Me: I really like working at this school. I'm going to miss everyone when I go home.
Mr. S.: I've been teaching JHS for 16 years and I've never heard students say they love their ALT like these students love you. You love them, so they love you.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Food Glorious Food
I started running sorta-kinda regularly in January as part of Jaimie’s 2012 New Year’s Self Improvement Plan, and bought a pedometer to measure my progress. This pedometer doesn’t only measure steps but calories burned as well. Did you know you have to run 5,733 steps (something like 3 ½ miles) to burn only 248 calories?! That’s so depressing. One of my friends is training for a marathon and says that he burns 800 calories in a 10K run. That’s running 10K just to burn off one school lunch (great for the growing teenagers served—bad for the rest of us). I never knew you needed to spend that amount of energy just to burn so few calories!
But I’ve been doing pretty well running a couple times a week and trying to eat well. Because school lunch is loaded with so many calories, I try to eat only half or ¾ of it, except on curry days when I eat all of it because it’s so good! I’m biking to school as often as it doesn’t rain, and I go to track and field practice after school when I can, too, where I can do fun things like jumping hurdles and doing chin-ups.
I bring all this up because after making such an effort to Improve Myself, I had a good week in there when all those efforts went completely to waste.
Wednesday, February 29 was the last day of my Tamamura Japanese class. We had all worked hard for the past ten or twelve weeks, so to celebrate our last day we had an international party where everyone brought food from their country. There was American macaroni and cheese and chicken pot pie, deep-fried vegetables and sauce from China, Mexican taquitos (yes, I brought those), and a ton of Japanese food. Plus dessert – cupcakes, cheesecake from Costco, muffins . . . it was a veritable feast! And we all feasted like there was no tomorrow!
Two days later Mark had a Milkshake Murder Mystery Party for his 25th birthday. It’s just as its name implies: we all played a part in a murder mystery (I was poisoned by the Mayor just an hour in—thanks, Will) and drank as many milkshakes as possible at the same time. Again, the spread was incredible: pizza from Costco (thanks, Graham & Sam!), roast chicken (also from Costco, Chris and Hannah no okage), Emma’s delicious eggplant parmesan, and all kinds of other assorted deliciousnesses. It’s impossible to look all that goodness in the face and not enjoy it. Even when I was full to bursting, I couldn’t help having another ice cream sundae, especially with all the cherries and bananas and chocolate sauce lying around . . .
The day after Mark’s party, I left early in the morning to go to Shizuoka Prefecture with 11 of my teachers from school. We took a bus for the four-hour ride south, stopping several times along the way for snacks and breaks. Lunch was a seven-course delight of Japanese cooking: thin fried fish, assorted vegetables, rice, miso soup, green tea, and I don’t remember what all else.
When we arrived at the ryokan we were staying at, we changed into yukattas and sandals (there’s a word for them, too) and went to soak in the outdoor onsen before dinner. The rooftop bath had a spectacular view of the ocean and the sun sinking behind the clouds. Then it was dinnertime.
I had never seen so much beautifully arranged food in my life! A whole fish was the resting place for slices of sashimi and various other seafood, as well as rice, soup, salad, pickly things, and other food that was very good but whose names I don’t know. We ate and drank for two hours, then went back to one of the rooms to drink more and eat snacks! I was exhausted after so much hot tubbing and eating, that I went straight to sleep on my futon.
Our seven o’clock breakfast was almost as elaborate as the meal the night before. There was fried fish and a salad and miso soup with a giant crab claw in it, plus rice and tea. It hadn’t even digested properly when we sat down at a Chinese restaurant in Yokohama for lunch just a few hours later. And even though it was delicious, and I kept eating, I felt vaguely sinful . . .
Oh, that week of gluttony! What an unfair world we live in, where there is too much food for me and not enough for everyone else! It’s back to running again . . .
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Takuya and Tomomi Get Married!
Back in September, my friend Takuya told me he’d be getting married in January, and asked me to sing at the reception. I felt really honored to be invited to this—my first—Japanese wedding, and was pretty sure the singing thing was just a joke he said over a few drinks. It turns out he was serious, though, which cranked my nervousness level up a notch. Now, not only would I be the only foreigner in a crowd of Japanese guests, following whatever unknown etiquette and wedding protocol there is, but I’d be playing the piano and singing a solo, too!
OK, so being the only foreigner isn’t that bad, since I am pretty often. Usually, I’m with a group of friends, though, not venerable family members and business acquaintances! I felt pressure, like the weight of the entire American culture was resting on my shoulders, and I’d better not mess up. Plus, Japanese girls are always so beautiful in their cute expensive dresses (or kimonos) and elaborate hairstyles that I was afraid I’d be frumpy and foreign and unattractive beside them. Weddings are formal and stiff enough anyway, which makes me uncomfortable, but being stiff and formal in another culture is even scarier.
I think I prepared more for this wedding than for any other one! I bought my dress two months beforehand, spent too much money on a piece of sparkly rayon/polyester to cover my shoulders, watched countless YouTube videos on how to do my hair (but which I never really mastered), fretted over what jewelry to wear, and polished my shoes in preparation for the big day. I wrote out a two-minute speech in bad Japanese that one of my friends re-wrote in good Japanese. I even did the Japanese gift-giving tradition of money in a special envelope, since they don’t do gift registries here. And of course, I practiced playing and singing every day.
Choosing which one to do was hard, since I’d feel ridiculous singing the traditional wedding pop songs most people suggested. I finally settled on a nice arrangement of “Be Thou My Vision” by the Martins, since my brother sang that song (although not that version) at my sister’s wedding back in 2002. I really wanted to play a piano piano, but they didn’t have one at the wedding hall. So I had to make do with a keyboard that my school was nice enough to lend me.
In retrospect, I didn’t need to worry half as much as I did, but on the day of the wedding, I so nervous it was hard to breathe. I took a taxi to the wedding hall at 9:00 a.m. and ran through the song twice with Takuya playing guitar. It went OK. But my hair that I had so meticulously put up in the morning was coming undone, and I had to ask one of the wedding hall attendants to re-do it for me. Then I remembered I hadn’t practiced my speech, so I started working on that while sipping the coffee that one of the attendants brought me. Another girl brought me a small cup of nihonshu sake, which helped me relax a bit. I kept telling myself that Takuya and Tomomi are doing a whole lot more to be nervous about than I am, but it didn’t really help.
The whole vibe to the wedding was different than a traditional ceremony in the U.S. (for obvious reasons). Instead of a church, the wedding venue was a beautiful brick hall with a small chapel upstairs and a large room downstairs with big glass doors that led into two meticulously maintained gardens. There was no priest or pastor; instead, an attractive woman with a voice like silk guided us through each part of the ceremony as the master (matron?) of ceremonies. There were no bridesmaids, groomsmen, flower girls, or ringbearers, either, just the employees of the chapel, who glided around efficiently, making sure everything was running smoothly.
The wedding ceremony itself was held in the chapel, big enough to seat the 50 guests with about five chairs left over. Before the bride and groom walked in, we watched a short video that had copious pictures of their wedding rings in it. Then the great doors opened and Takuya, together with his parents, walked in with a long red ribbon strung between them. In the same way, Tomomi and her parents entered the room a moment later (no one stood up, but there were many pictures taken), also with a ribbon. There was no bridal march; instead it was all Japanese pop, albeit romantic Japanese pop. At the front of the room, the ribbons were taken from them, and Takuya and Tomomi stood in front of the room by themselves. They read their vows aloud from a card, together in one loud voice. All I really understood was “Today in front of everyone” but I'm sure it was very nice! After they exchanged rings (given to them by one of the black-attired attendants), they held their left hands up in front of the guests, who clapped. Takuya planted a chaste kiss on Tomomi’s forehead, then the new couple, as well as their parents, signed their three separate certificates and held them up high in front of the room. There was a lot of bowing, picture-taking, and reserved clapping, and it was over.
After the ceremony came lunch—a delicious 6-course affair of smoked salmon, soup, butter fish, yuzu sherbert, roasted chicken, and rice in broth. It’s a shame I was too nervous about my impending performance to do more than just nibble at the plates as they were set before me, delicious as they were. I tried to make pleasant conversation with the people at my table—a couple from Takasaki with their 9-year old daughter, a 38-year old man from Osaka, and a 28-year old guy, the easiest to talk to because he could speak Spanish, too. We watched well-wishing videos from Takuya’s brother in New York and his friends in Chile, and a slideshow of Takuya and Tomomi growing up—so cute! Then for about half an hour, friends and relatives went to the front of the room to make speeches, none of which I paid any attention to but all of which I’m sure were kind and interesting. What I did keep noticing was the hip-looking photographer with the chinstrap beard as he slid around the room taking pictures . . .
Then it was my turn! I took a deep breath, said to myself, “I can do this,” and walked the million miles across the room to sit at the keyboard. Takuya picked up his guitar; I flipped the “on” switch on the keyboard. We shook hands gravely and said, “OK, let’s do this.” I pressed the keys, prepared to hear the song wafting from the speakers.
Nothing happened.
I tried again.
Still nothing.
“Sho-sho o-machi, kudasai,” I said politely (please wait just a second).
Two attendants rushed over to see what was wrong. While they fiddled with switches and plugs, Takuya told the audience, “This is Jaimie’s first Japanese wedding, and she’s really nervous, so let’s give her a loud round of applause to make her feel better.” Everyone started clapping and I started laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. My nervousness began to slip away. That’s when I noticed that some well-meaning person had mistakenly plugged the pedal into the power outlet, and vice versa. So I did a little switch-a-roo, and we could start for real.
The whole thing went off without a hitch! After the first verse ended, a few people burst out into spontaneous applause—because it was so good, I hope, not because they thought it was the end. I even hit the high note without too much trouble. No one could see my right leg trembling on the pedal, even though they might have been able to hear some of the wavering in my voice. The thing is, though, as soon as I was actually playing, I was mostly okay.
When the song was over, it was speech time. I had forgotten to bring my notecard up to the front, so in my broken Japanese, I said:
“Thank you so much. The truth is, when Takuya asked me, ‘Please play at my wedding,’ I thought it was a joke. Because everyone was drinking. But, it wasn’t a joke. Really, I feel very happy to have been invited here. (Switch to Spanish) It’s an honor to be here. I hope you are always very happy. (Back to Japanese) Forever, forever, I wish you happy. (Spanish) Congratulations. (Japanese) Thank you.”
When I sat down again at my table, I felt so relieved that it was over that I downed a glass of beer. Finally, I could relax and enjoy myself.
The rest of the afternoon went by quickly: there was a long, outdoor dessert buffet loaded with wedding cake, cheesecake, chestnut pie (similar to pecan pie but less sweet), assorted jellies and puddings, sweetrolls, ice cream, and other deliciousnesses just waiting for me to eat all of them. I also caught a picture of Mr. Photographer with my own camera while he wasn’t looking . . . but shhh, don’t tell him.
Finally, all the speeches were over, the tears were shed, the final “omedetous/congratulations” said. It was time for Party #2.
Most of the guests went home, but about twenty of us went to meet Takuya and Tomomi at a restaurant in Takasaki. One of the wedding hall employees, a beautiful 27-year old girl, came too. We hung out there, snacking on izekaya food and drinking assorted beverages until 6:00 p.m. There I learned that while I’d been sneaking glances at the photographer all day, he’d been sneaking glances at me, too. “He really wants to meet you,” Sanae confided in me. “He told me.”
So, at Party #3, this time in downtown Takasaki, I found myself sitting across from Yuu Inoguchi, suitless and camera-less but still hip in his olive green sweater and black hat. We ignored most of the other guests, who were busy knocking back as many beers as possible, to begin the getting-to-know-you process. His English is just about non-existent, so we relied heavily on my so-so Japanese, an electronic dictionary, and Takuya (“Como se dice ~~ en japones?!”), whom we called over often. Throughout the course of our conversation, we discovered that we like a lot of the same things--movies, outdoorsy things, mountains, reading in the park, that sort of thing. And it was really fun to talk with each other. I don't have any illusions--we just met after all--but I am smiling with possibility. If nothing else, we'll be friends, and having new friends is always great.
So, in the immortal words of Takuya Sato, “The past is the past, the present is the present, and the future is the future."
Happy Happy Wedding Day!
OK, so being the only foreigner isn’t that bad, since I am pretty often. Usually, I’m with a group of friends, though, not venerable family members and business acquaintances! I felt pressure, like the weight of the entire American culture was resting on my shoulders, and I’d better not mess up. Plus, Japanese girls are always so beautiful in their cute expensive dresses (or kimonos) and elaborate hairstyles that I was afraid I’d be frumpy and foreign and unattractive beside them. Weddings are formal and stiff enough anyway, which makes me uncomfortable, but being stiff and formal in another culture is even scarier.
I think I prepared more for this wedding than for any other one! I bought my dress two months beforehand, spent too much money on a piece of sparkly rayon/polyester to cover my shoulders, watched countless YouTube videos on how to do my hair (but which I never really mastered), fretted over what jewelry to wear, and polished my shoes in preparation for the big day. I wrote out a two-minute speech in bad Japanese that one of my friends re-wrote in good Japanese. I even did the Japanese gift-giving tradition of money in a special envelope, since they don’t do gift registries here. And of course, I practiced playing and singing every day.
Choosing which one to do was hard, since I’d feel ridiculous singing the traditional wedding pop songs most people suggested. I finally settled on a nice arrangement of “Be Thou My Vision” by the Martins, since my brother sang that song (although not that version) at my sister’s wedding back in 2002. I really wanted to play a piano piano, but they didn’t have one at the wedding hall. So I had to make do with a keyboard that my school was nice enough to lend me.
In retrospect, I didn’t need to worry half as much as I did, but on the day of the wedding, I so nervous it was hard to breathe. I took a taxi to the wedding hall at 9:00 a.m. and ran through the song twice with Takuya playing guitar. It went OK. But my hair that I had so meticulously put up in the morning was coming undone, and I had to ask one of the wedding hall attendants to re-do it for me. Then I remembered I hadn’t practiced my speech, so I started working on that while sipping the coffee that one of the attendants brought me. Another girl brought me a small cup of nihonshu sake, which helped me relax a bit. I kept telling myself that Takuya and Tomomi are doing a whole lot more to be nervous about than I am, but it didn’t really help.
The whole vibe to the wedding was different than a traditional ceremony in the U.S. (for obvious reasons). Instead of a church, the wedding venue was a beautiful brick hall with a small chapel upstairs and a large room downstairs with big glass doors that led into two meticulously maintained gardens. There was no priest or pastor; instead, an attractive woman with a voice like silk guided us through each part of the ceremony as the master (matron?) of ceremonies. There were no bridesmaids, groomsmen, flower girls, or ringbearers, either, just the employees of the chapel, who glided around efficiently, making sure everything was running smoothly.
The wedding ceremony itself was held in the chapel, big enough to seat the 50 guests with about five chairs left over. Before the bride and groom walked in, we watched a short video that had copious pictures of their wedding rings in it. Then the great doors opened and Takuya, together with his parents, walked in with a long red ribbon strung between them. In the same way, Tomomi and her parents entered the room a moment later (no one stood up, but there were many pictures taken), also with a ribbon. There was no bridal march; instead it was all Japanese pop, albeit romantic Japanese pop. At the front of the room, the ribbons were taken from them, and Takuya and Tomomi stood in front of the room by themselves. They read their vows aloud from a card, together in one loud voice. All I really understood was “Today in front of everyone” but I'm sure it was very nice! After they exchanged rings (given to them by one of the black-attired attendants), they held their left hands up in front of the guests, who clapped. Takuya planted a chaste kiss on Tomomi’s forehead, then the new couple, as well as their parents, signed their three separate certificates and held them up high in front of the room. There was a lot of bowing, picture-taking, and reserved clapping, and it was over.
After the ceremony came lunch—a delicious 6-course affair of smoked salmon, soup, butter fish, yuzu sherbert, roasted chicken, and rice in broth. It’s a shame I was too nervous about my impending performance to do more than just nibble at the plates as they were set before me, delicious as they were. I tried to make pleasant conversation with the people at my table—a couple from Takasaki with their 9-year old daughter, a 38-year old man from Osaka, and a 28-year old guy, the easiest to talk to because he could speak Spanish, too. We watched well-wishing videos from Takuya’s brother in New York and his friends in Chile, and a slideshow of Takuya and Tomomi growing up—so cute! Then for about half an hour, friends and relatives went to the front of the room to make speeches, none of which I paid any attention to but all of which I’m sure were kind and interesting. What I did keep noticing was the hip-looking photographer with the chinstrap beard as he slid around the room taking pictures . . .
Then it was my turn! I took a deep breath, said to myself, “I can do this,” and walked the million miles across the room to sit at the keyboard. Takuya picked up his guitar; I flipped the “on” switch on the keyboard. We shook hands gravely and said, “OK, let’s do this.” I pressed the keys, prepared to hear the song wafting from the speakers.
Nothing happened.
I tried again.
Still nothing.
“Sho-sho o-machi, kudasai,” I said politely (please wait just a second).
Two attendants rushed over to see what was wrong. While they fiddled with switches and plugs, Takuya told the audience, “This is Jaimie’s first Japanese wedding, and she’s really nervous, so let’s give her a loud round of applause to make her feel better.” Everyone started clapping and I started laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. My nervousness began to slip away. That’s when I noticed that some well-meaning person had mistakenly plugged the pedal into the power outlet, and vice versa. So I did a little switch-a-roo, and we could start for real.
The whole thing went off without a hitch! After the first verse ended, a few people burst out into spontaneous applause—because it was so good, I hope, not because they thought it was the end. I even hit the high note without too much trouble. No one could see my right leg trembling on the pedal, even though they might have been able to hear some of the wavering in my voice. The thing is, though, as soon as I was actually playing, I was mostly okay.
When the song was over, it was speech time. I had forgotten to bring my notecard up to the front, so in my broken Japanese, I said:
“Thank you so much. The truth is, when Takuya asked me, ‘Please play at my wedding,’ I thought it was a joke. Because everyone was drinking. But, it wasn’t a joke. Really, I feel very happy to have been invited here. (Switch to Spanish) It’s an honor to be here. I hope you are always very happy. (Back to Japanese) Forever, forever, I wish you happy. (Spanish) Congratulations. (Japanese) Thank you.”
When I sat down again at my table, I felt so relieved that it was over that I downed a glass of beer. Finally, I could relax and enjoy myself.
The rest of the afternoon went by quickly: there was a long, outdoor dessert buffet loaded with wedding cake, cheesecake, chestnut pie (similar to pecan pie but less sweet), assorted jellies and puddings, sweetrolls, ice cream, and other deliciousnesses just waiting for me to eat all of them. I also caught a picture of Mr. Photographer with my own camera while he wasn’t looking . . . but shhh, don’t tell him.
Finally, all the speeches were over, the tears were shed, the final “omedetous/congratulations” said. It was time for Party #2.
Most of the guests went home, but about twenty of us went to meet Takuya and Tomomi at a restaurant in Takasaki. One of the wedding hall employees, a beautiful 27-year old girl, came too. We hung out there, snacking on izekaya food and drinking assorted beverages until 6:00 p.m. There I learned that while I’d been sneaking glances at the photographer all day, he’d been sneaking glances at me, too. “He really wants to meet you,” Sanae confided in me. “He told me.”
So, at Party #3, this time in downtown Takasaki, I found myself sitting across from Yuu Inoguchi, suitless and camera-less but still hip in his olive green sweater and black hat. We ignored most of the other guests, who were busy knocking back as many beers as possible, to begin the getting-to-know-you process. His English is just about non-existent, so we relied heavily on my so-so Japanese, an electronic dictionary, and Takuya (“Como se dice ~~ en japones?!”), whom we called over often. Throughout the course of our conversation, we discovered that we like a lot of the same things--movies, outdoorsy things, mountains, reading in the park, that sort of thing. And it was really fun to talk with each other. I don't have any illusions--we just met after all--but I am smiling with possibility. If nothing else, we'll be friends, and having new friends is always great.
So, in the immortal words of Takuya Sato, “The past is the past, the present is the present, and the future is the future."
Happy Happy Wedding Day!
Monday, January 9, 2012
Prologue
I have a travel diary that Eddie Knight gave to me back in 2002. On the first page I wrote (in somewhat incorrect Spanish):
“January 9, 2003: Today I received my passport. It’s the symbol of total freedom: I can travel anywhere in the world, with the wind at my back and the ground at my feet. I can buy a ticket and go to Spain, to Canada, to Ethiopia, to Russia, to Switzerland, to France, to Ireland or England. With this liberty I can come and go anywhere I please. My only concern is that I won’t have enough money, and that I’ll have to wait years and years before the moment arrives in which I can go to the most beautiful country in the world: Spain.”
Luckily for me, I was in Spain that summer, but my worry about funds was valid: I was running pretty low by my fifth week there. This is a theme that seems to repeat itself in all of my travels . . .
This travel diary has been with me not only in Spain, but also in Bolivia, Mexico (twice), Japan, and most recently, the Philippines. I only have 18 pages left. I wonder what words will fill its pages . . .
***
Chris and I decided to go to the Philippines just a few weeks before winter break. We bought our tickets (Tokyo-Taipei-Manila), and, with the invaluable help of his parents in the U.S. and his relatives in Manila, planned our two-week itinerary and booked hotels. Granted, a lot of our planning was last minute and involved several 4:00 a.m. calls across the globe, but we finally got it all sorted out. We would spend four days in Manila, four days in Boracay, four days in Cebu, taking several day trips throughout, and fly back to Tokyo from Manila after this 13-day adventure. Unfortunately, the best laid plans and all that, things didn't go quite as we planned.
***
“Remember,” Mark told us both on separate occasions before our trip. “If you get sick of each other, just say, ‘I need to have a few minutes,’ and get away from each other. Don’t bottle it in and keep being mad.”
This was dubbed “The Mark Brophy Moment.”
It's excellent advice for anyone traveling together for an extended amount of time. Luckily for Chris and I, we only needed it twice. ("I need my Mark Brophy!!!") And strangely enough, instead of never wanting to hang out again after spending 1/24th of a year together, we have been able to come out even better friends than before.
Here begins my Philippines tale.
Saturday, December 17, 2011
こんーこんーこんーこんにちは。 日本語勉強
I’ve been taking a lot of Japanese classes since I came to Japan.
I had that one community class with just me and the talking-so-fast-I-couldn’t-understand-a-word teacher from August to December 2010.
Then I started the private tutoring class once a week to prepare for the JLPT.
Then I got a different teacher at the community class and things went better.
And I was doing the mail-in JET course as well.
So in case you were wondering why my Japanese is so breathtakingly good (冗談！), that’s why.
I took the JLPT Level 3 on December 4, and I am fairly certain I failed miserably. I ran out of time on the reading section, guessed my way through the kanji part, but maybe have a fighting chance on grammar. Mmmm, so maybe it’s not so breathtakingly good after all . . .
On top of all these classes, I started a new one in Tamamura on December 2nd. Unlike my other classes—which basically consisted of one or two students per teacher—this is an actual class class, taught by certified JSOL (Japanese ESOL?) teachers and with enough students to fill up a decent-sized classroom, about 15. Every student except one is female, and together we represent the U.S., Peru, the Philippines, and China. This class, unlike the others I’ve attended, facilitates guided conversation. The teacher gives us handouts on different topics, then we talk about them in groups and as a class. So far, I’m really enjoying it, especially because the main teacher is a hoot. She’s Korean, tall, beautiful, and stylish, and speaks Japanese like a pro. Plus she has a sneaky habit of making fun of us students when we can’t speak correctly. I’ve been the butt of several of her jokes. I’m sure she’s laughing with me when I make a mistake . . . right?
However good the class, though, it’s still a pain to get to. I’m going with two other girls from Maebashi, and all of us have to jump through several hoops to get to the south side of Takasaki. One girl has to ride her bike half an hour to Maebashi Station then take the train one stop away to Shin Maebashi Station, where I pick her and the other girl up. The other girl takes the train, too, but the bike ride is shorter. We all ride together to Gunma Prefectural Women’s University, where the class is, then I take them back to Maebashi Station before driving back to my house. I always knew I hated driving—working at the CNNC did it to me—but I doubly hate it in Japan. Why can’t there be more convenient trains in Gunma?! But since there’s no ginger, we just suck up and bear it.
To make my life a little less stressful, though, I’ve dropped out of my other two Japanese classes. I now have my Monday and Thursday nights free again. And I’m biking to school every single non-rainy day, too, which is making me a much happier person.
After this class finishes in February, I’ll probably start up my other classes again. I just want to use the winter to relax a little bit before life speeds up again in the spring.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Music Japanese Junior High Schoolers Like
One of my last 3rd grade (14- and 15-year olds) lesson plans was on My Favorite Song. This was immediately following the Stevie Wonder lesson plan in the Total English book. Needless to say, they were not too impressed with Mr. Wonder, with all due respect. After listening to four Stevie Wonder songs and filling out a 5-question sheet on each one (this song is happy/sad/angry....the rhythm is fast/slow/medium...I give it a 1-10, etc.), we did the same with our favorite songs. Their song choices were interesting to me. I had expected a wealth of Arashi and AKB48 (idol pop music) but was astounded by the variety of their choices.
I haven't listened to all of them, but I've probably seen 30 or 40 of their recommended videos on YouTube. It seems like students really love Greeeen and Nishino Kana, as well as Exile, Funky Monky Babys, and Monkey Majik.
Here, for your listening pleasure, are some of the ones I enjoyed (and others that are just funny).
Enjoy!
Song for You - Mongol 800
Future Gazer - Fripside
Chocolate Disco (チョコレートティスコ）- Perfume
Sazaesan's Opening Theme (Japanese cartoon)
Iindeska (いいんですか）- Radwimps
Yell - いきものがかり
Oyoge Taiyaki-kun - およげたいやきくん
Even if (たえおえどんなに) - Nishino Kana (西野カナ）
Love Song - Funky Monky Babys
Miso Soup - Tegomasu
Thank you, guys!
If anyone wants my entire list of about 100 songs, feel free to ask. Because nothing beats YouTubing unknown J-Pop songs when you've got nothing else to do.
I haven't listened to all of them, but I've probably seen 30 or 40 of their recommended videos on YouTube. It seems like students really love Greeeen and Nishino Kana, as well as Exile, Funky Monky Babys, and Monkey Majik.
Here, for your listening pleasure, are some of the ones I enjoyed (and others that are just funny).
Enjoy!
Song for You - Mongol 800
Future Gazer - Fripside
Chocolate Disco (チョコレートティスコ）- Perfume
Sazaesan's Opening Theme (Japanese cartoon)
Iindeska (いいんですか）- Radwimps
Yell - いきものがかり
Oyoge Taiyaki-kun - およげたいやきくん
Even if (たえおえどんなに) - Nishino Kana (西野カナ）
Love Song - Funky Monky Babys
Miso Soup - Tegomasu
Thank you, guys!
If anyone wants my entire list of about 100 songs, feel free to ask. Because nothing beats YouTubing unknown J-Pop songs when you've got nothing else to do.
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Tsukimi Part Two, But This Time It Was An Eclipse
Last night, Saturday, December 10, 2011, from 9:30 p.m. to well past midnight, there was a full lunar eclipse seen here in Japan (and throughout the rest of the world, for all I know).
Mark and I got together the same team from September’s Tsukimi—Mr. K, the 60something hippie, Ryo, the nice Chinese guy, Ms. M, Mark’s Japanese teacher (this time, without her 16-year old daughter), Mark, and me. Unfortunately, Sho is in Canada and couldn’t join us, but our friend H from Australia came in his stead; not exactly the same, but quite a worthy substitute.
Before leaving for the park, Mark, Ryo, H and I feasted on Ryo’s mouthwatering nabe—a huge hot pot filled with carrots, spinach, mushrooms, cabbage, mochi, and I don’t know what all else—to warm ourselves up. I put on about eight layers of clothing and we brought blankets and hot drinks to keep us warm. Then we went to the same baseball field in Maebashi, this time to watch the moon go black. It was deathly cold, but sitting in a circle with five other people kept us toasty warm—lukewarm toast, maybe.
At first, it looked like someone had spilled ink on one side of the moon (an analogy stolen from Mark, I believe). Just the corner of it was turning black. As the shadow fell over more and more of the moon, though, the color changed to something in-between red or brown, not black. I was actually expecting the moon to be completely blotted out from the sky, so I was surprised when even at full eclipse (full shadowing?) the shape of the moon was still visible.
As we sat under the starry sky, we told moon stories like we did last time at Tsukimi. Gradually the conversation moved to moon songs, so H sang us a song in Spanish about a man who wants to die under the moon, Mark recited “Hey Diddle Diddle,” and I sang “Moon River.” (Audrey Hepburn would have been proud.) Since the six of us we were representing six different countries—Japan, Canada, the U.S., China, and Australia/Colombia—the topic of national anthems came up. So there we were, sitting in a near-freezing baseball field, watching the moon be swallowed up by shadow, each of us singing a few lines from our countries and talking about what it means. It was a fun night.
Towards midnight, we were getting drowsy and it was getting to be colder than we could handle. A couple of us were lying back in the grass staring upwards, when flash! a shooting star darted across the sky. In the excitement of seeing a shooting star for the first time in years, I completely forgot to make a wish.
We didn’t stick around long enough to see the moon become unveiled. Instead, satisfied by our Brazilian snacks, hot tea, and moon viewing, we retired to our separate houses, to await the next moon event that will bring us all back together again.
Team Tsukimi
(All photos credit Liang Hongbo. Thank you!)
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