My Weekend in South America

I spent this past weekend in Ota City, Gunma, with my new Brazilian friend Ana Cecilia and her family: her Peruvian husband and model-beautiful-but-still-kind-of-whiny 12-year old twin girls. It was such a breath of fresh air to be around Latin Americans again, chattering away in Spanish and eating delicious South American cooking! I had met Ana and her friend Emy at the DMV a few weeks ago and exchanged phone numbers with the promise to keep in touch. Finally we decided to meet on Saturday at Kumagaya Station in Saitama, 50 kilometers east of Takasaki and a 20-minute drive from their house.

When they came to pick me up, the first thing that struck me was that Ana and her daughters were all wearing spaghetti-strapped tops! In this country of super-short skirts but always-covered shoulders, seeing bare arms was a shock. It was just like being back in America! I know that’s a weird thing to say, but it was nice to see them so very comfortable and free in this hot weather. I have succumbed to Japanese modesty and keep all my tank tops in my dresser drawer. 

As soon as I got in the car and we all had made our introductions, I was immediately peppered with questions about my life in Japan, my life in America, what I wanted to do while I was in Ota. Everyone kept interrupting and talking loudly over each other and there were a lot of light-hearted insults thrown around. Ana’s husband, Augusto, prefaced most of his questions with, “Now this is something I read on the Internet, and I’ve always wanted to ask a real American about this . . . “ before throwing out statistics about American foreign policy, President Obama, World War II, UFOs and Area 51, or the upcoming end of the world in 2012. It was a whirlwind of conversation before we even crossed the bridge back into Gunma (about a mile away). Oh, it was fun! To be surrounded by the sweet, spicy sounds of South American Spanish, like music to my ears! And I understood every word! After months of barely scraping by with Japanese, it was so NICE to be able to carry on a conversation in another foreign language I can actually speak. 

Our first stop was at a huge Brazilian shopping center/restaurant in Ota. It was about half the size of Target and filled with all kinds of things, from soap and t-shirts to whole roasted chickens and fruit. The restaurant was connected to the store, its menu hand-painted on a wooden sign in Portuguese. I felt exactly as if I had walked into La Vaca Ramona in Greensboro, except this time I was the outsider among outsiders, the American girl in the Brazilian community in Japan! But it was such a familiar feeling: I’m so used to being stared at when I go to traditional Mexican places in North Carolina. I smiled politely at the Brazilian folk sitting there, and looked around at all the new and interesting products, slightly familiar but still different.

There was a quick discussion about if we should eat there or somewhere else, and somewhere else won. We had lunch at a buffet-style Brazilian place called La Primavera a few blocks away. I had just eaten a little while ago so I couldn’t finish my plate, but I did enjoy the slices of roast beef (?), salad, white lasagna, rice and beans, and soup . . . and the continuing fun conversations about conspiracy theories and aliens.

The girls wanted to go to Aeon Mall after eating, so Ana and I sat in an open area talking while her husband and kids entertained themselves in the game arcade. We got home around 8:00 and rested for a bit before heading over to see Emy and her family a few blocks away. Just us girls went, leaving Augusto at home.

Up until then, I had been doing pretty well conversationally with the Spanish, but Emy and her husband, both from the middle of Brazil, barely speak it at all, even though they understand most of it. So I sat on the couch in their very nice upper-middle class house, listening to the swirls of Portuguese on one side as the adults talked, and the Japanese/Portuguese mix of Ana and Emy’s kids on the other side, and thought: Wow, I don’t know what’s going on. Once in a while Ana would look up and translate back into Spanish for me, but after a while I just gave up listening. There was a kid’s keyboard in the corner, so I entertained the kids (an 11-year old girl and a 5-year old boy) with “The Entertainer,” “The Nickelodeon” (is that its name?) and “Beach Ball Boogie,” that I drug out from somewhere in the far reaches of my memories and which reminded me of my brother back in 1994.

It’s amazing how similar the immigrant experience is all over the world. Back in the States, my Mexican and Central American clients would complain that their kids only speak in English and can’t think Spanish anymore; here on the other side of the world, Emy and Ana complain that their kids just speak in Japanese. It makes sense, since they spend all day in Japanese schools and have Japanese friends, but I’m sure there’s always that cultural identity balance they’re trying to achieve in school and at home. I wonder if there are the same statistics on Brazilian kids in Japan like there are on Mexican kids in America. I wonder if life is just as hard.

In any case, Ana’s kids are pretty bright to speak fluent Spanish, Portuguese, and Japanese, just like Emy’s kids speak Portuguese and Japanese. And if I keep hanging out with everyone, I’m going to have to learn a little português myself! They understand me when I respond in Spanish, but I only get about 70% of what they’re saying, and half of that is through body language. Alejandro and Emy's 5-year old son fell in love with me as the night progressed, and he kept chattering to me half in Portuguese and half in Japanese, with me understanding about every 20^th word. After a while I just gave up and said, “Uh-huh, uh-huh, oh, that’s great!” in English because I wasn’t sure what else to do.

At 10:00 p.m., the eight of us—4 adults and 4 kids—piled into Emy’s husband Alejandro’s car and drove to McDonald’s for dinner. The people behind the counter were all Japanese, but besides us, half a dozen white and dark Brazilians were in the restaurant as well. 

  

We got back to Emy and Alejandro’s at 11:00. Over the best cup of coffee I’ve ever had (my first Brazilian coffee?) we chattered on about languages, traveling, make-up, Avon, snakes in the Amazon, and how the Vietnamese eat spider legs. (No joke.) Alejandro could carry on a conversation in mixed-Spanish, so we could understand each other. Emy just speaks Portuguese so poor Ana had to translate a lot. It was still a really fun night, though!

I was absolutely exhausted and just wanted to go to bed as soon as we got home around 12:30, but the girls had rented a scary movie and wanted to watch that. So I crawled into bed with one of them beside me and the other on a mattress on the floor, and tried to sleep while they enjoyed their film (I'm not sure which one it was; I put earplugs in). I still hadn’t gone to sleep when it finished around 2:30 a.m., but I did manage to drift off for a little bit off and on until 9:45. Sleeping was almost impossible, though, because Shiori kept kicking me and shoving me to the other side of the bed in her sleep all night. This is what I get for doing the same thing when I was 12.

The morning was better, though: while the girls slept, Ana and I sat at the kitchen table in our t-shirt pajamas, sipping coffee and eating bread and eggs, our feet propped up under the table, completely at ease. It was relaxing.

Augusto came back from church around 12:30 (sorry, I was asleep when he left). The girls had woken up by then, and wanted to eat. We went first to Augusto’s mom’s shop, a little trailer-like thing that sells authentic Peruvian food. I bought camote (sweet potato) chips and banana chips, which I devoured that same day. Then we went to a restaurant for pollo a la brasa. It was just like being back in a Latina American place back in America, sitting on that bench in that tiny restaurant/store. We ordered a whole roasted chicken, salad, French fries, ceviche, and Inca Cola to drink. I kept marveling over the fact that I can sit in a Peruvian restaurant with South American friends in Japan! It’s so wonderful! Yay, diversity! 

They dropped me off at the station after lunch, and I was back in my apartment by 6:00. Ota is kind of a dull little town; I can see it doesn’t have great big attractions or anything. But it does have bilingual signs everywhere, and people in all shades of colors who speak different languages. It’s a nice break from the homogeneity of my daily life. It was really lovely for me to visit, because I felt, just for a little bit, like I was back at home. 

"American Finally Gets Driver's License"

Ever since I first came to Japan in August, I’ve heard people talking about how impossibly hard it is for foreigners to get their driver’s licenses in Japan. For a couple of months, all that talk just went in one ear and out the other, because I figured I’d just be here for a year and could use my international permit until then. No problem. I didn’t need a license.

But then I decided to stay for another year, and despite whatever strings I thought I could pull, I discovered that I actually couldn’t drive for two years on an international permit, even if I got it renewed when I go back to the States this summer. It’s a one-year deal in Japan. So, if I wanted to drive legally in this country for the 2011-2012 JET year, I was going to have to get my Japanese driver’s license.

I kept reminding myself all through February and March, “Jaimie, get your license. Get your license,” thinking of all those “it-took-me-six-months-to-get-mine” horror stories I’d heard. “Oh, I’ve got time, I’ve got time,” I threw back, wondering why I always repeat things twice when talking to myself.

In May, though, I got serious. My international permit would expire on July 31. Time was not on my side anymore. So I started reading blogs, the Gunma JET site, and any other website my friends would send me, trying to get ready.

The process in Japan is a little bit different from in the States. Back home, when I was 16, I took a summer driver’s ed course in high school, took the written test, took the driving test on a real road (OK, so I failed it twice, but hey, I was 16), and that was that. Renewing it has been easy: just a trip to the local DMV, answer a few questions, get a bad photo taken, and voila! License to drive. Now that you can’t drive till you’re 18, I don’t know how the process works, but that was my experience back in 1998.

Here, most Japanese people spend something like $3,000 on a rigorous driving school. They take these classes for six months, take a 50-question written test, take a closed-course driving test, and then they’re good to go.

Foreigners only have to take a 10-question written test (that a moron could answer) and the closed-course driving test (which is what everyone fails repeatedly).

I first started this process on Thursday, May 12. The Saturday before, I had gone to the practice course in Takasaki to see what I was up against. I drove it a few times; it didn’t seem too bad. So I walked into the DMV feeling pretty confident that I’d pass the first time.

But I didn’t even get through the door that day! The stern-looking man behind the counter took a look at all my papers, identification cards, passport, NC license, alien registration card and the duly-made copies of all of them, and determined them to be insufficient proof that I had had my driver’s license for the requisite three months before coming to Japan.

The last license I got was in 2007. It doesn’t expire till 2015. But they wanted to make a big deal of the fact that I had traveled outside of the U.S. in 2008, 2009, and 2010. I had stamps for all of my travels but one, where Immigration had scanned my passport instead of stamping it. Because of that one missing stamp, I was sent home in a huff on the first day with an order to bring back more proof.

What I brought back the next Tuesday was an English-speaking Japanese teacher from my school. I explained (with her interpreting) that the DMV was just being stupid, that if I got my license in August and didn't travel until the following July, and then went in and out of the country a few more times, that I was obviously residing legally in the United States, and that I was driving the whole time, and don’t be nit-picky. Of course I said all of this deferentially and politely. And it worked.

My interpreter left, and I took the paper test alone in a room with a less-stern-than-the-other-guy officer guarding me. The questions were like: “If the traffic light is green, but a police officer is standing in the middle of the road with his arms out, must you stop?” Or, “Is it OK to drive after you drink just a little alcohol or take just a few drugs?” You answer by putting a large O in the box if it’s correct, and an X if it’s wrong. I passed 8 out of 10, which could have been due to the poorly translated English, the double negatives that I thought too much about before answering, or because I just didn’t know (ha).

I waited in the lobby for about an hour before I was told to go down the hall to the practice course. “Look, but don’t go outside,” I was warned. So I went down the hall and into another wing, which looked down on the course. This is a picture of it:  

That day, it was me and about 10 or 12 other foreigners from all over the world: China, the Philippines, Nepal, Bangladesh, Brazil. I talked to a couple of people and was slightly shocked that some were there for their 8^th or 9^th go. So it’s true what they say about foreigners taking forever.

Talking to the other drivers (in a lovely mix of English and our bad Japanese), I realized that the driving test has nothing to do with your actual driving ability. What it is about is following the rules to a T. Just to move a few feet, you have to follow these steps exactly in order, or you lose points: 

1)   Inspect the car from the outside before getting in.
2)   Look both ways before opening the door.
3)   After you get in, a) adjust your seat, b) adjust the center mirror, c) put on your seatbelt, d) check your mirrors, e) put the car in Drive, f) release the emergency brake.
4)   Put on your right turn signal. Look in your right mirror. Look behind your shoulder. Pull out and go.

I wonder how many people actually follow these steps when they drive every day. For the test, though, you have to know these rules! If you turn on your turn signal a second later than they want you to, or if you don’t brake three times when slowing down from 50 km/hr, or any number of tiny details, you lose points. And if you do something really stupid like hit a curb during the crank or the S, you automatically fail.

After everyone takes the test, you all go back to the lobby and wait for the officer to come out. He holds up a big whiteboard with numbers written on it. If your number is there, you passed. If your number isn’t there, you didn’t.

I thought I drove OK that first day, but obviously I didn’t. Only one person passed.

The second time I came back, I thought I’d be all right. I did all my preparations and was going OK, until I came to the S curve. I hit the curb. Automatic fail. My new Spanish-speaking Brazilian friend Ana (whom I met that first day) got her license, though, and I was happy for her.  

The third time’s the charm! But after we all congregated in the lobby after taking the test, the officer came out empty-handed. “Kyo imasen,” he said. (Today, there’s nobody.)

I was beginning to think I’d never get that damn thing. I’d already gone to the practice course twice (and spent 150 bucks on it). I was tired of failing and tired of trying. I was also mad because they don’t tell you what you do wrong during the test! They just pass or fail you without letting you know what you need to improve on. When you ask, they say, “This is a test, not driving school. If you want to know how to improve, go to driving school.” Ouch.

A few days after my third try, I went to Maebashi to meet with a girl who had taken the test 11 times. She gave me a detailed course printout with copious notes and a lot of great pointers on what to do during the test. I left thinking maybe I could do it in less than ten.

On Thursday, June 2, I went back for the fifth time (fourth driving). There were only four of us that day: two college-aged boys from Shanghai and a graduate-student from Nepal. We chattered away in an English/Japanese mix, with one Chinese boy interpreting for his friend. We were all fairly confident we’d all fail, especially the Nepalese guy, who had been told as soon as he walked in that he wouldn’t pass. “It’s only your second time,” he was told. “There’s no way you’ll get it.” What if he’d have driven it perfectly, though? Would they fail him just because he hadn’t had enough experience? Do they just want you to spend a lot of money? 

The English-speaking Chinese boy went first, with his friend and me in the backseat. It was his first time, and you could tell. He seemed unsure of the course and didn’t know quite what to do. He left the car door open when he got out, and didn’t put the E brake on like you’re supposed do.

Then it was my turn. I did all my preparatory work, checking my mirrors and adjusting my seat and all that, then pulled out onto the course. As I drove, I counted mentally the hateful sound of the officer’s pen striking the paper, as he marks off mistakes. It seemed an awful lot. As I rounded the last curve to go back to start, he started scribbling even more onto his paper. “Great, just great,” I thought. “Well, maybe next time.”

But lo and behold, when the four of us congregated in front of the counter like beggars waiting for a scrap of bread, the officer held up a sign with the number 5 scrawled on it. That was me! I couldn’t believe it for a second. Then I did a little jump and a little dance and blew kisses at the officer (SO un-Japanese of me!). Since he was the kindly man, not the mean one, he smiled and wasn’t offended. He walked me through some paperwork and told me to come back soon to get my picture taken and the real license issued.

Today is Sunday. I go back tomorrow afternoon for the last time, and I will walk out with a real Japanese driver’s license! I’m still not exactly convinced I need a car next year. . . I wonder if I could save my 25,000ish yen a month (about what I spent just to get the license) and save it instead. But am I really disciplined enough to bike or take the bus all the time, everywhere? At least, now that I actually have a license, I can make that decision myself and not have it be made for me.

By the way, I was Skyping with my mom this morning, and my stepdad stepped in just to say, “Hey, I was reading in the Japanese papers this morning: ‘American Finally Gets Driver’s License.’” Thanks for giving me a good title! :)

Sports & Clubs

This is just a quick note to say how much fun I had after school yesterday with the track team! Japanese junior high schools are packed with club activities (what we'd call sports teams, except these kids don't try out, they just join): baseball, softball, volleyball, basketball, track & field, tennis, judo, kendo, table tennis, brass band, art, home economics. . . there are probably more but I can't think of them right now. The school day finishes at 3:55, and club activities go from 4:00-6:00 p.m.

Since we've been having such nice weather recently, I've felt the pull in my bones to get outside and DO something! Honestly, I've always been kind of anti-sports: my physical activity usually consists of yoga or mountain climbing, not chasing a ball around. But recently I've really enjoyed throwing Frisbees or kicking a soccer ball, so I figured I'd try my luck with sports at school.

I changed into my snazzy track pants and t-shirt and went out on the playing field, which was crawling with students! The basketball team was running laps, the soccer team was out playing, the softball and baseball teams were playing, too, each in their own corner of the field. I wanted to run with the track team, since I did such a good job at it in 7th grade in 1995 (school record: 1 mile in 7:02!!!). The track coach actually wasn't there; instead, one of the 3rd grade girls was leading the 30 students through practice.

First we ran around the perimeter of the school to warm up, then we did stretching excercises. We lined up and skipped halfway down the track before taking off in a dash to finish. We did these weird walking excercises to stretch your hamstrings. And we ran a little bit more.

Later, everyone in the team split up: some dragged out heavy mats and poles and practiced high jump, some got shot puts and started thowing them, some jumped over hurdles (hu-ru-du in Japanese), and others just ran laps. I skipped around from group to group, doing a little jumping, a little shot putting (terribly), discovered I can't do one pull-up on a bar, and finished off playing jump-rope with 7 first and second grade boys. The whole experience was in about 70% Japanese and 30% English. I was so impressed with the students' ability to go through with practice even though they didn't have anyone there yelling at them. Sure, there were some girls who ended up gossiping on the high jump mats instead of actually practicing, but overall, everyone was doing something.

When I said goodbye to everyone, one girl said, "Mata kitene!" (Come back!) I was so inspired that I went directly to Saty after school and bought another pair of track pants so I can join again! Now my schedule will be: Monday and Wednesday, Japanese class; Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday, track practice!

Maybe I should try out all the other sports, too. . . maybe I'll discover I'm not as incapable as I thought I was. It's actually fun!

In the Spring Time, the Only Pretty Ring Time . . .

 “. . . when birds do sing / hey ding a ling ding / sweet lovers love the Spring.”

I’ve been singing this ditty from Willy Wonka (stolen from our friend Will Shakespeare) for the past few weeks. It’s because it’s actually SPRING here, finally, after The Long Winter. Gunma actually has SPRING like God intended: warm, sunny days, periods of rain, and cool (but not chilly) nights. I used my heater once in a while up until the beginning of May, but since then, it’s been nice enough not to need it. My only complaint is Gunma wind, which whips around with a tornado force and sends my hair flying in my face and almost topples me on my bicycle, but when it’s calm, the weather is perfect. I feel so lucky.

Today after I failed my driver’s license test (more on that later; it needs its own post), I went to Mitsudera Park to write letters and study the ol’ Nihongo. I kept looking up, though, from my perch on a wooden bench, to the beauty that was all around me: the evening sun sinking into the pond, the flowers, the green grass, the waterfall, my students passing by in their bright blue uniforms (haha), and thought to myself, “I am so lucky.” Spring is so beautiful!

Side note: While I was sitting there studying, I heard feet behind me and a man’s voice saying, “Benkyo? (Study?)” I nodded without looking up and he guffawed loudly, coming around to the front of the gazebo. There were actually two of them, in their 40s or 50s, wearing painter’s clothes and smoking cigarettes. “Can we come in?” First Guy asked, and I said, “Dozo.” I wasn’t particularly scared—it was still light out and they seemed harmless enough—but I wasn’t particularly sure what they wanted, either. The more we talked, though, I began realize that they were just two country guys taking a walk in the park after work, and weren’t going to chop me up into little pieces and eat me (although that one guy was missing his top four front teeth, which made understanding a little difficult). But I was happy to notice that we were talking relatively smoothly in Japanese. And even when No Teeth’s cell phone rang and he answered it, I understood about 90% of what he was saying (“I was just taking a walk in the park . . . did you finish work? . . . I met this nice girl who teaches English . . . can you speak English . . . ?” etc.) punctuated by loud cackles. OK, so our conversation was really easy, but it was able to happen! I wondered how a Japanese girl studying in NC would feel if the men at Southern States (before it burned down) started up a conversation with her. Would it be hard for her to understand their country accents? 

Back to the spring, though: Last Saturday and Sunday were both as gorgeous as today was. I’m happy I was able to spend almost the entire two days outside soaking up the sun and the sky.

On Saturday, my friend S from Canada invited a good 20 or 30 people to a park in Shibukawa for what was deemed an EPIC BBQ. And it lived up to its name! I ate a hamburger, a couple of bites of steak (shared between four or five of us), assorted marinated meats, grilled corn on the cob and peppers, and lots of snack foods. Too bad I missed the chicken—it was all over before I got there—but I will not complain.

Among the guests were a Japanese woman and four or five kids between 4 and 10. After we ate, I spent the rest of the afternoon with them and a few ALTs, playing “Duck, Duck, Goose” (I forget the name, but it involves dropping a handkerchief into the goose’s hands), “Freeze Tag,” (Koli Oni), “Hide and Seek,” (forgot that name too), and “Red Light/Green Light.” It’s lovely that children’s games across the world are the same. How did that happen? I taught one girl Miss Mary Mack, and she in turn showed me the Japanese version, which is a little more complicated and whose story I couldn’t follow at all. We played on the monkey bars and the slides, and soared down a 20-foot long zipline, too.

Later on, our group joined forces with the group of older Japanese men at the table next to us. We all shared our food and got a bite of everything. Then we started an epic Frisbee game with five Frisbees and 15 people, adults and kids. Luckily no child got a black eye, so I consider it a success. Frisbees apparently promote internationalization, which is what JET is all about!

I stayed till almost 6:00 p.m.; afterwards, I went with six guys to an onsen nearby. They all disappeared into the men’s section for two hours, and I soaked alone in the women’s one for about thirty minutes. Onsens can be so relaxing, but nerve-wracking too when you feel like everyone is staring at you and you can’t stare back because you don’t have your glasses on. I just crashed when I got home; being in the sun all day and then in the hot springs made me sleepy.

On Sunday I returned to Maebashi Catholic Church for the first time since Easter, this time with my friend H from Colombia/Australia. The church only has one Spanish-speaking mass a month, and I had been wanting to go for a while! I can’t describe the happiness I felt when I walked in and saw the smattering of brown-skinned Latin American folk and heard them chattering in español. I felt so at home! There weren’t too many attendees, 20 or 25 at the most, but it was good because I could meet most of them afterwards. Almost everyone was from Colombia, Venezuela, or Peru, plus three nuns from Spain. The priest was Colombian, too, even though his white skin and reddish hair made him look Irish to me. Everyone except the priest had been living in Japan for the past 10-20 years, raising their families here. Having fluent conversations in a language besides English made my day: I haven’t forgotten Spanish yet!

In the afternoon, I met my friend M in Maebashi Park, studied some more Japanese, and threw around the Frisbee some more. It was so relaxing.

These are my favorite weekends: no huge trips anywhere, nothing complicated, just enjoying the weather and friends. I feel so grateful. 

Look for my next few posts about the driver's license debacle, and a list of all the food I want to eat when I go home this summer. 

Golden Week

In case you don’t already know, Japan has a set of holidays that put together are called Golden Week. May 3^rd is Constitution Day, May 4^th Greenery Day, and May 5^th Children’s Day. Schools and offices close and it’s a super busy travel season as people take advantage of their days off. April 29^th was also a holiday – Showa Day – which means that my work schedule was knocked completely off-kilter: Monday-Thursday work, Friday-Sunday off, Monday work, Tuesday-Thursday off, work Friday, then off for the weekend. Tomorrow is May 9^th and back to normal! If I had wanted to, I could take taken off Monday and Friday and used those 10 days to go somewhere spectacular like Okinawa or Hong Kong or Taiwan or the Philippines, like a lot of my friends did. But my monetary resources are running on the low side and I need to be saving more, so I decided to take a more subdued approach to the holiday. I hosted a dinner party on Sunday night for my Japanese friends (and a scant few foreigners) and spent Tuesday-Thursday around Tokyo, not exactly a cheap city, but cheaper than a plane ticket.

I spent half of Friday shopping at Costco for my dinner party, and the other half in Saitama at a farm! It was a beautiful day, and I got to see mother and baby goats, wooly white sheep, all-black and black-and-white spotted cows, and huge expanses of fields nestled in the rolling mountains. Hayato and I even took a butter-making class, which really only involved shaking a glass jar of cream until it solidified (Laura Ingalls Wilder taught me that a long time ago). The farm was one of the singular most beautiful places I’ve been to in Japan: the countryside feel of it, the green grass, the farm animals, the barns. It all reminded me nostalgically of home and I felt very happy there.

Of course, that relaxed feeling was pretty much ruined at Costco; there were so many people and so much to buy that I felt stressed out! I had originally thought of inviting 12 people to dinner, since I had a 9-pound turkey left over from Thanksgiving to feed them. I wanted a Thanksgiving-y feel, to celebrate life being normal in Gunma again after the March catastrophe. But because I’m way too social and like big parties, I ended up with 20 invitees! In the end, though, I realize I shouldn't have been too worried; I asked some people to bring food to share, and we had more than enough!

We set up a table in the corner, and on it were:

A turkey, which got demolished quickly

KFC chicken (thanks, Garry)

Mashed potatoes

Herbed stuffing

Green beans (which I forgot to take the ends off of and which hardly anyone ate—oops)

Cranberry sauce

Meatballs

Cheese & crackers

Andy’s delicious chilaquiles

Saori’s rice balls

Amy’s chocolate cake

Nozomi’s pumpkin cake

Tamura’s chocolate chip scones

A ton of assorted cookies (literally, 2,000 pounds!)

A ton of fruit

Sangria and other assorted beverages

I feel like there was more but I can’t remember right now. In any case, it was a feast, and everyone filled up! There were 9 Japanese people (including three teachers from school!), 7 Americans, and 1 Scot. The other three couldn't come. Before we ate, I had everyone sit on the floor and go around in a circle saying what they’re thankful for, which was kind of silly but kind of fun. People answered either in English or Japanese, and it was mostly, “Friends and family,” “My job,” “Peace,” or “Cell phones.” It was so much fun hanging out with everyone that I was sad to kick them all out at 11:00 so we could go to work the next day.

Tuesday started my real vacation. I met my friend Liz at Harajuku Station in Tokyo at 11:00 to go to a Cirque du Soleil performance! Liz and I were friends when she lived in Gunma, but she has since transferred to Yokohama, which might be a little bit cooler than Haruna. We saw “Kooza,” which was fabulously amazing. I had never seen a real live Cirque du Soleil performance before, and I was astounded at everything I saw! The music is spectacular, the contortionists still make me inwardly cringe, the tightrope walkers/bicyclists made my mouth gape open. . . all in all they beat any other performance I’d ever seen. I also felt cool because I could understand some of the Japanese the artists said when they were telling jokes or wandering around making fun of the audience members. And anything I didn’t understand, Liz did because her Japanese is amazing!

After the show was over and we neglected to buy a $40.00 umbrella with “Kooza” stenciled on it, we went outside in the drizzle to meet my friend Stephen. After a short debate, we decided to go to T.G.I. Friday’s for dinner. Now I’m not much on Friday’s back in the States, but it was so nice to get a little taste of home there in Tokyo. Stephen and I ate huge cheeseburgers and fries, and paid about $20.00 for them, too! But they were so worth it -- !

We cut the night short and parted ways soon after: Stephen and I to Omiya, and Liz back to Yokohama.

Wednesday’s weather was much better than Tuesday’s: lots of sun and a fresh breeze. Stephen and I started the day at the Imperial Palace in Tokyo, strolling around the gardens and looking at the gates that led to the Emperor’s residence (absolutely off-limits now). We toured a small textile museum as well before heading into Yokohama to meet Liz for lunch.

There was really no debate – Chinese food in Chinatown, of course! – but we couldn’t find a good restaurant without an hour-long wait. The streets were absolutely packed with people. Golden Week, huh. We ended up deciding on an a la carte place whose maitre d’ spoke flawless English. Lunch was served upstairs in a tatami room (Really? In China? Guess so.) at a low table. We ordered egg soup, chicken and cashews, sweet and sour pork, and something like fried chicken pieces. Oh yum!

After we ate we wandered around Chinatown, Yokohama Bay, and Cosmo World (a big amusement park). Liz wanted to go inside the “Ice House” at the park, so we paid our 500 yen for a two-minute race through a -30C (-22F) house full of Christmas decorations and penguins. It was cold.

Later that evening, we stopped for dinner at Bubby’s New York City Diner: Pie and Coffee, which was like another little piece of America right there in Japan. They didn't have either cherry pie or a glass of milk, but I did get a slice of apple pie and an incredibly sweet hot chocolate that I couldn’t finish (should have gotten the karai chocolate, huh). It was a lovely experience and made me nostalgic for diners back home.

We cut that night short as well, and went home to sleep.

Thursday was Museum Day. Stephen and I toured Ueno, the part of Tokyo with the Zoo and a bunch of national museums. We saw famous statues, a cool pond, the National Museum (Japanese history, art, and other famous things), which was really three buildings in one, and the National Museum of Nature and Science, which was two. I’m really happy I went to all of them; I learned a lot about Japan AND saw a lot of cool exhibits. The science museum was particularly awesome; I want to go back there again soon! It was really hands-on-y, and well laid-out.

I had to get back to Gunma, though, so I left Tokyo after lunch. I’m happy I had such a great little vacation there in the middle of the week! I still had one more party to go to, though!

After work on Friday, which I managed to get through somehow, the school had its beginning of the year enkai (drinking party). Most of the new teachers and the old teachers showed up, as well as those of us who just stayed. I got to see some friends I hadn’t seen in a while, which was lovely. The music teacher graced us with some piano music as we had our four-course dinner in the fancy Georgian House (the same venue as the October one) and even I played a song because they asked me to. It was also “Hook-Jaimie-Up-With-Mr.-M-Night,” apparently, because everyone kept encouraging us to talk to each other all night. There was a while there when the two of us sat alone at one table in the middle of the room while every other teacher was sitting somewhere else. If someone tried to sit down at the same table with us, they were immediately shooed away by Ms. O and Mr. S at the next table over, who were playing Cupid. Alas, it’s just not meant to be, but it’s a fun joke I suppose. Here’s to hoping Monday at school isn’t awkward! Around 9:30 a group of us old-and-regular teachers went to an izekaya (Mr. M not included, zannen) and stayed for a few more hours talking and drinking. I got home around 1:00 and started my weekend of doing absolutely nothing, which I accomplished with no problem whatsoever.

Fully recharged, refreshed, and relaxed, I am ready to tackle this next week coming up. 

Busy Busy Busy

I have been so busy recently I haven’t had time to sit and write anything down!  I used to have a lot of free time at school to work on my blog, but this year I’ve got a couple more classes than last year, so I don’t have as much time! School really is hectic this year, which is actually wonderful after a few weeks of nothing to do. On Monday I have 1^st, 3^rd, and 5^th periods; Tuesday, 1^st, 2^nd, 4^th, and 6^th; Wednesday 1^st, 3^rd, 4^th, 5^th, and 6^th (my busy day); Thursday 1^st and 4^th (my light day); and Friday 1^st, 2^nd, 4^th, and 6^th. Out of 6 periods.

After school is usually busy, too, going to Japanese class, studying, running errands, or hanging out with folk. My weekends are filled with activities so my house doesn’t get cleaned as often as it should.

HANAMI

So let’s see. After Hakone I went back to school and sat around wondering what the new school year was going to be like. Most of my days at school were spent studying Japanese or doing light preparation for class (since I didn’t know who I was going to teach with, or what the lesson would be, I couldn’t really make any big lesson plans). 

In April, the cherry blossoms started to come out in full force, so I went to a couple of hanami (花見, “flower” + “look”) parties. The first one I went to was with a huge group of Gunma ALTs from Maebashi, Takasaki, and Saitama. My friend S from UNCG was there, too, as well as a lot of other ALTs I don’t see very often. I was happy to see everyone! Unfortunately the weather was not cooperating, so we spent most of our time there sitting on a tarp under umbrellas while the weather alternated between a light drizzle and actual rain. What a strange event hanami parties are: just a big picnic with all your friends, and using the beauty of the cherry blossoms as an excuse to drink sake, shochu and wine at 2:00 in the afternoon. I’m sure the history of hanami parties was perhaps more refined, but nowadays it just seems to be a drinking party. And yes, the Prime Minister did request that revelers take it a little easier this year in respect for those in Tohoku who are suffering, so we tried to keep our party relatively calm—relatively. It wasn’t just us, though; there were several Japanese parties going on that same day, too, so I didn’t feel too terrible. And after the sun came out around 4:00 p.m., it turned into a beautiful day to take pictures of the pink and white blossoms blooming all around us.

NAGANO

We disbanded around 5:00, and my friend Hayato and I got in his car and made a road trip to Matsumoto City, Nagano! It was about a two and a half hour drive away, on the big interstate/interprefecture highway that winds through the mountains and on around Japan. (It’s also a toll road, and expensive.) We stayed the night in a normal business hotel like the Marriott (but not the Marriott) that had a huge onsen on the top floor. The onsen wasn’t too crowded, and I soaked in two inside tubs and one beautiful rock-garden outside tub for about 45 minutes. I tried out the sauna, also, but after two minutes I gave up. That night I slept like a log.

Sunday morning we woke up early, had a kind of gross Japanese breakfast in the dining room—fish, miso soup, rice, and seaweed, not exactly my favorite breakfast foods—and went straight to the Nagano Art Museum. Or maybe the Matsumoto City Art Museum. In either case, it was really cool and full of fun exhibitions from local artists, including one woman who had lived in New York in the 60s and had 3-D exhibits that you could walk through. Other collections were photographs from a small island in southern Japan and paintings from the 1980s and on.

After the museum, we toured Matsumoto Castle, which is so much more castle-like than Odawara was. This castle was actually surrounded by a real moat, and had the dark, wooden interior of a real castle-castle. The view from the top was spectacular—the gardens and the wide lawns were starting their entrance into spring and were beautiful. I decided it would be nice to own a castle and live there in the summer, with the fresh breeze blowing in. I can only imagine it would be frigid in the winter, though: how did they heat it, anyway?

There wasn’t as much in the interior of Matsumoto Castle as there was in Odawara. In Odawara there were broken pottery fragments from a few hundred years ago, sleeve hooks (long wooden poles with barbs on the end for catching shirt sleeves, I guess), and armor. At Matsumoto the most detail I found was a room with a pillow on the floor and some woven reed (?) room dividers. The rest was bare. But somehow Matsumoto seemed more magical—maybe because there was nothing in it. I could easily imagine the hoards of samurai soldiers gathered on the floor discussing battle plans.

We finished seeing the castle and decided to find something to eat—preferably soba, since Nagano is famous for it. But weirdly enough we drove and drove and drove and drove and didn’t see more than one or two restaurants. We had to break down and use Google Maps to find a good place. But the place we ended up eating—maybe 30 minutes away from Matsumoto—was absolutely delicious! I had my hot tea, cold soba, and tempura: just what I wanted.

The restaurant was close to a glass factory, at least, what we thought was a glass factory, but it turns out it was more like a glass boutique. Three whole floors were dedicated to glass works—vases, jewelry, knickknacks, you name it—and it was all for sale. I bought a collection of four tealight candles, but nothing made of glass, since it was all waaaaay out of my price range.

Next on the list was the Wasabi Farm! I had heard about this from a couple of people and was anxious to see how it was. Hayato’s GPS told us to go this way, then that way, then this way, and then before I knew it we were driving on a one-lane dirt road with trees on either side, looking suspiciously like rural North Carolina. “Um,” I said. “Is this the right way?” As soon as I said it, the road stopped. On the right side and in front of us was a rushing river; on the left was a glade of trees and a stream that flowed until it met the main river. It wasn’t what we were looking for, but it was absolutely beautiful: the warm afternoon sun, the North Carolina feel, the rocks and the river. I was perfectly content.

We set out to explore, making our way by the banks of the stream and through the trees. Everything was still bare in its winter garb, but on the ground blades of grass were growing strong. We realized that we were on the other side of the Wasabi Farm, because we saw little wasabi shoots (?) near the water. I almost was happier for having gotten lost; the whole place made me think of the creek back home. I felt very content and peaceful.

But it was getting late, and we had to go back to Gunma. So we got back in his car, skipped the actual Wasabi Farm tour, and arrived back home around 7:00.

HANAMI PART 2

It was back to school again on Monday. I’m starting to teach almost all by myself in one class, with minimal interpretation from my JTE. It’s kind of fantastic: I feel like a real teacher! And the students are kind: if I mess up, they don't hold it against me.

It was a hard week at work, but I got to rest a little bit over the weekend. On Saturday, I cleaned my house: vacuumed, scrubbed the bathroom, did loads of laundry, and organized the kitchen. I had all the windows open to let in the breeze, which was actually turning into a rather strong wind. I didn’t realize it at first, but after I looked down at the kotatsu/coffee table in the early afternoon, I realized there was a fine layer of dirt all over it. Gunma’s strong winds were bringing dust all into my perfectly clean house! Luckily most of my laundry was inside by then, but the ones I had hanging on the line outside were completely covered in dirt! The wind was flinging swirls of dust up even to the second story. When I walked into the bathroom, I almost cried: the dirt flung onto the still-wet tub and shower had turned into mud. Yuck, yuck, yuck. I closed all the windows and stared at the dust clouds outside. It looked just like a duststorm you'd see in Westerns. 

I was going to clean everything up on Sunday, but I decided to go to hanami instead. This time, my hanami party was almost all with Japanese folk! Two of my current teachers at school (the 24-year old girl and the handsome 24-year old boy, who is actually nice as well), plus three previous teachers (some of my favorites!) were there, as well as T from Glime, N and his friends, some of E’s friends from English club, and a couple of people I didn’t know. It was fun being the only foreigner! After a while, though, we joined forces with some of my ALT friends who were out, so we ended up having about 30 people, Japanese and foreign, all hanging out together under the trees! I felt like it was a good way to promote internationalization! Like my previous hanami party, this one wasn’t as perfect as it should be: because of the strong winds on Saturday, almost all of the cherry blossoms were on the ground. However, the weather was absolutely gorgeous, so we didn't complain about the lack of actual sakura.

I think that brings us up to date on the exciting happenings in my life. Oh, we are still getting aftershocks, but not too bad. Actually I was talking to my dad on Skype on Saturday morning and a pretty large one rumbled through during our conversation. And I think I felt one last night but I could have been dreaming . . . 

Very soon I will be buying a plane ticket for North Carolina! I look forward to eating some good Southern food and seeing my friends and family! (Pay no attention to the order of that sentence.) I hope all is good back at home! See yuuu! :)

Hakone Part Two

SATURDAY


At 6:00 a.m. my alarm went off, and we were eating our Lawson’s convenience store breakfast at the bus stop by 7:00. The bus took us to Odawara Station, where we went to another bus stop to wait for the bus to take us to our final destination. There were only two people waiting at the bus stop, an older couple in their 60s perhaps, dressed in hiking clothes and wearing backpacks. I asked them what time it was, and then we spent the whole day together!

It wasn’t really planned, but M and I kept running into them all day! We talked a little bit at the bus stop about the hike, since we were both going to the same place, but they didn’t speak any English and M’s Japanese is about the same as mine. But they were a kind pair who wanted us to enjoy our time in Japan. Apparently they climbed this mountain every week, taking the train in from Yokohama. Now that’s something I want to do: be a retired person who goes hiking every week. That’s nice.

When we were dropped off in front of the temple in the mountains, we went our separate ways. The temple was absolutely beautiful, nestled high in the mountains with more levels than I counted. You enter through the huge gate (one more gate picture!) and go down a long path lined with high stones carved with poetry or prayers (?) on either side. The main courtyard is huge, and surrounded on each side with large wooden buildings. There are stone steps leading up to another level, where another temple and bell are. Then more steps, another level, more buildings. It was one of the biggest temple complexes I’ve seen so far, and also one of the most peaceful. Way back in the woods, up high in the mountains, you can’t hear anything but running water from the myriad waterfalls. I decided that if I ever become a Buddhist monk, I’ll try to get placed at that temple. (That’s probably not how it works, but that’s my idea.)

After we had spent about an hour at the temple, we began the actual hike. I was amazed at how quickly I ran out of breath and energy! The trees were thick and the first couple hundred meters went almost straight up over mossy rocks. It was fun to climb but I kept having to stop, and I’m sure M was wishing I’d hurry up. I guess biking to school for two weeks didn’t really prepare me for climbing a mountain.

After we’d walked about an hour and a half, we came up to a rest area overlooking the city below. There was a crude plank bench made of boards placed under two trees, and sitting on it were our new Japanese friends! We talked for a bit (“I’m so tired!”) and they shared a snack with us: cut up pineapple and fruit salad. In exchange, M gave them some chocolate covered macadamia nuts! They left before we did, and we gave them about a 15-minute start to get ahead of us.

We kept going, up and up and up, on this mountain that reminded me of the Appalachians, with its red dirt and pine trees, only reminding me I was in Japan with the bamboo grass and occasional bamboo thicket. Then the woods stopped and a sloping grass field was in front of us. This area used to be a ski slope (maybe?) and I think we were walking under where the cable cars used to be. About halfway up, we ran into Obaasan and Ojiisan again (funny, we never asked their names, and never told them ours, either). They were making it, slowly but surely. We walked together for about ten minutes, chatting amicably about the weather and the hike, before parting ways again.

Finally we made it to the summit! When we emerged from the trees and out into the wide open air, the first thing we saw was Mt. Fuji looming in the distance, standing out from every other mountain, with a white cap of snow still on the top. Looking at it from a distance, I couldn’t believe I had actually been on it before. What on earth was I thinking? From far away, it is so beautiful and majestic; from up close, it’s so rocky!

Ten or fifteen minutes after we made it, Ojiisan and Obaasan arrived. The four of us sat near each other and enjoyed a picnic lunch on the top of the mountain in the bright sunny afternoon. We only stayed at the top for thirty minutes or so before heading back down.

This time, all four of us stayed together. We trooped the two and a half hours down in a line: Ojiisan, me, Obaasan, M. It was fun to speak Japanese all afternoon, even though sometimes (mostly!) we had trouble communicating. And it was helpful to have such seasoned hikers with us—when I complained about my knee getting out of whack again, which it does every time I climb a mountain, Ojiisan made me a present of an Icy Hot pack for it.

We went all the way into town together before we finally parted ways at the bus station. I couldn’t tell them how fun it had been just to hang out all day, so I just said arigatou gozaimasu a lot. Before we left, we all shook hands, and I gave Obaasan a hug. I think she was a little taken aback, but . . .

M and I found a nearby onsen, and spent almost an hour soaking our tired muscles in the hot water. There was a “resting room” on the third floor, covered in tatami mats, and we stretched out for a little bit with all the other people after bathing.

That night, I wasn’t worth anything, and feel dead asleep around 8:00 p.m.