What You Wish For

Before I came to Japan, some of you might recall my excitement at the prospect of finally being considered exotic. Well, exotic I now am, and as usual, it’s not exactly what I planned.

This point was driven home in my first few minutes of my first full day at work. I had just entered the school and was placing my shoes in my locker – we have to wear special shoes for inside use – when three first grade boys passed by and stopped dead in their tracks when they saw me. They stood motionless for a moment, so I smiled and said hello. Suddenly, the boy in the middle pointed at me and started to yelp excitedly, ‘Eigojin! Eigojin!” (That means English person.) This continued for about 20 seconds - which sounds like a short period of time unless you actually have a young child yelling and pointing at you like you are a monkey in a zoo in which case I can tell you it, it feels like an eternity. Though I will admit to being probably slightly more amused at the whole spectacle than a monkey would be.

On the other end of the spectrum, I was having lunch with a fourth grade class the other day and as they were getting things ready, a girl approached me with a piece of paper and a pencil. With her little bit of English and my limited Japanese, I figured out that she was asking for me to sign my name on the scrap of paper. As my Mom will attest, my signature is completely illegible, so it took quite some concentration to write it clearly. Then, of course, all of the kids in the class started to scramble for a piece of paper and clamber for my signature as if I was some sort of rock star. This began as a slightly more flattering illustration of my exoticism, but ended on a more annoying note as I struggled to sign all thirty to forty pieces of paper while maintaining some legibility.

So the lesson, kids - be careful what you wish for. I wanted to be exotic, but didn’t realize I was coming to a country where exotic isn't as celebrated as it is in America. There is an old Japanese saying, “The nail that stands up will get pounded down.” To an American, or at least me, that sounds threatening. To the Japanese, I suppose it is reassuring. While something or someone that is different can be intriguing, they also find it to be faintly discomforting. Americans celebrate the unique. Japanese celebrate the average and ordinary.

That being said, I am enjoying my job teaching these young kids more than I thought could be possible. They are so excited to see me and come to my class. We play games and sing songs and just have a great time. And as I said in one of my earlier posts, I eat lunch with the kids in their classrooms. I rotate between the classes and they treat me as their honored guest. It’s quite fun.

Now, what do you remember of school lunches? Let me tell you, it’s nothing to lunch time in a Japanese elementary school. First, the kids themselves make the lunches in their cooking class, which I have yet to have a chance to visit to my disappointment. Then, a small group of students from each class carry all of the dishes and food to each classroom. There are few things more precious than seeing two little first grade kids dressed in their caps and aprons struggling to carry a bucket full of rice to their class. When they reach their classroom, they set up a small line and serve their classmates. Everyone waits until everyone is sitting down with food before beginning to eat. And these Japanese school children clean their plates, let me tell you. I have yet to see a kid not eat something.

It’s slightly embarrassing, as the first few days I ate with them, I couldn’t finish all of my meal. And I don’t think I was able to convince them that I really did like the food, I was just too full to finish it. I have since learned how to take back what I can’t eat before we start eating. And it is truly funny to see these little kids race back to the food line to grab the mostly rice that I put back.

I have to say that I thought I liked carbs before I came to Japan. I have since realized that I have nothing on these tiny little women and kids. They can eat more rice in one sitting than I can eat all day. It’s incredible. Lunches are usually a combination of soup, rice, salad, a maybe a piece of fish or chicken. Salads almost always feature pickled cucumber, which is kind of weird to be honest, though oddly enough, pretty good. Nobie says that isn't necessarily a Japanese thing in particular, but an example of the Japanese using what is in season and abundant in the area. Perhaps in the winter, I won't be able to find a pickled cucumber if my life depended on it. It's all about the area and the season. Anyway, one day we had a salad or slaw of pickled cucumber, sliced onion, and boiled octopus. Not bad. The soups are almost always a broth with vegetables and tofu, occasionally adding chicken or pork. The other day we had the most delicious egg drop soup I’ve ever had and I made Nobie promise to teach me how to make it.

Other than the school lunches, I do have a few new food experiences to share. Last Monday and Tuesday, some friends of Stewart and Nobie were visiting the are with some of their friends – two American couples and an Indian couple – so both nights we went out to eat. The first night, we went to a Yakitori restaurant where I tried basashi. I hinted at this in my last post, and if any other you looked it up: yes, it really is raw horseflesh. It’s considered a Kumamoto specialty and is usually served, as it was here, as sashimi with a spicy ginger and onion soy sauce. Not only did I eat it and enjoy it, but I would seriously consider ordering it again.

The next night, we went to a restaurant featuring more of an international menu. We had German style sausages, California style pizza, and Mediterranean style squid. It was all delicious. And the intelligent, adult conversation was a welcome relief from eating lunch with young children that I can barely communicate with.

Coming soon – They’re letting me loose on the open road. Watch out Kumamoto.

- Jenny