Author: dsawchuk

Catch up time. I’ve been rather busy and unable to write, so I’ll just give some run down of recent events.

August 20: I took the day off work to wait for my modem that was actually delivered the previous day. I tried going to the post office to get it. Arrived one hour before the post office opened. I figured everything else starts so early here, so why not the post office? Went back home then back to the post office where I was turned away and told to call a number to have the package delivered.

I decided to go to the office to get Aya to help me. They were shocked to see me on my day off, but soon understood. Aya called and arranged the delivery. I waited around my apartment and finally got the package. And the downloading commenced. Yay for connecting with my friends at home again! Yay for bittorrent! Yay for Yayhooray!

I hardly remember if I did anything more that day. I probably just surfed around like crazy.

August 21: I believe I spent a good portion of the day preparing some photos to show from my first few weeks here. After that, I wandered down to the beer festival near the station just to see what was happening there. I bumped into Randy who has been living in Ichinoseki for 18 years. Go figure. I think it might be getting to him too (or it was the beer), but he seems a little strange. Small world though – he’s from Didsbury, not too far from Calgary at all.

I also ran into David another JET from Southern Iwate. He studied economics at Berkeley and seemed nice enough. He might benefit from a bit more positivity in his life, but that seems to be the case with a few people around here.

The festival featured a day of big bands, but I only caught the last one. A creepy old Japanese lady was singing ‘The Girl from Ipenema’ (not a clue how to spell that actually) among other showtunes. Weird, but fun. Actually, that could very well be Japan’s motto.

I believe I spent the evening hunched over in front of the computer, bathing in its glow and also preparing for the conference. It was an early night so that I could catch the early train up to Morioka.

August 22: That early train was necessary because Hazuki and I were catching a bus to Miyako for some sightseeing. Without a hitch, we hooked up and got on the bus. The ride was gorgeous. I kept thinking it was reminding me of something, but I couldn’t pinpoint what. It was not lush enough for Hawaii, but it didn’t suggest anything Canadian. Maybe some spot in Ecuador – I really can’t say.

Hazuki and I chatted along the way and before we knew it, we were in Miyako scouting around for the tourist information centre. We (well, mostly Hazuki and her knowledge of Japanese) figured out where we were destined then quickly grabbed some soba before our bus arrived.

The bus took us directly to Miyako’s most famous beach, Jodogahara (another spelling nightmare, provided by the Japanese). White stones lead down to the water where sunbathers admired the view of the sculpted rock formations a short swim out to sea. The white cliffs made for a gorgeous view that I could have photographed for hours, but alas, no one is patient enough to bear the tectonic pace of my photography. So, I tried to shoot quickly and not hold Hazuki up – I think I might have to travel back and plan for more time to shoot.

We wandered along the coastline and came to the docks were the ferries shipped people along the water to view Miyako’s sights. This ferry is renowned for the number of seagulls that flock alongside the boat and take food directly from the hands of the passengers. The timid Hazuki feared the seagull droppings, but we were spared their filth and enjoyed a nice ride. Along the way we passed a rock spire as well as a blowhole. The entire coast featured interesting rock and cliff formations that called to have their photos taken if only some calmer seas were available.

After the boat ride, we wandered back to Miyako. Along the way, we passed shady docks, fishermen and their shady fish from the boat-filled bay and some birds of prey I wish I could identify. I think they may have been hawks, but possibly falcons. I had no idea there were any such birds in Japan, so it came as a nice surprise to watch them circling overhead and mingling with the crows.

We arrived early back at the train station and decided to take the bus back early. Hazuki slept much of the way home and I was able to read my book.

We went for dinner where I got my first experience with the notorious fish-flakes in Japan. They wouldn’t be so bad if they just didn’t stick to everything, but once they’re made contact with your food, they are more tenacious than Spiderman’s webs.

After dinner, we were going to go to Hazuki’s but we ran into Ciara (who lives near Morioka, in Shizukui-shi) and sat with her at the coffee shop while she waited for her train (or bus, I can’t remember now). The Irish lass with the gravel voice chatted with us a while then ventured home, as did we.

There, Hazuki showed me around her colossal apartment and we talked the night away while watching the finale of a charity telethon. On TV a girl was running the 100th kilometer of her past 24 hours and slowly approaching a stadium in Tokyo. She reached her destination and much weeping ensued.

August 23: I had the morning to kill before the conference started so I took the bus into town with Hazuki then wandered Morioka’s streets. Nothing to stellar jumped out at me, but it was a pleasant enough morning. I visited their cherished bridge, the Iwate bank that many of the tourist brochures had raved about (which turned out to merely be an example of fairly ordinary colonial architecture – an oddity in Japan, but nothing spectacular on the world scale) and a few other minor sites.

I met Hazuki for lunch and we hit the conbini then the park for a picnic. Soon after, I was back at the kencho and hanging out with all the other first years. That afternoon held some speeches and a trivia game for us, then the different regions of the prefecture gathered together to chat more intimately. Some of the cynics started emerging early, but I had a fine enough time, so no worries. We learned about some of the places to visit in Iwate and started mingling with a few of the second and third-years before we ambled (or in my case with my heavy bags, trudged) over to the hotel.

I may be mixing up nights, but I believe that was the night they held a welcome party for us in the hotel. Again, we had a few more speeches, met the superintendent of the prefecture and mingled to our heart’s content. Afterwards, the Irish pub was the venue of choice and a bunch of second-years joined us. I was excited because they were actually showing Olympic basketball on TV. The only way I had been able to see a game up to this point was by downloading one. The U.S. was playing and, predictably, thrashing Angola. But then everyone got the bright idea to up and leave for who knows where.

I believe a large group went of to karaoke or perhaps some other nomihoudai extravaganza, but the group I was with (led by Claire) headed to Moonsoon where we piled into a smoky room and those of us who weren’t drinking were ostracized from the other nomihoudai folks. Allan, April, Sarah (a different one, staying in Northern Iwate) and I were forced to sit at a different table, but we got all the smoke we could consume for free. We didn’t last long and went home in the rain. Apparently, later that night, one of the Mikes threw up in the fountain at the restaurant. Classy.

August 24: The conference shifted to its main venue, the International Plaza where we listened to a bunch of speeches and had our first Japanese lessons. In my dopey group of Japanese rookies, we fumbled through the greetings and such. Apparently, we were too dopey for a couple people and they switched to a higher grade (though I suspect one person did it because we weren’t cool enough – and that wasn’t Krista). Krista, Ciara and I went to a little coffee shop and I had grilled cheese sandwiches and a smile.

After lunch, we struggled to keep our heads up during more presentations. The best part of the afternoon was the tea ceremony demonstration. I sat hypnotized by their movements. Their graceful hands flowed between each movement, never jerking, never abruptly stopping. Just gorgeous.

Once the day was finished, we were scheduled to have a scavenger hunt around Morioka. We met in the lobby where Thanet and I bounced between groups and got abandoned by others. I eventually ended up with Ciara, Evelyn and Krista who decided shopping would be more fun than a scavenger hunt. We headed to Daiei where they picked through the trashy outfits and found a few things worth buying. God help Evelyn if she ever gets a high credit limit.

After shopping we grabbed a pizza (Krista and I picked off the meat) at some restaurant Krista had previously visited. Then the girls made the mistake of ordering some dish that they thought was desert. It turned out to be some foul-smelling egg concoction with soy sauce on it. Then again, it was egg, so of course it would smell bad to me. They got through some of it though, so it couldn’t have been all bad, even though it smelled that way.

We then went back to the Irish pub where everyone was meeting after the scavenger hunt. Maybe this was the night the basketball game was on. Hard to say really, but regardless, I was dragged along to Moonsoon again. And again, the nomihoudai was flowing. I said hi to a few people, but I didn’t stay long. David and (I’m blanking, who was that?) walked back to the hotel with a stop at a cool little indie record shop on the way. I hung out in my hotel room for a bit then went to bed.

August 25: More of the same followed at the next day of the conference. Talks on life in Japan and Japanese lessons were interrupted only by our trip to Gusto for lunch. Krista, Evelyn and I indulged in some pizzas and plumped up in the process. I almost fell asleep after lunch, but held myself together until the origami presentation. There, we learned how to make some paper hats, but I have recently discovered that I forgot the technique completely. We also made some paper airplanes and tossed them across the room to see whose would fly the furthest. I made a stunt plane, so mine didn’t fare to well in the distance department. If only I would have known that was the point of the competition. Thanet fared well I later learned because one of the Japanese ladies present helped design her plane. Cheater!

That night, AJET organized a restaurant night where the group could choose among five different locations. Ciara, Colin and I raced to get to the sign-up sheet for Bangkok, the Thai place. I went with the masses on that one. Ciara said it was great, but I had no idea. Colin ran interference then got all out names on the list before anyone else could steal the sheet from him.

The place was popular and our accomplishment was undermined when they opened up more spots. What a shame, now we would have to have more company. In a little basement restaurant, I sat and talked with Raechel most of the time – she also did me the favour of ordering a vegetarian dish for me.

With satisfied bellies, we headed over to Shidax for karaoke. It took me a while to warm up to things in the non-drinking room, but I did a decent version of Weezer’s ‘Buddy Holly’ then started wandering to the other rooms where the parties were in full swing. My breakout song was Van Halen’s ‘Jump’ and I don’t know that I stopped singing after that. Shouting rather. I had to compete with the din of the drunks after all.

Then, I think it was Thanet that just started wandering into random rooms full of Japanese people and a new trend was born. A bunch of us joined three young lads who liked punk rock songs and sang some song about cherry blossoms (a.k.a. Sakura) to Sakura. Then, Erin dragged Matt, Garry and I to a room of Japanese women who giggled at our every broken note. I ended the evening hoarse and capable of only singing Louis Armstrong’s ‘Wonderful World’ as a finale.

Ciara finally allowed me to leave and we set off for the hotel at about 2:00 am. I think the alcohol may have actually been more plentiful in her system than blood. I headed upstairs for as much sleep as I could cram into the time before breakfast.

August 26: More sleepy eyes for more speeches and lessons on Thursday. For lunch, we dined buffet style in the basement of Kawatoku. The highlight was, of course, the ice cream. Such yummy gelato. Oh hell, I want some now. Actually, after the speeches, I went back with a few folks and got more. It turned out to be my dinner.

The cultural demonstration that afternoon was Shogo (a.k.a. calligraphy). The calligrapher showed us some of the history of the kanji characters and how they have evolved over the centuries then set his brush in the ink and swept it across the papers.

After this demonstration, the ice cream and the exploration of Kawatoku, the evening was filled by a trivia contest at the Irish pub. Our team was competent and threatened to take the gold at one point, but our final round was miserable and we slipped off the podium to fourth. Just like a Canadian. Though, irritatingly, there was not a single Canadian content question the whole night. I was useless in the rounds dominated by questions related to Irish football managers and Kiwi geography.

After the pub, Ciara, Leslie, Mike, Claire and I searched for a spot to drink and eventually found some nook with a hidden elevator that lifted us to a bar meant to be kept secret from first-year JETs. Though, such elitism deserves sabotage. I should really do something about that kind of exclusion’

We talked for hours and I got to bed at around 3:00 am. Considering how tired I was all day, it was an impressive feat.

August 27: One last day of orientation that put our new Japanese lessons to test. We had to perform a skit featuring our new (and slim) knowledge of Japanese. Ours focused on a restaurant scene, as most of them did, but our twist to the subject was the ordeal of attempting to order vegetarian food in Japan.

After some parting words, we went back to Kawatoku for lunch then to the immigration office to get our re-entry stamps. That took forever and we rushed back to the hotel to grab our bags. I decided not to go to the night’s festivities/parties/nomihoudais/carnal orgies of general debauchery or whatever was happening. I was just too exhausted to bother, so Thanet and I took a cab to the station and explored until we found the foreign food shop, Jupiter. We feasted our eyes, but restrained ourselves and only ended up getting some peanut butter and a Perrier for Thanet. In the hustle of leaving the hotel, however, I managed to forget my coat in the lobby. Very clever of me, but apparently they do have it, so I might be able to retrieve it later.

Thanet and I rode the train a while and got to know each other. She has determined that I am going to be her best friend in Japan. Apparently I have no say in the matter. It would be more flattering if she had deliberately picked me rather than just casting a wide net and only getting my bite. But I don’t mind, I’m just using her for her car. Ha!

Back home, I barely made it back to my house with my two big bags on my bike. I tried an alternative means of riding and it was decidedly unsuccessful. I even managed to hit a pole while after making only one push of the pedal. Grace and style!

Soon after I started settling in, I got a call from Uri. He, Sally and Isaac had missed their train in Morioka and needed a place to stay in Ichinoseki since their respective busses and trains wouldn’t be running until the next day. Of course I happily obliged and I was soon heading back to the train station to meet them.

I made the mistake of suggesting that the walk to my house was 25 minutes. It actually took 50. We were walking slowly and everyone’s bags were weighing them down (and were falling over to boot), so our progress was indeed slowed. Poor Isaac couldn’t get his bags to co-operate and he just looked dead tired. He also had to get up to take a bus at some ungodly hour the next day to get to his school’s festival.

When we finally arrived at my place, they all marveled at its apparently palatial beauty and luxurious amenities. Go figure. I guess I have to do a better job of appreciating what I have. We all hung about and chatted for a while before it was bedtime. They were able to squeeze into my living room (Sally not being exactly an Amazon helped fit the puzzle together).

August 28: Isaac parted early and Sally and Uri decided to go shopping in the Rodeo Drive of Southern Iwate, Ichinoseki. I slept like a log and didn’t hear them get up, get ready, leave, return, have breakfast, wash dishes, and leave again. Yay for earplugs! I felt bad though, I forgot to leave out some towels and such for their morning showers. Bad host. Bad!

Anyway, they were just happy they didn’t have to sleep on the station floor. They were appreciative enough to bring me some omiyage from Morioka too. So nice of them.

The previous day, Thanet and I had decided that we should make use of that car of hers and take a little road trip to Tono. I took the train up to Shiwa that afternoon and met her at the station (after wondering for a while if I was in the right city).

She took me to her apartment and gave me the grand tour, complaining all the while of its shit-holedness. It wasn’t that bad though. No, it wasn’t great, but it was livable. But again, I am appreciating what I have ever more. Even though my rent sucks in comparison with many other arrangements.

We hung about, chatted and snacked a while then headed over to her drumming practice. She is participating in the Shiwa festival and will be drumming on a float while wearing the sexiest garb imaginable. Those split-toed shoes really get my mojo workin’. I was free to roam through the practice and take photos, including many of the children’s practice. They were adorable, especially this one little seven-year-old girl who couldn’t take her eyes off me and smiled every time I returned her stare.

We returned to Thanet’s apartment after the practice and we chatted the night away while making plans for our road trip.

August 29: I woke early to the melody of Eidelweiss ringing through the Shiwa streets at 7:00 am. It’s a reminder for everyone to do his or her daily exercises. Sort of like call to prayer, but less spiritual and more annoying. I read while Thanet attempted to sleep off her cold. She was unsuccessful, but I think the only decent sleep she got that night was when I was out of the room in the morning – she said I didn’t snore though, so I feel no guilt.

After slowly preparing ourselves for the day, we excitedly got in the car and headed for Tono on our inaugural road trip. Maps in lap, I was barely able to guide Thanet through the kanji-labelled streets, but we did make it, much to our mutual satisfaction.

After looping through the city a couple times, we found parking then went to a place called Picasso for lunch. Again, we reveled in our new independence as we successfully ordered vegetarian dishes and rewarded ourselves with some indulgent sundaes.

We called Garry and met up with him at the station. He guided us to a temple, then, when he realized he didn’t really mean to guide us there, we started off for the 500 Buddhas.

What a gorgeous spot. Moss-covered rocks initially seem quite unassuming. Jungle trees surround the stones and shaded us from the sun. As we wandered into the woods, however, the unique nature of the stones became apparent. Each of them has an image of a Buddha carved into it. The moss covers most of them, but you can vaguely make out their shapes if you make careful examinations. But, some of the stones have been scrubbed clean – each year, some children are sent into the woods to clean a selection of the stones.

The mosquitoes could hardly dampen our wonder as we kept finding more hidden faces staring back from the rocks.

After exploring the nearby woods and determining that we were only wandering logging roads, we headed back down across the road to find a couple more temples. The first tiny shrine was a lucky place for girls who want to get married. Thanet got a fortune, tied a ribbon and hoped for a happy marriage. Garry interpreted that her fortune told her she was going to marry Bono. That was okay by Thanet.

We then trekked up a good set of stairs to another temple. After that, Garry led us on a wild sheep chase through the forest. Our circuitous route eventually took us back to Tono and a little market where flowers were abundant and cheap. Merely on principle, I had to buy a bouquet for Thanet. It was 100 Yen, how could I not?

We dropped Garry off, took a look at his apartment and Thanet proceeded to complain adamantly about the state of her place once more. We drove back to Kitakami where we eventually parted.

Life at the office has been slow. No complaints, just a statement. In that down time I have been allowed to think about my upcoming self-introduction (yes, I have actually thought about the teaching side of living in Japan), and touch up photos galore. Today, however, I parted ways with my trusty laptop and ventured to work solo. The rains this morning were threatening to drench all who dared pass, and with a typhoon on its way to these parts, I felt caution with my most precious cargo was in order.

But, like a certain episode of the Simpsons where Bart’s day takes every bad turn it could, I walked to work in the rain and the sun burst through the clouds as soon as I stepped into the parking lot. It didn’t rain the rest of the day. But no worries; better safe than so terribly sorry.

Really, that could have been the introduction to a miserable day. But for some reason, today’s grief actually rolled off my back. Imagine the surprise of this overly sensitive lad when all efforts to discern R’s from L’s with his students failed miserably and didn’t frustrate him in the slightest. Imagine the shock when the entire afternoon was spent with absolutely no productive endeavours to occupy his time, but still the best was made of the situation by reading anything his English eyes could understand. And the idiotic drivers. And the multiple household mishaps, not the least of which was the ingestion of unwanted meat products in spring rolls that looked ever so delicious in the store. And the aching body from the previous night’s badminton. And the post office delivering my modem a day early instead of the promised due date when I planned on being home to receive it. And the solitary confinement. And the distance from my friends and family.

No catastrophes, certainly, but certainly, these separate incidents were easily enough to shake me up in days past. They would definitely qualify as enough to put me into a not insignificant depression in circumstances where I have no recourse to friendly counselling. But here I am, alone, and happy. (And full of meat. Eww).

I have a few theories on the matter.

Number one: Perhaps I’m finally just growing up. Is this part of what happens? If so, aging isn’t so bad after all.

Number two: The good of today is not insignificant when compared to the bad. For lunch today, Michiko-san, Aya and Kazue allowed me to tag along for a lunch of hot soba and it was the best meal I have had to date in Japan. Kazue and Aya expressed excitement at their upcoming trip to visit Sarah in England. Even Michiko-san, made respectable efforts to use her English skills – her confidence sometimes fails her and she resigns herself to her native tongue, even though she is capable enough with my mother tongue. She even properly used the idiom, ‘It’s my treat’ as a final bonus to the lunch hour.

Continuing with theory number two: I received an email from the good Mr. Stiem and as brief as it was, it was nice to be in his thoughts. I don’t know if it is exclusively his influence or the fact that I am currently reading Umberto Eco’s ‘Foucault’s Pendulum,’ but I have been prompted into a bit more introspection than is customary for me these days. Let me explain; first Tyler: his fondness for intellectualism his habit of asking piquant questions (even though today, they were as brief as could be) often force me to delve a deeper into the shallow pools of my brain. As for Eco, there we have the intellectualism again, but perhaps more importantly, a well-written first-person narrative always prompts me to make a greater effort when exploring my own thoughts. I inevitably walk in the shoes of the storyteller and hope that my thoughts might (at least occasionally) be as clearly and eloquently elucidated.

And lastly, for theory number two: Chocolate-covered almonds. So good.

Now, onto theory number three: I think I may have found some sense of purpose in my life. I’ve been hunting for so long and so earnestly. Too earnestly. The weight that I have placed on my own shoulders while trying to discover my place in the world is a good explanation for why my back has been hurting for so long.

But, while my back continues to ache on occasion, the pain has been lessened, the burden has been significantly lifted. In a movie called Unbreakable (an enjoyable film – go check it out) one character suggests to another that when he finds his purpose, the mundane, melancholy life that has plagued him will disappear and satisfaction will then dominate.

Another film reference – this time from Fight Club. I am Raymond K. Hessel. Mr. Durden’s gun has been pointed at my head and I have run off into the night to make my dream come true. And indeed, my corn flakes taste great in the morning. Even the soba I eat for lunch every single day has not become dull.

And the purpose? Travel photography of course. For the last year, I have trained myself to be here, to be in an exotic land and to make beautiful images. I have to resort to another film reference, this time, Adaptation. After watching it, I remember Kevin and I discussed it and both expressed envy at the main character’s passion, his drive to succeed in his field. Neither Kevin nor I could completely identify with such intense desire. I made misguided projections about what mine might be, but even at the time, I knew I was fooling myself. I suspect Kevin knew as well.

Well Kevin, I think I may have found a place next to whichever Kaufmann was so zealously scribbling his manuscript. May it last. May it last because this feeling is wonderful. It is contentment. Contentment has seemed to elude me, but here I am, uncomfortably resting my back against the world’s most poorly designed love seat, feeling satisfied.

I get excited at the prospect of the next time I will raise my camera. Maybe tomorrow, if the typhoon dodges Japan, I can mount my bike and head to Gembeikei gorge. If not, perhaps Saturday. If not then, maybe Hazuki and I can find some spot on the coast free from the rain, if not there, then damn it, we’ll go underground at Iwaizumi and take some long exposures in the caves. And when next I’m shooting, I will lose myself, as I have with every other time I have watched Japan through my lenses. I forget I haven’t had dinner, or lunch. I forget that I woke up at 5:00 am. I forget that it’s above 30 degrees and humid as the inside of Ruben Studdard’s butt crack (just wanted to make sure you were still paying attention with that lovely image). And when I’m done, I’ll look forward to processing the photos and seeing the results then learning from my mistakes and taking heart in my successes.

I realize I still have so much more to learn, but that’s part of the fun. I have always loved learning and photography is something that will forever challenge me. I will always have room to grow or a new subject to explore in a new way. I will always have to learn about those subjects and I will, no doubt, be forced into writing about them as well (another minor passion of mine). I want to see the world, capture some of its wonder and share that knowledge with others. I want to learn how to better communicate with subjects and to create a mutual comfort between model and photographer. I want to continue to use my web skills to further my ability to share photos. Photography is very much a synthesis of many of my past pursuits. (now I just have to better integrate it with my love of music – some concert photography along the way perhaps?)

And I have not forgotten what Dostoevsky said: ‘Beauty will save the world.’ I can easily adapt his words to fit my needs. For him beauty was that which made life tolerable. Often true. But eventually, I hope eventually my photos can become even more than an escape from drudgery. I want to learn to convey a message. I want to inspire people to experience this world for themselves. I want people to make connections to these faraway lands, these foreign faces.

I’m verging on sounding like a hippy here. But for all this sentiment and idealism, I believe in these words. I hope they keep ringing true for me for some time. I recognize I have a lot of work ahead of me to be able to make this into any sort of viable career and that there are some daunting and terrifying tasks ahead of me (especially for a closet introvert like me). But I suspect this thing I have found, this passion might actually prompt me to stay the course.

Finally, while I was writing this, one of the songs passing through my randomized playlist uttered the following lyrics, the theme for the evening: ‘So, this is continuous happiness”

I hope I never stop giggling at:

• The way Torou-san says ‘moshi moshi’
• Aya’s low-pitched laugh
• Michiko-san’s grunts when she is the listener in a phone conversation
• The simultaneously surprised and contemptuous stares of old ladies as I pass
• The chorus of ‘Ohayo gosaimasu’ that everyone repeats ad nauseum in the morning and the way it transforms into ‘uhsssss’ after everyone says it a few times
• Karihara sensei’s enthusiastic attempts at speaking English to me

Get ready for a long day of nothing! I have a completely empty schedule and no Sarah to bug. So, today, we really get to see if I am capable of amusing myself. If only City Hall were like Pangaea and I could adjourn to the lounge for some darts – I miss you Charanjeet! At least I don’t have to fill in a timesheet here. Such an ordeal would bend truth way past it’s limits. I’m not sure how Sarah and I could manipulate playing chess into something relevant to teaching’

I’ve already managed to while away an hour and a half of this morning and I haven’t even gotten to journaling yet. No, I haven’t been a productive, little JET, but I have been a somewhat productive little Darby. My time is being passed going through photos from last night and emailing. Go JET go!

And now, I’ll attempt to keep up with the week’s events. Friday, a group of the Ichinoseki JETs went out for dinner and Sally and Michael from joined us nearby towns. Brent and I met outside Lawson’s near the station, as planned. The rest of the group, however, decided not to inform us that they were waiting around the corner. So Brent and I chatted a while then figured out that we were being neglected.

We walked to a second-floor restaurant whose menu suggested I would be able to eat some tomato and cucumber sandwiches. What the plastic foods outside neglected to include, however, was the egg that was crammed into every nook of the sandwiches. As appealing as that was, I had to do some scraping – the end result was rather unsatisfying, so I followed it up with an all-too-satisfying foot-tall sundae. So expensive, but so good.

Afterwards, we said some goodbyes to Sarah who was soon leaving for home for a two-week vacation. The night was young, but everyone else was off to other venues so I biked home by myself and relaxed there.

The next day, I got a late start on my plans to go to Hiraizumi. I confused my train schedules and ended up planning for the wrong time. That meant, however, that I was home when Sarah arrived to drop off her key so I could pass it along to Jo, so we got to say another farewell. Then, we repeated the procedure when I biked past her on the way to the station.

My destination in Hiraizumi for the afternoon was Motsuji temple for a walk and some photos. As with Chusonji, my photos describe the location better than I can, so I will keep my descriptions brief. However, the photos don’t capture what the place would have been like in centuries past. A mural at the site depicted the sprawling temples surrounding the lake and suggested that Motsuji was one an incredibly glorious location. Now, it is only somewhat glorious.

As I wandered, I met a couple of other teachers who work in Ichinoseki and we exchanged information. It’s always nice to know more English speakers here, so hopefully they can be an addition to my small circle of friends in Japan.

A short hike later and I was back at Chusonji where I hoped to attend the Noh performance. Unaware that a ticket was going to cost me an arm and a leg, I happily strolled toward the stage, but was confronted by the ticket sellers. I found one who spoke English who informed me that a ticket to stay until 7:45 would cost me 4000 yen. I drifted to the side of the path and deliberated. Eventually, I came to the conclusion, ‘When am I going to get the chance to see this again?’ and I bit the bullet.

But, my biggest lesson learned from this experience: Before purchasing a ticket, always ask if photos are permitted. I’m sure you can guess where this goes. As the performance was starting and the chorus was warming up for their guttural, inhuman growls and comical, high-pitched yelps, I started snapping away from my tripod. A gaijin with a tripod, a big camera and no press pass is, apparently, pretty easy to spot in a crowd of Japanese tourists and I was quickly halted in my photographic tracks. Disappointing to say the least – one of my main reasons for attending was to take photos. For me, it was like going to the theatre and not being allowed to wear glasses (if I needed glasses).

The performance itself was as bizarre as it gets on stage. After fires were lit around the viewing area, the cast slowly entered. This ancient, traditional, Japanese art form defies description. The non-rhythmic drum slaps, growls and yips from the chorus and incomprehensible melodies from the singers were the delivery method for words that only seemed like backwards gibberish to me. I couldn’t actually make out any sounds that could have been words and wondered if I was the only person so bemused.

I made an effort to follow along, but the movements were so sparse and the drama so austere, I couldn’t exactly piece together any sort of narrative. I started assembling something in my head, but it ended up being a Kafka-esque tale related more to my experience of the performance than to the performance itself. Since I couldn’t take photos, I think my brain wanted to have this experience inspire something creative, so now I have a story I need to write in my off time.

The next sketch was not accompanied by the chorus and seemed to be more amusing to the audience. A little physical comedy even drew a chuckle or two from me. From what I gathered, the story in this episode was related to an old worker who kept falling asleep at his job of stirring who knows what. He was miming the action – how could I know what he was supposed to be stirring? Some superior of his was constantly interrupting him from his naps by stomping his feet and yelling. Beyond that, I can’t elaborate much more on the subject matter.

Another operatic movement followed and was just as obfuscated as the first. All I really know about this one is that archers were somehow involved. They had arrows – I’m so astute. It did, however, give me further material for that story I might write’

I left a bit early and took some photos along the way back through Chusonji. Only a few of the locations were adequately lit, but I managed to find a few shots. There was something haunting about being near these shrines alone and in the dark.

When I reached the train station, a minor festival was underway with drumming and dancing. From the platform, I was able to watch a homemade fireworks display shooting from the road outside. I rode home with another JET, Joe, living in Miyagi prefecture then once again, ran into Sarah in the Ichinoseki station. She was waiting on her train to Sendai and caught a glimpse of me and decided to say hi and goodbye again – I guess she’s just having a hard time letting go of me. Har!

The next day I waited through the morning to hear from Jo about our trip to Matsushima. I talked with home for a while before I had to clear the line.

In the afternoon, Jo, Brent, Alice and I headed south along the expressway. We were soon in Matsushima and began a desperate search for parking. As in Aomori, our gaijin proclivity for bending rules the Japanese would deem near sacrosanct proved useful. Our options were either to park more than a few kilometers down the road or to park at the omiyage shop across the street from the viewing area. The choice was obvious.

Jo tried to justify the violation by making a purchase at the shop. After she left it in the car, we wandered around the back of the store and dodged the view of the security guard directing traffic in the parking lot. This route allowed a quick scan of some of Matsushima’s sights and I think a return visit would be worthwhile. Temples, caves and of course, the beautiful view of the bay would make for a lovely day of photographs.

We found a good spot on a bench to watch the fireworks after buying tasty crepes from one of the many festival food stands. The couple next to us was hospitable and moved the bench for our gaijin butts. We took turns gathering sustenance and then I wandered in search of photo opportunities. I carried on this way until the fireworks were set to launch from barges in the bay over top of the thousands of floating lanterns set out onto the water. When the sky burst into action, I procured one of the best possible spots at the sea wall and snapped to my heart’s content.

The yellow and red lights slowly drifting in the distance were a gorgeous sight to behold. I wish we could have been closer to them, but I suspect only the boats in the bay got an adequate view ‘perhaps next year this will be an option’

With the chest-pounding booms still echoing off the nearby hills, we started back from home. Now, Matsushima isn’t an especially large urban centre. In fact, it might best be described as a burgh. One road leads in, one road leads out. And guess where everyone needed to be to leave for home: that one road. It took us about two hours to get onto the expressway. In the meantime, we were able to people watch, swear at the idiocy of Japanese drivers, and marvel at one of the worst traffic jams I had ever experienced.

Earlier that day, Jo and Brent had been telling us just how the licensing system works for drivers in Japan. They have to take a test that is actually performed on a road course – they are never tested in actual roadway conditions. The driving schools all prepare the drivers for passing the test and little else beyond that. So, when they get onto the real roads, they have little to no experience of driving around other cars or at high speeds. Merging and following distances are left to instinct. The mystery of bad Japanese drivers has been solved.

But another interesting point is that in the case of an accident involving a cyclist and a car, it is always the driver of the car who is at fault – even if the car is parked and the cyclist runs into the vehicle. That would explain some of the courtesy the cyclists are offered here and it also hints at why the cyclists sometimes speed through city streets with an air of invincibility.

While I’m thinking of interesting facts, talking with one of the junior high teachers last week revealed that she is putting the poor kids through some serious paces while they attempt to enjoy their summer holiday. Each child continues to engage in his or her club activities during the break, but Ms. Asanuma prescribes an additional five hours of homework per student, per night. The poor kids are missing their childhood. They went wide eyed at the thought of me having more than two months vacation during the summer at their age and no homework to speak of. Once they had picked their jaws from the floor, they settled back into the chronically fatigued states of Japanese school children. The next day, Sarah and I were supposed to tutor them again, but Yusuke’s cold had not been allowed to subside and it had also spread to Daichi. Surprise, overworked kids get sick – didn’t see that coming at all.

Let’s see if Sarah is reading over my shoulder. Maybe if I type her names a few times, she’ll take notice. So, here goes. Sarah sometimes asks, ever so impishly, ‘Whatcha doin’?’ and then takes a peek at what I’m writing. Ah, I think my experiment here will be a failure – she’s just moved to the computer across from me. I suppose I can leave all that text there if she returns’ Not that I mind at all. I just like teasing her by any means at my disposal.

Anyway, what has happened since last I wrote? Not an excessive amount really. Perhaps I’m actually settling in here. Though, staring at my hands as I type, I am reminded of last night’s mosquito attack.

I went to the hill North of City Hall to explore and take photos. There, I found’

Woah. I just remembered my dream from last night. Odd. I won’t repeat it, but it was indeed odd and a little amusing.

Anyway, sorry to leave that sentence hanging – so much anticipation, I’m sure. Unfortunately, the payoff doesn’t warrant such a buildup. I found a small shrine and a somewhat disheveled Japanese garden. Beyond them was stairway leading up into the woods that passed by more of those tiny stone shrines I like so much.

While taking photos in this area, the mosquitoes caught a whiff of my scent and descended upon my exposed flesh with the ferocity of, well, a swarm of hungry mosquitoes. The little bastards left plenty of their itchy marks on my hands, arms neck and face and now, the little red spots catch my eye as I type.

Why would God make mosquitoes? I was trying to figure this out last night. The only person who could see mosquitoes as a positive addition to Earth’s bestiary is a social Darwinist. From their point of view, the disease-transmitting insects serve to weed out the weak from the strong and to kill off those whose genes would not have made a good addition to the pool.

But everyone knows that social Darwinists are idiots and assholes. No, the existence of mosquitoes is indeed further proof of God’s non-existence or it suggests that he/she/it is either not especially benevolent (downright sadistic is more like it) or doesn’t have control over all we are lead to believe (a.k.a. everything).

But here I am talking about God and Darwin in adjacent paragraphs. It’s philosophy class in the ’50s! The point is, mosquitoes are fuckers and I hate them. They marred what was otherwise a quite enjoyable photo session – a no-no in Darbyland.

Dodging the irritating little bloodsuckers (and slapping at them when their landings lacked subtlety) I ascended the hill and found a larger temple at the top of the long flight of stairs. After scolding myself for not having brought bug repellant and taking fewer photos than I would have liked in the fading light, I turned to the left where I found a confusing map of the trails on the hill.

I tried to decipher it, but I could hardly determine which way was up. I struck out on a trail at random that led me to a winding staircase and finally the transmission towers on the top of the hill. I tried to take some photos of the staircase, but I had to concede to the bugs. They were victorious and I retreated down the hill. My war wounds are visible, but fortunately, today, they are not especially itchy. I will live to slap mosquitoes another day.

Part of me almost feels bad when I kill them. The whole respecting life ideal that guides me runs contrary to the slaughter of insects, but I have to argue that it truly is in self-defense. I should have been more prepared I agree, but still, I’ll leave them alone if they don’t bother me. Actually, I’m not entirely sure I would. I really do hate the bastards. They’re just so bloody evil.

So, that was the highlight of my evening last night. Tuesday night was spent first cleaning my grubby apartment then watching ‘About Schmidt’ with Sarah. Great movie. Parts of it reminded me of my Dad – maybe because he was so keen on it when he saw it and recommended it to me. It had a perfect message for the small pessimist within me.

After the movie, we watched a bit of my illegally-procured BBC World, then listened to music. A good night.

Today, I have been trying to get a hold of people to go to the lantern festival in Matsushima on Sunday. I may have the interest of Brent and Jo piqued so we’ll see what happens.

Back to the office routine. I’ve managed to survive until just before lunchtime without getting bored. As long as I bring my laptop along for the ride, I have a few options for make-work projects. But so far today, I haven’t resorted to my usual work-unrelated tasks – I have been taking a trip down memory lane with a stint of editing.

Yes, the speech competition is fast approaching and the entries require the assistance of native English speakers. First the student writes his or her speech in Japanese, the teacher then translates and passes it off to Sarah and I to add our gaijin flare to it. I am reminded of the early-year experiences working as an editor at the Gauntlet attempting to correct the endless strings of mistakes produced by new writers (ah, Mr. Teeuwen, how could I have predicted you would provide valuable, usable experience for later in life).

I don’t mind editing and a little typesetting so much, but compared with my weekend, office life is not nearly as invigorating.

I took Friday off with one of my summer leave days and made the quick trip North to Hiraizumi. The Chusonji temple complex beckoned my camera from afar, so I followed the signs and soon reached the base of a cedar-covered hill where temples and shrines lurked in the shade.

I arrived at about 8:30 and I don’t think I left until about three in the afternoon after I had explored every inch of the place. Travel photography is definitely the life for me, and Chusonji was a fantastic place for my camera to get a workout. Each turn revealed some new wonder and I found myself either grinning or frequently uttering ‘wow’ to myself. The photos I took do a far better job of describing the marvelous temples, so I won’t belabour their description (though I really should be practicing for the potential of writing any travel articles). I think I might make the trip back during each of the four seasons to explore the complex under different conditions.

Many sweaty, giddy hours later, I started back in the direction of the station. I took a short side trip up a hill to Takatachi Gikeido where one of Hiraizumi’s ancient heroes ended his life. A climb up a couple staircases revealed a lovely view of the river valley and a one-room museum then another short climb exposed a small shrine.

Though I had not yet seen many of Hiraizumi’s sites I returned to the station with impeccable timing to catch the train. The town is so close to home, I will have no trouble returning.

Back in Ichinoseki, two of the main streets were choked by vendors, kimono-clad teens, and tanabata (streamers) galore. I briefly wandered amid the colours and ran into one of my students from the previous day, Sayaka who obliged me for a photo with her friends. But, I had little time to dawdle if I wanted to get home then return in this direction for the fireworks.

After quickly freshening up I reached the bridge to get to the shores of the river where future spectators clogged the footpath like cholesterol stalling blood to the heart. I normally wouldn’t have minded, but the sky was brilliantly lit and I wanted to get behind the lens to see if I could capture any of the fleeting hues. I managed to make it to the riverside for only one worthwhile shot as the sun set.

I chose a spot to set up my tripod in fairly random fashion and ended up placing myself in the perfect location. The display shot from across the river to my left – the river meandered past in the foreground and a lit bridge filled out the background. The display itself was rather impressive especially for such a small city. It lasted for nearly two hours with bursts of one to five minutes followed by a short breaks when a loudspeaker would babble about who knows what in Japanese. The only word that seemed at all recognizable to me was something that sounded like ‘Starmine.’ I could be wrong even though they repeated it about 60 times through the night.

At the end of the night, I talked with a few students who offered me drinks and also another girls whose English was quite good who let me use a cardboard box she had rather than resting on the damp grass. I couldn’t stay long, however, since I had to get up at a dismal hour the next day and I wanted to get at least a little sleep.

On Saturday, I woke at a quarter to five and bolted to the station to catch the train to Morioka. Once there, I explored for a while, but I had to use the help of my Japanese phrasebook to figure out where to buy a bus ticket to Aomori to meet up with the other JETs to see the Nabuta festival. One good man working at the station was kind enough to guide me to the ticket dispensers and point me in the right direction for the stop. Yay for customer service!

The bus ride was uneventful (though I did try to get off too early), but when I arrived, Maria and I had one hell of a time actually crossing paths despite being within a block of one another. A series of phone calls to her cell from various Aomori payphones eventually guided us in the proper direction.

We walked outside to Jonathan’s car and in the process of climbing into his car and being introduced to him, the sticky heat that makes clothes cling to your body in unexpected ways caused my pants to tear in the crotch. Honestly, it wasn’t my enormous genitalia (this time). I can’t say it was my classiest introduction ever, ‘Hi, I’m Darby and I’ve just torn a hole in my pants.’ Really, the gash was only apparent when I sat cross-legged (which, admittedly, occurred often during our day of sitting on the ground to see parades and fireworks). Attempting to look on the bright side, it did provide some welcome ventilation on a hot day.

Jonathan seems quite nice and is a fellow philosophy major. He and Maria make a good couple and should be fun folks to adventure with when possible. Though he’s a fellow philosophy major he doesn’t have the pretension or complete lack of charisma that woefully besets so many of our ilk.

We parked the car and crossed the Aomori streets to find Brent and Jo sitting at the sidewalk along the parade route. The tail end of the parade set itself up directly in front of us and eventually started marching forward with a long gap trailing behind. When the loop had been completed, drummers, dancers, floats and odd characters a plenty trundled past our position.

The floats were indeed impressive. Enormous paper constructions hoisted on the backs of hot, sweaty and tired men bobbed through the parade route while colossal drums boomed their rhythms deafeningly. One drum was large enough that you could have probably built a comfortable house in side. The 33-degree heat didn’t bother me so much as I was caught up in the spectacle. Maria brought a plethora of yummy snacks. The passing dancers who delivered a respectable supply of their lucky bells rewarded her generosity to us.

After looking at a number of my photos, however, I’m a little disappointed by the results produced by my telephoto lens in particular – that and my metering. The telephoto doesn’t focus quite quickly enough for such a spectacle, it’s a slow lens and I made the error of waiting too long before taking the photo after I had focused. Poor form. As for the metering, the sky seemed to encroach in many shots and I underexposed a lot of them due to its intrusive presence. Live and learn.

After the parade, we stopped at Gusto for some food and air conditioning. The most fun portion of the lunch was trying to determine the words on the front of one man’s shirt. The back read ‘because my feet get wet,’ which lead to all kinds of wild conjecture. The truth proved far less amusing than our possible answers. Maria had to go ask and it was something about building a bridge over a river.

Maria and Jonathan went back to the car to try to find a better spot, but this proved a big mistake, the spot they ended up getting was about 45 minutes further than what they originally had. A bit of a screw up really. But it just meant we got to take a walk later and see more of Amomori (though perhaps not its best side).

Meanwhile, Jo, Brent and I waded through the masses towards the harbour. Elbow to elbow, we could hardly move through the swarms. After much indecision, we settled on a plan to sneak into the area that was reserved for ticket holders. It was spectacularly easy. Originally, we were only going to sit on the steps behind the ticket checkers – that wasn’t part of the pay area, so it was no problem. Then, we just had to walk through the gate and we were in. They didn’t check tickets at the gate, so it couldn’t have been easier.

We planted our flag and sat down to watch the show. Jonathan and Maria, due to the parking fiasco, came far later after the pay area had been opened to the public. Fireworks blazed through the sky and eventually surpassed the Ichinoseki display in grandeur. Later on in the show, the best floats from today’s parade were placed on barges and illuminated from the inside while the fireworks exploded above.

At the end of this impressive display, Jonathan, Maria and I headed back to retrieve the car. Apparently, some exchange during the show had left some tension between the two couples, but for the life of me, I can’t understand how such an innocuous story could have left them all brooding as they were.

Things seemed more amicable, however, after we picked them up and headed south. Crammed in the back with Brent and Maria, I sleepily nodded through the first part of the journey, but we all conversed later on when sleep was not to be found. My inability to censor myself made me blurt out the worst of my jokes and stories – hopefully I haven’t offended anyone and they will invite me along for another road trip.

Some things here are going to irk me eventually. Here at the BOE, I can’t connect my PowerBook to the network and if I tried to get any help doing it, it would cause unending amounts of bureaucratic trouble and constant questions about why I need to be online in the first place. ‘Why can’t I just use the computer across from me?’ Well, I can, but wouldn’t it be easier for me to be working from my desk and free up the resource of the other computer?

Yeah, I’m going to check my email, but is that really going to chew up bandwidth? Yeah, I might surf a news site or two, but am I really doing anything more productive here? Ah, the underutilization begins. (But the odd thing is that I would rather be underutilized so I can work on my own projects – selfish little me would rather be thinking about photography than teaching thank you very much.)

Damn it, now my mood has gone south. No fun. I wish Joe from Pangaea were here to fix my Internet and tell everyone else to screw off. That would be good fun to see.

Here’s another major reason I would like to connect. This morning, I would like to work on my self-introductions and my instinct is to type it out, keep it organized and make it look presentable (even if I’m the only one who reads it). Well, I can either try to wrangle some time on the other computer (potentially keeping someone from using it themselves) or I could work on it at my desk. When finished, I could email it to myself (or, if there is any sort of real network here, I could just download it off my computer) then print it on the other computer (or even better, just print it from my computer!). I would only need a minute on the other computer to do this and I wouldn’t have to work on a Japanese operating system with a Japanese version of MS Word.

In weeks to come, I will want to design teaching resource materials and I can do a way better job of it on this computer than over there and again, I would not be using up a resource. Logic fails here when someone wants to try something different, even if it is more effective.