'A Weekend Away' or 'A Much Needed Break'

This past weekend in Kyoto turned out to be just what I needed to pull myself out of my low. I've come to realize that the majority of my frustrations stem from work - when I'm sitting at my desk with nothing to do, it's so easy to think about what I COULD be doing. That said, I've reached a new peak of self-motivation to try and avoid this.

But back to the topic at hand! It was refreshing to walk around the big city and, of course, to hang out with Taka, Hillary, and Taka's family. The main event of the weekend was the Plum Blossom festival. Taka's father had purchased tickets for us in advance, so we took the tram downtown and got in line.

After waiting in line for about half an hour, we were finally seated in an open-air tent. It was time for a tea ceremony that was, crazily enough, served by real-life geisha! Geisha are so mysterious in the western world as to be something of an enigma, but they're a fairly standard feature in hyper-traditional Kyoto. That said, tourists (Japanese and foreign) crowded the tent to take pictures and videotape the geisha at work. They wore beautiful kimono and had white-painted faces. Being served by such a gorgeous personage, I felt slovenly and gross. I stumbled through my 'thanks,' executed a sloppy bow and glanced over to make sure that my foreign friends felt the same – they did.

After finishing our 'macha' with the three required slurps, my friends and I left the tent and the geisha to wander the temple and museum. I bought some Buddhist prayer-charms for my friends back at home and took what seemed like hundreds of pictures. However, my attempts at artistic photos are very, very sad; maybe I should take a photography class when I get back to Seattle so that my experiences aren't wasted on poor digital photos.

I've seen better days.

The past two weeks have been strangely difficult for me. I find that I'm more frustrated at work than usual, I'm more sensitive to my cranky coworker's suspected slights, and I'm less patient with cultural differences and language barriers than I have been in the past. For example, while writing the interview test for the 1st grade students today, I decided to run some questions by my co-English teacher. She glanced at my proposed questions and said, "They won't know how to answer these questions. You need to change them."

"But I've taken them directly from the book!" I protested. "We've covered them in class. They should know the answers."

"No, you need to change them. And this . . . (insert an actual snicker here) . . . this is not even a good question."

I imagined tearing the paper in half and throwing it on the floor, stomping on it, spitting on it, then storming out to go find and eat the biggest cheeseburger known to man. I wanted to stand up for myself and tell this coworker, finally, that I'm not an idiot, that I've noticed her criticisms and growing resentment of me, and that I don't respect her for it.

But I didn't do any of the above. I acted like an adult would in a similar work situation, anywhere in the world. I took her comments in stride and I changed the questions, but I gritted my teeth while doing it and said bad words in Spanish.

This may not seem like a big deal, but it's these situations, every single day, that begin to exhaust me. This same coworker speaks to me condescendingly in class (in front of the students!), she asks for my ideas, only to automatically shoot them down, and she actually told me to NOT talk to the students during class. I'm at a total loss.

I think my frustration at work has begun to show itself in my daily life. I'm more critical of myself when I can't understand what someone is saying to me. I'm far less patient with the Japanese way of avoiding the subject. And I'm much more eager to move on to something new.

I think I need to take a step back and refocus on the positive aspects of my life here. I need to remember how much I value my students, how happy it makes me to see the elementary kids jump up and down when I come to class, how much Japanese I've learned in the past seven months, how important my friends here have become, and how much I've learned about myself. I'm going to Kyoto this weekend and will stay with Taka's family, which is always a welcome respite. We're going to practice Zen meditation, sightsee, and attend a Plum Blossom festival. Hopefully, this will rekindle my interest in Japanese culture and my excitement about being here.

And hopefully this will outweigh the current downfalls. Hopefully.

A new name in world news.

Finally, the day that you've all been waiting for has arrived; the first edition of the Minato English Newspaper is hot off the presses and being distributed around the school! In this month's paper, our fine journalists have addressed the meaning of the kanji for 'sing,' Daisuke's new contract with the Boston Red Sox, lucky sweets to eat before taking entrance exams, and, perhaps most importantly, school lunch. As the editor-in-chief of this fine publication, I am happy to say that the first edition was received with excitement. So much excitement, in fact, that students decided to share their copies with garbage cans and recyle bins all over the town! This is definitely a noteworthy day.

Here is an example of our superior reporting:

'School Lunch

by Hirai Yuki

I like school lunch, because it is very delicious. For example, curry and rice, karage, milk and yakisoba. But sometimes student leave some food from their lunch. This is very bad.

Everyone, let's eat all the food at school lunch.'

Thank you for your fine contribution, Hirai-san. You are plunging forward in a promising journalistic career.

The Milky Kiss

This is quite possibly the best post-skiing drink I've ever had. Thanks to the Black Diamond Lodge in Niseko, Hokkaido, for putting this exquisite concoction together. And thanks again for sharing the recipe. I can't wait to make one!

Recipe for the Milky Kiss (maybe best hot drink ever)
1/2 shot Baileys
1/2 shot Kaluha
A bit of sugar and cocoa
Steamed milk
Topped with cinnamon and cocoa

Drink after a long day of powder skiing, preferably in a warm lodge while it's snowing outside. It's a recipe for complete and total contentedness.

I don't know if you've heard . . .

But I'm a pretty big deal!

Gaijin Traps

At Tokyo Orientation, we were warned about something called 'Gaijin Traps.' These are large, uncovered ditches on the side of the road, presumably used for drainage. They're called Gaijin Traps because unsuspecting gaijin (foreigners) fall into them while walking and, sometimes, while driving. Until today, I have managed to avoid an embarassing and painful encounter with the Gaijin Trap. Inwardly, I laughed at those who fell prey to their yawning jaws. I mean, seriously, you'd have to be blind not to see those things!

But, remember, she who laughs the loudest laughs the least (or something like that). In any case, as I was walking home tonight, I stepped sideways off the road in order to avoid an oncoming car. I thought there was grass bordering the lane; an easy enough mistake. I quickly worked out that something wasn't right as my body poised in mid-air, prepared to dance the tango with gravity.

Luckily, the Gaijin Trap wasn't that deep and I only scraped the skin off my knee and the palm of my hand. Not-so-luckily, the oncoming car saw the entire encounter, so I jumped out of the pit and pretended to laugh hysterically. Oh my God! Isn't falling into a dark pit on the side of the road funny?! Hahahahha! The car paused for a moment, saw my maniacal laughter, and drove on. I limped the rest of the way home, though my pride was a little more raw than my skinned knee.

One thing a major in English did not teach me.

Apparently, four years of university were wasted on me, as it turns out that I can't spell simple words like 'rip.' I must have missed the day that we covered spelling. I was also absent for spell-checking and editing. Wrip. Wwwrrrrriiiiiiip. It kind of rolls of the tongue, actually.

Red Rover, Red Rover . . . I'm going to wrip your still-beating heart out of your chest.

This past Saturday, we celebrated winter with the Yukigassen - a highly organized and competitive snowball fight that closely resembles Capture the Flag. Unfortunately for the Yukigassen, our area is sadly lacking in yuki (snow). It's not much of a gassen without it, but we soldiered on and did the next best thing; played at Yukigassen in the school gym wearing helmets and pelting each other with bean-bags.

Our men's team was the first up. There were gasps of awe from around the gym as they strode onto the court. All seven were over six feet tall and dwarfed the opposing Japanese team who had two women that would be lucky to see five feet. But the Japanese team wasn't afraid! They were quick and wiry, sliding behind the barriers and revealing throwing arms that were honed in hours of after school club activities. One by one, our men fell and they limped off the court nursing their bean-bag wounds. This was not looking good for the women.

Luke looking very bummed after getting out.

"I hope we play that team!" Travy said, pointing across the gym at a group of middle-aged women wearing matching sweatshirts.

"Oh, no you don't," Tanya replied. "Those are the defending champions. They practice for two months before the tournament and play in Hokkaido every year."

"Right. Nevermind," said Travy and we watched in silence as the team jogged onto the court and stripped off their sweatshirts to reveal matching jerseys and elbow pads. It was a bloodbath for their opponent. Tension was running high among our group.

Finally, it was time for us to take the court. I nervously buckled my helmet and adjusted the chin strap, shaking out my tense limbs as we lined up on the center line. The referees checked our shoes for spikes (spikes?!). We said, "Onegaishimasu." We shook hands with our opponents. And then it was time for the game to begin.

On the whistle, we sprinted off the starting line with our bean-bags in hands. I ran straight for the barrier that marked the center line; the perfect position to pick off my prey. The only problem was that my throwing arm seemed to be a little rusty. Whenever I'd wind up and release, the bean-bag would end up about three feet ahead of where I was standing. Oops! But then, I aimed at their machine-gunner who had been destroying our defensive line with fast and accurate bean-bags. My bag hit her in the side of the helmet with a satisfying 'smack'. "Out-O!" the judge yelled. Success!

From the defensive line, Carly yelled the numbers of the opposing team and, in unison, we would direct all of our ammunition on that girl. We were running low on bean-bags and accuracy was the key. "Red Rover, Red Rover, send Number 2 right over!" Carly screamed from behind a barrier.

"Red Rover, Red Rover . . . I'm going to wrip your still-beating heart out of your chest!" I was overcome with bloodlust and a desire to hold the opposing team's flag in my shaking hands. It was time for our top secret attack plan - Operation Kamakazi.

I darted from behind the barrier and ran at a diagonal angle across the floor. I was on the other team's turf now and they turned all of their attention on me. The scene is burned on my brain in slow-motion; I dodged bean-bags and screaming girls, ran around a barrier (the flag was in my sight!), and was almost free and clear. I was almost touching the flag. It was almost mine! I could hear the guy's from the sidelines yelling encouragement, but all I could think about was slapping the other team across their faces - with their own flag. Only two steps remained and no one was in my path. One (only one step remaining). Two (I was there). As my fingers were closing around the flag shaft, I felt a ping in the small of my back. I looked over my shoulder and there it was. The bean bag.

"Out-O!" the referee yelled and I dejectedly jogged off the field, my competitiveness throbbing like an opens sore on my chest.

Our team, looking fierce.