As I'm typing this, I am bound for Tokyo. Buses, streetcars, trains, and airplanes all play a part in my journey towards Japan's capital city. Why am I headed to Tokyo? Well, I'll tell you. After this quick commercial break...
Daddy's coming! Daddy's coming!
I heartily apologize to all of my readers for any terror-filled childhood flashbacks those words might have induced, but I'm excited! It took a bit of work, but my Dad was finally convinced that he should come see Japan while I was here to show him around. He had to come quick, I won't be in Japan much longer. That's right. I'm returning to the States at the end of the month, so start preparing.
It's funny that whenever the subject of my return to America has come up, practically all of my acquaintances here in Japan have said the same thing, "But you've only been here a year!" Disbelief sounds in their voices as if they were saying, "But you've only been here a few days!" A year is a fair amount of time to spend in a country, I think. That's certainly not to say that I've seen or learnt all Japan has to offer. On the contrary. There's much that I've not experienced and I hope to return someday to see a few of the things I have missed. But though I was open to anything that came my way, I never had much expectation to stay in Japan for longer than a year. I've truly enjoyed my time here, but I miss my friends and family. I miss America and I want to return. But not quite yet. I do have a few more things to do before I leave the Land of the Rising Sun. Most importantly, I am super excited to show this amazing country to my Dad.
To experience as much of Japan as we could on a limited budget and timetable, Nobie suggested that we buy a rail pass that would allow us to travel anywhere we want for 7 days for a pretty inexpensive price. That sounded perfect and I planned our travels accordingly. Then, a few months ago, it was brought to my attention by a fellow ALT that the JR rail pass is only available to people with a temporary visitor visa and with my work visa, I wasn't eligible. And so began a long, drawn out, hair-pulling process to figure out how I could purchase the pass despite this ridiculous proviso. I won't go into it too deeply, but to say that a few of my plans involved disguises, tears, and even a trip to Korea. Eventually, a friend of a friend suggested I go to the Immigration Office in Kumamoto and ask them to change my visa back to a temporary visitor after my job ended at the end of March and I no longer needed a work visa. Not quite as exciting as my plans, but a bit simpler and the one I ultimately decided to go with.
So, a few days ago I walked into the Immigration Office and requested to change my visa status. It took four Immigration officials, a few phone calls, and a bit more than an hour to work it out. At first, they couldn't understand why I needed to change my status when my work visa was good through the end of June. When I explained the rail pass, I don't think they believed me at first. One of the officials went to the JR website and another actually called JR to see if this restriction was really true. You know it's bad when even the bureaucrats are bemused at the absurdity of the Gordian Knot of Red Tape that they themselves have constructed. The sword finally sliced through and I can travel without impunity once again.
And speaking of traveling, we're back to my trip to Tokyo. It will be mid-evening when I finally arrive at my hotel in Tokyo. Dad flies in the next day and we will be spending about a week and a half traveling through Tokyo, Kyoto, Osaka, and Hiroshima before finally arriving in Kumamoto where we'll spend another week and then fly back to Kansas together.
As you can imagine, I'll probably be back in America before I post any more significant updates to this blog. But please stay tuned because I'm sure I'll have many interesting stories to tell of our journeys and tons of pictures to show.
Daddy is coming! Daddy is coming!
Album currently playing on my IPOD - Tracy Chapman's 1988 eponymous album. My Dad, always ahead of the curve, introduced me to this amazing singer-songwriter almost 8 years before all of my friends were singing along to her songs on the radio.
- Jenny
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
The Song Remains The Same
My final day at school had arrived and as I drove onto the parking lot, I was shocked to find the entire lot empty. Wasn't there to be school that day? Had I been misinformed? As I sat in my car for a moment contemplating whether I should enter the building to see if I could find anyone or if I should call my OWLS advisor to see if I had misunderstood my schedule, I watched through the windows a few teachers walking down the hallway. Another few moments passed and I saw a couple of students following. Relieved, I entered the school only to find everyone in frantic preparation for graduation. Apparently, all of the teachers had parked in a nearby field to allow room for the families of the graduates.
Though I knew the 6th grade graduations for all of my schools were imminent, I wasn't aware that they were going to be held that day. And as I saw all of the teachers dressed in their Sunday's finest (a rather inappropriate expression I suppose, considering the culture), I was happy that I happened to have dressed that morning in some of my most conservative clothes; though had I known, I certainly would have worn my suit. I was amused to note that most of the men wore white ties as during one of my training sessions at OWLS, the men were warned that it was inappropriate to wear black ties for any happy event like a wedding or graduation, but that they were more suited for solemn occasions. Given that, I was surprised to see that other than white neckties on the men, black was easily the predominant color of everyone's clothing. All of men and a great majority of the women were dressed in black suits with many of the women also wearing black tops. With the kids in their navy blue suits, the gathering resembled something more like a funeral to my eyes.
Though I had remembered the grab my camera that morning with vague hopes of documenting my last day, my luck held true and as soon as I turned it on, the batteries died. So, unfortunately I don't have any pictures of the graduation, though I have to say that I'm not sure I would have felt very comfortable taking any pictures anyway. Japanese graduations are nothing like American ones. Throughout the ceremony I was reminded of a Catholic mass - it was held in a language I didn't understand with elaborate choreography that everyone else appeared to instinctually know, and with a solemnity that I doubt any American crowd could achieve at such a happy occasion. The only times the audience showed any kind of approval was with controlled applause when the graduates entered and later exited. Other than those two times, the entire crowd was silently attentive, even the little kids.
Sidenote: Speaking of the entrance and exit of the graduates, their musical accompaniment was Pachebel's 'Canon in D.' And later as they received their diplomas, another familiar classical piece was playing softly in the background. And for some reason that tickled me. It's certainly not the first time I've heard classical music - Beethoven, Mozart, Chopin - played in the schools and it always amuses me. I realize that it's ridiculous to think of these pieces of music written by someone over 200 years ago who no more spoke English than I speak Japanese as somehow more part of my culture than of this culture, but I have to admit that I kinda do. I don't know why.
And now back to our regularly scheduled program: As the ceremony began, I amused myself by counting how many times people bowed. I stopped after about twenty minutes into the ceremony at bow number 100. That's about 5 bows a minute. The graduation lasted an hour and a half. Do the math. Though, I have to be honest that the first part of the graduation was a bit bow heavy with the dispensation of diplomas while the last half was filled with speeches and songs and didn't have quite so much bowing. We had speeches from the principle, from a representative from the Board of Education, from the president of the PTA (which to my amusement, they do call the PTA and in actuality appears to consist mostly of grandparents rather than parents), a speech from a gentleman chosen to represent the graduate's parents, and one from a woman that I never did quite work out who she was. Even the younger grades were given their chance to speak, and trust me, you haven't truly lived until you have seen and heard 60 to 70 first graders flawlessly delivering a synchronized speech. It was only a few sentences, but impressive nonetheless.
Afterwards, there was about twenty minutes of people bowing to each other as we shuffled out of the gymnasium. The graduates and their parents retreated to a special picnic that only they were allowed to attend. The younger children raced away to enjoy their half day off from school. And I said my final goodbyes to my co-workers and to the school. It feels like the year went by so quickly.
Album(s) currently playing on my IPOD - Yes' 1973 Tales from Topographic Oceans and The Decemberists' 2009 The Hazards of Love. I read a review of The Decemberists' most recent album that called it, somewhat ambivalently, the group's answer to Yes' 1973 concept album. So I figured it only made sense to re-listen to Tales to before I checked out The Hazards of Love and I discovered that for me, Yes albums play much the same role as Proust's madeleines. Suddenly, I was back in the living room of the house I grew up in with my Dad sitting in his chair reading while I did my homework. It was such a comforting sense memory.
But back to the music. I understand what the critic was trying to say, however I find the Decemberists conceptual execution closer to Pink Floyd's 1979 The Wall. In the end, I have to say that I enjoy The Hazards of Love. The Decemberists are often be tagged as hyper-literary and pretentious, and I'm not going to argue strenuously that they're not. But unlike my high school English teacher, I don't mind looking up words I don't know and if given the choice, I'd rather err on the side of pretension than on the side of 'If You Seek Amy.' 5 points for the gratuitous Britney Spears reference, score!
- Jenny
Though I knew the 6th grade graduations for all of my schools were imminent, I wasn't aware that they were going to be held that day. And as I saw all of the teachers dressed in their Sunday's finest (a rather inappropriate expression I suppose, considering the culture), I was happy that I happened to have dressed that morning in some of my most conservative clothes; though had I known, I certainly would have worn my suit. I was amused to note that most of the men wore white ties as during one of my training sessions at OWLS, the men were warned that it was inappropriate to wear black ties for any happy event like a wedding or graduation, but that they were more suited for solemn occasions. Given that, I was surprised to see that other than white neckties on the men, black was easily the predominant color of everyone's clothing. All of men and a great majority of the women were dressed in black suits with many of the women also wearing black tops. With the kids in their navy blue suits, the gathering resembled something more like a funeral to my eyes.
Though I had remembered the grab my camera that morning with vague hopes of documenting my last day, my luck held true and as soon as I turned it on, the batteries died. So, unfortunately I don't have any pictures of the graduation, though I have to say that I'm not sure I would have felt very comfortable taking any pictures anyway. Japanese graduations are nothing like American ones. Throughout the ceremony I was reminded of a Catholic mass - it was held in a language I didn't understand with elaborate choreography that everyone else appeared to instinctually know, and with a solemnity that I doubt any American crowd could achieve at such a happy occasion. The only times the audience showed any kind of approval was with controlled applause when the graduates entered and later exited. Other than those two times, the entire crowd was silently attentive, even the little kids.
Sidenote: Speaking of the entrance and exit of the graduates, their musical accompaniment was Pachebel's 'Canon in D.' And later as they received their diplomas, another familiar classical piece was playing softly in the background. And for some reason that tickled me. It's certainly not the first time I've heard classical music - Beethoven, Mozart, Chopin - played in the schools and it always amuses me. I realize that it's ridiculous to think of these pieces of music written by someone over 200 years ago who no more spoke English than I speak Japanese as somehow more part of my culture than of this culture, but I have to admit that I kinda do. I don't know why.
And now back to our regularly scheduled program: As the ceremony began, I amused myself by counting how many times people bowed. I stopped after about twenty minutes into the ceremony at bow number 100. That's about 5 bows a minute. The graduation lasted an hour and a half. Do the math. Though, I have to be honest that the first part of the graduation was a bit bow heavy with the dispensation of diplomas while the last half was filled with speeches and songs and didn't have quite so much bowing. We had speeches from the principle, from a representative from the Board of Education, from the president of the PTA (which to my amusement, they do call the PTA and in actuality appears to consist mostly of grandparents rather than parents), a speech from a gentleman chosen to represent the graduate's parents, and one from a woman that I never did quite work out who she was. Even the younger grades were given their chance to speak, and trust me, you haven't truly lived until you have seen and heard 60 to 70 first graders flawlessly delivering a synchronized speech. It was only a few sentences, but impressive nonetheless.
Afterwards, there was about twenty minutes of people bowing to each other as we shuffled out of the gymnasium. The graduates and their parents retreated to a special picnic that only they were allowed to attend. The younger children raced away to enjoy their half day off from school. And I said my final goodbyes to my co-workers and to the school. It feels like the year went by so quickly.
Album(s) currently playing on my IPOD - Yes' 1973 Tales from Topographic Oceans and The Decemberists' 2009 The Hazards of Love. I read a review of The Decemberists' most recent album that called it, somewhat ambivalently, the group's answer to Yes' 1973 concept album. So I figured it only made sense to re-listen to Tales to before I checked out The Hazards of Love and I discovered that for me, Yes albums play much the same role as Proust's madeleines. Suddenly, I was back in the living room of the house I grew up in with my Dad sitting in his chair reading while I did my homework. It was such a comforting sense memory.
But back to the music. I understand what the critic was trying to say, however I find the Decemberists conceptual execution closer to Pink Floyd's 1979 The Wall. In the end, I have to say that I enjoy The Hazards of Love. The Decemberists are often be tagged as hyper-literary and pretentious, and I'm not going to argue strenuously that they're not. But unlike my high school English teacher, I don't mind looking up words I don't know and if given the choice, I'd rather err on the side of pretension than on the side of 'If You Seek Amy.' 5 points for the gratuitous Britney Spears reference, score!
- Jenny
Saturday, March 21, 2009
America's Favorite Pastime?
Did you know that right at this very moment hundreds of millions of people all across the world are tuned in on their radios and televisions to watch a major sporting event? And no, I'm not talking about NCAA men's basketball tournament. As my March Madness bracket begins to sink to the bottom of my pool, all of my neighbors, co-workers, and students are anxiously watching the Japan national team in the WBC.
The WBC? My mind was drawing a blank when Stewart first mentioned over dinner last weekend. The Women's Basketball Championship? The Women's Bowling Challenge? I was pretty sure it was Women's something. As my facial expression no doubt matched my mind, Stewart helpfully supplied an explanation. I was wrong. It's the World Baseball Classic.
The World Baseball Classic. It's the Baseball World Cup basically. It happens every four years and countries from all over the world participate. Did you even know something like this existed? Now, I don't claim to be the average American sports fan. I like to believe that I'm not the average anything. However, I do feel fairly confident that most Americans join me in my ignorance of the WBC, a fact that shocks and dismays most Japanese. This appears to be as big, if not bigger, than the Olympics. During recess and break periods, fifth and sixth year students have been begging to enter the teacher's room to watch the games on the television. It was even the main topic of discussion during my lunch with a second grade class. I had all of these 7-year-olds talking to me so earnestly about the Japanese team and I think even doing a little bit of trash talking about the upcoming Japan v. USA game. Well, we'll just see.
Album currently playing on my IPOD - Beck's 2008 Modern Guilt.
- Jenny
The WBC? My mind was drawing a blank when Stewart first mentioned over dinner last weekend. The Women's Basketball Championship? The Women's Bowling Challenge? I was pretty sure it was Women's something. As my facial expression no doubt matched my mind, Stewart helpfully supplied an explanation. I was wrong. It's the World Baseball Classic.
The World Baseball Classic. It's the Baseball World Cup basically. It happens every four years and countries from all over the world participate. Did you even know something like this existed? Now, I don't claim to be the average American sports fan. I like to believe that I'm not the average anything. However, I do feel fairly confident that most Americans join me in my ignorance of the WBC, a fact that shocks and dismays most Japanese. This appears to be as big, if not bigger, than the Olympics. During recess and break periods, fifth and sixth year students have been begging to enter the teacher's room to watch the games on the television. It was even the main topic of discussion during my lunch with a second grade class. I had all of these 7-year-olds talking to me so earnestly about the Japanese team and I think even doing a little bit of trash talking about the upcoming Japan v. USA game. Well, we'll just see.
Album currently playing on my IPOD - Beck's 2008 Modern Guilt.
- Jenny
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Food Fight!
We've headed into this twilight days of the school year, which of course, means assemblies, events, and other special to-dos. Everyday my class schedule is tweaked: a change in class location, in class time, sometimes even the cancellation of a class.
Last week at Shichijo Sho Gakku, we had a school picnic. I was informed a few days earlier and was told to wear comfortable, casual clothes and to bring a hat and bento. Bento is basically the japanese version of a sack lunch. I considered going to the nearest Hirai Bento store of which there are practically one per block in Kumamoto and simply buying a pre-made bento, but decided that one of my goals as an ALT is to expose the students to a different culture, so instead I went to the grocery store and began to construct my own American style bento. To truly show a traditional American style sack lunch, I should have packed a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Just the thought of such an absurd combination is enough to send most Japanese children into a fit of giggles. Unfortunately, I don't like peanut butter, so that was out of the question. Instead, I had packed some sliced canadian bacon, Ritz crackers, apple slices, and two types of cheeses, camembert and aged gouda.
Of course, the day of the picnic began overcast and drizzling. And given the fact that about a 1/5 of the kids had influenza, the principle made the command decision to move the picnic indoors to the gymnasium. I sat with the 4th graders and watched as they all retrieved the small handkerchief wrapped bento boxes from their backpacks. ( For a better idea of what I mean, check out http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Home_made_Bento.jpg) They were already reaching for their chopsticks when I opened my sack lunch and the chopsticks were suspended mid air as they watched with fascination as I revealed my lunch. The kids thought my sandwiches made of crackers, bacon, and camembert were ingenious. But, it was the sight of me eating slices of apple and gouda cheese that sent them into hysterics.
Their own lunches consisted of rice - every child had rice of some kind in their bento, some small meat or fish- usually a very, very small piece of chicken, meatball, or small shrimp, and some fruit - most popular was strawberries as they are in season. Also found in the bentos were various forms of pickled vegetables. And unlike any American child's sack lunch, there was not a sweet to be seen.
We all had a nice time and thankfully I had brought enough crackers to share with the small circle of 4th grade girls I was sitting with. Afterwards, we all played dodgebee, a combination of dodgeball and frisbee and a favorite of all of my students. Alas, we never had the food fight I was so hoping for yet unfortunately unable to start myself in my position of authority.
Album currently playing on my IPOD - The Band's 1978 The Last Waltz. An amazing album and an even better movie. The documentary recording of The Band's 1976 Thanksgiving farewell concert, directed by Martin Scorsese, is perhaps the greatest concert film ever made.
Current reading material - In celebration of St. Patrick's Day, since I refuse to wear green and I abstain from all alcohol on this day, I have been reading poems by one of Ireland's favorite sons, W.B. Yeats. You can check some of them out at http://www.poetryfoundation.org/archive/poet.html?id=7597. While "The Second Coming" is a sentimental, if cliche, favorite of mine; it is "The Lake Isle of Innisfree" which has captured my imagination and fancy.
- Jenny
Last week at Shichijo Sho Gakku, we had a school picnic. I was informed a few days earlier and was told to wear comfortable, casual clothes and to bring a hat and bento. Bento is basically the japanese version of a sack lunch. I considered going to the nearest Hirai Bento store of which there are practically one per block in Kumamoto and simply buying a pre-made bento, but decided that one of my goals as an ALT is to expose the students to a different culture, so instead I went to the grocery store and began to construct my own American style bento. To truly show a traditional American style sack lunch, I should have packed a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Just the thought of such an absurd combination is enough to send most Japanese children into a fit of giggles. Unfortunately, I don't like peanut butter, so that was out of the question. Instead, I had packed some sliced canadian bacon, Ritz crackers, apple slices, and two types of cheeses, camembert and aged gouda.
Of course, the day of the picnic began overcast and drizzling. And given the fact that about a 1/5 of the kids had influenza, the principle made the command decision to move the picnic indoors to the gymnasium. I sat with the 4th graders and watched as they all retrieved the small handkerchief wrapped bento boxes from their backpacks. ( For a better idea of what I mean, check out http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Home_made_Bento.jpg) They were already reaching for their chopsticks when I opened my sack lunch and the chopsticks were suspended mid air as they watched with fascination as I revealed my lunch. The kids thought my sandwiches made of crackers, bacon, and camembert were ingenious. But, it was the sight of me eating slices of apple and gouda cheese that sent them into hysterics.
Their own lunches consisted of rice - every child had rice of some kind in their bento, some small meat or fish- usually a very, very small piece of chicken, meatball, or small shrimp, and some fruit - most popular was strawberries as they are in season. Also found in the bentos were various forms of pickled vegetables. And unlike any American child's sack lunch, there was not a sweet to be seen.
We all had a nice time and thankfully I had brought enough crackers to share with the small circle of 4th grade girls I was sitting with. Afterwards, we all played dodgebee, a combination of dodgeball and frisbee and a favorite of all of my students. Alas, we never had the food fight I was so hoping for yet unfortunately unable to start myself in my position of authority.
Album currently playing on my IPOD - The Band's 1978 The Last Waltz. An amazing album and an even better movie. The documentary recording of The Band's 1976 Thanksgiving farewell concert, directed by Martin Scorsese, is perhaps the greatest concert film ever made.
Current reading material - In celebration of St. Patrick's Day, since I refuse to wear green and I abstain from all alcohol on this day, I have been reading poems by one of Ireland's favorite sons, W.B. Yeats. You can check some of them out at http://www.poetryfoundation.org/archive/poet.html?id=7597. While "The Second Coming" is a sentimental, if cliche, favorite of mine; it is "The Lake Isle of Innisfree" which has captured my imagination and fancy.
- Jenny
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Shine On, You Crazy...
As I was on my daily walk yesterday, I passed a house and noticed a few articles of clothing hanging out to dry. One was a dark blue t-shirt with the words 'Silver butterflies go better with JESUS' printed on it in silver lettering. Indeed. Well, who am I to argue?
Another sign that caught my attention as I was walking down Shimotori last weekend was for a Thai restaurant named Cabbages and Condoms. No joke. I'm reminded of an urban legend I once heard... Well anyway, I've heard they have fantastic Thai food.
Album currently playing on my IPOD - Pink Floyd's 1975 Wish You Were Here.
- Jenny
Another sign that caught my attention as I was walking down Shimotori last weekend was for a Thai restaurant named Cabbages and Condoms. No joke. I'm reminded of an urban legend I once heard... Well anyway, I've heard they have fantastic Thai food.
Album currently playing on my IPOD - Pink Floyd's 1975 Wish You Were Here.
- Jenny
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Out of The Mouths of Babes
A few months ago, many of my students began the, at first disconcerting habit of shouting 'Yes, we can!" at random moments. Several would continue on with "Big Boss Obama!" to which a very few would counter with "Clinton!" Since then, "Yes, we can" has been fully integrated into my lessons. Instead of asking the students to stand up, sit down, play a game, etc., I ask, "Can we...?" Without pausing and in unison, the entire class will yell "Yes, we can!"
At first, I didn't understand the timing of this "Yes, we can!" outbreak, but I have since acquired a reasonable explanation. Recently, a set of books and tapes have come out using Pres. Obama's speeches as a teaching tool to teach English and they have become very popular here in Japan. No doubt, my students have picked up "Yes, we can" from their family or teachers who have purchased the books and tapes.
Obama started the election season fairly popular with the Japanese people as there is a town in Japan named 'Obama'. And his popularity has only risen since taking office with the attentions his administration has paid to Japan (Secretary Clinton's first official trip being to Japan and Pres. Obama's first White House invitation to a head of state to the Japanese Prime Minister Taro Aso). But like many Americans, it is Obama's public speaking that has primarily captured the attentions, both good and bad, of the Japanese people.
On one hand, the Japanese as a society place very little value on rhetoric. They embrace displays of emotion rather than eloquence. In fact, they tend to believe that if someone has the presence of mind to be eloquent, that person cannot feel deeply on which they are speaking. Therefore, the more eloquently one speaks on a subject, the less they must feel about that topic.
But, like many societies, that on which they scoff is often that at which they cannot do themselves and they find themselves jealous of those who can. And so, books and tapes of Obama's public speeches fly off the proverbial shelves beginning a process which ends with young elementary schoolchildren shout "Yes, we can!" to their American school teacher.
Another Americanism that my students have surprised me with is "I'm lovin' it." Several students had to say it a few times before I finally accepted that I was hearing them correctly. It wasn't until one said "Makudonaredo" which is how Japanese pronounce 'McDonald's' before my suspicions were confirmed. I do my best to ignore the sad commercialism represented by this phrase and instead celebrate the fact that they are speaking English.
Album(s) currently playing on my IPOD - David Bowie's 1971 Hunky Dory and Nirvana's 1994 MTV Unplugged in New York.
Current reading material - James Joyce's 1914 collection of short stories, Dubliners. Stewart once talked of reading a book on Norse mythology and being overcome with a feeling of "These are my people. This is where I come from." I understand what he means when I read Joyce's Dubliners. These are my people. This is where I come from. These are not happy stories, in fact many have a certain melancholy about them. But, there is a always a moment where a clarity is found. Often, that moment is brushed over and sometimes willfully ignored by the characters, but in that moment of clarity, I find great hope and in the honesty of Joyce's writing, I find great beauty.
- Jenny
At first, I didn't understand the timing of this "Yes, we can!" outbreak, but I have since acquired a reasonable explanation. Recently, a set of books and tapes have come out using Pres. Obama's speeches as a teaching tool to teach English and they have become very popular here in Japan. No doubt, my students have picked up "Yes, we can" from their family or teachers who have purchased the books and tapes.
Obama started the election season fairly popular with the Japanese people as there is a town in Japan named 'Obama'. And his popularity has only risen since taking office with the attentions his administration has paid to Japan (Secretary Clinton's first official trip being to Japan and Pres. Obama's first White House invitation to a head of state to the Japanese Prime Minister Taro Aso). But like many Americans, it is Obama's public speaking that has primarily captured the attentions, both good and bad, of the Japanese people.
On one hand, the Japanese as a society place very little value on rhetoric. They embrace displays of emotion rather than eloquence. In fact, they tend to believe that if someone has the presence of mind to be eloquent, that person cannot feel deeply on which they are speaking. Therefore, the more eloquently one speaks on a subject, the less they must feel about that topic.
But, like many societies, that on which they scoff is often that at which they cannot do themselves and they find themselves jealous of those who can. And so, books and tapes of Obama's public speeches fly off the proverbial shelves beginning a process which ends with young elementary schoolchildren shout "Yes, we can!" to their American school teacher.
Another Americanism that my students have surprised me with is "I'm lovin' it." Several students had to say it a few times before I finally accepted that I was hearing them correctly. It wasn't until one said "Makudonaredo" which is how Japanese pronounce 'McDonald's' before my suspicions were confirmed. I do my best to ignore the sad commercialism represented by this phrase and instead celebrate the fact that they are speaking English.
Album(s) currently playing on my IPOD - David Bowie's 1971 Hunky Dory and Nirvana's 1994 MTV Unplugged in New York.
Current reading material - James Joyce's 1914 collection of short stories, Dubliners. Stewart once talked of reading a book on Norse mythology and being overcome with a feeling of "These are my people. This is where I come from." I understand what he means when I read Joyce's Dubliners. These are my people. This is where I come from. These are not happy stories, in fact many have a certain melancholy about them. But, there is a always a moment where a clarity is found. Often, that moment is brushed over and sometimes willfully ignored by the characters, but in that moment of clarity, I find great hope and in the honesty of Joyce's writing, I find great beauty.
- Jenny
Thursday, February 19, 2009
And the Angels Sing...
... a new post has arrived.
A long, long time ago (about a month and a half) in a bed far, far away (Kumamoto, Japan), I awoke unusually early on New Year's Day.
My use of the phrase 'unusually early' is, of course, relative. Compared to my usual wake up time during a school week, it was rather late. Compared to my usual wake up time for a holiday or the weekend, it was only a little early. Compared to my usual wake up time for New Year's Day, it was unusually early.
Whereas Americans traditionally celebrate making it through one more year by participating in a night of debauchery on New Year's Eve before waking late the next day to begin the New Year with an earnest intent of improving and 'being good,' Japanese focus on the coming year by celebrating a series of 'firsts' on New Year's Day: Hatsuhinode - the first sunrise of the new year, hatsumode - the first visit to a shrine, and the completely unAmerican celebration of shigoto-hijame - the first work of the new year.
Anyway, I set my alarm early because I was invited for osechi-ryori by my neighbor, Endoh-san. Osechi-ryori, often shortened to osechi, is the traditional first meal of the new year and when many of my friends and acquaintances found out I had no plans for New Year's Day, they were dismayed at the thought that I would miss osechi or that I would eat it alone. However, osechi is a very special occasion for family and not something an outsider is casually invited to. Endoh-san, though, doesn't have family in the area and was happy to share her first meal with me.
The tradition of osechi-ryori started in the Heian Period (794 - 1185) and the dishes that compose this traditional meal haven't changed much since that time. So you can image how delicious it is. Arranged in special boxes called jubako, they are usually purchased already made and each food inside has a special meaning. They include:
Kamaboko - broiled fish paste. Colored red and white, the color and shape of the kamaboko are reminiscent of the rising sun, the traditional symbol of Japan.
Kazunoko - herring roe. The kanji for Kazunoko means numerous children and is basically a symbol of fertility.
Kondu - a kind of seaweed. Through odd connections in its kanji, this symbolizes joy in the New Year.
Kuro-mame - black soybeans. Mame also means "health" and this symbolizes a wish for health in the New Year. These are actually pretty good.
Daidai - Japanese bitter orange. The kanji for this fruit means "from generation to generation" and symbolizes a wish for children in the New Year. This is the most prominent symbol of the New Year and is found in almost all New Year Decorations and shrine offerings. These are also found year round in Japan and are delicious.
Boiled vegetables such as carrots cut into the shape of lotus blossoms symbolizing beauty and strength through adversity, mushrooms cut into hexagons reminiscent of a turtle's shell symbolizing long life, and bamboo shoots to represent renewal.
Our jubako also included shrimp, konnyaku, and sweet omelette; as well, as a Kumamoto specialty, lotus root boiled and covered in spicy mustard then fried. The lotus root with its pattern of holes circling one central hole is reminiscent of the symbol of the Hosokawa clan, the last and longest ruling clan of Kumamoto.
The final course of our osechi was ozoni, a soup with the mochi rice cakes that we made during mochitsuki. Though ozoni can be found on every family's osechi menu, the style of the soup can differ greatly. According to Wikipedia, a soup of clear broth is popular in eastern Japan (for Americans, that's anywhere north of Tokyo), while miso broth is traditional in western Japan (south of Tokyo). Endoh-san said that some regional styles included pork or beef; tofu and a variety of vegetables also can make an appearance in the ozoni. For our ozoni, Endoh-san said that she made it as her mother made it which was in the style that Endoh-san's father grew up with in a small town north between Tokyo and Kyoto. It was a very traditional miso broth with seaweed and mochi.
Osechi-ryori is not made of food alone, however. Just as important as the food we eat for the first meal of the New Year is what we drink. Now, I had brought a bottle of wine as a gift of appreciation to my hostess, but I had absolutely no intention of uncorking it for our meal. It was ten in the morning for heaven's sake!
We didn't drink the California red as it turns out. Apparently, it is traditional to begin the New Year by drinking sake. Much as Americans drink champagne on New Year's Eve as an indulgence or a reward for for the previous year, Japanese drink sake on New Year's Day as a hope or promise for the coming year. I sincerely believe that this difference in celebration reveals something profound regarding the Japanese versus American perspective, but I'm not quite sure what.
Anyway, when I arrived at Endoh-san's apartment, she had already opened a new bottle of sake and in the spirit of 'It's after five somewhere in the world,' I happily accepted my glass. Now, as I wrote previously, etiquette in Japan has it that you must fill your neighbor's glass and never your own. So, in the almost 3 hours that Endoh-san and I sat on the floor at her dining table, enjoyed the traditional foods of osechi and talked, we finished the bottle of sake. An indulgence, indeed!
Ito-san, the lady I sublet from, joined us around 1 pm after having osechi with her elderly parents. We all enjoyed a cup of green tea and some conversation before Ito-san and I left for hatsumode, our first visit to a shrine in the New Year, or I should say our first visit to shrines - plural - in the New Year.
First, we visited the Kato shrine at Kumamoto Castle. Though it was about 2 in the afternoon and pilgrimages to visit shrines begin at midnight on New Year's Day for many people, we still found a crowd of several hundred making their way to the shrine. Stands lined the entrance to the shrine selling all kinds of street food - takoyaki, grilled squid, and Japanese versions of hamburgers and hot dogs - as well as traditional shrine offerings. The most popular offering I noticed was a blunt arrow which Ito-san explained people would place in front of their family shrine at home which would protect the home and family from harm for the coming year. The arrow would remain for the entire year until next hatsumode where the family would purchase another arrow to replace it.
Our next stop was a small shrine just off Kamitori, which unlike the Kato shrine at Kumamoto Castle, is a good example of folk shinto. This shrine is dedicated to a politician of the early Meiji period who was disgraced in Edo - modern day Tokyo - and basically exiled to Kyushu where he became an honored scholar and poet. Today, this shrine is popular with artists and somewhat paradoxically, students eager to pray and make an offering the night before a big exam in hopes that it will help. There were no food stands here or people selling small charms and shrine offerings. And with only a handful of people visiting, this was both Ito-san's and my favorite shrine.
Finally, we walked the short distance to Fujisaki-gu Shrine, the seemingly opposite of the folk shrine we had just seen. The 'gu' at the end of Fujisaki-gu indicates that this shrine is a state shinto shrine. Not surprisingly, this was the most crowded shrine of the three and the one suffering from the most commercialization. And though I rolled my eyes at the commercial intrusion of this ancient religious rite, I do have to admit that I got some of the best fried potatoes I've ever had at one of the food stands there.
Well, after suffering the crowds for hatsumode, Ito-san and I returned to Endoh-san's apartment and rejoined her for hatsugama, the first tea ceremony of the New Year. To something of a surprise to me, the average Japanese person does not know a whole lot more about a traditional tea ceremony than I do. Ito-san and I were both novices to the practice. Thankfully, Endoh-san had taken classes and was fully prepared to walk us through.
Did you know that a traditional tea ceremony will last several hours and included a full meal? Our tea ceremony only lasted about an hour and was very relaxed. Endoh-san explained the purpose and symbolism of each step and told about all of the rules governing behavior at a tea ceremony. And there are a lot of rules: who can talk, who you can talk to, when you can talk, how to give and receive and from who you can give and receive. It's crazy and made me completely understand why someone would have to take several classes to learn and a lot of practice to master. The tea was delicious, however, and the sweets were good as well.
It was around seven o'clock when I finally returned home exhausted and ready for a good ole' American meal of popcorn and Coke.
Though the prospect of spending New Year's Day alone wasn't nearly as dreadful for me as it seemed to by Japanese friends, I was incredibly appreciative to Endoh-san and Ito-san for spending the day with me and sharing their fascinating customs.
Album(s) currently playing on my IPOD - Bob Dylan's 1966 Blonde on Blonde, Jeff Buckley's 1994 Grace, and Josh Ritter's 2002 Golden Age of Radio.
Current reading material - Julian Barnes' 1989 novel, A History of the World in 10 1/2 chapters. Slightly irreverant, incredibly witty, and curiously optimistic in the way that only a true cynic can be. I love it.
- Jenny
A long, long time ago (about a month and a half) in a bed far, far away (Kumamoto, Japan), I awoke unusually early on New Year's Day.
My use of the phrase 'unusually early' is, of course, relative. Compared to my usual wake up time during a school week, it was rather late. Compared to my usual wake up time for a holiday or the weekend, it was only a little early. Compared to my usual wake up time for New Year's Day, it was unusually early.
Whereas Americans traditionally celebrate making it through one more year by participating in a night of debauchery on New Year's Eve before waking late the next day to begin the New Year with an earnest intent of improving and 'being good,' Japanese focus on the coming year by celebrating a series of 'firsts' on New Year's Day: Hatsuhinode - the first sunrise of the new year, hatsumode - the first visit to a shrine, and the completely unAmerican celebration of shigoto-hijame - the first work of the new year.
Anyway, I set my alarm early because I was invited for osechi-ryori by my neighbor, Endoh-san. Osechi-ryori, often shortened to osechi, is the traditional first meal of the new year and when many of my friends and acquaintances found out I had no plans for New Year's Day, they were dismayed at the thought that I would miss osechi or that I would eat it alone. However, osechi is a very special occasion for family and not something an outsider is casually invited to. Endoh-san, though, doesn't have family in the area and was happy to share her first meal with me.
The tradition of osechi-ryori started in the Heian Period (794 - 1185) and the dishes that compose this traditional meal haven't changed much since that time. So you can image how delicious it is. Arranged in special boxes called jubako, they are usually purchased already made and each food inside has a special meaning. They include:
Kamaboko - broiled fish paste. Colored red and white, the color and shape of the kamaboko are reminiscent of the rising sun, the traditional symbol of Japan.
Kazunoko - herring roe. The kanji for Kazunoko means numerous children and is basically a symbol of fertility.
Kondu - a kind of seaweed. Through odd connections in its kanji, this symbolizes joy in the New Year.
Kuro-mame - black soybeans. Mame also means "health" and this symbolizes a wish for health in the New Year. These are actually pretty good.
Daidai - Japanese bitter orange. The kanji for this fruit means "from generation to generation" and symbolizes a wish for children in the New Year. This is the most prominent symbol of the New Year and is found in almost all New Year Decorations and shrine offerings. These are also found year round in Japan and are delicious.
Boiled vegetables such as carrots cut into the shape of lotus blossoms symbolizing beauty and strength through adversity, mushrooms cut into hexagons reminiscent of a turtle's shell symbolizing long life, and bamboo shoots to represent renewal.
Our jubako also included shrimp, konnyaku, and sweet omelette; as well, as a Kumamoto specialty, lotus root boiled and covered in spicy mustard then fried. The lotus root with its pattern of holes circling one central hole is reminiscent of the symbol of the Hosokawa clan, the last and longest ruling clan of Kumamoto.
The final course of our osechi was ozoni, a soup with the mochi rice cakes that we made during mochitsuki. Though ozoni can be found on every family's osechi menu, the style of the soup can differ greatly. According to Wikipedia, a soup of clear broth is popular in eastern Japan (for Americans, that's anywhere north of Tokyo), while miso broth is traditional in western Japan (south of Tokyo). Endoh-san said that some regional styles included pork or beef; tofu and a variety of vegetables also can make an appearance in the ozoni. For our ozoni, Endoh-san said that she made it as her mother made it which was in the style that Endoh-san's father grew up with in a small town north between Tokyo and Kyoto. It was a very traditional miso broth with seaweed and mochi.
Osechi-ryori is not made of food alone, however. Just as important as the food we eat for the first meal of the New Year is what we drink. Now, I had brought a bottle of wine as a gift of appreciation to my hostess, but I had absolutely no intention of uncorking it for our meal. It was ten in the morning for heaven's sake!
We didn't drink the California red as it turns out. Apparently, it is traditional to begin the New Year by drinking sake. Much as Americans drink champagne on New Year's Eve as an indulgence or a reward for for the previous year, Japanese drink sake on New Year's Day as a hope or promise for the coming year. I sincerely believe that this difference in celebration reveals something profound regarding the Japanese versus American perspective, but I'm not quite sure what.
Anyway, when I arrived at Endoh-san's apartment, she had already opened a new bottle of sake and in the spirit of 'It's after five somewhere in the world,' I happily accepted my glass. Now, as I wrote previously, etiquette in Japan has it that you must fill your neighbor's glass and never your own. So, in the almost 3 hours that Endoh-san and I sat on the floor at her dining table, enjoyed the traditional foods of osechi and talked, we finished the bottle of sake. An indulgence, indeed!
Ito-san, the lady I sublet from, joined us around 1 pm after having osechi with her elderly parents. We all enjoyed a cup of green tea and some conversation before Ito-san and I left for hatsumode, our first visit to a shrine in the New Year, or I should say our first visit to shrines - plural - in the New Year.
First, we visited the Kato shrine at Kumamoto Castle. Though it was about 2 in the afternoon and pilgrimages to visit shrines begin at midnight on New Year's Day for many people, we still found a crowd of several hundred making their way to the shrine. Stands lined the entrance to the shrine selling all kinds of street food - takoyaki, grilled squid, and Japanese versions of hamburgers and hot dogs - as well as traditional shrine offerings. The most popular offering I noticed was a blunt arrow which Ito-san explained people would place in front of their family shrine at home which would protect the home and family from harm for the coming year. The arrow would remain for the entire year until next hatsumode where the family would purchase another arrow to replace it.
Our next stop was a small shrine just off Kamitori, which unlike the Kato shrine at Kumamoto Castle, is a good example of folk shinto. This shrine is dedicated to a politician of the early Meiji period who was disgraced in Edo - modern day Tokyo - and basically exiled to Kyushu where he became an honored scholar and poet. Today, this shrine is popular with artists and somewhat paradoxically, students eager to pray and make an offering the night before a big exam in hopes that it will help. There were no food stands here or people selling small charms and shrine offerings. And with only a handful of people visiting, this was both Ito-san's and my favorite shrine.
Finally, we walked the short distance to Fujisaki-gu Shrine, the seemingly opposite of the folk shrine we had just seen. The 'gu' at the end of Fujisaki-gu indicates that this shrine is a state shinto shrine. Not surprisingly, this was the most crowded shrine of the three and the one suffering from the most commercialization. And though I rolled my eyes at the commercial intrusion of this ancient religious rite, I do have to admit that I got some of the best fried potatoes I've ever had at one of the food stands there.
Well, after suffering the crowds for hatsumode, Ito-san and I returned to Endoh-san's apartment and rejoined her for hatsugama, the first tea ceremony of the New Year. To something of a surprise to me, the average Japanese person does not know a whole lot more about a traditional tea ceremony than I do. Ito-san and I were both novices to the practice. Thankfully, Endoh-san had taken classes and was fully prepared to walk us through.
Did you know that a traditional tea ceremony will last several hours and included a full meal? Our tea ceremony only lasted about an hour and was very relaxed. Endoh-san explained the purpose and symbolism of each step and told about all of the rules governing behavior at a tea ceremony. And there are a lot of rules: who can talk, who you can talk to, when you can talk, how to give and receive and from who you can give and receive. It's crazy and made me completely understand why someone would have to take several classes to learn and a lot of practice to master. The tea was delicious, however, and the sweets were good as well.
It was around seven o'clock when I finally returned home exhausted and ready for a good ole' American meal of popcorn and Coke.
Though the prospect of spending New Year's Day alone wasn't nearly as dreadful for me as it seemed to by Japanese friends, I was incredibly appreciative to Endoh-san and Ito-san for spending the day with me and sharing their fascinating customs.
Album(s) currently playing on my IPOD - Bob Dylan's 1966 Blonde on Blonde, Jeff Buckley's 1994 Grace, and Josh Ritter's 2002 Golden Age of Radio.
Current reading material - Julian Barnes' 1989 novel, A History of the World in 10 1/2 chapters. Slightly irreverant, incredibly witty, and curiously optimistic in the way that only a true cynic can be. I love it.
- Jenny
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Down For Repairs
Sorry I haven't posted recently. Almost 2 weeks ago, my hard drive performed the task all hard drives are destined to perform. It crashed. It blowed up. I cried.
Since then, my attempt to first fix it - and when that proved not quite impossible, but rather improbable - then to purchase a new one, has become a veritable three-ring circus with me playing the role of bewildered ringmaster standing dazed in the center ring.
So, you'll have to wait just a bit longer to hear about my New Year. I know that y'all are quivering with anticipation. I promise, it will not live up to all of this hype ;)
- Jenny
Since then, my attempt to first fix it - and when that proved not quite impossible, but rather improbable - then to purchase a new one, has become a veritable three-ring circus with me playing the role of bewildered ringmaster standing dazed in the center ring.
So, you'll have to wait just a bit longer to hear about my New Year. I know that y'all are quivering with anticipation. I promise, it will not live up to all of this hype ;)
- Jenny
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Does There Seem To Be A Problem, Officer?
You know how your stomach drops to the floor the moment you see those flashing lights in your rearview mirror? That terrible mixture of shock, horror, anger, and fear rolling through your body in waves? I endured this torture for a little over 10 minutes this morning on my way to work.
Before my parents go into a enraged shock: NO, I was not running from the police.
To my dismay, on-duty police in Japan always ride with their lights flashing. If they need you to pull over, they sound the sirens. Despite knowing this, every time I’m driving and see the flashing lights, I immediately go into a terrified panic convinced that because they won’t understand me, they’ll somehow revoke my visa and throw me in jail. This panic lasts for about 1.5 seconds before I remember how it works here in Japan and realize that in any case, I’m being utterly ridiculous.
This morning was the worst, though. Waiting at the exit of a koban – these small police stations are located every 5 or 6 blocks in Kumamoto – was a police car with flashing lights. None of the 10 cars in front of me stopped to let them onto the road; so in a monkey say, monkey do approach, I calmly drove past as well and let them wait for the next available opening in traffic. Unfortunately, that opening came directly behind my car. So as soon as I passed, the police car with flashing red lights pulled out behind me and followed me for the next 5 kilometers.
It was horrible. I kept looking at the policemen in the rearview mirror, half expecting them to be gesturing angrily for me to pull aside. I could practically see them take my international driver’s permit, which is unfortunately made of paper, and tearing it in half while yelling at me with a lot of words that I didn’t understand. At every intersection, I chanted “Turn, turn, turn, turn…” When they finally did turn, a sense of relief that one so rarely feels in life came over me. I’ve made it one though more day without being thrown out of the country or instigating an international conflict. Well, maybe I shouldn’t say that. The day is young.
Album currently playing on my IPOD – Miles Davis’ 1970 masterpiece, Bitches Brew. A complete departure from the smooth modality of Davis’ 1959 Kind of Blue; Bitches Brew is not an easy album to listen to. It’s challenging and provocative. Put another way, it’s brilliant.
- Jenny
Before my parents go into a enraged shock: NO, I was not running from the police.
To my dismay, on-duty police in Japan always ride with their lights flashing. If they need you to pull over, they sound the sirens. Despite knowing this, every time I’m driving and see the flashing lights, I immediately go into a terrified panic convinced that because they won’t understand me, they’ll somehow revoke my visa and throw me in jail. This panic lasts for about 1.5 seconds before I remember how it works here in Japan and realize that in any case, I’m being utterly ridiculous.
This morning was the worst, though. Waiting at the exit of a koban – these small police stations are located every 5 or 6 blocks in Kumamoto – was a police car with flashing lights. None of the 10 cars in front of me stopped to let them onto the road; so in a monkey say, monkey do approach, I calmly drove past as well and let them wait for the next available opening in traffic. Unfortunately, that opening came directly behind my car. So as soon as I passed, the police car with flashing red lights pulled out behind me and followed me for the next 5 kilometers.
It was horrible. I kept looking at the policemen in the rearview mirror, half expecting them to be gesturing angrily for me to pull aside. I could practically see them take my international driver’s permit, which is unfortunately made of paper, and tearing it in half while yelling at me with a lot of words that I didn’t understand. At every intersection, I chanted “Turn, turn, turn, turn…” When they finally did turn, a sense of relief that one so rarely feels in life came over me. I’ve made it one though more day without being thrown out of the country or instigating an international conflict. Well, maybe I shouldn’t say that. The day is young.
Album currently playing on my IPOD – Miles Davis’ 1970 masterpiece, Bitches Brew. A complete departure from the smooth modality of Davis’ 1959 Kind of Blue; Bitches Brew is not an easy album to listen to. It’s challenging and provocative. Put another way, it’s brilliant.
- Jenny
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Tastes a Bit Like Glue, Actually
While my Christmas holiday was quiet and relaxing, my New Year’s was filled with traditional Japanese activities. A few days prior to the new year, the lady that I sublet from, Ito-san, flew into town to celebrate the holiday with her family and very graciously offered to sleep in the spare room allowing me to stay in the apartment during her stay. Though she was often out visiting her friends and family, I enjoyed having the opportunity to finally meet her face to face and get to know her better.
I may have mentioned before, Ito-san is a poet and translator who now lives in California with her Polish husband, a graphic artist, and her youngest daughter. As you would imagine, she’s well-traveled and very knowledgeable on a variety of subjects – a really fascinating person to talk to.
But back to the holidays, my New Year’s holiday began a couple days early on December 30th with the mochitsuki. Mochitsuki is a traditional mochi-pounding ceremony in Japan, most often performed for the New Year. Rice is soaked overnight and steamed, then kneaded and pounded into a sticky paste. To do this, two or three people use wooden mallets (kine) in a large mortar (usu) while another person occasionally turns and wets the mochi. Once it is fully beaten and reaches the right consistency, the sticky mass is quickly turned over to a person or group of people to form into different shapes, usually a flattened sphere. Sometimes, the mochi dumpling is filled with sweet bean paste (anko), then it is called daifuku. To get an idea of what mochi tastes like, imagine salt-water taffy, but without any flavoring or saltiness, and covered in flour. It’s not the best description, but about as close as I can come. It’s not my favorite Japanese food.
Mochitsuki is one of those traditions that is gradually becoming lost as urban areas grow larger and the rural areas shrink, but in my apartment building - a co-op - their goal is to recreate that smaller community setting. Therefore that Tuesday afternoon, the 40 or so residents and several of their friends gathered in the deck / patio area of the building to make mochi. They built three small fires using bamboo from the small woods behind the building: one for the rice steamer, one to heat water used in the kneading and pounding of the mochi, and one for a big pot of pork and vegetable soup to feed everyone. The weather was nice and sunny, the soup was delicious, and good time was had by all.
They made mochi for each of the families in the building, so they went through the process described above 14 times - once for each family, not including me. They put me to work once in shaping the mochi which was fun, and once in pounding the mochi with the kine which was a blast. It was also quite tiring and more than slightly nerve-wracking. Swinging this heavy wooden mallet along with two other guys and one guy occasionally reaching in to wet and turn the mochi, keeping the rhythm was incredibly important as you could imagine.
Pictures of my mochitsuki experience can be found on my Flickr site, http://www.flickr.com/photos/25083690@N03/sets/72157612803645309/
New Year’s Eve isn’t really as big of an event here in Japan as it is in the U.S. I hopped the bus downtown in the afternoon only to discover that many of the shops and smaller restaurants were closed. It reminded me of walking around downtown Pasadena after 4 pm on New Year’s Eve with all of the shops and restaurants closed and windows boarded up in preparation for the next day’s parade. Actually, it’s a lot like Christmas Eve in the U.S. Though there are some celebrations, the day is mostly spent in travel and preparation for the next day.
Anyway, though the downtown slightly resembled a ghost town, a few of the larger department stores were open as well as Tsutaya, the book store that has saved my sanity since I’ve come to Japan.
Side note: An American issue of Vogue magazine costs $21 here. Time Magazine is $17. And while the English book selection is fairly diverse, it’s pretty hit and miss. The only Hemingway they carry is The Sun Also Rises; the only Austen is Northanger Abbey; no Stephen King. But they do have the entire Gossip Girl series and all of Roald Dahl’s books. Go figure.
After perusing the books and picking up a couple new pens for school, I walked across the street to an Indian restaurant that one of my friends recommended. I’m new to Indian cuisine, but count me among converted. I am a fan. My meal of spice rubbed lamb cooked in a tandoor served with rice and garlic naan was amazing. I returned last weekend and had a terrific, if extremely spicy, seafood curry.
That evening, I relaxed with a glass of wine and a plate of cheese, crackers, and summer sausage that my parents had sent me for Christmas and watched a bit of the traditional year-end music countdown on television. This had been mentioned by many of my friends and co-workers, so I suppose it’s considered kind of the traditional thing to do on New Year’s Eve. It was interesting and I was kind of surprised how many of the songs I recognized from hearing them over the radio at lunch. After a bit though, I switched to the DVD player and watched Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead. Tom Stoppard is my hero.
Well, I was planning to finish New Year’s with this post, but it’s getting fairly long and I need to get this posted, so I suppose New Year’s Day will just have to wait.
Album(s) currently playing on my IPOD –In honor of the Presidential Inauguration, I have been listening to America (The Audiobook): A Citizen’s Guide to Democracy Inaction. A wonderful combination of wit and sarcasm, America (The Audiobook) works perfectly to temper the almost overwhelming sense of hope and optimism of Obama’s inauguration. Even if you’ve read the book, I highly suggest listening to the audiobook. The narration by Jon Stewart and the other Daily Show contributors give it a whole new snarky dimension.
In a slightly more conventional vein, Antonin Dvorak’s 1893 String Quartet No. 12 “American” has also found its way onto my playlist. Performed by the Smetana String Quartet, it’s beautiful.
Current reading material – I just finished reading Kurt Vonnegut’s 1997 novel / memoir, Timequake. I’ll confess, this is only the second Vonnegut novel I’ve read, not to mention a few of his short stories. That said, I consider him one of my favorite authors. His writing always seems so effortless. No matter if he is writing about becoming unstuck in time and traveling to the planet Tralfamadore or if he’s writing about his family, it never seems like he is laboring over the words. This is particularly interesting considering Vonnegut freely admits his struggle to write Timequake lasted almost 10 years only to realize that the finished product was crap. So, the novel published, Timequake, is parts of the original novel combined with personal observations and antidotes. It’s just hilarious and incredibly easy to read. I finished it in two sittings.
I may have mentioned before, Ito-san is a poet and translator who now lives in California with her Polish husband, a graphic artist, and her youngest daughter. As you would imagine, she’s well-traveled and very knowledgeable on a variety of subjects – a really fascinating person to talk to.
But back to the holidays, my New Year’s holiday began a couple days early on December 30th with the mochitsuki. Mochitsuki is a traditional mochi-pounding ceremony in Japan, most often performed for the New Year. Rice is soaked overnight and steamed, then kneaded and pounded into a sticky paste. To do this, two or three people use wooden mallets (kine) in a large mortar (usu) while another person occasionally turns and wets the mochi. Once it is fully beaten and reaches the right consistency, the sticky mass is quickly turned over to a person or group of people to form into different shapes, usually a flattened sphere. Sometimes, the mochi dumpling is filled with sweet bean paste (anko), then it is called daifuku. To get an idea of what mochi tastes like, imagine salt-water taffy, but without any flavoring or saltiness, and covered in flour. It’s not the best description, but about as close as I can come. It’s not my favorite Japanese food.
Mochitsuki is one of those traditions that is gradually becoming lost as urban areas grow larger and the rural areas shrink, but in my apartment building - a co-op - their goal is to recreate that smaller community setting. Therefore that Tuesday afternoon, the 40 or so residents and several of their friends gathered in the deck / patio area of the building to make mochi. They built three small fires using bamboo from the small woods behind the building: one for the rice steamer, one to heat water used in the kneading and pounding of the mochi, and one for a big pot of pork and vegetable soup to feed everyone. The weather was nice and sunny, the soup was delicious, and good time was had by all.
They made mochi for each of the families in the building, so they went through the process described above 14 times - once for each family, not including me. They put me to work once in shaping the mochi which was fun, and once in pounding the mochi with the kine which was a blast. It was also quite tiring and more than slightly nerve-wracking. Swinging this heavy wooden mallet along with two other guys and one guy occasionally reaching in to wet and turn the mochi, keeping the rhythm was incredibly important as you could imagine.
Pictures of my mochitsuki experience can be found on my Flickr site, http://www.flickr.com/photos/25083690@N03/sets/72157612803645309/
New Year’s Eve isn’t really as big of an event here in Japan as it is in the U.S. I hopped the bus downtown in the afternoon only to discover that many of the shops and smaller restaurants were closed. It reminded me of walking around downtown Pasadena after 4 pm on New Year’s Eve with all of the shops and restaurants closed and windows boarded up in preparation for the next day’s parade. Actually, it’s a lot like Christmas Eve in the U.S. Though there are some celebrations, the day is mostly spent in travel and preparation for the next day.
Anyway, though the downtown slightly resembled a ghost town, a few of the larger department stores were open as well as Tsutaya, the book store that has saved my sanity since I’ve come to Japan.
Side note: An American issue of Vogue magazine costs $21 here. Time Magazine is $17. And while the English book selection is fairly diverse, it’s pretty hit and miss. The only Hemingway they carry is The Sun Also Rises; the only Austen is Northanger Abbey; no Stephen King. But they do have the entire Gossip Girl series and all of Roald Dahl’s books. Go figure.
After perusing the books and picking up a couple new pens for school, I walked across the street to an Indian restaurant that one of my friends recommended. I’m new to Indian cuisine, but count me among converted. I am a fan. My meal of spice rubbed lamb cooked in a tandoor served with rice and garlic naan was amazing. I returned last weekend and had a terrific, if extremely spicy, seafood curry.
That evening, I relaxed with a glass of wine and a plate of cheese, crackers, and summer sausage that my parents had sent me for Christmas and watched a bit of the traditional year-end music countdown on television. This had been mentioned by many of my friends and co-workers, so I suppose it’s considered kind of the traditional thing to do on New Year’s Eve. It was interesting and I was kind of surprised how many of the songs I recognized from hearing them over the radio at lunch. After a bit though, I switched to the DVD player and watched Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead. Tom Stoppard is my hero.
Well, I was planning to finish New Year’s with this post, but it’s getting fairly long and I need to get this posted, so I suppose New Year’s Day will just have to wait.
Album(s) currently playing on my IPOD –In honor of the Presidential Inauguration, I have been listening to America (The Audiobook): A Citizen’s Guide to Democracy Inaction. A wonderful combination of wit and sarcasm, America (The Audiobook) works perfectly to temper the almost overwhelming sense of hope and optimism of Obama’s inauguration. Even if you’ve read the book, I highly suggest listening to the audiobook. The narration by Jon Stewart and the other Daily Show contributors give it a whole new snarky dimension.
In a slightly more conventional vein, Antonin Dvorak’s 1893 String Quartet No. 12 “American” has also found its way onto my playlist. Performed by the Smetana String Quartet, it’s beautiful.
Current reading material – I just finished reading Kurt Vonnegut’s 1997 novel / memoir, Timequake. I’ll confess, this is only the second Vonnegut novel I’ve read, not to mention a few of his short stories. That said, I consider him one of my favorite authors. His writing always seems so effortless. No matter if he is writing about becoming unstuck in time and traveling to the planet Tralfamadore or if he’s writing about his family, it never seems like he is laboring over the words. This is particularly interesting considering Vonnegut freely admits his struggle to write Timequake lasted almost 10 years only to realize that the finished product was crap. So, the novel published, Timequake, is parts of the original novel combined with personal observations and antidotes. It’s just hilarious and incredibly easy to read. I finished it in two sittings.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Christmastime in Japan
There is land called Procrastinationia and I am its Queen.
I have intended innumerable times to write for you all. I have dictated half a dozen entries in my head as I went about my day. But just as I am about to sit down and open Word to begin, I am distracted by a book… or a movie… or a beautiful day to take a walk… or even that exotic of all activities, cleaning.
Let’s not dwell on that though, shall we? I’m here, ready to tell you all about Japan during the holid- Oh, look! Something shiny…
As a joke, I was going to stop there and wait another day to post my real entry. Only I realized that because I have taken so long to update, you all have no doubt taken to only checking this blog once a month or so and the joke would be lost. My habit of procrastination ruins my joke about my habit of procrastination. Oh, the circle… it is vicious.
So, many of you have asked if Christmas is celebrated in Japan. The answer is… kinda. Christmas in Japan is celebrated much like St. Patrick’s Day is celebrated in the U.S. - completely divorced from any original religious and cultural meaning, and used as an excuse to hang garish decorations, give little children candy and trinkets, and go out with friends and drink until you can’t remember your name.
My Christmas in Japan started the Saturday evening prior at my apartment building’s Christmas party. I had received a wonderful invitation – all photo-shopped with Christmas banners and Santa Claus graphics – to the annual party which this year would feature a classical guitar concert followed by a potluck dinner and BINGO. It wasn’t until a few days later that I realized the invitation was entirely in English and had been made specifically for me.
The concert was wonderful. The guitarist, Shiochi Ishibara, played a 12 string guitar mostly, and a regular 6 string for the occasional song. He was accompanied by another man playing just about every type of percussion you can think of. There was even a fairly small gong used at the end of one song. They played mostly classical music, but also John Lennon’s ‘Imagine’ which was quite poignant.
It was a very special moment for me as I listened to the beautiful sounds of the guitar, my mind supplying Lennon’s lyrics about his dream of one world, and looking around the room to these people who despite my complete inability to converse with many of them, had welcomed me with such friendliness. Despite my slight irritation at the way the Japanese had seemingly stripped Christmas of all religious meaning; at that moment, I realized that the spirit of Christmas still remained. Joy to all and peace on Earth.
The concert ended with a sing along to ‘Silent Night,’ and my heart about stopped when after a few rounds of the song, Shiochi-san called out “Now, English.” Fortunately, a few of the other residents sang with me and we received a rousing round of applause before one final round in Japanese.
After the concert, tables were quickly assembled and the residents began returning from their apartments with dish after dish after tray of meats, vegetables, salads, and soups. My snickerdoodle cookies seemed to go over quite well. And after numerous toasts; many dedicated to a newly married couple that were seated near me and which contained several good natured jabs at the 20-year age difference and other risqué matters if I read the bride’s blushes and men’s’ laughter correctly; we played BINGO. Now, I may not speak Japanese fluently or even anywhere in the vicinity of fluency, but I do pride myself on knowing my numbers. Unfortunately, when the numbers are being announced by two pre-teen girls in what can kindly be called a brisk pace, I occasionally got a bit lost. I should perhaps not forget to mention the couple of glasses of beer and shochu I had had by this time that no doubt played a part. Luckily, the two very nice gentlemen sitting to either side of me made sure that I didn’t miss anything and I was calling out ‘BINGO!’ in no time.
One of the funnier moments of the evening occurred as I was talking with the aforementioned gentlemen about their work, architecture, which has occasionally taken them to the States. Both men spoke English fairly well and I had to laugh when after the younger gentlemen finished speaking, the older gentlemen turned to me and said half-jokingly, “I have some difficulty understanding your English, but I understand his English perfectly. You should work on your pronunciation.”
This was not the end of my party circuit, however, as a few nights later, I met with my co-workers from Shichijo Elementary School at a great little restaurant in Kumamoto for their annual ‘Christmas / Year End Party.’ I didn’t ask for fear of sounding egotistical, but I think the Christmas bit was added simply as a nice gesture for me. The food was delicious – we had a variety of dishes, but the centerpiece of the meal was a spicy Korean soup with all kinds of vegetables and pork – and company was very nice. I had a good time seeing my co-workers outside of school and getting to know them a bit better. However, this was certainly a ‘company holiday party’ and I was accordingly anxious about the whole thing for reasons wholly different than you think, though you would be correct to think they are alcohol related.
In my experience, in the States, company holiday parties are generally regarded as an opportunity to gather embarrassing information and stories about your co-workers when they’ve drank a bit too much and to use that information to shame and blackmail them throughout the rest of the year. Good times.
In Japan, there is no shame or embarrassment regarding things done or said when one is drunk. Not only that, but apparently the Japanese as a society practice something similar to collective amnesia when it comes to what others do or say while intoxicated. Tell a ribald and frankly insulting joke about the boss’s wife to a group that includes your boss? As long as you are drunk, no worries. The boss can’t get mad and the next day everyone will pretend it didn’t happen.
And not only is there no shame in getting drunk at the company holiday party, it’s actually a little insulting to your co-workers and especially to your boss if you don’t drink and keep up with the rest of them. Now, there were certainly a few of my co-workers that were driving and therefore didn’t drink and no one held that against them. But, by and large, when the boss asks if you would like a drink, you answer ‘Yes, please.’
So as an American, it’s razor’s edge to walk. I want to drink enough to be sociable and not insult my superiors, but I also cringe at the idea of getting drunk, especially in front of others, and especially in front of my co-workers. And just to make things a bit more difficult, it is the culture here not to fill your own glass, but to fill your neighbor’s and they will fill yours. So, it’s difficult to keep track of how much you’ve drank because your glass keeps getting refilled before you can finish it, and I was sitting across from my kocho-sensei - Principal – so he was the one to keep refilling my glass.
I ended up drinking a bit more than I’d wished, but not too much to do or say anything silly. A few of my co-workers, on the other hand… As I said, they were a lot of fun and I had a great time seeing a different side to these people that I work with. However, I occasionally pictured my own elementary school teachers in their place; and that is mental image that I find both amusing and slightly horrifying. Go ahead. Try it. You want to both laugh and scrub your brain out with bleach, right? Me, too.
Christmas Day was quiet. My family had all gathered for Christmas Eve back in Kansas and I was able to talk to them all on the phone and wish everyone a Happy Christmas. Afterwards, I took a nice walk along the bank of the Tsuboi River before coming home to spend the rest of the day cuddled up with a blanket, some homemade vegetable soup, and movies that my parents had sent. It was a nice day.
Album currently playing on my IPOD – Fleet Foxes 2008 self-titled album. Hands down, my favorite album of the year. Recalling the sounds of the Beach Boys and CSN&Y, these guys are amazing. Check out their official music video for ‘White Winter Hymnal’ on YouTube - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DrQRS40OKNE
Also on my IPOD queue – She and Him’s 2008 album, Volume One. Like many others, when I hear that an actor is putting out an album, I roll my eyes and unfairly judge them before I even hear a note. That said, I can’t help but like this duo which features the singing and songwriting of Zooey Deschanel. I admit, her lyrics can be a bit amateurish and her voice while perfectly serviceable, is certainly not remarkable. And yet, this album is a lot of fun and even a bit addictive. It’s an odd recommendation I admit, but a recommendation nonetheless.
Current reading material – I just finished reading the 1986 graphic novel, Watchmen, written by Alan Moore and illustrated by Dave Gibbons. I’ve never read a graphic novel before, and really only read this one at the urge of my Dad, but I’ve got to admit that I’m impressed. The illustrations are amazing, but more importantly to me, the story is constructed and told brilliantly. I’m now super excited to see the movie version when it comes out in a few months.
- Jenny
I have intended innumerable times to write for you all. I have dictated half a dozen entries in my head as I went about my day. But just as I am about to sit down and open Word to begin, I am distracted by a book… or a movie… or a beautiful day to take a walk… or even that exotic of all activities, cleaning.
Let’s not dwell on that though, shall we? I’m here, ready to tell you all about Japan during the holid- Oh, look! Something shiny…
As a joke, I was going to stop there and wait another day to post my real entry. Only I realized that because I have taken so long to update, you all have no doubt taken to only checking this blog once a month or so and the joke would be lost. My habit of procrastination ruins my joke about my habit of procrastination. Oh, the circle… it is vicious.
So, many of you have asked if Christmas is celebrated in Japan. The answer is… kinda. Christmas in Japan is celebrated much like St. Patrick’s Day is celebrated in the U.S. - completely divorced from any original religious and cultural meaning, and used as an excuse to hang garish decorations, give little children candy and trinkets, and go out with friends and drink until you can’t remember your name.
My Christmas in Japan started the Saturday evening prior at my apartment building’s Christmas party. I had received a wonderful invitation – all photo-shopped with Christmas banners and Santa Claus graphics – to the annual party which this year would feature a classical guitar concert followed by a potluck dinner and BINGO. It wasn’t until a few days later that I realized the invitation was entirely in English and had been made specifically for me.
The concert was wonderful. The guitarist, Shiochi Ishibara, played a 12 string guitar mostly, and a regular 6 string for the occasional song. He was accompanied by another man playing just about every type of percussion you can think of. There was even a fairly small gong used at the end of one song. They played mostly classical music, but also John Lennon’s ‘Imagine’ which was quite poignant.
It was a very special moment for me as I listened to the beautiful sounds of the guitar, my mind supplying Lennon’s lyrics about his dream of one world, and looking around the room to these people who despite my complete inability to converse with many of them, had welcomed me with such friendliness. Despite my slight irritation at the way the Japanese had seemingly stripped Christmas of all religious meaning; at that moment, I realized that the spirit of Christmas still remained. Joy to all and peace on Earth.
The concert ended with a sing along to ‘Silent Night,’ and my heart about stopped when after a few rounds of the song, Shiochi-san called out “Now, English.” Fortunately, a few of the other residents sang with me and we received a rousing round of applause before one final round in Japanese.
After the concert, tables were quickly assembled and the residents began returning from their apartments with dish after dish after tray of meats, vegetables, salads, and soups. My snickerdoodle cookies seemed to go over quite well. And after numerous toasts; many dedicated to a newly married couple that were seated near me and which contained several good natured jabs at the 20-year age difference and other risqué matters if I read the bride’s blushes and men’s’ laughter correctly; we played BINGO. Now, I may not speak Japanese fluently or even anywhere in the vicinity of fluency, but I do pride myself on knowing my numbers. Unfortunately, when the numbers are being announced by two pre-teen girls in what can kindly be called a brisk pace, I occasionally got a bit lost. I should perhaps not forget to mention the couple of glasses of beer and shochu I had had by this time that no doubt played a part. Luckily, the two very nice gentlemen sitting to either side of me made sure that I didn’t miss anything and I was calling out ‘BINGO!’ in no time.
One of the funnier moments of the evening occurred as I was talking with the aforementioned gentlemen about their work, architecture, which has occasionally taken them to the States. Both men spoke English fairly well and I had to laugh when after the younger gentlemen finished speaking, the older gentlemen turned to me and said half-jokingly, “I have some difficulty understanding your English, but I understand his English perfectly. You should work on your pronunciation.”
This was not the end of my party circuit, however, as a few nights later, I met with my co-workers from Shichijo Elementary School at a great little restaurant in Kumamoto for their annual ‘Christmas / Year End Party.’ I didn’t ask for fear of sounding egotistical, but I think the Christmas bit was added simply as a nice gesture for me. The food was delicious – we had a variety of dishes, but the centerpiece of the meal was a spicy Korean soup with all kinds of vegetables and pork – and company was very nice. I had a good time seeing my co-workers outside of school and getting to know them a bit better. However, this was certainly a ‘company holiday party’ and I was accordingly anxious about the whole thing for reasons wholly different than you think, though you would be correct to think they are alcohol related.
In my experience, in the States, company holiday parties are generally regarded as an opportunity to gather embarrassing information and stories about your co-workers when they’ve drank a bit too much and to use that information to shame and blackmail them throughout the rest of the year. Good times.
In Japan, there is no shame or embarrassment regarding things done or said when one is drunk. Not only that, but apparently the Japanese as a society practice something similar to collective amnesia when it comes to what others do or say while intoxicated. Tell a ribald and frankly insulting joke about the boss’s wife to a group that includes your boss? As long as you are drunk, no worries. The boss can’t get mad and the next day everyone will pretend it didn’t happen.
And not only is there no shame in getting drunk at the company holiday party, it’s actually a little insulting to your co-workers and especially to your boss if you don’t drink and keep up with the rest of them. Now, there were certainly a few of my co-workers that were driving and therefore didn’t drink and no one held that against them. But, by and large, when the boss asks if you would like a drink, you answer ‘Yes, please.’
So as an American, it’s razor’s edge to walk. I want to drink enough to be sociable and not insult my superiors, but I also cringe at the idea of getting drunk, especially in front of others, and especially in front of my co-workers. And just to make things a bit more difficult, it is the culture here not to fill your own glass, but to fill your neighbor’s and they will fill yours. So, it’s difficult to keep track of how much you’ve drank because your glass keeps getting refilled before you can finish it, and I was sitting across from my kocho-sensei - Principal – so he was the one to keep refilling my glass.
I ended up drinking a bit more than I’d wished, but not too much to do or say anything silly. A few of my co-workers, on the other hand… As I said, they were a lot of fun and I had a great time seeing a different side to these people that I work with. However, I occasionally pictured my own elementary school teachers in their place; and that is mental image that I find both amusing and slightly horrifying. Go ahead. Try it. You want to both laugh and scrub your brain out with bleach, right? Me, too.
Christmas Day was quiet. My family had all gathered for Christmas Eve back in Kansas and I was able to talk to them all on the phone and wish everyone a Happy Christmas. Afterwards, I took a nice walk along the bank of the Tsuboi River before coming home to spend the rest of the day cuddled up with a blanket, some homemade vegetable soup, and movies that my parents had sent. It was a nice day.
Album currently playing on my IPOD – Fleet Foxes 2008 self-titled album. Hands down, my favorite album of the year. Recalling the sounds of the Beach Boys and CSN&Y, these guys are amazing. Check out their official music video for ‘White Winter Hymnal’ on YouTube - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DrQRS40OKNE
Also on my IPOD queue – She and Him’s 2008 album, Volume One. Like many others, when I hear that an actor is putting out an album, I roll my eyes and unfairly judge them before I even hear a note. That said, I can’t help but like this duo which features the singing and songwriting of Zooey Deschanel. I admit, her lyrics can be a bit amateurish and her voice while perfectly serviceable, is certainly not remarkable. And yet, this album is a lot of fun and even a bit addictive. It’s an odd recommendation I admit, but a recommendation nonetheless.
Current reading material – I just finished reading the 1986 graphic novel, Watchmen, written by Alan Moore and illustrated by Dave Gibbons. I’ve never read a graphic novel before, and really only read this one at the urge of my Dad, but I’ve got to admit that I’m impressed. The illustrations are amazing, but more importantly to me, the story is constructed and told brilliantly. I’m now super excited to see the movie version when it comes out in a few months.
- Jenny
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
BOLO - Monkey on the Lam
“Look out for monkey.”
These were the first words spoken to me as I entered the teacher’s room at Shisui E.S. this morning. I kid you not.
After I received such an ominous warning from a group of 2nd & 3rd grade teachers, my coordinator at the school quickly approached to explain. A monkey had been spotted on the school grounds earlier that morning, but had escaped capture and his (her?) location was now unknown. This monkey is believed to have been the same one spotted in nearby cities of Ozu and Kikuyo.
Now, before you start to think that this is a common occurrence and that Kyushu is overrun with wild monkeys, let me assure you that is not true. Many of my co-workers were quick to tell me that this was the first time a monkey has ever been spotted in the town. There are some wild monkeys around Mt. Aso; indeed, that is where this monkey is believed to have originated; but they very rarely leave that uninhabited area.
Needless to say, this monkey is considered to be very dangerous. While about a team of 8 men roam the grounds with various monkey catching equipment, (I have not actually seen the equipment, but I envision some kind of rod with a banana hanging off the end by a piece of string) outside activities are being strictly monitored and recess is restricted to the gymnasium. Classes are being let out about ten minutes early (perhaps to throw the monkey off his schedule) and teachers are organizing groups to walk the children home. Advisory flyers are also being distributed with such helpful hints as:
1) Do not offer the monkey any food. - "Here monkey, monkey. I've got a tasty banana for you!"
2) Do not eat while standing. – I don’t really think this has anything to do with the monkey, rather the teachers are just trying to sneak in a bit of good manners. While they took the time, I wish they had added a bit about chewing with your mouth closed, but they didn’t ask me for my opinion.
3) Do not look the monkey in the eyes. – I’m having a hard time looking anyone in the eyes while they talk so earnestly about monkey safety.
Well, school’s out and the monkey is still on the loose. I kind of hope he (she) can evade capture and liven up someone else’s school day tomorrow.
Album currently playing on my IPOD – The Decemberists’ 2006 album, The Crane Wife.
- Jenny
These were the first words spoken to me as I entered the teacher’s room at Shisui E.S. this morning. I kid you not.
After I received such an ominous warning from a group of 2nd & 3rd grade teachers, my coordinator at the school quickly approached to explain. A monkey had been spotted on the school grounds earlier that morning, but had escaped capture and his (her?) location was now unknown. This monkey is believed to have been the same one spotted in nearby cities of Ozu and Kikuyo.
Now, before you start to think that this is a common occurrence and that Kyushu is overrun with wild monkeys, let me assure you that is not true. Many of my co-workers were quick to tell me that this was the first time a monkey has ever been spotted in the town. There are some wild monkeys around Mt. Aso; indeed, that is where this monkey is believed to have originated; but they very rarely leave that uninhabited area.
Needless to say, this monkey is considered to be very dangerous. While about a team of 8 men roam the grounds with various monkey catching equipment, (I have not actually seen the equipment, but I envision some kind of rod with a banana hanging off the end by a piece of string) outside activities are being strictly monitored and recess is restricted to the gymnasium. Classes are being let out about ten minutes early (perhaps to throw the monkey off his schedule) and teachers are organizing groups to walk the children home. Advisory flyers are also being distributed with such helpful hints as:
1) Do not offer the monkey any food. - "Here monkey, monkey. I've got a tasty banana for you!"
2) Do not eat while standing. – I don’t really think this has anything to do with the monkey, rather the teachers are just trying to sneak in a bit of good manners. While they took the time, I wish they had added a bit about chewing with your mouth closed, but they didn’t ask me for my opinion.
3) Do not look the monkey in the eyes. – I’m having a hard time looking anyone in the eyes while they talk so earnestly about monkey safety.
Well, school’s out and the monkey is still on the loose. I kind of hope he (she) can evade capture and liven up someone else’s school day tomorrow.
Album currently playing on my IPOD – The Decemberists’ 2006 album, The Crane Wife.
- Jenny
Sunday, December 7, 2008
There is No Escape
I’m sure that it will come as little surprise to most of you when I say that this is the time of year I wish I was back in the States. I really wish I could spend the season with my family and friends. However, I will admit that I was looking forward to the absence of one aspect of the Christmas season in America – the music.
That’s right, I confess. I don’t like Christmas music. And now that you’ve discovered you have been reading the thoughts and observations of a veritable monster, I’ll try to assuage your horror a little and clarify that I really just don’t like commercial Christmas music. The Pussycat Dolls, Alice Cooper, and John Waters may have some… interesting perspectives on the meaning of Christmas, but I’m okay with never, ever hearing them. Does the Barenaked Ladies’ Christmas album really fill a niche that the market was lacking?
And I’ve got nothing against the more traditional music of the season, but I have no desire to listen to Faith Hill, Celine Dion, or Brian McKnight’s musical stylings (acrobatics) applied to them. In fact, I don’t even want to listen to artists that I do like sing Christmas music - Johnny Cash, Roberta Flack, Frank Sinatra - I’m talking to you. Why do artists feel like they have to do a holiday album to complete their discography? The minor offenders who only contribute a song or two to a compilation disc (U2, Annie Lennox) must bear their guilt as well, though I suppose it can be mitigated if the album is for charity.
Now we come to the Bing Crosby / Rosemary Clooney genre of Christmas music. This is tolerable, though not necessarily my favorite. To be honest, I really only want to hear Crosby crooning “White Christmas” if I’m watching the movie.
Well, now that I have thoroughly appalled you with my dislike of Christmas music, I should explain why I have confessed my deep, dark secret. As I was saying, I was really looking forward to the absence of Christmas music here in Japan, especially the obnoxious commercial holiday music most restaurants and stores play. Given the fact that I have worked in restaurants and retail stores for most of the last 12 years, the untold trauma I have suffered… So, you can only imagine my horror when, a few weeks ago, I was walking through the home center store to purchase a space heater (Have I mentioned that central heating seems to be verboten here in Japan?), and over the speakers I hear a muzak version of Wham!’s “Last Christmas.” Oh, the humanity! I now live in fear. I know it is only a matter of time before I’m assaulted with Mariah Carey belting out “All I Want for Christmas Is You.”
But I do have some appreciation for holiday music, I promise. Here are a few albums that always find their way into my playlist during the season.
1. Tchaikovsky’ s 1892 The Nutcracker: Narada Artists; 1990
2. Handel’s 1741 Messiah: The Academy of Ancient Music, directed by Christopher Hogwood; 1991
3. December: George Winston; 1990
See? There is hope for me yet.
But, since I can’t be with my family during the holidays, I’m turning to my old comforts to remind me of home –
Recent DVD viewing – Normally, around this time of the time, I get the yen to watch Citizen Kane, the greatest movie ever made. Yeah, I know, I’m such a film geek. But since I don’t have it here with me, I've settled for Touch of Evil. The screenplay isn’t that good, but the direction and cinematography is masterful and Orson Welles is, as always, absolutely brilliant.
Current reading material – Ernest Hemingway’s The Complete Short Stories: The Finca – Vigia Edition. If I were stranded on a deserted isle and could only have one book, this would be it. I will never get tired of these stories and each time I read them, I discover something new. “Big Two-Hearted River: Parts 1 & 2” are my favorites, though each and every story touches something in me.
Album currently playing on my IPOD – The Beatles’ 1966 Revolver. From the startling opening chords of “Taxman” to the beautiful melancholy of “For No One” to the wonderfully child-like “Yellow Submarine,” I am enrapt in warm comfort.
- Jenny
That’s right, I confess. I don’t like Christmas music. And now that you’ve discovered you have been reading the thoughts and observations of a veritable monster, I’ll try to assuage your horror a little and clarify that I really just don’t like commercial Christmas music. The Pussycat Dolls, Alice Cooper, and John Waters may have some… interesting perspectives on the meaning of Christmas, but I’m okay with never, ever hearing them. Does the Barenaked Ladies’ Christmas album really fill a niche that the market was lacking?
And I’ve got nothing against the more traditional music of the season, but I have no desire to listen to Faith Hill, Celine Dion, or Brian McKnight’s musical stylings (acrobatics) applied to them. In fact, I don’t even want to listen to artists that I do like sing Christmas music - Johnny Cash, Roberta Flack, Frank Sinatra - I’m talking to you. Why do artists feel like they have to do a holiday album to complete their discography? The minor offenders who only contribute a song or two to a compilation disc (U2, Annie Lennox) must bear their guilt as well, though I suppose it can be mitigated if the album is for charity.
Now we come to the Bing Crosby / Rosemary Clooney genre of Christmas music. This is tolerable, though not necessarily my favorite. To be honest, I really only want to hear Crosby crooning “White Christmas” if I’m watching the movie.
Well, now that I have thoroughly appalled you with my dislike of Christmas music, I should explain why I have confessed my deep, dark secret. As I was saying, I was really looking forward to the absence of Christmas music here in Japan, especially the obnoxious commercial holiday music most restaurants and stores play. Given the fact that I have worked in restaurants and retail stores for most of the last 12 years, the untold trauma I have suffered… So, you can only imagine my horror when, a few weeks ago, I was walking through the home center store to purchase a space heater (Have I mentioned that central heating seems to be verboten here in Japan?), and over the speakers I hear a muzak version of Wham!’s “Last Christmas.” Oh, the humanity! I now live in fear. I know it is only a matter of time before I’m assaulted with Mariah Carey belting out “All I Want for Christmas Is You.”
But I do have some appreciation for holiday music, I promise. Here are a few albums that always find their way into my playlist during the season.
1. Tchaikovsky’ s 1892 The Nutcracker: Narada Artists; 1990
2. Handel’s 1741 Messiah: The Academy of Ancient Music, directed by Christopher Hogwood; 1991
3. December: George Winston; 1990
See? There is hope for me yet.
But, since I can’t be with my family during the holidays, I’m turning to my old comforts to remind me of home –
Recent DVD viewing – Normally, around this time of the time, I get the yen to watch Citizen Kane, the greatest movie ever made. Yeah, I know, I’m such a film geek. But since I don’t have it here with me, I've settled for Touch of Evil. The screenplay isn’t that good, but the direction and cinematography is masterful and Orson Welles is, as always, absolutely brilliant.
Current reading material – Ernest Hemingway’s The Complete Short Stories: The Finca – Vigia Edition. If I were stranded on a deserted isle and could only have one book, this would be it. I will never get tired of these stories and each time I read them, I discover something new. “Big Two-Hearted River: Parts 1 & 2” are my favorites, though each and every story touches something in me.
Album currently playing on my IPOD – The Beatles’ 1966 Revolver. From the startling opening chords of “Taxman” to the beautiful melancholy of “For No One” to the wonderfully child-like “Yellow Submarine,” I am enrapt in warm comfort.
- Jenny
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Thanksgiving in Japan
Happy Holidays! I hope everyone had an enjoyable Thanksgiving holiday with their loved ones.
My Thanksgiving passed fairly uneventfully and without most of the traditional food stuffs. I don’t know how available turkey is in the rest of Japan, but here in Kumamoto, it has to be special ordered. Pumpkin pie was also absent. Though the Japanese eat a lot of pumpkin, it’s really only used in savory dishes. The idea of pumpkin as dessert strikes many Japanese as odd. And though I do prefer Japanese savory pumpkin to the sweet route Americans take, many traditional Japanese desserts are made out of rice paste with beans, so I don’t really think they have any room to talk. Sweet potatoes were to be found on many dinner tables, including my own, but it’s not the mushy orange dish covered in burnt marshmallows that I think of when I think of sweet potatoes. Sweet potatoes in Japan are more yellowy-white and are usually boiled in soups.
Japanese do celebrate Thanksgiving in their own way, however. Japanese Labor Thanksgiving is observed on November 24th to celebrate the rice harvest. It’s not quite as big a holiday as American Thanksgiving, but they do make steamed glutinous rice dumplings. I know, sounds delicious. These dumplings had a place in many of my school meals during the past week and though I wouldn’t say I am a fan, they’re not as unappetizing as they sound. Often they are filled with anko - a sweet bean paste and much more delicious than it has any right to be considering it is sweet bean paste - and served as a dessert. They can be savory, however, and filled with minced meat or veggies.
Though I didn’t do anything special on Thanksgiving, I did join some fellow English teachers the following night for dinner and drinks. I introduced them to a Mexican restaurant downtown that serves delicious, authentic Mexican food. One of the other teachers, a guy named Bobby from Hawaii, and I had to laugh at the way the tortilla chips were served in a very small bowl, about the size of a coffee cup at a trendy coffee shop like Central Perk, when we were both used to getting big baskets full of chips at Mexican restaurants in the States.
After dinner, the other teachers introduced me to a German restaurant that is known perhaps as well for their extensive beer menu as they are for their food. I think we’re planning to have dinner there next month.
Just as I was finishing up this post, Ricky Martin’s Livin' La Vida Loca came on the radio here in the teachers’ room. Except, it isn’t Ricky Martin and it isn’t Spanish. I have to admit that I despise the song, but there is something incredibly funny about hearing it in Japanese.
Album Currently Playing on my IPOD – 1990 The Narada Nutcracker – in spirit of the season.
- Jenny
My Thanksgiving passed fairly uneventfully and without most of the traditional food stuffs. I don’t know how available turkey is in the rest of Japan, but here in Kumamoto, it has to be special ordered. Pumpkin pie was also absent. Though the Japanese eat a lot of pumpkin, it’s really only used in savory dishes. The idea of pumpkin as dessert strikes many Japanese as odd. And though I do prefer Japanese savory pumpkin to the sweet route Americans take, many traditional Japanese desserts are made out of rice paste with beans, so I don’t really think they have any room to talk. Sweet potatoes were to be found on many dinner tables, including my own, but it’s not the mushy orange dish covered in burnt marshmallows that I think of when I think of sweet potatoes. Sweet potatoes in Japan are more yellowy-white and are usually boiled in soups.
Japanese do celebrate Thanksgiving in their own way, however. Japanese Labor Thanksgiving is observed on November 24th to celebrate the rice harvest. It’s not quite as big a holiday as American Thanksgiving, but they do make steamed glutinous rice dumplings. I know, sounds delicious. These dumplings had a place in many of my school meals during the past week and though I wouldn’t say I am a fan, they’re not as unappetizing as they sound. Often they are filled with anko - a sweet bean paste and much more delicious than it has any right to be considering it is sweet bean paste - and served as a dessert. They can be savory, however, and filled with minced meat or veggies.
Though I didn’t do anything special on Thanksgiving, I did join some fellow English teachers the following night for dinner and drinks. I introduced them to a Mexican restaurant downtown that serves delicious, authentic Mexican food. One of the other teachers, a guy named Bobby from Hawaii, and I had to laugh at the way the tortilla chips were served in a very small bowl, about the size of a coffee cup at a trendy coffee shop like Central Perk, when we were both used to getting big baskets full of chips at Mexican restaurants in the States.
After dinner, the other teachers introduced me to a German restaurant that is known perhaps as well for their extensive beer menu as they are for their food. I think we’re planning to have dinner there next month.
Just as I was finishing up this post, Ricky Martin’s Livin' La Vida Loca came on the radio here in the teachers’ room. Except, it isn’t Ricky Martin and it isn’t Spanish. I have to admit that I despise the song, but there is something incredibly funny about hearing it in Japanese.
Album Currently Playing on my IPOD – 1990 The Narada Nutcracker – in spirit of the season.
- Jenny
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Echo of Footsteps
A few weeks ago, the international news out of Japan was a report of the hanging of two men. Now, given Japan’s relatively low crime rate and the nature of the act, this might have made international news on those merits alone. The truly extraordinary fact about these killings – at least in my eyes – is the fact that they were state sponsored. Yes, you read correctly. Japan employs capital punishment.
A few months ago, if you had asked me to list countries that have the death penalty, I would have said Iran, Pakistan, North Korea, China… you know, all of the countries that opponents of capital punishment catalog and then ask if we really want to be on any list with these ‘evil’ countries. It’s interesting how they always conveniently omit Japan from the list. That may be because Japan executes a significantly smaller number of people than the U.S., Iran, and North Korea, etc. But I think it has much more to do with the idea that Americans typically regard Japan as a highly civilized ally and if Japan employs capital punishment, then the argument that only uncivilized and morally inferior countries believe and use such a practice falls apart.
Now, I want to go on the record in my opposition of capital punishment in the United States and elsewhere - though more for practical reasons than philosophical ones. And I regard America’s practice of it as a blight on our international reputation. However, the more I learn about the way Japan employs it, the more I find America to be almost enlightened by the whole process.
First, as I stated before, Japan continues to use hanging as the method in capital punishment cases. Now, perhaps they have refined their technique, but this remains a relatively problematical way to kill a person – especially for the prisoner.
Except, they aren’t prisoners. Once a person has been sentenced to death, they legally lose their status as a ‘prisoner’ and are no longer awarded even the basic rights of prisoners. They are held in special detention centers where they are kept in solitary confinement with only three books and they are let out for about an hour twice a week for exercise – exercise in their small cell is strictly forbidden. Many of these men spend 10 years or more in these conditions waiting to be executed. One man died at the age of 95 after spending 32 years on death row.
What I truly find cruel and unusual, however, is the fact that these executions are carried out in secret. Neither the family of the victim nor the family of the prisoner are informed until the day after is has taken place. The lawyers aren’t informed. And most horrifically, the prisoners themselves have no idea until the guards come to escort them to the gallows. When sentenced to death row, these men live under the weight of knowledge that one night, without warning, they will be taken to be killed without the opportunity for any final goodbyes. And it could be tonight or it could be many years from now.
The Japanese government claims that this is a more humane practice than giving the prisoners a date on which they will focus and dwell. Apparently, they believe that if the prisoners are not aware of the exact date they will be killed, they will be able to put out of their minds that such a date exists. Which is ridiculous. I’m reminded of Albert Camus’ The Stranger where a man sits on death row in such a set-up. He recalls (mistakenly, as it turns out) that all hangings are performed at dawn, so every night he remains awake in terror, frantically listening for the footsteps that will come to take him to his death. And every morning at sunrise, he falls asleep in exhausted relief that he will live one more day. Unsurprisingly, he drives himself mad.
Album currently playing on my IPOD – Tom Waits’ Beautiful Maladies: The Island Years
- Jenny
A few months ago, if you had asked me to list countries that have the death penalty, I would have said Iran, Pakistan, North Korea, China… you know, all of the countries that opponents of capital punishment catalog and then ask if we really want to be on any list with these ‘evil’ countries. It’s interesting how they always conveniently omit Japan from the list. That may be because Japan executes a significantly smaller number of people than the U.S., Iran, and North Korea, etc. But I think it has much more to do with the idea that Americans typically regard Japan as a highly civilized ally and if Japan employs capital punishment, then the argument that only uncivilized and morally inferior countries believe and use such a practice falls apart.
Now, I want to go on the record in my opposition of capital punishment in the United States and elsewhere - though more for practical reasons than philosophical ones. And I regard America’s practice of it as a blight on our international reputation. However, the more I learn about the way Japan employs it, the more I find America to be almost enlightened by the whole process.
First, as I stated before, Japan continues to use hanging as the method in capital punishment cases. Now, perhaps they have refined their technique, but this remains a relatively problematical way to kill a person – especially for the prisoner.
Except, they aren’t prisoners. Once a person has been sentenced to death, they legally lose their status as a ‘prisoner’ and are no longer awarded even the basic rights of prisoners. They are held in special detention centers where they are kept in solitary confinement with only three books and they are let out for about an hour twice a week for exercise – exercise in their small cell is strictly forbidden. Many of these men spend 10 years or more in these conditions waiting to be executed. One man died at the age of 95 after spending 32 years on death row.
What I truly find cruel and unusual, however, is the fact that these executions are carried out in secret. Neither the family of the victim nor the family of the prisoner are informed until the day after is has taken place. The lawyers aren’t informed. And most horrifically, the prisoners themselves have no idea until the guards come to escort them to the gallows. When sentenced to death row, these men live under the weight of knowledge that one night, without warning, they will be taken to be killed without the opportunity for any final goodbyes. And it could be tonight or it could be many years from now.
The Japanese government claims that this is a more humane practice than giving the prisoners a date on which they will focus and dwell. Apparently, they believe that if the prisoners are not aware of the exact date they will be killed, they will be able to put out of their minds that such a date exists. Which is ridiculous. I’m reminded of Albert Camus’ The Stranger where a man sits on death row in such a set-up. He recalls (mistakenly, as it turns out) that all hangings are performed at dawn, so every night he remains awake in terror, frantically listening for the footsteps that will come to take him to his death. And every morning at sunrise, he falls asleep in exhausted relief that he will live one more day. Unsurprisingly, he drives himself mad.
Album currently playing on my IPOD – Tom Waits’ Beautiful Maladies: The Island Years
- Jenny
Thursday, November 6, 2008
A New Day Dawns in America
Congratulations to Barack Obama on becoming the next President of United States. Not only have we elected the first African-American as President, I really look at this election as one where in spite of the current hardships and uncertainty we face; we, as a society, embraced hope and not fear. Hope for the future and the change we can affect in it.
I’ve gotten a few consoling emails, lamenting the fact that in this historic time in America, I should be halfway across the world. And though I certainly would have enjoyed celebrating with y’all, I wouldn’t change the view I have for anything. At the same time that election results were starting to come in, the Japanese students and teachers at Shichijo Elementary School were welcoming a group of English teachers from all over the world to their school. We had teachers from New Zealand, India, Jamaica, South Africa, Canada, and of course, a few from the U.S.A. And when I and my countrymen introduced ourselves as hailing from America, there were no questions whether we referred to small town, real America or big town, fake America, whether we were from red states or blue states, or if we identified with conservative America or liberal America. We are from America. We are Americans.
- Jenny
I’ve gotten a few consoling emails, lamenting the fact that in this historic time in America, I should be halfway across the world. And though I certainly would have enjoyed celebrating with y’all, I wouldn’t change the view I have for anything. At the same time that election results were starting to come in, the Japanese students and teachers at Shichijo Elementary School were welcoming a group of English teachers from all over the world to their school. We had teachers from New Zealand, India, Jamaica, South Africa, Canada, and of course, a few from the U.S.A. And when I and my countrymen introduced ourselves as hailing from America, there were no questions whether we referred to small town, real America or big town, fake America, whether we were from red states or blue states, or if we identified with conservative America or liberal America. We are from America. We are Americans.
- Jenny
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Playground Revenge and Halloween
The nights are falling sooner. The air is growing chillier. Autumn is here. And here to stay for a bit it seems, though Japanese will call it ‘winter’ here before long. I’ve already been warned by several of my co-workers that the temperatures can even get down to freezing occasionally, usually in the early mornings. Their eyes grow wide when I tell them that on good winter day in Kansas, the temperatures might get up to freezing by midday. Of course, it won’t be a day at the beach for me entirely. Like air conditioning, heat seems to be a rationed commodity in Japan. I might have it in the teacher’s room at my schools, but the classrooms will be without, and I never quite figured out the air conditioning / heating unit at my apartment. My little space heaters will have to bear the burden.
At my schools, the students are getting in as much quality time on the playground as they can before the weather becomes unbearable, I suppose. And I am often their honored guest during recess. Kids on both hands pulling me in every direction to the swings, jungle gyms, and teeter-totter (which they always crack up when I say the name of). I’ve gotten quite a bit of respect from the younger kids for scaling the jungle gym with them and sliding down the slides.
With the older kids, we usually head for the all-purpose sports field where there are always a number of matches going on: soccer, kickball, dodge ball, and a big favorite – dodge frisbee. There is occasionally a teacher or two playing along with the students, but for the most part, the kids are on their own during this 45 minutes after lunch. They usually stay divided by grade and class and can spend 15 – 20 minutes working out the rules – though once the game begins, I’ve never seen any fights erupt and all disagreements seem to be worked out very quickly and without hurt feelings – so, I suppose that time is spent well.
Choosing teams is a fun thing for me now. When I was a kid in elementary school, I was always in the bottom half of kids chosen. The first mark against me, of course, was that I was a girl, we’re always chosen last. The second mark was that I was pretty middle of the road when it came to athleticism and popularity, the two factors that can help a girl get chosen before others. I never realized how affected by that I was, or honestly, the fact that I was affected at all – I never remember a time when I was the absolute last kid picked. But, I have to admit that I get a good deal of satisfaction at always being the first one chosen for teams here in Japan. Finally, the popularity factor works in my favor. But being chosen first isn’t the only benefit I’m accorded. I’m rarely targeted during games of dodge ball and frisbee and ties always seem to go to Jenny-sensei. It would get old after too long, but at the moment, I’m quietly enjoying this small sense of playground revenge.
Starting last week, I began teaching lessons about Halloween to some of my older students. The existence of Halloween is certainly well-known here in Japan. I’ve seen images of jack o’lanterns everywhere from department stores to car dealerships to school classrooms. I walked past a high-end patisserie in the basement of a local department store with a large Halloween display consisting almost entirely of pumpkins and a large portion of their treats were pumpkin based – though nothing Americans would be familiar with.
I have little idea what Japanese actually know about the holiday other than faces carved on pumpkins, though. In fact, when I introduced ‘jack o’lanterns’ to my first and second graders, they called them ‘halloweens.’
I tried to compare Halloween to the Japanese holiday, Obon. But, it’s not a very good comparison. Obon is more like the Mexican holiday, Dia de los Muertos - a day where souls of the dead, particularly ancestors, return for a visit. But Obon doesn’t really have any of the fear element that Halloween does and I didn’t want to frighten my students, so I chose more cartoon-like pictures of ghosts, skeletons, and various monsters. From their laughter, I suppose I succeeded in not frightening them at least, if not really impress upon them the meaning of ‘scary’ in relation to Halloween. Oh well, at least, they all had a good time with balloon races and making paper jack o’lanterns.
Current reading material – Dorothy Parker’s Complete Stories. Her wit is legendary, of course, but it is her style that I admire so much. As an aspiring writer myself, I am in awe of how effortlessly Parker makes it look. I have to admit though, she’s best read when one isn’t in a relationship. Outlook on romance - not very sunny.
Album currently playing on my IPOD – Gram Parsons’ GP / Grievous Angel. I was introduced to Gram Parsons by my Dad when I was in high school and was immediately reminded that the phrase ‘good country music’ need not be an oxymoron, despite all contemporary evidence to the contrary.
- Jenny
At my schools, the students are getting in as much quality time on the playground as they can before the weather becomes unbearable, I suppose. And I am often their honored guest during recess. Kids on both hands pulling me in every direction to the swings, jungle gyms, and teeter-totter (which they always crack up when I say the name of). I’ve gotten quite a bit of respect from the younger kids for scaling the jungle gym with them and sliding down the slides.
With the older kids, we usually head for the all-purpose sports field where there are always a number of matches going on: soccer, kickball, dodge ball, and a big favorite – dodge frisbee. There is occasionally a teacher or two playing along with the students, but for the most part, the kids are on their own during this 45 minutes after lunch. They usually stay divided by grade and class and can spend 15 – 20 minutes working out the rules – though once the game begins, I’ve never seen any fights erupt and all disagreements seem to be worked out very quickly and without hurt feelings – so, I suppose that time is spent well.
Choosing teams is a fun thing for me now. When I was a kid in elementary school, I was always in the bottom half of kids chosen. The first mark against me, of course, was that I was a girl, we’re always chosen last. The second mark was that I was pretty middle of the road when it came to athleticism and popularity, the two factors that can help a girl get chosen before others. I never realized how affected by that I was, or honestly, the fact that I was affected at all – I never remember a time when I was the absolute last kid picked. But, I have to admit that I get a good deal of satisfaction at always being the first one chosen for teams here in Japan. Finally, the popularity factor works in my favor. But being chosen first isn’t the only benefit I’m accorded. I’m rarely targeted during games of dodge ball and frisbee and ties always seem to go to Jenny-sensei. It would get old after too long, but at the moment, I’m quietly enjoying this small sense of playground revenge.
Starting last week, I began teaching lessons about Halloween to some of my older students. The existence of Halloween is certainly well-known here in Japan. I’ve seen images of jack o’lanterns everywhere from department stores to car dealerships to school classrooms. I walked past a high-end patisserie in the basement of a local department store with a large Halloween display consisting almost entirely of pumpkins and a large portion of their treats were pumpkin based – though nothing Americans would be familiar with.
I have little idea what Japanese actually know about the holiday other than faces carved on pumpkins, though. In fact, when I introduced ‘jack o’lanterns’ to my first and second graders, they called them ‘halloweens.’
I tried to compare Halloween to the Japanese holiday, Obon. But, it’s not a very good comparison. Obon is more like the Mexican holiday, Dia de los Muertos - a day where souls of the dead, particularly ancestors, return for a visit. But Obon doesn’t really have any of the fear element that Halloween does and I didn’t want to frighten my students, so I chose more cartoon-like pictures of ghosts, skeletons, and various monsters. From their laughter, I suppose I succeeded in not frightening them at least, if not really impress upon them the meaning of ‘scary’ in relation to Halloween. Oh well, at least, they all had a good time with balloon races and making paper jack o’lanterns.
Current reading material – Dorothy Parker’s Complete Stories. Her wit is legendary, of course, but it is her style that I admire so much. As an aspiring writer myself, I am in awe of how effortlessly Parker makes it look. I have to admit though, she’s best read when one isn’t in a relationship. Outlook on romance - not very sunny.
Album currently playing on my IPOD – Gram Parsons’ GP / Grievous Angel. I was introduced to Gram Parsons by my Dad when I was in high school and was immediately reminded that the phrase ‘good country music’ need not be an oxymoron, despite all contemporary evidence to the contrary.
- Jenny
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Yes, But What Does Britney Think?
There are a great many things that I miss about America. Many, of course, I expected: my family and friends, favorite shops, and restaurants. It’s what I didn’t expect to miss that is really throwing me for a loop, however.
I miss Twinkies. I don’t really even like Twinkies that much and I rarely eat them, but somehow their absence is keenly felt.
I miss American television; particularly the guilty pleasure shows, the shows that I would never think to watch unless I was bored and had come upon them while channel surfing - the VH1 marathon of last season’s ‘America’s Next Top Model’ or the second-rate action movie on TNT.
Mostly, I find that I miss magazines. I miss reading the witty and thought provoking editorials and essays in The New Yorker and Time Magazine. Now, I know that I can read them online. Even the cartoons, which I admit constitute about half of my reading pleasure in The New Yorker, are included on it’s online pages. But, it’s not quite the same as sitting down in a comfortable chair and flipping through the pages.
And as much as I miss the respectable magazines, I must confess what I really miss are the gossip rags. I miss People and US Magazine. It’s all fine and good to read about the Pakistani President’s unsettlingly friendly relationship with the Chinese leadership in Time, but what about Jennifer Aniston’s love life? Where can I find photos of Nicole Richie at the supermarket or a picture gallery of recent celebrity ‘baby bumps’? And yes, I can find much of this online as well. But, there is something about actually setting out to find gossip that takes so much of the joy out it. And viewing the pictures online just isn’t the same. There is something about the glossy pages and splashy, exaggerated headlines that transforms them from tacky gossip into perfectly acceptable entertainment.
And where People and US Magazine are like Pizza Hut pizza– not my usual preference for dinner, but the subject of an occasional craving – OK! and Star Magazine seem to fill the role of Twinkies in this admittedly odd allegory. I never actually buy them, but there is something very comforting about their presence in the grocery check-out line; something reassuring about the competing headlines of a Jolie / Pitt break-up versus their plans to marry on Christmas Eve at the Taj Mahal.
More evidence, I suppose, that even metaphorical superficial cuts cause more irritation than deeper wounds. I wonder if I’ll spend one of my first days back in the States sitting in front of the television eating Twinkies and flipping through US Magazine while ‘America’s Next Top Model’ is on. And no doubt, remembering very quickly why I never thought I would miss them in the first place.
Recent DVD viewing– The 1987 BBC series of Dorothy L. Sayers Lord Peter Wimsey films starring Edward Petherbridge and Harriet Walter. I’m enjoying them tremendously and am now very interested in reading the original novels.
Album currently playing on my IPOD – Gomez’s 2004 album, Split the Difference. Great band, check them out.
- Jenny
I miss Twinkies. I don’t really even like Twinkies that much and I rarely eat them, but somehow their absence is keenly felt.
I miss American television; particularly the guilty pleasure shows, the shows that I would never think to watch unless I was bored and had come upon them while channel surfing - the VH1 marathon of last season’s ‘America’s Next Top Model’ or the second-rate action movie on TNT.
Mostly, I find that I miss magazines. I miss reading the witty and thought provoking editorials and essays in The New Yorker and Time Magazine. Now, I know that I can read them online. Even the cartoons, which I admit constitute about half of my reading pleasure in The New Yorker, are included on it’s online pages. But, it’s not quite the same as sitting down in a comfortable chair and flipping through the pages.
And as much as I miss the respectable magazines, I must confess what I really miss are the gossip rags. I miss People and US Magazine. It’s all fine and good to read about the Pakistani President’s unsettlingly friendly relationship with the Chinese leadership in Time, but what about Jennifer Aniston’s love life? Where can I find photos of Nicole Richie at the supermarket or a picture gallery of recent celebrity ‘baby bumps’? And yes, I can find much of this online as well. But, there is something about actually setting out to find gossip that takes so much of the joy out it. And viewing the pictures online just isn’t the same. There is something about the glossy pages and splashy, exaggerated headlines that transforms them from tacky gossip into perfectly acceptable entertainment.
And where People and US Magazine are like Pizza Hut pizza– not my usual preference for dinner, but the subject of an occasional craving – OK! and Star Magazine seem to fill the role of Twinkies in this admittedly odd allegory. I never actually buy them, but there is something very comforting about their presence in the grocery check-out line; something reassuring about the competing headlines of a Jolie / Pitt break-up versus their plans to marry on Christmas Eve at the Taj Mahal.
More evidence, I suppose, that even metaphorical superficial cuts cause more irritation than deeper wounds. I wonder if I’ll spend one of my first days back in the States sitting in front of the television eating Twinkies and flipping through US Magazine while ‘America’s Next Top Model’ is on. And no doubt, remembering very quickly why I never thought I would miss them in the first place.
Recent DVD viewing– The 1987 BBC series of Dorothy L. Sayers Lord Peter Wimsey films starring Edward Petherbridge and Harriet Walter. I’m enjoying them tremendously and am now very interested in reading the original novels.
Album currently playing on my IPOD – Gomez’s 2004 album, Split the Difference. Great band, check them out.
- Jenny
Thursday, October 9, 2008
E Cannibus Unum?
Recently, the sumo world has been rocked by scandal. Two wrestlers have been permanently banned from professional sumo for having failed drug tests. They were found to have used… wait for it…. Marijuana. Yes, that dangerous drug that gives a professional athlete such an unfair advantage.
The Chairman of the Japan Sumo Association has lunged to accept the full blame of such a disastrous scandal and responded by tendering his resignation, though he insists that he had no prior knowledge of it and in actuality, completely believes the wrestlers when they deny having used marijuana. The Japanese, as a culture, have such an amazing ability to accept full blame for a situation, while at the same time, completely denying any of the responsibility. As usual, it seems to be the opposite of America, where everyone wants the responsibility, yet accepts none of the blame.
And after recounting all of the dirty details of lifetime bans and resignations, the media then focuses on two, in my estimation, minor details in the scandal. One, the fact that the wrestlers are Russian borne, though they have been living and working in Japan for a good portion of their young lives. And two, they allegedly attained the pot while in America. The implications are unspoken, yet certainly not subtle; no true Japanese sumo would have succumbed to this terrible western drug. It’s as though the Japanese believe that they couldn’t possibly be corrupted by such things.
And yet, the more I see, the more I kind of believe it. Not that Japanese can’t be corrupted by things, but they seem to be completely unaware of marijuana’s existence, and at the same time, naively aware of it.
A slight digression, but stick with me. All Japanese schoolchildren have pencil cases in which they carry pencils (of course), erasers, crayons, rulers, and - somewhat oddly in my mind – needles and thread. The younger kids usually leave them in their desks and the older grades bring them to my class despite the fact that they never, ever use them. In fact, it was when I was directing them to set them down on the floor by the wall to keep them out of the way, when I noticed the large number of cases in very distinct colors of green, black, and orange-red. It was the unmistakable image of a cannabis leaf on the lid of one of the cases that really caught my eye, however. I won’t insult you by pretending that I didn’t immediately recognize it. Despite what social conservatives proclaim, to be raised in a small town in Kansas and not recognize the shape of a cannabis leaf or the distinctive smell when it’s being smoked, requires such a passionate commitment to ignorance that I am grateful to have never had.
I had a class to teach, though, and no time to investigate this interesting development. Thankfully, I was scheduled to eat lunch with the one of the other 6th grade classes and would have the opportunity to check it out.
And we circle closer and closer. I think I’ve described in general terms lunch-time in Japanese elementary schools before, but to give you a little better picture of what happens – lunch period officially begins at 12:30. It’s at this time that about six students put on their aprons and caps and head down to the ‘kitchen’ area and collect lunch and all of the dishware for the entire class. This usually consists of a basket full of bowls, plates, and chopsticks, a metal bucket full of rice, another containing soup and a smaller covered pan with the fish and / or pickled foods. Another pair of students head to the school refrigerators to collect the milk for the class. When they return to the classroom, these students set up an assembly line and serve their classmates. Nobody begins eating until everyone is served and the students on lunch duty for the day have removed their aprons and caps and settled down to eat.
This entire process often takes a good twenty to twenty-five minutes. I’ve seen it take up to thirty minutes a few times. It’s odd to me how these students react at lunch-time - it’s beyond patient and bordering on the apathetic. We can have our food sitting in front of us for ten minutes and the kids never act annoyed or even curious as to why we haven’t started eating yet. I have to admit, I become both curious and annoyed, though I try to hide it.
My point – and yes, I do have one – is that I often have ten or fifteen minutes to interact and observe the kids as we wait for our lunch to begin. The kids are often reading, drawing, playing cards, etc. Most importantly, they are often opening their desks, revealing their pencil cases. During this particular lunch, I didn’t immediately sit down and start talking with the kids at my particular lunch group. Instead, I wandered around the room on the lookout for that distinctive leaf. Almost immediately, I spied a very sweet and somewhat shy girl named Naoko open her desk, and sure enough, sitting on top of her Winnie the Pooh folder, was her metal pencil case in that distinctive green color and covered with outlines of cannabis leaves. On the corner of the case, however, were the words ‘The Hemp Society.’ Now, Japan actually has a decently large hemp market, so I withheld judgment.
In the desk next to her, however, I hit jackpot. The boy threw open his desk to get his comic book to show his friends and next to it was his pencil case. It was black, green, and red striped and in big, black letters completely covering the top of the case, said ‘CANNABIS.’ I kind of caught his and Naoko’s eye, and tried to subtly look at the cases questioningly. Their faces as they looked back at me were the definition of childlike innocence. There was no hint of a smirk which I would have suspected.
I’ve had my eyes on the lookout since, and these particular pencil cases are everywhere and they seem as though they’re all from the same company or brand. And despite their wide dispersion throughout all of my schools, nobody seems to indicate that know what they represent.
But seeing young girls walk around with pencil cases advertising marijuana along with their Winnie the Pooh binders and their Hello Kitty pencils isn't the only incongruity to been found in Japan. A common sight in downtown Kumamoto are thin, young men with Clay Aiken hairdos and delicate features wearing oversized FUBU clothes, and small boutiques filled with lacy, frilly clothes and playing Bob Marley’s ‘Africa Unite’ on the speakers.
It’s like an entire country is in on the joke and nobody is blinking.
My Current Reading Material – Stanley Lombardo’s brilliant translation of Virgil’s Aeneid. Dr. Lombardo was a professor of mine at the University of Kansas and I’ve had the extraordinary pleasure of listening to him read from several of his translations, including Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey. He brings such a modern voice to these classics, while still remaining faithful to the spirit of the author and work. I cannot recommend these translations more highly.
Album currently playing on my IPOD – Robert Johnson: The Complete Recordings. And next up – Eric Clapton’s 2004 album, Me and Mr. Johnson.
- Jenny
The Chairman of the Japan Sumo Association has lunged to accept the full blame of such a disastrous scandal and responded by tendering his resignation, though he insists that he had no prior knowledge of it and in actuality, completely believes the wrestlers when they deny having used marijuana. The Japanese, as a culture, have such an amazing ability to accept full blame for a situation, while at the same time, completely denying any of the responsibility. As usual, it seems to be the opposite of America, where everyone wants the responsibility, yet accepts none of the blame.
And after recounting all of the dirty details of lifetime bans and resignations, the media then focuses on two, in my estimation, minor details in the scandal. One, the fact that the wrestlers are Russian borne, though they have been living and working in Japan for a good portion of their young lives. And two, they allegedly attained the pot while in America. The implications are unspoken, yet certainly not subtle; no true Japanese sumo would have succumbed to this terrible western drug. It’s as though the Japanese believe that they couldn’t possibly be corrupted by such things.
And yet, the more I see, the more I kind of believe it. Not that Japanese can’t be corrupted by things, but they seem to be completely unaware of marijuana’s existence, and at the same time, naively aware of it.
A slight digression, but stick with me. All Japanese schoolchildren have pencil cases in which they carry pencils (of course), erasers, crayons, rulers, and - somewhat oddly in my mind – needles and thread. The younger kids usually leave them in their desks and the older grades bring them to my class despite the fact that they never, ever use them. In fact, it was when I was directing them to set them down on the floor by the wall to keep them out of the way, when I noticed the large number of cases in very distinct colors of green, black, and orange-red. It was the unmistakable image of a cannabis leaf on the lid of one of the cases that really caught my eye, however. I won’t insult you by pretending that I didn’t immediately recognize it. Despite what social conservatives proclaim, to be raised in a small town in Kansas and not recognize the shape of a cannabis leaf or the distinctive smell when it’s being smoked, requires such a passionate commitment to ignorance that I am grateful to have never had.
I had a class to teach, though, and no time to investigate this interesting development. Thankfully, I was scheduled to eat lunch with the one of the other 6th grade classes and would have the opportunity to check it out.
And we circle closer and closer. I think I’ve described in general terms lunch-time in Japanese elementary schools before, but to give you a little better picture of what happens – lunch period officially begins at 12:30. It’s at this time that about six students put on their aprons and caps and head down to the ‘kitchen’ area and collect lunch and all of the dishware for the entire class. This usually consists of a basket full of bowls, plates, and chopsticks, a metal bucket full of rice, another containing soup and a smaller covered pan with the fish and / or pickled foods. Another pair of students head to the school refrigerators to collect the milk for the class. When they return to the classroom, these students set up an assembly line and serve their classmates. Nobody begins eating until everyone is served and the students on lunch duty for the day have removed their aprons and caps and settled down to eat.
This entire process often takes a good twenty to twenty-five minutes. I’ve seen it take up to thirty minutes a few times. It’s odd to me how these students react at lunch-time - it’s beyond patient and bordering on the apathetic. We can have our food sitting in front of us for ten minutes and the kids never act annoyed or even curious as to why we haven’t started eating yet. I have to admit, I become both curious and annoyed, though I try to hide it.
My point – and yes, I do have one – is that I often have ten or fifteen minutes to interact and observe the kids as we wait for our lunch to begin. The kids are often reading, drawing, playing cards, etc. Most importantly, they are often opening their desks, revealing their pencil cases. During this particular lunch, I didn’t immediately sit down and start talking with the kids at my particular lunch group. Instead, I wandered around the room on the lookout for that distinctive leaf. Almost immediately, I spied a very sweet and somewhat shy girl named Naoko open her desk, and sure enough, sitting on top of her Winnie the Pooh folder, was her metal pencil case in that distinctive green color and covered with outlines of cannabis leaves. On the corner of the case, however, were the words ‘The Hemp Society.’ Now, Japan actually has a decently large hemp market, so I withheld judgment.
In the desk next to her, however, I hit jackpot. The boy threw open his desk to get his comic book to show his friends and next to it was his pencil case. It was black, green, and red striped and in big, black letters completely covering the top of the case, said ‘CANNABIS.’ I kind of caught his and Naoko’s eye, and tried to subtly look at the cases questioningly. Their faces as they looked back at me were the definition of childlike innocence. There was no hint of a smirk which I would have suspected.
I’ve had my eyes on the lookout since, and these particular pencil cases are everywhere and they seem as though they’re all from the same company or brand. And despite their wide dispersion throughout all of my schools, nobody seems to indicate that know what they represent.
But seeing young girls walk around with pencil cases advertising marijuana along with their Winnie the Pooh binders and their Hello Kitty pencils isn't the only incongruity to been found in Japan. A common sight in downtown Kumamoto are thin, young men with Clay Aiken hairdos and delicate features wearing oversized FUBU clothes, and small boutiques filled with lacy, frilly clothes and playing Bob Marley’s ‘Africa Unite’ on the speakers.
It’s like an entire country is in on the joke and nobody is blinking.
My Current Reading Material – Stanley Lombardo’s brilliant translation of Virgil’s Aeneid. Dr. Lombardo was a professor of mine at the University of Kansas and I’ve had the extraordinary pleasure of listening to him read from several of his translations, including Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey. He brings such a modern voice to these classics, while still remaining faithful to the spirit of the author and work. I cannot recommend these translations more highly.
Album currently playing on my IPOD – Robert Johnson: The Complete Recordings. And next up – Eric Clapton’s 2004 album, Me and Mr. Johnson.
- Jenny
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Newman's Top Ten
In honor of my favorite actor, an extraordinary man, here are my Top Ten Paul Newman Films:
1. Butch Cassidy & The Sundance Kid - 1969
2. Cat on a Hot Tin Roof - 1958
3. Cool Hand Luke - 1967
4. The Sting - 1973
5. The Long, Hot Summer - 1958
6. Slap Shot - 1977
7. Hud - 1963
8. The Hustler - 1961
9. The Color of Money - 1986
10. The Verdict - 1982
1. Butch Cassidy & The Sundance Kid - 1969
2. Cat on a Hot Tin Roof - 1958
3. Cool Hand Luke - 1967
4. The Sting - 1973
5. The Long, Hot Summer - 1958
6. Slap Shot - 1977
7. Hud - 1963
8. The Hustler - 1961
9. The Color of Money - 1986
10. The Verdict - 1982
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