Adventures in Japan no. 32

I was in love with the exotic and excitement of Japan when I first came here. The terrifying unknown. A world beyond that which I know.

I've been forced to make a decision -- I must either leave Japan or leave my husband. I never thought things would come to this, but they have. Leaving everyone and everything you know to interact in a country where men have all the power, communism still prevails, and English is non-existent must be met with an extreme desire to be there. I never had that.

I've been unhappy for so long and never knew why. Japan has brought it all into the open – and with mixed emotions I will be leaving in the first half of the year.

My writings will soon come to a close. My adventures have been had.

Le Japon aura toujours un endroit spécial à mon coeur. Mais il est temps de dire au revoir.

Adventures in Japan no. 31

I awoke with a start. It was 3am. There was a loud explosion from outside and the house shook and swayed. Immediately my mind lead me to believe we had just been bombed by North Korea.

It lasted for 3 seconds then was gone. The neighborhood was quiet. There were no dogs barking – did I just imagine it?

My startled husband ran into the room in a panic. “What was that?”, he asked. “Did Daisen erupt?”, I casually asked about the dormant mountain 10 minutes away.

After living in Japan for 16 months I've finally felt my first ubiquitous Japanese earthquake.

16 percent of the world's earthquakes take place in Japan. They're as common as anime and mullets, and almost as scary.

Adventures in Japan no. 30

We discovered a mouse in our house the other day. On top of all the other critters that share our old Japanese house with us, we have a mouse.

We put out poison (“the favorite flavor of mice” according to our manager) and named it Henry. Now whenever we need to refer to it we can say things like:

“I saw Henry in the kitchen tonight”

“Henry ate a box of dry lasagna noodles”

“Henry's dead”

It makes it sound less like we have a rodent and more like there's just an unwelcome visitor. Our school's owner reassured me that mice don't eat people (don't they?) and doesn't think a mouse is cause for moving. Hopefully Henry won't overstay his welcome.

Adventures in Japan no. 29

“Hey, how are 'ya?”, he said like he's known me for years. “Do you play any instruments or sing?”, he asks me. “No, do you?”, I respond. We instantly struck up a conversation, not because we knew each other, but because we are two foreigners in Japan that happened to cross paths.

He'd come to the coffee shop to play, but the rest of his band didn't show up, so he was hanging around and chatting it up with the waitress.

As I was waiting for my coffee I learned more about this stranger then I know about many of my own friends – his wife is Japanese and he's been here for ages – doesn't get out much.

After a nice conversation with a friendly American man in Japan, and my coffee in hand, I set out ready to take on the rest of the night.

Adventures in Japan no. 28 (adult)

Cassandra and I were on a mission. With men being Japan's sexual center, we wondered if there was any place in this city we could find something to pleasure women – a vibrator.

She remembered seeing a video store by the sea that could have had ulterior motives, so we drove in that direction.

As soon as we walked in I knew we wouldn't find anything in there for us. This was man's land - the world of explicit sex – and it didn't belong to women.

We casually walked in, confident and secure. The well-lit front room seemed innocent enough – a Tom Hanks film, some comics. Casually displayed up front with comics were photos of young girls in bathing suits, their ages printed in the bottom corner – 8,9, 10 years old.

We decided we needed to take a full lap around the store, venturing behind the 18+ curtain. The tall shelves of videos provided a safe sanctuary for middle-aged men to hide out amongst their fetishes. As soon as they saw us, they scattered.

The sex industry in Japan is clearly created for and ran by men. I advised Cassandra to purchase online.

Adventures in Japan no. 27

Hungry and tired, I pulled into the Lawson parking lot. I hadn't ate since lunch, and smoked salmon onigiri sounded intoxicating.

Removing my security pass from teaching at the military base, I got out of my car and met the glance of a Japanese man getting out of his car. He smiled and waved. Pleased to see a friendly face, I waved back at the stranger.

Looking through the convenience store aisles, I found my onigiri and again bumped into the stranger.

Once back in my car I put my seatbelt on and the stranger walks by. He waves. I wave back – this time a little confused.

I leave the Lawson parking lot and head toward my next class at Yawata Bussan. “I hope he doesn't follow me”, I think to myself.

I arrived at Yawata Bussan 30 minutes early and sat in my car eating my onigiri. Seaweed, rice and salty smoked salmon is a fantastic combination. After I'm done eating I pick the remnants of seaweed out of my teeth in the rear view mirror and pull out my date book to look at my classes for the week.

I hear a tap-tap on the window.

I look over and there's a large white car parked next to me – the stranger smiling through the glass.

He rolls down his window. With hesitation, I roll mine down too. He begins talking to me in rapid-fire Japanese. Wakarimasen nihon-go, I say. He mentions Yamaguchi – the place my license plates are from. No, Yonago, I say in English. I glance back down at my date book, thinking our conversation is over. Anata wa kawaii desu, he says through his window pointing at his face. I thank him for the compliment. I think I'm cute too.

He realized this was going nowhere and waved goodbye. I didn't wave back this time.

Adventures in Japan no. 26

From the rooftop of Tenmaya I have the perfect view of Yonago. The peninsula is laid out before me, and I can see the ocean on both sides of me. It's dusk and overcast, and the air is humid. I smell the faint aroma of incense – lingering around me from teaching at Mrs. Ikuta's house – her family alter alive with offerings of incense.

The beginnings of summer are all around me – familiar sounds of the returning cicadas, the hot salty air.

Adventures in Japan no. 25

16 May 07 | 9:55a

Nice English – like Happy Teriyaki and Beauty Nails, it's another casualty of the English language in East Asia. It's also one of the classrooms I teach in --- and it's haunted!

The Nice English building sits on a busy street overlooking Yonago. It was a small hospital earlier in the century and was only recently changed into an English school. “Nobody died here.”, my manager reassures me.

With the old operating room changed into an office – no longer sterile white tiles turned gray, it looks like something taken from Silent Hill. The spiral staircase leads to a grizzly, abandoned 3^rd and 4^th floor – the ceiling reminiscent of a dead plantation home with brown swirls of water damage rippling through the paisley pattern.

I'm always alone in this building – waiting patiently for my perpetually late students – hoping I'm really alone.

Last night I taught an English class there to a small group of 8 and 9 year olds. The humid beginnings of summer have left a dank odor in the building, so I had the classroom door carefully propped open to filter out the rotting air. Without a gust of wind the door slams itself shut. My students were alarmed and looked at me for a reason. I shrugged my head and continued the lesson – once again propping open the door, but this time moving the white board in front of it. Again the door slams shut, the white board moved aside.

“Ghost house!”, 8 year-old Takashi shouts. The other 4 students agreed and continued repeating their English definition of what happened. “Yes, it's a ghost house.”, I casually said.

As soon as the children packed up and left for the evening I jolted out of there. I've always thought the old Nice English building was haunted, but now I have confirmation.

Adventures in Japan no. 24

The sky turned black at 5 o'clock. We knew a storm was coming. Sitting in class with a student, the room went dark. No lights. He quickly left the building and I followed not far behind him.

The rain fell like the ocean was emptying into the street and I had forgotten my umbrella in the car. I grabbed a spare from the downtown classroom as I fled out the door where the water was making its way up.

I dashed down the deserted sidewalk, my heels filling with water, and took a shortcut through a back-alley – rapidly being filled-up with water by the overflowing storm drain.

Once in my car I turn on the heat – it's a humid evening, but I needed to dry my clothes.

The only sounds back at home are the thunder and rain shattering against the clay-tiled roof. The shoji light up from the illuminated dragon that darts across the sky. The thunder shakes the house. I wonder how long it will last.

Mizu Shōbai

Just a few days ago an English teacher was murdered. She was smart, attractive, Western and my age. She'd only been in Japan for a short time – a place I was in not too long ago. It's a vulnerable place and sadly, she didn't make it through.


The Japanese man views a woman differently then a Western man. She was put on this earth to service him. Nothing more. This murder reeks of sexual aggression and Japan's gender issues.

Her murder has brought up thoughts of another murder of a Western girl, Lucie Blackman. But Lucie wasn't an English teacher. She came to Japan in search of wealth – working as a hostess in a hostess bar.

Since I first arrived in Japan 10 months ago, I've been fascinated by this strange sexual counterculture. You can't escape it – the Mizu Shōbai - it's everywhere.

Adventures in Japan no. 23

I went to a party last night that was one part casual dinner party, one part guitar jam session, and one part college kegger.

Here the French speak English, the Irish speak French and the British speak Japanese. How did we fit into this mix? Perfectly.

After ordering about 8 pizzas (Japanese sized pizza, not American) we settled in with the vino, made some new friends and listened to the best cover of Jimi Hendrix by a Japanese man that could be done.

Though he said tonight he would speak Japanese only, after a few beers his English was impeccable.

Adventures in Japan no. 22

Yesterday I noticed two paper lanterns next door. Giant lanterns leading down the path to the home on our right. Have these always been here and am I just noticing them? Couldn't be – they are too massive, to magnificent, too reminiscent of old world Japan.

My first thought was, “They're building a restaurant next door!”. But that's not the case. These lanterns have a special significance. They are symbolic of the funerary proceedings in the house on our right.

It is very common to see these lanterns around neighborhoods this time of year. As one of my students put it, this is a common time for death. The changing seasons must be too much for these ancient bodies to handle.

Funeral ceremonies in Japan are a very sacred time, and the families stay in mourning until the New Year. This is a time to release the spirit of their deceased to the ancestor world. Once dead, their ancestors become spirits and gods. They will never be forgotten and will be prayed to and cared for after death.

Two major chopsticks faux-pas come from this ceremony. During the funeral, the bones of the deceased are passed through a line of chopsticks-wielding family members and bowls of rice with chopsticks vertically stuck in the middle are placed at an alter to the deceased. It's considered unforgivable to pass food from one set of chopsticks to the other, and also to stick your chopsticks vertical into the center of your rice.

Adventures in Japan no. 21

Customs and traditions are what set societies apart. While not all traditions are native to a certain culture, they help sculpt who we are and give us a sense of place.

I was discussing Japanese birthday traditions with one of my students, Dr. Suyama, last night. According to recent Japanese statistics, he has a very large family, with 3 children.

As an expert in cancer chemotherapy, he is a very busy man and doesn't spend a lot of time at home, as is the custom with most Japanese men. He seems like a very gentle and loving father, though he doesn't always remember his children's names or ages.

This weekend is his youngest daughter's birthday - she'll be one year old. “What are some Japanese customs for first birthday celebrations?”, I asked him. This is what I learned:

There are 3 gifts the infant must choose from: a calligraphy brush, money or a calculator. Whichever gift the child choses will determine his or her future. The calligraphy brush brings scholarly knowledge, the money brings great wealth, and Dr. Suyama didn't know what the calculator meant. “Good math skills?”, I joked.

I asked the doctor which one he chose when he was young. He didn't know.

The next “test”, as Suyama put it, included kagama mochi. This is a stack of mochi (or rice cakes) that acts as a decoration around the New Year.

Dr. Suyama didn't quite know how to describe what the child does with the giant rice cakes, but his digital dictionary brought up the word “hump”. I really hoped it was just a language barrier and there was a better word to describe this rite of passage.

After a second of online research I learned that the toddler isn't expected to hump the mochi, but instead carry it piggyback and take some of his or her first steps.

My student has no clue why the Japanese do this, but it's tradition, so everyone does it.

I told him that American first birthdays involve a lot of family, friends, presents and cake-covered toddlers. He was surprised that friends come to the celebration. I was surprised that a baby is supposed to hump a rice cake.

Adventures in Japan no. 20

Last night I went out for dinner at Cous-Cous (a French restaurant in Yonago) with 2 of my English students, Masumi and Masami. Masumi is an advanced English speaker who makes a living selling Issey Miyake and goes to wine parties as a hobby. Masami is a beginning English speaker and also a customer of Masumi's. Masumi was a fantastic translator, though after we'd collectively consumed two bottles of wine, it became a little more difficult to understand her.

Masumi chose a 5 course seafood menu for our meal. I know fish is quite popular in Provence and most of the south of France, but I guarantee that sashimi-style raw fish isn't French. What would Julia Child think?

For the first course we were served an egg custard full of assorted seafood – I believe we had cod and lobster.

The second course was a stack of sashimi piled on top of a tomato wedge and a half of a radish – covered with a gelatinous fish consommé. It was probably my least favorite of the dishes, but it was still pretty good. The flavor of the consommé was very delicate and matched nicely with one of the bottles of Italian white that Masumi brought to the restaurant.

The third course was Shimane (a near prefecture) beef. It was amazing. Beef in Japan is so expensive and extensively marbled. It was sliced and tossed with wild greens and a warm mustard vinaigrette.

For the fourth course we had abalone and a small lobster in an escargot sauce. This was fantastic! I was a little put-off seeing Masumi eating the entire lobster, shell and all. The abalone was wonderful – very firm meat for a shellfish, and the escargot sauce paired so nicely with it – but I felt a little guilty eating an endangered species, so I asked if I could take the shells home. In Japan it's unheard of to bring leftovers home from a restaurant, so my request was received with laughs. I might not have normally asked to bring the shells of the fish I was consuming home, but I'd had a lot to drink and was really feeling the guilt from the abalone.

For desert we had a small piece (the size of a wine cork) of chocolate cake and frozen yogurt.

We ordered a cheese tray as an excuse to finish off the bottle of Italian red that Masumi brought, and finished dinner with double espressos.

I woke-up this morning a little groggy and forgot about the two napkin-wrapped abalone shells in my purse. Now my purse smells like fish. A small price to pay for a fantastic night.

Adventures in Japan no. 19

The waters of an onsen come from the mountains. Hot springs with the powers to heal. An eternal spring. Have the Japanese discovered the incredulous fountain of youth?

Going to an onsen, or public hot spring bath, is a part of everyday life in Japan. As Americans who are taught that nudity is dirty and shameful, it can be an awakening experience. I am walking, bathing and relaxing, nude, with a group of strangers. We are all different – our bodies have all seen different things: some childbirth, some surgery, some overweight. We are from different cultures, but we are all women living together on earth.

Kate and I were the only non-Japanese women in the onsen last night, but we're used to that. It's unusual to see someone who looks like us: fair complexions, and Western figures.

We soaked in the hot mountain water in the outdoor pool for an hour, surrounded by rocks and bamboo to shield us from onlookers. The steam rose as the cold winter air touched the sacred water, and then the rain began to fall.

Autumn

26 October 2006

It's autumn in Yonago. The Japanese maples are turning shades of bright red and the bamboo is turning a softer green. The humidity is gone for the year and there's a cool chill to the air.

It's the peak of the harvest – rice is drying in the fields and onions are hanging from people's balconies.

The persimmon trees are abundant with their fertile fruit. The leaves have fallen to the ground and the orange fruits decorate the sparse branches.

The Ant

I killed an ant this morning. I was putting in my contacts and saw it making its way up the side of my contacts case. I wiped it off the case and smashed it with my thumb – just one gentle thump and it was dead. I left the ant there.

Later that afternoon I went into the washroom to pop a pimple and noticed the ant was still there. Feeling a little guilty for killing it, I pondered the relationship between insects and humans.

I then noticed 3 more ants running past the body of the deceased. I moved in closer for a better look. One of its ant brethren (we'll call him Wilcox) was trying to pick up the body of the fallen. My powerful thumb-stomp stuck it to the counter, and Wilcox was having a hell of a time moving the deceased. Again, feeling a little guilty I carefully unstuck the dead ant from the counter so Wilcox could move him.

Feeling a notable joy, I watched Wilcox pick-up his fallen friend and (with a little struggle) carry him away.

Adventures in Korea no. 1

The Kampu Ferry connects Japan to South Korea by a simple boat ride across the Strait of Korea. Since Daniel's and my visas were about to expire we were forced to leave the country and re-enter – Welcome to Korea!

We spent Sunday driving through Tottori, Hiroshima and Yamaguchi Prefectures – together about a 6 hour drive through the very rural Western Honshu. Our first goal was Yamaguchi City. We met Maurice there (the owner of the English school we work for), had lunch and bought our train and ferry tickets. After lunch we took the train from Yamaguchi to Shiminoseki – another hour of travel.

Shiminoseki is the most southern point of Japan's Western Honshu Island. It's a lively port town with lots of great Western amenities. We went through immigration and boarded the ferry here.

When I heard we were taking a ferry from Japan to Korea I was expecting the type of ferry you'd take from Seattle to Bainbridge Island – something breezy and a bit uncomfortable. The Kampu Ferry has all the amenities of a cruise ship – a restaurant, karaoke, an onsen, and being from Japan all the vending machines you could ever ask for.

We found our room – a large carpeted room with a tv, shelving and about 20 futons on the floor. It was like a youth hostel on water. After a night of vomiting I discovered that I do get seasick.

The ferry ride from Japan to Korea is about 10 hours – the boat leaves Shiminoseki at about 8pm and arrives in Pusan at about 6am.

I've always thought that all Asian towns are the same – temples, languages I can't understand, no black or white people....but Korea was a bit different then Japan. Much more westernized – 7-11, the cars drive on the right side of the road, lots of loud horn honking, and no Japanese mullets. The entire city smelled like kim-chee.

After a day of wandering Pusan I really missed Japan. I missed how kind and friendly the Japanese are and how fresh the Japanese air is. We'd only been off the ferry for about 8 hours when it was time to board again for our return trip to Japan.

I'm exhausted, so glad to be back in Japan and am in no hurry to eat kim chee for a while. Cheers!

Adventures in Japan no. 18

7 January | 8:45a

As I was leaving French class last night, in the NHK parking garage, there was a bright flash of light. The kind of light you'd imagine when you're heading to the 'other side'. The light was immediately followed by a thunderous roar that shook the concrete structure I was in. I drove my Diahatsu Mira home in a storm of horizontal snow and wind gusts around 80km/h.

I didn't have a very blissful sleep that night. All night the wind was snapping our shutters against our house like rubber bands.

I awoke to a bright flash of light. Our entire bedroom was illuminated in what my mind could only place as an alien abduction (we all become X-Files characters in dreamland). The piercing light was again followed by a roar of thunder.

I crawled over Daniel, opened the shoji screen that covers the window above our bed and peered outside into the night sky that was ripping through the emerging daylight. There was a layer of ice on the window, formed by the clinging horizontal snow.

Were we getting hit with another typhoon? That's what I thought, but alas, 80km/h winds just sound louder at night.

Adventures in Japan no. 17

6 January 2006 | 9:43p

For months we have heard something in our walls. In our home. Something is sharing space with us. A flutter or a chase. Their sounds are haunting. I hear these noises only at night – scratching, clawing. Only I hear them. Daniel thinks I'm crazy.

Tonight we both heard them. In our walls – a scratching accompanied with a squeak. “We have mice!”, I exclaim. I finally know what has been taunting me at night.

“That's how the bat got in!”, Daniel proclaims. I'm confused. What are you talking about? We don't have mice in our walls – we have bats.

Adventures in Japan no. 16

5 December 06 | 7:58 pm

In Buddhist tradition nature is extremely important. When someone is close with nature they have found god.

This is the reason Japanese homes aren't outfitted with insulation – they want to be close to nature. I say, “Screw that, I'm freezing!”. Japanese homes have neither insulation nor central air. The homes almost breathe on their own, which is great in the summertime, but I don't know how we're going to survive through the winter.

When I arrived in Japan in June I thought it was so beautiful that the homes were made with such natural materials – just wood and paper, but now that winter's here I'm having second thoughts.

People here either heat their homes with kerosene heaters, which are great heat sources once you get over the smell, or a traditional kotatsu (a table with a heater under it). Most Japanese homes have a kotatsu, and it becomes the center of family life once the winter months set in. Too bad we don't have one. I think I'm getting used to the kerosene smell.

One of the worst parts of living in a Japanese home in Japan in the winter is the shower room. There's nothing worse then standing naked on the shower room's stone floor waiting for the gas to heat the shower water.

Brrr...I think I need to go fill my kerosene tank.

Adventures in Japan no. 15

"In 1492...the Indians and pilgrims came together for the first Thanksgiving.”

Well, at least that's how our fractured version came out when we were explaining it to 9 Japanese friends of ours over a mad feast of chicken, stuffing, mashed potatoes, green beans, sushi and pumpkin pie (all homemade by yours truly, minus the sushi that Masako made). We quickly realized that story involved the Spanish and no pilgrims at all, so the story went awry but the idea was all there.

Our guests arrived with “Thanksgiving presents” in hand. We didn't tell them that you don't give presents for Thanksgiving, because the Japanese love to give gifts and we love to receive them. When I saw the lovely cashmere Louis Vuitton scarf that Masako brought me I was in awe. She whispered in my ear that it's a fake she picked-up in Korea, so now I love it even more!

My grandmother would have been proud – pumpkin pie made from a pumpkin not a can, gravy made from pan drippings and a simple roux (just like she taught me). Dinner was filling and fierce – and I soaked up the compliments.

Adventures in Japan no. 14

3 November 06|10:42p

It was like a planned attack. It completely took me by surprise. Like he'd been stalking his prey and was waiting for the perfect time to strike.

I wish I had a rewind button to redisplay the incident.

I was sitting at my laptop planning my French lesson for tomorrow (Qu'est-ce que vous faites comme sport?), and a small flying bug made a mad-dive into my coffee cup. It wasn't casually flying or hovering over my cup, but flew at a perfect angle, rocket speed, directly into my coffee.

Normally I'd fish the bug out of my cup and continue drinking, but I don't have the energy tonight for that little bit of effort. I'm sure I won't even taste it.

Adventures in Japan no. 13

18 October 06|3:18p

A few weeks ago brought us a typhoon. Lives were lost, trains derailed, all flights to/from Japan canceled. I was warned by word of mouth. We have a television, but with two channels in Japanese onry it's pretty difficult to watch. I hear my students talking about seeing something on the news and I think, “How can you understand that?”, but then I remember that they are Japanese. They speak Japanese.

There are loud speakers planted throughout Yonago. At 8am, noon and 5pm they play a different song – this way you're never wondering what time it is. “Did you just hear the 5 o'clock music?”. Ah, I love Home on the Range!

Some evenings we'll hear announcements over the speakers (which are hidden quite well I might add), but again in Japanese onry.

I was told by a past teacher that often Japan's elderly go for walks and get lost, so the announcements are usually asking the neighborhood to help find a lost old person. We'll hear an announcement which usually begins with good morning or hello and always ends with thank you very much (in Japanese of course). Another lost old lady!

Rumor has it that we also get important messages over these loud speakers – typhoon warnings, lost old people messages, more lost old people messages....sometimes we hear loud sirens – are we back in WWII? Are the Americans bombing us?

....and then I think....if a typhoon is coming how will I know? It's been very windy this week – I'm talking howling, blowing spiders clear out of their webs windy. We've had cold temperatures at 21 degrees Celsius and horizontal rain. The sky is looming with dark clouds – are Danny and I unknowing victims of a force larger then us? Will we be taken out because we're the only whities in the 'hood?

Adventures in Japan no. 12

The rain turns into octopus tentacles as it hits my windshield. Each drop an oculous with imperfections. Yes, even water can be imperfect. Fall has come to Yonago and so has the rain.

A dreary Thursday. I had tea with Takano this morning and will be speaking (or reading more or less) in tongues – French to be exact – for the rest of the day.

Adventures in Japan no. 11

A Piece of You on the Bottom of My Shoe

I just stepped on a lizard on my stairs. I thought it was fatal, but after examining the dehydrated corpse I'm assuming it wasn't me that pulled the plug. I'd make a terrible Buddhist.

Adventures in Japan no. 10

This weekend we were blessed with the arrival of typhoon Shanshan - otherwise known as typhoon #14. My sister and I have been wondering what the difference between a typhoon, cyclone and hurricane are -- now I know: when a tropical storm originating in the North Pacific Ocean becomes more then just a tropical storm it's classified as a typhoon. When a tropical storm originating in the Atlantic Ocean becomes more then a tropical storm it's classified as a hurricane.

Last night I awoke to the loudest wind I've ever heard -- almost like the sound of a train. The house was shaking and swaying and it sounded like our shutters were about to be ripped from the house. The wind uprooted everything in our bedroom (we'd left the windows open) -- clothes, art supplies all thrown around the room. I quickly got out of bed and closed the windows to stop the wind and horizontal rain from coming in the house.

There was no damage to our house, though all of our gardening objects (pots, watering can...) were in different places around the yard. Our bamboo and Japanese maple took a bit of abuse from the wind, but I think they will recover.

It doesn't sound like anyone in our area was hurt, but just an hour away there was quite a bit of devastation.

Adventures in Japan no. 9

I'm sitting at my laptop on a hot, humid evening and am checking my email and drinking crappy iced Japanese coffee. I have some nice American roots blues music playing – overall a very pleasant, mellow evening.

Out of the corner of my eye I see something move in my bedroom. It's big and it's black. I was thinking, “What kind of bug got into our house this time?” after countless confrontations with beetles, cicadas, cockroaches, June bugs and other nasty things that fly.

I walk into the bedroom and I'm struck with panic. There is a bat flying at lightning speed around our bedroom. It is circling the room, flying up to the ceiling and down to the ground. It swoops at me and I throw myself to the ground and grab the nearest object to defend myself with: a French textbook. I'm wildly waving this textbook in the air as the bat swoops and madly flies around our room. Seriously, I'm under attack and I fear my life as I know it is in jeopardy!

The bat lands on the window screen and is trying to get itself back outside. Finally it comes to a resting place. I've scared the hell out of it and its scared the hell out of me. We're both exhausted and need to rest. The bat positions itself in an upper corner of a wall and I position myself on the couch, not letting the bat out of my sight for a second.

I call my husband and he's teaching class – no good to me at the moment. I sound desperate. I'm panting into the phone, “I don't know what to do!”. The school manager pulls into the driveway and I yell to her from our 2^nd story window. Jitsuko comes upstairs with a plastic bag and carefully pries the bat off the wall and puts him outside.

The bat was actually kind of cute and I feel like the crazy American woman who can't handle the unexpected – or more accurate, I can't handle creatures that fly.

Adventures in Japan no. 8

Through the window screen from outside I'm hearing a constant buzz – electricity, energy, synergy – a harmonious and noxious hum. Maybe the phone lines are buzzing from the summer heat.

The buzzing stops.

Minutes later it starts again, no change in sound or frequency.

I go back to my seat at my laptop to focus all my attention on translating French into English.

There's a flicker noise at the window screen and the hum of electricity becomes stronger, louder, unbeatable.

I look towards the window and something has landed on it – it appears to be a small bird. Upon closer inspection I realize the source of the buzz. It's a large flying bug, not a katydid or a cockroach, but maybe the size of a stag beetle. It has the body of a large beetle with the wings of a butterfly. A cicada.

Their lifespan is only 1 week – I walk around town and see their dead bodies lying on the sidewalks. What is their cry that I heard? A call to others? Is their short-lived life going to be expended? A last word? Distress signal?

Welcome to summer (bug season) in Japan and now the end of the cicada.

Adventures in Japan no. 7

Tonight we went to Kaike beach with our Japanese friends: Hiro, Mise, Dai-Chan, Yoshii, Higasa, Aimimi and another girl whose name I always forget -- who Danny has met through basketball. Currently in Japan it's jelly fish season (and typhoon season), so you have to be careful about swimming in the ocean. Tonight's antics at the beach included:

• swimming in the ocean after dark.

• 2 people getting stung by jellyfish

• diving off sand dunes into the sea

• watching the bendy Japanese boys do back flips into the sea

• wading in the warm ocean water

• Mise requesting Higasa to dance naked in the dark (“Higasa do naked dance”)

• everyone putting on “shows” with a long piece of driftwood not limited to: Higasa doing judo with it, Mise pole vaulting into the water with it (followed by Higasa and Yoshii), Danny riding it like a horse, Aimimi using it like a sword against Higasa, Mise requesting everyone to pole dance with it (“stripper, sexy dance”), everyone doing limbo with it, high jumping it, etc.

• Mise and Higasa sumo wrestling each other

• Learning the Japanese word for “scary”.

• Danny teaching our friends how to 'snap' someone with a wet towel and all of us running for our lives from Mise (be careful what new things you teach people).

• Everyone except Danny (somehow) getting snapped with the towel.

• Sitting in the sand pushing around dirt and digging holes

• Trying to push Danny into the water just to have him retaliate against me

• Doing push-ups in the cold sand when I couldn't limbo low enough under the stick

• Leaving the beach shortly before 3am and coming home wiped out

Ahhh, to be young...

Adventures in Japan no. 6 (Obon)

Japan's Obon week is a week to honor and celebrate families and ancestors past. It is believed that during Obon the spirits of our dead ancestors will return to this world and visit their families. Traditionally lanterns are hung outside the houses to help guide the spirits back.

Daniel and I were casually riding bicycles through Yonago this evening when we hit a ton of car and pedestrian traffic. We decided to follow the crowds via bicycle to see what was going on. We were lead down small traditional roads that were unfamiliar to us – past street vendors selling flowers out of their homes, past many homes built so close together they are all connected, over the river...

We found ourselves on a back road with homes along one side and about 6 large temples all connected together on the other side. Families and locals were flooding in to the temples. We peeked through the gates at the magnificent temples and grand entrances with hundreds of stairs. I wonder if during Obon you visit each of the many temples or if certain temples are designated for certain families.

Nonetheless we were riding our bikes alongside our Japanese neighbors on the way to a very sacred ceremony which begins one of the most important holiday seasons in Japan. After a few acknowledging bows, I'd never felt so close to traditional Japan.

Adventures in Japan no. 5 (a personal vent)

In America we make a big deal about race. We go out of our way to not offend any minority races and we go out of our way not to single anyone out. Race in America is such a non-issue that it's an issue.

Meanwhile, in Japan, if you aren't Japanese you are a foreigner and you're different. You get looked at and occasionally people want to talk with you to practice their English. You get singled out, but in a very non-issue way.

By the way – Daniel got denied a Japanese driver's license twice because he's a foreigner. He didn't miss anything on the written exam and only got marked down 2 out of 100 points on the driving test. Before the start of the driving test the instructor says, “When you come back tomorrow...”. Does this mean that foreigners in this country are set-up to fail?

Today I experienced a little “foreigner discrimination” if you will, when I went to the post office to send money to my credit union in the states. It had taken me a good amount of time to fill out the form and when I brought it up to the counter the man made me re-write the form because he thought my 6's looked like 4's. “Is it because I'm American?”, I asked knowing he couldn't understand me. I wanted to give him my business card and invite him to one of my English classes so he could learn the difference between a 6 and a 4. It's always men that give me a hard time.

Let's blow this Popsicle stand – we'll maneuver this roadblock.

Adventures in Japan no. 4 (French Class)

In my French classes we speak what you could call “Japanese-French”. I am a native English speaker, my students are native Japanese speakers and together we are trying to speak French – it can be really interesting at times! I expect them to understand my English mutterings and they expect me to understand their Japanese concerns.

In a “Japanese-French” class it's not unusual to hear a mixture of Bonsoir (it's an evening class), Konbonwa, and Hello. To express what we like we say bon, bonne, J'aime, bien, ski and I like. I don't understand their native language and they don't understand mine – our only means of communication being the small amount of French we know. When an L is pronounced like an R and an R pronounced like an L you know it's going to be tough.

Adventures in Japan no. 3

Japanese children are crazy.

I teach a lot of children's classes. A few of them take place at large nursery schools where I'm left to the devices of 20 children under the age of 6. When the children in my classes get excited about something: a new game, guessing a right answer, etc. they might do one of the following.....

- Kung-foo chop me
- Smack my ass
- Hit the child next to them
- Show me their naughties (yes, sadly during a game of guessing colors a 5-year old Japanese boy whipped out his penis when I asked the group where the color brown was)

I am a walking foreign jungle gym.

Adventures in Japan no. 2

Language barriers aren't stifling. They can be a means to escape the borders and definitions of communication.

Things I thought I'd never do that I've done in the last 2 days:

• Get into a car with a stranger who offered me a ride home
  
  

• Eat octopus
  
  

• Got out with 20 Japanese people to karaoke
  
  

• Go to an English bar in Japan full of every native English speaker in the city, and watch the England vs. Portugal World Cup game with them.
  
  

• Leave that English bar with a group of Japanese people we've just met who can't speak English and go out to dinner with them, and come home at 3am after having the time our lives!

Adventures in Japan no. 1.5

The 'Yam-Man'

At 8 o'clock in the morning I hear the familiar tune of "Home on the Range" coming from outside my window. "I'm in Japan", I'm thinking. I look outside and there's a van driving on the left side of the road playing music through its speakers. "Is it the ice cream man?", I think. Even better. He's selling yams!

Adventures in Japan no. 1

Konichiwa!
Sorry I haven't been so good with staying in touch up until this point - we've been so busy. Where to begin?

After about 19 hours of traveling, we reached the Kansai Airport in Osaka. This airport was built on it's own man-made island about 20min off the mainland. When we got to the airport the shock really set in that we are in a different country on the other side of the plant and no one here speaks English. Somehow we figured out which bus to take to the OCAT station in Osaka that is on the mainland. From there we had to wait 3 hours for the night bus to Yonago (the city we live in).

The OCAT station is small and again no one speaks English. At this point the only word we knew in Japanese was Gomenesai (sorry), which we used a lot! I had my first non-Western toilet experience at the OCAT station. I walk into the stall and to my sheer horror the only thing in there is a hole in the floor with a drain and a roll of toilet paper. I'm like, "What the hell do I do with this?". I guess Japanese women have perfected squatting, but I'll spare you the details. The OCAT station is also where I discovered how much I love vending machines! In Japan you can find vending machines anywhere, even in the country! It's pretty cool.

Anyways, we caught the night bus at the OCAT station to Yonago, which was another 6 hours of travel. The night bus was really cool - no lights inside, the seats recline all the way back, foot rests. We arrived in Yonago at about 4:45am - but Japan is 16 hours ahead of Seattle time, so our schedules were already thoroughly screwed up. Yuu (the school manager) and her husband Sean (another teacher) were waiting for us at the Yonago station. Danny and I had pretty much packed our entire lives into 6 large pieces of luggage and fitting them into 2 tiny Japanese cars (think the size of a Smart Car) was really funny!

Yuu and Sean brought us back to the house where they live (which houses one of the classrooms). It's a 2-story traditional Japanese house with Shoji screens and Tatami mats. The bottom floor houses a part of the school (which is separated off from the house part), a toilet, a washroom, an office and the kitchen. The top floor has 2 bedrooms that each have their own living room. Sean and Yuu are moving back to Canada (where Sean is from) so we will have the entire house to ourselves in the next couple days.

We've been sitting in on classes regularly and last night I taught my first class - a group of 4 boys ages 9 and 10. Today I'm teaching a group of 6 cousins ages 5-12 (the biggest gap in ages of any of our classes I think), and a French class. My lesson plans for the French classes are so extensive and time-consuming because a.) there isn't a textbook and b.) I'm learning the language as I'm going.

We went to City Hall to register as alien residents the other day. We will officially be aliens on 4 July.

Danny gets stares and giggles from school children everywhere he goes - it's really funny! It's been so hot here! It's been about 30 degrees Celsius every day and in August it's about 40 degrees Celsius everyday. For those that only know American methods of measurement (myself included), that's really hot! It is so humid here. You walk outside and can feel moisture, almost like a condensation, on your skin. At least the classrooms are air conditioned.

Last night we had a 2 hour trip to the grocery store because we were stopped by the sweetest little Japanese man who wanted to practice his English. He asked us all kinds of really random questions: "How tall are you?", "How tall do you think I am?", "How old are you?", "How old do you think I am?", "Do you play baseball?" (then he talked about Ichiro), "How long America - Japan?" (we weren't sure if he wanted to know how long the
flight was or how long we'd be here), he told me my face was pretty then asked me how his face looked - I gave him a thumbs up. Each of these questions took so long for us to figure out what he was asking, because he only knows a few English words, but he did a lot of charades. We somehow got out of the English lesson we were giving in the grocery isle and got out to the parking lot. But he followed us out to the parking lot and
insisted on giving us a ride home ("He, she, my I car. I drive"). We tried telling him we were fine and didn't need a ride, but he thought we were saying we didn't understand and kept trying to ask if we wanted a

ride. I was like "Danny, should we just go with him?" and we did. So we got into the car with a stranger and he gave us a ride home. I can't believe how trusting and friendly people are here, but I guess there is relatively no crime in Yonago. We got into his minvan and he insisted on giving me 2 of his daughter's Hello Kitty toys that were in the car. We arrived to the house safe, dry, laughing, with dinner and Hello Kitty inhand.

Sorry for the long letter - had to catch everybody up. I need to finish my French class lesson plan for this evening. I miss everyone terribly and will send postcards as soon as I can find them (Yonago isn't a touristy area). Take care!

Cheers!
Ingrid

Here is our address in case I've forgotten to give it to anyone:
2-8-22 Sanbonmatsu
Yonago, Tottori 683-0842
Japan