The End Is Just Another Beginning

Dear Readers,

As of today, October 11th at 11:26am, I am officially ending the posts to this website and migrating. It has been a good year on Kyoto Kanji, but as my Fulbright year has ended, so too must this blog. But do not despair! If you would like to continue to read about Japan and my adventures in East Asia, please change your bookmark to soycube.
Thank you for your support this year and I hope to read comments from you in the future.
Laura

Awkward Pauses

I have now met up with approximately twenty friends from my life before Japan. It's sad, but I can judge just how good of friends we were from the ensuing conversations. Of twenty:

Three wanted to hear everything. It was just like I had never neglected to email them for a year.
Five wanted to hear highlights and to ensure that I was happy.
Ten were satisfied with the "How was Japan?" "Great!" exchange.
And two had to be reminded I was in the room.

But there were others who also surprised me with the sincerity of their remarks, despite the brevity. There's nothing like time away to put life and friends in perspective.

Issues I Can't Handle

Returning to the United States is depressing. Let me tell you why. In Japan, I am a tall, white, not skinny person. But that's okay, because I am surrounded by short, unhealthily skinny Japanese women who do not eat. I don't worry that I don't fit into the clothing or I take up twice as much space on the sidewalk because the attitudes toward body and appearance in Japan are crazy and unrealistic.

However, I come home to the US and all of a sudden there are people who look like me wearing all sorts of skimpy, stylish clothing and somehow it fits them. Why are the white people Asian-size skinny? I go into a store and try on some of that style clothing on only to find that the size I used to wear has been reassigned a number three sizes larger and looks a whole lot ridiculous.

How is that the US as a whole has a major obesity problem, but all the clothing I try on is too small? And don't tell me, oh Laura, you've probably put on a little weight from eating all that rice. Oh no, it's quite the opposite. But seriously, most people go to Japan and become upset and depressed that they can't fit into tiny Japanese sizes. I come home and hate it that I can't find a decent pair of pants in my size.

So I wonder, what exactly is the weight problem in the US? I think it's a double-edged sword situation; the large are getting larger and the small are getting smaller. And those of a stuck in the middle are just screwed.

Beantown Tours

For me, Boston is a city filled with memories. There are quite a few places that I frequented or happened upon during my four year residence here. For the past two days I have been reliving these memories and their backdrop. Wherever I go I get the eerie sense that everything is the same and everything is different all at once.

I started out this morning in the North End. My friend Damien and I went to see if the Big Dig construction had been finished. It wasn't, but at least the quaint Italian neighborhoods are no longer obstructed by enormous elevated highways. We stopped in at Old North Church where we both learned, to our surprise, that Paul Revere himself did not climb that steeple and light those lanterns. No, he delegated that duty to the steward of the Church, Robert Newman, who was arrested for his small, but important, part in the Revolutionary War. I couldn't help taking a picture of the pews which were built with high walls, presumably to keep in the heat during cold winters. I believe these pews could be considered the forerunners of the cubicle.

After consuming the most decadent chocolate brownie I have ever eaten, courtesy of Mike's Pastry, we strolled down to the waterfront, admiring Boston Harbor on a foggy morning. Fog is something I feel like I don't experience in Japan very often. Somehow the contours of the land around Kyoto only allow for the intake of humidity. But fog in Boston covers the unslightly construction and transports the city back a few centuries to when there were no skyscrapers or shiny glass buildings. In the midst of white vapor, Boston once again becomes a colonial town.

Wandering around downtown, I began to feel one of the major differences between social interaction in Japan and the United States. In Japan, when I pass someone on the street I immediately avert my eyes and stare at the space directly next to them, and they do the same. It is very rare to meet anyone's eyes. Here, I am disconcerted as one after another people look me over and meet my eyes as I walk passed them. I don't know whether I should be looking back or looking away.

As the day wore down, I turned back toward Chrystina's apartment in the Fens. I admired the brownstones I love so much and took a picture of an intersting colored one. Maybe someday I'll come back to Boston and live in a restored brownstone. Who knows?

I knew something had to be weird

I walked into the Louisville, Kentucky airport to hear this announcement:

"Passengers who have not done so, please do."

And then, I walked to my gate, A14. I walked past A11 and A12 and immediately proceded to A14. The Louisville Airport does not have a gate A13. I thought these superstitions disappeared a long time ago.

Changes

You may not think it's awfully short, but I got ten inches cut off. This is the shortest my hair has been since I was three years old. When it's all dry and curly it falls just past my shoulders.

Sourthern Hospitality

Louisville, Kentucky is a city on the southern bank of the Ohio River. It is home to Churchill Downs of Kentucky Derby fame, the largest Victorian architecture historic district in the country, and my good friend Jill. Jill lives in the historic distric in a three story, six bedroom, original hardwood floored, nine fireplace, soon to be restored historic house with her Egyptian cat, William. William likes to attack his toys and your hands with vigor and then apologize by curling up on your feet while you're going to the bathroom.

I took a leisurely bike ride around the area this morning and was awed by house after magnificent house built of solid brick and limestone with expressive arched doors and columns. Old Louisville is a beautiful place. The people are real friendly-like too. I got three hello's and had a little conversation with an aspiring author on my tour this morning. Even just across the river it seems that southern hospitality is alive and well.

Surprise suprise

Today I did something that I told every single person I have ever met that I would never ever do. But you'll have to wait to find out what it is.

* A cookie to the person who can guess.

Country Mouse returns home

This weekend I took a trip out to the countryside of Indiana and Ohio, where houses dot the expanses of corn, soybean, and wheat fields.

It was my cousin's birthday, and her family took her to an Amish restaurant for dinner followed by a buggy ride. I passed on the dinner (which everyone said was delicious) and arrived just in time to hop up into the little three person buggy for a short jog down the road. Dave, the Amish grandpa who was driving, told us little jokes and let my cousin drive. It was nice experience. There are quite a few Amish in the area near Fort Wayne, and it was good to meet a few in person.

Most of the Ohio relatives came over for my cousin's birthday party, and I got to catch up on all the news: who's had another baby, who's bought a house, who's engaged...I tell you, there is something in the Ohio water that makes people get married and pop out the babies before the age of 23. As an Indiana girl, I'm planning on holding off until, say, 30. This doesn't make the grandparents happy..

Anyway, it was a nice weekend. I loved the fact that I could drive down the road and there were no mountains anywhere. It was all so open and unconstricting. Actually, the other day there was a storm passing and the clouds settled on the horizon in such a way that made it look like I was back in Kyoto walking down the street toward a huge wall of mountains. For a second I was scared that it had all been a dream. But no, the drying corn stalks in the fields are still rustling in the wind.

The Truth Hurts

For quite some time now, I have been a Japan enthusiast. I come home and I tell people, "Japan is great!" I write on this blog, "Japan is so much better than the US!" And in many ways, I completely believe this. Even coming back to the US for awhile and eating the food, which is half the price of food in Japan (except tofu), and driving the cars on big wide roads where there are no mountains to block the view, I am glad that I will go back to Japan. Because I like living there.

However, in my time on vacation, I thought I'd do some reading about Japan that I don't get to do so often in Japan. So I went to the library and checked out some books about the history, culture, and society of Japan, just to see what other people were saying about it.

And I found this book - Dogs and Demons: Tales from the Dark Side of Modern Japan, by Alex Kerr. Mr. Kerr is a well known author on Japan, and I thought he'd come out with a new book on old stories or something. But no. This is truth. This is mind-boggling, fear-inducing truth. I am almost scared to return to Japan. Why?

Japan cements in rivers and builds dams because they need to use money.
Japan hasn't updated their toxic waste policy since the 1960's.
Japan's banks are bankrupt, but in order to save face, they stay open.
Japan's nuclear power plants have safety procedures that involve people looking through windows to see if everything is "ok."
And there's so much more...

I thought the US was worse than Japan.
Everyone thinks that Japan is on top of technology.
I think we might have all been fooled.

That being said, I still like living in Japan. I just think I'll be buying bottled water, instead of drinking out of the tap from now on. And not living near a nuclear power plant.

What moment in time?

I thought that after having been in Japan for one full year my culture shock in coming back to the United States would be pretty severe. Suprisingly, it really hasn't been. Other than the driving and speaking English all the time, things seem pretty comfortable. I was trying to figure out why this might be, and I believe I've come up with an answer.

The last time I was in Japan I hung out with American friends pretty often, but we relied mostly on the Japanese way of doing things. This time, I knew my way around Kyoto; I knew where I could buy cheap foreign goods, I knew how to cook them, I knew where to get English language books, and I spent more time with American friends. I think that even this little extra bit of my home culture mixed in to Japan made it easier for me to adjust when I got home this time.

Of course, there were exceptions. For example, this weekend was Fort Wayne's annual Johnny Appleseed Festival. The last festival of the summer, this two day even marks the apple season with the celebration of pioneer days in Indiana. All of the things being sold are hand-made crafts, everyone selling things is dressed up in settler costumes, and most of the food is cooked over fires. It had been a good five years since I had been to this festival, and I was struck with such an odd feeling of being out of place - not only was I in the wrong country, I was in the wrong time period!

In any case, I've been home now for five days and I am competely adjusted to the time, the food (mostly), the driving, and the English speaking on television only startles me for a second now.

Seasons change

When I left Kyoto the temperature was a steamy 90 degrees F. Arriving in Fort Wayne, it was only ten degrees cooler. Three days later, however, the temperature has plummeted to 59 degrees. I had forgotten that fall comes much sooner to this area of the world.

I'lll be doing this again tomorrow

I've been complaining to my mother about how Americans use so much energy, particularly gas, when all they have to do is walk a little. And so today, I decided to park the car and do some of my errands on foot. It turned out to be a confidence boosting experience; in the ten minutes it took me to walk from the Post Office to the Library, I got whistled at three times.

Home, Sweet, Home

For your information: If you ever have to chose between flying JAL or Northwest between Japan and the US, by all means, fly JAL. It's not that Northwest is bad, it's that JAL is so much better.

My twelve hour flight home was non-eventful. That is, it was downright boring. Eight hours into the flight I had already finished my book and magazine and watched all three of the inflight movies. What do you do with four hours of time on an airplane when you aren't allowing yourself to sleep?

So now I am back in the US. People here are bigger, less polite, more to the point, and nosier. The land is flat and there are no mountains to be seen. Cars drive on the right side of the road.

My mother took me out to lunch.
-I forgot that such a thing as taking your leftovers home existed.
-I forgot that tipping is necessary.
-I tried to take the bill to the register on the way out, which is how it is in most restaurants in Japan, but my mother gave me a strange look and paid the waitress at our table.

This country is going to take some getting used to.

We are prepared for Takeoff

I'm leaving in fifteen minutes for the airport.
I'm just going to pack up my computer, haul my stuff down the stairs and wait for the people to come and pick me up.
Am I ready to go home? I think so.
Am I worried whether all my stuff will be here when I get back? A bit.
Am I dreading twelve hours without my own personal screen on the seatback? Absolutely. Dang Northwest Airlines and their main cabin movies...

My friends are famous

The director of the Japan Fulbright Commission, David Satterwhite, a.k.a the man who gave me money, was on BBC last night commenting on the effects of the Japanese election on Asian business.

I am always astounded when people I know are on tv, especially on BBC world television. Apparently, I know some people in high places.

Clarification and Explanation

Looking back on my last month of entries, I realized that I never clearly explained what it is that I will be doing in the near future. Although many of my readers are also frequent recipients of emails from me, some of you may be wondering about what this "leaving, coming back" thing is about.

Therefore, "Laura's Plans for the Future:"

1. Sept. 13 - Nov. 1 : The U.S. - Indiana, Ohio, Kentucky, Boston. Visiting, reminiscing, catching up. Interspersed with studying.
2. Nov.1 - Dec. 4 : Japan - Intensive Japanese study in preparation for the highest level of the Japanese Proficiency Japan.
3. Dec. 4 - Feb. 10 : Japan - Intensive study in preparation for entrance exam into Kyoto University's Graduate School, History Department.
4. Feb.10 - Mar. 1 : Waiting for results of said test.
5. If I pass, I will be in Kyoto for another two years until I have comepleted the master's program.
6. If I do not pass, I have no idea what I will be doing.

All plans subject to change, except for returning to Japan on Nov. 1. That's a non-refundable plane ticket.

Sayonara Sale

Today I had my last lunch with the last of the Kyoto Fulbrighters. Katie and Dave leave tomorrow for adventures in South East Asia, and I leave for home.

I'm kind of in a weird position when it comes to leaving. My friends have all been dealing with packing, massive accumulation of things, turning of utilites, closing out accounts, etc. In all fairness, I should be doing these things too. But no, my house and all the things in it will stay as they are. I have closed no bank accounts, I have not boxed up one item.

The fact that I am coming back fairly soon makes the job of leaving quite easy for me. In a sense, I guess it makes it easier for my friends too, who can dump off all the stuff they can't take back with them at my house. As my house is already a suppository of years of left behinds, a little more can't hurt! And so I gained bookshelves, a kotatsu, dishes, cleaning supplies, food, plants, books, and all sorts of randomness. So while everyone else is busy packing, I am busy sorting out what they gave me.

I think it's odd for all our friends too. It is highly unlikely that they will see Katie and Dave again anytime in the next two years, but I'll be back in two months. And yet, we're leaving at the same time.

Anyway, this is a meandering post, as it reflects a meandering thought process: I'm leaving, but I'm not. I'm packing, but not too much. I'm bringing presents, but if I forgot something, there will be chances for more. I want to go to my favorite places "one last time," but I doubt they will have gone out of business by the time I get back. It's an odd feeling.

Accomplishment

Today was my debut as a member of a semi-professional music group. I participated in a concert of traditional Japanese music as a member of my koto teacher's studio group. We performed the piece "Yugao," with koto, shamisen, bamboo flute, and kyoko. I can't really say how we sounded, since I was concentrating so hard on not slipping around on the borrowed koto's strings, but I think my mistakes were not horribly obvious. We'll see when I hear Dave's recording of the event..

Anyway, I feel proud of being the only foreigner performing, in a yukata I made, and a mere two days before I leave the country. As my koto teacher said, "It's a great memory to have a made."

Where do they come up with these uniforms?

As promised from my day at the beach, here is a picture of a Japanese lifeguard on Kobe's Suma Beach. Particularly note the lettered spandex and the beanie hat secured with elastic.

Three Days

Things I'll miss (even just for 1.5 months):

-Evening bike rides by the river
-Bowing, smiling, overly helpful sales clerks
-Onigiri
-Being able to ride my bicycle anywhere, anytime
-Curry donuts and an-pan
-Friends who think karaoke is fun and not wierd
-The smell of incense from the nearby cemetary
-On time trains and buses (not to mention clean)
-My cell phone
-Japanese television shows
-The absence of open container laws
-Being able to see over a crowd of people

Later in the Evening

sunset after the storm
my eyes see orange, but my camera thinks
purple shadows tint the neighborhood

P is for Prepared

I am addicted to world news, particularly the wonderful television stations of BBC and CNN. However, the news lately has been dominated by up to the minute reports about the Hurrican Katrina Evacution, and I am sorry to say it, I am tired of watching it. It's not that I don't symphathize, or I am not astounded, it's just that I know there has to be other things happening in the world that are equally as bad.

Anyway, while looking for something else to watch today, I stumbled across the a special weather program on Japan's weather, particularly Typhoon 14, which is currently covering the entire nation of Japan with its rain and winds. The weatherman put up two pictures on the screen - one of Hurricane Katrina and one of Typhoon 14 - just to compare. Guess what? They are approximately the same size, with the same wind strength, and the same rainfall.

What is the difference, then, between the effects of such a storm on the US and the effects in Japan? Let me give you an example. Massive amounts of rain flooded parts of Tokyo yesterday night as the drainage canals overflowed. Entire streets were flooded up to waist level and many houses were filled almost to the second story. This morning? The water is gone, taken away by efficient storm drains, fire departments with pumps on the scene as soon as the rain stopped, and neighbors helping eachother empty houses bucket by bucket.

Yes, Japan is quite familiar with typhoons and natural disasters in general, so they know how to be prepared. Maybe the US should consider sending some people over here to learn how it's done.

The Meaning of Politics

Prime Minister Koizumi failed trying to pass his Postal Service reform bill. As a consequence, he dissolved the lower house and called for snap elections. They're next week.

What does this mean? It means that every day I am annoyed by any number of politians driving around screaming their good points from loudspeakers.

There's one driving through my neighborhood right now. This woman has taken the distinctive call of the Yaki Imo man and insterted her own name. It is echoing off of the mountains behind my house. If I could vote, I wouldn't vote for Takeda Saoru.

Midnight Snack

It’s so humid right now, at 2am in the morning as I write my research paper, that the crispy graham cracker I unwrapped from its package a mere five minutes ago has become a tender, flexible morsel falling apart in my hand.

Getting Out of Hand

I was watching some American TV last night on cable. There was this scene where a guy was working late at night, and a woman came in to see what he was doing, and he offered her a few slices of pizza. She said no.

I almost cried. I could just taste the pizza in my mouth. How could you reject the cheesy greasy goodness of that pizza? If you don't want it, give it to me!!

See what a year in a cheese deprived country will do to you? Begging food from the television.

Unable to Process your Request

I've been getting quite a few requests for things to be brought back from Japan. This is great because I love to bring things back for people and it makes it so much easier when they tell me just what they want. The problem is "just what they want" has fallen into horribly vague categories.

For example, "I really liked the rice snacks you sent me once." Rice snacks being the operative description for 85% of all snacks produced and eaten in Japan. Senbei, rice crackers with seaweed, with sesame, seasoned, unseasoned, shaped like bugles, circular, spicy, shrimp-flavored, soup flavored, mixed with dried beans, mixed with little dried fish, go well with beer, taste good on a long train ride...Is it that they are so mysterious that a detailed explanation is impossible? Or am I asking too much of my non-Japanese reading friends?

I am more than happy to bring things back for whoever asks, in fact, the more I think about it, the more I realize that half of my luggage will probably end up being gifts for people. So please, request as much as you like. Just be aware that if you can't give me the name, the shape, and the color of the packaging, you may not be getting exactly what you asked for.

Dinner and a Motivation

It's always a toss up whether I am going to enjoy myself or be bored out of my mind when I go visit my advisor emeritus. Today, being the last time that I would be meeting her this year, was no exception.

We started out at her house where she apologized profusely for the fact that she had not conveyed to me all the knowledge she had stored inside her brain. She then attempted to transmit a bit of it, but it only served to remind me of the fact that I know absolutely nothing, comparitively speaking, and the path to scholar-dom is a long and tortuous one. It was at that point that I felt I had absolutely decided that studying in Japan was a lost cause and I should just go back to the States and find some sort of random job.

Then we took a little wander down to Uji where I was treated to my second kaiseki ryori (multiple course Japanese style dinner) meal of the year. I can't even remember all of the dishes, but I do remember my favorite. It was the one I expected to like the least: salted and grilled ayu fish dipped in a green sauce made from leaves. The only part of the fish I did not eat was the head; the rest of it was delicious, especially the tail.

Anyway, my advisor asked me my plans for after the Fulbright ended, and I casually mentioned that I was looking to go to grad school in Japan, and would she be able to recommend any professors? Oh hoh. That got the ball rolling - she's looking into the best places for me to go and she'll give me a call next week.

It's not that I can't do these things for myself. It's just that I have zero connections and getting connections is like pulling teeth. My advisor, however, has been around quite awhile. She has been blessed by the Pope, recieved 3rd century Buddha statues as gifts, her house has enough books to become a freestanding library. She has connections. And with any luck, these connections will be handed to me and I shall have an easier time mucking through the bureaucracy that is the Japanese educational system. I have been rejuvinated.

Midori

Kokedera, "Moss Temple," is the nickname for Saihoji, a small Zen temple in western Kyoto. As its nickname implies, it is famous for moss. It is so famous, in fact, that you have to apply weeks in advance to get in and pay the incredible amount of 3000 yen (~$30).

I had heard great things about this temple from friends and teachers. I had heard that not only do you get to tour the magnificent moss gardens, but you also get to copy sutras. In fact, I heard you were Required to copy sutras. Sounded like fun to me, so I went.

Disappointment #1: We didn't copy sutras. We did write our names and our "Negai goto" (thing we wish for) on a "gomaki" (a stick of wood for writing wishes and names on that will later be burned in a ceremony to release your wishes to the heavens where they can be answered), but I was really hoping for some sutra writing. At least we got to participate in sutra chanting.

Disappointment #2: The moss was a little dry. I guess I was expecting the sort of moss I had seen at Ginkakuji earlier in the year right after the rains. Plants that survive on humidity lose their luster during the dry summer, I know, but I was hoping for a little more green. Not that there was a lack of moss; according to the guide, there are over 150 different kinds of it in the garden.

Disappointment #3: It started to rain on our way into Matsuo Shrine, so we didn't get to wander around, and I didn't get time to try to remember the things I had read about it.

The day was not all disappointing, however. I got to go to a section of Kyoto I rarely see, and it had been awhile since I'd made a temple visit. It was a nice break from the studying.

Counting Down

In 15 days I will be in the United States.
In 15 days I will be eating pizza, steak, cheese, cake, cheesecake, Life cereal, oatmeal, hummus, honey roasted turkey lunchmeat, tacos, burritos, apples, granola bars, hamburgers, hotdogs, and so much more.
In 15 days I will begin a month and a half vacation encompassing friends, family, greyhound buses, Boston, Kentucky, Ohio, Indiana, an alma mater, professors, and driving on the right side of the road.
In 15 days I'll be marveling at the height and girth of Americans, the size of servings, the inconvenience of public transportation, the lack of chopsticks, and my inablity to say "Thank you" in English.
In 15 days I'll be on my way to see you. Tell me when's a good time, or I will be dropping in unexpectedly.

Welcome, welcome

I'm continuously surprised by my house. Or, rather, by the living creatures that visit my house.

Today, as I was watching the news, a weasel casually strutted across my back porch.

Now, I do not live in the countryside. The neighbor's house is a mere six inches from mine. So I believe I am justified in thinking that wildlife has no place on my street. However, here I am with geckos in my room and weasels on my porch.

I'm just waiting for the wild monkeys to come down the mountain to take up residence in my kitchen.

Holiday Weather

I guess it's the fact that the Japanese have lived on this island for a good couple of thousand years that makes them so incredibly accurate at predicting weather patterns. My koto teacher said to me the other day, "Once O-Bon is over the temperature will drop and the nights become cooler."

O-Bon was over three days ago. The day after O-Bon the temperature was three degrees cooler. Yesterday was six degrees cooler than last week. Last night I had to get up in the middle of the night to get a blanket.

I just don't understand how Japanese holidays control the weather.

From Fear to Food

When I was a child I dreaded swimming in an ocean or lake with seaweed. If there were slimy plants around that could potentially brush up against my leg, I wanted no part of it.

But there must be something about living in a country that values seaweed as a food product that has changed my perception.
I'm swimming in the ocean, and a large piece of seaweed floats by. I reach out and grab it.

"Wakame!"
"It looks so tasty."
"It's like we're in a giant bowl of miso soup."
"We should dry it out and take it back as a gift."
"If we're floating in miso soup, I'm the tofu: bright white!"
"Are you getting hungry?"

P.S. As I write this, I am munching on pieces of dried Korean seaweed. So delicious!

"My Boom"

The Japanese have lately come to love using the english word "my" as a fuzzy little adjective that really means something more like "personal or individual." You can buy a "My Car," or a "My House." At frisbee I'm often asked if I brought my "My Disc." But the most overused of this construction is "My Boom." What are you into lately?

Lately, "My Boom" is dancing. And so when my old host family took me to their little neighborhood festival and everyone was doing the O-Bon Odori (O-bon dance). I thought it would be fun to join in.

The tradition of an O-bon Odori goes way back to when the dances were performed as part of the sending away ceremony for the spirits visiting during O-bon. It has been passed down for hundreds of years and is still performed around O-bon by small neighborhoods, although without the context of a religious rite.

The dance is fairly simple. Everyone joins together in a circle and the dance proceeds counterclockwise around and around. The little old ladies taught me the steps and hand gestures using a little song that matches the action. I asked my host father whether the song had anything to do with the meaning of the dance, and this is what he explained.

"The words that describe the actions are actually describing a coal miner's work: Dig it up, dig it up. Throw the sack on your back. Wipe the sweat off your forehead. Push the cart. Sweep it clean." Neither he nor my host mother knew how that explanation came to be used.

Anyway, I learned the dance, and after three or four turns I was dragged up to the platform where everyone could watch the foreigner doing the traditional Japanese dance. My host family is convinced that a picture of me will be in the little neighborhood newspaper next week.

S-P-E-L-L-I-N-G

The Japanese language borrows quite a few words from foreign languages. However, you can't just walk up to someone and say a word and think they'll understand you. Chances are, they might know the word, but you aren't pronouncing it correctly. You must Japanize it. Here's an example from the bar I went to last night.

Barkeep (in japanese): What would you like to drink?
Me: I'll have a White Russian.
B: A what?
M: Wahito rahshian?
B: (blank look)
M: Wahitoh rashion? Wahito rishon? Rishian? Rushan?
B: Oh!! Wahitoh rushion!!

Sometimes I don't understand how a one syllable mistake can make me totally incomprehensable. Try, try again.

Not A Day Goes By

1. I went to the beach down in Kobe today. It was wonderful. The Japanese lifeguards, I mean "Surf Patrol," were wearing speedos and those little tri-colored hats with the whirl-gigs on top, only without the whirlygigs. There will be pictures later.

2. I got back to find a visitor waiting in my room. I gecko had come to visit. It does not bother me that there was a gecko in my room. It bothers me that he was able to get in here.

3. Leslie sent me a very sobering email. The world has lost one of it's greatest proponents for peace, especially peace among religions. Brother Roger, the founder of Taize, an ecumencial Christian community in rural France founded to promote dialogue and understanding, was stabbed to death while attending evening prayer service. Read about it here.

I have been to Taize twice and met with Brother Roger both times. I cannot express how how disturbing it is that this quiet old man who commanded such a presence and yet brought such a sense of peace could be murdered. I am just glad that his last moments were in the church he built surrounded by the people who loved him.

The Mountains Are On Fire

In the middle of August there is a nationwide unofficial national holiday week called O-bon. O-bon is an old Buddhist festival marking the one time a year when the spirits of the dead return to this world to check up on their relatives. The focal point of this tradition is the graves; families return to the countryside to meet up with relatives and visit family graves together. They clean the area, offer flowers and food, and pray for the souls of their ancesters and the safety of their families.

One of the major concerns of the living is that the spirits of the dead will get lost on their way too or from their resting place on this earth. There are many ways of guiding the spirits to your home, but the most important activity is the one to send them back to the other world. There are many festivals involving lanterns set adrift in rivers, lakes, or oceans.

One of the most memorable of the traditions in Kyoto is the "Go-zan Yamayaki," the "Burning of the Five Mountains." There are five mountains surrounding Kyoto onto which five characters have been traced out in fire pits. Once a year, on the 16th of August, the last day of O-bon, all five are lit simultaneously. The characters are:

Dai = big (east)
Hou = law
Myo = mystery, or skill
Fune = boat (not actually a character. it's a picture of a boat)
Dai = big (west)

I am lucky enough to live in a place where I could see four of the five at the same time. Unfortunately, the fifth one went out before I could get to a place to see it.

Dick and Jane Go A-Hunting

I remember reading picture books when I was little where the story involved kids trying to catch butterflies with nets. I think I even saw that sort of thing in old movies. But I can't remember one instance of me or anyone I know grabbing their butterfly net and a lunch pail and going butterfly hunting. Our hands were good enough for whatever insect we wanted to snag.

It seems to me, that when it comes to bug catching, Japanese children live in the Dick and Jane world of butterfly nets and bug cages. Wherever you go during summer vacation you are bound to see at least three kids prowling for insects, their nets at the ready.

Maybe the difference lies in the type of bugs they are catching. My favorites were always lightning bugs, rolly polly bugs, and caterpillars, but in Japan they're aiming for the big stuff: cicadas. I am told that cicadas do not annoy all parts of the United States with their buzzing/humming, but we had them in Indiana. They were elusive creatures, never seen, only heard. The only way you could tell they truly existed was by the shells of skin they left on the trees for you to find in the morning.

But in Japan, they are not only an ever-present hum outside your house, cicadas are also small torpedoes to be avoided when riding your bike, walking your dog, or merely checking your mailbox. And so, the children arm themselves with nets and strong cages, competing as to who can snag the most.

A child was telling his father in the park this morning, "I'm gonna get ten!!" And I could believe it, for in fifteen minutes he had already collected four.

If all else fails, I have a backup dream job

It has been almost one year since I began taking pottery classes. I feel like I learned enough to make a beautiful tea cup, a credible candle holder, and a passable plate. What I really enjoy molding, however, are small flower vases. Why? Maybe it's because whatever shape it turns out to be I can still call it a flower vase, but really I think it's the challenge of changing a simple cylinder into a usable object merely by the slight application of pressure from my fingertips. These are my three favorite. I consider them a sort of set, but each one is a gift for a teacher.

Welcome To My Neighborhood

I have never actually met any of my neighbors. We do the mutual "acknowledgment of existence" head nod if we see each other on the street, but there is rarely a "hello" that passes between us.

Despite this fact, I feel like I know my neighborhood pretty well. I know that the old woman next door gets up at 5:30am. She talks to her dog when she lets him out at 5:45a. I know that the garbage man is always two hours late, and the recycle man is thirty minutes early. I've recently come to realize that the man next door comes home every night at 11:30pm because I can hear the sliding doors on his van. And either the people across the street are very good about beating their dog every evening at 11pm, or that's when they put him in his kennel and he howls in protest.

Living in a such close proximity to people in houses where the walls are paper thin can make one either appreciate privacy or develop an addiction to gossip.

The Benefits of Old Age

The stationmaster is shouting politely on his blowhorn: "There are little children and elderly persons present. Please do not push or shove. Please wait patiently."

I am immediately elbowed out of the way by a 4'5" grey-haired grandma with two grandchildren in tow.

Hanabi Overtime

Yesterday there was a big fireworks show on Lake Biwa. Tomorrow there's one in Uji. This weekend there are a few scattered around Kansai, and next week there will be more. We have officially entered Hanabi Season.

As if there weren't enough national holidays and festivals, the Japanese adopted August as the unofficial month to celebrate summer - with massive amounts of fireworks. In many ways the shows are just like the more traditional festivals: families and friends get together, the girls wear yukata, and everyone lines up for snow cones and meat on a stick at the food stalls. The only difference is that instead of mikoshi, everyone stands ooing and ahhing at the very impressive bursts of fire exploding in the sky.

Last night's show at Lake Biwa was the most amazing fireworks display I have ever seen. It lasted a full hour. But even more impressive was the crowd control that quickly and efficiently shuffled thousands of people onto trains without extreme instances of shoving, screaming, or groping among the masses.

Where the streets have no names

I was just thinking about my address and I realized something that I hadn't noticed before. Most of the streets in Kyoto have no names. Of course the large streets do, 3rd St, 4th St, Kitaoji. But as soon as you turn off of those roads into the neighborhoods, you enter a land where the streets do not have names.

How do people have addresses then? The Prefecture is divided into Cities. The Cities are divided into Wards. The Wards are divided into Areas. The Areas are divided into Towns, and your house has a number. Sometimes in the downtown areas where there are more roads with names, the placement of your house could be described like in Ohio: on road A, just a little past road X.

All of this, however, makes driving directions a little difficult. When I tell people how to get to my house it involves lots of landmarks and counting of intersections. Of course, this is also why most vehicles in Japan have Navigation programs.

In any case, don't ask me how to get to my house. My number one landmark just went out of business.

The Smell of Summer

I love the smell of freshly mown grass. To me, it is the smell of summer. Unfortunately, no one owns a yard in Kyoto. And so, summer in Japan becomes another of those seasons that doesn't seem quite right. Winter has no snow, and summer has no mown grass.

The closest I can come to the smell of summer and the feel of something plant-like under my feet is tatami. Walking into a room with new tatami is like stepping out of your car into haying season. The distinctive fragrance of fresh tatami is overpowering to the point that some people can't be in the room too long with it, but at the same time it conveys a sense of the outdoors that one doesn't usually find in the city. The ban on slippers on tatami also means that inhabitants and visitors usually pad around in their barefeet, getting just a taste of what it's like to run around the front yard with your shoes off.

I am particularly grateful for my tatami room. Although it is too old to smell new, the woven straw still reminds me of my grandfather's hay mow. And whenever I walk across it, I feel just a little bit like I'm stepping onto a summer lawn.

Nowhere to go but down

Japan as a society is becoming more and more worried about Freeters and NEETS. Freeters (pronounced fureetahsu) are people who work part time jobs as their job. NEETs are Not in Education, Employment, or Training. Everyday their numbers increase, and every day there are more and more theories about how their existance came to be.

Some obvious reasons might be that the economy is bad or that companies are laying off more and more workers. I have to agree, however, with those who say that the largest instigator of this phenomenon is the Japanese family system. In particular, I would like to blame Japanese mothers.

Yes, it is true that in order to get into good schools your child must study more than a child should have too, and that the stress caused by the entrance exams is really quite a lot for a ten year old. However, is it necessary for you to bring your child meals, clean their room, and do their regular school homework so that they can study for this test? Do you really feel that it is beneficial to do everything for your child so that they cannot make decisions for themselves and need you to finish their sentences and tell them how to speak properly in social situations?

The fact that the Japanese family is so tight-knit is wonderful, up to a point. The tradition that children live at home until they are married has caused young adults these days to become reliant on their families. There is no need to find a real job, because they can always live with their parents. Everything they need is provided for them; they do not have to struggle for anything.

Japan became the developed country it is now so quickly because of the hard work of the older generation, and the young adults and children today are reaping the benefits. But will this easygoing lifestyle lead to the fall of Japanese society? And is America going the same way?

Super Star!

What happens when you go to frisbee practice for the first time in three months? You get an interview on Japanese TV.

Apparently, this guy from KBS, the local Kyoto station, was doing a little segment on activities going on by the river, and our practice field is by the river. He stopped in with his cameramen, asked us about the game, and then joined in! We played a few modified points and when we stopped he happened to be standing right by me.

Him (in English): Where are you from?
Me (Eng): America
Him: Do you play frisbee in America? A real team?
Me: Yes.
Him : Do you study here?
Me: Yes.
Him (switching to Japanese): How long are you in Japan?
Me (brain slowly switching to Japanese, stuttering*): One year.
Him: How is the level of this team compared to the US?
Me (being gracious in front of my team): High.

Of course he doesn't realize it, but I have been interviewed by this man before. Two years ago when I ran the Kyoto City Half Marathon, I appeared on his replay of the race show.

You can see me (if you live in Japan, particularly Kyoto) running around and stuttering in Japanese on August 21, 10:30pm on KBS.

*An explanation of the question "How long are you in Japan?" in Japanese: This question is in an ambiguous tense that always causes me confusion. I can never tell whether the person means, "How long have you been in Japan?" or "What is the length of your stay in Japan?" or "How long, from now, will you be in Japan?" In addition, the fact that I was here for a year, went back to the US for a year, and then have been living here again for a year, makes the answer a difficult one. Hence, there is much pausing, blubbering, stuttering as I struggle to decided which version of an answer they are looking for.

Shugakuin Imperial Villa

There are two Imperial Villas in Kyoto, Katsura Rikyuu and Shugakuin Rikyuu. If you're a foreigner visiting Japan, you have to sign up a few months in advance to get a tour. If you're Japanese, you have to put your name in a lottery and maybe, just maybe, you'll get to go in some time in your lifetime.

We foreigners went today. The first exceptional thing that came to my eyes was the space. Unlike the rest of Kyoto this villa is spacious, 133 acres. There are quite a few trees, bushes, and hills, but the overall effect is one of being very close to the sky. The fact that we are at one of the highest elevations in Kyoto (other than on a mountain) does not take away from the magnificent job the Emporer did in designing the villa to be a blending of the man-made with Nature. He employed what is called shakkei, the use of natural scenery to create a serene atmosphere. This is done particularly well by layering the views. The mountains provide a back-drop for the man-made lake and gardens which overlook the city of Kyoto in the valley.

Despite an unexpected thunderstorm which sent the tour guides scurrying for umbrellas, we spent a leisurely hour touring the simple but elegant resting places and houses. What impressed me most, however, was the presence of several rice paddies and vegetable fields on the edges of the property. Apparently, these were bought up in the 1960's to keep the scenery around the villa intact. And although they belong to the Imperial Household Agency, the fields are farmed by locals. The simple stalks of rice made a nice contrast to the stately pine trees lining the paths.

Midarashi Matsuri

The Midarashi Matsuri is a festival dating back to the Heian Period (794-1183). There is a pond in the back of Shimo-gamo Shrine that is associated with a water kami. It was/is believed that if you walk through this pond during a certain period each year, you will be cleansed of all your impurities and illnesses. In addition, if one takes one of the black stones from the pond, it is particularly effective in curing a certain childhood illness (vague on which one it is..).

My friend and I went to this festival tonight. We took off our shoes and waded through the surprisingly cold water to light a candle. After coming up out of the water we drank a cup of the fresh spring water particularly blessed by the kami. I am now all clean, they say.

Shinto is a very purity related tradition, and this festival epitomizes this. Washing away, sending away, or giving away impurites is a common act in many festivals. The gods do not like death, blood, or sickness, and therefore, you must rid yourself of these things to have a prosperous life. Impurities, however, do not usually imply the moral stigma of "sins" as in Christianity. It's a cleanliness thing, pure and simple, something even a little kid in a pink yukata can understand.

Somewhat coherent notes

We flew into Naha on the main island. The southern part of this island is dominated by military bases. We left that area ASAP and headed up north for camping and beaches. The temperature was about the same as Kyoto, but there was a lovely sea breeze blowing to keep us a little cooler.

We took a little dip in the ocean at the beach where we camped before moving on to a sandier location up the road. And by sandier, I mean soft white sand in which umbrellas were stuck shading wealthy resort guests. We forewent the $30 for our own umbrella and dove right in to the crystal blue water.

Okinawa soba is like thicker ramen with larger pieces of pork.

I pulled off onto a tiny road to get a closer look at the Okinawan graves. Burial rituals in Okinawa are unique. The body of the deceased is buried and left to decompose. After a set amount of time, the remains are dug up, and the skull removed and washed in the ocean. The skull is then placed in the family grave which resembles a small stone house.

Down the road from the graves was a cape with an "elephant cliff" and a woman who was willing to give me a deal on a sanshin. I declined, but not without seriously thinking about paying $250 for this Okinawan musical instrument.

Shuri-jo is an old castle built back in the day when Okinawa was its own country. Okinawa did not officialy become part of Japan until 1972. Way before that it had quite a bit of direct contact with China. The southern islands are closer to Taiwan than to mainland Japan. The castle has a very famous gate that is pictured on the 2000 yen bill. The 2000 yen bill is like the US $2. Rare and hardly used.

We had dinner at an izakaya where the Okinawans laughed at us as we ate four dishes of Champuru, fish guts on tofu, and tried to choke down the incredibly strong Awamori, Okinawan specialty, sake.

We stopped by the Okinawa Peace Memorial Park, set up to commemorate those who died, both Japanese and American (I'd say 5% of those who died were American), in the Battle of Okinawa at the end of WWII. Then we went to see a limestone cave the Okinawa World Park. We also had a once in a lifetime chance to taste sake made with snake poison. You could even buy a bottle with the snake in it for a mere $400.

A little trip to the beach, and we got on the ferry heading to Ishigakijima, a southern island.
This not without a little mishap where the two guys got stuck in traffic returning the rent a car and missed the ferry. They had to fly to the island the next day. The ferry only leaves once a week.

The reef stretching from Naha to Ishigakijima is the largest in Japan. So of course, we went snorkeling. I'd never been snorkeling before. We found this cheap mom and pop's inn/snorkeling/boat place. The wizened old man took us out on his rickety boat, told us to put our masks on, and Go! He let us do whatever we wanted for three hours. Occasionally he'd say something and point, but since we couldn't understand a word of the Okinawan dialect, we just followed the direction of his finger.

It was amazing. The coral was at times a mere 6 inches below me. The fish were not afraid. They'd come up and stare at me and then nonchalantly swim away. I was even nibbled on once by the most amazingly striped fish. We saw "Nemo," neon blue, white, striped, orange, rainbow, flourescent, tiny, large, puffer, flat, round, and all sorts of other fish. Many I had only ever seen in the zoo. The coral was amazing too. It looked so soft, but I accidently knocked my knee on a bit and I can tell you, not soft.

Live Okinawan music after dinner.

The next day we went out to Iriomote Island, "Japan's last frontier." The inside of the island is jungle. The only road goes around the edges. We took a boat up the river and hiked a bit through the jungle to some waterfalls. There were lots of lizards, including blue tailed ones.

Before we left we walked to the Moon Beach, and the Star Sand Beach. Star sand is sand that is in the shape of stars. In actuality, it is dead sea creatures of some sort.

On our way back we stopped at another little island, Taketomi, where there is a traditional Okinawan village. Dirt/sand roads, red tiled houses, coral rock walls surrounding the houses, water buffalo, goats. It seemed really calm and peaceful.

Ferry back to Naha, where we made a brief visit to "International Street" before taking full advantage of the luxuries of a very very nice hotel. One of which was the television showing AFN, American Forces Network. It was nice to see Dave Letterman. I have to say, however, that the commercials on the station make me scared to be an American. How would you like to have commercials on your TV saying how good the Apache Attack Helicopter is? "This helicopter was instrumental in killing a whole lot of people. It has lots of guns and we should be commemorating it's use." There was that kind of commercial, and then there were public service announcements that looked like they were filmed with my digital camera and edited in the 1980's. Yikes.

Our flight back to Osaka was on ANA, a flight that was only 1/4 full. My friend's non-Japanese speaking friend who came with us asked the flight attendent why ANA sends flights that are not in any way full. She couldn't tell him why they would be so wasteful.

It's nice to be back in Kyoto again, but at the same time, I would really like to go back to Okinawa soon. I could possibily even conceive of living there. The people are so much more relaxed than the rest of Japan. The Japanese need to learn to take things a little easier.

Okinawa

The First Few Days

Okinawa, the main island: Beaches. Blue water. Sweltering heat. Run-down campgrounds. Fireworks. Resorts. Okinawa soba. Champuru. Military bases. Beach hopping. Sugar cane fields. Peace monuments. Snake venom sake. Dripping cave. Shamisen music.

On My Way to the Beach

Me: If we see an American restaurant I wouldn't be opposed to stopping.
KT: Me neither.
Dave: If there's an A&W, I'm pulling over.

Two seconds later we were heading down a tiny sidestreet chasing signs to an A&W. 40 minutes, one burger with curly fries, and two root beer floats(free refills!) later, we were back on the road.
Two miles down the road there's another one. Oh, how America has taken over Okinawa.

The System is Pointless

If you are a Japanese student and your teacher assigns a paper as your final exam you must do these things.

1. Look up the course in the coursebook and see how long the paper should be and whether it should be written horizontally or vertically.
2. Write it.
3. Print it on B4 size paper, in two columns.
4. Fold the B4 size paper in half.
5. Attach the official bright orange cover sheet on which is written your name, class name, teacher's name, and paper title. Twice.
6. Stamp it with your hanko (name seal).
7. Turn it in between 1pm and 3pm on the designated day when everyone in the school is supposed to turn in their final papers.

Have you every heard of anything so ridiculous?

And what happens when I am asked by my professor to turn in a final paper, even though I don't get credit for it, and I will be in Okinawa on the "everyone hands in their paper" day? It was a question that had the Office running around like crazy trying to figure out.

Not Quite What I Was Looking For

I celebrated the finishing of one of my two final papers (in Japanese) by ordering tacos at this little Mexican-looking restaurant I found. I should have realized I wouldn't be getting what I craved when I read "Avacado and Smoked Salmon Taco" on the menu.

Where Does Everyone Go?

It's finals period, but:
the library closes the at same time as usual.
the study room closes earlier.
there are no students around past 8pm.
campus is locked up by 9pm.

I am not surprised that the Japanese education system is failing.

Frank Lives At My University

At 8:45pm the lights in all the buildings on campus start to go out one by one. The loudspeakers crackle, and soon the security men are locking up doors to the soft sounds of Frank Sinatra crooning "My Way."

Freedom Has Many Faces

Ever since I came to Japan the first time, I have been trying to fit in. Yes, I realize that it is difficult to lose a tall blond girl in a crowd, but I figured that if I tried hard enough I might just be able to pass as someone who lives here.

So, I got rid of the shorts. I made sure all the skirts I bought fell below my knees. Spaghetti straps were replaced by sleeveless or covered up by a another layer. My bowing became habitual, as did the automatic sumimasen that passed from my lips in accompaniment. Meeting the eyes of a stranger, let alone another foreigner, was a mistake I no longer made. If someone started speaking to me in English, I quickly responded in Japanese, just to let them know that I was not a tourist in this country.

All of this to try to fit in, to become one of the faceless mass of Japanese society.

I am done with that now.

I have lived here for almost two years put together and I have finally realized that no matter what, I am always going to stick out. The effort I put in to try to convince others who really do not care what I say is not worth it. This revelation came to me as the temperature shot up the other day and I realized that I was considering wearing pants in 90 degree weather. Pants! What was I thinking? Is trying to not offend the little old grandma on the bus worth the potential heat stroke that I could incur? No. It is not.

And so yesterday I wore shorts, above the knees.
And today I am wearing a skirt, above the knees.
And when I go to Okinawa next week, I will wear a bikini.

There are times to fit in, and there are times to not care. I think it is time for me to stop being angry when the woman at the bakery thinks I do not know Japanese because I am talking to my friend in English. It is time for me to pull that miniskirt* out of the wardrobe and ride my bike aimlessly down the right side of the street. Who cares? Not me.

*I do not actually own a miniskirt.

10 Things That Make Me Want To Live Here Forever

1. I don't ever have to walk more than seven minutes to find a convenience store. (condition - in the city)
2. Fireworks by the river are not illegal.
3. I can ride my bike anywhere.
4. Soy bean products!!
5. Rice products!!
6. The trains are on time. There are schedules.
7. Regardless of whether the customer is right or wrong, the clerk will apologize for a full five minutes.
8. More National Holidays than you could ever imagine.
9. 100 yen stores. 99 yen stores.
10. Speaking English is a highly valued skill.

10 Things That Annoy Me About Japan

1. No noise pollution laws mean trucks with blow horns can cruise my neighborhood at 7am every morning.
2. There are no garbage cans in public places.
3. The tables in cafeterias and classrooms have shelves underneath for your purses, etc. perfectly aligned to my knee level. I am never without bruises.
4. Closed stacks abound at libraries.
5. Smoking. Everywhere.
6. There are more places where you can't park your bike than places where you can.
7. Screaming junior high and high school girls.
8. It's 90 degrees and it's not okay to wear shorts and spaghetti strap shirts.
9. Extreme shortage of Mexican food.
10. The three foot tall grandmas who feel they are entitled to shove everyone out of the way to be the first person off the bus.

The Yukata Style

Back in the day, all the women in Japan wore kimono. The Western world brought Western clothes, and soon enough only the old women were wearing traditional Japanese clothing. A few years ago, yukata started to come back in style as "the thing to be wearing" at summer festivals and fireworks.

These days, you can walk into any UniQlo (Japan's Old Navy) and buy a yukata, complete with snap on obi, for a mere 3,000 yen (about $30). That is, you can do this if a) you are of Japanese size and height, and b) you don't care that you'll look like everyone else who bought a cheap yukata.

Since I fit into neither category a. nor b., I did the yukata style my own way: I made one. And of course, having spent a good amount of time making such a wonderful piece of clothing, I had to make sure I accessorized it correctly as well. I went all out. Here's what all the Japanese girls and I are wearing:

1. The Yukata: A summer kimono should have a summer pattern - flowers, fireworks, dragonflies. Mine is pink with white cherry blossoms.
2. Geta: Tradional style wooden flip flops. I had to buy the slightly more square-toed men's size because of my big feet.
3. Drawstring handbag: Again, flowers are good. It's better if it's not the same color as your yukata.
4. Floppy silk flower in your hair: Traditionally, there are decorated, dangly pins that one sticks in one's hair, but this year flowers are in.
5. Fan: Regardless of whether it's a folding fan or the one the man on the street is handing out, it should be stuck in your obi - big ones in the back, little ones in the front.

Wearing a yukata for the Gion Matsuri was a great experience. I learned to tie my own obi, and I was completely comfortable walking around in my geta. I didn't get as many stares as I expected, and I was glad about that too. Either the yukata made me blend in, or people in Kyoto are getting used to foreigners doing weird Japanese-like things. I went out two nights in a row, walking around with friends, looking at the floats, and eating festival food. I didn't go to the parade in the morning, and it's a good thing too. I watched a bit on TV, and the people lining the streets did not seem so comfortable packed in and sweating in 90 degree heat.

Anyway, the Gion Matsuri was fun. You can see some of my random pictures here. I tried to get some photos of cute little Japanese kids, because there is nothing cuter than a little kid in a yukata, but it was too dark. Oh well. Enjoy anyway.

Gion Matsuri

We made them. We wore them. Yay for yukata!

Evening Out

I'm sure that not all Japanese Fulbright Alumni are higher-ups in major companies in Japan, but there are quite a few. And one of them took us out to dinner last night.

Dinner on Pontocho at one of the restaurants overlooking the river is just one of those things you always think you would like to do, but could never afford. Sadly, the rain lessened our viewing pleasure, but the food was good and the alcohol flowed freely.

The night continued with karaoke at another sort of place I had always wanted to check out: a hostess bar. Now, these sort of places are most everywhere in Japan. The more numerous ones are really just small bars run by one or two women whose job it is to keep you well beveraged and thoroughly entertained. We were both. In addition, our English and Japanese singing skills were a hit with the few other guests (who took pictures with us to capture the moment).

Overall, I am glad I was able to experience the Japanese salaryman's evening out.

Update

June pictures are up here.

Done. Almost.

I would have thought that with four years of experience in college I would have been completely over that so-nervous-I-can't-eat feeling right before giving a presentation. I mean, how many times have I partially prepared the night before and crammed the morning of and come out just fine?

Today was different. Today I was giving my year's work of research presentation in Japanese to some grad students, my advisor, and the professor who could provide me with an in to Japanese graduate school.

Bad Points:
-I was only 75% done when I went to bed last night.
-I had had minimal sleep the entire weekend.
-I spoke nothing but English the entire weekend.
-I lost my copy card.
-I was three minutes late to class.
-My Japanese was so bad that even I couldn't understand what I was saying. So I started over.
-In my haste, I forgot to change my "so I know what I'm talking about" headers into something more professional.

Good Points:
-They didn't laugh.
-I used up an entire hour with the presentation, so I only had to answer questions for 30 minutes.
-My advisor said he was impressed that I talked for one whole hour.
-I'm done.

So I'm celebrating tonight with hours and hours of JJ100, All-You-Can-Play Game Center, for free!

We Are the Champions

The Champions of the 2005 Tajima Ultimate Tournament are the Kinki Trolls.
That would be my team. Yeah Kinki!

This weekend in the little mountain town of Tajima, Hyogo Prefecture, Japan the foreign ultimate players of Japan gathered for a tournament. The highlights:

1. There was no force middle to be seen anywhere.
2. Long hucks and tall guys who could catch.
3. American English, British English, Australian English. ENGLISH.
4. Barbeque with free flowing beer, and people who could drink a lot of it.
5. First game at 12 noon on Sunday.
6. Going 4-0. Winning the final 12-11.
7. Drinking sake from the trophy cup.
8. Team picture in a kinki pose.
9. Onsens.
10. Playing the best ultimate I have played (teams, spirit, competition) since I came to Japan.

Taking "Belated" to the Limit

I opened the mailbox today to find a package...from myself.

Three months ago I sent a birthday present to my friend, Jill, in Egypt. It came back to me today. It had been opened, searched, repacked, and tied with a string and this really cool lead button thing that looks like it was hand-made somewhere by an unstudious apprentice.

The contents were all present and accounted for, although the chocolate had melted and reformed into a state beyond edibility. It's a shame that I already told Jill what she was supposed to have gotten, but now, instead of a surprise about what she's getting, she'll be surprised that she's getting anything at all!

Thanks to the combined efforts of the Egyptian and Japanese Postal Systems, my friend will have a wonderful belated birthday present.

Under Attack

My floor looks like a miniature battle field; ant carcasses dot the tatami.
It seems that as the infintry invades the first floor, the air units have been sent to my room.
I am doing all in my power - bleach, vinegar, peppermint, boric acid, insecticide, cockroach spray - to hold them at bay, but their numbers are overpowering.

All I can think about as I go to bed is:
"It is estimated that the average person consumes a pound of insects in their lifetime."
And I sleep on the floor.

The Cost of Being Environmentally Friendly

One thing that usually impresses people when they come to Japan is how orderly and on time everything is. I, too, am a big fan of predictable train and bus arrivals. But lately, I am not too happy about the schedule of my recycle truck.

I was told the garbage truck comes every Tuesday and Friday at 9am. I can safely put my garbage out at 10am and it still gets picked up.

I was told that the recycle truck comes every Wednesday at 8:30am. Every Wednesday for the past three weeks I have tried to recycle unsuccessfully. I go at 8:30am, and the truck has gone. I go at 8:20am, and the truck has gone. I went this morning at 8:15am, and the woman across the street says, "It just left."

If I put the recyclables out the night before, the neighborhood ladies give me evil glares. If I try in the morning, I inevitably fail. I'll try one more time next week, but if that doesn't work, I'm going to start taking my bottles and cans one by one to the convenience store where they have recycling bins that say "Not for household recyclables" sitting right outside.

Is there a fourth of July in Japan?

Of course there is. But it isn't accompanied by barbeques, fireworks, beer, and red, white, and blue t-shirts. When I got an invitation to the American Consulate General's Fourth of July Celebration, I thought I might get lucky enough to see an American flag shirt or tie adorning a beer drinking ex-pat. I was mistaken.

In a casual skirt and sandals, I was the least dressed up among the suits, cocktail dresses, and kimonos passing from the seared katsuo steaks to the "Salads of the World." It was either the clothes, the name tag, or the way I bee-lined for the food that kept other guests away while I took full advantage of such a generous offering of delicacies. Whatever the case, I dined in true American style by stuffing myself silly.

Apparently, the national anthem was played before I showed up fashionably late, but I was just in time for a jazz set and a tsugaru shamisen highlight. There were really only two things at this party which I could absolutely say were American.

1. Cold bottles of Sam Adams. Sadly, too few for such a thirsty crowd, but much appreciated by those of us who got our hands on a few bottles.
2. Pecan Pie. Japanese in size, but American in taste.

Hooray for another year of Independence for US.
Hope we can learn to use it more wisely this year than we did last.

Don't Have the Skills

A couple weeks ago I said that the rainy season had started. I was wrong. The rainy season is now. So far we've had four days of pouring down rain. There are no smiling sun faces on the weather forecast.

I don't mind the rain. What I don't like is getting wet. And when you rely on your bicycle for transportation, you get a lot of wet. I don't know how they do it, but every Japanese person riding a bike holding an umbrella is miraculously dry. I can ride with an umbrella too, but the only part of me that stays dry is my head. I either need more practice or money for the bus.

Sayonara Tomodachi!

The last of my visitors left this morning. My house seems too quiet and extrememly bare now. I had a great time while everyone was here, though.

Anna and Jeff and Sarah reminded me of how much fun we had back in the good old KCJS days. A Bar, purikura, shabu-shabu, fireworks by the river, wandering Shijo Karasuma...crazy good times.

Jill and Erik taught me that walking is good. Yes, there are famous things in Japan, and yes it is nice to see them, but just wandering around the neighborhoods at a leisurely pace is often better than rushing to see golden temples and such. We also learned that the Japanese think that walking farther than ten minutes is too far for walking. I don't know how many times they said, "You can't walk there," and twenty minutes later, we had walked there.

Thank you all for coming and visiting me and making this month exciting and happy! I will visit you all in the fall, I promise!!!

The Power of Hot Water

There's something about onsens that make all problems seem trivial. Just the prospect of a relaxing hour soaking in a steamy bath keeps me happy through traveling troubles. And so today, when I had no umbrella and the rain poured down on the shrines of Nikko, I joined the monkey statues and thought no evil. I was headed to an onsen. And when Jill accidentally threw away her rail pass and we had to go all the way back to find it, only to discover that someone had searched through the trash and returned it to the station for us, I was calm- I had just spent the afternoon at the onsen.

Something Fishy

Tsukiji is the biggest fish market in the world. There are lots of fish. The most famous are the tuna. Do you know how big a tuna fish is? It's not small.
We slept in, and by the time we got to the market at 6:30am the auction was over, but they were busy buzz sawing the frozen and cutting up the fresh tuna carcasses all over the place. We wandered around staring back at the fish eyes and learning the difference between ink squid and short fin squid.
I think that if I would have seen the fish market four years ago, back when I hated fish, I probably would have been disgusted. As I passed the chunks of tuna meat and beheaded yellowtails today, however, I found myself thinking,"It looks so delicious!" The more fish I saw, the hungrier I became. So, naturally, we stopped off at a nearby sushi restaurant for fresh breakfast.

Skin City

Tokyo is just the same as it was when I was here a couple weeks ago. The only difference is the heat and consequently the increase in scantily clad women. It seems that the foreigners have exerted more influence on fashion and social customs in Tokyo than in Kyoto. Their influx is apparent in every strapless dress and tube top. This style is far from taking over, but to compared to the elbow length gloves and floppy hats of Kyoto, it's a bit of a shock.

Riding Off to Join the Circus

The Japanese love bicycles. Some Japanese love small-wheeled bicycles. There is only one advantage of the latter, in my eyes. You can fold them up and take them on the train with you. I've seen this twice.

Disadvantages I found out this morning, when I rode one for the first time. Firstly, put me a small wheeled bike and I look like I belong in the clown act of the Ringling Brothers Circus. Secondly, because those wheels are really small, you have to pedal really fast to go anywhere. I rode this bike from my house down to Dave's house, a six minute ride on a normal bike. It took me fifteen on Bozo's transportation. I ran back home in nine.

And so, in conclusion, the students I see riding these things around are either idiots, or they're trying to get more exersize. I vote the former.

Good Times

Some days I'm lucky. Yesterday was one of them.
-The rail pass lady didn't look at my passport.
-We were two minutes late, but the train was five minutes behind.
-A foreigner-loving business man bought us beers and snacks at the baseball game.
-The drunken college guys in front of us gave us the excess popcorn they bought from the cute vendor girl.
-Nomura got his 2000th hit in our presence.
-The Hiroshima Carp beat the Yakult Swallows 5-2.

Traveling In Style

There are the cheap ways of traveling across the country, and then there's the Shinkansen(bullet train). But when you're carrying a Japan Rail Pass, the regular rules of travel don't apply. For a mere 250 dollars you can enjoy seven days ofunlimited speeding trains. Flash the card at the station guy and step on.

Technically, I'm not suppossed to have this pass since I hold a long term visa. But the ticket woman didn't look, and I didn't tell. And now my friends and I can prance across the country as the good tourists we pretend to be.

Old and New Questions

My friends are here, and as is my duty and privilege, I am taking them around to all the good places in Japan. Their presence has made me look again at Japan through fresh eyes as I try to answer questions such as these:

Why is it impolite to blow your nose in public?
What is the meaning of the incense at temples?
Why does no one wear helmets when riding bicycles?
Are Japanese women all anorexic?
What is the difference between sushi and sashimi?
Do I dip it in this, or do I dip it in that?
How much does it cost to put up a torii at Fushimi Inari?
Why do you pay for hotel rooms by the person?
What's the difference between all the green teas?
Why do the toilets have sinks attached to the back?
What's with the women in welder visors?
Why do the entire schools go on field trips together?
Why are there so many different train lines in such a small area?
Why doesn't anyone steal the bike secured with a 100 yen lock?
How can 100 yen sushi be so good?
Why the crowds on the 1800 yen seats, when you can sit on the rocks for free?

Welcome to Japan

As a rule, I don't like tourists in my country. I am generally a nice, helpful person, but when I see map reading, non-Japanese speaking, group traveling tourists on the streets of my city, I smirk and avoid. Why? I can't answer this specifically, but I believe it has something to do with the fact that most English speaking travelers feel that they can go anywhere and be just fine with their wonderful knowledge of English. I don't condone the absolute intrusion and interference into normal citizens' lives that pushy tourists bring.

This is my attitude.

However, I reserve the right to modify my attitude when my non-Japanese speaking friends come to visit. I will reconsider the points that make other foreigners odious to me. If they have a Japanese speaking guide, it's okay for them to be here. It they travel in groups of less than three, I won't rudely ring my bike bell at them to clear the sidewalk. If I hear them making a true attempt at mastering more than "please" and "thank you," I will possibly smile and not secretly despise them for their horrible accent.

Don't critisize me for this way of thinking. I am not really spiteful. But go live in a foreign country for a year, and you'll see what I mean. There are others that think the same way I do.

There Must Be Something Better

The most popular shows on Japanese television are panel shows where celebrities watch clips or do stunts and then everyone expresses their opinion. There are so many of these that they're running out of things to talk about. Case in point, a show I saw today:

A Japanese celebrity panel was commenting on a Korean celebrity panel show. They would watch the Korean clip and the Korean responses, and then talk about it. When that was over, they moved on to discuss American Reality TV clips. That's when I turned off the TV.

There are some people who refuse to watch Japanese TV because it is so ridiculously stupid, and there are those who love to watch Japanese TV because it is so ridiculously stupid. I waver back and forth. Today I am the former.

Whatever Works

The man dressed as a woman screeched at the man dressed as a warrior. He rumbled back and advanced up the stage. Left foot slide, toe lift, pat as it comes down. Right foot slide, toe lift, pat.

I imagine that tabi socks have to be particularly clean and white for Noh performances since the feet have such an active role in the play. When a Japanese person describes Noh, they will always say, "The movements are so slow and deliberate, and they raise their toes when they walk. Like this.." And you'll get an example. The feet are probably what keep most people's attention as they try not to nod off.

I was mesmerized by the drum player's eyebrows. "Yoawoooh" Eyebrows up !donk! Eyebrows down "Yoh" !donk! Eyebrows wiggle "Yawh" !dink! "Yawh" !dink! Wiggle wiggle .

June Showers

When I said the other day that the rainy season was coming, I seriously didn't think it was going to arrive so soon. After pouring all night and all day, the weather settled down this evening to the infamous Kyoto summer swelter.

Kyoto is situated in a valley, a little pocket where all the hot air gathers still and heavy. Most people avoid this city during the summer not because it is hot, but because it is unbearably humid. I can't wait until the time comes once again when I will take one step outside and immediately be soaked in a combination of the water particles in the air and my own perspiration.

But for now I am sitting in my room trying to accustom my lungs to this extra strain and trying not to think of the bugs breeding in my tatami.

First Impressions Can Be Wrong

I started getting emails about my high school's five year reunion last week. So far, fourteen people have replied. This is probably not representative of our class of 165, but I would just like to point out the fact that:

2 are engaged
6 are married
2 have a child
2 are married to each other

12 live in the midwest (Indiana, Illinios, Ohio, Wisc.)
1 lives in California
1 lives in Japan

*This is in addition to the few I have seen on the facebook.com that are also married with kids.

When I graduated from this "smart school," I was sure that a good 50% of these people would be doing amazing things in the years to come. I'm not saying that what they're doing now (living in the midwest, getting married, and having babies) is a bad thing. It's just not what I pictured.

Centipedes on Steriods

- I woke up to the sound of dogs fighting. A few of the dozen housewives who walk their dogs in the morning must have started chatting and forgotten that the toy on the end of their string was alive.

- A centipede crossed my floor while I was studying. I dropped a full box of laundry detergent on it. I came back from my shower to find that the box had moved and there was no squished bug body underneath. I hope all insects in Japan are not this strong.

- The whole country was watching just minutes ago as Japan beat North Korea in the bid to the World Cup. You've gotta love the national unity that gets the game televised without commercials.

No Warning

I can't remember if this is how it was in Indiana or Boston, but in Japan, the seasons start suddenly. For example, three days ago I was wearing long sleeves and pants. Yesterday the temperature jumped to 28 C (don't ask what it is in F cause I don't know), and it's not going back down, they say.

Tsuyu, rainy season, will start the same way. A week or so from now, the sky will turn grey and the rain will pour down without warning. I'm debating whether a 100yen poncho will keep me dry enough. Maybe I'll spend the extra money for an umbrella holder for my bike.

It's that time again

Grass makes me happy. It makes me so happy that I will do ridiculous things just because it is present.

I went down to Osaka yesterday to play pick-up ultimate (it exists in Japan!!). We played on a moderately grassy field. I was ecstatic for the green. I was crazy about the lack of sand. I was blind to the small rocks and hard ground.

I dove. I skidded. I acquired a wound the size of a saucer on my thigh.

Does it hurt? Yes. Does it ooze? Yes. Am I sorry I did it? Absolutely not. Most teams in Japan, including mine, experience a lack of contact with the ground due to their sand/dirt fields. I had been missing that wonderful body wrenching impact. Now I feel that the Ultimate season has started once again.

As is said by the best old members of the O3P, "Pain heals. Guys dig scars. Glory is forever."

See all my beautiful Tohoku pictures on my photo gallery! Everything is updated! 

Someone's Been Spying

I answered my door two minutes ago to find two Japanese Jehovah's Witnesses standing on my porch. I knew they would be coming around eventually, since a new Kingdom Hall was just built a few months ago down the street, but I wasn't expecting them this soon.

"A few fellow believers told me that there were some foreigners living in this house, so we wanted to come talk to you in English and share the positive attitude that God has given us."

I want to know who these "fellow believers" are and what they've been doing spying around my house. I want to know how they knew I was an English speaking foreigner. I want to know if there is a gossip network that talks about this house like a black spot on the perfection of the neighborhood.

How is it this easy to be singled out?

Tokyo, Part 4

Tokyo.
An unsuccessful search for a public bath (we remained smelly).
A Tour of the Diet (named after the German Parliment).
A talk by the longest serving Representative (from Aomori Pref.).
A free lunch of Subway sandwiches provided by the Fulbright Alumi Association (I ate 45cm).
A tour of the Supreme Court Building (hasn't been touched since the 70's).
A talk by a Supreme Court Justice (I apologize, sir, for falling asleep).
A nap on the grass of the Imperial Palace (the homeless guys know the best places to sleep).
A 630 yen dinner of Thai curry (things are cheaper under the train tracks).
A walk around Tokyo Station (too big for it's own good).
A night bus back to Kyoto (two seats to myself).
Kyoto.

Sendai, Part 3

The Japanese like to label and rank things. For example, there are "The Three Most Beautiful Spots in Japan." One of them is in Sendai. It is called Matsushima, which means "Pine Island(s)," and in this case, it is a bay filled with rugged piney islands. I can't agree that it is beautiful, though. Maybe a couple hundred years ago, yes. But not now when everything has been paved over and there are thousands of old people following their flag-waving tour guides.

Most places in Japan are famous for something. Sendai is famous for Cow Tongue. You can't walk ten steps without finding another restaurant that sells gyutan. So we had some for dinner, naturally. The place we went also served Ox Tails with your Cow Tongue. The tails were good, the tongue was not bad. And now I have eaten from one end of the cow to the other.

Winding Down, Part 2

We were woken by day hikers pausing for a break at our hut. We ate the last of our food, cleaned up, packed, and hiked down the mountain.

As most trips in Japan often go, we ended our hike at an onsen. We decided to go back to the one onsen that was nice to us the night before as a reward for their kindness. That was the best idea ever. It was the nicest onsen I have ever been to. And, it was my first experience in a coed onsen. The coed outdoor baths had a wonderful view of a waterfall which we admired while trying to keep our hand towels covering the appropriate parts. It was pretty funny.

After cleaning ourselves thoroughly, we headed down for lunch overlooking Lake Tazawako, the deepest lake in Japan. From there we drove to Sendai. I drove on the highway. There were no speed limit signs, so I went 130. Kmph.

The Hiking, Part 1

As usual, things started out uneventfully. The ferry ride was long, but calm. Getting the rent-a-car, buying groceries, picking up our fourth member, and driving to the Hachimantai National Park was unnmarred by complications. The first hiccup was a combination of two factors which were solved together. Firstly, we forgot to fill up our water bottles. Secondly, the road to the trailhead was blocked off. However, knocking on the door of a nearby house, we found people nice enough to let us borrow some water and tell us these important things:

1. the chain blocking the road could be moved, and we probably wouldn't get in trouble for it
2. there is a nice hut at the top of the mountain
3. the top of the mountains are still covered with snow
The first two were well noted, the third went in one ear and out the other.

The actual hiking on this first day was fairly easy. The trailhead started above the tree line, and our hike to the mountain hut was a gradually ascending winding path around to the other side of the mountain. We passed sulfur hills, poked at a dormant toad, avoided sliding down snow-covered inclines, and tread on porous stone that made up the volcanic mountains.

The hut was barely visible across a shallow lake as we and the fog arrived simultaneously at a small plateau near the top of the "Woman's Eye" Mountain. With only minimal trouble from the kerosene stove, we prepared our spaghetti dinner and s'mores for dessert. The day ended early after a few card games when the cold became unbearable and we all retreated to our warm sleeping bags.

Because our car was parked in one spot, the next day's hike was to be a loop, ending us back at the same hut for another night. We left our heavy packs and started our eight hour hike as the sun burned away the fog. We climbed up and down mountains and ridges noting the changing color of the soil: red, black, orange, yellow, brown. Our goal was "Breast/Nipple" Mountain at an elevation near 1600 meters. Other than the pause to eat lunch under an overhang when it started to rain, we reached the summit with no problems. From there, we started our descent to a valley filled with onsen (hot springs) and their accompanying resorts. We even found a natural pool along the way, but it was so incredibly hot that our little toes could only handle it for three seconds at a time.

It was four p.m when we reached the onsen valley. Consulting the map, we determined that if we went just a little faster, we could make it back to the hut just as the sun was setting. So off we went. Over the ski slopes and through the forest we went. Our first trouble came when we reached a beech grove carpeted with snow. The trail was invisible and the trees were not marked. We painstakingly followed one set of footprints coming from the opposite direction.

Our second problem occured when the trail ended halfway up the mountain in the midst of snow covered slopes. Here and there dense islands of dwarf bamboo spanned across the white. An hour later we had scrambled, slid, and pulled our way to meters from the peak in the direction toward which we were sure the trail went. But the brush was unrelenting and the sun was setting. It was cold, and we only had one headlamp between the four of us. It was tough to give up when we knew that our car was a mere thirty minutes on the other side of the mountain, but it was either turn back or be those foreigners who had to get rescued from a mountain. We slid down the snowy slopes like children who lost their sleds.

Two and a half hours later, after retracing our footprints through the beech forest, manuvering through roots and streams with only one light, we emerged at the ski slopes. We paused for an astronomy lesson by our resident astronomer. The stars were absolutely gorgeous - innumerable, bright, and enveloping. This was the last good thing of the evening.

We were rejected by three onsens. No room at the resorts. One even turned off the lights and locked the door when we left.
The nice one let us use their pay phone to call a cab. He drove us back to our car, bearing with us while we unchained the "do not pass" sign from the middle of the road for him.
It was now midnight. We drove to a convenience store for dinner. We drove around some more looking for another hotel to stay at.
We were rejected by three more.
We drove back to the parking lot where we tried to sleep in a cold, cramped car.
The sky became light at 3:15am, and the sun rose around 3:45am. We were hiking back to the hut by 4:15am.

Daily totals:
Distance: 16 miles
Hiking time: approx. 11 hours
Hours of sleep: 2-3hrs. (okay, we slept again at the hut, but...)