March 2004
Tuesday, March 2, 3004 — Where’s Dan?
My kids, the ones who met Dan, at Kokufu keep asking where Dan is. “Dan-san wa?”
I made soba today with my students. Hmmm. I’ve certainly eaten soba noodles plenty of times. But preparing them for myself to eat at home … that’s another story altogether.
Thursday, March 4, 2004 — Golden Week and chicken flu
So it looks like I’ll be going to Sydney, New South Wales for my Golden Week vacation. Golden Week is a series of holidays here that last nearly a week in early May. JETs typically use that time to travel.
I picked Sydney because I wanted a vibrant, interesting place where 1.) English was spoken, 2.) public transportation was reliable and 3.) it was safe. I paid for the trip today. To avoid all the confusion of the furikomi (bank transfer) from last time, I asked for my supervisor’s help. I had to be at the city office, which has a bank branch, at 2:30 p.m. because the banks close at 3 p.m. in case I needed a bank worker’s help. My supervisor entered all the requisite information into the ATM. I thanked her for her help and her cheerful reply was, “That was easy!” I think she had mentally prepared herself for a much more arduous task from me.
After I came home, I passed by the small taxi stand in front of my train station near my apartment. I heard one of the taxi drivers making nonsensical noises and looking downward. I figured a leashless dog had wandered into the area. Then I saw it was a CHICKEN and was like AAAIEEEEEEEE because has the guy not HEARD of the chicken flu scare here in Japan?
I scurried home and watched from the safety of my third-story window. The taxi driver was feeding the chicken. Maybe he was lonely. If it were any other animal — even a MONKEY — it would have been okay, but a chicken? The Hyogo and Kyoto-ken governments have been slaughtering chickens by the thousands because of avian flu. I shook my head.
Friday, March 5, 2004 — More avian influenza
From today’s Daily Yomiuri: “The (Kyoto) prefectural government demanded the farm slaughter all chickens bred at the farm and suggested they bury the carcasses in a nearby prefectural park.”
Yes. Because that will keep the public safe.
Saturday-Sunday, March 6-7, 2004 — AJET Musical
This was my weekend: Woke up, went to musical rehearsal in Ishii, three train stops west. Performed musical. Went to eat with castmates. Got home at 10:30 p.m. Went to sleep. Woke up. Went to musical performance in Mikamo, 11 train stops west, by catching the train at 9 a.m. and arriving at 11 a.m. Performed musical. Got home at 6 p.m.
Did I mention it snowed BOTH DAYS? And it’s MARCH?!
Monday, March 8, 2004 — Tidbits
Here are some random pictures of my life in Japan.
Wednesday, March 10, 2004 — Today was a good day.
Man, I almost got hit by no less than three cars and run into by two cyclists today. That I got by without a scrape — just an arrhythmic heart — makes it a good day. Tokushima drivers are TERRIBLE.
In the mornings, in the space between the teachers’ meetings and first period, I read the newspaper. I bring my copy of The Daily Yomiuri with me to school and I sit at my desk and read it with a pink highlighter in hand. When I come across something that I find interesting or funny or insightful, I highlight it. Sometimes I see glaring errors, which I occasionally highlight too. The school nurse sits at the desk next to mine. I see her watching me out of the corner of her eye, wondering what the heck I’m doing.
Thursday, March 11, 2004 — Graduation rehearsal
When I was in high school, the way the seniors got ready for graduation was mainly to go to the gym and figure out which row you’d be sitting in and who was sitting to your left and right. That was in a graduation class of 680. Rehearsal lasted about 25 minutes.
There are about 225 third-year students graduating from Kokufu. Today’s rehearsal lasted a good two hours. They practiced entering the gym, exiting the gym, standing (KIRITSU!”), sitting (“CHAKU SEKI!”), bowing (“REI!”), singing, replying and turning. It was crazy. The teachers were like, “No, no, no! You’re doing it wrong! Bow like THIS,” and then they’d count off, “ONE! TWO! THREE!” The kids were expected to hold the bow for two counts before coming up.
One of my friends later told me his students had to practice simply saying, “HAI!” when their name was called. Teachers didn’t want the students’ replies to be too long, short, soft or loud.
I had to refrain from snickering when I found the exit music for the third-years was, “My Way.”
Friday, March 12, 2004 — Graduation
I didn’t think I’d be sad for the graduation because I’d only seen the third-graders at Kokufu three times throughout the year. I see the first- and second-graders much more often. But then I realized one of my favorite students, Iguchi-kun, was graduating. He’s the long third-grader in my special ed class. He’s so thoughtful and friendly, always asking me questions or telling me about his day and helping me out when I didn’t know what the heck was going on. So I got a little teary-eyed when I saw him walk into the gym. I’m gonna miss him. He’s a good kid with a good heart.
Graduation is a solemn affair. Lots of standing up, bowing and sitting down. The only clapping that takes place is at the beginning and ending of the ceremony. The five third-grade homeroom teachers read their students’ names aloud. The students replied with a big, “HAI!” and stood up. Then one student went up and accepted their diplomas for them. They wore their school uniforms with flowers pinned to the front. Two students, a second-grader and third-grader, made speeches. Some education officials made speeches. I think they were education officials, at least. I had no idea who they were.
As the students filed out of the gym, I saw some of the girls’ faces were read from crying. It kind of hit me how these students will never be together en masse again. They’re all going to different high schools and different classrooms. I would be sad, too. I was sad.
The teachers returned to the teachers’ room for a while but about an hour later we went outside to applaud as the third-graders made their final, official exit from the campus. The brass band played as the classes walked away. It was mainly symbolic. Then proud parents and doting younger students rushed the third-graders bearing gifts and flowers.
I was feeling pretty useless by then and returned to the teacher’s room with a fellow English teacher. Some of the third-graders came in to say their last goodbyes. Some boys asked me to sign their yearbook. I didn’t even know their names so tried my best not to write a lame message and work around the face that I didn’t know who they were. Another student stuck his cell phone into my face and said, “Video,” and began recording. I was at a loss for Japanese words. I finally said, “Good luck in high school,” although I might have said the equivalent of “Good luck to high school.” One boy gave me a gift and another girl gave me a letter.
With the girl, Saori, I felt so inadequate because I wanted to tell her thank you for being so kind to me while I was here. She always said hello to me when she came into the teachers’ room. But both of us didn’t know the words to fully express what we wanted to say each others’ language. I wanted to hug her but hadn’t seen any one else hugging and figured that’d be a gross breach of protocol. We exchanged a few tentative words and Saori left with I felt was a slightly disappointed expression on her face. It was all very depressing.
Sunday, March 13, 2004 — McDonald’s
I ate at a McDonald’s today for the second time since coming to Japan. The first time was last week, also because of rehearsing for the musical. Last time I’d been pretty nervous and when the lady asked in Japanese whether I wanted my meal for there or to go, my response was rather incoherent. It took her a while to figure out what I was trying to say. This time I went hoping it would go better.
I ordered a cheeseburger combo for me and two cheeseburgers for a friend back at the Matsushige performance hall, where we were rehearsing for our performance later that night. So far, so good. The lady at the cash register went over my order but some words I didn’t understand, so I just repeated my order to be sure. She nodded in agreement. There was a pause that stretched out while she waited to see if I wanted anything else. But I didn’t know how to say, “That’s all.” So I just said what my kids mutter to themselves when I finish interview and reading tests with them: “Owata.”
That means, “I’m DONE, yo.”
Okay, “I’m finished.”
The lady at the counter smiled, but understood what I meant. Whoo. Mission accomplished.
Tuesday, March 15, 2004 — Sports stars
After the somewhat disheartening encounter with all the third-graders on Friday, things got a little better today. First-graders always cheer me up. Some boys saw me reading the newspaper and got excited when they saw the sports section.
One of the boys in particular was an avid NBA fan and even told me he wanted to be an NBA player. Lebron James and Allan Iverson appear to be frequent favorites. That got us talking, me and the cluster of boys. It makes me so happy to see them try to use their English and help each other out when they don’t know how to say something. We talked about simple things like what sports they liked and what players were their favorite and what they’d eaten for breakfast — but any conversation is good conversation.
Thursday, March 18, 2004 — Blunder
Since it’s the last full week of school, it’s been unbearably slow. I haven’t had a class in a week and this week, I’ll only have one class altogether. So I’ve been bringing a book to read at school when I’m not studying Japanese or doing stuff on my laptop. I’m reading Lonesome Dove, finally.
One of my teachers asked me what I was reading. I told him, “Er… a cowboy story.” He asked me something about time, but I wasn’t sure if he wanted to know when the story was set or when the story was written. So I just picked when it was written. I checked the front of the book, which said it was copyrighted in 1984. I answered, “go-ju nen mae,” intending to say it was from 15 years ago. Then I redid the math (that pesky arithmetic again) and realized it was more like 20 years ago.
Then I realized I’d actually said 50 years ago rather than 15. And by then, the teacher had walked away. D'oh.
Saturday-Sunday, March 20-21, 2004 — Crazy Town
At long last, the end of the musical has come. I didn’t have to be in Wakimachi, our final performance place, until 1 p.m., so I used the morning to call friends and family at home. I caught the 12:03 p.m. train from the station and began heading toward Wakimachi, which the JETs fondly refer to as simply “Waki” or “Crazy Town.”
Anne Marie, one of the crew members, boarded the train two three stops later. She didn’t see me so I scooted down to her side of the car. But as I approached Anne Marie, the young woman sitting near her looked at me and waved like she recognized me. I have this problem with my students — sometimes I have no idea if a kid I see is at my school, so I smile and wave anyway. But this was a young mom with a 4-year-old son crawling all over her.
Nevertheless, I sat down between her and Anne Marie and we started to chat. She seemed to know I was an ALT. She asked where I was going. I told her I was going to Wakimachi for the ALT musical. She was going west, too, though not as far, to a small amusement park to meet with some friends. The whole time I was racking my brain trying to figure out who she was and how she knew me. She knew I taught at Kokufu and even that I had been a journalist. Whatever the case, it was cool to be able to have a relaxed conversation with her. She was really patient with me while I tried to figured out to say something, which I appreciated. It’s nice to be able to talk to people.
Our train pulled into Anabuki Station just after 1 p.m. Anne Marie and I caught a ride with some friends who had met us at the station. Wakimachi is across the river from Anabuki and doesn’t have a train station.
The performance hall in Wakimachi was enchanting. It seemed to be made entirely out of wood, including the seating area, which was basically a ground floor and balcony devoid of seats. There were cushions for people to pull out and sit on the floor. The set-up was distinctly Shakespearean and reminded me of the theaters you see in Shakespeare in Love.
Rehearsal was a haphazard affair. One of our main actors, Karl, had disappeared. Karl’s apartment had caught fire just before the first performance. He had been in the shower and when he emerged, his kitchen was on fire. He doesn’t remember much about it. Apparently the firefighters broke into his apartment to pull him out and he wouldn’t leave. He burned his hand hanging on to his shower door. He also lost his voice temporarily but got it back just before opening night.
So Karl had to move to a new apartment. We weren’t really sure where he lived when he disappeared. To make matters worse, he had a bit of stomach flu and had already lost one meal that morning. But eventually Greg, who lives in the area, showed up and he and Brian went in search of Karl. It turned out during Karl’s brief check-in at the theater, someone had given him a flying motion sickness pill to settle his stomach. It worked, but it also conked him out when he went home to pick up some props. That’s where Brian and Greg found him before hauling a groggy Karl back to the theater. I do have to hand it to Karl for toughing the performance out, though.
In the mean time, two of our regular actors couldn’t make this show because of a prior engagement, so we had to quickly acclimate their understudies. That’s what spent rehearsal doing, as well as helping the new light and sound people get used to what they needed to do.
Greg had been trying to look more busty for his role as a Japanese schoolgirl. Anne Marie solved this by finding some “enhancements” at the 100-yen store. They were basically balloons that you stuck on your chest. But Greg looked too frightening with them on, so we discarded that idea. Johnny, who also had to dress up as a woman, used them instead for his costume.
The Wakimachi audience was wonderful. They filled the rafters and the floor. So many children! And lots of JETs, too, including some who had come quite a ways away in the prefecture, as well as some national AJET (the JET association) officers from Honshu. It was so gratifying to hear the crowd laugh and clap and react heartily to our jokes, visual and spoken.
Greg and Liz got the show started with their always-humorous opening dialogue. They come on dressed as Japanese schoolgirls and discuss the musical’s plotline in Japanese. Greg, who is in Anabuki, had a huge following in the audience and so when he talked about how cool and handsome the Anabuki ALT was, the crowd loved it.
It was awesome to hear the audience — mostly likely the ALTs — laugh at a joke early in the musical, when the character of Bruce is throwing his girlfriend out because she just wants him for her money. “You hate my cat!” Veronica, the girlfriend says. “Because she’s Canadian!” shouts Bruce. The cat, who soon gets run over, is played by Heather, who is, indeed Canadian. Later the joke was on Karl, who plays Bruce, when Angeline — as his potential new girlfriend Catherine — complains, “Bruce is so … American! It’s like he’s from Alabama or something!”
Angeline and Johnny, our new stand-ins, did brilliantly. We were all taken by surprise when Angeline came on for the scene where she dances by herself, though. The real music had been some up-tempo dance music but it’d been replaced that day with “Baby Got Back” by Sir Mix-A-Lot. Not even Angeline had expected that but she just rolled with it and did a great, hilarious job dancing.
Finally it came to an end. The cast said their thank-yous. Then the director, producer and choreographer got gifts. To my surprise, I got a gift, too! It was so sweet of them. Rich later told me, “We were able to get you a bigger box of cookies because you don’t drink alcohol!” The others had gotten a bottle of wine, too.
The audience rushed the stage to give Greg a forestload of flowers. I saw him later, curiously lacking any bouquets, and found out he pretty much given all the flowers away to the kids, which basically meant he was just shuffling his many flowers around amongst his admirers.
Afterward, I put away the props for the last time. It was a good feeling. Keeping track of them had been exhausting. We cleaned up and headed out to Miyoshi, to the same bungalows we’d used for the Burns Supper, for the after party. There, we played the card game Mao (which I will never be able to think of without thinking of, “All hair Chairman Mao!” because of my sister), talked and hung out. I was really tired — the moment the musical had ended, it was if my body came crashing down — and finally went to sleep at 1 a.m. I hear their was quite the interesting game of spin the bottle played much later than night.
The next morning, I went for an onsen. I went to the outside bath hoping it wouldn’t scald me. A lady in the pool of water next to me easing myself very, very slowly in. “It’s hot?” she asked. “A little hot,” I said. She came and checked the temperature for me and the water that was pouring into the pool. “This water isn’t hot,” she said. I thought it was funny just because she didn’t realize I wasn’t Japanese and was saying all this other stuff I didn’t understand. But by then I was able to get into the water and told her I was okay.
I got a ride with Heather back home. Watched some TV, some Friends and ER. Ran some errands, bought some humidity boxes and developed some pictures. Ahhh. To have my weekends back again … that’s a nice feeling.
Tuesday, March 23, 2004 — Baikingu
The Kokufu staff enkai — drinking party — is this Wednesday, the last day of school. I have yet to go to a school enkai but finally figured I should go to one because I’m told they’re part of the JET experience as well as a way to bond with your fellow teachers.
I inquired about it with my head English teacher to find out how much the all-you-can-eat-and-drink affair would cost. The answer: a whopping 8,500 yen. At this week’s exchange rate, that’s $80! That seems awfully pricey considering I won’t be drinking anything more intoxicating than oolong tea.
Nevertheless, I forked the money over with gritted teeth in the name of better getting to know my co-workers while they were in the throes of alcohol-induced friendliness.
In addition, today, the special education class went out to eat for lunch. We went to an all-you-can-eat place. In Japan, buffets are known as “baikingu,” which sounds like, “biking.” I’d heard the term before but hadn’t made the connection. It’d only confused me. What did cycling have to do with food? I still don’t get why buffets are called what they are here.
Anyways, at 11 a.m. we set off for the restaurant by bike. The weather was great; clear and cool. Nevertheless, I was dreading the ride. I must bike extra-slow on my own, because I can barely keep up with my middle school students. It was no different this time. If anything, it was worse because the distance was further than we’d ever gone before. What took us 25 minutes probably would have taken me 40 minutes at my own pace.
As I huffed and puffed, trying to narrow the gap between me and the student in front of me, I thought incredulously to myself, “Man, I can’t believe I even contemplated joining the ALT rugby team!” AJET, the national JET association, is organizing a JET-wide rugby contest and Tokushima-ken JETs are putting together a team. They asked me to join the team — they are in need of more female players — but I declined, knowing my woeful lack of stamina. However, I did tell a friend of mine who joined to let me know how the workouts were in case she found them manageable.
I’m not going to join the rugby team. They won’t ask me again, if they know what’s good for them!
Finally we got to the restaurant. We waited outside for the Kamona special education class to show. During that time, I gave Iguchi his graduation present, a small album of pictures I’d taken of the class throughout the year. I gave the class’ teacher, Ogasawara-sensei, a matching album of pictures. I wish I could have said more to Iguchi, that I’d really appreciated his kindness and his willingness to chat. But it was pretty much limited to him saying thank you several times for the album and me saying it was my pleasure.
The Kamona class wasn’t showing up and told us by cell phone to go in ahead of them. We went inside, threw our stuff in some booths and began to gather our food. It was interesting to see what kind of food a Japanese buffet place has. There was a big section full of different types of raw meat and vegetables because each table comes equipped with a grill where you can cook you own food. There was a sushi bar as well as a section with different kinds of soup and noodles. The desserts available included ice cream, frozen yogurt, cream puffs, cake, flan, Jell-O and even cotton candy.
I stuck to some pilaf-y rice, pasta, dumplings and sweet potatoes. The sweet potatoes are actually normal potatoes dipped in this thick, sweet syrup. For dessert I had some overly sweet flan and self-made cotton candy.
I proceeded to watch my students pretty much eat their own weight’s worth in food. It was both fascinating and slightly frightening. Seriously, I watched the smallest boy in the class grimacing because he was so full. He couldn’t even sit up straight; he had to sit and stand at an angle to ease his aching belly. Then I watched him go get MORE food. The girl who sat next to me brought back at least four different things to eat for dessert alone. Then she saw something her teacher was eating and decided she wanted to eat that, too.
The kids continued eating a good 30-45 minutes after I got full and stopped eating.
We were joined by two former students of the class who had just finished high school. The Kamona students also came, too, eventually. We finished ahead of them and paid our bill, which was about $9.50 for all you can eat. Ogasawara-sensei informed we were now going to go check out the new apartment the two former students were going to live in when they started their new jobs.
I don’t think the teachers realized how far away the students lived. We just kept biking and biking — the students seemed to be unaffected by the mass quantities of food they had consumed — until we’d gone two towns over, which means I biked three towns away from my home. Crazy. The former students took this crazy route that involved some backtracking but finally we arrived at their new digs.
I was envious. The apartments were brand-new and let in a lot of natural light. The floors were all wood. There were even two bathrooms.
Then we biked back to the school. I think school was over for them the closer we got to campus, the more students peeled off from the group to go home instead. This was all very confusing to me because I nearly followed many of them to their homes, not realizing was going on.
Wednesday, March 24, 2004 — The wonders of alcohol
Today was the big day: The Kokufu Junior High School end-of-year banquet for the staff. The drinking party. Me. Interacting with the staff. I was terrified out of my mind.
But first I would have to get through the school day.
It was already a weird day to begin with. I had nothing to do and had brought my laptop with me to keep me occupied. As lunch approached, the scent of what I swear was Mexican food drifted toward my desk from the break room. I knew it couldn’t be Mexican food, and of course it turned out not to be Mexican food, but that didn’t stop me from craning my head repeatedly and wistfully in the direction of the break room wondering when the Mexican food would get here. Visions of tacos and tortillas danced in my head. But it was not to be.
Then I realized that today was one of those days where there was no school lunch. Of course, no one had informed me of this until just before lunch. I had no money on me, so I just shrugged it off and said I’d wait until the end of the school day and get a bite to eat before the enkai later than evening.
Kitajima-sensei looked shocked and a bit remorseful that I would actually not have a meal and she came to my desk bearing an armload of sweets. It was touching. Then she arranged for me to go with the third-grade teachers, who all were going out to eat lunch — all, except the third-grade English teacher. I could feel my muscles clutching up at the very idea of being upon the teachers, none of whom spoke much English. I feel so awkward and ungainly and ignorant when in the presence of Japanese people who speak little to no English.
I tried to explain that I had no money on me, but the teachers brushed it aside and told me it wasn’t a problem. I piled into one of the teachers’ cars, my heart tripping an unsteady beat. We went to an udon noodle place. The teachers divided up into two tables’ worth. As we made ourselves comfortable on the tatami floor, they asked me if I liked udon. This was instance where I shouldn’t have answered as honestly as I did. I answered, “So-so,” in Japanese. D’oh! I felt immediately afterward that was a major gaffe, that it made me seem ungrateful. Sigh. I get asked all the time what kind of Japanese food I like and I’m used to answering, “I like this, I don’t like this,” etc., that it didn’t occur to me to censor myself — I don’t particularly like udon at all — so the closest to softening the blow I came was just replying with a noncommittal, “So-so.” Brilliant.
Lunch was an excruciating affair of silence on my part and Japanese chatter on the teachers’ part. They tried to talk with me, they really did, and I appreciated the effort, but my Japanese was just too pathetic to lend itself to such situations. When it was time to go, I let out a relieved breath.
Around 3 p.m., Kitajima-sensei came up and told me the principal had said that morning teachers would leave early in the afternoon. “But if you get into an accident, please use (paid leave),” she added. It was a pleasant surprise to be able to leave early and an amusing caveat to have to use nenkyu, paid leave, if I happened to get plowed into by a car on the way home. That’s one of the reasons why ALTs aren’t allowed to leave the school during the school day — if they get into an accident during school hours, it will always be considered work-related.
I had intended on simply taking a bus down to Tokushima Station and searching for the nearby Awa Kanko Hotel, where the Kokufu enkai would take place, on my own. But one of the second-grade teachers, Yamaguchi-sensei, kindly offered me a ride. I realized I wasn’t so sure where the Awa Kanko Hotel was located, so it’d be safer to go with someone who knew where they were going. Yamaguchi-sensei — actually her husband — picked me up at just past 6 p.m., along with three other teachers.
The Awa Kanko Hotel turned out not to be where I’d expected it, so it was good that I went with the other. In addition to that, to my horror, I discovered that Kamona Junior High School’s enkai was not only taking place that same night at the same time, but it was in the room right next to us! Would the Kamona teachers think I had snubbed them? I hadn’t even known that Kamona was having an enkai that night — I had been told of a different banquet that had happened on a musical night, so I hadn’t been able to go! But of course, all was well. Miyata-sensei, one of Kamona’s first-grade English teachers, greeted me cheerfully from the reception table she was manning.
The Kokufu enkai started right on time. At 6:30 p.m., they closed the room doors and the speeches began. It was both an end-of-year party and a farewell party. At the end of every school year, the prefectural board of education shakes things up by moving teachers around. New teachers are typically allowed to stay at a school in Tokushima City for three years before they’re assigned to outlying schools, particularly in the mountains where teachers are scarce. They stay there for three more years before they can return to a campus in Tokushima City.
Of course, the three-year limit is quite fluid and some teachers ending up staying at their campuses for much longer than that. Kitajima-sensei, for example, had been at Kokufu for seven years. She had been notified that she would be moved to Ishii Junior High School just down the way from Kokufu. Okumura-sensei, one of the two teachers for the special ed class, was going to a school on the far side of the Tokushima City. Hatada-sensei, Kokufu’s principal, was retiring. I was pretty internally distraught by all this, even though I’d seen it coming. Kitajima-sensei was the lone English teacher who actually chatted with me from time to time. Hatada-sensei, who spoke excellent English, also had kept me company at Kokufu. I ate lunch every day sitting next to Okumura-sensei. I was so sad to see them go.
At the enkai, the teachers who were leaving sat at the head of the room. Each was given a bouquet of flowers from one of the remaining teachers. The presenter also read aloud student letters addressed to each departing instructor. Finally, the principal gave a speech. He ended it with a brief switch into English to thank me for coming. It was a little agonizing to feel people’s gazes on me but thoughtful of the principal to include me in his talk.
Then the food and alcohol started to flow. I really do like most Japanese food, but this stuff was too unrecognizable for me to feel comfortable eating it. I seriously couldn’t identify most of the dishes they brought out. I ate about half my meal, which had cost a whopping $85, including all the alcohol you could drink. I settled for oolong tea instead and told myself the hefty price was all in the name of bonding with my fellow co-workers.
Custom dictates that during an enkai you go around pouring drinks for the other guests and chatting with them. You never pour your own drink. As my options were limited, I finally worked up enough courage to approach Okumura-sensei and top off her beer glass. I told her I was going to miss her and had enjoyed working with her. She has been such a nice, patient person with me. Then I fled back to my chair. I was lucky though, because I’d ended up sitting next to Noda-sensei, the second-grade science teacher. His English isn’t that great but he’s one of those older teachers with a good sense of humor. And, like the other teachers, I found his English increased exponentially in direct correlation to the amount of alcohol he drank.
Noda-sensei can hold his liquor and told me all about how he’d hurt his food. Apparently he’d drunk so much alcohol in the past five days that it somehow had led to some pretty bad pain in his left food. But he’d gone to the pharmacist for some medication and, well, he was feeling no pain. He put a beer bottle in my hand and sent me on my way back to the front with instructions on what to say to the principal and Kitajima-sensei. Both teachers were busy talking to others but they graciously drank their beer to let me refill their glass and made time to talk to me.
I spent most of the dinner at my chair talking with Noda-sensei and Sogawa-sensei, a man I don’t think I’d ever met before until that night. Apparently he was the school counselor. I’d never seen him before, so I don’t know how regular of a counselor he was for the Kokufu students. Maybe he had an office secreted away that I didn’t know about. To my surprise, I found myself actually enjoying myself. Now that I had done the requisite beer-pouring, the edge of terror and panic was starting to wear off.
It was fascinating see the change come over my fellow teachers as they imbibed more beer. Nomoto-sensei, the serious young Math teacher who sits across from me, grew more and more red-faced as the evening progressed. By banquet’s end, he was staggering around and needed to be aided by two other teachers. He kept on saying, “I’m okay. I’m okay,” in Japanese. It was the most relaxed I had ever, EVER seen him. Hatada-sensei, the principal, was extraordinarily cheery and a little red-faced himself. Enkais are so surreal.
But an enkai isn’t just the dinner, it’s a three-part event!
Part II involved the teachers going to a karaoke place. We filed outside the hotel to catch a taxi. Nomoto-sensei was staggering around while the other male teachers were chain smoking and keeping on eye on him to make sure he didn’t stagger into traffic. “I’m drunk,” he said to me. “I’m sorry.” The women were a little more giggly than usual. Some of the Kamona teachers came out and two male teachers even said hello to me in English, which to me meant they’d had a little something to drink as well if they were relaxed enough to greet me in my own language.
We grabbed a taxi to Sakaemachi, Tokushima’s nighttime district. It an incredibly busy time to be going there because I’m sure all the other schools were having their end-of-year enkais as well. I saw one of my fellow ALTs with his school stuff on the way to the karaoke place. There, I ate some sort of snack made of egg plant and drank more tea. The smoke-filled air was a little stifling. I was glad that enkais didn’t happen often; I don’t think I’d survive the second-hand smoke.
The first teacher to sing made all of our jaws drop. I don’t even know his name, he keeps to himself that much. But man, when he sings, he goes ALL out. It was amazing! We gave him a rousing ovation. It was so hilarious watching the other teachers, especially the male teachers, give karaoke a go. Nomoto-sensei managed to hit some unnaturally high notes, which totally cracked me up.
As for me, the teachers wanted me to sing a song in English. I wanted to go a Carpenters’ song, but the machine didn’t have “They Long to be Close to You,” nor “Rainy Days and Mondays” — a fact I still can’t believe, they’re classics! — so I settled on the Beatles’ “Yesterday.” The teachers loved that and sang along with me; they knew the words even better than I did.
Finally, the enkai had to come to an end for me. Yamaguchi-sensei’s husband came to pick us up at about 11:30 p.m. The male teachers, I know, would go on to the third phase of the enkai, which is usually to a bar. I was content to take my leave at the end of the second phase. I had had a really good time getting to relax, pretty much for the first time, with the Kokufu teachers. It’d been worth the $85.
Thursday, March 25, 2004 — Waiting for Jacob
So my friend Jacob from back home is coming to visit for a week. My first guest from overseas! His flight came into Kansai International Airport in Osaka at 5 p.m. I had told him very explicitly, “Now, Jacob, you have to take a BUS to get to Tokushima from Osaka. You can’t get to Tokushima by train fro Osaka. You have to take A BUS.”
Jacob proved me wrong.
How silly of me! You CAN get to Tokushima from Osaka! But only if you’re willing to ride around on trains for EIGHT HOURS. This story is about how the Japan Rail pass for visiting tourists is a dangerous, dangerous thing.
The bus from Kansai to Tokushima takes nearly three hours. I expected Jacob to take the 6 p.m. bus and arrive here at about 9 p.m. I hopped a bus downtown. By 8:50 p.m., I was sitting in front of the platform where people get picked up by the airport bus. But just before 9 p.m. I realized that people dropped OFF by the airport bus are dropped off on the OTHER side of the Tokushima Station driveway. I grabbed my umbrella and started to scurry in that direction. On the way, I ran into Nomizu-san, one of the TOPIA staffers. She re-confirmed my suspicions that people are dropped off in different place than where they are picked up. But she soothed my worries that I’d missed Jacob’s arrival by pointing out it was raining and the bus probably would be a little late.
I wanted for an hour and a half — enough time for the NEXT airport bus to arrive — waiting for Jacob. By then, I had grown very, very agitated. I hoped the next train home to check my messages, hoping he’d left a message. No message. I had no way to contact him. I had no idea where he was! In my despair, I phoned up Sally for commiseration. I knew she wouldn’t be able to do anything but I needed someone to with which to share my anxiety.
Finally I went to sleep at about 11:30 p.m. There was nothing else to do. I slept fitfully, dreaming of the phone ringing. Finally at about 12:30 p.m., the phone actually did ring. It was Jacob. He was at Tokushima Station. I told him to take a taxi to my train station.
When he arrived here at 1 a.m., he recounted his adventure. Did I mention it was Jacob’s first time outside the country? What a way to get introduced to international travel, I tell you.
Apparently, at the airport, he had very clearly asked the lady at the ticket counter for a bus ticket for Tokushima. “Bus” has pretty much the same pronunciation in Japanese and Jacob had no problem pronouncing “Tokushima,” so I don’t know what the problem was. Whatever the case, apparently the ticket-seller didn’t believe that Jacob REALLY wanted to go to Tokushima by bus and instead put him on a train bound for Toyama in the EXACT OPPOSITE DIRECTION of Tokushima. I had told him that his JR pass, which allows unlimited train rides except on very specific shinkansens, probably wouldn’t work for the bus ride to Tokushima. But it DID work on the train bound for Toyama as well as all the other trains, including numerous shinkansens — more than I’ll ever get to ride in my lifetime, I’m sure — on his very circuitous way to Tokushima.
By the time he got to Kyoto, Jacob figured something was up. He spent the next few hours wandering train stations in half the country asking, “Tokushima?” and getting pointed at the right train by the staff. Somehow he ended up in Hiroshima, then Okayama (where the Naked Man Festival took place) and then onto the island of Shikoku in Takamatsu and finally, Tokushima. He had tried calling me before arriving in Tokushima but the phones wouldn’t carry the long-distance phone call from Honshu, the main island, to Shikoku. He managed to jump on the very last train to Tokushima, a local train that stopped at all the 20-something stations in between. It was a very long final train ride.
He eased my stress by bearing with him boxes of Girl Scout cookies from my parents and bottles of lotion (remember my unfruitful quest for lotion in Japan?) from another Stateside friend.
Friday-Wednesday, March 26-31, 2004 — Jacob’s visit
Jacob pretty much left the planning of his trip to me. I just knew he wanted to go snowboarding. So this was the itinerary I put together for him: Go to Hiroshima Friday, return Saturday. Take an overnight bus Saturday night to Gifu, arrive Sunday morning and snowboard all day. Return that evening. Go to Kyoto Monday morning, stay until Tuesday evening. Spend the night in Osaka. See him off at the train station Wednesday morning.
The trip, aside from Jacob’s untimely arrival, went off without a hitch.
I made all the lodging arrangements ahead of time online. The hostel in Hiroshima was booked, so I got a reservation at Miyajimaguchi Hostel, just outside of Hiroshima. For our overnight Kyoto stay, I got a recommendation from Sally of a hostel near Kyoto Station. And for the night before Jacob left, I made arrangements at a hostel in Osaka at, of all places, an athletic stadium. It was such a relief to know that lodging was taken care of ahead of time.
Friday morning, we headed back to Tokushima Station, where I bought round-trip train ticket to Hiroshima. Because the ticket included a shinkansen ride, it was pretty pricey. It turned out to be my biggest single expense for the week. While we waited for our train to arrive, we decided to grab some food for breakfast at one of the station stands. I recommended onigiri, rice balls, to Jacob. I grabbed two with mayo and tuna inside. Jacob was a bit more adventurous and grabbed some other ones.
We took an express train to Okayama, where we boarded a shinkansen (my first!) to Hiroshima. A streetcar later, we found ourselves in front of the A-Bomb Dome and the Peace Park. I’m sure there are plenty of things to do in Hiroshima but this was the main reason why I had come.
After the Peace Park, we wandered over to a nearby shopping arcade and ate at a bakery. From there, we walked to Hiroshima Castle before wandering around some more near the station. Finally we caught a train to Miyajimaguchi to check into the hostel.
In Miyajimaguchi, I wasn’t sure exactly where the hostel would be located. We ended up walking completely past it and I had to ask for directions from a grandmother and her two granddaughters. Thank goodness I had the address printed out in Japanese. The grandmother told me all of this stuff but mostly what I got from it was that we’d walked too far. We retraced our steps back about halfway, where I asked a young woman for directions again. She was so kind — she was like, “I’ll walk with you to the hostel!”
The hostel was pretty basic but served its purpose. The bunk beds’ sturdiness made me somewhat leery, but aside from the questionable hole in the ceiling made, most likely, but some unfortunate tall person who had to take a top bunk, the beds also were fine.
I discovered that evening that my train ticket was for the wrong time. The ticket-seller had asked me when I’d wanted to leave Hiroshima, not when I’d wanted to arrive in Tokushima. When I’d said I’d wanted to arrive in Tokushima around 6 or 7 p.m., she’d selected a return train for me that left Hiroshima at 7 :30 p.m. I wouldn’t get back to Tokushima until 11 p.m., and our overnight bus left at 10 p.m.! That wasn’t gonna fly, so I knew I’d have to change tickets the next morning.
This was regrettable, as I hear there’s a really famous shrine on Miyajima, the island across the way from Miyajimaguchi. Ah well, there’s always next time. So Saturday morning, rather than linger over Miyajima’s scenery, Jacob and I returned to Hiroshima station to switch my ticket. I was so proud of myself for doing this in Japanese, though! It was my first time to ask to exchange something. The ticket guy was able to switch me around to a 10 a.m. train without having to charge me anything extra. I love Japan.
However, once Jacob and I boarded the train at Hiroshima Station, we realized I’d ended up getting the one shinkansen his JR Pass wouldn’t allow him to use! I thought we’d be able to get away with it and that he should just stay on the train, but it was good Jacob was rule-abiding — the second train I rode was full. Jacob, being the train-riding expert that he was, got off the train in Hiroshima and just said he’d meet me in Tokushima.
I got into Tokushima around 1 p.m. and Jacob, soon after. We returned to Tokushima Station for a lunch of curry and rice. Then we hiked up Mt. Bizan, the resident mountain. Compared to Mt. Tsurugi, Bizan was a breeze. (There are those who would say Mt. Tsurugi was a breeze, too, and to those preternaturally healthy people, I say, “PAH!”) We got to the top, which was rather anticlimactic, and then hurried down back to the station so I could buy bus tickets to Osaka for later than week.
That night, my friend and fellow English teacher Kiyomi picked us up at 9:30 p.m. and brought us to the bus. Her younger brother, Hiro, is a frequent snowboarder and he’d organized a bus to Gifu — a ski resort place like Nagano, but a little closer — with some of his friends. Kiyomi had invited Jacob and me to go, too.
The bus departed at 11 p.m. Immediately Hiro and his friends lit up cigarettes. Everyone smokes in Japan it seems. I took off my jacket, draped it in front of me like a blanket, and pulled it over my head to keep out the light and cigarette smoke. I was sitting up front but the bus driver, who was this ancient, white-haired man, must have thought I was part of the luggage because he thought I was missing during one of his head counts. Kiyomi corrected him. Another time, at one of the many rest stops the driver made throughout the night, he almost left Hiro behind.
I don’t know when we arrived in Gifu but I know I must have been sleeping pretty soundly (surprisingly, considering overnight buses are not the most comfortable places to sleep) because I hadn’t felt us go up the mountains at all. I think we pulled into the ski resort about 5 a.m. We started to stir around 6:30 a.m. After 7 a.m., Kiyomi, Hiro’s friend Asuka and I went into the women’s locker room to get changed. I told Jacob to stay put and I’d return to get him sorted out.
When I came to the bus some time later, Jacob had disappeared. Hiro had been really thoughtful and brought Jacob with him to get him properly outfitted for snowboarding. Jacob ended up getting the largest snowboarding gear they had available. Kiyomi and I rented our boards and then went to check about snowboarding school.
Since my snowboarding skills left much to be desired, I figured I’d just take a lesson with Jacob, who had never before seen packed snow (yet another inexplicable first for him). Kiyomi asked if any of the instructors spoke English. It had been a doubtful hope to begin with; just looking around you could tell this ski resort was populated by Japanese people and few, if any, foreigners. None of the instructors spoke English. So Kiyomi, kind person she is, asked if she could tag along in a lesson to act as interpreter. The staff said no problem.
A short while later, the three of us plus a young girl in our class met our instructor, a genial man named Tsuzuki. We went to the top of the beginner slope and started practicing. Kiyomi even got a free lesson out of it from Tsuzuki. I was determined to learn how to turn, no surprise. But Jacob wouldn’t be so lucky. I knew he’d had problems with his shoulder before — it’d be dislocated several times — but hadn’t realize it’d be an issue on the mountain. It ended up dislocating. He put it back (yeah, I know!) in place but decided maybe snowboarding wasn’t for him.
After the lesson ended, he hung out the base of the mountain while Kiyomi and I snowboarded. He seemed to get a kick just out of hanging around Japanese people, who would occasionally bring him some coffee to drink. Even Tsuzuki chatted with him, took a picture with him, and traded e-mail addresses with Jacob. I, on the other hand, was pleased to find that I could finally, miracle of miracles, turn while on my snowboard! I am proud to say I even went on an intermediate slope!
But the day finally had to come to an end. I was sorrowful I wouldn’t be able to snowboard until next winter but at least I have an idea about what the heck I’m supposed to be doing when strapped into the board now. The bus got us back to Tokushima at about 11 p.m.
The next morning the plan had been to catch an 8 a.m. bus to Osaka, where we’d catch a train to Kyoto. But once we arrived at Tokushima Station, Jacob said he’d forgotten his passport in my apartment. We weren’t going to be returning, so I exchanged the bus tickets for a later time (another exchange! Go me!) and we scurried back to my apartment. Of course, upon getting back, we found out Jacob hadn’t forgotten his passport — it was packed in his luggage — but he had forgotten his necklace, so it wasn’t for naught.
The bus to Osaka took longer than I’d expected. When traffic is bad in Japan, it’s awful. At Osaka Station, we caught a 45-minute local train to Kyoto. All this traveling around the main island had made me realize that Tokushima really is in the sticks. We are seriously inaka, out in the countryside. Once you’re on the main island, if you’re not in the suburbs, you’re in the city.
I should have mentally prepared, but I wasn’t, for the sheer number of foreigners in Kyoto. It really is a tourist city. Deservingly so, though. It’s a beautiful place. And we’d come at the perfect time: Spring, when the cherry blossoms were blooming.
Jacob was anxious to get as far away from Kyoto Station as possible when we arrived. He didn’t like being around other foreigners and tourists. But there was a Café Du Monde at the station and it was just unacceptable that I let such an opportunity pass me by without getting beignets. I hadn’t had beignets in nearly a year. Yum. Beigneeeeets … After I downed six beignets and some chocolate milk, we went in search of real food and found it in a small café on the way to our hostel.
The Kyoto hostel was wonderful, quite luxurious after the spareness of the Miyajimaguchi hostel. It had just opened in November of last year. We dumped our stuff in a room with bunk beds that looked pleasingly well-made and began wandering the city.
Kyoto is like Hoi An in Vietnam — it’s regarded as an ancient city. But somehow our meanderings seemed to take us only to streets with modern architecture. We did happen upon a temple that described itself as the world’s largest wooden structure. It was located down the street from Kyoto Station and dated back to 1895, when it was rebuilt. We just walked and walked and walked.
The next morning I was set on setting out with a plan. We would use the station as our home base and take the buses out to different famous landmarks. First on the agenda: Nijo-jo, a castle with nightingale floors. Nightingale floors are the coolest thing ever! When nobles didn’t want people sneaking up on them, they created these floors that make bird-like noises when you tread on them. Jacob made the astute observation: Leave it to the Japanese to create a security mechanism that was pleasing to the ear.
Next, we went to Ginkakuji temple. It was located down the way on the avenue lined with blossoming cherry blossoms. The scene was gorgeous. It had rained all day but somehow, the rain enhanced the beauty of the flowers, I think. The striking thing about cherry blossoms is that the trees have no greenery on them, no leaves — just pale pink blossom that last for a week or so. Their fleetingness is what makes sakura, cherry blossoms, so revered in Japanese culture. I’d always wanted to go to Washington, D.C., and see the sakura in the spring — here I was, doing it in the land where those trees had originated!
The rain discouraged us from slogging through the water to do more sightseeing, so we got our stuff and caught the next train back to Osaka. Osaka Station was a nightmare, densely packed with people. If Osaka was your first experience with Japanese train stations, I can imagine you turning around and running the other way. But I do have to say, after getting used to using train stations with little to no English, it was a pleasant surprise to find the stations on the “mainland” used both English and Japanese in their signs! Maneuvering the train stations on Honshu were a piece of cake compared to Tokushima-ken.
From Osaka Station, we took a minor line to an outlying station called Tsurugaoka. There was a Osaka Nagai Youth Hostel there, located in this giant athletic stadium complex. It, too, was a nice place to stay. Jacob and I threw our stuff in our rooms and went wandering.
The first place we came upon was this peculiar café that was half pet-shop (no pets, just stuff for pets) and half café. It was really warmly lit inside, which was enough to catch my attention, but when we walked by the door I saw these big DOGS inside and was like, “WE HAVE TO GO IN!!” The owner apparently had several Japan Kennel Club champion show dogs, including a chocolate lab and golden lab. They were darling. Jacob was extremely pleased to find the café served bagels and lox, which we ate with milk tea.
Then we went walking. Eventually we came upon a grocery store, where Jacob got himself some edible souvenirs for friend and family. He had wanted to get something really gross specifically for a friend of his, so I recommended natto, the slimy, fermented bean curd I’d mentioned before. Unfortunately, we discovered natto needs to be refrigerated, so Jacob passed up on it. :-(
Back at the hostel, I found my roommates were a Japanese girl and Austrian girl. But I could have sworn they were speaking Spanish with each other! Turns out they’d met at some sort of international exchange in Costa Rica. I wanted to speak Spanish with them, too, but figured that would be overstepping my bounds. Besides, the Austrian girl had just flown in and looked both tired and not entirely interested in conversation. I climbed into my bed, pulled the curtain closed (that was so cool — curtains!), read a little John Irving (The Hotel New Hampshire? Anyone? Anyone?), and went to sleep.
The next morning, Jacob and I returned to the train station and bid each other adieu. I invited him back for sumo season. In Osaka, I caught a bus back to Tokushima Station. I napped on the bus, replete with the knowledge that I’d done it: I’d traveled Japan, and I’d been the one in charge. I’d made lodging reservations, managed to figure out which trains and buses to use and even spoken a few words of Japanese in the process! After having gotten increasingly frustrated with the isolation I’d felt at school, this was a great feeling. I can’t wait for my family to come visit!