The Usual Chill & Pre-Christmas Festivities

I am buried under my kotatsu (a coffee table with an electric heater underneath, surrounded by a blanket to trap the heat at your legs), drinking hot tea and eating a pb&j and an orange, listening to Christmas music and waiting for L to call me about what we’re doing for New Year’s in Kyoto. When I came home from school today, I turned my kerosene heater on, and the thermostat told me the temperature inside my house was 9 degrees Celsius. Yes, that’s 48 degrees Fahrenheit. I know it’s going to get pretty old if I keep complaining about the temperature all winter—I mean, everyone’s house is cold in Japan, and it’ll probably be hovering in the 30s when I wake up in the morning most days this winter. So I’ll try to keep my bitching to a minimum, and not screech when I can see my breath in the kitchen or when boiling water becomes tepid in a matter of minutes. It’s just par for the course. But man oh man it’s gonna be a long winter!

I’m keeping warm for the most part, though: I’ve got this handy-dandy kotatsu, a gallon-sized hot water bottle that I sleep with every night under a pile of thick blankets, and the not-so-dangerous kerosene heaters. I should make out all right for warmth all winter, as long as I keep wearing several layers of clothing and heating only one room at a time. I remember reading in an Early Colonial America magazine (don’t laugh; I get into stuff like that) of a foolproof way to stay warm all winter with only one log: Go to the top floor of your house. Drop the log out the window. Run downstairs. Pick up the log. Run back upstairs with the log. Repeat process until warm. Ha. Ha. Ha.

Changing the subject, I’ve had some fun pre-Christmas events recently. On Friday night, about 25 Takasaki ALTs got together at a fancy-shmancy restaurant called Hanabi’s in downtown Takasaki for an end-of-year Christmas party. Because I miss all my friends at the CNNC, I asked if we could play the White Elephant/Dirty Santa gift exchange and it was a hit. I got a cool “I Heart Melbourne, Australia” t-shirt that I’ll wear with pride, and a three-piece sake set. I was also able to get rid of a bunch of leftover stuff from my predecessors, like a Japanese manga set I’ll never read, a weird pink stuffed animal, and some other randomness. After our dinner and gift exchange (the stealing went quite well; Nolo would have been proud), half of our group went off to sing karaoke until 1:00 in the morning. (And I, cough cough, sang a song in Japanese. And by sang I mean fumbled my way through the verses but actually got the chorus right--thank you, Soshi, for that Radwimps CD years ago!) I took a taxi back home and surprised myself by having a conversation with the taxista the entire 20 minutes back to my house. The conversation consisted mostly of how much—or little—Japanese I could speak, how long I’ve been in Japan, what I do here, how long I’ll stay, and directions to my house. I was thrilled I could reply “either one” to his question of “Which 25 should I take?”

SATURDAY

On Saturday, I had a fun morning cleaning—like every Saturday—before meeting Mr. K at the Gunma Library at 11:30. We went to his house, where I met his wife and 8-year old daughter, who regaled me with an origami Santa Claus card, absolutely adorable. Over a cup of tea, we talked in a Japanese-English mix about a variety of topics: easy things like where we worked, hard things like language. I was very impressed with his wife’s English, though, especially since the first words out of her mouth were, “I’m sorry I don’t speak English!” before giving her entire self-introduction in it!

This led to a conversation about language in general, like how today’s Japanese is different from the Japanese spoken even 100 years ago. I was also interested when, as we were discussing the merits and drawbacks of kanji, Mr. K said that there were kanji used in the newspaper that even normal Japanese people don’t understand! To give me an example, he picked up the local paper that was lying on the table, and, after skimming it for about 15 seconds, pointed out three kanji in a row that made up one word. He read it out loud, pronouncing them fine, but when he looked up he said, “I don’t know what that means.” So Dr. P was right: pronouncing words does not mean you understand them. Reading is understanding, not just putting the string of syllables together correctly.

After our little visit, Mr. K and I went to a tempura restaurant off of the Takasaki Loop. The rest of his family couldn’t go because his wife was sick, wearing the traditional white facemask that everyone around here wears when they have a cold. All the way to the restaurant we debated the finer points of Christmas and American Christianity in our grossly inaccurate ways, neither of us really able to explain ourselves the way we wanted to, but understanding enough to have a lively conversation. We got to the restaurant just thirty minutes to closing time, so we ordered fast. When our food came—a nice meal of fried vegetables and shrimp, rice, miso soup, pickled vegetables, and hot tea, with a glass of apple juice for dessert—Mr. K coached me on the proper way to eat in a Japanese restaurant. You pick each dish up to bring the food to your mouth, never bend over the table to bring your mouth closer to the food. “This is the way dogs eat,” he said, referring to bending over your food. “People pick their plates up.” Duly noted. I was a little self-conscious for the rest of the meal, but I think I did okay, considering how much I like dogs.

I saw two of my students at the Gunma Library when Mr. K dropped me off. It was so cool to see them without their blue tracksuit uniforms on! K was wearing a black t-shirt under an unbuttoned teal- and black-checkered shirt, and T had on a pink coat. (Funny how Japanese style can be so early 90s and so super hip at the same time.) My students looked like real people outside of school, not just carbon copies of each other. It was refreshing to see some individuality.

On Saturday night I had a date with A, G, and Australian L—we drove from Takasaki all the way to Ogo to pick G up, then all the way back to Maebashi to eat shabu-shabu (which I couldn’t quit saying every time I dipped the thin slices of pork or beef into the boiling water), then back to Ogo again to see a light show in the Flower Park for the five minutes we had before it closed. It was a fun evening, despite the miles.

SUNDAY

Sunday was my host mom’s Christmas party. I got to her house bright and early at 9:30 a.m. so we could drive to a community center a couple miles away to set up. I got to wear a Santa outfit—well, a Santa hat and red Santa-like jacket, at least. It was a fun party even though I felt a little out-of-place. The families of her English students—about 50 people in all—brought all kinds of food, and we played a bunch of different games. I won two toothbrushes for being the first to finish an English-language word search, but I didn’t even try to compete in the “Guess This Song” contest. I couldn’t tell Exile from Arashi if I tried. I had to make the beginning and ending speeches in front of the group as well, which I did in a mix of easy English and incomprehensible Japanese (Yoko-san had to translate my Japanese into a language the crowd could understand). In the off time when I wasn’t participating in games or activities, I read “The Three Billy Goats Gruff” in Japanese, with about 60% success.

My Japanese is getting better, bit-by-bit. I need to sit down and conjugate verbs (and adjectives, too) until I can say them without thinking. I have a mental block on the dates, also; no matter how hard I try to learn first, second, third, fourth, etc. I can never remember them! But I am having marginal success at some things, so I feel like there is hope for me.

Back to Christmas for a second: I miss normal Christmas activities back at home, like caroling （や）, singing Christmas songs at church（や）, having a tree（や）, etc. I hope that all of you back in the States are drinking store-bought eggnog for me, too. That’s the one thing I’m dying for that I can’t get anywhere, and even though I make it at home, it’s never as delicious as ol’ Maola makes it. And a big thank you to all my friends who have provided me with Rice Krispie Treats, Chex Mix, fruitcake, Moravian cookies, spiced apple cider mix, and other such holiday goodness. Christmas Day will be yummy and traditional!

Till next time . . . メリークリスマス！Me-ri--Ku-ri-su-ma-su!