. They also had water guns, and it was a full shoot out. The opposing team had a lead on us towards the end, but the guys holding the finish line started running away. As the old man running towards the finish got tired and started to give up, our guy sprinted passed him and won. Ha!
After every event, participants could pick out a prize. Among the prizes, it wasn't only candy and plastic trinkets, but useful stuff like socks, garbage bags, and sponges. Wow! Bizarre, but really practical!
After that, we headed to the Nanaharas', my former host family and watched kendo and the election on t.v. A lovely day. (Besides the election.)
We headed out to Damine (in the mountains of Shitara, and also home to one of my favorite elementary schools) because I'd heard there would be a festival there. There was nothing doing at the temple, so we got fortunes. I couldn't read much of them. Apparently the person I am waiting for is on his or her way, but they are going to be a little late. I think I'll find the thing I lost. That's good news, I guess.
At Damine Elementary, we could see a crowd. They were having a community field day. They offered us food and beer, while we watched. It turned out to be great fun! Like a regular Japanese field day, the kids were grouped into Shirogumi and Akagumi (White and Red), but since the school is so small (only 19 kids), everyone was participating. The first event we watched was a relay. The kids would run halfway around the track, then pick a piece of paper out of a hat and do what was written on the hat. One girl had to do Janken (Rock-Paper-Scissors) with someone, and then both people had to run the rest of the track. She ran over to me, and I lost as rock to her paper. As I ran around the track, my left sandal broke and fell off. Everyone was impressed that I continued to run with one shoe I went back to my seat, and then another student got me to skip around the track with her. After that, Hamish and I participated in tug of war (one win, one lose), competitive Janken, and finally, an obstacle course relay which I did barefoot and came out of really dirty. One of the obstacles involved shooting over a box of matches with a water gun. There was something wrong with my team's pistol, and it wouldn't shoot with enough force. The guy after me was a police officer, and after everyone started jeering at him, he just started shooting all the kids. They also had water guns, and it was a full shoot out. The opposing team had a lead on us towards the end, but the guys holding the finish line started running away. As the old man running towards the finish got tired and started to give up, our guy sprinted passed him and won. Ha!
After every event, participants could pick out a prize. Among the prizes, it wasn't only candy and plastic trinkets, but useful stuff like socks, garbage bags, and sponges. Wow! Bizarre, but really practical!
After that, we headed to the Nanaharas', my former host family and watched kendo and the election on t.v. A lovely day. (Besides the election.)
Sunday, October 31, 2004
Japanese Army
Driving through Shinshiro, I saw a TON of Japanese soldiers. Since the Japanese army is somewhat of an enigma to me, I grabbed my camera. One soldier held up a peace sign. It's not a great picture, but it was just weird enough for me.
My brilliant kids
We learned parts of the face a few weeks ago. They didn't forget - we played a monster body parts game for Halloween, and they were brilliant, every last student. This group is first and second graders (they are combined in the smaller schools).
Note the nose-picking peace sign pose.
Note the nose-picking peace sign pose.
The Road to Nagura
Sometimes I feel overwhelming thanks for the opportunity to live in such a beautiful place. It's so amazing that this is my home.
Since I haven't really talked about it, here's a list of times when I'm not thankful:
When I come across a clear-cut slope.
When I hear about all the adventures my city friends have.
When I'm sick to death of the few restaurants we have here.
When I just wish a restaurant would stay open past 7.
When someone announces what I bought at which store a few months ago, and I realize that I'm being scrutinized by everyone, but most of the townspeople have more tact.
But really, most of the time, I think I have it really good. I'm already sad knowing that my time in Shitara is limited. It's the kind of place where, even if I get lost, I am happy to just wander lost. I love my job. I love the kids, even if I still don't know most of their names. I love the translations I get to do for the delegation to Samoa. I love that I get to write the English version of speeches to be presented there to the Prime Minister. I love that I can run into my drunken amazing coworkers and encorporate them into my gaijin party. I love that I get a WHOLE page every month in which I can write whatever I want, and people are actually interested in reading it. I love setting up and taking down town events. I love that I'm going to help do PR for the rural areas of my prefecture by selling tomatoes and river fish in Nagoya next weekend.
That's all for tonight. More pictures next month (that's tomorrow!) and more stories of what's up soon. Happy Halloween and Daylight Savings weekend everyone. My clock didn't change, so now I am 14 hours different from the east coast.
Since I haven't really talked about it, here's a list of times when I'm not thankful:
When I come across a clear-cut slope.
When I hear about all the adventures my city friends have.
When I'm sick to death of the few restaurants we have here.
When I just wish a restaurant would stay open past 7.
When someone announces what I bought at which store a few months ago, and I realize that I'm being scrutinized by everyone, but most of the townspeople have more tact.
But really, most of the time, I think I have it really good. I'm already sad knowing that my time in Shitara is limited. It's the kind of place where, even if I get lost, I am happy to just wander lost. I love my job. I love the kids, even if I still don't know most of their names. I love the translations I get to do for the delegation to Samoa. I love that I get to write the English version of speeches to be presented there to the Prime Minister. I love that I can run into my drunken amazing coworkers and encorporate them into my gaijin party. I love that I get a WHOLE page every month in which I can write whatever I want, and people are actually interested in reading it. I love setting up and taking down town events. I love that I'm going to help do PR for the rural areas of my prefecture by selling tomatoes and river fish in Nagoya next weekend.
That's all for tonight. More pictures next month (that's tomorrow!) and more stories of what's up soon. Happy Halloween and Daylight Savings weekend everyone. My clock didn't change, so now I am 14 hours different from the east coast.
Sukkah
This is the sukkah I made. I know it might not look like much, but it sure took a lot of hard work!
Tuesday, October 26, 2004
Sounds of the City
I have discovered a pleasure greater than sitting in the tub and reading the New Yorker or Believer magazines.
A combination of rediscovering internet radio and inheriting speakers has revealed unthinkable ecstacies:
I can now take my evening bath while listening to WFUV City Folk Morning.
Better than listening to it come in staticky for two minutes while throwing on my work clothes and heading out the door.
Previously, the best place to listen to FUV was in my car, so I'm pretty sure the timing had something to do with my bad luck with Simone (my car in Japan) this morning.
A combination of rediscovering internet radio and inheriting speakers has revealed unthinkable ecstacies:
I can now take my evening bath while listening to WFUV City Folk Morning.
Better than listening to it come in staticky for two minutes while throwing on my work clothes and heading out the door.
Previously, the best place to listen to FUV was in my car, so I'm pretty sure the timing had something to do with my bad luck with Simone (my car in Japan) this morning.
Not even Calvin Trillin can save me now...
I'm not sure where I went wrong but parking karma just came a bit me in the axel. I was running a little late, I'd left my bike at work, and it was raining, so I decided to drive to work.
How is it possible that I live in the boonies, and not only was my parking lot full, but there was NO STREET PARKING???!!!! This is beyond me. I parked in a store employees only parking lot and ended up having to go back out and move my car after walking into work late. Bad start to a day.
On the upside, on the desk next to mine, there is a bag that made me smile.
PERIOD
The rain stopped and a beautiful rainbow appeared the distant hills. Struck by the beauty of the scene, I kept standing there for a while. This super blandscope will remain in my memory all my life.
Well, at least once this rain stops, I'll get to enjoy a super blandscope.
May the parking force be with you all - it certainly isn't with me!
How is it possible that I live in the boonies, and not only was my parking lot full, but there was NO STREET PARKING???!!!! This is beyond me. I parked in a store employees only parking lot and ended up having to go back out and move my car after walking into work late. Bad start to a day.
On the upside, on the desk next to mine, there is a bag that made me smile.
PERIOD
The rain stopped and a beautiful rainbow appeared the distant hills. Struck by the beauty of the scene, I kept standing there for a while. This super blandscope will remain in my memory all my life.
Well, at least once this rain stops, I'll get to enjoy a super blandscope.
May the parking force be with you all - it certainly isn't with me!
Friday, October 22, 2004
Ben and Killer Bees
Yum! Killer bees fried on a grill with salt and pepper! A few of these and your head will start swimming...
The annual Bee Festival will be held on Wednesday November 3. Be there or be sqare.
The annual Bee Festival will be held on Wednesday November 3. Be there or be sqare.
Firetruck! Firetruck! Firetruck!... Brrrrrring!
This is the firetruck Ben and I hitched a ride in back in September.
Aichi JETs go to Horaiji
Finally getting some pictures up... This is when a big group of us hiked to Horaiji. Later that night we had a fun party at Matt's. The blackout was a big highlight.
Thursday, October 21, 2004
Morning after Brazilian Party
Around 6 a.m., on a Japanese beach somewhere near the city of Tahara. It was one of the most beautiful mornings of my life. As the loud techno music faded, we found this small samba circle going. I samba-ed through sunrise and beyond.
Nanahara gals and Mia
The elderly Mrs. Nanahara bought this yukata for me. We were deciding between this one and an elegand blue iris pattern. She smiled and said, you're young, and pink really suits you. So pink it was! This was on our way to the Obon Festival in August. The girl on the right is Mai, who is the Nanahara's youngest child. She's also one of my students at the middle school.
Who's the Big Cheese Around Here?
Honcho, as in, the Head Honcho, comes from Japanese.
It means leader. Who woulda thunk it?
According to my supervisor, "koban" has also been assimilated into the English language. Has anyone ever heard this word used in America?
Sorry for the two Japanese vocabulary lessons in a row. I'll post some pictures soon!
It means leader. Who woulda thunk it?
According to my supervisor, "koban" has also been assimilated into the English language. Has anyone ever heard this word used in America?
Sorry for the two Japanese vocabulary lessons in a row. I'll post some pictures soon!
Wednesday, October 20, 2004
Window on Society - 社会の窓
Possibly one of the best phrases in Japanese has got to be "Shakai no Mado." Literally, it means window of society. What it actually refers to is a person's fly.
Just thought I'd share.
Just thought I'd share.
The Stick Man (as promised)
I remember the first time I saw him. I was standing with my bike in the driveway of the warehouse where Ben lived, and we were talking as he latched the gate after me. I heard a weird rhythmic stomping. I turned around and gaped at the approaching Stick Man, then shuffled closer to the gate. The Stick Man's head and neck were wrapped in white cloth. He wore a long sleeved shirt, shorts, and heavy looking boots. In his right hand, he held a long stick. As I looked, panic stricken, at Ben, Ben said, "He's nothing to worry about. He's out jogging every day. You know, every small town has a local crazy."
Now, I have had a fair share of exposure to local crazies. But they're different. They are city crazies. You expect them, you understand them as part of the scenery, and you generally don't spend too much time in dark, deserted places where your chances of a more dangerous encounter might happen. Well, Shitara after 7 PM is as dark and deserted as Times Square is bright and busy after 7 PM. And with the cicadas' and crickets' chorus as the background music, the "THUD, THUD, THUD" is pretty terrifying.
Coming out of my ballroom dance class the other day, one of my classmates warned me that I would run into him. "It's 9:30. He's like clockwork." When we peered down the street, there was no sign of him, and we stood and talked a while. "Ah! There he is!" she pointed, not too subtly. Of course, with the white cloth wrapped around his head, he probably didn't notice. He was jogging, as he always did, from the center of town out in the direction of my apartment, which is always where I ended up losing track of him. "You know, he's really harmless," she reassured me. Then she added, "He still kinda gives me the creeps."
Yeah, me too. I kicked my headlight on, and rode quickly past him, into the safe and silent shadows of my danchi.
Now, I have had a fair share of exposure to local crazies. But they're different. They are city crazies. You expect them, you understand them as part of the scenery, and you generally don't spend too much time in dark, deserted places where your chances of a more dangerous encounter might happen. Well, Shitara after 7 PM is as dark and deserted as Times Square is bright and busy after 7 PM. And with the cicadas' and crickets' chorus as the background music, the "THUD, THUD, THUD" is pretty terrifying.
Coming out of my ballroom dance class the other day, one of my classmates warned me that I would run into him. "It's 9:30. He's like clockwork." When we peered down the street, there was no sign of him, and we stood and talked a while. "Ah! There he is!" she pointed, not too subtly. Of course, with the white cloth wrapped around his head, he probably didn't notice. He was jogging, as he always did, from the center of town out in the direction of my apartment, which is always where I ended up losing track of him. "You know, he's really harmless," she reassured me. Then she added, "He still kinda gives me the creeps."
Yeah, me too. I kicked my headlight on, and rode quickly past him, into the safe and silent shadows of my danchi.
Thursday, October 14, 2004
Eating the sun
There was a partial eclipse today. Luckily, I was at an elementary school this morning, where they actually get excited over these things. All the kids had different gadgets to look at the sun. The best one belonged to a guy who might have been the grounds keeper. Solar eclipse is written with the characters for sun and eating.
Must go to bed. One sentence, more often, is better than nothing at all. I'll try to post more frequently. In future episodes, look forward to the Stick Man, Ballroom Dancing, and Soccer... Stay tuned!
Must go to bed. One sentence, more often, is better than nothing at all. I'll try to post more frequently. In future episodes, look forward to the Stick Man, Ballroom Dancing, and Soccer... Stay tuned!
Friday, October 01, 2004
Sukkot
So, besides some apples (without honey, despite having bought some for that purpose...) and a rather strange version of tashlich where we threw "Melon Pan" (a type of sweet bread that is popular all over Japan) from under a bridge into the Kamogawa in Kyoto, I mostly did not observe the holidays this year.
I did, however, write my column this month about the celebration of Sukkot. That got me excited about building a sukkah, although the only place I could do it was my own balcony, half of which is taken up by trash I don't know how to throw out (including that awful peeling couch). Furthermore, my balcony doesn't meet the requirement of not having shelter already above it. Despite being in the middle of nowhere, everyone insisted there was nowhere to build the sukkah.
So, balcony it was.
Typhoons pumelled the area, so I was a few days late, but I eventually bought a large sheet of bamboo held together by twine, and hung that up by my laundry polls. I hung persimmons and "goyas" (lumpy vegetables - not sure of the english name, but it's apparently very bitter) - they were cheap because they are in season. I then collected branches in the woods and attached them all to the bamboo. The fruits and vegetables were the hardest. I used a needle and thread - I only got six up, but it took forever. The branches are a bit sparse, but I was told not to pick them off the trees. I did anyway, but I didn't want to look too conspicuous (left the chainsaw at home), so I didn't get very much. A lot of the leaves are above my reach, and I saw a venemous snake (albeit a dead venemous snake) on the road in front of my apartment the other day, so I was not to keen on romping through the brush.
I took some pictures with a disposable camera, and if they turn out, I'll post them. All my digital things are going a bit haywire, so no promises for pictures! It doesn't look like much, but I put a lot into it, and I am proud of it!
I did, however, write my column this month about the celebration of Sukkot. That got me excited about building a sukkah, although the only place I could do it was my own balcony, half of which is taken up by trash I don't know how to throw out (including that awful peeling couch). Furthermore, my balcony doesn't meet the requirement of not having shelter already above it. Despite being in the middle of nowhere, everyone insisted there was nowhere to build the sukkah.
So, balcony it was.
Typhoons pumelled the area, so I was a few days late, but I eventually bought a large sheet of bamboo held together by twine, and hung that up by my laundry polls. I hung persimmons and "goyas" (lumpy vegetables - not sure of the english name, but it's apparently very bitter) - they were cheap because they are in season. I then collected branches in the woods and attached them all to the bamboo. The fruits and vegetables were the hardest. I used a needle and thread - I only got six up, but it took forever. The branches are a bit sparse, but I was told not to pick them off the trees. I did anyway, but I didn't want to look too conspicuous (left the chainsaw at home), so I didn't get very much. A lot of the leaves are above my reach, and I saw a venemous snake (albeit a dead venemous snake) on the road in front of my apartment the other day, so I was not to keen on romping through the brush.
I took some pictures with a disposable camera, and if they turn out, I'll post them. All my digital things are going a bit haywire, so no promises for pictures! It doesn't look like much, but I put a lot into it, and I am proud of it!
Thursday, September 30, 2004
Alert!
(First, an apology for disappearing from the blog lately - have been out of the danchi on various excursions, and my internet's been down. I promise to be better now.)
Today, about five minutes ago (4:45 in the afternoon) my section looked up when it heard the crackle of the PA system. No one was speaking, so we instinctively looked over to the microphone (visible from our desks). Miho, the voice of our Shitara Reports (Koho Shitara) was standing next to another town hall worker as he fiddled with the buttons.
Earlier this month, I was woken by a rather strong earthquake (no damage, but felt oddly nostalgic as the inside of my apartment transformed into the inside of a New York subway car). It was the strongest of a series of countless quakes that week, and put everyone a little on edge, as we are expecting a large earthquke in this general region (and here I've watered down the scale of the expected shaking so that my mom will still be able to sleep...) And on top of that, the typhoon season is far from over, with Typhoon 26 dumping on us for the past couple days. Today we finally had what seemed to be a perfectly clear day.
As the static went on, I was sure they were going to warn of a nearby erupting volcano, or some dangerous pollution in Shitara's prized water. When the announcement began, however, I couldn't help giggling. Apparently, taking advantage of the nice weather, a crafty con-artist had been posing as a door to door salesperson right here in the town. I wasn't sure what sort of thing the person was doing (I think getting people to enter into phony contracts and taking their money), but it seemed somehow comical that they made an announcement over the town loudspeakers to beware of this person, rather than stealthily arresting him or her and recovering the money. But then, I don't know anything about running a small town. The elderly, a major demographic in rural Japan, are extremely trusting, so it's a protective measure for them.
Well, I can make no promises for my personal safety in case of a natural disaster, but if there is anything I am probably immune to, it will be phony Japanese door-to-door salespeople. And the weird Hokkaido Milk Truck that comes around to the Danchi every few days.
Today, about five minutes ago (4:45 in the afternoon) my section looked up when it heard the crackle of the PA system. No one was speaking, so we instinctively looked over to the microphone (visible from our desks). Miho, the voice of our Shitara Reports (Koho Shitara) was standing next to another town hall worker as he fiddled with the buttons.
Earlier this month, I was woken by a rather strong earthquake (no damage, but felt oddly nostalgic as the inside of my apartment transformed into the inside of a New York subway car). It was the strongest of a series of countless quakes that week, and put everyone a little on edge, as we are expecting a large earthquke in this general region (and here I've watered down the scale of the expected shaking so that my mom will still be able to sleep...) And on top of that, the typhoon season is far from over, with Typhoon 26 dumping on us for the past couple days. Today we finally had what seemed to be a perfectly clear day.
As the static went on, I was sure they were going to warn of a nearby erupting volcano, or some dangerous pollution in Shitara's prized water. When the announcement began, however, I couldn't help giggling. Apparently, taking advantage of the nice weather, a crafty con-artist had been posing as a door to door salesperson right here in the town. I wasn't sure what sort of thing the person was doing (I think getting people to enter into phony contracts and taking their money), but it seemed somehow comical that they made an announcement over the town loudspeakers to beware of this person, rather than stealthily arresting him or her and recovering the money. But then, I don't know anything about running a small town. The elderly, a major demographic in rural Japan, are extremely trusting, so it's a protective measure for them.
Well, I can make no promises for my personal safety in case of a natural disaster, but if there is anything I am probably immune to, it will be phony Japanese door-to-door salespeople. And the weird Hokkaido Milk Truck that comes around to the Danchi every few days.
Sunday, September 05, 2004
Hiking, a Ride in a Fire Truck, and Killer Bees
I'm going to try not to be disappointed that I can't post all my adventures... Some exciting moments have been an all-night Brazilian beach party, a trip to an onsen, a trip to Nagoya, somehow Lost in Translation-esque overpriced drinks at the top of the Hilton... If I have a chance, I'll add those too.
For now, though, I'll stick to talking about this weekend. Yesterday, a bunch of city JETs came to our area for hiking and a party. Ten of us trecked through the woods ("This is nothing compared to Fuji," a couple of them kept reminding us - they'd climbed Fuji a couple weeks ago, and did not recommend it), and finally we got to a temple where some other hikers tried to recruit me for their sect of Buddhism. I was very suspicious.
We got back to Matt's house for a barbecue, and it started to pour. A few bolts of lightening, and the power was out. It was great fun to use candles and flashlights, but with ten people in a two room apartment, it got pretty hot pretty quickly. Hamish drove me home early because I had a softball game at 8:30 in the morning - he was a great sport about being the designated driver, but I know my turn will come as soon as I have a car.
This morning, I showed up at what I thought was the appointed spot, but it was deserted. Since no one had bothered to tell me the time of the game (last night, Ben said, you know our game is at 8:30, right? No? Oh, maybe I was supposed to tell you...), I called Ben. He also didn't know what was going on. We walked to the baseball field. Other than a weird security van with a picture of the WTC on the side, it was totally deserted. I suggested we try the hiking trail I had noticed behind a temple by Town Hall.
We had a beautiful walk, but it was mostly downhill. We decided we would probably have to hitchhike back in order to make it to the barbecue I was expected at (but, of course, didn't know about). We kept going a way, until we came to the first school house in Shitara, which was built in the 17th century. It continues to be a working temple. I was just wondering whether it was still used, when an old monk poked his head out and poured out a bowl of I-don't-know-what. "Good morning!" I called out. He stared at me for a few seconds then shut the sliding door.
We decided to turn around and head to the main road to catch a car headed back to Taguchi. We passed a run-down country store and I decided to buy a soda from the vending machine (they don't sell water around here - ginger-ale and a mysterious liquid that passes for juice were my only non-caffeinated choices). We sat down on the bench outside the store for a rest. Nearby, the volunteer fire department had been having practice. The session seemed to be over and people were leaving. A fire truck passed, and Ben called out. It backed up. It turned out to be Mr. Nanahara, related to the Mr. Nanahara who had first hosted me here. I suggested we get a ride with him. We got to ride in a Japanese fire truck! Apparently, smoking is permitted in the fire truck. We were introduced to his daughters, who had the mumps - what a bizarre disease.
Finally, we got to the barbecue. It was still only 11 am, but they kept insisting I have a drink. I resisted for most of the event. We ate lots and lots of bees. The most delicious were the killer bees. They fried them in oil. Apparently, the venom is broken down when they are cooked, so they are alright to eat. We think. One of the guys told Ben and me that if you ate too many, you'd get too sexually aroused, and your nose would start to bleed. Um, I guess I was able to temper myself well enough, and my nose didn't bleed (despite the fact that I've repeatedly injured it by walking into glass doors and swimming into dividers and...)
Well, cookies need to be taken out of the oven. Will post pictures soon.
For now, though, I'll stick to talking about this weekend. Yesterday, a bunch of city JETs came to our area for hiking and a party. Ten of us trecked through the woods ("This is nothing compared to Fuji," a couple of them kept reminding us - they'd climbed Fuji a couple weeks ago, and did not recommend it), and finally we got to a temple where some other hikers tried to recruit me for their sect of Buddhism. I was very suspicious.
We got back to Matt's house for a barbecue, and it started to pour. A few bolts of lightening, and the power was out. It was great fun to use candles and flashlights, but with ten people in a two room apartment, it got pretty hot pretty quickly. Hamish drove me home early because I had a softball game at 8:30 in the morning - he was a great sport about being the designated driver, but I know my turn will come as soon as I have a car.
This morning, I showed up at what I thought was the appointed spot, but it was deserted. Since no one had bothered to tell me the time of the game (last night, Ben said, you know our game is at 8:30, right? No? Oh, maybe I was supposed to tell you...), I called Ben. He also didn't know what was going on. We walked to the baseball field. Other than a weird security van with a picture of the WTC on the side, it was totally deserted. I suggested we try the hiking trail I had noticed behind a temple by Town Hall.
We had a beautiful walk, but it was mostly downhill. We decided we would probably have to hitchhike back in order to make it to the barbecue I was expected at (but, of course, didn't know about). We kept going a way, until we came to the first school house in Shitara, which was built in the 17th century. It continues to be a working temple. I was just wondering whether it was still used, when an old monk poked his head out and poured out a bowl of I-don't-know-what. "Good morning!" I called out. He stared at me for a few seconds then shut the sliding door.
We decided to turn around and head to the main road to catch a car headed back to Taguchi. We passed a run-down country store and I decided to buy a soda from the vending machine (they don't sell water around here - ginger-ale and a mysterious liquid that passes for juice were my only non-caffeinated choices). We sat down on the bench outside the store for a rest. Nearby, the volunteer fire department had been having practice. The session seemed to be over and people were leaving. A fire truck passed, and Ben called out. It backed up. It turned out to be Mr. Nanahara, related to the Mr. Nanahara who had first hosted me here. I suggested we get a ride with him. We got to ride in a Japanese fire truck! Apparently, smoking is permitted in the fire truck. We were introduced to his daughters, who had the mumps - what a bizarre disease.
Finally, we got to the barbecue. It was still only 11 am, but they kept insisting I have a drink. I resisted for most of the event. We ate lots and lots of bees. The most delicious were the killer bees. They fried them in oil. Apparently, the venom is broken down when they are cooked, so they are alright to eat. We think. One of the guys told Ben and me that if you ate too many, you'd get too sexually aroused, and your nose would start to bleed. Um, I guess I was able to temper myself well enough, and my nose didn't bleed (despite the fact that I've repeatedly injured it by walking into glass doors and swimming into dividers and...)
Well, cookies need to be taken out of the oven. Will post pictures soon.
Thursday, August 19, 2004
The Great Floods
My laundry machine kept flooding my bathroom, and when Ben took a look, he said that when my bathtub was replaced and the machine got moved around, the exhaust hose was put in the wrong hole, but that a piece had been removed so it would fit and I would need a new hose. I mentioned this to my supervisor (who had done the fixing) and he insisted on coming to my home to look. I told him it was okay, but I have a feeling that he and Mastui, who tagged along, were eager to get away from the office for a bit during the day. It was pretty funny to see them both trying to figure out how to fix my little washing machine, with one tilting it and the other, kakhis rolled above the ankles, sqatting below to see what was happening.
They told me to put in some laundry as a test run. I did that, and when they decided it was working, they said that it was time to go back to the office. Of course, this was mid-laundry cycle. I did my best to waylay them (I gave them tea and chocolate), but there was no way I could stay and wait until the end of the cycle. My clean clothes were doomed to wrinkles and mildew.
I asked Matsui if he had ever done laundry before, and he said he had, but informed me that really, you don't wash your own clothes, the machine does it for you. (Ba-dum ching.)
A note on Matsui: Matsui, to me, is hilarious. I told him that I didn't have much experience cooking but that I planned to make stir fry (and had to explain what that was) his response was, "Oh, wow, you really can't cook, can you!" He then proceded to guide me to some leeks, saying that they were better than scallions because they were the same thing but bigger. (I assumed he was right, until I ate it and recognized the flavor - it did not taste good in the stir fry.) He also thought I bought too much garlic, even though I explained that it doesn't really go bad and that I planned to use it pretty much every time I cooked. He's married, and I have heard from the usual (unreliable) sources that he's probably never done any housework in his life.
They told me to put in some laundry as a test run. I did that, and when they decided it was working, they said that it was time to go back to the office. Of course, this was mid-laundry cycle. I did my best to waylay them (I gave them tea and chocolate), but there was no way I could stay and wait until the end of the cycle. My clean clothes were doomed to wrinkles and mildew.
I asked Matsui if he had ever done laundry before, and he said he had, but informed me that really, you don't wash your own clothes, the machine does it for you. (Ba-dum ching.)
A note on Matsui: Matsui, to me, is hilarious. I told him that I didn't have much experience cooking but that I planned to make stir fry (and had to explain what that was) his response was, "Oh, wow, you really can't cook, can you!" He then proceded to guide me to some leeks, saying that they were better than scallions because they were the same thing but bigger. (I assumed he was right, until I ate it and recognized the flavor - it did not taste good in the stir fry.) He also thought I bought too much garlic, even though I explained that it doesn't really go bad and that I planned to use it pretty much every time I cooked. He's married, and I have heard from the usual (unreliable) sources that he's probably never done any housework in his life.
Tuesday, August 17, 2004
And now, for a little New York interlude...
I've been printing out the New York Times' "Metropolitan Diary" on a weekly basis in hopes of presenting some of the blurbs to my English Conversation group one day.
This is from the August 18th Metropolitan Diary:
I've often tried to explain this phenomenon to non-New Yorkers, and sometimes to Japanese people, who seem to only half believe me.
Ironically, though, it has relevance here. My predecessor, Ben, was Jewish, and in his monthly column in the town newsletter, he often introduced Jewish holidays and customs. Many people in the town smile enthusiastically when I mention the now familiar words "Rosh Hashannah" or "Hannukah."
Even funnier, though, is that Ben and I are both living in Shitara, we figure that out of 5,000 people, we in Shitara might very well have the highest concentration of Jews in Japan.
This is from the August 18th Metropolitan Diary:
Dear Diary:
One recent afternoon, I was waiting in line at the silver counter at Tiffany. A woman ahead of me had just purchased a bracelet and was filling out a gift card. She looked up and asked the salesclerk, "How do you spell 'bar mitzvah'?" The salesclerk didn't hear her. I intervened.
"Bar mitzvah?" I asked.
She smiled and nodded.
"Didn't you buy a bracelet?" I asked.
"Why, yes I did," she answered.
"So it's for a girl?"
"That's correct," she said.
I explained: "Well, bar mitzvah is for a boy. Bas mitzvah is for a girl. So you should say 'Happy bas mitzvah.' " She thanked me, then I asked, "Do you know if they are Sephardic or Ashkenazic?"
Her face dropped. "Oh my, I have no idea. Does it matter?" she asked.
I replied: "No, not for the purpose of a gift. But if they are Ashkenazic, it's bas mitzvah, Sephardic is bat mitzvah."
"So how do I spell it?" she asked. I told her. She smiled and said: "I'm visiting from Milwaukee. Thank you for all this information, it's so interesting." She looked a bit sheepish and said, "I don't know any of this; I'm a Catholic."
I said, "So am I."
Surprised, she asked, "My goodness, how do you know all this information?"
I responded matter-of-factly, "I live here."
-Brian Honan
I've often tried to explain this phenomenon to non-New Yorkers, and sometimes to Japanese people, who seem to only half believe me.
Ironically, though, it has relevance here. My predecessor, Ben, was Jewish, and in his monthly column in the town newsletter, he often introduced Jewish holidays and customs. Many people in the town smile enthusiastically when I mention the now familiar words "Rosh Hashannah" or "Hannukah."
Even funnier, though, is that Ben and I are both living in Shitara, we figure that out of 5,000 people, we in Shitara might very well have the highest concentration of Jews in Japan.
Sunday, August 15, 2004
Taguchi encounters
I was dying for some basil, but there was none to be had, either fresh or dried. I decided that, despite its being the end of the summer, I would plant some.
At the first store I went to looking for seeds (they had dirt and planters out front), there were no seeds, but a friendly old obaasan (granny) who introduced me to her daughter, who was a modern artist with an upcoming exhibition in Nagoya. She showed me her work, and she told me how her daughter lived in London, so we were able to speak some English. Who woulda thunk that there was a house full of award-winning abstract art down the street from me? Basil was a bust, but at least I got a dose of culture.
I gave up on basil for the day, and went to meet my friend (and predecessor) Ben. When I met him, he was having a conversation with a very petite obaasan who was talking a mile a minute. I introduced myself, and she bantered on without the usual pauses to make sure that my foreign mind was absorbing it all. She went on about how it was really too expensive to bring presents all of her friends in nursing homes, or even to get to the ones in Hokkaido, but that now was the O-bon holiday, and all the dead relatives were going to come in to visit tonight anyway. Then, very abruptly, she started talking about how foreigners eat a lot of meat, but it makes them tall. "And, I watch those movies where the foreigners kiss, and it's so wonderful! The foreigners definitely have us Japanese beat in the kissing department!"
That is exactly what she said.
Back to the great basil hunt - yesterday morning, Ozzie neighbor Hamish and I walked through the entire downtown, but not even a suggestion of basil seeds. Finally we were walking past a florist near my work, and Hamish pointed to the plants lined up outside. "These are all basil! Why plant when you can get a fresh pot!" I walked into the unmanned, darkened store. The inside seemed to be some sort of stationary store. "Hello! Excuse me?"
Finally, a middle aged woman appeared from the back. I told her I wanted to buy one of her basil plants. She looked shocked, then laughed, "Oh, those aren't for sale. But I can give you one."
I tried to refuse, but she picked out a plant that had BOTH basil and the Japanese green, shiso. I was rather embarrassed, but now I have my own, very much alive and fresh, basil plant.
At the first store I went to looking for seeds (they had dirt and planters out front), there were no seeds, but a friendly old obaasan (granny) who introduced me to her daughter, who was a modern artist with an upcoming exhibition in Nagoya. She showed me her work, and she told me how her daughter lived in London, so we were able to speak some English. Who woulda thunk that there was a house full of award-winning abstract art down the street from me? Basil was a bust, but at least I got a dose of culture.
I gave up on basil for the day, and went to meet my friend (and predecessor) Ben. When I met him, he was having a conversation with a very petite obaasan who was talking a mile a minute. I introduced myself, and she bantered on without the usual pauses to make sure that my foreign mind was absorbing it all. She went on about how it was really too expensive to bring presents all of her friends in nursing homes, or even to get to the ones in Hokkaido, but that now was the O-bon holiday, and all the dead relatives were going to come in to visit tonight anyway. Then, very abruptly, she started talking about how foreigners eat a lot of meat, but it makes them tall. "And, I watch those movies where the foreigners kiss, and it's so wonderful! The foreigners definitely have us Japanese beat in the kissing department!"
That is exactly what she said.
Back to the great basil hunt - yesterday morning, Ozzie neighbor Hamish and I walked through the entire downtown, but not even a suggestion of basil seeds. Finally we were walking past a florist near my work, and Hamish pointed to the plants lined up outside. "These are all basil! Why plant when you can get a fresh pot!" I walked into the unmanned, darkened store. The inside seemed to be some sort of stationary store. "Hello! Excuse me?"
Finally, a middle aged woman appeared from the back. I told her I wanted to buy one of her basil plants. She looked shocked, then laughed, "Oh, those aren't for sale. But I can give you one."
I tried to refuse, but she picked out a plant that had BOTH basil and the Japanese green, shiso. I was rather embarrassed, but now I have my own, very much alive and fresh, basil plant.
At long last, my bathroom is set up.
First, let me explain how the shower water works here. On the right is the boiler. There is one dial which you turn one notch and hold while turning a crank that makes alarming banging noises. Then release the original dial, and - bingo! Hot water. If successful, you should be able to see the pilot light come on in the little black window. There is another dial to adjust the amount of gas, and another even to adjust the temperature. Another controls whether it should come out of the bathtub or the shower, etc. Very complicated.
When I first moved in to my apartment, I had no way of cleaning myself. The bathtub was disgusting and had no drain stopper, and the shower hose disconnected from the water boiler (left) when the water was turned on. We had the gas man come take a look at the situation, and he said he wasn't sure he could fix the problem without replacing the whole boiler, which would cost roughly US$1500. Replacing the bathtub would be $400.
In the meantime, I showered in my Ozzie neighbor's apartment while he was away on business. The first morning was a disaster. I didn't know how to use the shower, and after cranking to no avail, I started to smell gas. I opened all the windows, threw on some clothes and ran outside barefoot. (Jeez, how much would it suck to die by shower in someone else's apartment my first month in Japan? Yeah, it wasn't particularly funny at the moment.) With the help of the only two people I could find - an eight-year-old neighbor and the Japanese equivalent of the UPS guy - we made sure the gas was turned off and UPS man called some people from town hall, who came and decided there was no smell of gas, but they had no idea how to make the shower work. Let's just say it was a pretty grimy first week.
My boss told me that there were no funds reserved for apartment upkeep, and I'd have to figure something out. I mentioned it to Mr. Nanahara, who apparently inspected the apartment and deemed it unacceptable. Funds appeard, and now I have everything up and running, including my dream bathtub (with plug!). It's so deep that when I sit in it, the water comes up to my chin. I can even reheat the water when it cools off! Beautiful.
When I first moved in to my apartment, I had no way of cleaning myself. The bathtub was disgusting and had no drain stopper, and the shower hose disconnected from the water boiler (left) when the water was turned on. We had the gas man come take a look at the situation, and he said he wasn't sure he could fix the problem without replacing the whole boiler, which would cost roughly US$1500. Replacing the bathtub would be $400.
In the meantime, I showered in my Ozzie neighbor's apartment while he was away on business. The first morning was a disaster. I didn't know how to use the shower, and after cranking to no avail, I started to smell gas. I opened all the windows, threw on some clothes and ran outside barefoot. (Jeez, how much would it suck to die by shower in someone else's apartment my first month in Japan? Yeah, it wasn't particularly funny at the moment.) With the help of the only two people I could find - an eight-year-old neighbor and the Japanese equivalent of the UPS guy - we made sure the gas was turned off and UPS man called some people from town hall, who came and decided there was no smell of gas, but they had no idea how to make the shower work. Let's just say it was a pretty grimy first week.
My boss told me that there were no funds reserved for apartment upkeep, and I'd have to figure something out. I mentioned it to Mr. Nanahara, who apparently inspected the apartment and deemed it unacceptable. Funds appeard, and now I have everything up and running, including my dream bathtub (with plug!). It's so deep that when I sit in it, the water comes up to my chin. I can even reheat the water when it cools off! Beautiful.
Tuesday, August 10, 2004
Ohayo, Minna-san!
Well folks, I'm finally settled and ready to send all the news I can. Not totally sure about this blog thing, but hey, I'm still waking up at 5 am every day, so might as well be productive...
I'm living in a small town in a region I'd though no one had ever heard of, but apparently it was made famous by a photographer named Shinzo Maeda. Most of the "town" is literally in the mountains - houses along windy roads with no guard rails, terraced rice fields and tea and veggie farms - you name it. Absolutely gorgeous. When I first got here, I was staying in the home of one of the town's muck-a-mucks.
Now, I live in low-income housing in the downtown. Downtown is called "Taguchi," and the danchi (apartment building or complex) is called Yage Danchi.
I'd better get ready for work. I finally, after almost a week, have my very own shower.
More pictures (and explanaing) to come!
I'm living in a small town in a region I'd though no one had ever heard of, but apparently it was made famous by a photographer named Shinzo Maeda. Most of the "town" is literally in the mountains - houses along windy roads with no guard rails, terraced rice fields and tea and veggie farms - you name it. Absolutely gorgeous. When I first got here, I was staying in the home of one of the town's muck-a-mucks.
Now, I live in low-income housing in the downtown. Downtown is called "Taguchi," and the danchi (apartment building or complex) is called Yage Danchi.
I'd better get ready for work. I finally, after almost a week, have my very own shower.
More pictures (and explanaing) to come!
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