Wednesday, December 28, 2011
brb
Hey, people of the web! We're currently getting our gaijin on in a brand new country! Expect hilarity on our return. For now, I will leave you with this cryptic teaser: Kenny Rogers does more than chicken. That is all.
Friday, December 9, 2011
The Haps
Hey! How's it going, Internet? Been awhile, huh? Boy, I can't believe it's been a month since we rapped last, huh? Seems like almost yesterday. Well, let's see what all I can catch you up on...
The JLPT has come and gone without too much fanfare. I think it went a bit better this time, but we won't know until February; the test's grading process is a very time-intensive, highly subjective one that requires many weeks of careful consideration. WEEK ONE: RUN SCANTRON SHEET THROUGH COMPUTER. WEEKS TWO THROUGH EIGHT: COFFEE BREAK.
The holidays have been as full of workplace-mandated merriment as ever. The Christmas party was last Friday, and again I was passed up for the role of Santa Claus. Instead, I was given the part I've played a dozen times before as Two-Term President Emeritus of the Truman State University RPG Club: Elf. When I was tasked with getting "Santa Claus" to the door past the horde of children when our part of the pageant was over, I realized that Santa keeps elves around for more reasons than simply making toys; there were moments were, had I not intervened, children would have trampled each other into a festive red paste just to touch the hem of Santa's coat. I was convinced we weren't going to make it out alive for at least a minute or two. And what would the holidays be without a good healthy fear of death?
Additionally, I've introduced the wonders of Hanukkah to a new generation of bored 8-year-olds, though it took a bit of doing: I had gotten as far as, "Hannukah is a Jewish holiday" before hands shot up. "What's 'Jewish?'" asked Wesley (stupid nicknames, remember?). "Juice?" Kyle asked. "Chewing gum?" guessed Justin. After I calmed everyone down, I explained: "Jewish means 'Yudayajin.'" I so dislike using Japanese in the classroom, but this was a case that couldn't really be handled with pantomime. I patted myself on the back for bothering to look up the word before and dispensing with this matter effectively so we could move on.
Wesley rose his hand again. With surprising fluency, he asked, "How do you say Yudayajin in Japanese?" Oy.
Our band, Raku 3, has been taking off lately, in a manner of speaking. We've been playing about one concert a month at local dives, all free shows (though we do pass around a hat when we remember to), all pretty well attended. There exists a bootleg CD of one of our shows, and come the new year we were considering recording an actual album. Readers of this blog, you all have a standing invitation to any and all future shows, though for now they'll all be in the Osaka area. Please enjoy these photos of the kind of horrible places in Osaka's ghetto where we play (+50 points to indie cred!)
Other than all that, we're just gearing up for our travel plans this Christmas! We were going to take advantage of our strategic geographic placement to make a move on Australia, take in some sun and some much-needed ambient English. Sadly, though they look pretty close together over on this side of the globe, it turns out it's still a 10-hour flight to Sydney, and thus, it costs about as much as it would to just fly to the States. Fine, we decided, we'd go wherever we could fly to for cheap from here...Thailand! Vietnam! Taiwan! The Philippines!...are all out of our price range. Taking the ferry to Okinawa, our next plan, got as far as reading about the area, reserving accommodations, and buying ticke--SERIOUSLY, THAT MUCH? The latest plan, then, is to take the ferry to South Korea, which we'll attempt to do up right for the holidays.
Expect something hilarious about Christmas in Japan sometime later this week (though really, at this point in our third year here, anything hilarious about life in Japan is starting to wear a bit). This is H-Bomb and Jenny Dreadful, signing off!
The JLPT has come and gone without too much fanfare. I think it went a bit better this time, but we won't know until February; the test's grading process is a very time-intensive, highly subjective one that requires many weeks of careful consideration. WEEK ONE: RUN SCANTRON SHEET THROUGH COMPUTER. WEEKS TWO THROUGH EIGHT: COFFEE BREAK.
The holidays have been as full of workplace-mandated merriment as ever. The Christmas party was last Friday, and again I was passed up for the role of Santa Claus. Instead, I was given the part I've played a dozen times before as Two-Term President Emeritus of the Truman State University RPG Club: Elf. When I was tasked with getting "Santa Claus" to the door past the horde of children when our part of the pageant was over, I realized that Santa keeps elves around for more reasons than simply making toys; there were moments were, had I not intervened, children would have trampled each other into a festive red paste just to touch the hem of Santa's coat. I was convinced we weren't going to make it out alive for at least a minute or two. And what would the holidays be without a good healthy fear of death?
Additionally, I've introduced the wonders of Hanukkah to a new generation of bored 8-year-olds, though it took a bit of doing: I had gotten as far as, "Hannukah is a Jewish holiday" before hands shot up. "What's 'Jewish?'" asked Wesley (stupid nicknames, remember?). "Juice?" Kyle asked. "Chewing gum?" guessed Justin. After I calmed everyone down, I explained: "Jewish means 'Yudayajin.'" I so dislike using Japanese in the classroom, but this was a case that couldn't really be handled with pantomime. I patted myself on the back for bothering to look up the word before and dispensing with this matter effectively so we could move on.
Wesley rose his hand again. With surprising fluency, he asked, "How do you say Yudayajin in Japanese?" Oy.
Our band, Raku 3, has been taking off lately, in a manner of speaking. We've been playing about one concert a month at local dives, all free shows (though we do pass around a hat when we remember to), all pretty well attended. There exists a bootleg CD of one of our shows, and come the new year we were considering recording an actual album. Readers of this blog, you all have a standing invitation to any and all future shows, though for now they'll all be in the Osaka area. Please enjoy these photos of the kind of horrible places in Osaka's ghetto where we play (+50 points to indie cred!)
Raku Three, the venue's proprietor, and four of our fans (well, three and one old guy who wanted to be in the photo.)
Other than all that, we're just gearing up for our travel plans this Christmas! We were going to take advantage of our strategic geographic placement to make a move on Australia, take in some sun and some much-needed ambient English. Sadly, though they look pretty close together over on this side of the globe, it turns out it's still a 10-hour flight to Sydney, and thus, it costs about as much as it would to just fly to the States. Fine, we decided, we'd go wherever we could fly to for cheap from here...Thailand! Vietnam! Taiwan! The Philippines!...are all out of our price range. Taking the ferry to Okinawa, our next plan, got as far as reading about the area, reserving accommodations, and buying ticke--SERIOUSLY, THAT MUCH? The latest plan, then, is to take the ferry to South Korea, which we'll attempt to do up right for the holidays.
Expect something hilarious about Christmas in Japan sometime later this week (though really, at this point in our third year here, anything hilarious about life in Japan is starting to wear a bit). This is H-Bomb and Jenny Dreadful, signing off!
Thursday, November 10, 2011
This is Only a Test
Sorry, folks, no blog to speak of now. There are plenty of issues going down (nothing quite as substantive as the last few posts), but at the moment we at Gaijin HQ are driving ourselves crazy preparing for the JLPT. In short, the JLPT is the Japanese Language Proficiency Test.
...In slightly less short: Jenn and I are taking the JLPT Level 3 test for the second time this December. Basically, this is the test that gets you a piece of paper that says you can speak (and read) Japanese. While the uses of this piece of paper beyond Japan may be obscure and unforeseen, one of our goals in coming to Japan was to actually learn Japanese, something that goes a bit quicker with some motivation.
For those of you out there who aren't abreast with the minutiae of our language acquisition, our Japanese has finally, after many, many months of study, progressed from "basically nonexistant" to "bad." We have Japanese friends, we can make some conversation, we can make a few jokes (ask Jenn, hers are pretty awesome), we can order in most restaurants and even order pizza over the phone...but amazing as all that may seem sometimes, my vocabulary is still routinely dwarfed by 4-year-olds. It's not an easy language, is what I'm trying to say.
To this end, we enrolled to take the JLPT last July to give ourselves a concrete goal and a way of measuring our progress. After flailing through a smattering of Japanese textbooks, we finally procured the services of a really awesome tutor, whom Jenn sees three times a week and I see once a week (the life of a kindergarten teacher is a busy one). She's an awesome foreign language teacher, and this is coming from someone who sees a lot of really sucky foreign language teachers, someone who knows that it's considerably harder to teach English than it is to speak English. After a good hard 5 months of drilling vocabulary and grammar and a million such things, we went in and soundly failed the test.
With another few months' work of preparation behind us, we are going into the test again on December 4th. Which is why I have so much studying to do, which is why I don't have time to write...a...blog.
Hm.
Well, as long as I'm here, how about a couple pictures?
A sign posted above the toilet in a restaurant/bar that we frequent. Translated: "Rather than speed, control." An important message for us all (well, all us men, anyway).
AAAAAAH! THE DEAD HAVE RISEN! This is probably one of the more fun crafts we've had in Free School. Happy Day of the Dead, everyone! You'll hear from us again sometime after the JLPT, probably!
...In slightly less short: Jenn and I are taking the JLPT Level 3 test for the second time this December. Basically, this is the test that gets you a piece of paper that says you can speak (and read) Japanese. While the uses of this piece of paper beyond Japan may be obscure and unforeseen, one of our goals in coming to Japan was to actually learn Japanese, something that goes a bit quicker with some motivation.
For those of you out there who aren't abreast with the minutiae of our language acquisition, our Japanese has finally, after many, many months of study, progressed from "basically nonexistant" to "bad." We have Japanese friends, we can make some conversation, we can make a few jokes (ask Jenn, hers are pretty awesome), we can order in most restaurants and even order pizza over the phone...but amazing as all that may seem sometimes, my vocabulary is still routinely dwarfed by 4-year-olds. It's not an easy language, is what I'm trying to say.
To this end, we enrolled to take the JLPT last July to give ourselves a concrete goal and a way of measuring our progress. After flailing through a smattering of Japanese textbooks, we finally procured the services of a really awesome tutor, whom Jenn sees three times a week and I see once a week (the life of a kindergarten teacher is a busy one). She's an awesome foreign language teacher, and this is coming from someone who sees a lot of really sucky foreign language teachers, someone who knows that it's considerably harder to teach English than it is to speak English. After a good hard 5 months of drilling vocabulary and grammar and a million such things, we went in and soundly failed the test.
With another few months' work of preparation behind us, we are going into the test again on December 4th. Which is why I have so much studying to do, which is why I don't have time to write...a...blog.
Hm.
Well, as long as I'm here, how about a couple pictures?
AAAAAAH! THE DEAD HAVE RISEN! This is probably one of the more fun crafts we've had in Free School. Happy Day of the Dead, everyone! You'll hear from us again sometime after the JLPT, probably!
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Hella Ween
I came to Japan for many reasons: adventure, excitement, fabulous prizes. I did not come here to get paid to make children cry -- that has always been, at best, a side benefit. However, for the last week, a large part of my duties has been to devise cost-effective ways to terrify children into screaming puddles of fear. For you see, we have just concluded the most important season of the ESL teacher's calendar, a holiday as long as Lent, as meaningful as Sweetest Day, as not-getting-you-out-of-work as Columbus Day, and as fun as all three put together: Halloween.
I should point out that I have grown to absolutely loathe Halloween over the last few weeks. By my count, I have had to work at least 300,000 Halloween parties in the last week and a half alone. That plus an entire month of Halloween crafts, Halloween games, Halloween vocabulary, Halloween picture books, and Halloween songs is enough to make a hardworking English teacher run screaming for the unemployment line.
Speaking of: one of the biggest Halloween affairs at the kindergarten is converting Ahiru class into an お化け屋敷, a haunted house. As you might imagine, this is a complex transformation, involving many hours of moving furniture as well as liberal application of black felt and crappy, almost certainly toxic faux-spiderwebs.
Also: haunted broccoli!
For the 2- and 3-year-olds, we keep it pretty mild: lights on, no spooky music, no masks, no jumping out from behind lockers. As you might imagine, they took it rather well. A rough transcript of Yamada-sensei taking Donuts class through the haunted house: "Ooh, wow, spidaa! 見て、見て, ske-re-ton! Oh, look, Harry-sensei! Goo mohning!"
For the oldest kids, however, we pulled out all the stops short of buying more materials. Scary music and sound effects, dropping or throwing dummy vampire bats, a clip from "The Ring" on a loop, the whole 8.229 meters. Having been volunteered for haunted house detail (rather than the just-as-frantic Pumpkin UFO Toss, Mystery Box, or Bat Fishing), I opted to reprise my role from last year as Hand Grabbing At You From Under A Table. I'd like to think that I gave a decent performance--I did the whole bit, knocking on the table, shaking it, growling, etc. etc. Really a classic interpretation of GRR I AM A MONSTER AND I WANT TO EAT YOU.
By and large, I was met with three reactions from the children. The first and most common was a kid being taken aback, then laughing and saying something along the lines of "Oh, it's Harry-sensei. Hallo!" (This is what's known as the correct reaction). The second was, predictably, wailing, tears, screaming. No peeing, thankfully--I've learned that children seem to pee in response to boredom, not fear.
The third and most immediately distasteful reaction was kicking. A lot of the older kids, especially the boys, have had their natural fear responses (and common sense, and social skills) replaced with an all-purpose urge to bellow, "Orra! Monster! I will fight you!" and unleash their 3 feet of fury on the presumed Bad Guy. The more well-mannered ones restrained themselves and just spent the whole trip through the haunted house proclaiming, "全然怖くない！", or, "I'm not scared at all!" These boys accounted for 30% of the kicks that I got from under the table--the other 70% were performed by a single boy who went through the haunted house at least three times for the single purpose of wreaking furious vengeance upon any animate or inanimate object that happened into his field of vision. He punched every prop and every teacher at least once. These are the children they get to star in condom commercials in other countries.
No known photo exists of this kid, as he moves far too fast to be captured on film. Please enjoy this visual approximation.
At one point, Ahiru room's glass door was broken, a spiderweb of glass far scarier than the fake ones within the room. It has not yet been determined if it was broken by the 2nd category of children in panic or the 3rd in rage. This did illustrate for me the important role that a haunted house plays from an educational standpoint, however. I'm not one to enjoy the screams of children (except for a couple of children in particular); one of the 6-year-old girls would only go through the haunted house bawling, clinging to a teacher's torso like a terrified koala, and screaming how terrified she was. My soft side (admittedly, my largest side) felt for her...after all, I hate scary movies, I never went to a haunted house, I ran screaming out of movie theaters during the scary parts of "Temple of Doom" and "Independence Day." Why should we make kids go through such an unpleasant experience? Just for yuks?
No, I think I've just finally reached that stage of adulthood where I understand the meaning of Luke Skywalker's trial at the tree on Dagobah: as humans, we need to know how we respond to fear, and we need to practice being afraid so we can deal with it throughout our lives. The Harumidai haunted house is an extremely safe environment for children to experience a fear response -- when it was finished, some kids flat-out denied having been afraid, some realized with relief that it was just the teachers in masks, but the kids I respected the most were the ones who admitted that they had cried but now had clearly calmed down. If nothing else, the smarter kids learned that the things they saw couldn't actually hurt them, and that ghosts, mummies, and disembodied werewolf hands aren't things to really be feared.
After I finished the school's final party last Saturday (a multi-stage affair that ran from 9 a.m. to 6 p.m.), I was far too full of Halloween spirit to do anything but go home and collapse; there were parties aplenty on the town that night, but I couldn't take so much as one more "Boo." Wake me when it's Guy Fawkes Day.
But first, for your viewing enjoyment, a selection of adorable pictures of children in Halloween costumes. Enjoy!
Awww, right? Brief tangent about Halloween costumes: I'd imagine the most popular costumes here are pretty similar to the most popular ones in the states. Lots of Transformers, lots of princesses, a smattering of Spider-men (Spiders-man?). Probably #1 for the girls was Fresh Pretty Cure (basically Sailor Moon), and #1 for the boys would be Goseija (the show Power Rangers was stolen from...yep, it's still running). The only real cultural difference here would be that a lot of boys were dressed as witches, too, with the hat and everything. Seems "witch" isn't quite as gendered in Japan as it is in the States. Go fig. Anyway, back to it:
And here's what I looked like while taking all of these pictures. Even when my last reserves of enthusiasm for Halloween have run dry (which takes about 20 minutes), my enthusiasm for pirates is boundless.
Monday, October 24, 2011
I Am the 2.4% (Of the 1.22%)
So much of the news of the last 2 1/2 years has felt like something out of a dream, stories or fantasies that only exist on the Internet or the occasional English-language newspaper that I pick up: nobody here talks about the obstructionism of the Republicans or the economic crisis in Europe, and if they did, I wouldn't understand a word of it. Pretty much the last news to come out of America and land over here was the death of Michael Jackson, which they still can't stop talking about (I have 7-year-old students who can Moonwalk). I have a small group of gaijin coworkers and friends, of course, but most of them hail from places other than America -- according to a reputable source, Americans make up just 2.4% of the gaijin population -- which certainly broadens the conversation, but I don't hear all that much about American politics. My only political involvement here consists of talking about the Daily Show with my Canadian coworker and talking about the news with Jenn (which is awesome, though we do tend to read the same articles and blogs).
The last month has been a hard time to be so cut off from what's going on Stateside...If I weren't here in Japan, I would be Occupying Wall Street or any other available thoroughfare I could find. I'll spare the blogosphere a rehash of the typical laundry list of middle class liberal complaints -- others have said it a lot better than I would be able to --
--suffice to say that I think the OWS movement will be my generation's defining moment that will finally get the damn Boomers off our backs about getting off the couch and fighting the power already. I consider myself an ideological hippie through and through, but I've got enough of a pessimistic streak that I honestly never thought a movement like this would come along; I assumed that the only angry mobs I'd be seeing in the newspaper were Tea Partiers waving guns and complaining about how hard it is for white suburbanites in the richest country of the history of the world (I mean, think of the unreasonable burden of income taxes they're being made to pay! No group on earth has ever been persecuted this way except for everyone in the history of fucking civilization. *Ahem* End digression.)
In fact, one thing that (perhaps unwisely) defuses my rage at the Man is the knowledge that, like the Tea Baggers, I am one privileged motherfucker. Not the Man himself, perhaps, but one who has benefitted from His doings...a Manling, if you will, or a Manlet. As a white, heterosexual male, I've never had to face discrimination based on my origins or appearance; I'm 100% free of debt; I've gotten an awesome liberal arts education and two degrees for free. In short, what do I have to complain about? I guess it's typically been the privileged folk spearheading revolutions in the past, from the landed slave-owners at the original Tea Party through to all of the non-privileged non-white participants in Second Wave Feminism who had to remind the most prominent members of their movement that they and their mothers had been in the workplace for generations out of necessity. In any case, it's a bit of a schlep to Occupy KC or StL, so I'll do the absolute minimum for the cause and...talk about Japan? Sure.
Returning to the idea of privilege, I really think that I've traded one privilege for another by coming to Japan. On the one hand, I'm comfortable here, treated very politely by one and all, safe from the scary job market in the States. I'm afforded some special treatment: I don't have to work the ridiculous hours my Japanese coworkers do, and I don't have to pretend that I have no desires other than doing my job satisfactorily. On the other hand...
...This is an ad for my school's Halloween Party. The line at the bottom reads "Gaikokujin no sensei to asobou yo!" Pretty much translates as: "Come and play with our foreigners!" I'm a token here. A novelty for my curly hair and skin tone. Part of the "Gaijin Zoo," as a friend of mine puts it.
The thing is, I can live with it. But then, I signed up to be here; people who are subjected to this kind of fetishization or disenfranchisement in the US (and they are many) are being done wrong. I'm a minority here, with a lot of the attached negative baggage, but I get that special treatment, too. Some gaijin here make it their life's mission to fight this kind of divisiveness, as previously mentioned. More power to them (if that expression makes any sense under the circumstances) for fighting the good fight. I'm not invested enough in living in Japan to put too much of myself into changing this country, nor do I really feel like I have the right to as a temporary resident (though I did march in the Kansai Rainbow Parade last year).
As it is, I'm kind of struggling with what my responsibilities are as an expat. Is it enough to send in an absentee ballot every couple of years? Do I have a duty to try and make Japan better for guys like me, who tend to have it pretty great everywhere already? Is there more I can be doing to thwart the plans of the Owners in the US from over here?
Aw, who am I kidding? By next year the Republicans will make sure absentee (Democrat) ballots are trashed or prosecuted for voter fraud.
The last month has been a hard time to be so cut off from what's going on Stateside...If I weren't here in Japan, I would be Occupying Wall Street or any other available thoroughfare I could find. I'll spare the blogosphere a rehash of the typical laundry list of middle class liberal complaints -- others have said it a lot better than I would be able to --
Click to enlarge enough to read the whole thing. Seriously, do it, this is awesome.
--suffice to say that I think the OWS movement will be my generation's defining moment that will finally get the damn Boomers off our backs about getting off the couch and fighting the power already. I consider myself an ideological hippie through and through, but I've got enough of a pessimistic streak that I honestly never thought a movement like this would come along; I assumed that the only angry mobs I'd be seeing in the newspaper were Tea Partiers waving guns and complaining about how hard it is for white suburbanites in the richest country of the history of the world (I mean, think of the unreasonable burden of income taxes they're being made to pay! No group on earth has ever been persecuted this way except for everyone in the history of fucking civilization. *Ahem* End digression.)
In fact, one thing that (perhaps unwisely) defuses my rage at the Man is the knowledge that, like the Tea Baggers, I am one privileged motherfucker. Not the Man himself, perhaps, but one who has benefitted from His doings...a Manling, if you will, or a Manlet. As a white, heterosexual male, I've never had to face discrimination based on my origins or appearance; I'm 100% free of debt; I've gotten an awesome liberal arts education and two degrees for free. In short, what do I have to complain about? I guess it's typically been the privileged folk spearheading revolutions in the past, from the landed slave-owners at the original Tea Party through to all of the non-privileged non-white participants in Second Wave Feminism who had to remind the most prominent members of their movement that they and their mothers had been in the workplace for generations out of necessity. In any case, it's a bit of a schlep to Occupy KC or StL, so I'll do the absolute minimum for the cause and...talk about Japan? Sure.
Returning to the idea of privilege, I really think that I've traded one privilege for another by coming to Japan. On the one hand, I'm comfortable here, treated very politely by one and all, safe from the scary job market in the States. I'm afforded some special treatment: I don't have to work the ridiculous hours my Japanese coworkers do, and I don't have to pretend that I have no desires other than doing my job satisfactorily. On the other hand...
...This is an ad for my school's Halloween Party. The line at the bottom reads "Gaikokujin no sensei to asobou yo!" Pretty much translates as: "Come and play with our foreigners!" I'm a token here. A novelty for my curly hair and skin tone. Part of the "Gaijin Zoo," as a friend of mine puts it.
The thing is, I can live with it. But then, I signed up to be here; people who are subjected to this kind of fetishization or disenfranchisement in the US (and they are many) are being done wrong. I'm a minority here, with a lot of the attached negative baggage, but I get that special treatment, too. Some gaijin here make it their life's mission to fight this kind of divisiveness, as previously mentioned. More power to them (if that expression makes any sense under the circumstances) for fighting the good fight. I'm not invested enough in living in Japan to put too much of myself into changing this country, nor do I really feel like I have the right to as a temporary resident (though I did march in the Kansai Rainbow Parade last year).
As it is, I'm kind of struggling with what my responsibilities are as an expat. Is it enough to send in an absentee ballot every couple of years? Do I have a duty to try and make Japan better for guys like me, who tend to have it pretty great everywhere already? Is there more I can be doing to thwart the plans of the Owners in the US from over here?
Aw, who am I kidding? By next year the Republicans will make sure absentee (Democrat) ballots are trashed or prosecuted for voter fraud.
Friday, October 14, 2011
Jenn, Empress of the Desert
As mentioned in the last post, Jenn and I got in a lot of traveling in a relatively (read: insanely) short period of time, opting for an overnight trip to Funkytown Japan and a camping trip to Desert World in the same week. Tottori, located on the sea of Japan, is actually the least populous prefecture in the country, with a population of just holy-cow-that's-a-lot-of-people. We opted to spend our 36 hours there mostly in the prefectural capital, Tottori (imaginative people, the Japanese).
When I informed my coworkers, friends, and neighbors that we took a trip to Tottori, responses ranged from "...Huh," to "Really? Tottori?" (they said the same thing about Tokushima, as it happens). As always, it seems our travel destination calculations were flawless. Wikitravel, our go-to free, mostly accurate, and above all, free travel guide, opens its section on Tottori with a description of a bleak Japanese tragic novel about a desert town that imprisons visitors in an enormous sand pit and forces them to dig for their lives. It then goes on to point out that Tottori's locals "are certainly friendly — and thoroughly unlikely to strand you at the bottom of a sand pit." *Cue "Vacation" by The Go-Gos*
As long as we were cramming new experiences into as short a time as possible, we also opted to camp rather than pay for a hotel. This was the first time that Jenn and I had done anything related to camping that doesn't involve the Rocky Horror Picture Show, so we were thrilled at all the possibilities that awaited us in the exciting field of sleeping out of doors. What new bugs and/or poisonous plants would we discover in our sleeping bags? I borrowed the necessary equipment from a coworker, promising that we would return it in pristine condition barring any unforeseen circumstances such as dirt.
On the first day of our trip, we fell out of the early-morning bus and promptly made plans to leave town: according to Wikitravel, in a nearby village was a beach that was made up of a special silica sand that, so the legends go, "sings" under one's feet on a hot day. After the slowest train ride we've ever experienced in Japan (the train was ten whole minutes late, if you can believe such an atrocity) and an hour-long hike around twisting, pedestrian-hostile roads, we found our way to Idegahama Beach. The sand, while pleasant, was remarkable in its resemblance to all other sand on the planet. With one exception, that is: due to the sand's ultrafine nature, we are still turning it up in our shoes, pockets, suitcases, and hair. No singing.
Thanks to another late train, we made it to our campground approximately an hour after the sun had gone down, so we proceeded to play my favorite game: Assemble an Unfamiliar Tent in the Dark. I can only assume that we won, though I may have broken the rules when I frantically called the tent's owner and begged for help.
The next morning, we packed up our numerous heavy possessions and set off for Tottori Dunes, which our map claimed was adjacent to the campground. Indeed, just a short walk took us to the Western end of the Dunes. Most of the attractions, including the largest dune and the guest center (including the restaurant and restrooms) were on the Eastern end. Pay attention, there will be a quiz on this in a bit.
The Tottori Dunes, which are legally required to be described as either "majestic" or "mysterious," are Tottori's main tourist draw. Tourists flock from across Japan and all over -- well, OK, just Japan, really -- to visit the Tottori Sand Dunes and...look at them, I guess. They're good for looking at. You can also get your picture taken while riding a camel, but we ruled out this option from the start; I established a firm "no camels" policy when Jenn and I first moved in together, and I see no reason to revisit it years later (unless camels have stopped being total fuckers at some point in the last 5 years). So, no camels for us, then, but fortunately for we city-weary travelers, the Dunes also abutted the ocean, meaning one side of them was a lovely beach (this kind of undercut the Mystery of the Dunes for me).
So, finding ourselves at the edge of the Dunes, we decided to take what appeared to be a short hike down the dunes to the beach rather than make the long trek Eastward to the visitor's center.
Our spirits at the outset, as you can see, were high and glamorous. The beach was only a quick 20 minute stumble down the huge mountains of sand. When we got to the water's edge, where we planned to relax and plan out the rest of our day, we were shocked to see that the beach was all but abandoned. What suckers, these Japanese tourists! What were they thinking, paying huge sums of money to sit on a resentful pack animal and get their picture taken when there was beautiful nature right in front of them?
After a nice, leisurely swim, we packed up our possessions once again and set off to climb the dunes back to the bus stop, near where we had camped the night before. It was right about then when the fatigue set in; as it turns out, it's considerably harder to climb UP an enormous mound of sand than to shuffle down it. Within 10 minutes, we had expended all of our energy. Within 20, we had finished the last of the water we brought. After 25 minutes we had turned into every cliche of dying of thirst in the desert we had ever seen in the movies (you know, "go on without me, can't go on any longer," imagining each other with a hamburger for a head, etc.). In all, it took us about an hour and a half to get back to the top of the hill. By the time we got back to the city center, we had earned sunburns that actually radiated 6 inches away from our bodies. Deserts, it seemed, were not your average vacation spot for a reason.
At last, Pismo Beach! And all the sand we can eat!
It will be a long, long time before we plan a vacation around the concept that there is a lot of sand somewhere.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
You Will Dance, Sucka
So, in an inspired bout of oh-god-I-can't-take-it-anymore, Jenn and I decided to make up for some lost traveling by cramming several months' worth of vacations into a week. To start, we decided to visit the smallest of Japan's main islands, Shikoku (literally, "Fourth Country"). Shikoku is known for the 33 Temple Pilgrimage, one of Japan's most actual pilgrimage routes, and for being smaller than other Japanese islands. It also boasts a wealth of naturally-occurring tourist traps.
Which brings me to as close to a point as we'll get in this blog: Japan has mastered the art of tourism in an interesting way that will probably be mimicked the world over in coming decades. In general, when sightseeing, the Holy Grail for our generation of privileged white people is Authenticity. We don't want the typical tourist crap that's just made up for foreigners, your Disneylands, your Biggest Balls of Twine and what-have-you; we want real, historical sites and cultural artifacts that are simultaneously off the beaten path AND easily accessible without a car, of and for the local culture AND having information in English for our benefit, unspoiled by tourists AND...y'know, with a gift shop.
Which makes Japan a perfect country for the modern traveler! Japan is absolutely full of tourist hot spots that are completely, authentically historical...in that they were invented for tourists decades (if not centuries) ago. Beppu, for instance, the place that we visited in March, is renowned as a vacation spot for its public baths, which are counted among the 17th century list of the Three Great Hot Springs of Japan (which was written to drum up tourism, more or less).
Most every city and region in Japan, no matter how remote, is famous in Japan for some specialty produce or snack or folk tale or festival or soft drink that is, almost without exception, blown up in importance to draw in tourists. But, apart from Kyoto and Tokyo, most of these were meant for Japanese tourists, which means they're all nicely authentic, and since they've been passing around lists of the great tourist spots and appropriate souvenirs for centuries, everything is perfectly historical, too!
Case in point: Tokushima. The town on Shikoku that lies on the end of our local train/ferry line, it is raved about on Wikitravel as "pleasant enough to pass through on your way to more interesting places." Fun ahoy!
We arrived, seasick from our two-hour ride on a dingy little commuter ferry, full of excitement and not a lot else. This being just a weekend jaunt, we had taken the preparatory measures of making a hotel reservation at the cheapest place we could find, and...that's about it, really. We've gotten good enough at traveling within Japan by now that we decided to put our faith in the Tourist Information kiosk that we knew would be headquartered in the train station. Sure enough, we found a wealth of information about the Awa Odori Matsuri, the traditional dance festival known across Japan (sound familiar yet?), which would be happening about a week after we were due to leave. Worry not, though: at the Awa Odori Information Center, located 500 m. from the train station, it was Awa Odori every day!
That evening, we took the special Awa Odori Bus that took us from our hotel to the Awa Odori Information Center for the Awa Odori Recital, where we proceeded to sit around until the curtain rose on dozens of people in festival garb, dancing their little hearts out for us. We were the only Westerners in the crowd, an unusual occurrence for us, especially at a touristy place like this. This guy then proceeded to teach us the one step involved in the Awa Odori, which I will now pass on to you:
Raise your right hand and extend your left foot. Withdraw both, then extend your left hand and right foot. Repeat, occasionally yelling something indistinct.
In sum, this dance has about half as much to it as the Hokey Pokey. Still, we watched, attention captured by the sheer scale of the colors and costumes. A festival every day, indeed!
After a good half hour of this, the audience was entreated to come up and dance with the townspeople. Now, having read my fair share of H. P. Lovecraft stories, I know better than to accept an offer to participate in a town's ancient ritual; that's a sure way to be burned alive or sacrificed to an Old One. (Plus, I have a phobia of audience participation that has persisted through two degrees, a high school acting career, a year of musical performance and four years of teaching. For whatever reason, whenever a performer looks my way -- be they a Renaissance Faire wench, a stage hypnotist, or a really anyone with a microphone -- I instantly find religion and pray to anyone who might listen that I don't get noticed.) Still, this being a special occasion, we made an exception; after all, Awa Odori doesn't come along every d...hm. Somewhat sheepishly, we got up and shook what our mothers gave us. When the dust cleared and we were asked to return to our seats, Jenn had been snagged with a lei, which meant that she was marked to remain on stage. I was about 70% sure this wasn't a human sacrifice thing, so I grabbed the camera and sat down quietly.
Which brings me to as close to a point as we'll get in this blog: Japan has mastered the art of tourism in an interesting way that will probably be mimicked the world over in coming decades. In general, when sightseeing, the Holy Grail for our generation of privileged white people is Authenticity. We don't want the typical tourist crap that's just made up for foreigners, your Disneylands, your Biggest Balls of Twine and what-have-you; we want real, historical sites and cultural artifacts that are simultaneously off the beaten path AND easily accessible without a car, of and for the local culture AND having information in English for our benefit, unspoiled by tourists AND...y'know, with a gift shop.
Which makes Japan a perfect country for the modern traveler! Japan is absolutely full of tourist hot spots that are completely, authentically historical...in that they were invented for tourists decades (if not centuries) ago. Beppu, for instance, the place that we visited in March, is renowned as a vacation spot for its public baths, which are counted among the 17th century list of the Three Great Hot Springs of Japan (which was written to drum up tourism, more or less).
Also, the whole town smells like egg farts.
Most every city and region in Japan, no matter how remote, is famous in Japan for some specialty produce or snack or folk tale or festival or soft drink that is, almost without exception, blown up in importance to draw in tourists. But, apart from Kyoto and Tokyo, most of these were meant for Japanese tourists, which means they're all nicely authentic, and since they've been passing around lists of the great tourist spots and appropriate souvenirs for centuries, everything is perfectly historical, too!
Case in point: Tokushima. The town on Shikoku that lies on the end of our local train/ferry line, it is raved about on Wikitravel as "pleasant enough to pass through on your way to more interesting places." Fun ahoy!
We arrived, seasick from our two-hour ride on a dingy little commuter ferry, full of excitement and not a lot else. This being just a weekend jaunt, we had taken the preparatory measures of making a hotel reservation at the cheapest place we could find, and...that's about it, really. We've gotten good enough at traveling within Japan by now that we decided to put our faith in the Tourist Information kiosk that we knew would be headquartered in the train station. Sure enough, we found a wealth of information about the Awa Odori Matsuri, the traditional dance festival known across Japan (sound familiar yet?), which would be happening about a week after we were due to leave. Worry not, though: at the Awa Odori Information Center, located 500 m. from the train station, it was Awa Odori every day!
That evening, we took the special Awa Odori Bus that took us from our hotel to the Awa Odori Information Center for the Awa Odori Recital, where we proceeded to sit around until the curtain rose on dozens of people in festival garb, dancing their little hearts out for us. We were the only Westerners in the crowd, an unusual occurrence for us, especially at a touristy place like this. This guy then proceeded to teach us the one step involved in the Awa Odori, which I will now pass on to you:
Raise your right hand and extend your left foot. Withdraw both, then extend your left hand and right foot. Repeat, occasionally yelling something indistinct.
In sum, this dance has about half as much to it as the Hokey Pokey. Still, we watched, attention captured by the sheer scale of the colors and costumes. A festival every day, indeed!
After a good half hour of this, the audience was entreated to come up and dance with the townspeople. Now, having read my fair share of H. P. Lovecraft stories, I know better than to accept an offer to participate in a town's ancient ritual; that's a sure way to be burned alive or sacrificed to an Old One. (Plus, I have a phobia of audience participation that has persisted through two degrees, a high school acting career, a year of musical performance and four years of teaching. For whatever reason, whenever a performer looks my way -- be they a Renaissance Faire wench, a stage hypnotist, or a really anyone with a microphone -- I instantly find religion and pray to anyone who might listen that I don't get noticed.) Still, this being a special occasion, we made an exception; after all, Awa Odori doesn't come along every d...hm. Somewhat sheepishly, we got up and shook what our mothers gave us. When the dust cleared and we were asked to return to our seats, Jenn had been snagged with a lei, which meant that she was marked to remain on stage. I was about 70% sure this wasn't a human sacrifice thing, so I grabbed the camera and sat down quietly.
What followed was an exercise in paranoia made hideously real: the old guy running the show began interviewing the four "winners" one by one, asking more or less incomprehensible questions. The most I could get out of the first two interviews was "ramen." When he came to Jenn, he very politely asked in Japanese, "Do you speak Japanese?", which Jenn answered affirmatively. Unduly encouraged, he then rattled off a series of quick grunts and whistles*, then held the microphone to her expectantly.
Jenn answered very well with her brilliant pronunciation, though judging by the dude's reaction, they may have been answers to the wrong questions. Still, Jenn knows how to work a crowd: she got a great laugh out of the crowd with her Osaka slang (as an imperfect parallel, imagine a Japanese tourist visiting Manhattan and saying "y'all come back now, hear?"). For her valor, she was awarded a beautiful Awa Odori handkerchief.
And thus our trip to Tokushima more or less came to an end. We'd seen most of what the town had to offer already, in that we had been to the Awa Odori Center. The next day, we spent several hours getting to the town's other sight, the Indigo Dying Center, which was a blast, and then several more hours getting back to the ferry. What can we take away from this adventure? Well, up to this point, I had tried to take a Dave Barry line as my motto: "Nobody cares if you can dance. Just get up and dance." Personally, I still believe it, but now I know that participating without self-consciousness is no guarantee that they won't make fun of you in front of a crowd. Just another day on display in the Gaijin Zoo!
Next: Gaijin Patrol World 2-1: Hot, Hot Desert!
*As previously mentioned, Old-Man-Japanese is its own breed of crazy. I think our Japanese has gotten pretty damn good, evidenced by the fact that we can do all kinds of tasks like pay bills, order in restaurants, complain about the weather, and apologize for our rudness -- the full suite of useful Japanese, really -- but every sentence uttered by a man over 60 sounds like barking to me. For instance, rather than saying "Ohayou Gozaimasu" to greet people in the morning, the old dudes at my school shorten it to "Nf!"
Monday, August 15, 2011
They [We] Live!
Yes, rumors of our death and all that. Anyway: we're back from a long hiatus of not doing anything particularly interesting! It's really remarkable how after two short years of living here, what once seemed bizarre and blog-worthy now seems...well, humdrum. Ho-hum, giant spiders, wacky Engrish T-shirts, pizza with corn on it, yes yes, nothing new there, everyday stuff. However, we've crammed two entire vacations into the last week, so full blog coverage is upcoming shortly! Here's a teaser:
What do these pictures have to do with each other? Or...anything else, for that matter? Tune in this week to find out!
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Roof Off-Tearing
From the Raku Three's concert last Saturday night. Our audience, though small, was enthusiastic, and I think we played better than we ever had before. Apologies for the feedback in the second and third numbers; we couldn't get the mike quite right again after our guest vocalist finished her songs. Enjoy!
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Owe My Soul to the [Redacted]
Hard to believe it, but it's been an entire year since I first started working at the kindergarten. There have been times where I've thought that I could be perfectly happy doing this job for my whole life -- these would be the times where I'm getting hugged by my favorite students and getting adorable photos or pictures from them, as seen in the last post -- and then there are the times where I can't shake the urge to just bolt out of the room and announce my resignation. That's mostly just during meetings, though. Something that's been rather trying the last few weeks has been that the school has come down with a bad case of the Meetings. Morale meetings, attitude meetings, posture meetings, weekend meetings, evening meetings, meetings about other meetings. Plenty of time to sit and think about what all this was like last year.
I think one of the major differences between last year and this year is that a year ago I was still fresh from unemployment. A reason to be awake and wearing my suit? Yes please! All the general suckiness and bowing and pretending-to-give-a-shit was easy because it was novel. It was crazy, it was vaguely demeaning, but hell, it was an interesting cultural experience, right? Something I'd never done before! Now, though, after a year of seeing the same kind of ritualistic offering of one's body and soul to the company, it wore a bit thin.
As with last year, I'm not at liberty to divulge much of the meeting's contents; in fact, there was a warning by the principle that we need to discover who keeps leaking sensitive information about our Mission Plan and such to the parents, as they apparently shouldn't know this stuff. So, here are a few juicy tidbits of kindergarten intel that I'm assuming is not classified. This is the real, hand-to-Buddha educational philosophy of Enchou-Sensei, our beloved principal, as revealed to us over the course of the meeting and the pre-meeting meetings. Behold, the fuel in the kindergarten machine!
I think one of the major differences between last year and this year is that a year ago I was still fresh from unemployment. A reason to be awake and wearing my suit? Yes please! All the general suckiness and bowing and pretending-to-give-a-shit was easy because it was novel. It was crazy, it was vaguely demeaning, but hell, it was an interesting cultural experience, right? Something I'd never done before! Now, though, after a year of seeing the same kind of ritualistic offering of one's body and soul to the company, it wore a bit thin.
As with last year, I'm not at liberty to divulge much of the meeting's contents; in fact, there was a warning by the principle that we need to discover who keeps leaking sensitive information about our Mission Plan and such to the parents, as they apparently shouldn't know this stuff. So, here are a few juicy tidbits of kindergarten intel that I'm assuming is not classified. This is the real, hand-to-Buddha educational philosophy of Enchou-Sensei, our beloved principal, as revealed to us over the course of the meeting and the pre-meeting meetings. Behold, the fuel in the kindergarten machine!
- Japanese children are for shit these days. They can't stand very hot or cold temperatures, probably because they're always being coddled with heating and air conditioning. And they can only pay attention for a few minutes!
- They're also really weak because they keep eating so much meat and wheat-based products.
- Japan being a wealthy country, everyone only thinks of themselves and not of others, especially in Osaka.
- The solution is for educators to teach their students to have good hearts, even emphasizing moral enlightenment over teaching ability.
- As such, the foundation of our education is to make sure our students feel that they are loved and to teach them to show that love to others.
- Love is expressed in proper posture and bowing. THE END.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Metchya Kawaii
Just a few pictures of what exactly I do all day and the gratitude I get for it in the form of...well, fan letters. The cute is definitely one of the perks of working in a kindergarten. Also: wuv.
A card from one of my favorite students (of course I have favorite students), Shintarou. It reads "Shintarou arigatou." When pressed, he told me that I'm the bigger face on the left. The resemblance is uncanny, no?
Shintarou again, plus his little sister, who also attends the kindergarten and also has professional-level eyebrows. On the reverse side of this new year's card (1 of 2 that I got from kids last year):
Translated: "Harry-sensei." I guess I do stick my tongue out a lot, huh?
The other New Year's card I received, this from one of my other favorites. Note the curly portrait of moi in the bottom left, plus the excellent handwriting of her name. I can only guess at the context of the picture.
A Valentine's Day card from one of my...less motivated students, Nene. She's 10. Also, she kind of sucks. This card really represents her interest in English beautifully.
Kid's Box, my group of 3 and 4 year olds from Panda class. Man, that book brought the house down.
Not sure what I'm doing here, but I keep getting kids' portraits of me in which I seem to have my arms raised. So whatever it is, I think I do it a lot.
A gift from Yasuhara-sensei, and a lovely one at that. My name was spelled "Hurry" originally, but that was easily fixed with a Sharpie.
And a card I got just the other day from my favorite girl with a lazy eye. I couldn't make any sense of the picture, nor could I get her to confirm or deny anything other than it was supposed to be me. Jenn, however, helped me realize that I am, in fact, raising my arms. Surprise! The inscription is my favorite phrase in Japanese: "Harry-sensei daisuki." D'aww.
A card from one of my favorite students (of course I have favorite students), Shintarou. It reads "Shintarou arigatou." When pressed, he told me that I'm the bigger face on the left. The resemblance is uncanny, no?
Shintarou again, plus his little sister, who also attends the kindergarten and also has professional-level eyebrows. On the reverse side of this new year's card (1 of 2 that I got from kids last year):
Translated: "Harry-sensei." I guess I do stick my tongue out a lot, huh?
The other New Year's card I received, this from one of my other favorites. Note the curly portrait of moi in the bottom left, plus the excellent handwriting of her name. I can only guess at the context of the picture.
A Valentine's Day card from one of my...less motivated students, Nene. She's 10. Also, she kind of sucks. This card really represents her interest in English beautifully.
Kid's Box, my group of 3 and 4 year olds from Panda class. Man, that book brought the house down.
Not sure what I'm doing here, but I keep getting kids' portraits of me in which I seem to have my arms raised. So whatever it is, I think I do it a lot.
A gift from Yasuhara-sensei, and a lovely one at that. My name was spelled "Hurry" originally, but that was easily fixed with a Sharpie.
And a card I got just the other day from my favorite girl with a lazy eye. I couldn't make any sense of the picture, nor could I get her to confirm or deny anything other than it was supposed to be me. Jenn, however, helped me realize that I am, in fact, raising my arms. Surprise! The inscription is my favorite phrase in Japanese: "Harry-sensei daisuki." D'aww.
Monday, April 11, 2011
Happy Blogiversary!
I'm sure you don't need us to point this out considering how closely you've been following these matters, but this is actually the 100th post on "Amazing Tales of the Gaijin Patrol!" And to think that only a year and a half ago this blog was little more than a glint in our collective desire for attention. Wow.
In tried-and-true blogditions, according to the Blogmandments that inform our blogposition, without which the blog blog bloggity blog. Or is it? Anyway, please enjoy this best-of compilation of some of our greatest moments of the past 18-odd months. Think of this as the clip show of blogs (and remember, clip shows are already the olive loaf of television).
Remember that time we came to Japan and it was really weird? (doodley-doo, doodley-doo, doodley-doo)
Or how about that other thing? Ha ha, that was great.
And let's not forget this. Now that's what I call a sticky situation!
And of course, mummies in the basement.
Can you believe it's only been six hundred and five days? Just look at all the progress we've made since being embarrassed to go to a restaurant or throw away our garbage in the proper receptacles! Maids are still f¥¥¥ed up, of course.
Here's to another hundred posts!
In tried-and-true blogditions, according to the Blogmandments that inform our blogposition, without which the blog blog bloggity blog. Or is it? Anyway, please enjoy this best-of compilation of some of our greatest moments of the past 18-odd months. Think of this as the clip show of blogs (and remember, clip shows are already the olive loaf of television).
Remember that time we came to Japan and it was really weird? (doodley-doo, doodley-doo, doodley-doo)
Or how about that other thing? Ha ha, that was great.
And let's not forget this. Now that's what I call a sticky situation!
And of course, mummies in the basement.
Can you believe it's only been six hundred and five days? Just look at all the progress we've made since being embarrassed to go to a restaurant or throw away our garbage in the proper receptacles! Maids are still f¥¥¥ed up, of course.
Here's to another hundred posts!
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
To Paraphrase a T-Rex: "I Want to Plug My Band. Please Allow Me."
Sorry it's been so quiet 'round these parts lately...I promise, it's not because we've all been turned into Godzillas or superheroes over here. Things have been groovy enough, in fact, that a funky-ass concert is just about to break out:
I do, in fact, have plenty to say about many topics of interest. So, as a preview for the upcoming weeks of "Amazing Tales of the Gaijin Patrol," be sure to look forward to hearing about...
See you at the show on Saturday! Like the man said, "Free concerts and your ass will follow." Or something.
I do, in fact, have plenty to say about many topics of interest. So, as a preview for the upcoming weeks of "Amazing Tales of the Gaijin Patrol," be sure to look forward to hearing about...
- * A trip to Beppu, the Las Vegas of Japan! Except instead of a desert, it's boiling pits of molten sulfur, and instead of gambling, it's taking baths!
- * A look back at a year of teaching kindergarten and having meetings.
- * An unflinching look at how information flows in the Internet Age and how it affects popular perceptions. With...video game jokes, probably.
- * Kit Kats!
- * And more!
See you at the show on Saturday! Like the man said, "Free concerts and your ass will follow." Or something.
Monday, March 14, 2011
With Regards to the Earthquake
Obviously, we've been getting a lot of e-mails and expensive-ass phone calls from concerned friends and relatives inquiring about how we're doing in the wake of what's been called the worst natural disaster to ever strike Japan. The short answer: we're fine. The long answer: we're totally, absolutely fine, and our lives have not even been disrupted in the least.
It's a little odd, actually. All the headlines (the English ones, that is) keep mentioning the "Japanese quake" as though the entire country were 10 feet underwater now. I understand the need for generalization, and I understand that most people in the States might not have the best firsthand knowledge of Japanese geography, by let me put it to rest: Osaka is quite far from where the quake hit. Japan is roughly the size of California, and Osaka and Sendai City are about as far apart as San Diego and San Francisco. There were tsunami advisories here, but nothing came of it.
I wish I had anything interesting or substantive to tell you all about Japan, some unique insider's perspective into the state of a nation in crisis - that is the Blogger's Dream, I believe - but we've got nothing. I was at work, and I didn't even feel a thing. Jenn was riding the train and thought that it was nothing more than a moderately bumpy ride. Other than that, we had a lovely weekend, made pancakes, went bowling. I'm sure you all in the States are much better informed than we are; we get our news from the NY Times and Google (yes, we're still illiterate). The trains are all running on time.
Again, I wish I had more to say. Please do your part if you can. Something more fun and hopefully more substantive coming sometime soon.
It's a little odd, actually. All the headlines (the English ones, that is) keep mentioning the "Japanese quake" as though the entire country were 10 feet underwater now. I understand the need for generalization, and I understand that most people in the States might not have the best firsthand knowledge of Japanese geography, by let me put it to rest: Osaka is quite far from where the quake hit. Japan is roughly the size of California, and Osaka and Sendai City are about as far apart as San Diego and San Francisco. There were tsunami advisories here, but nothing came of it.
I wish I had anything interesting or substantive to tell you all about Japan, some unique insider's perspective into the state of a nation in crisis - that is the Blogger's Dream, I believe - but we've got nothing. I was at work, and I didn't even feel a thing. Jenn was riding the train and thought that it was nothing more than a moderately bumpy ride. Other than that, we had a lovely weekend, made pancakes, went bowling. I'm sure you all in the States are much better informed than we are; we get our news from the NY Times and Google (yes, we're still illiterate). The trains are all running on time.
Again, I wish I had more to say. Please do your part if you can. Something more fun and hopefully more substantive coming sometime soon.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Robo-Boogie
It is the distant future: the year 2011. There are times where having the opportunity to write about life in Japan is a precious gift. This is absolutely one of those times.
The other day, Osaka hosted the world's first bipedal robot marathon. I'll just repeat that: Osaka was home to the first-ever 26.2 mile race of bipedal robots. If your reaction to this is anything like mine, you are expecting news of the successful launch of Skynet any day now.
The proud winner of this year's marathon. Look at that charming smile!
So yeah, it's pretty much "I for one welcome our cruel robot overlords" time. Except, of course, for the fact that these robots are adorably tiny. Please enjoy these highlights from the race.
The other day, Osaka hosted the world's first bipedal robot marathon. I'll just repeat that: Osaka was home to the first-ever 26.2 mile race of bipedal robots. If your reaction to this is anything like mine, you are expecting news of the successful launch of Skynet any day now.
The proud winner of this year's marathon. Look at that charming smile!So yeah, it's pretty much "I for one welcome our cruel robot overlords" time. Except, of course, for the fact that these robots are adorably tiny. Please enjoy these highlights from the race.
It's even better if you imagine "Yakkity Sax" playing from 0:17.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Everybody bok bok
My kindergarten just held its nth annual recital, an affair treated with the same level of planning and ritual as the Academy Awards or a presidential visit. Teacher movements were calculated down to the minute, meetings went on long into the night, all to ensure that the annual taking-photos-of-three-year-olds-yelling-and-wetting-their-pants went off without a hitch. And it did! I guess!
Please enjoy the fruits of 4 years of English education, the crowning achievement of my teaching career (seriously, I can't think of anything more satisfying), as performed by Rainbow Class at the 2011 Happyokai:
And, as an illustration of how early education is different in Japan, how many times did you do this in music class? How much do you wish you could have?
Mind you, these kids aren't particularly amazing or disciplined outside of this activity; this class is one of the more unruly ones at the school. Maybe it's just because this is awesome and everybody loves to do it.
Please enjoy the fruits of 4 years of English education, the crowning achievement of my teaching career (seriously, I can't think of anything more satisfying), as performed by Rainbow Class at the 2011 Happyokai:
And, as an illustration of how early education is different in Japan, how many times did you do this in music class? How much do you wish you could have?
Mind you, these kids aren't particularly amazing or disciplined outside of this activity; this class is one of the more unruly ones at the school. Maybe it's just because this is awesome and everybody loves to do it.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Snow Day
Sorry, no blog this week. In case you haven't heard, Osaka has been stricken by the white-hot vengeance of the season. Snow demons, what hath thou wrought?
The school buses stopped running, the city buses were about half an hour late, there was utter chaos. Teachers (not me) threw snowballs at other teachers (also not me). It got so bad that even a well-meaning gaijin couldn't take out the garbage from Activity Kids without getting thoroughly dusted.
Happy Valentine's Day, snow demons. And a hearty fuck you to you, too.
The school buses stopped running, the city buses were about half an hour late, there was utter chaos. Teachers (not me) threw snowballs at other teachers (also not me). It got so bad that even a well-meaning gaijin couldn't take out the garbage from Activity Kids without getting thoroughly dusted.
Happy Valentine's Day, snow demons. And a hearty fuck you to you, too.
Monday, February 7, 2011
In the Name of Conglomerated Soy, Demon Come OUT!
Yes, the weather is turning, the gleeful bacchanalia of Groundhog's Day is past us, which means that it's time once again for that greatest of all holidays: Demon-Bean-Banishing Day!
Just in case you don't happen to remember the traditional practices of Setsubun (for shame!): on February 3rd, which is the lunar New Year, a family will gather at home or at a nearby shrine and fling dried soybeans at a designated family member wearing a demon mask. While doing so, they're supposed to shout "鬼はそと！福は内！", or "Demons out! Good luck in!" In addition, everyone is supposed to eat a number of beans corresponding to their age. Are you sensing a theme here?
Since I'm employed at the kindergarten this time around, I'm in a little better position to see how this fascinating holiday is celebrated by its core demo. And "demo" is absolutely the right word here, as it turns out! According to my cooking instructor -- a man just old, ornery, and Japanese enough for me to believe absolutely anything he says -- Setsubun is more or less made up by the relevant corporations, in particular by Big Soybean. I know, it's horrendous that such a pure celebration of faith and...I don't know, joy or something can be exploited by greedy industries. The practice of throwing beans at demons does go back a few centuries, but it's exploded in the past 30 years thanks to big advertising pushes from the soybean conglomerates.
Worse, the tradition of eating makizushi was entirely invented about 20 years ago by grocery stores! The thing that gets me about this is just how wholeheartedly I bought into the entire affair. I mean, every year on a Medieval demon-themed day, you're supposed to face a special compass direction as determined by Chinese geomancy and eat an eel roll? Of course! You can't make that shit up! Unfortunately, as it turns out, someone absolutely did make that shit up.
Still, I can't let the Man get me down. Nothing to do but try to enjoy and terrify:
This photo was picked from hundreds taken by my coworkers, and is unique among the roll in that there are no crying children in it. The vice principal, a lady whom I will only describe as "classy" as long as I am employee of Harumidai Kindergarten, gave an introductory Setsubun speech to all the students. As she did so, the kids were quietly equipped with a small pouch of dried beans. Here's an excerpt from the beginning of the talk (keeping in mind that my Japanese is not yet on par with a 3-year-old):
"So, children, it's been very cold lately, right? And maybe you've been feeling sick lately? Well, that's because of demons. There are demons in your house and school." Fun, yeah? Is this really the sort of thing you should be instilling in kids?
Then, two of the bus drivers jumped out in masks and tiger-print loincloths (called onipantsu, or "Demon Underwear"), wielding huge clubs and yelling at two hundred odd children. Hence the crying. I think this is one of the beloved childhood rituals that is way, way more fun for the adults than the kids, and thus is remembered and cherished by each generation so they can visit its horrors upon the next.
Then the vice principal invited the demons on stage to announce their conquest and introduce the laws of their new regime to the children.
On an unrelated note:
No idea why, but the "Digital TV" monster was absolutely everywhere, including a 5-foot-tall version at the kindergarten. I had come to the conclusion that it was for parents who were opposed to Digital TV and wanted to drive it from their homes. A friend tells me that it may just be one more reminder for Japanese adults that analog broadcasts will be ending soon. And hey, not a bad way to remind people; if memory serves, they tried absolutely everything else to let people know about the digital switchover in the States.
Just in case you don't happen to remember the traditional practices of Setsubun (for shame!): on February 3rd, which is the lunar New Year, a family will gather at home or at a nearby shrine and fling dried soybeans at a designated family member wearing a demon mask. While doing so, they're supposed to shout "鬼はそと！福は内！", or "Demons out! Good luck in!" In addition, everyone is supposed to eat a number of beans corresponding to their age. Are you sensing a theme here?
Since I'm employed at the kindergarten this time around, I'm in a little better position to see how this fascinating holiday is celebrated by its core demo. And "demo" is absolutely the right word here, as it turns out! According to my cooking instructor -- a man just old, ornery, and Japanese enough for me to believe absolutely anything he says -- Setsubun is more or less made up by the relevant corporations, in particular by Big Soybean. I know, it's horrendous that such a pure celebration of faith and...I don't know, joy or something can be exploited by greedy industries. The practice of throwing beans at demons does go back a few centuries, but it's exploded in the past 30 years thanks to big advertising pushes from the soybean conglomerates.
Worse, the tradition of eating makizushi was entirely invented about 20 years ago by grocery stores! The thing that gets me about this is just how wholeheartedly I bought into the entire affair. I mean, every year on a Medieval demon-themed day, you're supposed to face a special compass direction as determined by Chinese geomancy and eat an eel roll? Of course! You can't make that shit up! Unfortunately, as it turns out, someone absolutely did make that shit up.
Still, I can't let the Man get me down. Nothing to do but try to enjoy and terrify:
This photo was picked from hundreds taken by my coworkers, and is unique among the roll in that there are no crying children in it. The vice principal, a lady whom I will only describe as "classy" as long as I am employee of Harumidai Kindergarten, gave an introductory Setsubun speech to all the students. As she did so, the kids were quietly equipped with a small pouch of dried beans. Here's an excerpt from the beginning of the talk (keeping in mind that my Japanese is not yet on par with a 3-year-old):
"So, children, it's been very cold lately, right? And maybe you've been feeling sick lately? Well, that's because of demons. There are demons in your house and school." Fun, yeah? Is this really the sort of thing you should be instilling in kids?
Then, two of the bus drivers jumped out in masks and tiger-print loincloths (called onipantsu, or "Demon Underwear"), wielding huge clubs and yelling at two hundred odd children. Hence the crying. I think this is one of the beloved childhood rituals that is way, way more fun for the adults than the kids, and thus is remembered and cherished by each generation so they can visit its horrors upon the next.
Then the vice principal invited the demons on stage to announce their conquest and introduce the laws of their new regime to the children.On an unrelated note:
No idea why, but the "Digital TV" monster was absolutely everywhere, including a 5-foot-tall version at the kindergarten. I had come to the conclusion that it was for parents who were opposed to Digital TV and wanted to drive it from their homes. A friend tells me that it may just be one more reminder for Japanese adults that analog broadcasts will be ending soon. And hey, not a bad way to remind people; if memory serves, they tried absolutely everything else to let people know about the digital switchover in the States.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)