Tomorrow I will be getting on an airplane and flying back to America for the first time in almost a year. It's been just shy of a full 365 days, something like 51 weeks I think. I've absolutely worn myself out with travel preparations, coordinating transportation to and from all airports involved, packing my bags, cleaning my house, and making plans (seriously, I have a two-page "to buy" list and an absolutely packed schedule for every day I'm in the States). And emotionally, I'm fluttering between being absolutely ecstatic at to see my family and friends in America, and really sad to say goodbye to a lot of my ALT friends in Japan who are moving back to their home countries. This time of the year is just full of changes, and I'm all over the place! If I can survive the next 36-48 hours, I think I'll be OK!
Getting home involves:
1) Sleeping at a friend's house near Takasaki Station tonight because I live too far away
2) Taking the 8:25 a.m. bus to Narita airport (arriving around noon) on Friday
3) Taking an 11-hour flight from Narita to Minnesota (of all places)
4) A 2-hour layover which is hopefully enough time to go through customs and re-check in, plus eat something
5) A 3-hour flight to Raleigh, landing around 7:00 p.m.
6) A 2-hour-ish car ride to my mom's house, arriving around 9:00 p.m. Friday night, 8:00 a.m. Japan time.
Basically, it'll take 24 hours to get home. Uffff. I can do it, though! Ganbarimasu!
By the way, I find it fascinating that according to Google Maps (and personal experience), it takes 35 minutes to drive the 28 miles between Greensboro and Winston-Salem. And yet at the same time, it takes the exact amount of time to drive the 6.2 miles between my house and Takasaki Station.
Goodbye!
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Would You Like Rice With That Newspaper Subscription?
A few weeks ago I had a pretty unnerving experience with a door-to-door newspaper seller. I was getting ready to go to a BBQ in the mountains when I got a knock at the door. When I opened it, the guy standing there gave himself an involuntary shake (“Who’s this white girl?!”) before giving me a sorta-kinda professional smile.
“Japanese, Japanese, Japanese, shimbun, Japanese, Japanese, Japanese,” he said. He was maybe in his early 30s, wearing regular street clothes and no nametag. He didn’t offer me a business card. His white van was parked in front of my apartment building.
“Shimbun?” I asked dumbly. “Newspaper?”
“Yes!” he said in English. “Nu-su-pei-pa!”
“Daijoubu desu, nihongo wo yomemasen,” I told him, and made to shut the door, thinking that was it. (That’s OK, I can’t read Japanese.)
“Japanese Japanese Japanese ikagetsu dake Japanese,” he told me, not letting me shut him out just yet. (….just for a month….)
“Honto ni, nihongo wo yomemasen. Shimbun ga irimasen. Arigatou.” (No, really, I can’t read Japanese. I don’t need a newspaper. Thank you.)
“Japanesejapanesejapanesejapanesejapanesericejapanesejapanese! Chotto matte kudasai.” (….rice…wait just a second.)
He bounded down the stairs and I shut the door, immediately grabbing my cell phone to call my Japanese friend who was on his way to my house to pick me up for the party. Unfortunately, his English isn’t all that good over the phone.
“Hey! Where are you?” I asked. “There’s some guy at my house. Will you please ask him what he wants, and tell him to leave?”
“Nani? Nani?” (What? What?)
I repeated myself slower, but by this time, Newspaper Man was back, carrying a 5- or 10-kilo bag of rice with him.
“Nevermind,” I told my friend. “Just hurry up and get here.”
Newspaper Man stepped into my entryway where I take my shoes off, and shut the door behind him. Oh no. Luckily he stayed there, and didn’t try to come all the way into my house. (Sure, the entryway is considered public property in Japan, but you’re not supposed to shut the door!)
“Nanika u . . . ura . . . ure . . urimasuka?” I stumbled over the Japanese word. (Are you selling something?)
“Sou desu!” (Yes!) He started chattering away in Japanese again, and I interrupted him in English.
“I’m sorry, I don’t want a newspaper subscription, even if it is just for one month, I don’t need one, I can’t read Japanese, and what’s that rice all about? Will you please leave?”
“Dou imi, dou imi? Wakarimasen.” (What’s that mean? I don’t understand.)
“Irimasen! Sayonara!” (I don’t need it. Goodbye!)
He put the bag of rice at his feet and switched registers from polite to casual, putting the bag of rice at his feet. “Hitori de sundeiruno? Kare ga iruka?”(Do you live by yourself? Do you have a boyfriend?)
“Kare ga inai, hoshikunai!” I matched his register. (I don’t have a boyfriend; I don’t want one!)
“Nande?!” (Why not?!)
“Iranai. Shimbun mo iranai. Sayonara.” (I don’t need one. I don’t need a newspaper either. Goodbye.)
I wish I knew how to say, “Please go away,” or “Please leave,” in Japanese. He was crouched down in the entryway like he was going to stay for a while, the bag of rice (whose purpose I still didn’t understand) lying like a well-trained dog between his feet. I was hoping if I just said “goodbye” often enough he’d get the picture. Obviously he didn’t.
I tried in English anyway. “Please go away. My friends are coming in a few minutes to pick me up. Please go away. I don’t want anything.”
Of course he didn’t understand, and I was getting frustrated with this failing conversation that I didn’t even want to be having in the first place. It’s not like I had invited him in. He smiled sleezily and pointed at his face.
“Ore ga? Iranai?” (What about me? You don’t need me?)
“Iranai yo!” I lost my temper. “NANIMO kaitakunai, NANIMO hoshikunai, SAYONARA!” (NO! I don’t want to buy anything, I don’t want anything, goodbye!”)
I pointed at the door, pointed at him, and pointed at the door again. “Sayonara!”
I think he got the picture that time. He picked up his bag of rice, and with a half-hearted “sumimasen,” walked out the door. I double locked it and waited for my friends to come.
The next day was Saturday. I was hanging my laundry out on my balcony around noon when I saw that familiar white van pull up. Newspaper Man got out, glanced up at me, and hurriedly walked to my neighbor’s door with his head down. When she didn’t answer, he scuttled back to his van, slammed the door, and drove away in a hurry. I haven’t seen him since.
Whatever happened to the polite Japanese not wanting to intrude on anyone? Why push the issue of selling a newspaper to a girl who can’t even read it, even if she does get a free bag of rice with a one-month subscription? Why not just say, “Oh, excuse me,” and walk away as soon as she says, “No thanks”? Why try to force the issue? And why get all personal?!
***
Friday, July 1, 2011
Nothing Too Special
Nothing terribly exciting is happening, but here are a few of the normal things that have been going on.
1) I’ve had a terrible cold for the past week and a half! It started in my head, moved to my throat, has now settled permanently in my nose, rendering a trash can full of tissues. Gross. I’m ready to be able to breathe! I went home from school early last Wednesday and missed my Japanese class, much to my teacher’s chagrin (this is the second time I’ve missed class in three weeks). That night one of my friends biked over from Maebashi to bring me ginger ale, throat drops, and lemon tea, which was much appreciated and helped a lot. The nurse at school finally convinced me to go to the doctor, so I went with her after school yesterday. The doctor’s visit was all in Japanese, but it was super quick (20 minutes from in to out) and super cheap (1480 yen for the visit plus 4 different kinds of medicine). I hope I get better soon: it’s been 10 days now! Come on!
2) It’s been unbearably hot recently! Hot like you take a cold shower, step out, and are immediately covered in sweat again. During the winter’s frigidity, I had forgotten what the summer was like. Now I remember. The rainy season is over, and 90-degree mugginess has arrived. I come home from work, close myself in my bedroom, and turn on the air conditioner. Classrooms at school are sweltering, even though they’ve got the ceiling fans on. Only the staff room is air conditioned, and thank God for that. But we are all suffering.
3) I haven’t gone to the track-and-field club after school for almost two weeks! It’s terrible! I just don’t feel like being outside and running recently. On Saturday, the big Rikujo Taikai (Track-and Field Tournament, kind of like Field Day in elementary school) was held. I really wanted to be there all day to cheer for my track friends, but I had to miss the morning to teach a class. I arrived in time for the all-class relays, which were done under a drizzly sky. I even met two girls’ mothers, and was happy that I knew who their kids were!
4) The kids are starting to give their "Reflection" after cleaning time in English! This started when the VP wasn't there one afternoon, so the secretary and I became in charge. For the past three days, the kids who clean the staff room are trying their best, and it's so amazingly cute! They come up with sentences like, “Today, clean-shimashita. Tomorrow mo fight-o shimasu! Gokurosama deshita. Thank you!” Today it was, "Today wa chotto slow deshita. Kondo motto fast shimashou." You tell 'em, Hajime!
5) I have a story about a crazy newspaper seller guy, but I'll write that later.
6) I’m going home in three weeks, yo! In the meantime, here are my plans:
July 2: Fourth of July/Canada Day BBQ at Onogami Onsen Park
July 3: Japanese Language Proficiency Test (JLPT), Level 4
July 8-10: Fuji Lakes trip
July 15: Takasaki ALT Farewell Party
July 16: International party at Gunma University in Kiryu (my new Vietnamese college girl friend invited me)
July 20: Last day of school for summer break!
July 22: I’ll fly away, oh glory . . .
Tentative U.S. Schedule:
July 23-25: Sleep
July 28-30: Wilson
July 31-August 4: Lake Gaston with the fam
August 2: My 29th birthday (eeeek!)
August 4-8 (?): Winston-Salem/Greensboro
August 9-10: Wilson
August 10: Depart from RDU
August 11: Arrive in Japan. Sleep for three days.
I'll try to write interesting blog posts during all my travels. Thank you for being interested and for reading. :)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)