Sometimes – okay, 99% of the time – I feel like I have ‘AMERICAN’ stamped on my forehead. It is, of course, nothing that I am embarrassed about. I just never realized such a label could come with a breathtaking scope of implications. I was warned by my agents at OWLS that whatever I say or do will be construed by my students as indicative of what all Americans say and do. And though that advice is certainly sound: it is slightly misleading, in my observations. More than presenting a model of a typical American, I find myself fighting against the Japanese mental image of all Americans.
I thought I understood and experienced the concept of ‘stereotyping.’ However, living in one of the last nation states in the world – the population is 98.5% Japanese ethnicity – I have gained a whole new understanding of the term. Despite having never been acquainted with an American, most Japanese have this image of what an American is. And it is an image that is difficult to shake…
I am often given coffee by my co-workers. They don’t ask if I would like any coffee – this is a Japanese politeness: by not asking, they are protecting me from having to make a decision – they simply place a cup of coffee on my desk. Unfortunately, I don’t like coffee. I would much prefer tea. This doesn’t occur to my co-workers, though. I am American, so of course I drink coffee. The few times I have been asked and I expressed my preference of tea over coffee, they seem genuinely shocked. To discover that not only have I heard of green tea, but that I actually like it is simply stunning.
Stewart says that though the Japanese would not admit it, they often believe that things they consider to be quintessentially Japanese - like green tea, sushi, karaoke, etc. – if even known by the outside world, which they sincerely doubt, certainly cannot be liked or appreciated by outsiders. An American that comes to Japan already knowing of and enjoying tekka maki, well, that is just beyond belief.
To this end, I have little difficulty saying ‘no’ to foods like watermelon or hamburgers. However, I have never declined any traditional Japanese food. About a week ago, I was eating lunch with a 4th grade class when they offered me some umeboshi – a pickled fruit similar to a plum. I tried one and amused the class with my facial expressions while eating it; umeboshi are amazingly tart. I wasn’t especially fond of it, but preceded to eat three more just to prove to them that I could.
Even to Japanese that I have not met, but just pass on the street, I am assumed to be American. But I’m not quite sure why that is. Most westerners in Japan, especially of my age, are British, Canadian, Australian, etc. as these cultures embrace the concept of ‘gap year’ or ‘working holiday’– a period of time, usually about a year, taken between major stages of life such as between high school and college or undergraduate program and graduate school. There are many programs between Japan and these countries which allow expedited visa approval and employment opportunities to such applicants.
Anyway, the upshot of it is: if I do something impolite or a cultural faux pas, I would probably be disregarded as an ‘ignorant American.’ If an Australian did the same thing, they would probably be disregarded as an ‘ignorant American.’ I’m swimming against the tide here. And most of you know me well enough that perhaps the only thing I am more afraid of than appearing as if I do not have a sense of humor is appearing ignorant. When it all comes down to it, that really is the main reason I came to Japan, to experience all of these things that I haven’t before, so that in the future, when someone starts to talk of takoyaki – commonly referred to as octopus balls in English, but I’ll call them octopus beignets to give you a better idea – I can say that not only do I know what they are talking about, but that I have eaten them before and liked them tremendously. I want to be cultured dammit!
Part 2 coming soon…..
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Unwrapping the Enigma
Beautiful Buttocks. I saw this fantastic phrase repeated down the front of a t-shirt in the window of a downtown Kumamoto boutique. How I restrained myself from buying it, I will never know. I do think I have gained some perspective on the enigma I have been presented on the subject of Japanese fashion, however.
All schoolchildren from first grade through high school wear uniforms which look very similar to most uniforms kids in American private schools wear. Elementary schoolchildren are often dressed in white polo shirts, grey or navy bottoms – shorts for the boys and pleated skirts for the girls – and with the option of a matching grey or navy sweater vest, sweater, or blazer. Uniforms for junior high and high school kids look a lot like Catholic school uniforms with plaid skirts and ties and dark grey or navy blazers. Though some girls’ uniforms are an outfit styled remarkably like a sailor outfit most often worn by toddlers in the States, and some boys wear a Mandarin style jacket and pants.
Now, the idea of school uniforms is, of course, not completely unknown to this public-schooled American. On my high school debate team, I often argued that uniforms in public schools would improve kids’ grades and safety. My advocacy for school uniforms hit a snag, however, when I discovered that school kids in Japan are required to wear their uniforms whenever they are in public – evenings, weekends, holidays. Of course, some wild kids will rebel and dress in something else to go out, but if they are seen by someone they know, they will probably be reported and disciplined by their school. How crazy is that? The girls are also not supposed to wear makeup or style their hair in an unnatural way - dying or perming it. Though those rules are beginning to slide just a little. But basically, they aren’t supposed to appear in any way that will draw attention to themselves as individuals rather than as a group.
It’s little wonder then, that by the time these girls get out of high school, they jump at the chance to wear outrageous things and radical looking makeup. All girls go through an experimentation phase with their appearance. These girls are just five or six years behind American girls in their fashion development.
Mystery solved. I still don’t like the stocking that come just above the knee, however.
Japanese schools do have a practice I believe American schools should emulate in ‘Cleaning Time.’ After lunch, students get about 45 – 55 minutes of recess, then they have a 30-minute period of cleaning. All students – even the first graders - clean the entire school: their classrooms, hallways, restrooms, even the teacher’s room and the outside. They empty all the trash, sweep the floors, and wash the sidewalks. At one of my schools, the kids clean the outside – sweeping the sidewalks and watering the plants – before school begins and clean the inside after lunch. I think it’s a fantastic idea; and in addition to the cooking classes, it teaches the children how to survive in everyday life, not just in a schoolroom. Kids, in general, are capable of so much more than we ask of them, I think.
I’m still really enjoying my job. I have now been to all of my schools and have learned how to drive to them all, though it took several occasions of getting lost. The kids continue to ask the oddest and often uncomfortable questions. The first question I always get is ‘How old are you?’ I never realized just how American I am in the sense that in my mind, that is simply a question you are not supposed to ask. Someone can volunteer their age, but you never ask. It is completely different here as Nobie told me I needed to include my age on my resume. In job postings, the preferred age of the candidates are often one of the first things mentioned.
The second question I am always asked is if I am married. It seemed strange to me as when I was their age, I never gave a second thought to the personal lives of my teachers, even when I knew their husbands or kids. And often, when I say that I am unmarried, the students immediately start chattering between them like stereotypical Jewish mothers and grandmothers discussing possible marital matches for me. One class even thought it prudent to tell me that their male teacher was also my age and unmarried, and then asked me if I liked him. What do I answer to that? And these are 9 year olds. Nobie said that is a strictly rural thing, though. In most of Japan, it is considered impolite of anyone to ask if someone is married or in a relationship.
A few other questions verboten in Japan are ‘What school did you go to?’ and ‘What is your - or your father’s - job?’ If asked the second, most Japanese will simply name the company they work for with no indication if they are a janitor for the company or the president, or they will simply say they are a salaryman. These questions seem so innocuous to me, but in Japan the answers can quickly place someone in a certain societal position or strata. It can be used to judge someone quickly and often unfairly.
I better get back to work. I am preparing a lesson on directions: up, down, over, under, etc. Before I go, though, let me include my favorite Japanized-English phrase so far. Stewart and I were walking past a department store when I saw a sign for a ‘Retro Future Sale.’ Make of that what you will.
- Jenny
All schoolchildren from first grade through high school wear uniforms which look very similar to most uniforms kids in American private schools wear. Elementary schoolchildren are often dressed in white polo shirts, grey or navy bottoms – shorts for the boys and pleated skirts for the girls – and with the option of a matching grey or navy sweater vest, sweater, or blazer. Uniforms for junior high and high school kids look a lot like Catholic school uniforms with plaid skirts and ties and dark grey or navy blazers. Though some girls’ uniforms are an outfit styled remarkably like a sailor outfit most often worn by toddlers in the States, and some boys wear a Mandarin style jacket and pants.
Now, the idea of school uniforms is, of course, not completely unknown to this public-schooled American. On my high school debate team, I often argued that uniforms in public schools would improve kids’ grades and safety. My advocacy for school uniforms hit a snag, however, when I discovered that school kids in Japan are required to wear their uniforms whenever they are in public – evenings, weekends, holidays. Of course, some wild kids will rebel and dress in something else to go out, but if they are seen by someone they know, they will probably be reported and disciplined by their school. How crazy is that? The girls are also not supposed to wear makeup or style their hair in an unnatural way - dying or perming it. Though those rules are beginning to slide just a little. But basically, they aren’t supposed to appear in any way that will draw attention to themselves as individuals rather than as a group.
It’s little wonder then, that by the time these girls get out of high school, they jump at the chance to wear outrageous things and radical looking makeup. All girls go through an experimentation phase with their appearance. These girls are just five or six years behind American girls in their fashion development.
Mystery solved. I still don’t like the stocking that come just above the knee, however.
Japanese schools do have a practice I believe American schools should emulate in ‘Cleaning Time.’ After lunch, students get about 45 – 55 minutes of recess, then they have a 30-minute period of cleaning. All students – even the first graders - clean the entire school: their classrooms, hallways, restrooms, even the teacher’s room and the outside. They empty all the trash, sweep the floors, and wash the sidewalks. At one of my schools, the kids clean the outside – sweeping the sidewalks and watering the plants – before school begins and clean the inside after lunch. I think it’s a fantastic idea; and in addition to the cooking classes, it teaches the children how to survive in everyday life, not just in a schoolroom. Kids, in general, are capable of so much more than we ask of them, I think.
I’m still really enjoying my job. I have now been to all of my schools and have learned how to drive to them all, though it took several occasions of getting lost. The kids continue to ask the oddest and often uncomfortable questions. The first question I always get is ‘How old are you?’ I never realized just how American I am in the sense that in my mind, that is simply a question you are not supposed to ask. Someone can volunteer their age, but you never ask. It is completely different here as Nobie told me I needed to include my age on my resume. In job postings, the preferred age of the candidates are often one of the first things mentioned.
The second question I am always asked is if I am married. It seemed strange to me as when I was their age, I never gave a second thought to the personal lives of my teachers, even when I knew their husbands or kids. And often, when I say that I am unmarried, the students immediately start chattering between them like stereotypical Jewish mothers and grandmothers discussing possible marital matches for me. One class even thought it prudent to tell me that their male teacher was also my age and unmarried, and then asked me if I liked him. What do I answer to that? And these are 9 year olds. Nobie said that is a strictly rural thing, though. In most of Japan, it is considered impolite of anyone to ask if someone is married or in a relationship.
A few other questions verboten in Japan are ‘What school did you go to?’ and ‘What is your - or your father’s - job?’ If asked the second, most Japanese will simply name the company they work for with no indication if they are a janitor for the company or the president, or they will simply say they are a salaryman. These questions seem so innocuous to me, but in Japan the answers can quickly place someone in a certain societal position or strata. It can be used to judge someone quickly and often unfairly.
I better get back to work. I am preparing a lesson on directions: up, down, over, under, etc. Before I go, though, let me include my favorite Japanized-English phrase so far. Stewart and I were walking past a department store when I saw a sign for a ‘Retro Future Sale.’ Make of that what you will.
- Jenny
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Happy Mother's Day!
Happy Mother's Day to all of the moms, aunts, grandmas, godmothers - really to all the women reading my blog. You are respected, appreciated, and loved.
- Jenny
- Jenny
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Missed It By _That_ Much!
Japan’s Golden Week – a glorious span of four national holidays in one week.
We start with April 29, Showa Day. Showa Day celebrates the birthday of former Emperor Showa; or as we in the West know him, Hirohito; the reigning emperor before, during, and after World War II, which when you think about it is quite a period in history.
Side note – According to Stewart, if the average Japanese citizen was asked the name of the current Emperor, most wouldn’t know. He is simply referred to as ‘The Emperor.’
Next is May 3rd, Constitution Memorial Day. I can’t believe I forgot this one in my last post. According to Wikipedia, this is the only day the National Diet Building – Japan’s version of Congress - is open to the public. Maybe next year, I’ll check that out.
May 4th is only a national holiday by a technicality. Japanese law states that any day that falls between two holidays becomes a holiday in it’s own right. So, May 4th has been designated Greenery Day. It’s a day to commune with nature.
And May 5th is the previously mentioned Children’s Day, a day to respect children’s personalities and celebrate their happiness. Until recently, May 5th was known as Boys’ Day while March 3rd – my birthday – was Girls’ Day. This was changed to the inclusive Children’s Day as it was deemed inappropriate that Boys’ Day was celebrated as a national holiday while Girls’ Day was not. So, March 3rd became the Japanese Doll Festival.
The lesson of this long history lesson is the fact that I had a four day weekend to enjoy. Saturday, Nobie, Stewart, and I walked to the nearby Country Park, a quaintly named large park on the grounds of the Kumamoto Prefectural Agricultural Center. There was a beautiful flower garden that shows promise for the upcoming Rose Festival in a few weeks. It also had a fantastic collection of children’s’ playground equipment, all of which to Stewart and my disappointment, had signs saying ‘Adults Not Allowed.’
Sunday was an especially lazy day, but as the evening cooled, Stewart and I walked to the grounds of the Kyushu Agricultural Center. We talked about how surprisingly comforting the sight of newly planted corn fields and smell of cow manure was. It’s odd how these fields are located smack dab in the middle of town. One moment, I’m walking past convenience stores and fast food shops, and a with a quick left, I’m surrounded by fields and barns full of livestock. I’m anxious to enjoy firefly season, or as us Kansans might call them, lightning bugs. Apparently, this is such a collectivist culture that even the lightning bugs flash in unison. Cool, huh?
Monday, the weather had cooled slightly and threatened rain, so Stewart I visited the Kumamoto Prefectural Art Museum, which had an Egyptian exhibition featuring the discoveries of a Japanese archeologist who has spent the past 40 years digging in Egypt. More than ever, I am determined to visit the Great Pyramids and the Sphinx before I die. The pieces we saw in this exhibition were simply breathtaking.
Another exhibition we viewed at the museum featured artifacts and historical documents from the Hosokawa collection. The Hosokawas are an ancient aristocratic family from the Kumamoto area. The Hosokawa clan ruled the Kyushu area for centuries and to this day are still a very powerful family in Japan – like the Sedgwicks or the Vanderbilts, I suppose. The reigning Hosokawa lord, Morihiro Hosokawa, was Japan’s 79th Prime Minister. The collection featured a variety of armor worn by Hosokawa lords in their military endeavors as well as their swords, paintings of the Hosokawa lords from the 13th century on, and perhaps more quietly impressive – written manuscripts, the earliest dating to the 11th century. That’s five hundred years before Shakespeare. Can you imagine having something like that in your family basement?
My introduction to Hosokawa history proved useful as the next day Stewart and I went to one of Kumamoto’s more famous landmarks, Suizenji Jojuen, or The Garden of Elegance. This park was built in the 1600’s and began as the vacation house for the Hosokawas. The family temple and mausoleum are there as well as a beautiful park that is landscaped to represent the 53 views along the Tokaido, the old highway between Kyoto and what is now Tokyo. It’s really remarkable. I reverted to my old self and forgot to take my camera, but I promise to go back soon to fully document the experience for you all.
That night, we grilled outside. In Japan, they call it ‘barbequing,’ but as Nobie was speaking with a Texas boy and a Kansas girl, we had to correct her. Unless it’s slow and low, it’s grilling. Whatever you call though, it was one of the most delicious meals I’ve had since coming here and there has been quite a bit of competition for that title. Over a large ceramic pot filled with glowing coals, we grilled kebobs of chicken and onion, pork sausages on bones for convenient handling, thinly sliced beef, salmon, pumpkin – my contribution to the meal, eringi mushrooms, fresh sweet corn, and bean sprouts. I know that sounds like a lot of food, and to be honest, it was. We’re still eating leftovers. It was delicious though, and we all saved room for dessert. Smores! I can’t tell you how long it has been since I’ve roasted marshmallows over a fire for smores.
It was back to work on Wednesday, however. And now, there are no more holidays or days off from work until July 18th – the beginning of summer break and my month-long vacation.
Well, I promised a post in 24 hours and I’m about 10 minutes late, so I guess I’ll end this here. Thanks again for reading.
- Jenny
We start with April 29, Showa Day. Showa Day celebrates the birthday of former Emperor Showa; or as we in the West know him, Hirohito; the reigning emperor before, during, and after World War II, which when you think about it is quite a period in history.
Side note – According to Stewart, if the average Japanese citizen was asked the name of the current Emperor, most wouldn’t know. He is simply referred to as ‘The Emperor.’
Next is May 3rd, Constitution Memorial Day. I can’t believe I forgot this one in my last post. According to Wikipedia, this is the only day the National Diet Building – Japan’s version of Congress - is open to the public. Maybe next year, I’ll check that out.
May 4th is only a national holiday by a technicality. Japanese law states that any day that falls between two holidays becomes a holiday in it’s own right. So, May 4th has been designated Greenery Day. It’s a day to commune with nature.
And May 5th is the previously mentioned Children’s Day, a day to respect children’s personalities and celebrate their happiness. Until recently, May 5th was known as Boys’ Day while March 3rd – my birthday – was Girls’ Day. This was changed to the inclusive Children’s Day as it was deemed inappropriate that Boys’ Day was celebrated as a national holiday while Girls’ Day was not. So, March 3rd became the Japanese Doll Festival.
The lesson of this long history lesson is the fact that I had a four day weekend to enjoy. Saturday, Nobie, Stewart, and I walked to the nearby Country Park, a quaintly named large park on the grounds of the Kumamoto Prefectural Agricultural Center. There was a beautiful flower garden that shows promise for the upcoming Rose Festival in a few weeks. It also had a fantastic collection of children’s’ playground equipment, all of which to Stewart and my disappointment, had signs saying ‘Adults Not Allowed.’
Sunday was an especially lazy day, but as the evening cooled, Stewart and I walked to the grounds of the Kyushu Agricultural Center. We talked about how surprisingly comforting the sight of newly planted corn fields and smell of cow manure was. It’s odd how these fields are located smack dab in the middle of town. One moment, I’m walking past convenience stores and fast food shops, and a with a quick left, I’m surrounded by fields and barns full of livestock. I’m anxious to enjoy firefly season, or as us Kansans might call them, lightning bugs. Apparently, this is such a collectivist culture that even the lightning bugs flash in unison. Cool, huh?
Monday, the weather had cooled slightly and threatened rain, so Stewart I visited the Kumamoto Prefectural Art Museum, which had an Egyptian exhibition featuring the discoveries of a Japanese archeologist who has spent the past 40 years digging in Egypt. More than ever, I am determined to visit the Great Pyramids and the Sphinx before I die. The pieces we saw in this exhibition were simply breathtaking.
Another exhibition we viewed at the museum featured artifacts and historical documents from the Hosokawa collection. The Hosokawas are an ancient aristocratic family from the Kumamoto area. The Hosokawa clan ruled the Kyushu area for centuries and to this day are still a very powerful family in Japan – like the Sedgwicks or the Vanderbilts, I suppose. The reigning Hosokawa lord, Morihiro Hosokawa, was Japan’s 79th Prime Minister. The collection featured a variety of armor worn by Hosokawa lords in their military endeavors as well as their swords, paintings of the Hosokawa lords from the 13th century on, and perhaps more quietly impressive – written manuscripts, the earliest dating to the 11th century. That’s five hundred years before Shakespeare. Can you imagine having something like that in your family basement?
My introduction to Hosokawa history proved useful as the next day Stewart and I went to one of Kumamoto’s more famous landmarks, Suizenji Jojuen, or The Garden of Elegance. This park was built in the 1600’s and began as the vacation house for the Hosokawas. The family temple and mausoleum are there as well as a beautiful park that is landscaped to represent the 53 views along the Tokaido, the old highway between Kyoto and what is now Tokyo. It’s really remarkable. I reverted to my old self and forgot to take my camera, but I promise to go back soon to fully document the experience for you all.
That night, we grilled outside. In Japan, they call it ‘barbequing,’ but as Nobie was speaking with a Texas boy and a Kansas girl, we had to correct her. Unless it’s slow and low, it’s grilling. Whatever you call though, it was one of the most delicious meals I’ve had since coming here and there has been quite a bit of competition for that title. Over a large ceramic pot filled with glowing coals, we grilled kebobs of chicken and onion, pork sausages on bones for convenient handling, thinly sliced beef, salmon, pumpkin – my contribution to the meal, eringi mushrooms, fresh sweet corn, and bean sprouts. I know that sounds like a lot of food, and to be honest, it was. We’re still eating leftovers. It was delicious though, and we all saved room for dessert. Smores! I can’t tell you how long it has been since I’ve roasted marshmallows over a fire for smores.
It was back to work on Wednesday, however. And now, there are no more holidays or days off from work until July 18th – the beginning of summer break and my month-long vacation.
Well, I promised a post in 24 hours and I’m about 10 minutes late, so I guess I’ll end this here. Thanks again for reading.
- Jenny
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Is Anyone There?
A hundred apologies for the delay in posting. The last four days have been national holidays - one was Children's Day and another the Emperor's Birthday, I think. I'm not really sure what the other two were.
Anyway, I've been sleeping in in the mornings, watching a Korean history drama in the evenings with Nobie, and spending my days as a wide-eyed tourist in Kumamoto with Stewart and Nobie as my guides. Of course, that means that I didn't get much done for work and have been spending my free time today working on my materials for my classes next week and I've had to put off writing this blog.
I promise I'll have another post up soon, however. In fact, check back tomorrow - same bat time, same bat channel - to hear all about my travels of Kumamoto. It'll have culture. It'll have good food. It'll even have the sweet smell of cow manure.
-Jenny
Remember to check out my photo albums at Flickr.com . Just search people for 'jennimcd' and you should find me.
Anyway, I've been sleeping in in the mornings, watching a Korean history drama in the evenings with Nobie, and spending my days as a wide-eyed tourist in Kumamoto with Stewart and Nobie as my guides. Of course, that means that I didn't get much done for work and have been spending my free time today working on my materials for my classes next week and I've had to put off writing this blog.
I promise I'll have another post up soon, however. In fact, check back tomorrow - same bat time, same bat channel - to hear all about my travels of Kumamoto. It'll have culture. It'll have good food. It'll even have the sweet smell of cow manure.
-Jenny
Remember to check out my photo albums at Flickr.com . Just search people for 'jennimcd' and you should find me.
Friday, May 2, 2008
Life Is A Highway...
…and I’m going to drive in the left lane all night long.
Cause they seem to get mad when I drive on the right. Yes, that’s right. They were crazy enough to let me loose behind the wheel here in Japan.
When I got my International Driver’s Permit a few weeks before I came over here, I told everyone that I had absolutely no intention on driving here, and curiously enough, I was being entirely truthful at the time. I simply got the permit to have another form of photo ID. It was also just crazy easy to obtain. With a U.S. Driver’s License and 15 dollars, it can take as little as 10 minutes to get a permit that will allow you to drive almost anywhere in the world for an entire year. Don’t they know that most of the world, including Japan, drive on the wrong side of the road? I would like to go on the record as saying I don’t think this is a very good idea. Now that I’ve put my thoughts on the record… off the record, wheeeee! I’m driving!
How did this happen, you might ask? Well, a friend of Nobie’s was buying a new car and wanted to get rid of his old one. And unlike the US, there is not a very big market for used cars here in Japan. Something about inheriting another person’s bad karma… Anyway, when he heard that I could use a car, he simply offered to give it to me since he wouldn’t get anything in trade-in value. I just needed to buy the car insurance and pay the tags and registration when it expires in June and I’ve got myself a car.
Nobie and I met with the insurance agent Wednesday evening – he just happened to be the uncle of the man giving me the car – and the moment I handed over the money and received the receipt, I was officially insured and legally okayed to drive my car.
I’m not completely reckless, though. I didn’t just hop behind the wheel and say, “So, I’m supposed to be in the left lane, right?” The day before, Stewart had taken me out to a small rural area near the Ariake Sea so I could practice with an experienced driver to guide me. And in all honesty, driving on the left side of the road isn’t that big of a deal. It’s the fact that the steering wheel is on the left side and all of the gears and controls are flipped around. Whenever I wanted to flip on my turn signal, the windshield wipers would come on. I didn’t realize just how ingrained some physical habits can be. Even though intellectually I knew the lever I wanted was on the right side of the wheel, I had the hardest time trying to stop myself from going to the left side for it.
Stewart said I did okay however, so the next day when I got my car, I had received the official Johnson Seal of Approval to drive by myself… as long as I stayed in the rural areas of Kikuchi and did my best to avoid busy areas like downtown Kumamoto. And that’s fine with me. It’s incredibly odd to use so much concentration and thought on something that I have been doing for more than 10 years now, without much thought. I’ll drive back and forth to work and maybe to a grocery store once in a while, but for anything else, I am perfectly happy to let someone else drive. Well, that and the fact that gas is $1.36 per liter, which for a moment sounds pretty good, but when converted out of that silly metric system, is a about $6.50. Yikes.
Other than the flipped gears and control, the driving on the wrong side of the road, and the insane price of gas: Japan has done more to make things difficult for drivers. Streets don’t have names. That’s right. No names. So how in the world can one expect to find anything? To listen to someone give directions, it sounds something like this: ‘Turn right after you pass the JA gas station on the left side of the road. Go about five minutes and you’ll see a big yellow grocery store on the right side of the road. Turn left there and go about 10 minutes. When you see a electrical pole with a blue sign on it, immediately turn left and there it is.”
What they won’t tell you is that after you pass the JA gas station, there are two small roads that look more like alleys than roads that you need to pass before turning right at a larger road. Then the road that you travel for 10 minutes splits about three times. The first time, you need to take the smaller road: then the next two times, you need to stay on the larger one. Maps don’t reflect these things, either. And even the highways and routes that are assigned a number don’t really have road signs. If you turn onto Route 139, it’s going to split several times without any sign to indicate which way Route 139 goes. It’s a miracle anyone can get anywhere. The Japanese seem to have the idea that if you don’t know exactly where you are going, you don’t belong there.
I have driven to work for two days and each time got semi-lost, or at least not on the road that I was supposed to be on. And usually, just as I’m looking for a place to stop and ask directions, I look up and see my destination right in front of me. If anyone needed convincing that God protects fools and little children…
- Jenny
Cause they seem to get mad when I drive on the right. Yes, that’s right. They were crazy enough to let me loose behind the wheel here in Japan.
When I got my International Driver’s Permit a few weeks before I came over here, I told everyone that I had absolutely no intention on driving here, and curiously enough, I was being entirely truthful at the time. I simply got the permit to have another form of photo ID. It was also just crazy easy to obtain. With a U.S. Driver’s License and 15 dollars, it can take as little as 10 minutes to get a permit that will allow you to drive almost anywhere in the world for an entire year. Don’t they know that most of the world, including Japan, drive on the wrong side of the road? I would like to go on the record as saying I don’t think this is a very good idea. Now that I’ve put my thoughts on the record… off the record, wheeeee! I’m driving!
How did this happen, you might ask? Well, a friend of Nobie’s was buying a new car and wanted to get rid of his old one. And unlike the US, there is not a very big market for used cars here in Japan. Something about inheriting another person’s bad karma… Anyway, when he heard that I could use a car, he simply offered to give it to me since he wouldn’t get anything in trade-in value. I just needed to buy the car insurance and pay the tags and registration when it expires in June and I’ve got myself a car.
Nobie and I met with the insurance agent Wednesday evening – he just happened to be the uncle of the man giving me the car – and the moment I handed over the money and received the receipt, I was officially insured and legally okayed to drive my car.
I’m not completely reckless, though. I didn’t just hop behind the wheel and say, “So, I’m supposed to be in the left lane, right?” The day before, Stewart had taken me out to a small rural area near the Ariake Sea so I could practice with an experienced driver to guide me. And in all honesty, driving on the left side of the road isn’t that big of a deal. It’s the fact that the steering wheel is on the left side and all of the gears and controls are flipped around. Whenever I wanted to flip on my turn signal, the windshield wipers would come on. I didn’t realize just how ingrained some physical habits can be. Even though intellectually I knew the lever I wanted was on the right side of the wheel, I had the hardest time trying to stop myself from going to the left side for it.
Stewart said I did okay however, so the next day when I got my car, I had received the official Johnson Seal of Approval to drive by myself… as long as I stayed in the rural areas of Kikuchi and did my best to avoid busy areas like downtown Kumamoto. And that’s fine with me. It’s incredibly odd to use so much concentration and thought on something that I have been doing for more than 10 years now, without much thought. I’ll drive back and forth to work and maybe to a grocery store once in a while, but for anything else, I am perfectly happy to let someone else drive. Well, that and the fact that gas is $1.36 per liter, which for a moment sounds pretty good, but when converted out of that silly metric system, is a about $6.50. Yikes.
Other than the flipped gears and control, the driving on the wrong side of the road, and the insane price of gas: Japan has done more to make things difficult for drivers. Streets don’t have names. That’s right. No names. So how in the world can one expect to find anything? To listen to someone give directions, it sounds something like this: ‘Turn right after you pass the JA gas station on the left side of the road. Go about five minutes and you’ll see a big yellow grocery store on the right side of the road. Turn left there and go about 10 minutes. When you see a electrical pole with a blue sign on it, immediately turn left and there it is.”
What they won’t tell you is that after you pass the JA gas station, there are two small roads that look more like alleys than roads that you need to pass before turning right at a larger road. Then the road that you travel for 10 minutes splits about three times. The first time, you need to take the smaller road: then the next two times, you need to stay on the larger one. Maps don’t reflect these things, either. And even the highways and routes that are assigned a number don’t really have road signs. If you turn onto Route 139, it’s going to split several times without any sign to indicate which way Route 139 goes. It’s a miracle anyone can get anywhere. The Japanese seem to have the idea that if you don’t know exactly where you are going, you don’t belong there.
I have driven to work for two days and each time got semi-lost, or at least not on the road that I was supposed to be on. And usually, just as I’m looking for a place to stop and ask directions, I look up and see my destination right in front of me. If anyone needed convincing that God protects fools and little children…
- Jenny
Monday, April 28, 2008
What You Wish For
Before I came to Japan, some of you might recall my excitement at the prospect of finally being considered exotic. Well, exotic I now am, and as usual, it’s not exactly what I planned.
This point was driven home in my first few minutes of my first full day at work. I had just entered the school and was placing my shoes in my locker – we have to wear special shoes for inside use – when three first grade boys passed by and stopped dead in their tracks when they saw me. They stood motionless for a moment, so I smiled and said hello. Suddenly, the boy in the middle pointed at me and started to yelp excitedly, ‘Eigojin! Eigojin!” (That means English person.) This continued for about 20 seconds - which sounds like a short period of time unless you actually have a young child yelling and pointing at you like you are a monkey in a zoo in which case I can tell you it, it feels like an eternity. Though I will admit to being probably slightly more amused at the whole spectacle than a monkey would be.
On the other end of the spectrum, I was having lunch with a fourth grade class the other day and as they were getting things ready, a girl approached me with a piece of paper and a pencil. With her little bit of English and my limited Japanese, I figured out that she was asking for me to sign my name on the scrap of paper. As my Mom will attest, my signature is completely illegible, so it took quite some concentration to write it clearly. Then, of course, all of the kids in the class started to scramble for a piece of paper and clamber for my signature as if I was some sort of rock star. This began as a slightly more flattering illustration of my exoticism, but ended on a more annoying note as I struggled to sign all thirty to forty pieces of paper while maintaining some legibility.
So the lesson, kids - be careful what you wish for. I wanted to be exotic, but didn’t realize I was coming to a country where exotic isn't as celebrated as it is in America. There is an old Japanese saying, “The nail that stands up will get pounded down.” To an American, or at least me, that sounds threatening. To the Japanese, I suppose it is reassuring. While something or someone that is different can be intriguing, they also find it to be faintly discomforting. Americans celebrate the unique. Japanese celebrate the average and ordinary.
That being said, I am enjoying my job teaching these young kids more than I thought could be possible. They are so excited to see me and come to my class. We play games and sing songs and just have a great time. And as I said in one of my earlier posts, I eat lunch with the kids in their classrooms. I rotate between the classes and they treat me as their honored guest. It’s quite fun.
Now, what do you remember of school lunches? Let me tell you, it’s nothing to lunch time in a Japanese elementary school. First, the kids themselves make the lunches in their cooking class, which I have yet to have a chance to visit to my disappointment. Then, a small group of students from each class carry all of the dishes and food to each classroom. There are few things more precious than seeing two little first grade kids dressed in their caps and aprons struggling to carry a bucket full of rice to their class. When they reach their classroom, they set up a small line and serve their classmates. Everyone waits until everyone is sitting down with food before beginning to eat. And these Japanese school children clean their plates, let me tell you. I have yet to see a kid not eat something.
It’s slightly embarrassing, as the first few days I ate with them, I couldn’t finish all of my meal. And I don’t think I was able to convince them that I really did like the food, I was just too full to finish it. I have since learned how to take back what I can’t eat before we start eating. And it is truly funny to see these little kids race back to the food line to grab the mostly rice that I put back.
I have to say that I thought I liked carbs before I came to Japan. I have since realized that I have nothing on these tiny little women and kids. They can eat more rice in one sitting than I can eat all day. It’s incredible. Lunches are usually a combination of soup, rice, salad, a maybe a piece of fish or chicken. Salads almost always feature pickled cucumber, which is kind of weird to be honest, though oddly enough, pretty good. Nobie says that isn't necessarily a Japanese thing in particular, but an example of the Japanese using what is in season and abundant in the area. Perhaps in the winter, I won't be able to find a pickled cucumber if my life depended on it. It's all about the area and the season. Anyway, one day we had a salad or slaw of pickled cucumber, sliced onion, and boiled octopus. Not bad. The soups are almost always a broth with vegetables and tofu, occasionally adding chicken or pork. The other day we had the most delicious egg drop soup I’ve ever had and I made Nobie promise to teach me how to make it.
Other than the school lunches, I do have a few new food experiences to share. Last Monday and Tuesday, some friends of Stewart and Nobie were visiting the are with some of their friends – two American couples and an Indian couple – so both nights we went out to eat. The first night, we went to a Yakitori restaurant where I tried basashi. I hinted at this in my last post, and if any other you looked it up: yes, it really is raw horseflesh. It’s considered a Kumamoto specialty and is usually served, as it was here, as sashimi with a spicy ginger and onion soy sauce. Not only did I eat it and enjoy it, but I would seriously consider ordering it again.
The next night, we went to a restaurant featuring more of an international menu. We had German style sausages, California style pizza, and Mediterranean style squid. It was all delicious. And the intelligent, adult conversation was a welcome relief from eating lunch with young children that I can barely communicate with.
Coming soon – They’re letting me loose on the open road. Watch out Kumamoto.
- Jenny
This point was driven home in my first few minutes of my first full day at work. I had just entered the school and was placing my shoes in my locker – we have to wear special shoes for inside use – when three first grade boys passed by and stopped dead in their tracks when they saw me. They stood motionless for a moment, so I smiled and said hello. Suddenly, the boy in the middle pointed at me and started to yelp excitedly, ‘Eigojin! Eigojin!” (That means English person.) This continued for about 20 seconds - which sounds like a short period of time unless you actually have a young child yelling and pointing at you like you are a monkey in a zoo in which case I can tell you it, it feels like an eternity. Though I will admit to being probably slightly more amused at the whole spectacle than a monkey would be.
On the other end of the spectrum, I was having lunch with a fourth grade class the other day and as they were getting things ready, a girl approached me with a piece of paper and a pencil. With her little bit of English and my limited Japanese, I figured out that she was asking for me to sign my name on the scrap of paper. As my Mom will attest, my signature is completely illegible, so it took quite some concentration to write it clearly. Then, of course, all of the kids in the class started to scramble for a piece of paper and clamber for my signature as if I was some sort of rock star. This began as a slightly more flattering illustration of my exoticism, but ended on a more annoying note as I struggled to sign all thirty to forty pieces of paper while maintaining some legibility.
So the lesson, kids - be careful what you wish for. I wanted to be exotic, but didn’t realize I was coming to a country where exotic isn't as celebrated as it is in America. There is an old Japanese saying, “The nail that stands up will get pounded down.” To an American, or at least me, that sounds threatening. To the Japanese, I suppose it is reassuring. While something or someone that is different can be intriguing, they also find it to be faintly discomforting. Americans celebrate the unique. Japanese celebrate the average and ordinary.
That being said, I am enjoying my job teaching these young kids more than I thought could be possible. They are so excited to see me and come to my class. We play games and sing songs and just have a great time. And as I said in one of my earlier posts, I eat lunch with the kids in their classrooms. I rotate between the classes and they treat me as their honored guest. It’s quite fun.
Now, what do you remember of school lunches? Let me tell you, it’s nothing to lunch time in a Japanese elementary school. First, the kids themselves make the lunches in their cooking class, which I have yet to have a chance to visit to my disappointment. Then, a small group of students from each class carry all of the dishes and food to each classroom. There are few things more precious than seeing two little first grade kids dressed in their caps and aprons struggling to carry a bucket full of rice to their class. When they reach their classroom, they set up a small line and serve their classmates. Everyone waits until everyone is sitting down with food before beginning to eat. And these Japanese school children clean their plates, let me tell you. I have yet to see a kid not eat something.
It’s slightly embarrassing, as the first few days I ate with them, I couldn’t finish all of my meal. And I don’t think I was able to convince them that I really did like the food, I was just too full to finish it. I have since learned how to take back what I can’t eat before we start eating. And it is truly funny to see these little kids race back to the food line to grab the mostly rice that I put back.
I have to say that I thought I liked carbs before I came to Japan. I have since realized that I have nothing on these tiny little women and kids. They can eat more rice in one sitting than I can eat all day. It’s incredible. Lunches are usually a combination of soup, rice, salad, a maybe a piece of fish or chicken. Salads almost always feature pickled cucumber, which is kind of weird to be honest, though oddly enough, pretty good. Nobie says that isn't necessarily a Japanese thing in particular, but an example of the Japanese using what is in season and abundant in the area. Perhaps in the winter, I won't be able to find a pickled cucumber if my life depended on it. It's all about the area and the season. Anyway, one day we had a salad or slaw of pickled cucumber, sliced onion, and boiled octopus. Not bad. The soups are almost always a broth with vegetables and tofu, occasionally adding chicken or pork. The other day we had the most delicious egg drop soup I’ve ever had and I made Nobie promise to teach me how to make it.
Other than the school lunches, I do have a few new food experiences to share. Last Monday and Tuesday, some friends of Stewart and Nobie were visiting the are with some of their friends – two American couples and an Indian couple – so both nights we went out to eat. The first night, we went to a Yakitori restaurant where I tried basashi. I hinted at this in my last post, and if any other you looked it up: yes, it really is raw horseflesh. It’s considered a Kumamoto specialty and is usually served, as it was here, as sashimi with a spicy ginger and onion soy sauce. Not only did I eat it and enjoy it, but I would seriously consider ordering it again.
The next night, we went to a restaurant featuring more of an international menu. We had German style sausages, California style pizza, and Mediterranean style squid. It was all delicious. And the intelligent, adult conversation was a welcome relief from eating lunch with young children that I can barely communicate with.
Coming soon – They’re letting me loose on the open road. Watch out Kumamoto.
- Jenny
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