An Extraordinary Day

Each year, us foreign English teachers have to write a short essay for the prefectural board of education (a prefecture is like a state). We are asked the same every time, write about "the Japanese experience." While no one is short of matieral, it is difficult to fit something worthwhile (and appropriate) in just a few paragraphs.

None of us look forward to writing it, especially when we know our essays are to be translated into Japanese. So, our work ends up being very similar each year. Some talk about how they have adjusted to living in Japan, and some have suggestions for the program. Most essays however are about how great their students are, or how great their town is, or how great that trip they went on was, or... well, something along those lines. Others make no sense at all.

I definately felt mine made no sense last year. I wanted to write something meaningful. I wanted to tell everyone that cultural understanding is a slow undertaking, and we have to remember to be patient. But it was so boring, I fell asleep every time I tried to write it. My supervisor didn't know how to translate it. It was such a mess, when the printed version came back, I couldn't even figure out what I was saying.

I enjoyed reading everyone's essays, but in the end, I felt our endeavors were pointless. I realized the only people who read our work are the same people we talk to day in and day out... and they already know how we feel. Cynical, I know.

This year, I decided to attack the essay from a new angle. A simple angle. An angle that had no translation problems. So sit back, grab a cup of green tea and enjoy this year's experience essay.

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An Extraordinary Day

I would like to share with you an event that occurred during my stay in Japan. As we are lucky to live next to such a fascinating place, one Saturday I decided to take a stroll in Kyoto. It was an unusually fine weekend, the weather was warm for early spring and the sakura was not yet in bloom. It was just a few weeks before the crowds descended on the city for hanami.

My stroll as not planned. My predecessor left me a well used but handy Kyoto guidebook, which I browed on the quiet train ride south. Arriving at Kyoto station early, I chose a direction, one that took me through the city’s center and up east toward Higashiyama.

I saw some of the most interesting things. Through downtown were shopkeepers sweeping the streets preparing for customers, students in uniform heading to Saturday club activities, and old married couples well dressed for their sightseeing destinations. I saw a city waking and beginning its day.

Heading farther east, morning turned to noon, and what a day it became. Monks were practicing their daily chants; I could hear a deep bell being rung from far away. An artists’ class set themselves up in the grass and were studying a springtime shrine. Two ladies walked by in kimono holding umbrellas to protect them from the sun. Foreign tourists were out with cameras photographing everything they saw.

By late afternoon, I began my trip home. I looked back and recollected the day and thought how remarkable it was. As the sun was setting, I took a nap on the train.

So Efficient, It Makes Your Hands Numb

Last winter was freezing. The weather was windy, icy and it snowed every week. Without a car, a trip outside meant a long painful bike ride, or an even longer walk. And after being out in sub-zero conditions all day, I wanted to come home to a properly heated house.

I didn't realize how difficult that would be in Japan. See, there's something not in the walls of apartments here: central heating. Even though I never thought about it before, I missed central heating dearly.

Sitting in my brick cold cardboard-for-walls apartment, I weighed my non-central heating options. The most obvious was my air conditioner (it has a heating setting). The first day it was cold, I turned that baby all the way up and let her rip. But instead of warming up my house, it just jacked up my electricity bill.

I looked at the other, more "Japanese" options. There are quite a few, but they all work under the idea of "localized heating." Take the hot carpet for example. In a country where everyone sits on the floor, just flick the switch and viola, your tuchas is warm.

If that's not enough for you, there's a sexy little coffee table thing called a kotatsu. Put a blanket around it, turn on the heater underneath, stuff your feet under and you're cozy as can be.


A standard kotatsu, in a standard room, with a standard person in it.

That's how I spent last winter. Each night I'd plop down in front of the TV with a warm butt and warm feet and thought, "with the kotatsu and the hot carpet, things aren't so bad. Never mind that I'm wearing a hat indoors, I'm... warm! And it's efficient!" And as long as I stayed still, I wouldn't fog up the screen with my breath.

But as I watched ads for Playstation 3 and cell phones with GPS tracking, I began to wonder, is there a better way? I asked around.

Some people said electric blankets helped. Some, hot water bottles or space heaters. I tried to imagine sitting in my apartment with five different sources of heat trying to warm me. It was a ridiculous idea.

Then I learned of the kerosene heater. People use them all the time here and they warm the house real well. It was a perfect idea, except of course, that it ran on kerosene. Even though it seemed like the best option, I avoided them. Seeing my breath indoors was minor compared with the thought of burning down the apartment.

The strange thing about the cold is that after a while, I forgot how miserable it was. Once the weather started warming up, I realized I never wanted to live another winter like that. I needed to be prepared for the following year. Ignoring my fears, I bought a used kerosene heater from my friend. And I thought my heating troubles were over.

The heater worked just fine, but my common sense about them was zero. My friend didn't know much more. Neither of us thought it was a bad idea to leave kerosene in the heater when I took it home. But it was a bad idea.

On my way into the train station, I ended up spilling kerosene all over the ticket gates. I probably should have been arrested that night for attempting to blow up the station. Though it was my luck it happened then and not on the train.

I was too embarrassed at the time, but I wonder what the station staff thought of me. Did they realize we stopped using kerosene to heat our homes at least fifty years ago? They probably were only thinking about the fact that a moron tried to bring a heater full of combustible liquid onto the train.

Regardless of its flammable tendencies, I had my source of warmth for this winter. And even though this year hasn't come close to the frigidness of last, I'm still happy I have the heater. Every few days when the heater goes empty, I just fill the tank outside with the hand pump. Kerosene is too messy for indoors. And when my supply runs out, it's just a quick 10 minute walk to the gas station to fill up my container again. Carrying it back isn't so bad either. But I am finally warm! And as long as I open the window every 30 minutes to keep the carbon monoxide and sulfur dioxide from killing me, things are grand.

And to think I missed central heating.

Panel Discussion: Valentine's Day

Hi everyone. With Valentine's Day upon us, I wanted to host a small discussion on the subtle differences between the holiday in Japan and in the States. With me today I have:

Jacey Rabeski, a self proclaimed "Japanese pop culture fiend"


Mr. Takamiya, a local shopkeeper


and Chris Wellings, who just recently arrived in Japan and is looking for work.


Also with us are Yumi and Yuki, both currently in their senior year of high school.


I also invited Professor Nigel Turner, an expert on Japanese-American relations from Columbia University. But he unfortunately couldn't make it. In his place, the university sent a last minute replacement, their... janitor, Mr. Bartsworth.

Well, umm, welcome to our first discussion everyone! Let's get right into it, shall we? One of the things I find interesting is men aren't supposed to give anything on Valentine's Day in Japan. Only women give presents! Does it-"

What? You making this up? Sounds like no woman I ever knew. I'll tell you what my wife gives me on Valentine's Day. She gives me a shit hard time, that's what! How am I supposed to enjoy the game and a beer when she's non-stop bitc-

Umm, sir, excuse me, I really don't think that's related to the discussion at hand... How about I just pose this question to Yumi and Yuki then. Girls, does it bother you that you have to give presents to men and they don't give anything in return? Am I understanding this right?

[in Japanese] Huh, is he talking to us?

[in Japanese] Who knows, I dunno. Oh, Yumi-chan! Did you know your bracelet makes you look so cute?

[in Japanese] Awwww, thanks! It was on sale, too!

Ladies?

[in Japanese] Oh wait, what's he saying? He is talking to us.

[in Japanese] Hmm... he's probably saying your cute Yuki. I'd be careful.

[in English] Uhhh... (thinks real hard) oh, wow, yes! Thank you! Good morning! English!

[in Japanese] Eeeehhh!! Yuki-chan, you speak English! You're so good you know!

Ummm, ok, I didn't think we would have language issues. Let me rephrase that-

Actually, if I may? I just wanted to say, you know, I don't think it's weird for girls to only give presents on Valentine's Day.

Oh, well I didn't mean to say it's weird. Anyway, why don't you enlighten us on this a little more?

Yeah, well girls are supposed to give chocolate to the boys they like. I gave a whole lot of chocolate last year to the J-boys at my school-

J-boys?

Yeah, you know, Japanese boys. What, you never heard that?

No, well, I guess it's just a little odd to refer to people that way, that's all.

They are so dreamy... you know... they way they smile... and like, the way they talk... and... you know... their hair... (stares off)

Umm... you were just mentioning something about chocolate, right? Girls only give chocolate?

Oh, yeah, it's really nice to make your own, too. I tried to make some this year but I'm not so good at cooking so I ended up just eating it all.

Ate it all? That's too bad. But what about the men? Are we supposed to just sit around and get stuff from women? It doesn't seem so... I don't know... romantic, does it?

Romantic? What the hell are you, some kinda queerboy? If the only thing my wife gave me was chocolate I wouldn't complain. If she gave me nothing, ha, I wouldn't complain either. But you know what, she gives-

Please stop, really. We get the idea about your wife. I was just trying to make a point about the romantic aspects of a day when one person gives, and the other isn't supposed to reciprocate. It doesn't make sense to me. Chris, what do think?

What? These chicks are gonna give us chocolate? (motions towards the girls) I like that idea. Hehh, you ladies got any candy for me? (eyes the girls)

[in Japanese] (looking at her cell phone) Yumi-chan look! I just got an email from Taro-kun!

[in Japanese] Oh, really? Luckyyyyy! What's it say?

(turns to Mr. Bartsworth) Yeahh, they are totally into me. You just watch and learn from the master.

(glances at Chris and grumbles incoherently)

(sighs)

Oh, you know, actually, there is a day where boys give chocolate back.

Really?

Yeah, March 14th... White Day. If boys got chocolate on Valentine's Day, they are supposed to give white chocolate in return-

What, what's that? Hehh, you know I love to give my white chocolate! (looks at girls again)

Ok, dude, seriously, you are out of line. Let's have a little bit of decency, shall we?

What are you talking about? I'm just talking about candy, jeez! Hehh, ladies, yeah, you want some candy?

[in Japanese] Yuki... watch out, this big nose is trying to talk to us...

[in Japanese] (looking up from cell phone) Huh, what? Which one?

Oh god, this was such a mistake... Jacey, can you help me here? I'd like to get back to the discussion... you said you made your own chocolate? Why not just buy it?

Yeah, well, making it is more heartfelt, you know? I think the J-boys are really gonna appreciate it this year...

Excuse me... Ms. Jacey... You said you ate your candies, yes? Maybe you need to buy some then. My shop has some excellent chocolates.

Oh, Mr. Takamiya, it's good to hear you give some input. But if you could, please save the soliciting for after.

Save the what? I have number one best chocolates in town! Here, Mr. Dan, have a taste. (takes out small display)

(chewing) Oh, wow, hmm, this is pretty good.

Do you want to buy some, Mr. Dan? (stands up with the display)

No... no thanks.

(goes to the other guests) Anyone like to buy? Yes?

Mr. Takamiya, please, if you could sit down...

(puts the display down by his chair and starts screaming in Japanese) Welcome! Welcome! Chocolate for sale! Chocolate for sale!

What the hell are you screaming about? We don't want your crap!

Oh, for chrissake, please, please sit down!

(slides over to the girls) Hey ladies, what are you doing?

[in Japanese] What does this freakshow want? Can't he see I'm trying to email here?

[in Japanese] Maybe he wants you to pick his nose, Yuki! Haha! It's soooo big!

[in Japanese] Welcome, welcome! The best chocolate in town! For Valentine's Day!

Mr. Takamiya! Sir, will you please!

[in Japanese] Oh, Yumi-chan, Taro is coming to see us! Let's go get him some chocolate and get out of here!

[in Japanese] Good idea! These people are real weirdoes...

(turns to Mr. Bartsworth) Yeah old man, what did I tell you, they're buying us chocolate! Slap me some palm, brohan! We gettin' lucky tonight!!

What the hell are you saying? Get your hand out of my face!

[in Japanese] Best chocolate in town! Right here! Oh... thank you ladies!

Hey, ummm... Mr. Swave, I think your girls are leaving. Oh well... I might as well get some candy myself...

(sighs) I can't believe this. Well, how about we just call it quits for today. Thank you everyone for coming, I think... maybe we can have a more organized discussion next time? I will say though, that chocolate was pretty good... Hmm... Well, good bye everyone... I think I'll get some of that chocolate for myself...

Changes

I remember as a kid, I swore I would never wear baggy jeans. Simply put; it looked stupid. Stupid that is, until I realized all my friends at school were wearing them. At a different stage in my life, I swore I would never listen to rap, because it “sucked.” Until one day I actually listened to it (country however, still sucks). I also swore I would never wear medium tee-shirts because, surprise, they looked stupid. But once I re-realized baggy jeans were stupid, I noticed that medium tees are in fact cool.

Living in Japan is full of similar problems; sets of cultural "obstacles" to be avoided. We see what happened to foreigners who have lived here for a while. They speak funny. They point to their face when referring to themselves. Sometimes, they even suck their teeth when they are thinking hard. We don't want to become like that.

As new people, we wonder, "How much of the culture will we accept? Will we become weird like these other foreigners? Will we be unable to readjust to home when the time comes?"

People who are the most worried end up hating living here and detest everything about Japanese culture. For the rest of us, we slowly but surely sink into it without even noticing. This by no means says we actually "become Japanese," oh definitely not. To truly understand Japanese culture you must be born in Japan, to Japanese parents. There is no other way.

It must be due to some kind of national peer pressure; we find ourselves doing things we never thought we would. For example, cell phone ornaments (danglies, if you will) are ever popular here. If I can remember properly, they are highly unpopular at home (at least around most of my friends). So unpopular in fact, that after I moved here, I held pure contempt for foreigners who walked around brandishing ornaments on their phone. I looked away from my friends who bought them. I scoffed at stores for selling them. I wanted to have nothing to do with it.

Yet eleven months and a birthday present later, I realized I had become more accepting of the idea.


Mushroom power!!! What, no one is with me? It’s Luigi! Luigi, dammit!!

And that's not the worst of it. Let's get to the hard evidence and let the jury decide. Ladies and Gentlemen, I present you THIS:


But everyone was doing it!

Really though, everyone was doing it. Kyoto’s Gion Matsuri is one of the largest festivals in Japan. I'm actually surprised it doesn't have an official ranking, I can only assume the country hasn’t put together a committee for that yet. But the festival is quite large, and quite famous. And just about everyone dresses up. Just about everyone Japanese that is, but sometimes foreigners do, too.

The foreigners that dress up are actually the ones I have the most contempt for. They are so proud of their adopted culture and try to flaunt it to Japanese people. During the month long festival, I've seen the men dressed in yukata (summer kimono… think "dress") at the bar and try to chat up random girls. Then there are the ones who walk around in geta (wooden shoes) and gather crowds of ogling Japanese around them.

While I wasn't aiming to impress anyone, I was dressed nonetheless and apparently quite a sight. The girls in our group were in yukata and the boys, jumbei. For you curious readers, jumbei are quite comfy; like a pair of PJ's. And there is no better way to stroll around Kyoto than in pajamas.

But the things I have adjusted to don't end there, I'm sure of it. It actually gets a bit difficult to discern what I have picked up from being here, and what was always a part of me. It's strange, as I type, I find myself wanting to throw apostrophes where they don't belong. Why does "thank's" and "wan't" look right? Why do I consistently doubt the spelling of words with "L" and "R?" I know my student's textbook isn't going to say "Junior High School Engrish" on the cover, but I keep looking. Ever since my kids have shown me they can't tell the difference between "b" and "d," I keep wondering who is on the dasedall team and who owns a pet bog.

Even the way we speak has been altered. "Maybe" is used commonly in Japanese; for politeness people don't give definite answers. However in English (as far as I'm concerned), speaking like that comes across rude, even sarcastic.

"Can I go home early today?"

"Ehhh, sorry I forgot to mention, maybe you need to help with my lesson plan for tomorrow."

How about:

"Can I take vacation next Friday?"

"Maybe it's OK."

The problem with hearing this indirect politeness is that we foreigners end up adopting it. I don't even notice half the things that used to bother me, and I wonder how many more things I will adjust to in the future.

I will admit though, I still get frustrated when I'm not simply asked (or told) what to do. During class, for example, the teacher merely encourages me to do my job, with a lengthy, "We hope... that you would... review these words for everyone... and practice the pronunciation... so that they can become better at English."

I always want to answer, "Ohhh, am I being invited? Well, let me check my schedule for the next two minutes and get back to you."

Hmm… maybe it is something I will say next time.

Family Ties, or How I May Find Myself Sleeping with the Koi... Fishies

My town is fairly small, about three square miles in size. It’s also dismal, flat, and full run down homes and factories. And, unlike every other place in Japan, it’s not famous for anything. And ANYTHING can make a place famous. Like pickled fish, which my prefecture is famous for, or tanuki statues, which a nearby town is famous for.


A tanuki has big balls, boobies, and brings good luck when placed outside ones place of business or residence. If you and all your neighbors sell them, your town could be famous, too!

My town was in the news once, when the mayor wanted to tear down the old elementary school a few years back. William Merrell Vories, some American missionary/architect who lived in Japan in the early part of the 20th century, built it. The residents love the building so much; they made a human chain around it to save it from being demolished. Honestly, if the town is to be famous for something, it should be that.

What else does my town have? Well, the bullet train runs through it. Is that interesting? How about Nakasendo? That's the ancient road used by samurai traveling between Kyoto and Tokyo. It’s famous. Still don’t care? Oh, I know, the Yakuza. Yeah… my town has that.

How do I know this? It wasn’t the tanuki head in my fouton, it was a third year student. One day he proudly stated to me in the hallway, "I’m mafia!" And for whatever reason, I knew he wasn’t joking. After that, I started taking a real notice to the finer details of my surroundings. I noticed the town cars with tinted windows, the people with bleached mullets, tattoos, sunglasses, white track suits (I can’t explain why, but they love to wear them)… all signs of the Japanese mafia.


Above (left to right): traditional Japanese badasses


That third year student was always a pain in the ass (he has since "graduated"). He always would compare arm sizes, and he always challenged me to arm wrestling. He was quite bulky for a 15 year old. I think someone told me he used to be a scrawny little nothing. So I can only assume that he started taking some kind of weight gainer. Well, that's merely a presumption, but I hope its true because the day I accepted his challenge… he beat me.

It was actually the same day I had a friend visiting from America. This kid completely lost control when he found I brought a foreign girl to school. As I began a class, he busted in and started screaming in English, "I’m dangerous boy! DANGEROUS BOY!" The teachers were completely embarrassed, and it took three of them to drag him out. I guess he felt he hadn’t made his point so a few minutes later we heard someone knocking on the window. I pulled the curtains back and there he was peering over the second story windowsill! He hadn’t even pulled his head above the sill before he started screaming, "Dangerous boy! Dangerous boy!"

A few months later I had another friend visit. My friend is tall, a male, and black. For whatever reason, Dangerous boy just stood there and stared at him. He looked too scared to say anything to my friend, but he wanted to say something anyway so he reminded me, "Oh Dan, I’m mafia."

I realized another student in my school had family in the mafia, the kid who as a first year was arrested three times. It all made sense the day we had to double up our English classes.

It was a tough day; we had to double up classes because many teachers were absent. My teacher was definitely expecting trouble. And he got it. Our troublemaker student decided to show up to class that day. In the first minute of class he started to play music on his phone. Of course, the teacher told the kid to stop. And of course, neither of them were taking "no" for an answer. The teacher went to grab the phone. The kid punched him in the arm. The teacher put the kid in a headlock and dragged him out of class.

There was some scuffling in the hallway while myself and the rest of the class waited for the teacher to come back. After a minute or so, two of the troublemaker’s friends decided to check on their own.

A moment later they were back screaming about something. The news put the class into instant turmoil, something about the teacher and blood. I wasn’t really sure myself but I realized I suddenly had close to 40 kids to teach on my own. I will say, to their credit, all of them settled down and did their work.

A few minutes later, the troublemaker showed up in class again. He sat on his desk and didn’t say anything. He didn’t do the worksheet I gave him (obviously, he was sitting ON his desk), but he didn’t play music on his phone either.

After class, I learned that my teacher went to the hospital for stitches in his mouth. I noticed no one thought to clean up the bit of blood in the hallway… I guess that was left for cleaning time. The next period the student was being held in the teachers’ room. He was spinning around on his English teacher’s chair, singing and laughing, "Oh teacher, where does it hurt? Where!" I didn't realize why he was such a little shit until his father came to school to pick him up early.

It was just before lunch time, around twelve o’clock, when his dad arrived. Now this is a time when everyone’s mother and father are at work. But what line of work allows you to wear a white tracksuit? Standing next to his dad was another dude in a white tracksuit sporting a bleached mullet. It was obvious. Japanese mafia.

Graduation day was interesting, too (the school year runs from April to March). Our graduation had what every other Japanese school had, formalities, speeches, and crying (lots of crying). Even dangerous boy was crying. After the ceremony, while the graduating kids had one last homeroom, the rest of the school waited outside to say good-bye. On their way out, all the students wore their school uniforms. Well almost everyone, a handful came out in their new Yakuza uniforms.



They all had big pants, short jackets, and long sleeves. Each was a different color. Each was embroidered with Kanji (Chinese characters) on the sleeves and the legs. Dangerous boy had a giant butterfly embroidered on the back of his jacket. Of course, normally a butterfly wouldn’t seem at all intimidating, but that one was. Waiting for them outside was not their mothers or fathers, but a well-dressed man with a mullet and sunglasses.

***

They say the Yakuza thrives these days in the countryside as opposed to the city. And, being a member of the Yakuza in itself is not illegal. I’ve read that it’s an accepted alternative to mainstream Japanese life. As long as they don’t harass/exploit/murder the local townspeople, the police turn a blind eye. They don’t have to hide, that's why they are so easy to recognize. Some clans even have well marked headquarters in their towns. They also claim to conduct themselves in a "robin hood" like manner. For example, after the Great Hanshin Quake in 1995, the local Yakuza clan publicly assisted the relief in Kobe effort by providing supplies to victims.

I always think about their presence when a window-tinted sedan drives by, or when I see a lady at the store with a white tracksuit and bleached hair. They look so normal, but they sport glittery high heels, big rings, and fancy pocketbooks. I wonder about the person who lives in my apartment complex but can afford a Lexus SUV. I wonder about the bar at the other side of town that always looks closed but always has cars parked outside. I wonder about the warehouse near my apartment that is open occasionally at night… but of course, only when a window-tinted sedan is parked out front.

In the end though, a lot of that may just be speculation. Of course, I don’t ever ask anyone in my town about it. So I’ll only know what I see.

MTV Kuribu

I think it’s high time I showed you my apartment. This is actually my attempt to get on MTV Cribs. After watching about two hundred or so episodes, I think I figured out how to get on the show! You either have be ridiculously rich, or a clueless bimbo! Let me tell you, I tried really hard. I hope this works.

So, like, welcome to my house!

Christmastime

It’s been about a month since, but the Christmas season in Japan is crazy. Well, a lot of things in Japan are crazy. Karaoke. Mini-skirts in winter. Engrish. Television. But none of these are Christmas.

Christmas is plastered everywhere. In town, at the mall, by the station, in school, on TV, on the radio… it’s just like home. The colors are a little different; they favor white and blue over red and green. Oh, and there’s no baby Jesus. That might be important to someone.

Is it a bastardization of a religious holiday? I don't think it ever was religious here. It’s not about families and church and all that boring stuff. It’s for couples! During Christmas, all the young lovers are out taking their pictures by the tree, and the love hotels are all booked... that is, if you can even book time at a love hotel. Maybe there is a line outside or something… a very awkward line. This is just what I was told.

But never mind that. There’s way too much fun stuff going on! Don't miss the dancing black Santa bots! Uh oh! Is that racist? No! It's Japan!




Or putting your wish on the Wishmas tree!



Not even the aquarium was safe. There was the Christmas tree in the tank, the SCUBA diver dressed as Santa, and a mind numbing Christmas carol CD on repeat.



It was the jellyfish exhibit that topped it off for me. Besides the music and the decorations, each tiny tank had its own snowflake projector. Of course I took a
video (it's 5mb). I wasn’t exactly sure, but I thought these fish were on sale. Who knows, maybe it's a Christmastime specialty.