Duck Hunter
Battling a cold and the exhausting side effects of my ongoing steroid treatment, I decided yesterday afternoon’s warmth wasn’t going to be lost on me. The rising spring temperatures necessitated a departure from my cloistered apartment.
Of late, a favourite location for afternoon wanderings has been the banks of the river. There, Siberian swans make their winter home and mingle with the other local water foul – ducks galore. The slow-moving, shallow river is an ideal place for the birds to flock in the middle of the city. Families swoop down the river’s embankments with bread and birdseed a plenty and a virtual torrent of gastronomic delights showers over the rivers residents.
The river is always a relaxing place for me to visit. I can always find something there to fill the frame of my camera. The swans and ducks are usually willing (and challenging) subjects and families fronted by cute Japanese kids are frequently mingling with the birds. Occasionally, some other surprise shows up too – last week, I witnessed 20 men learning how to carve wooden owls using chainsaws. I love these random encounters.
But yesterday, my random encounter of the day wasn’t quite as amusing as watching 20 grown men learn to create art using power tools.
It began as I was taking photos of my feathered friends. Since I have become a semi-regular patron of the riverbank, I have started to become attuned to the behaviour of some of the birds. At least, I can now sense when their behaviour is abnormal. Today, the ducks seemed to have something disturbing their watery peace. With a noticeable frequency, large groups of ducks simultaneously were taking flight, circling around in the sky and skimming back down in another section of the river. With limited ornithological knowledge, I guessed something was bothering them, but had no idea what.
I didn’t think too much of it drew my camera from my bag. Crouching down to put myself at eye level with the swans, I was approached by an old man who couldn’t have been more than five feet tall. He had been feeding the ducks and swans and seemed curious about my camera.
Now, some of the Japanese people I meet are much better at communicating with this ignorant foreigner than others. If they can speak English, they try to use it. If they can’t, they dumb down their Japanese so that I have a chance to follow them with my rudimentary knowledge of the language. Combine that with animated gestures and expressions and usually we can cross the cultural divide – messages get successfully transmitted and received.
This miniature man, however, was not so accommodating. Barely having to stoop down to put his eyes level with mine in a crouching position, his words came quickly and didn’t slow even when they were only met with my repeated responses of, ‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand.’ He didn’t relent and continued to ask me questions about who knows what. Usually, I can catch a word or two and can start to assemble some intelligible information, but he didn’t seem to want to give me any simple words to work with.
Eventually tiring of my inability to comprehend his questions, he wandered off to feed more ducks and left me to continue my photographic pursuits in peace.
Shortly thereafter, however, I heard a strange sound and turned to see another group of ducks quickly taking flight. The only person near that now fluttering mass of feathers was the old man. Looking slightly closer, I noticed something in his hands besides his bag full of birdseed and bread. He was turned away, so I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I saw a slingshot.
Shocked, I tried to get a better look, but his hands didn’t reveal their cargo. He wandered up the bank of the river to another group of docile ducks bobbing near the shore. He slowly approached them and, sure enough, quickly loaded and took aim with his weapon and proceeded to pelt a duck with his missile.
The duck was not killed, but he was obviously hurt by the attack. The other ducks from the same group had taken flight and the victim of the shot was now hobbling up onto the shore. The old man slowly took a couple of steps towards it before it was able to shake off its injury and take to the sky.
Meanwhile I was striding towards him, asking what on earth he was doing. I wasn’t about to start flipping through my phrasebook to try to get to the bottom of this. Japanese doesn’t exactly roll off my tongue at the best of times, but with an elevated temper, there was no way anything remotely close to a real sentence was going to be formed by my lips.
‘What are you doing? Why are you shooting ducks?’ Was about all I could stammer out. I kept asking him ‘Why?’ in Japanese and for all I know, he answered me and gave me some explanation, but I couldn’t make any sense of his responses to my angry questions. I did, however, remain composed – he could easily have gotten more of a verbal offensive than he did.
But all the while, I got a sense from him that he knew he was doing something wrong. I can’t say exactly what tipped me in that direction, but he didn’t seem like he was defending himself with any sort of self-righteousness.
With me angrily shaking my head at him, and both of our words failing to reach their mark, he started wandering further down the bank of the river. Bewildered by the exchange, I tried to determine if there was some good reason for his actions. Given the information I had, I just couldn’t see how it was okay for him to arm himself with a slingshot in the middle of the city to try to pick off ducks in an area frequented by families.
I decided there wasn’t going to be any more ducks hurt by this man today. He slowly ambled away, but constantly kept turning back to see if I was looking at him. Indeed, my icy glare greeted him each time and he nervously turned back towards his path.
As he approached another group of unsuspecting ducks, I followed at a distance. He stopped next to them and appeared ready to repeat his previous actions, but he took one look at me and apprehensively restarted his walk. He continued on to a distant park bench where he sat and continued glancing in my direction. Not having a tight schedule for the afternoon, I was free to remain in position, at the ready to shoo him away from the riverbank if necessary. Not on my watch, buddy.
He eventually yielded and I saw him wander over the embankment. Satisfied that he wasn’t going to be bothering the ducks any more, I strolled to a nearby tennis court where a group of my students were practicing. While I chatted with them, I noticed the man was now sitting inside the tennis courts watching the practice. I don’t know if he was somehow related to any of the students, but he didn’t remain there long. I didn’t see him leave, but when I was departing the courts, I saw him walking his bike away. He noticed me and resumed his uncomfortable backwards glances in my direction as I steered myself in the other direction.
I’m confident he didn’t return to the river that day, but I have no idea if he makes a habit of inner city hunting. Hopefully, the thought of the scary, duck-defending gaijin is enough of a deterrent and he won’t be disturbing the peace of the riverbank again soon.
A Crush (Part II)
1:40 pm
My Hagishou girlfriend has struck again. At lunch time, two of dear Toshie’s friends entered the teacher’s room with a Hello-Kitty-adorned gift bag in hand and presented it to me. They stammered out, ‘From Toshie,’ and giggled when I reacted to the cuteness of her crush.
As they laughed and left the room, I opened the package to find one heart-shaped chocolate wrapped in pink foil, a bag filled with incredibly delicious soft chocolates (I want more of these, they really were wonderful) and a letter from Toshie. Her note reads as follows:
‘This is a little days late valentine’s chocolate. I heard you come today. So I made it yesterday. Be my valentine! I love you.
I will graduate from Hagishou junior high school soon. So let’s keep in touch. Let’s exchange letters.
Please write me back if you have time.
Lots of love,
Toshie’
She neatly transcribed her address in both Japanese and English and also provided her email. I can’t really think of too many reasons not to give her my email. The only concern I would have is that it might get passed around among the students resulting in a few unsolicited messages, but that probably wouldn’t be a big deal. I could tell her it was secret too. She’d probably like that.
Focus! Focus!
10:00 am
I’m fairly tired of being preoccupied with my eye. I would like to be able to move on and resume a normal life (insofar as that is possible for me here in Japan), but every time I look at something, I am reminded of my niggling concern.
In a way, becoming focused on this one worry has been beneficial. All my other cares fell by the wayside and healing myself became my one and only priority. The only real stress I’ve felt has been related to my health. Problems that once kept me awake at night have been swept off the table.
But now, as my eye begins to heal, I have to find some way of tidying up the messes without getting overwhelmed again. This ordeal has brought in a little perspective, so I hope that will sustain me for a while. I do feel a certain carpe diem drive that hasn’t been present for a couple months, so maybe I’ll be able to ignore the door when my troubles come knocking.
Of course, as soon as I write about getting better, I notice a new symptom. I’m now seeing small spots. Maybe one at a time will dance through my vision like a fly on potato salad. When I try to look at them, they dart off and can only be found in the periphery. Let’s hope that’s a symptom that doesn’t last long.
I Wear My Sunglasses…
I’m sure I must look like a bit of a curiosity right now. I’m melting in my chair from exhaustion and wearing sunglasses inside the teachers’ room at Hagishou Junior High. The teachers all now seem to know of my eye’s condition, but any student that sees me today is just going to think I’m hungover or something. If only there was an equal part of pleasure to go with this pain’
I have had my one and only class today and managed to stumble through it without too much trouble. If I didn’t have Prednisone coursing through my veins at present, I would be feeling chipper and playing basketball in gym class with the kids right now. That’s a bit more fun than chronicling this dreary disease afflicting me.
Metamorphosis of a Cyclops
I seem to have forgotten that I like writing. Actually, for the last few days, I’ve been a little preoccupied. I’ve had some health trouble. My left eye is now an inflated disk of blurry evil. So, I was also a little worried about looking at the bright, blank, white page that comes with each startup of Word.
But, it’s not so bright that I want to scream. And a little writing might keep me occupied until my next set of eye drops (which, considering I have to put them in every hour, won’t be long).
In truth, I expect I won’t be returning to this text anytime soon. These are not days upon which I will look fondly in the future. Monday may have been my worst day here in Japan and I spent a good portion of it in tears. I can only talk about this now because I believe the worst is over and the worst never got as bad as it could have.
It began on February 12th. After taking a trip out to Geibikei Gorge with Sarah to meet up with some slightly more Northern Iwateans, we ventured back to Sarah’s for dinner and a movie. While viewing the film, I grew fairly fatigued and when it was over I was ready for bed right away. I had also had a headache centered around my left eye. Nothing too spectacular, but enough for me to reach for a couple pills to dull the ache.
As I was leaving and turning to say goodbye to Sarah, I got a shot of pain in my eye as I turned from the dark exterior of her apartment to the brightly lit kitchen. She also noticed that I had a rather bloodshot left eye. I suspected it was just yet another symptom of my chronic fatigue of the last few months, so I went home to rest and, hopefully, take care of the problem.
The next morning, however, did not bring the relief I desired. Prying open my left eye revealed a world of fog. A photographic trick for achieving a certain kind of blur is to smudge some Vaseline onto a filter in front of the lens. That’s how the world appeared to me.
I hoped that the feeling would pass, but while I went through my morning rituals, the improvement was minimal. I called Sarah and she, in turn, called her friend Sayumi who happens to be a pharmacist. The Sayumi cavalry arrived with multiple eye drops in hand and a recommendation for an eye clinic on Monday.
Never having been a fan of inserting anything into my eye, the drops proved to be a bit of a challenge at first. I treated myself and hoped this was a one-day freak occurrence.
St. Valentine brought no love for my fuzzy vision. I woke and saw no improvement in my condition. I prepared to make my first visit to a Japanese health care-professional. I had hoped to avoid the experience, but that was not in the cards.
To try to break down the inevitable communication barrier, I first stopped at the Board of Education and got Aya to write down my symptoms so that I would be able to tell the doctor what was wrong with me.
I trudged over to the clinic, handed them the sheet of my problems and hoped this wouldn’t be too much of an ordeal.
They patiently dealt with me and my horrendous Japanese while administering basic eye check tests. Soon, I was in the doctor’s room where he did some more checks on the culprit eye. Routine checks with lights pointed into my eye were no problem, but then, I was asked to keep my head and chin pressed against a support. Slowly, some kind of instrument approached my reluctant eye and they told me to look down.
A gooey lens of some sort was being pressed up against my cornea. Not having a clue what was going on combined with my eye phobia and I became a little bit panicked. My eyelids kept pushing the instrument out from its intended target and I had to fall away from the test to relax.
They calmed me down and I eventually completed the test. I’ve later learned that it was a fairly routine way of checking the pressure in my eye, but considering the circumstances, I think my apprehension was completely understandable.
Aya was kind enough to write down her phone number on the sheet of symptoms and the clinic was quick to call her to try to relay information to me. They wanted to put drops in my eyes that would make it difficult for me to see, so they wanted someone to come to the clinic so that I would be able to safely return home. Thankfully, Aya was able to join me at the clinic and serve as a translator for the rest of my time there.
After administering eye drops a plenty, the doctor went in to inspect more eye issues. Eventually, he diagnosed me with Acute Anterior Uveitis (AAU). Of course, I didn’t really know what that meant, but he tried to explain what was going on. Essentially, my iris and parts of my eye near the iris had become inflamed. He said that it can happen when a patient suffers a trauma to the eye (which I hadn’t) or when the patient has recently battled an infection (again, I hadn’t).
So, the cause was a mystery, but his prescription was three drops I had to take four times a day. They were to take down the inflammation and things should get back to normal. I would see him in a few days and we would check my progress then,
Thursday rolls around and it feels as though my eye has improved. I go back to the clinic and he affirms my self-diagnosis. The iris was still inflamed, but not as badly as before. He showed me photos he had taken of my eye on each doctors visit and in the first photo, there was a streak of white cells in the cornea that were no longer present in the newer version. My vision was getting better, so I was pleased that things were going smoothly.
I continue along on the same course of medication and I am scheduled to return to the clinic in a week.
Up until Sunday, I believe I was progressing. My vision continued to improve ever so slightly, so I was content to continue on the same path. But then, Sunday rolls around and I open my eye a sheath of impenetrable murk. I could hardly make out any shapes at all. This was not good. This was scary. Why wasn’t this getting any better?
I start doing some more research on this affliction of mine and learn something startling. The AAU plaguing me is most likely caused by another condition from which I suffer: ankylosing spondylitis (AS). Now, AS affects my back and hip. I never thought it could somehow be related to an eye problem, but apparently, 30% of people who suffer from AS end up suffering AAU. In fact, many people are diagnosed with AS when they are first attacked by AAU.
I started looking up more information about AS and learned more about what causes it and the effects it can produce. I won’t go into a bunch of medical jargon that I don’t really understand anyway, but the easiest way to put it is that I got blessed with an unlucky gene that makes a naturally-occurring bacteria in my digestive system do nasty things to me.
One of the weird things about this particular bacteria is that it feeds off starch. So, one of the means of combating the symptoms of AS is to go on a no-starch diet (NSD). Often, this is preceded by a three-day cleanse diet during which the menu features nothing but apples. The apple thing seemed pretty extreme to me and the NSD is nigh impossible for a vegetarian living in Japan (not to mention my total incompetence in the kitchen).
But I was getting desperate. Instead of my favourite food, pizza, Sunday night’s dinner would be a salad-oriented affair.
The next morning, my vision had not improved, so I became even more desperate and decided I might give the apple diet a try. Two apples for breakfast later and I was off to city hall to get further translation work done by Aya. I wanted to be able to tell the doctor that I suffered from AS and perhaps this would help in guiding my treatment. Aya, however, was able to join me in my visit to the doctor and Michiko-san tagged along as the third member of team Darby.
After the initial tests, I went back into the doctor’s office and he began taking more photos of my eye. Well, I was no longer making progress. Just the opposite, actually. The inflammation had gone up and I was now hosting some disgusting looking white fluid at the base of my iris called hypopyon. I believe it is actually an accumulation of white blood cells that drifts down from the middle of my cornea. When he showed me the picture, I was shocked and terrified. ‘What is that? Please tell me what that is,’ was all I could stammer out and he couldn’t really explain it to me fully.
And the panic came back. I started to get really worried about the state of my eye and if I was going to be okay. Also, I detected a hint of desperation in his voice that didn’t exactly inspire confidence in me. I got the impression that things were not exactly going well here.
He wanted me to go to the hospital to get a complete physical to better determine what was going on. I started to get terribly worried and one glance at the disgusting photo of my eye up on his computer screen was enough to drive me to tears.
The doctor wrote down all of his findings and we were sent off to the hospital. After a series of maneuvers through the hospital’s bureaucracy that would have baffled me completely without Aya’s help, I was eventually admitted to the eye unit. There, the same tests repeated themselves and I was again administered some slow-acting eye drops.
Lunchtime was rolling around and my two-apple breakfast was hardly sustaining me. We went downstairs to the snack shop where we were accosted by a bizarre English speaker who thought I would really want to chat with him in the middle of my hospital visit. Since that wasn’t exactly the case, we diverted our course to the nearby convenience store where my search for apples to continue my cleansing diet was fruitless (sorry for the pun).
A few snacks later, we wandered back to the eye ward where I was promptly ushered to the doctor’s desk. Here’s where it gets a bit ugly.
After blazing what felt like concentrated sunlight into my eye, he started giving me the bad news. I was in danger of losing my eyesight. With an inflamed iris, fluid from behind the iris cannot escape to the front of the eye. Thus, pressure can build up inside the eye creating strain on the ocular nerve and eventually damaging it leading to glaucoma. A cataract was also a possibility.
Now, if the pressure got really bad, I would likely feel a sharp pain in my eye or a bad headache or severe nausea. If this occurred, I was to return to the hospital with all speed and I would be given emergency surgery that involved blowing a hole through my iris to relieve the pressure.
Not eager to face that prospect, he told me one of the steps that might be necessary to halt the inflammation and pressure before it got to such a critical stage: I would have to get an injection of steroids into my eye. Yes, into my eye. Not around it. In it.
This qualifies as, literally, one of my worst nightmares. Now, I’m an incredible coward when it comes to needles in the first place. I’ve passed out from blood tests and vaccinations and yes, during my tattoo session. It’s not a pain issue. I’ve felt pain far worse than any needle I’ve experienced and came out conscious. It’s psychological. I can’t really explain it, but I simply cannot relax properly when it comes to needles.
I already told you how awful I was when it came to eye problems, so just imagine how petrified I became at combining these two phobias. I asked if it was going to be possible to knock me out for such an endeavour and the answer was no. He told me that a local anesthetic would be dropped into my eye and then the injection would follow. I didn’t even understand how this could be possible. In all seriousness, I couldn’t see a way for me to allow this procedure to be done to me. I would freak out, perhaps punch someone and run screaming from the hospital bed. Huge doses of Valium or something were going to be required.
Needless to say, when informed of this horrendous prospect, I was back in tears. My fright got the best of me.
With my adrenaline still pumping like mad, he gave me orders to double my eye drop dosage and to take steroid pills. If the eye hadn’t improved in 24 hours, I was to have the injection.
I went home in terror and spent much of the afternoon in a panic. Calmed ever so slightly by friendly visitors and phone calls, I was able to get some sleep. Sarah was kind enough to remain at my house in case of emergency and as soon as I finish writing this, I’m going to have to burn a CD thank you gift for her.
I woke the next morning with the most minor improvement from the previous day and set out to arm myself with as much knowledge as possible. My research suggested that I was actually being under-medicated (possibly a first in Japan). I took it upon myself to up my dosage of steroid drops that morning.
A couple hours later, my vision seemed to have improved a little and I was feeling a bit more relaxed. While I was feeling more confident, that relaxation didn’t last long when I arrived at the doctor’s office in the afternoon. A few tests preceded my trip to his darkened desk where he peered into my afflicted eye once more.
No injection! I can’t express how relieved I was. The pressure was down. The inflammation was down. My pupil was wide open and the fluid from the back of my eye was properly draining. I actually raised my fists in triumph and yelled a celebratory Japanese ‘Sugoi!’ in the doctor’s office, which prompted giggling from the members of team Darby.
Things were looking better. He decided to keep me on the raised dosage of steroid drops and I also got him to give me a nighttime ointment for my eye that was recommended to me. Also, I was to keep up the steroid regimen. He said I would be able to go back to work as well. In my excitement, I said I would try to go to work the next day – I was feeling great at the time, so why not?
I felt great when I got home. I talked with Sarah who was now suffering from a bad headache, so I figured I would repay her previous night’s kindness by fetching something from the grocery store for her. I quickly experienced one of the side effects of the steroids: fatigue. By the time I had purchased the milk and shuffled to Sarah’s I was exhausted.
Today, my vision seems to still be improving by small degrees, but when I woke, I felt quite exhausted. I told the office I didn’t think I would be able to teach today. Aya responded that when I said I would be able to work the previous day, the schedule at the school had been changed to accommodate me and making all the changes was difficult for them, so could I please go and teach the classes?
I conceded and grumpily prepared to amble through the snow. Unfortunately, the previous night’s fatigue promptly invaded and the walk to school left me spent. Ready to collapse, I entered the teacher’s room at Yamanome elementary school and tried to prepare myself for a couple hours of teaching.
All the present teachers, however, saw my wretched state and quickly cancelled my visits to class. I was driven home with a bit of an ‘I told you so’ attitude being projected in the general direction of the Board of Education.
How to Irritate a Geek (Part II)
I just need to point out that if the network had been down for this long at a real company, someone would have been fired by now.
A Crush
One of my students has a crush on me. No doubt, this is a common occurrence and hardly noteworthy in circles occupied by teachers, but it’s new to me, and thus, good fun.
Her name is Toshie and she is one of my grade nine students. Each time I have been at her school, my presence around her has induced giggles and blushing a plenty, but this most recent sojourn to Hagishou Jr. High has seen her step up her level of involvement.
Last week, while engaging in snow-based combat with my students after lunch, a sing-song yell of ‘I love you Darby-sensei!’ chimed from the school balcony over the battle cries and sounds of snowballs slapping exposed heads. Ok. Well, I guess I can play along with a harmless crush, ‘I love you too!’ Screams and delighted giggles followed.
Yesterday, in her class, I was asking questions to each student such as ‘Where do you live?’ and ‘What are you going to do next Sunday?’ All these questions are from a set list and I was randomly choosing questions for each student.
When I reached Toshie, I randomly chose, ‘Do you want to go abroad?’ She happily responded with the canned answer of ‘Yes, I do.’ Now, this question comes with a couple of follow up questions. Next on the list is, ‘Where do you want to go?’ Her face beginning to flush, she answered, ‘I want to go to Canada.’
Before I asked the third question, I naively thought to myself, ‘Cool, she wants to go to my home country. I wonder why.’ And so I asked the follow-up, ‘Why do you want to go there?’
Before finishing, my naivet’ had faded and I already knew the answer to her question. I couldn’t stifle my laughter and neither could the rest of the class. By this point, Toshie was as red as the bars of the Canadian flag. Her classmates giggled at her and she slapped back at them while laughing at her predicament.
But, brave girl that she is, she managed to regain her composure long enough to ignore the hilarity surrounding her and blurt out her reply, ‘To meet Darby-sensei!’ Laughter and applause erupted in the classroom while the red-faced girl re-took her seat. My belly ached from laughing with all the kids.
The next morning, in between classes, Toshie appeared in the teachers’ room and stopped me as I passed her. She handed me a miniature envelope sealed with a sticker featuring the faces of her and a friend while adequately delivering a, ‘This is for you.’ She also passed me a small, hand-stitched Hello Kitty head with a little, green bowtie. In her other hand she held another of these most-beloved Japanese icons with a pink bow-tie. She pointed to the one she had just given, ‘This is you’ and at her own feline friend, ‘This is me.’
Before I could finish expressing my gratitude, she had giggled her way out the door.
In the Hello Kitty envelope written on Hello Kitty paper was a note that read as follows:
‘Dear Darby
Thank you very much for everything. You are so cool, so I am in love with you. We can’t meet some days. I’ll miss you. I’m looking forward to seeing you again. Do come back to see us.
Lots of love,
Toshie’
Not only is that that the cutest thing in the world, but the English is pretty good too!
So, to Toshie, I want to thank you for providing the most memorable and uplifting moments of an otherwise grey week.
Christmas Vacation
My fantastic winter vacation to Bali and Malaysia has gone largely undocumented in the written word. My camera, however, was rarely resting, so some idea of my trip’s stories should be available by browsing through my many pixels.
January was largely occupied by re-acquainting myself with Japan and my work routine, developing a (rejected) proposal for taking paid leave during the March school break, attempting to figure out what I wanted to do with my life in the near future and dealing with all of the ensuing drama and stress.
The dust has now settled and here’s what’s in store for me: When my contract with JET is finished, I will be accepting an invitation to come to Kuala Lumpur to be the roommate of my earstwhile travelling partner. There, I will be allowed to enjoy a low cost of living and build up my business as a full-time photographer. It’s scary as hell, but pretty damn exciting too.
Here Kitty!
Yesterday, while riding my bike to Ichinoseki elementary school, I almost ran over a dead cat.
While crossing a small bridge and nearing the last block of my journey, I was confidently peddling along the street. Up ahead, in a quick glance, I noticed what I thought was a discarded plastic bag resting about a foot away from the curb. I thought little of it. I would steer between the curb and the bag and if I should happen to navigate poorly, I would err on the side of the bag. So what if I run over an empty plastic bag, right?
Still confidently riding along, I approached the gap and glanced down again to plan my trajectory when an alarm when off. The alarm sounded something like my voice rising in shock at the sight fast approaching my front wheel, ‘Whaaaaaagh!’ Yeah, something like that.
Someone’s poor, little, white cat had suffered some mortal injury and was now sprawled on the pavement. Really, it looked like it was just resting comfortably, but I know for a fact that this was indeed a dearly departed feline – no living cat would allow a cyclist to pass within inches of its ears without darting away let alone not blinking.
So, little Fluffy would have had the shock of a lifetime, had her life not already been over. And I had a good fright too. I was surprised enough by the discovery that while my cry of shock was still escaping my lips, I veered away from the corpse. The sound of my pedal scraping along the curb awoke me to the fact that there really wasn’t any place to veer to. Grating along the concrete, I poured all of my willpower into not hitting the cat and not toppling over the curb.
I narrowly escaped both of those fates and came through with little more than a racing heart. If luck were more cruel to me, however, I could have easily noticed the cat’s presence earlier, veered into the curb, lost my balance and face-planted into the body of the former pet. Not only would that have been a traumatizing memory worth of at least a couple therapy sessions, but it would have given me the allergic reaction of a lifetime. It might have made this story more interesting, but I’m damn happy it didn’t turn out that way.
Here Comes November
I’ve been going through a bit of a slump lately. I think a few things are catching up with me. My lack of sleep is running me down and the cold I’ve had keeps lingering. Combine that with the increasingly short daylight hours, the increasingly intense work hours and what I think might be the onset of culture shock and you have a boy struggling to stay smiling.
The good news is that step one to solving these difficulties is now complete. I’ve identified them. So, let’s move on to potential solutions.
Tomorrow, I’m planning on tracking down an alarm clock. A loud one. It has to be loud because I’m going to start wearing earplugs to bed. The loading dock, the ravens, the baby next door – their cries will all fall on my deaf, plugged ears.
That should help with the cold and that should be on its way out anyway. To prevent this from happening again, some serious hand washing has become a part of my school routine. Those kids are going to have to put their boogers directly in my mouth for me to get sick from them. And if they try that, it will be their health that’s in jeopardy.
The daylight hours thing is tricky. This bothers me at home too. November is always a problematic month for me and frequently sees me pining for some equatorial region when the sun’s hours are constant and where I won’t have to worry about these long nights. I think one thing that’s important for me is to make sure I get outside at least a little bit each day. A lunchtime walk or something will keep me a bit more sane. This might be difficult depending on which school seeks my services, but the more I see of the friendly ball of fusion up high in the sky, the happier I will be.
The work hours seem to be slowing down a little and I’m starting to learn how to deal with the long weeks. I’ve had a couple quite challenging ones and I took the second one much more in stride than the first, so hopefully, I can continue that trend.
And lastly, the culture shock. This one’s a bit trickier because I haven’t exactly been in circumstances like this before. Sure, my time in Ghana gave me my share of fits, but this is a whole new situation. (And I still blame the Larium for much of my African instability.) But, I do have a number of coping strategies to try out and some thinking to do. I’ll manage.
But for now, I think the lack of sleep is catching up with me. Keeping my eyes open is getting rather difficult. I best stop typing lest I faceplant into my PowerBook.
A Story About Poo
Two days ago, I was enjoying a fine evening with Sarah and Hannah. We had enjoyed a delicious meal and were in the middle of watching a recent episode of the Daily Show when that ubiquitous Japanese song starts playing. You know the one, it rings out to herald the arrival of anyone to anywhere. During any given five-minute visit to the convenience store, the bubbly tune will pierce your eardrums at least a dozen times as new customers enter. It’s a wonder the employees don’t go mad.
The same tune plays when a guest arrives at my home. Perplexed at who might be interrupting my half hour of comedy power, I went to the door to find a flustered man speaking loads of fast-paced Japanese to me. He was treated to my usual barrage of wakarimasen and gomen nasai, but undaunted by my ignorance, he pressed on.
Eventually, I heard the word toilet and started to suspect what this evening call might be addressing. Sarah approached behind me and offered her assistance with translation. Apparently, what this blustery fellow was rambling about was that my toilet tank was full.
Yes, the modern industrial nation that is Japan still relies in good part on septic systems. They have some of the finest technology in the world, but they haven’t quite figured out plumbing yet. And this from a culture obsessed with cleanliness. What may be worse, however, is that some areas have sewers, others don’t. So, you know they have the technology to efficiently dispose of human waste, but they simply have chosen not to use it or upgrade to it.
A given apartment’s waste tank needs to be emptied every once in a while. The poo truck must be summoned and employees with what might be the worst job the world jump to the task of transporting feces from your tank to their truck and off to a god forsaken facility where, hopefully, it’s dropped into a bottomless pit.
The pit at the bottom of my toilet, however, is not bottomless. And this distraught neighbour of mine was coming to inform me of this fact. You see, the poo truck has to have some kind of access to the tank – there must be some opening to the outside world where their hoses can reach the effluent. That hole just so happens to be directly outside the door of this neighbour residing below me. And when there is too much shit in the tank, guess where it goes…
Yeah, it bubbles over. It bubbles over even if there is a welcome mat on top of the lid. It bubbles over then flows down the front step into the parking lot. A stream of shit, right outside his door.
How was I to know? I couldn’t really. I didn’t know when it had last been emptied or how often it was required. And I rectified the situation as quickly as I could by calling for ye olde poo truck the following day.
Today, however, while I was at school, the neighbour called city hall and complained of the stains left behind on his front step. Rivulets of feces left their mark on the concrete as they made their downhill journey to the parking lot. He stated his messy case to city hall, and while I was unleashing my unending genki powers on the good children of Nakasato Elementary school, two of my co-workers went to his apartment and cleaned it. I wish they would have waited an hour for me to get back and I would have gone to do it myself, thus being spared the guilt of a totally uninvolved party having to scrub my excrement from my neighbour’s front step.
So that’s my poopy story for the day. It leaves me wondering what demented architect would think to place the lid for the tank directly outside another apartment’s door. Even a seven-year-old, if told to solve such a design problem, would not have made such a completely illogical choice (unless he was playing a malicious joke). There’s no good reason why the hatch couldn’t have been at least a few feet from the door and in the parking lot. Nope. Right under his doormat. Good thinking.
Bo Knows Soft-Tennis
I suppose I could be processing images right now, but I’m entitled to a lazy moment or two aren’t I? Instead, I’ve started up a game of chess and, for some reason, the computer seems to be taking an age to make each of its moves. Really, I’m not that good; it hardly needs that much effort to best me.
So, that affords me the opportunity to write a few lines in between turns (though, I suppose I could be studying the board – but like I said, I’m not that good). Again, I have lapsed in my journal scribbling duties and this will be yet another half-hearted attempt to repent. Though, in truth, I wish the computer would just hurry up.
Here’s a quick rundown of last weekend. On Friday, Kurt, Racheal, Sarah and I headed downtown to partake in some of the yumminess that is the Paper Moon Pizza Company. We chatted the evening away while celebrating Sarah’s birthday. I’ve had a lingering cold and on Friday, it was consistently keeping me coughing, so I decided against continuing the evening after pizza.
On Saturday, I woke up late and had trouble gaining any momentum. I was originally thinking of a more ambitious trip, but my slow pace suggested a relaxed day of shooting photos near the river. I wandered there and found some kids, an old man, some ducks and crows to snap then started ambling South. There was a great stretch near the river where dozens of small gardens nestled together to form a small community farm.
Once I crossed the river, I found a Russian Orthodox Church. I don’t have a clue what this thing is doing in Ichinoseki, but there it was. I then followed the sound of some loudspeakers and reached the previously unexplored (by me) Ichinoseki Sports Park. Yasakae Junior High was playing a baseball game, so I challenged myself to try a bit of sports photography.
A few of my students from Ichinoseki elementary were there and said hi. Then a few students from Hagishou arrived and said more than hi. They were rather chatty and we passed the Japanese phrasebook between us a number of times to facilitate out communication. Their school played in the next baseball game, so we watched that for a while, then they invited me to go play soft tennis with them.
The three girls and lead me to a couple guys from the school who were to be their tennis partners. We gathered under the lights and started smacking that bizarre little ball around. Why they don’t just play normal tennis is a mystery to me, but this was plenty fun once I got used to the ball. After a bit of warming up, I was even able to blast one colossal serve into the opposing court much to the delight of my students who quickly dubbed me “The Rocket.”
On Sunday, I went up to Hiraizumi to catch the temples in their fall colour glory. The day would have been great if it weren’t for the people. I just don’t get it – everyone took an inconsiderate pill and the active ingredient was highly effective. I don’t feel like getting into the methods used by everyone to treat me like crap, but suffice it to say, jerks the whole lot of ’em.
Sarah and Hannah happened to be on the same train back, so they invited themselves over to my place to watch BBC world. Sarah also cooked dinner for us, so I think I actually came out on top in the deal.
Okay, a Little Bit o’ Lebron
The last two days have been great – happy as could be. I’ve had a wonderful time at school. Classes have gone smoothly and have been fun. Yesterday, I stayed after school and took photos of the kids in wood shop. Today, I was just going to watch the kids play volleyball when they asked me to join. Then, their teacher asked me to join for a later class in the day. I had lunch with one of the third grade classes and we actually communicated. I’ve had good conversations with other teachers and when I wasn’t doing any of that or marking homework, I have been processing photos. Not a bad time at all.
Not to mention last night’s basketball game. Yeah, we lost, but I learned that I’m capable of summoning up a bit of fire when my will so dictates. We were down by a lot after the first half and it was pissing me off a bit. In the third quarter, I lifted my game and managed to get a bunch of baskets, steals and so on. Just to be a full on nerd, let’s take my stat line and double it to get the equivalent of 40 minutes of playing time. So, in 40 minutes, I would have had 24 points, 10 rebounds, 5 assists, 6 steals, 2 blocks. Pretty good. I’m pretty sure I had 12 points, anyway. It was 10 or 12, so maybe I should say I would have had 22). The rest seems about right (I wasn’t sure about 2 or three assists, so I split the difference there). And I should have had another block, but the ref called a foul on a play that was all ball. Hell, it was all ball twice. I got ball on the way up, then again at the top.
Anyway, I had fun challenging myself to play better. One of my elementary students from Yamanome was there with his dad who was playing on my team. I gave him five for good luck. He didn’t get it until I gave him ten. He was pretty cute and so was his dad who complained of not having played in 15 years – golf was his game now. He played just fine though.
Tokyo
I think I want to live in Tokyo. At least for a while. Until my money runs out.
I have to try to sum up everything I did in five days there. Unfortunately, my sister’s knee problem prevented her from joining me, but since I had the time booked off from work, I decided to make the most of it and venture sSouth on my own.
Wednesday, October 13
- Woke early to catch the shinkansen. Happily I was able to nap a bit. Then I was joined by a man named Kei, a Japanese tour guide whose English was impeccable. We talked about travel and his job and he made a few recommendations for things to do and see in Tokyo.
- It was raining when I arrived, so I decided to get off at Ueno station and go to the museum until the rain relented. The museum was interesting enough. I was a little tired and anticipated a busy schedule, so I hurried and didn’t retain as much as I could have.
- I wandered quickly through the other building that housed the Gallery of Eastern Antiquities then went back into the gardens behind the museum.’
- It turns out, I wasn’t supposed to be there. After about ten minutes, a security guard came and escorted me out.
- I took some photos in Rinno-ji where the groundskeeper had a bunch of small porcelain statues of puppies and such lurking in his garden. The grounds were beautiful and a nice introduction to the temples of Tokyo.
- The next stop was the Tokugawa Shogun cemetery. A gorgeous place with a myriad of hidden visual treasures. I think it may have been at this point where I started thinking I wanted to move to Tokyo. There are just so many places to explore – you’d never get bored. I started thinking that if you’re bored in Tokyo, you’re probably dead.
- I Walked back through Ueno park and fought the temptation to go to the zoo. If I had more time, I would have taken a look. Instead, I walked past the five storey pagoda and headed for Tosho-gu – another lovely temple. I also strolled past the blue tents of the homeless that had taken over the empty spaces between the trees of the park.
- With much of Ueno still unexplored, I headed back for the train station where I soon figured out the difference between the JR stations and the metro stations. I eventually found the station I needed and headed for my hotel. After getting lost in Jimbocho, I got to the Sakura hotel and checked in.
- The hotel was a little dingy in places, but it got the job done. The room was minuscule, but adequate. I couldn’t have slept on the floor if I wanted to. I was bothered by the fact that my booking said en-suite and that was nowhere to be found, but so be it. The actual commode areas were close at hand and their only fault was an inadequately removed vomit stain on the wall near the light switch. In both toilet rooms. Not sure how that happened.
- Once settled, I headed for the bright lights if Ginza. What a place. A neon marvel. I gawked at buildings and the hurried shoppers. I salivated at the electronics. I got lost looking for specific shops. I then found the Apple store and I was in heaven. After that, I went for Indian food and heaven continued.
- I wandered back in the direction of my hotel and past Bic Camera, which I noted for a later visit when it was open. Then I walked through the soaring International forum building.
- Back onto the subway and I was headed home where I began my nightly ritual of transferring photos to my hard drive and cursing the dripping air conditioner behind my head. I don’t know what it was that was dripping inside, but it was mighty irritating – I went so far as to try to disassemble the thing, but I couldn’t get to a crucial screw to do it. Earplugs in, I drifted off to sleep.
Thursday, October 14
- With an early start and some free toast under my belt, I made the early morning trip to Asakusa. The avenue leading to the shrine was not yet hopping with its vendors. I reached the shrine and started snapping away while trying not to inhale all the incense smoke and joking with a nearby information guide about not being able to breathe. Schoolchildren a plenty piled by and some were happy enough to have their photo taken in front of the shrine or pagoda.
- I also explored the nearby garden, but I couldn’t get inside the usually-closed larger gardens. Instead, I wandered the shopping avenue and went to find some food for myself. I ended up in a little place that happened to sell pancakes. That sounded like an appealing second breakfast, so I deciphered the katakana and made my order. They turned out to be only okay, but the kept me going for a while, so they served their purpose.
- With excellent timing, I caught the sea bus to the Hamarikyu teien gardens. The boat ride was fun and let me relax my already aching feet for a while.
- The gardens were lovely. They were overlooked by some rather modern skyscrapers which made for a striking contrast of old and new Japan. A hilarious goose followed me (rather, I followed it) along the paths for a while. It was quite acclimatized to humans and made for a good walking companion. I also attempted to have a conversation with a painter, but that, predictably, fell a bit flat.
- I think it was those pancakes that disagreed with my stomach, but something prompted me to tour that area of Tokyo from toilet to toilet. I actually ended up at Tokyo’s world trade center and then found my way to the subway to go to Roppongi.
- Aya recommended that I go to Roppongi Hills, so that was my destination once I got there. I wasn’t sure I was headed the right way since I couldn’t see any tall buildings, but it eventually popped out from nowhere.
- It’s a wonderful bit of architecture. It’s truly modern, but has an organic feel to it all the same. I headed up to the observation deck to go to the gallery and see the city view.
- The gallery was all about fashion, so it didn’t hold my interest that much, but at least the rooms were extremely well designed.
- The city view was spectacular and I wandered around the circuit a number of times. The only problem with the place was its no-tripod policy. After taking photos of a couple people, I got one to translate why I couldn’t use my tripod – it is a blanket policy because they are afraid people will damage the windows. With an eye roll, I went and propped my camera on my bag to take some shots. A silly no tripod rule isn’t going to keep me from getting the shots I want, damn it.
- Once I had my fill of the view, I went back downstairs and wandered around the building and its many nooks and crannies. The theatre, gardens and mall were all noteworthy.
- I headed home exhausted once again.
Friday, October 15
- Today was my trip to Kamakura, the former capital of Japan that now houses an impressive collection of shrines and temples. I took the JR line in that direction (and without much hassle even) and an hour later, I was ready to hop to it.
- I rented a meager bike from near the station. It was to be my transport for the day. If nothing else, it gave my feet a bit of a rest. Even though it only had one gear and the lock was, well, a piece of crap really, it still got me from A to B a bit faster than my weary feet would have.
- The first shrine I visited was Tsurogaoka Hachinan-gu. Over the bridge and up the path, the hillside shrine revealed itself. It made for a lovely scene in the clear blue sky. Once inside, the monks of the temple began chanting accompanied by a flute, a drum and an instrument I can’t for the life of me name. I’ve never seen it before and I only got to see it from behind so I can’t even describe it. It sounded almost synthetic though. Either way, the whole experience was great. A group of monks filed into the main temple area and did some chanting while school children crammed into the area nearby.
- I returned to my bike and attempted to tackle the hill leading to another group of shrines. I couldn’t quite make it all the way to the top without disembarking and walking up. Oh the shame. I blame the single-gear bike. The downhill ride was nice and quick though.
- Engaku-ji was the first stop. An enormous gate lead up to a good sized temple where zen monks did some incredible chanting. It was completely monotone and the monks chanted as many rhythmic syllables as they could until they ran out of breath. While they recovered, there was always someone else chanting in their place, so it became one unbroken string of the single-toned syllables. I felt so privileged to witness it. I also climbed to the top of the hill where a huge bell hangs and took in the view of the valley.
- Tokei-ji was next. The grounds of this temple were being maintained, so there wasn’t that much to see, but it was a nice, peaceful place nonetheless. There was a museum, but I didn’t enter. I don’t know if there was anything past that. It looked like there may have been more to the grounds, but I didn’t bother to check through the museum.
- Just up the road, I stopped at Jochi-ji, another small temple with peaceful grounds. This time, however, the highlight was the cemetery that hid behind the temples. Bamboo grew next to cliff faces, some of them with tunnels and shaded the tombs that stepped up the hillside. As with most of these temples, I wanted to stay longer, but I wanted to see as many as I could, so I pressed on.
- I went to Kencho-ji next and marveled at the vast, open grounds. The wide space was complemented by oversized buildings that were a spectacular sight.
- I cycled back down the hill and made my way to the giant Bronze casting of the Buddha. It’s a damn big Buddha. What more can you say really?
- The last stop in Kamakura was Hase-dera, a shrine well known for its jizo statues that are meant to protect the souls unborn children. I saw a mother place flowers with one of the statues and weep. A sad place. I actually missed the large kannon statue as time was running out on my bike rental and the gardens were closing. I good excuse to go back I guess.
- After the train ride back to Tokyo, I wandered through Ginza a little more and eventually found myself at the technological showcase that is the Sony building. They had some fun stuff there, but the Aibo dogs were the most entertaining by far. I had dinner at a spaghetti place where everything was cooked right in front of you.
- After a little more wandering and a stop in Bic Camera to play the seriously fun driving game, I stumbled home on those feet of mine that were rapidly turning to bloody stumps.
Saturday, October 16
- I meant to wake up much earlier than I did, but my body rebelled against the punishment I was giving it and slept through my alarm. The fish market’s ridiculously early schedule was too much to ask of my weary bones.
- But, even thought I woke later, the market was still buzzing when I arrived. Actually, it’s probably just as well. Any busier and it might have been too much (or I would have been run over by one of those fish-carrying carts). The sights, sounds, of the place were powerful, but I thought the smells would be more overpowering than they were. The sound of a saw cutting through a frozen fish, however, is a little grating – like a dentist’s drill. It was difficult to get any good shots because the lighting was so bad and I could not set up my tripod – I would have been far too in the way. Not to mention, being a tourist bothering folks who were busy trying to make a living was not that appealing – I tried to let people go about their business.
- There was also another section of the market more devoted to vegetables. It was a little less hectic and jarring. Near the wholesale market, I found where a lot of the sold fish was headed – to the regular market. People were flocking there and lining up for ages to get to their favourite vendor. I elbowed my way through the crowds and checked out more of the hubbub.
- I stopped briefly at the temple in Tuskiji then walked toward the Imperial Palace (with another stop at Bic Camera for more driving action). I got a bagel on the way and also stopped at the Marounochi building. The ritzy restaurants on the top floors held little interest for me, but the view was nice and there was a wedding party there having their photos taken – a good spectacle.
- Back on street level, I crossed the moat of the Imperial Palace and attempted to tend to a developing blister. I wandered outside the palace for a while and chuckled at the passing tour groups.
- I turned back and went to the East gardens where I wandered some more. I stopped to take some shots of mothers and their young kids playing in the park and later to try to capture some of the gardens.
- I went back to the hotel to pick up my coat since the weather was cooler than the previous day then got back on the train system and ventured out to Odaiba.
- The modern and clean train line dropped me off at a great lookout point for the Rainbow Bridge. I went down to the beach, set up the tripod and started snapping.
- When I felt I had the bridge shots under control, I headed back up to the eclectic malls, where I found some delightful Indian food to pack into my gut. I get hungry thinking about it – so good. Then I washed it down with some delicious gelato. Two of my favourite consumables back to back.
- I wandered a little further along the boardwalk and started to realize that, in Odaiba, you might just be able to get anywhere without touching the ground. Snazzy hotels and modern architecture surrounded me and invited me to stay, but the evening was getting on and I had to go home to rest up for one more day.
Sunday, October 17
- My first stop today was the temple in Akasuka named Hie-jinja, famed for its Tori avenue. I made the most of the vacant early morning and took my photos with little interference.
- I continued on to Harajuku where I was expecting to see freaks galore, but I only saw a few upon arrival. I wandered in the direction I thought would yield the most absurdity and eventually found myself in the middle of a market.
- The main sale item was used clothing, but all kinds of nonsense was on offer there. It seemed anyone could set up a tarp and lay out there wares. Bands played in the background including a nauseatingly genki all-girl group who played Avril Lavigne covers. There was also a band playing pop music, but I think they were guided by their three female singers – the members of the band seemed to want to play some ’80s metal instead. I strolled among the vendors and took some photos while chatting with a few folks.
- I then headed for the NHK building where I dropped the 200 Yen to take a tour. I mean, it was guided by signs featuring domo-kun, so I had to go. It was fun enough and they you can never get too much domo-kun.
- After going back through the vendors, I came to a walkway skirting the park where bands had set up, each about 75 metres apart from each other. They came out to promote their upcoming shows or simply have a good time rockin’ in the park. And they were good. There was one named Gorilla who sounded like a cross between the Chilli Peppers (without the suck) and Skunk Anansie. Then I walked further along and found a band that almost reminded me of a more electronic version of the Appleseed Cast.
- I miss seeing live music so this buffet of bands was such a welcome treat. At that moment, I didn’t want to leave Tokyo. Yeah, I didn’t really want to leave at any point, but this was the culmination. I would be at this place every Sunday. I would be here taking in all the different bands and trying to tell them I wanted to buy their CD (even if they hadn’t recorded one) and taking their photos (and telling the other photographer that his shots are great) and just generally enjoying life. It’s more of the Japan that I wanted to be experiencing. I love living in Ichinoseki and all, but Tokyo is a hundred times more exciting.
- I shouldn’t forget to mention the band called Custom Mummy whose giant costume heads and breakbeats made for good entertainment. While these bands played, a painter bounced manically to the music and slapped paint onto the page with his spastic movements.
- I then headed towards Meiji-jingu, but not without first seeing the freestyle bikers spin in the park and then, possibly the coolest thing I have ever witnessed: a group of seven or eight 40-something greasers dancing in a circle to ’50s rock. Some shirtless, most clad in black leather, they all twisted their hearts out with one occasionally strutting his moves in the centre of the circle. The WTF factor went through the roof.
- The Shrine was lovely, but it was the people and their costumes there that made the (now painful) walk worthwhile. People in all sorts of traditional dress came and went from what event I’m not sure, but they were nice enough to stop for photos. I also saw two wedding parades pass by. I was again forced to go tripodless by security, for what reason I can’t determine this time, but I still had a blast.
- I wanted one more decent Tokyo meal before I left so I managed to find a pizza place near the station where I scarfed down a nice vegetarian delight.
- Back to the station, I got to Tokyo station just in time to make the shinkansen home.
Wipeout Number Three
Today, bike wipeout number three. I’m starting to get tired of this and I’m considering taking up drinking – at least then, people would expect me to fall down all the time. A new hobby is born.
I don’t know that I ever wrote about wipeout number two, but I’ll save that for another time. Right now, I must tell a story that will be funny to me sometime in the future. So here you go future me, have a laugh.
I started the day feeling good. The typhoon had passed in the night and I was confident I would have the opportunity to get outside and take some pictures. The weather was still a bit gloomy, sure, but it wasn’t raining, that’s all that counted. After a few chores completed, I was ready to set off. I was thinking I would head in the direction of Gembi. I could stop there for some photos of the gorge or I could continue up that road towards Hondera. Alternatively, I could have turned at Gembi and headed toward Hiraizumi, perhaps catching that cave temple along the way.
Things looked promising as I began my journey. A real estate company was holding a showing of their homes in the area and a man dressed as a Japanese cartoon robot crossed paths with me. I had time enough to stop and get my camera out for a few snaps of this awkward, silver automaton whose metallic lobster claws were certainly capable of pinching their way through whole automobiles. The Jaws of Life were no match for him.
After bidding adieu to robo-lobster-man, I headed West along the main road. There’s one section that heads down into a small valley, then back up an incline the other side. No problem, I have a mountain bike. Gearing down, I ascended with relative ease.
Reaching the top of the slope, I attempted to resume my course in a higher gear. One set of gears didn’t agree that this was the proper course of action. I was able to get back into second gear, but third was out of reach. If I knew the names for any of the parts involved with switching gears on a bike, I would elaborate, but the best I can do is to say that the metal guide thingy wouldn’t move far enough for the chain to slip from second to third.
I stopped and manually switched the chain to third. My hope was that if I moved the chain to third, then switched down to second and back again, the problem might be solved. Really, I was being optimistic that a bicycle could develop muscle memory. Not so. Down to second and that was where it stayed. I twiddled around some more with any of the devices that seemed to be related to shifting gears and soon learned that I couldn’t even shift to first anymore.
I decided to ride along a while frantically wrenching the gear shift up and down in a desperate attempt to have the chain move to a new gear, any gear. Hell, a non-existent fourth gear would have been a welcome change. No luck. I pedaled along while staring down at the chain, willing it to switch.
Now, looking down at your chain while riding a bike poses an obvious difficulty when it comes to successful navigation: you can’t really do it. At least I can’t. My balance is not such that if I stare directly below myself while riding, I will continue to go in a perfectly straight line. Maybe this will come with more biking practice, but it certainly was not with me on this day.
In the top of my peripheral vision loomed a fast-approaching object. I hit the brakes while looking up to see a bush waiting with open arms to give me a prickly embrace. My brakes could only do so much to slow my appointment with leafy destiny. I was launched over the handlebars, through the bush and onto the pavement, skidding along on my side.
I rose, covered in the top few layers of dirt that once covered the sidewalk, and inspected myself. My Dad would always jokingly make the sign of the cross while chuckling, ‘Spectacles, testicles, wallet, watch,’ as though making sure all his parts were in place. While I made a similar self-examination, I discovered that much of my body was covered by the barbs formerly attached to the bush. I plucked a few from my clothes and a few more from my skin where I soon learned that I was slightly allergic to them. Small welts started appearing where I had removed the barbs from my skin.
Just then, it started to rain. I conceded defeat to the day, turned around and rode home, wet, dirty and swollen.
Lebron I Ain’t
Yesterday was another BOE day. I spent most of the morning looking up things to do in Tokyo when my sister arrives. I’m worried about her knee and how mobile she’ll be. We may have to take it pretty slow sometimes. I’m sure we’ll still have a great time though. As long as she doesn’t slip on any chum at the fish market.
I talked to Thanet after work and we determined her plans for the weekend were just too unaccommodating for Sarah and I to join her and Grainne and Erin. I would love to do something more with my extra time this weekend, but the weather is determined in its efforts to keep humans indoors.
I did a little cheering up of a sad Sarah then headed off to basketball. On this night, the Forties were playing’ well, the twenties. We just couldn’t really keep up. My long-range shot was off and my body wouldn’t do what I wanted it to do. I need to do some more running or something. But I think next game, if it plays out in a similar fashion, I’m going to just start driving the lane like Iverson. Throw my body into the fray and create some opportunities by going to the hole. My shot was such crap last night I should have just kept going at their defense. I need to be a bit more confident with my ball handling though too. If only I could actually practice somewhere.
I may have to start going to gym class at my schools.
Today was a day in Sendai with Jo, Brent and Sarah. A fairly uneventful time spent shopping in the rain. I did, however, make a couple large purchases worth noting: new speakers for my computer and a new, enormous hard drive.
When Computers Become Televisions
I had a whole day at the Board of Education. Processed some photos and wrote a pile of emails in between chatting with Sarah. She wrote me a lovely little note during the afternoon. I scooted home after work than went out to the hill behind city hall to shoot some photos. It was too dark already, but I managed to get one decent shot in there. Hung around at the base of the hill and tried getting some shots of the vending machines, but I don’t think any grand images were meant to be.
Once I was home, I started downloading some evening entertainment. Sarah came over and we watched Jon Stewart. Desmond Tutu may just be the cutest man alive. Jon Stewart let him talk for far longer than anyone I’ve seen on the show. The Archbishop was talking about God’s love with such genuine care that he just could not be interrupted. Stewart’s comment after the speech was simply, ‘I think you’re the nicest person I’ve ever met.’
A little later, Sarah and I watched the new episode of ‘Lost.’ This show rules. It’s so nice to have some good television to look forward to each week. I hope it can continue its run successfully (and I hope ABC doesn’t drag it out as their new cash cow). Sarah actually got scared enough that I had to walk her home.
A Clear Day
Finally, a clear day. I can see the mountain to the West whose name I can never remember and patches of blue are tearing through the formerly impenetrable cloud. The sounds of some loudspeaker-carrying car passing by bounce up through the window – they are not drowned out by the white noise of rain. I guess the rain had some advantages.
I find myself anxious. I have not gone outside to take photos in a couple weeks. I feel the same way as when I go through an unproductive period at home. I’m a little surlier and I feel incomplete. When I was at university, one of my courses was a philosophy course studying madness. I tended to focus my studies on depression since that subject was a bit near my heart, but I remember finding a web site linking madness and creativity. If I recall correctly, its focus was on artistic therapy for various mental diseases, but there was one case in particular that intrigued me.
It showed an image of a piece of toilet paper. On it was a portrait of a man. It was dirty and rough as any portrait drawn on toilet paper would be, but had an interesting style. It turns out that the portrait was drawn by a man with a compulsion to be creative. He couldn’t help himself. In this case, he was at a restaurant, found some toilet paper for himself and used cigarette ashes to create the portrait.
I sometimes wonder if I have a weaker version of the same condition. Here I am writing, and I feel better already. For some reason I haven’t written much of anything in the last two weeks and I’m sure that exacerbates my problem. And it’s not like I would have been short on material. Yes, I have started settling into a routine here, but there are details a plenty worthy of a note or two here on my trusty laptop (which still needs a name, by the way).
I know part of it stems from my obsession with time and mortality. I keep finding myself saying there aren’t enough hours in the day and that life is too short. When Sarah and I have to say goodbye to each other late at night lest we while away the hours before dawn without sleeping and I haven’t completed any of my chores for the day, 24 hours is far too confining. When I consider all the places in the world I would like to explore and all the places I will never see because of my limited time here, I would beg for more years so that I could experience more of this incredible planet.
So, when I fail to be productive or creative, I feel like I am not making the most of that limited time. Mind you, I haven’t exactly been wasting away here. There are certain changes I could make to tighten up my schedule, but I don’t know that I have been excessively lazy or anything of the sort. Socializing is an important pursuit and I’d rather not cut that from my life. Maybe I could ease up on the Internet surfing and try to be a bit more efficient around the house. I could try to get more of my emailing done at the Board of Education (when possible) and actually complete the tasks I set out for myself while there.
Okay, that’s good. I’ll start today. Here I am, I’ve done some writing and I could easily do more (though I do have two more days here on Thursday and Friday – perhaps I should save some of my writing for then) and I have some other tasks that deserve my attention here.
I also should re-start my old routine of a paragraph a day to describe the day’s positives. It was helpful before and for those times when the rain is keeping me and my camera inside, it will keep me focused on the good things around me and in me.
Iwate-san
I took the day off yesterday for a welcome convalescence. My weekend left me weary, but more importantly, it left me ill. On Sunday, starting at noon, germs began their assault on my body and, by the time I went to sleep, they had planted their victory flag. My immune system was defeated and I finally had to acknowledge that I was sick.
But a day of nothing but sitting in front of the computer, processing photos and surfing the Internet after sleeping late was just what my body needed. By noon, my immune system had rallied and the germs were on the run. Today, there are still some rebel groups attempting to fight the status quo, but with another good night of sleep, the uprising will be crushed. Huzzah!
What left me so fatigued on the weekend was my trek up Iwate San with about two-dozen other JETs. That and the fact that I just generally don’t seem to get enough sleep here (partly by my own doing, partly because of that raucous loading dock).
The weekend began with a trip up to Hanamaki to meet Thanet and watch the Hanamaki Matsuri. On my way out of the station, I had the good fortune to run into Racheal and Kurt who tagged along to find Thanet. We soon found ourselves surrounded by JETs while we took in the spectacle of the festival floats. The gaijin are easy to spot in a crowd, so that explains why we met up so easily – that or our desperate flocking instincts, ‘I need to speak English to someone! Now!’
Thanet and I hunted down vegetarian festival food and sampled some delicious pancake concoctions filled with either custard or bean paste (actually, I’m not entirely sure about the latter; it was brown and it didn’t look like it had meat in it – good enough for us). Unfortunately, that filled me up before I could get a crepe. The one I had in Matsushima was so good and I was tempted to stuff myself with whipped cream once again, but I was already nearing my belly’s breaking point – better not to push it lest I burst wide open. Undoubtedly, that would be some breach of Japanese etiquette.
I guided the aimless Thanet back to the bus station (I swear she could get lost in a straight hallway) while we chatted about her life back home. Things have been difficult for her and she has been preoccupied with thoughts of people outside of Japan. Well, we couldn’t have that – there was fun to be had. Actually, at that point on Friday night, there was sleep to be had – we didn’t linger in wakefulness long after arriving at her apartment.
The next morning, we prepared for our ascent up Iwate’s highest peak. Grocery store errands and culinary concoctions were the order of the morning. We made short work of our chores, but didn’t budget enough time to drive to our rendezvous point with the group. With a panicked Thanet behind the wheel and a focused Darby behind the map, we headed North and didn’t even break that many traffic laws in our hurry (yes there was one small incident where we were driving down the wrong side of the street, but that only occurred after we made a wrong turn – both members of the crew will share the blame for that lapse in concentration).
It turned out the hectic pace was unnecessary – we arrived exactly on time. We had a few moments to organize ourselves and have a bite to eat before gathering more members into the car for the journey to the mountain.
Iwate san loomed somewhat impressively over the parking lot and the not-so-hardy band of travelers tried in vain to disguise their displeasure at the thought of ascending such a height. I suppose it can look quite daunting if you have little experience with such hikes. I can hardly call myself an intrepid explorer, but I’ve hiked up enough trails to know that you will reach the top of this peak and come down with your health. But more importantly, if you have the right attitude along the way, you’ll have a blast.
What a shame so few people have learned that lesson. Yes, here it comes, my complaint. In the last year or two, I have learned something about myself: the one thing I will really complain about is people who complain too much.
When I was young and a vocal supporter of the Calgary Flames, the arch rivals to the North, the Edmonton Oilers, were led by a certain player named Wayne Gretzky. Any time he made any complaint to the referees about a given call, I joined the chorus of Flames fans melodically chanting, ‘Whiner! Whiner!’ Can you blame us? You couldn’t criticize any other part of his game. We had to razz him for something! Telling him, in whatever colourful language at the disposal of a drunken hockey fan, that he sucked would have been just plain unrealistic. Might as well make up some plausible avenue of attacking the indefatigable enemy.
Well, a few of these hikers joining me are, certainly, good people, but they could have used a chant of ‘Whiner! Whiner!’ aimed in their direction. Did you expect escalators rising to the top? Perhaps cherubs would swoop beneath you and carry you effortlessly by your arms to the top of the mountain. Were the burdens of carrying water food, sleeping bags etc. so far beyond the scope of your imagination that they actually caused you surprise?
The unfortunate answer was: ‘Yes, cherubs sound lovely, thank you.’ Here we were, spending time with new friends on a gorgeous Japanese day walking up a wonderful mountain and people somehow figured that the negatives associated with some fatigue outweighed the positive.
In fact, I don’t think I’m emphasizing the positive quite enough. The weather was just about perfect. It was cool enough to keep you from overheating while you hiked, but it took a while for the wind to actually drop your body temperature when you had stopped. Climbing the highest mountain in your prefecture in Japan is not exactly an opportunity that presents itself to many Westerners – such a gift deserves some appreciation. This was a great chance to hang out with some of the people who will be sharing these incredible experiences for the next year; shouldn’t we be enjoying their company instead of griping about minutiae? I mean seriously, you’re in Japan! What’s your problem?
Okay, there. I’ve whined about the whiners enough. On to better things.
The first half of the hike was not so difficult and offered glimpses of the lava flow that once poured from the mouth of the volcano. Dirt paths wound through forests that sheltered us from the slight breeze. The group spread out quickly with me and my camera gear beginning at the very back, but slowly progressing to the front. People kept commenting on my companion, the tripod, but when we reached the top of the mountain at dawn, I was glad to have lugged it along. As I walked, I had the chance to talk with a bunch of different groups along the way.
We stopped at a gorgeous lookout point where the trail mix Thanet and I had made became the envy of all the other hikers. Sitting atop a hardened lava flow and viewing the land below us while munching on some yummy trail mix was a nice way to spend lunch. But the wind soon kicked up and began cooling the sweat sticking to our backs. It forced us back onto the trail where we soon hiked along a more exposed portion of the mountain.
The slope was covered with loose gravel that made the climb a bit more challenging in places, but the ropes lining the sides of the trail and the spectacular view out to the surrounding peaks and the villages below made it an easy ascent for me. We then cut back into the trees and had to scramble over some steep rocks and boulders to continue on the way. By now, the sun was setting and the golden light was illuminating the peak. I would have loved to have been at the top a half hour earlier – the light would have been wonderful for photos, but alas, the setting sun dipped below the horizon before I could get to the top.
But, I soon arrived at the cabin with only Stian ahead of me. I had packed up the tripod, but now broke it out again for the few shots I could get before darkness enveloped the entire landscape.
Our cabin was cozy. Three locals had already claimed refuge there and were gracious enough to move their gear up to the loft (but not gracious enough to allow anyone to join them there – not that I blame them entirely; a gaggle of gaijin invading your hard-fought space deserves a little bit of contempt I suppose). With flashlights guiding them up the now-dark trail, the rest of the group eventually reached the night’s rest stop. We all had our dinner and Susan served smores to after roasting marshmallows over Kurt and Racheal’s stove.
Thanet and I took a walk outside to wonder at the stars. The night was mostly clear and the sky was well-dotted with distant suns. It reminded me of the three times I have seen such vast numbers of stars it was almost excruciating.
First was in junior high. I had a strange episode on a camping trip with my school. We were camped in the Rocky Mountains and looking up at the clearest night I had ever seen away from city lights. I can’t completely explain what I thought happened, but the impression I had was that I was seeing past the stars. I felt like the stars were projected on some black dome, like at the science centre in Calgary, but I was somehow seeing beyond that dome. I almost felt like there was something looking back at me. A nervous breakdown ensued. I started crying and I think I may have tearfully bellowed, ‘I saw past the stars!’ before getting carried back to the cabin by one of my teachers. Nothing like a good panic attack prompted by an incomprehensible mystical experience to gain teenage popularity’
The second time I saw anything comparable was in Switzerland. On our trip through Europe, our stop in Switzerland was in a town called Lauterbrunnen. Waterfalls tumbled from mountain walls surrounding us and echoed through the valley. Our altitude in the Alps made for clear view of the stars, but we only realized this when, in the middle of the night, nature called. The cold weather forced a dash to the toilet for me, but on the way, I looked up and was stopped in my tracks by the light from overhead. I wanted to stand there, jaw gaping, to stare at the sight, but my bladder’s pitiful strength and the cold snapped me back into motion. On the way back from completing my business, the prospect of returning to the comfort of my warm sleeping bag pushed me on. Laura was awake when I returned and had to make a similar trip. I made sure she took a look up as she walked.
The third occasion that featured such glorious night skies was when I was traveling in Peru. We had departed from Puno to cross the waters of Lake Titicaca and arrive at Amantani Island (or am I mixing it up with Taquille – damn place names, tripping me up). After a busy day of sightseeing, hiking, and soccer, we were invited to a dance with the locals. my travelling companions and I were fitted with some traditional clothes and we followed the bands’ rhythms through the dark to the dance hall.
After making efforts to keep up with foreign dance steps, we watched the dancers who had moved outside and were circling the fire. I remember saying it was a scene you could never capture with a still camera. By now, the full moon had risen and was casting a blue grey glow over the rippling water of the lake. That moon became the only light source when we walked back to the house of our host family. Again, slack-jawed, I gawked at the scene above. I can only imagine how it would have looked had the moon been new. Even with a full moon, the sky was brilliant. Infinite stars projected themselves from eternities in the past. I was happy.
And so I was on the top of Mount Iwate. I once dabbled with the idea of becoming an astronomer simply because of the wonder the stars held for me. But now, I am content to catch these glimpses. If only the mercury had not fallen so much, I would have slept beneath them.
But alas, I am not durable enough to get any sleep in that kind of cold, so I returned to the cabin and the hard wood bench that would become my bed. Surprisingly, my earplugs and a sideways sleeping position actually allowed me to get some sleep. Not much, but some.
Our wake up call was 3:00 am. We wanted to reach the summit before sunrise. Gathering up what we needed, we departed in the dark. Racheal, Kurt, Thanet, Mike and I blazed the trail. I couldn’t help messing with Kurt and Racheal’s heads by suggesting there might be a few of the aliens from Signs (we watched it the previous week and it freaked them out a little) might be active in this area. They only seemed mildly bothered at the prospect.
I reached to top by myself and bundled up in the wind. The stars were still peering through the darkness while I waited for the others to catch up. They arrived and we all headed along the spine of the mountain to the very top together.
My tripod was now earning its keep as the dawn sky slowly started turning blue while the lights from the villages below struggled to break through the clouds. The group eventually caught up and huddled together like penguins to keep warm. Bursts of light from cell phone cameras splashed in the relenting darkness as the sun’s light crept up through the clouds. Bands of red formed along the horizon and the profiles of the mountains began to take shape.
I busily snapped photos in the beautiful light until the wind started driving our troupe back down to the cabin. The sun was only directly visible through the clouds after we had started our descent. It illuminated our cabin and the rock formation behind it – they glowed like a beacon to guide us down the hill.
After gathering all our gear and cleaning the cabin (some more courteously than others), we descended to the parking lot. I flew down the path, stopping for photos wherever appropriate and only managed to fall once. Josh witnessed my tumble and subsequent skid and said the first thing I did was lift my camera to protect it from impact. Good to know I have the right instincts in that situation.
Reaching the bottom, we waited in the parking lot a while then decided to try our luck to see if the onsen was open. We were able to find comfy chairs in the lobby where we snoozed until the rest of the group slowly filed in.
The onsen experience rates second to the Turkish bath I visited in Istanbul, but was indeed pleasant after a nice hike. With brand new onsen towels in hand, the men and women separated and found their respective locker rooms. We disrobed completely then headed for the rinsing area. Sitting naked on top of specially made onsen buckets, we scrubbed away the grime. Once clean, it was time for a dip in the boiling pool. Apparently, this onsen had the heat cranked up a bit high, so perhaps it wasn’t the best experience, but it was fun enough to soak a while then make for the cold pool. A little frigid water splashed over the head while your feet soaked and you were ready for more steamy steeping. I also made a brief trip to the sauna where the heat was topping 90 degrees Celcius. A bit much for me so I withdrew to the baths.
With my clothes back on, I had to wait for the rest of the group to reach the base of the mountain. Racheal was my ride home and her knee was giving her problems on the way down. I managed to take a nap, but it was at this point that I could feel the germs fire their opening salvo. I tried to counter with some orange juice, but I suspect it was too late. My immune system had already been beaten back by the meager nights of sleep. I was defenseless. A few hours after reaching home, I was as good as useless.
Sarah, however, was kind enough to stop by after she got home from a night out. She brought me peanut butter, drinks, soup and apples (but great minds think alike, I bought apples earlier that day). We briefly visited before I collapsed into bed.
But as I said earlier, I am on the mend and one more night of good rest will vanquish this foe for good. Not to mention, I get a proper home-cooked meal tonight from Asanuma sensei as a thank you for the work Sarah and I did for the speech contest. That ought to send the germs packing.
Catch-up
Again, I am way too behind on things. I think I will have to resort to the horror that is point form catch-up.
August 31:
- My first real typhoon rattles my windows and keeps me awake most of the night. After a series of changes to my schedule, I am supposed to go to city hall, then I will get driven to school. I ploughed through the driving rain on foot and emerged soaked at city hall. Soon after arriving, I am told my first day of school is cancelled. I have nothing to do all day at city hall except read and try not to fall asleep.
- At 11:30, clear skies have rolled in and I can only ask, ‘Typhoon wa doku desu ka?’
- September 1
My first day of school at Hagishou. It’s a great building and the people there are very helpful and friendly. The kids are jubilant and inquisitive as could be. One boy, Kenta followed me around and tried to teach me some Japanese while also trying to absorb some English. - Takahashi-sensei and Koiwa-sensei are both good English speakers and did a good job of translating my many self-introductions.
- The introductions went well and all the students introduced themselves back to me. A couple girls went so far as to ask me if I liked them. I went with the politically correct answer of saying that I liked them all.
- I tutored Misuki after school with her Freddie the Leaf speech, or in her ever-so-cute case, Fweddie the Leaf.
September 2:
- Back to Hagishou. They held a morning assembly to welcome me, the highlight of which was probably the welcome yelling/clapping/drumming.
- The kids call Koiwa sensei ago-sensei. He has a strong jaw and they try to make fun of his chin. He, in turn, wrestles with them and shuts them up ever so briefly.
- Kenta learned a couple English phrases to try to say to me like, ‘This is a present for you,’ At which point he would look around for anything he could hand to me.
- I had lunch with Koiwa-sensei’s class where we talked about Canadian ways of doing things, Poland (Koiwa sensei spent three years there) and my ability to use chopsticks.
- After lunch, I had my first real class with Takahashi-sensei. We taught the students the usage of ‘How many?’ then played a game where they had to janken (rock, paper, sciscors), then ask questions to their classmates.
- I tutored after school again. Both Mizuki and Momo (her name means peach, how cool). Mizuki was doing okay, but Momo needed to memorize her speech more.
September 3:
- A day spent at the BOE bugging Sarah until she went home sick. Guess I bugged her too much.
That night was the Mizusawa party. Sarah wasn’t going to go since she was ill, but I twisted her rubber arm and she joined Jo, Brent, Alice and I for the ride North. - The dinner was great and there was a ton of vegetarian food for me to sample. And they had pineapple juice. Lots of it. I dreamed of South America.
- Met a few of the second years, most notably Alicia and Jerry who live in Mizusawa.
Had a good time joking around with everyone and continuing to build up a little social circle here. - Went back to Ichinoseki and hung out at Sarah’s until 3:00 am.
September 4:
- Thanet woke me up at 9:00 am, as she was supposed to. I was supposed to go visit her and watch her in the festival in Shiwa, but she said it would be fairly dull for anyone not participating in it, so I stayed in Ichinoseki.
- I tried to sleep more to no avail.
- I got up and visited Sarah to take her some flowers and a bit of food for her weak stomach.
- I then headed of to Gembikei Gorge on my bike for some photos and exploration.
As I was hitching up my bike and pulling out my camera, a man with a horse and carriage came over to me and we eventually communicated with each other that he was offering me a free ride. I climbed aboard and he cranked up his stereo so that it was blaring themes from Western movies while the horses carted us past the gorge. Allergies aside, I was a lovely, hilarious ride. - I explored one small portion of the gorge and took a few photos, then I wandered in the direction of the flying dango. A woman who spoke good English befriended me and gave me some of her dango to sample. Not bad, but not necessarily worth the trip to the gorge for only some fancily-delivered rice paste.
- I cycled back and met up with Sarah and Rachael. Again, we had to persuade Sarah, but we all ended up going to Kurt’s band’s show at the bunka centre. Their dramatic singer belted out some rock ditties while Kurt donned his rock star sunglasses to pound out the beats.
- The next act was a group of 17-year-old high school students called The Joes playing three-chord punk rock. The singer was so full of energy. Just wicked. They sang Blitzkrieg Bop and made my night.
- After the show, Rachael and Sarah made some yummy stir fry at Sarah’s. Kurt joined us and we watched my goofy movies from the Internet then watched Signs – Sarah squealed.
September 5:
- I woke early to get to the train station where Gemma and her friend Homiko (damn if I could ever remember a Japanese name – I’m sure that’s wrong) picked Josh and I up to drive to Sendai.
- First stop was the glorious Yodobashi electronics store. Good thing they don’t have one in Ichinoseki or I’d be broke.
- Our whole day consisted of shopping, shopping, shopping. We checked out a number of book stores and some clothing stores. And anything else cool we could find. We embarked on a quest for the elusive domo-kun and at last we found him. My life is now complete.
- I should mention the drag queen we saw in the underpass. Incredibly tall wearing a pink boa and a bikini, face painted white and eyes painted black. I was too intimidated to ask for a photo.
- The domo-kun was found in a mall outside of Sendai’s downtown core. There we also hunted for Engrish shirts for Josh, but without much success.
September 6:
Monday and back to work. My first day of elementary school. I went to Yamanome Elementary school which isn’t all that far from city hall. One teacher there spoke very good English and served as a translator for the whole day, especially during my introductions to the kids. Predictably, the kids were cute as could be and they all loved the photos I brought from Calgary. I was interviewed by a few kids for the school paper. So cute. I ate lunch with them and while we didn’t talk much, due to the language barrier, I think they still liked having me there.
September 7:
- Spent the morning at the BOE then took the bus out to Hondera Elementary school and all of its 38 students.
- Karihara sensei guided me there with some photos he had taken earlier and I was able to make it to the bus stop without a problem.
- I sat with some of the staff for a while and we tried to communicate, then I was ushered to the gym where we held our class.
- I did a self-intro, then they introduced themselves very briefly. They were cute as could be. We played a game where they all got some miniature Canadian flags at the end of it (which were later attached to chopsticks and waved feverishly in my direction).
- They then sang their school song that was just beautiful and nearly brought a tear to my eye.
- Again I sat with some of the staff and then I was taken home by someone whose English was as bad as my Japanese. We attempted to converse while I had my nose buried in my phrasebook.
September 8:
- Had fun with Sarah all day. She is great.
- Well, yes, Sarah did write that, but she’s right too.
- Anyway, yesterday was the speech contest so Sarah and I took the bus to the school and met up with Kurt, Josh and another ALT from Hiraizumi, Sean.
- Tried not to fall asleep through all of the speeches, though some of them were quite entertaining, it was just that there were so many.
- Sarah was quite pleased because all the students from Maikawa did rather well. A first for Kyoko, a first for Daichi and a second place finish in the original speech contest for Yusuke.
- Josh walked home with us and we watched some BBC and Simpsons then we headed over to an enkai organized by the teachers’ association at La Marengo (a Japanese version of a French restaurant). Good times, good food.
Yay! I caught up. Mind you, reading all that would be pretty dull, but at least I’m no longer committed to transcribing some past events that I feel compelled to record for some reason. I’m free to write anything I like’
Miyako, Morioka, Tono, Bono
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.
Beauty Will Save the World
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”
Office Giggles
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
Noh! Matsushima Matsuri! Fun!
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.
Darby Sawchuk is a Canadian-born photographer who currently resides in Manchester, England. He has travelled to over 40 countries and is always adding more to the list. He creates stock for multiple agencies and is available for assignments.
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