I wasn't planning on posting anything today. However, I was playing around with a little tool (created by J Wynia) which suggests photos from Flickr relevant to the subject of your blog post, and I just had to show you this pic. I searched for "Japan" and the following image was one of the results.
I'm not sure if this is real or not, but Ito lives in Kyoto so it might be a bunch of statues from there.
Saturday, December 17, 2005
Sunday, December 11, 2005
English
A few months ago, I realized that my English input was stagnating. I started searching out anything to read in my native tongue. When I received an MP3 player as a gift a few weeks ago, I started listening to podcasts and other speeches. I stumbled across the following website of interviews with famous authors very recently: http://wiredforbooks.org/swaim.
Japanese Computers
Japanese homes are typically quite beautiful, with wood trim and sliding doors everywhere. Japanese computer cases are the same.
Kidding. This is actually a "mod" (geek abbreviation for modification) of a PC case. More info here.
Kidding. This is actually a "mod" (geek abbreviation for modification) of a PC case. More info here.
Saturday, December 10, 2005
Insulation come hither
As some people know, most homes have little (if any) insulation to keep them warm (or better, "not freezing") in the winter. Thus, homes are freezing in the winter. So, why don't all Japanese people die each winter? Because, they've come up with ingenious heating devices to keep them warm. Some of these devices are portable (as there is no central heating) and some are wall-mounted.
I spoke of this in a previous post (Winter's here! Winter's here!) but failed to mention the kotatsu. This is a low, square or rectangular table which has a radiating downward-pointing fan on its underside, and which people stretch their legs under, and read or play cars or drink tea. A kotatsu blanket is draped over the table and hangs to the floor so very little heat can escape. We have one of these and I'm anxious to set it up.
(this is a cat (not ours) enjoying the warmth of a kotatsu)
These words were inspired by a video on how insulation is made, which you can watch here.
I spoke of this in a previous post (Winter's here! Winter's here!) but failed to mention the kotatsu. This is a low, square or rectangular table which has a radiating downward-pointing fan on its underside, and which people stretch their legs under, and read or play cars or drink tea. A kotatsu blanket is draped over the table and hangs to the floor so very little heat can escape. We have one of these and I'm anxious to set it up.
(this is a cat (not ours) enjoying the warmth of a kotatsu)
These words were inspired by a video on how insulation is made, which you can watch here.
Memoirs of a Geisha
I just watched a short preview of this movie at Yahoo's video search site. Already, I'm quite disappointed with the portrayal of Japanese people. Of course, the actors are speaking in English - that's understandable. But where is the formality, the politeness, the body language. I watched a stranger speaking to a young girl. There was not a hint of bowing, no polite Excuse mes or Thank yous. It was like I was watching a young Canadian girl (wearing a kimono) speaking to a Canadian man.
This short scene was out of context, so perhaps these two characters were raised in the West and then brought to Japan. Perhaps this is why they lack any trace of Japanese-ness? Unlikely. Or, maybe Hollywood, in typical fashion, decided to sanitize, and westernize, and remold, and cut a story about a wonderfully different culture to the lowest common denominator, so that it wouldn't be obscured (but more appropriately, embellished) by "strange" cultural references.
I suppose I should hold further judgement until I see the whole film.
Monday, December 05, 2005
Winter's here! Winter's here!
I forgot how cold it was in Japan in winter. Not outside, inside. Most homes have no central heating, and very little insulation. So each room is a different wintery environment. There's the winter bathroom and winter shower. There's the winter bedroom. And the winter kitchen. Each room needs its own heating setup. In my home, it's portable heat fans or kerosene heaters, but many homes have wall-mounted all-season air conditioners (cool in summer, warm in winter) in well-frequented rooms.
The winter shower is the coldest room. Standing naked on cold tiles in a freezing shower room is not fun. If you turn on the water to heat the shower room a few minutes before you enter, you're greeted with fog and can't find the soap, or walls for that matter. In the winter bathroom, you may be lucky enough to find an electrically warmed toilet seat. Mmm...
The winter bedroom is kinda fun if you're a couple. Snuggling and so forth.
Anyhow, I can't wait to go back to the central-heating of Canada and the warmth of my parents' home. Two weeks!
The winter shower is the coldest room. Standing naked on cold tiles in a freezing shower room is not fun. If you turn on the water to heat the shower room a few minutes before you enter, you're greeted with fog and can't find the soap, or walls for that matter. In the winter bathroom, you may be lucky enough to find an electrically warmed toilet seat. Mmm...
The winter bedroom is kinda fun if you're a couple. Snuggling and so forth.
Anyhow, I can't wait to go back to the central-heating of Canada and the warmth of my parents' home. Two weeks!
Saturday, December 03, 2005
Expensive Candy
Japan is full of places where people can throw away their money very, very quickly. I hate these places, but many Japanese people love them.
I think there are basically two types of these places: gambling and games. The gambling places are called Pachinko halls or parlours. I've only been to a few of these, as your money disappears at nearly the speed of light. When I first arrived here, I was intrigued by the game centres, where there are many ways to lose your money at a slower rate.
For example, you can play a game where you control a mechanical scoop, which picks up (usually zero) small objects, puts them on a moving tray, which slowly pushes more small objects towards the edge of the tray and down a chute into your possession. More often than not, the scoop doesn't pick anything up, or if it does, the items fall of the moving tray back into the original pile of objects, or if they do stay on the tray, it takes you an hour to push a few small objects into the chute.
To make a long story short, you end up spending $20 on a couple of mini Kit Kats.
I think there are basically two types of these places: gambling and games. The gambling places are called Pachinko halls or parlours. I've only been to a few of these, as your money disappears at nearly the speed of light. When I first arrived here, I was intrigued by the game centres, where there are many ways to lose your money at a slower rate.
For example, you can play a game where you control a mechanical scoop, which picks up (usually zero) small objects, puts them on a moving tray, which slowly pushes more small objects towards the edge of the tray and down a chute into your possession. More often than not, the scoop doesn't pick anything up, or if it does, the items fall of the moving tray back into the original pile of objects, or if they do stay on the tray, it takes you an hour to push a few small objects into the chute.
To make a long story short, you end up spending $20 on a couple of mini Kit Kats.
Demolition
I haven't witnessed the full process of a demolition before. During the past few weeks, that's changed. Across the street from my apartment, there is (was) a building called Exciting Town, kind of like a very small Walmart. Now, it's a pile of rubble. More specifically, it's many piles of neatly organized rubble. All the scrap is being organized into individual piles of thick steel, thin metal, concrete, plastic, etc. and then being taken away in large trucks. Japan is very focused on recycling, and I wonder if this demolition method is also true of Canada and the U.S.
In any case, "Goodbye, Exciting Town!" You weren't that exciting, other than on days whose last digit was a 1, when you would offer a 10% discount on all of your wares. I hope your replacement raises the bar a little bit, and provides a much better view from my bedroom window.
Friday, November 04, 2005
Bicyclists and Pedestrians
Japanese people are typically quite trusting of vehicles and their drivers. The roads are narrow enough as it stands, but Japanese pedestrians and bikers often take a very prominent position on the side of the road. Sidewalks are quite uncommon here, but it is very common to see 2 or 3 students biking SIDE-BY-SIDE on a very narrow street. Car drivers don't beep their horns though; they simply slow down and wait for the bikers to realign themselves. As a western driver, I am always amazed at the audacity of these bikers to take away any amount of my road when I'm driving! But this is the main difference between the West and Japan (when it comes to roads): most people don't think that cars own the roads here. This can be very dangerous.
There are many even tinier sidestreets that intersect the already narrow streets that I drive on here. And from these tiny sidestreets pop out many young a biker. And they just "pop" right into the street. They don't seem to stop at stop signs, nor do they seem to value their precious human lives. Because young bikers are constantly flinging themselves in front of my car!
I have told a number of my young students to be more careful when driving their bicycles, but I'm not sure my warnings will do anything. Plus as more foreigners come to Japan to teach, who feel that they "own the road" (like I do), things will get more and more dangerous for the Japanese junior high school student.
I'd like to establish a "Save the Students" fund to prevent the extinction of young bikers in Japan. The money collected can go towards educating Japanese students and foreigners alike on this important issue.
There are many even tinier sidestreets that intersect the already narrow streets that I drive on here. And from these tiny sidestreets pop out many young a biker. And they just "pop" right into the street. They don't seem to stop at stop signs, nor do they seem to value their precious human lives. Because young bikers are constantly flinging themselves in front of my car!
I have told a number of my young students to be more careful when driving their bicycles, but I'm not sure my warnings will do anything. Plus as more foreigners come to Japan to teach, who feel that they "own the road" (like I do), things will get more and more dangerous for the Japanese junior high school student.
I'd like to establish a "Save the Students" fund to prevent the extinction of young bikers in Japan. The money collected can go towards educating Japanese students and foreigners alike on this important issue.
Sunday, October 23, 2005
Sorry Mr. Ed!
I had my first taste of horse last night. Horse sashimi. Sashimi is typically raw fish, which is delicious. But last night, chatting over drinks and other delicious food, I, my girlfriend, her brother and his fiancee, all partook of small slices of raw horse.
I had sworn that I would never eat horse. People ride horses, and whisper to them. How could I eat one!? But having already had a few drinks, my ethical inner voice was rambling incoherently, so I ate.
This morning, thinking clearly, I can try to rationalize my actions. In India, cows are revered, but in much of the rest of the world, cows are slaughtered and eaten constantly. In the West, dogs are man's best friend, but in China, some are raised for consumption. So, who cares? It's all relative. Different cultures have different histories and tastes. I don't think anyone can correctly argue that we shouldn't eat this or that meat.
Unless of course, you're talking about a McDonald's hamburger. I said "meat", not "meat filler substitute".
I had sworn that I would never eat horse. People ride horses, and whisper to them. How could I eat one!? But having already had a few drinks, my ethical inner voice was rambling incoherently, so I ate.
This morning, thinking clearly, I can try to rationalize my actions. In India, cows are revered, but in much of the rest of the world, cows are slaughtered and eaten constantly. In the West, dogs are man's best friend, but in China, some are raised for consumption. So, who cares? It's all relative. Different cultures have different histories and tastes. I don't think anyone can correctly argue that we shouldn't eat this or that meat.
Unless of course, you're talking about a McDonald's hamburger. I said "meat", not "meat filler substitute".
Friday, October 14, 2005
Japan Bugs
Perhaps the Western immune system is not ready for Japanese cold bugs. I've had 3 bad colds in the last year. Prior to coming to Japan, I hadn't had a cold in at least a year.
Last night I had a thought. Do people who check weather forecasts get fewer colds? Do their immune systems prepare themselves for an oncoming shift in the weather due to some psychological trigger? I wonder if any research has been done on this.
In any case, Japanese people generally seem to be less concerned about germs than I am. I've seen a number of people coughing or sneezing around food or towards people, without much of a negative reaction.
I suppose it's more likely that this is why I have a cold.
Last night I had a thought. Do people who check weather forecasts get fewer colds? Do their immune systems prepare themselves for an oncoming shift in the weather due to some psychological trigger? I wonder if any research has been done on this.
In any case, Japanese people generally seem to be less concerned about germs than I am. I've seen a number of people coughing or sneezing around food or towards people, without much of a negative reaction.
I suppose it's more likely that this is why I have a cold.
Friday, October 07, 2005
Lawson
My city is covered with convenience stores. No - "covered" is too mild a word; it's littered with convenience stores. And almost all of them are called Lawson. This is incredibly convenient, to have a Lawson at almost every corner. There's one place where I pass three Lawsons, each within a 10 to 15 second drive from each other. There are other convenience stores in Japan (7-11, Poplar (not Popular), and various independents) but in my area Lawson is by far the most evident.
I have become inured to some formerly surprising sounds that occur upon entering a Lawson. "Bing-Bong!" every time someone goes in or out. Many people go in and out, and the bing-bong is quite loud. I would surely go mad if I had to work there. Not a moment after the bing-bong erupts, all of the 3 or 4 workers in the place look up from what they're doing, and say (not necessarily in unison) いらっしゃいませ！ which means "Welcome!" But, usually they say a bit more than that. Usually, they say: "Welcome! Good morning/afternoon/evening! Welcome" or
いらっしゃいませ、こんばんは、いらっしゃいませ！ which is an earful, when a number of people say it in staggered fashion.
Lawsons are quite amazing in the diversity of their products: a million different types of pop, tea, milk drinks, etc.; a billion different types of snacks: chips (I tried what I think was a marmalade flavour last week!), chocolate, candy; and truly edible meals for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. I would never buy something hot or cooked from a Western convenience store, but here, I have bought many a delicious bento lunch at Lawson (pronounced Ro-sun of course, ローサン). New products seem to get released every week: there's always a new fizzy drink, potato chip flavour, or chocolate dessert.
As you leave, all the staff thanks you for your purchase and invites you to come back and shop at their store again.
Oh, and of course "Bing-Bong!"
I have become inured to some formerly surprising sounds that occur upon entering a Lawson. "Bing-Bong!" every time someone goes in or out. Many people go in and out, and the bing-bong is quite loud. I would surely go mad if I had to work there. Not a moment after the bing-bong erupts, all of the 3 or 4 workers in the place look up from what they're doing, and say (not necessarily in unison) いらっしゃいませ！ which means "Welcome!" But, usually they say a bit more than that. Usually, they say: "Welcome! Good morning/afternoon/evening! Welcome" or
Lawsons are quite amazing in the diversity of their products: a million different types of pop, tea, milk drinks, etc.; a billion different types of snacks: chips (I tried what I think was a marmalade flavour last week!), chocolate, candy; and truly edible meals for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. I would never buy something hot or cooked from a Western convenience store, but here, I have bought many a delicious bento lunch at Lawson (pronounced Ro-sun of course, ローサン). New products seem to get released every week: there's always a new fizzy drink, potato chip flavour, or chocolate dessert.
As you leave, all the staff thanks you for your purchase and invites you to come back and shop at their store again.
Oh, and of course "Bing-Bong!"
Saturday, October 01, 2005
A Yellow-Brick Road
A blind person can get around well in Japan. In the city where I live, almost every single street that has a city sidewalk has got, running down the centre of that sidewalk, a slightly bumpy yellow path. A mild annoyance for pedestrians and bicyclers, this road feature must be wonderful for those whose vision is diminished. I have yet to see a blind person in this city, but I am amazed that the city (actually, I'm not sure which level of government sets this up) pays for something like this. I don't think this would go over well in the West, where the slightest word of a tax increase provokes an angry mob. At first, I didn't know what this yellow path was, never having seen one before. Does this exist in the West, and how common is it?
Thursday, August 11, 2005
Cute Cars
Cars are pretty cute in Japan. Oh sure, you come across the occasional behemoth vehicle, which doesn't really fit on a Japanese road, and really shouldn't be sold in this country. You can drive them between cities on major routes, but once arrived at your destination, you must park it (across 2 or 3 normal parking spaces) somewhere outside the city and move into more convenient transportation.
Anyhow, back to the small cars. They're cute. Half the length and width of your average western vehicle, although the same height or higher. I am more comfortable in Japanese cars than most American cars I've sat in.
Some Japanese drivers like to put cute things on and around their dash. Shiny things, tiny stuffed animals, etc. For the most part, this is fine, and makes for interesting driving: "Oh look, there are 6 tiny Hello Kitty dolls on the dashboard of that car!"
However, sometimes these drivers get carried away, and it looks like a dump-truck full of cute things emptied itself onto their dash and front window. Shiny hanging things and stickers and all sorts of miscellany frame the (usually female) drivers' heads. It is often difficult for me to see their faces. Can this be legal?
Possibly the policemen (おまわりさん) find them cute too.
Anyhow, back to the small cars. They're cute. Half the length and width of your average western vehicle, although the same height or higher. I am more comfortable in Japanese cars than most American cars I've sat in.
Some Japanese drivers like to put cute things on and around their dash. Shiny things, tiny stuffed animals, etc. For the most part, this is fine, and makes for interesting driving: "Oh look, there are 6 tiny Hello Kitty dolls on the dashboard of that car!"
However, sometimes these drivers get carried away, and it looks like a dump-truck full of cute things emptied itself onto their dash and front window. Shiny hanging things and stickers and all sorts of miscellany frame the (usually female) drivers' heads. It is often difficult for me to see their faces. Can this be legal?
Possibly the policemen (おまわりさん) find them cute too.
B-Dash
B-Dash refers to a move in the Mario Bros. series of Nintendo video games, where you press the 'B' button to make one of the brothers run (or dash) across the screen. I hadn't heard this term before coming to Japan, but I'm not an ardent game-player, so it may be familiar to some folks in the west too.
This move has been immortalized by a Japanese music group called Tongari Kids (トンガリ キッズ) in their appropriately-titled song B-Dash. The song is light, rappy electronica, and contains a constantly repeating portion of the Mario Bros. theme song, which may either please you or severely annoy you.
If you can find the CD (it's a single with two songs; well, actually four, but two are karaoke versions of the other two), at least give it a listen in the store if you're able too. Or if you can find a preview on the web, make sure you're able to listen to more than the introduction, as it doesn't properly foreshadow the rest of the song.
This move has been immortalized by a Japanese music group called Tongari Kids (トンガリ キッズ) in their appropriately-titled song B-Dash. The song is light, rappy electronica, and contains a constantly repeating portion of the Mario Bros. theme song, which may either please you or severely annoy you.
If you can find the CD (it's a single with two songs; well, actually four, but two are karaoke versions of the other two), at least give it a listen in the store if you're able too. Or if you can find a preview on the web, make sure you're able to listen to more than the introduction, as it doesn't properly foreshadow the rest of the song.
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
Japan has the best * in the world.
Just for the hell of it, I ran this search through Google: Japan has the best * in the world. This a powerful type of search, where the asterisk is used as a "wild-card". My search is not very powerful or important, but the results are kind of interesting.
First 20 results:
Japan has the best cost performance ADSL in the world.
Japan has the best arcades in the world.
Japan has the best public transport system in the world.
Japan has the best engineers in the world.
Japan has the best cellphones in the world.
Japan has the best candy in the world.
Japan has the best rail network in the world.
Japan has the best welfare system in the world.
Japan has the best trains in the world.
Japan has the best mobile phones in the world.
Japan has the best bilateral agreement in the world.
Japan has the best gardens in the world.
Japan has the best ecosystem in the world.
Japan has the best customer service in the world.
Japan has the best rail service in the world.
Japan has the best restaurants in the world.
Japan has the best economy in the world.
Japan has the best life-expectancy in the world.
Japan has the best baked goods in the world.
First 20 results:
Japan has the best cost performance ADSL in the world.
Japan has the best arcades in the world.
Japan has the best public transport system in the world.
Japan has the best engineers in the world.
Japan has the best cellphones in the world.
Japan has the best candy in the world.
Japan has the best rail network in the world.
Japan has the best welfare system in the world.
Japan has the best trains in the world.
Japan has the best mobile phones in the world.
Japan has the best bilateral agreement in the world.
Japan has the best gardens in the world.
Japan has the best ecosystem in the world.
Japan has the best customer service in the world.
Japan has the best rail service in the world.
Japan has the best restaurants in the world.
Japan has the best economy in the world.
Japan has the best life-expectancy in the world.
Japan has the best baked goods in the world.
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
Driving behind Death
In the city where I live in Japan, and most likely elsewhere in the country, drivers are required to prominently place special labels on their vehicles if they're either very young or very old.
In line with the culture's emphasis on nature, these stickers depict a green summer leaf, and an orange-brown fall leaf, respectively.
The perils of driving are perhaps symbolized by the ease with which a leaf is plucked from a tree, as any driver's life can be torn out of existence in an unhappy instant.
Seeing the fall leaf always leaves me smiling however. This driver could die at any time. He's a brown wrinkled leaf; his stem could detach from the branch momentarily; he could drift down slowly to the dark earth, never to drive again. But unlike the gently falling leaf, once "detached", this driver could send his vehicle careening into pedestrians or through shop windows.
I smile when I see the brown leaf, but I also pull back... a lot.
In line with the culture's emphasis on nature, these stickers depict a green summer leaf, and an orange-brown fall leaf, respectively.
The perils of driving are perhaps symbolized by the ease with which a leaf is plucked from a tree, as any driver's life can be torn out of existence in an unhappy instant.
Seeing the fall leaf always leaves me smiling however. This driver could die at any time. He's a brown wrinkled leaf; his stem could detach from the branch momentarily; he could drift down slowly to the dark earth, never to drive again. But unlike the gently falling leaf, once "detached", this driver could send his vehicle careening into pedestrians or through shop windows.
I smile when I see the brown leaf, but I also pull back... a lot.
Monday, August 01, 2005
Fireworks can be dangerous
Some people almost got killed at the Fireworks festival last night. (fireworks = hanabi = flower fire = 花火)
It was a great show. We eventually found a tiny rectangle of sandy cement near the shore amongst hundreds and hundreds of happy onlookers. Either there was some "park-cat" poo in the bushes right beside us, or one of the happy onlookers was having gastro-intestinal issues, as every few seconds my girlfriend and I exchanged wrinkled-nose glances. I started breathing out through my nose and in through my mouth in order to enjoy the show.
It all started with a count-down: kyu, hachi, nana, roku, go, yon, san, ni, ichi, BOOM!! (9 - 8 - ... - 2 - 1 or 九、八、七、六、五、四、三、二、一 for those of you who can enable Japanese fonts). The fireworks were truly incredible. One hour straight using 7000 casings, with 2000 saved for the 10-minute grand finale. The show was a combination of aerial- and water-based explosions. This was the first time I had seen the latter type. As the main fireworks were shooting up from a barge in the middle of the bay, a small boat could be seen traversing the width of the bay from right to left and back again, dropping water-based fireworks every 10 to 20 metres. These would produce a hefty explosion like a bomb blowing out of the water. These were much closer than the aerial explosions - the flash and the sound were extremely close together and you could feel a blast of air push against your clothes. The feeling in the crowd was a mixture of excitement and fear - it felt like an aerial attack of some kind. And then something went wrong.
The water-based explosions started to get closer and closer to land. At one point, I held up my fan (uchiwa) to prevent some burning ash to fall on us from above. Then, about 50 metres to our left, an explosion occurred extremely close to the shore - maybe a few metres out. Half the explosion went directly into the spectators. I can't imagine how loud the blast was, nor how frightened the people must have been. A few minutes later, two injured people in stretchers were carried out by police.
Soon after, we decided to move further to the right. We didn't fully enjoy the next part of the show, knowing that some people had been hurt. Then the finale, accompanied by some odd choices of music (although I liked the Dance with Sabres by Khatchaturian), seemed to erase our worries and we smiled and laughed in amazement until the last ember died in the sky.
It was a great show. We eventually found a tiny rectangle of sandy cement near the shore amongst hundreds and hundreds of happy onlookers. Either there was some "park-cat" poo in the bushes right beside us, or one of the happy onlookers was having gastro-intestinal issues, as every few seconds my girlfriend and I exchanged wrinkled-nose glances. I started breathing out through my nose and in through my mouth in order to enjoy the show.
It all started with a count-down: kyu, hachi, nana, roku, go, yon, san, ni, ichi, BOOM!! (9 - 8 - ... - 2 - 1 or 九、八、七、六、五、四、三、二、一 for those of you who can enable Japanese fonts). The fireworks were truly incredible. One hour straight using 7000 casings, with 2000 saved for the 10-minute grand finale. The show was a combination of aerial- and water-based explosions. This was the first time I had seen the latter type. As the main fireworks were shooting up from a barge in the middle of the bay, a small boat could be seen traversing the width of the bay from right to left and back again, dropping water-based fireworks every 10 to 20 metres. These would produce a hefty explosion like a bomb blowing out of the water. These were much closer than the aerial explosions - the flash and the sound were extremely close together and you could feel a blast of air push against your clothes. The feeling in the crowd was a mixture of excitement and fear - it felt like an aerial attack of some kind. And then something went wrong.
The water-based explosions started to get closer and closer to land. At one point, I held up my fan (uchiwa) to prevent some burning ash to fall on us from above. Then, about 50 metres to our left, an explosion occurred extremely close to the shore - maybe a few metres out. Half the explosion went directly into the spectators. I can't imagine how loud the blast was, nor how frightened the people must have been. A few minutes later, two injured people in stretchers were carried out by police.
Soon after, we decided to move further to the right. We didn't fully enjoy the next part of the show, knowing that some people had been hurt. Then the finale, accompanied by some odd choices of music (although I liked the Dance with Sabres by Khatchaturian), seemed to erase our worries and we smiled and laughed in amazement until the last ember died in the sky.
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
It's hot here
Japan is quite hot in the summer for your average Canadian. And, especially for this Canadian. I have to break my employer's dress code every day here, as long pants would surely cause me great distress. So, I am constantly in a pair of shorts and a light shirt, and a pair of Japanese thongs (called zouri or ぞうり if your computer displays Japanese fonts).
I am utterly amazed when I see the average Japanese man, wearing a full-length black suit, or woman, wearing a long-sleeved shirt with bonnet. (Well, perhaps these aren't your average Japanese people, but I do often see very old women, rice farmers I think, wearing these bonnets around their heads.) Are they being punished? Who is forcing them to wear such heavy, un-summerish attire?
I have contemplated buying a portable fridge simply for the storage of my underwear, as well as buying ice packs to sit on as I drive to and from my classes.
Random details on the hot weather:
-convenience stores sell frozen ice tea and other drinks to keep cool on those hot days at the beach
-most women walk and ride bikes here holding umbrellas or parasols to protect themselves from the sun
-both young women and young men can be seen fanning themselves with Japanese fans (uchiwa or うちわ)
-cars idling for a very long time are often seen in parking lots containing sleeping men waiting for their wives to finish their shopping
-outdoor vending machines (which truly blanket the streets here) are available at every 5 footsteps to quench your thirst
I am utterly amazed when I see the average Japanese man, wearing a full-length black suit, or woman, wearing a long-sleeved shirt with bonnet. (Well, perhaps these aren't your average Japanese people, but I do often see very old women, rice farmers I think, wearing these bonnets around their heads.) Are they being punished? Who is forcing them to wear such heavy, un-summerish attire?
I have contemplated buying a portable fridge simply for the storage of my underwear, as well as buying ice packs to sit on as I drive to and from my classes.
Random details on the hot weather:
-convenience stores sell frozen ice tea and other drinks to keep cool on those hot days at the beach
-most women walk and ride bikes here holding umbrellas or parasols to protect themselves from the sun
-both young women and young men can be seen fanning themselves with Japanese fans (uchiwa or うちわ)
-cars idling for a very long time are often seen in parking lots containing sleeping men waiting for their wives to finish their shopping
-outdoor vending machines (which truly blanket the streets here) are available at every 5 footsteps to quench your thirst
Thursday, July 21, 2005
Cat
We have a cat which we found on a Saturday night at a park during the height of this year's cherry blossom season. It was meowing loudly from up in a sakura tree so we approached it. I thought it was simply upset from being caught up in the tree, but after climbing up, retrieving the cat, and placing it back on the ground, we noticed that much of its two rear paws were covered in a thick, dry, black, oily substance. We felt quite sorry for it, and as it followed us as we walked the path to the park's exit, we discussed whether we should adopt it, as it didn't seem to be a "park" cat, which are usually ugly, dirty, and bent-tailed.
We decided to come back the next day to see how it was doing. It was raining that Sunday and sure enough, the little wet cat crawled meowing out of the bushes where we had left it the night before. Again, we contemplated taking it home.
The odd thing about the whole situation was that my girlfriend hated cats. There are many alley cats in this Japanese city (in most, I think) and whenever we'd see one while driving, my girlfriend would hit the accelerator pedal and attempt to run it over. Now, I'm sure this was all done in jest, but I know that she was definitely not enamoured by these furry animals.
So, I was under the impression that the first "discussion" and the later "contemplation" would be over very quickly when I reminded her of her feelings for felines. However, a transformation must have occurred within her, because she began pleading with me to bring the cat home with us.
So we did. Now we had a noisy, hungry, oily cat in our house. What were we to do? Well, obviously, we started rubbing petroleum jelly into the cat's rear paws to get the dry oil out. Who wouldn't? But this didn't work as spectacularly as we'd hoped. In the next few days and weeks, we cut the affected fur off the cat when given the opportunity. Finally, he started to again resemble a normal cat.
We have started taking the cat on little excursions back to the park, in the hope that (well, for me anyway) he'll decide to make his life there, instead of in the confines of the two rooms he has taken over on the main floor of our house. Thus far, he has always followed us back to the car, to make the journey back home with us.
We decided to come back the next day to see how it was doing. It was raining that Sunday and sure enough, the little wet cat crawled meowing out of the bushes where we had left it the night before. Again, we contemplated taking it home.
The odd thing about the whole situation was that my girlfriend hated cats. There are many alley cats in this Japanese city (in most, I think) and whenever we'd see one while driving, my girlfriend would hit the accelerator pedal and attempt to run it over. Now, I'm sure this was all done in jest, but I know that she was definitely not enamoured by these furry animals.
So, I was under the impression that the first "discussion" and the later "contemplation" would be over very quickly when I reminded her of her feelings for felines. However, a transformation must have occurred within her, because she began pleading with me to bring the cat home with us.
So we did. Now we had a noisy, hungry, oily cat in our house. What were we to do? Well, obviously, we started rubbing petroleum jelly into the cat's rear paws to get the dry oil out. Who wouldn't? But this didn't work as spectacularly as we'd hoped. In the next few days and weeks, we cut the affected fur off the cat when given the opportunity. Finally, he started to again resemble a normal cat.
We have started taking the cat on little excursions back to the park, in the hope that (well, for me anyway) he'll decide to make his life there, instead of in the confines of the two rooms he has taken over on the main floor of our house. Thus far, he has always followed us back to the car, to make the journey back home with us.
Sunday, July 17, 2005
Saturday today (well, actually, the wee hours of Sunday.) My first class alternates between 2 adult ladies and a young girl. A Japanese teacher sometimes comes into town to teach the 2 ladies, and when he does, I teach the young girl. I find myself praying that he doesn't make it. The young girl has the face of someone who would rather be stone dead than in my class. I really can't deal with it. This has got to be my worst class. One young bored-to-death girl who barely says a word. She beats me. A crying mass of 4 year-olds I can handle. But not her.
My second class is bi-weekly. Or is it bi-monthly. I can never remember what the "bi-" signifies. I could look it up, as I usually do, but I won't. This class is comprised of six cousins, 4 from in town, and 2 from a short ways out of town. They are of various ages and abilities so it's a bit challenging, but it's pretty good. One little girl in particular has the voice of an angel, and when she decides to speak, my day is made.
My last class is made up of 4 junior high school students. This is a good class, although they spoke much too much Japanese in class until 3 weeks ago. This is when I (clever guy that I am) decided to "trick" them into speaking English by entering into a contract with them, whereby if they satisfied certain conditions, I would take them all out to dinner. (I have taken them out to 2 dinners thus far.) I thought I'd never have to lay out one yen on this deal. But apparently, these kids are brighter than I thought. During the first class, only one student spoke any Japanese. My rules were much too lax. Each kid had three strikes and every 10 minutes there was a 1-minute J-break (Japanese break). So 2 weeks ago we went to Mos Burger. Last week I told them I simply had to change the rules or else I would go broke and have to move back in with my parents. So now the entire class as a whole had 3 strikes, and they would have to follow the new rules for 2 weeks in succession to win the food. Today we went to Coco Curry (a bit cheaper than Mos.) I'm relying on two kids to break the rules, but, being the bright kids that they are, they've adopted unforeseen tactics, such as skipping class, and putting strips of scotch tape over their mouths. I think I'll have to rethink the rules again for next week.
Well, goodnight!
My second class is bi-weekly. Or is it bi-monthly. I can never remember what the "bi-" signifies. I could look it up, as I usually do, but I won't. This class is comprised of six cousins, 4 from in town, and 2 from a short ways out of town. They are of various ages and abilities so it's a bit challenging, but it's pretty good. One little girl in particular has the voice of an angel, and when she decides to speak, my day is made.
My last class is made up of 4 junior high school students. This is a good class, although they spoke much too much Japanese in class until 3 weeks ago. This is when I (clever guy that I am) decided to "trick" them into speaking English by entering into a contract with them, whereby if they satisfied certain conditions, I would take them all out to dinner. (I have taken them out to 2 dinners thus far.) I thought I'd never have to lay out one yen on this deal. But apparently, these kids are brighter than I thought. During the first class, only one student spoke any Japanese. My rules were much too lax. Each kid had three strikes and every 10 minutes there was a 1-minute J-break (Japanese break). So 2 weeks ago we went to Mos Burger. Last week I told them I simply had to change the rules or else I would go broke and have to move back in with my parents. So now the entire class as a whole had 3 strikes, and they would have to follow the new rules for 2 weeks in succession to win the food. Today we went to Coco Curry (a bit cheaper than Mos.) I'm relying on two kids to break the rules, but, being the bright kids that they are, they've adopted unforeseen tactics, such as skipping class, and putting strips of scotch tape over their mouths. I think I'll have to rethink the rules again for next week.
Well, goodnight!
Friday, July 15, 2005
It is now Friday afternoon, and I haven't written in a few days. I think this is because I had to recover from my Wednesday, which is often soul-crushing. (Although I don't think we have souls, I will use the word here, as I think it aptly communicates my feeling of Woden's Days.)
Once a month, Wednesday starts much earlier than usual. On these days, I must awake early, and travel 30 minutes to a smallish town out of the city, to teach at a Christian daycare centre. I'm not sure if these little kids are Christians (they certainly don't behave in a Christian manner), and if they are, I'm not sure why. Why would any intelligent Japanese citizen, contented with the private, individualistic and peaceful spirituality of Buddhism or Shintoism, consciously decide to cross to the Dark Side... uh, I mean Christianity?
The hour I spend here is divided (as in my Tuesday class) into a younger group and an older group. The younger group is almost too young, not really knowing what to make of this tall, big-nosed gaijin, singing and dancing around, and speaking strange sounds that he wants them to repeat. I think it was in this class that a young boy came up to me and hit me in the groin. I usually reply to these occurrences with a "Yamete kudasai!" (stop that please), but this time there was a bit more pain, so I went after the kid and grabbed him with both hands and scolded him until the smile went from his face. Then I was back in front of the class as if nothing had happened, jumping and singing. Ah, the humiliation.
My drive out to this town is pleasant. It was raining this day, but in this new country, I find that the rain doesn't bother me as much as it might in my home country. As do most roads here, this one wound around hills and mountains and past small towns and rice fields. A sibling of mine has previously stated that the trees sprouting from the mountains in Japan look like broccoli. However, I would have to say that some resemble asparagus, while others look like large feathers. Of course, many of them look like trees, as trees should.
In the early afternoon I teach an adult class at a local community centre. Then it's off to teach a small 4-student primary class at a larger community centre. Then to teach a brother and sister at their parents' apartment. I think they're 4 and 6 years old respectively. They spent some time with their family in the west so they can speak fairly easily. Conversation classes with young children are challenging. Then it's another brother-sister class at one of my school's classroom buildings. This class used to be painful, but is getting more enjoyable. They seem to like me well enough, and the brother is really impressed by my hair-covered arms, going so far as to gently rub his hands over them, as if this were completely normal to do to a teacher. Then I teach a medical professional, who typically has me edit his research team's journal submissions. This is challenging, as we only have an hour together, much of which is spent on me listening to him read the article. It's quite difficult catching grammar problems when you're listening to differently-accented English. I had originally wanted him to credit me in his papers, but I realized that my superficial editing would not be up to par, and would I really want my name below a paper that I hadn't put my 100% into? My mind was made up when I read in an editor's response to one of the submissions that I had edited, that it might benefit the authors if they had a native speaker of English go over the paper. Ouch!
Once a month, Wednesday starts much earlier than usual. On these days, I must awake early, and travel 30 minutes to a smallish town out of the city, to teach at a Christian daycare centre. I'm not sure if these little kids are Christians (they certainly don't behave in a Christian manner), and if they are, I'm not sure why. Why would any intelligent Japanese citizen, contented with the private, individualistic and peaceful spirituality of Buddhism or Shintoism, consciously decide to cross to the Dark Side... uh, I mean Christianity?
The hour I spend here is divided (as in my Tuesday class) into a younger group and an older group. The younger group is almost too young, not really knowing what to make of this tall, big-nosed gaijin, singing and dancing around, and speaking strange sounds that he wants them to repeat. I think it was in this class that a young boy came up to me and hit me in the groin. I usually reply to these occurrences with a "Yamete kudasai!" (stop that please), but this time there was a bit more pain, so I went after the kid and grabbed him with both hands and scolded him until the smile went from his face. Then I was back in front of the class as if nothing had happened, jumping and singing. Ah, the humiliation.
My drive out to this town is pleasant. It was raining this day, but in this new country, I find that the rain doesn't bother me as much as it might in my home country. As do most roads here, this one wound around hills and mountains and past small towns and rice fields. A sibling of mine has previously stated that the trees sprouting from the mountains in Japan look like broccoli. However, I would have to say that some resemble asparagus, while others look like large feathers. Of course, many of them look like trees, as trees should.
In the early afternoon I teach an adult class at a local community centre. Then it's off to teach a small 4-student primary class at a larger community centre. Then to teach a brother and sister at their parents' apartment. I think they're 4 and 6 years old respectively. They spent some time with their family in the west so they can speak fairly easily. Conversation classes with young children are challenging. Then it's another brother-sister class at one of my school's classroom buildings. This class used to be painful, but is getting more enjoyable. They seem to like me well enough, and the brother is really impressed by my hair-covered arms, going so far as to gently rub his hands over them, as if this were completely normal to do to a teacher. Then I teach a medical professional, who typically has me edit his research team's journal submissions. This is challenging, as we only have an hour together, much of which is spent on me listening to him read the article. It's quite difficult catching grammar problems when you're listening to differently-accented English. I had originally wanted him to credit me in his papers, but I realized that my superficial editing would not be up to par, and would I really want my name below a paper that I hadn't put my 100% into? My mind was made up when I read in an editor's response to one of the submissions that I had edited, that it might benefit the authors if they had a native speaker of English go over the paper. Ouch!
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
My Tuesday is finished. My classes went well, and here is a summary of them.
At 4pm I have a 4-student kids' class at a local community centre. Their ages run from 4 to 6. I have mixed feelings about this class. The kids are invariably well-behaved little children or ill-behaved little donkeys. The room is too big, there are no tables or chairs or whiteboards, and this leads the kids to run around like hamsters loose from their wheels. One of the kids is possibly learning-disabled. His mother has witnessed his behaviour in the class, and I wonder why she continues to bring him. Another kid is quite bright, but can be very disruptive. Lately though, he's been pretty good. More on these kids as they do things that deserve mentioning.
This class ends at 4:45pm, after which I rush 15 minutes out of town to teach a class of two kids at 5:30: one, a bright 8-year old girl; the other, a possibly brain-dead 10-year old boy. If I were this kid, I couldn't show my face in this class. A student, 2 years younger than I, can read, write, and operate her brain better than I can. I've tried communicating to this kid (and to his mother) that he needs to do some home-study, but to no avail. This class runs for 50, sometimes painful, minutes.
Then, quickly back to the main school, to teach the aforementioned junior high school student at 6:45pm for 45 minutes. I found a folk-tale from Quebec about a farmer who sold his soul to the Devil in exchange for the Devil's loup-garou minions doing all of his work for him at night. He had found an interesting Japanese tale about a maidservant, who, after a misunderstanding with her master's wife, was thrown into a well with her hands bound behind her back (soon to be followed by her grieving mother, and a few other family members). Years later, a never-before-seen insect emerged from the well, which, when inspected under a magnifying glass, displayed a shape very closely resembling the figure of a young women, with, you guessed it, her hands bound behind her back. Now, I wasn't able to glean morals from either of these stories, beyond the obvious: don't make deals with the Devil; and don't choose as your career to be a Japanese maidservant.
Next, it's to the home of a Japanese couple, where I typically get served a delicious meal. I try to opt out of this meal every other week. It's difficult to teach with mouthfuls of rice, or squid brains. Tonight I learned that the husband had been in two local triathlons about 15 years ago. We talked about this most of the hour I was there (8pm - 9pm). Rather than an obnoxious child, they own a small daschund (as do many, many Japanese couples.)
Finally, done. Back home to dinner and my girlfriend.
Tomorrow, I teach a once-a-month (too often for my tastes) nursery school class about 30 minutes out of town. I do not anticipate it being enjoyable. More on this after I return. If I return...
At 4pm I have a 4-student kids' class at a local community centre. Their ages run from 4 to 6. I have mixed feelings about this class. The kids are invariably well-behaved little children or ill-behaved little donkeys. The room is too big, there are no tables or chairs or whiteboards, and this leads the kids to run around like hamsters loose from their wheels. One of the kids is possibly learning-disabled. His mother has witnessed his behaviour in the class, and I wonder why she continues to bring him. Another kid is quite bright, but can be very disruptive. Lately though, he's been pretty good. More on these kids as they do things that deserve mentioning.
This class ends at 4:45pm, after which I rush 15 minutes out of town to teach a class of two kids at 5:30: one, a bright 8-year old girl; the other, a possibly brain-dead 10-year old boy. If I were this kid, I couldn't show my face in this class. A student, 2 years younger than I, can read, write, and operate her brain better than I can. I've tried communicating to this kid (and to his mother) that he needs to do some home-study, but to no avail. This class runs for 50, sometimes painful, minutes.
Then, quickly back to the main school, to teach the aforementioned junior high school student at 6:45pm for 45 minutes. I found a folk-tale from Quebec about a farmer who sold his soul to the Devil in exchange for the Devil's loup-garou minions doing all of his work for him at night. He had found an interesting Japanese tale about a maidservant, who, after a misunderstanding with her master's wife, was thrown into a well with her hands bound behind her back (soon to be followed by her grieving mother, and a few other family members). Years later, a never-before-seen insect emerged from the well, which, when inspected under a magnifying glass, displayed a shape very closely resembling the figure of a young women, with, you guessed it, her hands bound behind her back. Now, I wasn't able to glean morals from either of these stories, beyond the obvious: don't make deals with the Devil; and don't choose as your career to be a Japanese maidservant.
Next, it's to the home of a Japanese couple, where I typically get served a delicious meal. I try to opt out of this meal every other week. It's difficult to teach with mouthfuls of rice, or squid brains. Tonight I learned that the husband had been in two local triathlons about 15 years ago. We talked about this most of the hour I was there (8pm - 9pm). Rather than an obnoxious child, they own a small daschund (as do many, many Japanese couples.)
Finally, done. Back home to dinner and my girlfriend.
Tomorrow, I teach a once-a-month (too often for my tastes) nursery school class about 30 minutes out of town. I do not anticipate it being enjoyable. More on this after I return. If I return...
My second class, beginning a little after 10am, was a bit better than last week's, when it seemed as if I'd been thrown into a cage filled with 20 enraged and/or crying small primates. This morning, I tried to warn them that if they didn't behave well, then I wouldn't lift them up over my head, but it was difficult, as they don't understand poor, backwards-sounding Japanese. So, they learned a bit, we played some games, and then I lifted each one of them over my head. It's a good work-out, although getting so close to all these kids encourages the infection of S____ Sensei with little-kid germs.
I picked up the weekly pay and drove home. My girlfriend had already left to run some errands. I started my first blog posting and received a call from her. Could you bring me some garbage bags? she asked. OK, I said. So I bought some exciting ones at Exciting Town and met her at the cafe. We had some lunch and then I returned home. Said hello to and fed the cat, wishing I could take him to the park (but it's been rainy here lately, so I can't) and came upstairs to continue blogging.
I have 4 more classes today (ugh) starting at 4pm and I'm about to prep for them. I'm trying to find an African ghost story for my conversation class with a male junior high school student. He lived in the U.S. for a while, so his English is decent. During my search I came across the following web page:
http://www.mundanebehavior.org/issues/v1n2/mandel.htm
Here, there's a fascinating account of an African tribe's reaction to a retelling of the story of Hamlet. Anyone who is in the least interested in Shakespeare should give this a quick read.
Back to work!
I picked up the weekly pay and drove home. My girlfriend had already left to run some errands. I started my first blog posting and received a call from her. Could you bring me some garbage bags? she asked. OK, I said. So I bought some exciting ones at Exciting Town and met her at the cafe. We had some lunch and then I returned home. Said hello to and fed the cat, wishing I could take him to the park (but it's been rainy here lately, so I can't) and came upstairs to continue blogging.
I have 4 more classes today (ugh) starting at 4pm and I'm about to prep for them. I'm trying to find an African ghost story for my conversation class with a male junior high school student. He lived in the U.S. for a while, so his English is decent. During my search I came across the following web page:
http://www.mundanebehavior.org/issues/v1n2/mandel.htm
Here, there's a fascinating account of an African tribe's reaction to a retelling of the story of Hamlet. Anyone who is in the least interested in Shakespeare should give this a quick read.
Back to work!
I woke up on time this morning, but as usual, I advanced my alarm clock (the old mechanical type) by about 30 minutes, and tried to fall back asleep. It was difficult, as I was thinking of only two things: the mosquito that we had seen last night but were unable to kill; and the buggy 4 and 5 years olds I was soon to teach... but would be unable to kill.
After the alarm rang a second time, I switched it off, and lay there, contemplating my next move. Would I get up? Or, would I sleep in late and miss my class? I opted for the latter, but alas, not 3 minutes later, my girlfriend's arm swung around and gave me a stiff hit, perhaps a not-so-unconscious message that I should get up and get ready.
So I did. I had a cold-water shave (no hot water in our bedroom washroom) and realized that I had been bitten by the mosquito near the right corner of my mouth. Or maybe it was only a shaving welt. I fed the incessantly-meowing cat and hopped into the shower (fortunately, there IS hot water in the downstairs shower; not in the sink though.) I dressed, kissed her cheek, and left the house.
I was running a bit late, but decided not to forgo my weekly ritual of stopping at one of the many, many Lawson's for a cold can of coffee and a rice triangle (onigiri in Japanese.) I consumed these quickly and arrived at the B___ nursery with 0 seconds to spare. (Arrival time: 9:30am.)
To enter the nursery, I must enter a 4-digit passcode to breach the gate, and cross a sandy playground teaming with children. Today, the passcode had been changed, and there were no children. Was I in luck? Had the entire nursery school population been whisked away in some Twilight-Zonesque incident? No, unfortunately, it hadn't. One of the female staff noticed I was having problems with the lock, and quickly came over to show me the new code. Upon closer inspection, I saw many children indeed inside the school, and began to hear cries of "S____ Sensei!" amongst more general cries and crying.
Removing my shoes just inside the entrance, I wearily (wearily on the inside, but wide-eyed and genki on the outside) entered the first classroom. This is a 30-minute lesson with just as many 4 year olds. Although it's the younger of my two classes, it's also the better behaved. Because the class is structured around many songs, and many repetitive drills, there isn't much time for misbehaving. However, depending on which Japanese helper has been scheduled, the childrens' behaviour can sometimes get out of hand. There's a lot of crotch- or bum-poking (that's pretty normal stuff for Japanese kids to do to foreign teachers, I'm told) as well as hair-pulling and punching amongst the children. Today went quite well, and there were no incidents.
Stay tuned for a description of the second class. Right now, I'm going to meet my girlfriend downtown and grab some lunch.
After the alarm rang a second time, I switched it off, and lay there, contemplating my next move. Would I get up? Or, would I sleep in late and miss my class? I opted for the latter, but alas, not 3 minutes later, my girlfriend's arm swung around and gave me a stiff hit, perhaps a not-so-unconscious message that I should get up and get ready.
So I did. I had a cold-water shave (no hot water in our bedroom washroom) and realized that I had been bitten by the mosquito near the right corner of my mouth. Or maybe it was only a shaving welt. I fed the incessantly-meowing cat and hopped into the shower (fortunately, there IS hot water in the downstairs shower; not in the sink though.) I dressed, kissed her cheek, and left the house.
I was running a bit late, but decided not to forgo my weekly ritual of stopping at one of the many, many Lawson's for a cold can of coffee and a rice triangle (onigiri in Japanese.) I consumed these quickly and arrived at the B___ nursery with 0 seconds to spare. (Arrival time: 9:30am.)
To enter the nursery, I must enter a 4-digit passcode to breach the gate, and cross a sandy playground teaming with children. Today, the passcode had been changed, and there were no children. Was I in luck? Had the entire nursery school population been whisked away in some Twilight-Zonesque incident? No, unfortunately, it hadn't. One of the female staff noticed I was having problems with the lock, and quickly came over to show me the new code. Upon closer inspection, I saw many children indeed inside the school, and began to hear cries of "S____ Sensei!" amongst more general cries and crying.
Removing my shoes just inside the entrance, I wearily (wearily on the inside, but wide-eyed and genki on the outside) entered the first classroom. This is a 30-minute lesson with just as many 4 year olds. Although it's the younger of my two classes, it's also the better behaved. Because the class is structured around many songs, and many repetitive drills, there isn't much time for misbehaving. However, depending on which Japanese helper has been scheduled, the childrens' behaviour can sometimes get out of hand. There's a lot of crotch- or bum-poking (that's pretty normal stuff for Japanese kids to do to foreign teachers, I'm told) as well as hair-pulling and punching amongst the children. Today went quite well, and there were no incidents.
Stay tuned for a description of the second class. Right now, I'm going to meet my girlfriend downtown and grab some lunch.
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