Reuben Rye and The Dune

Reuben stayed at my house for the majority of his three week trip to Japan. Apart from some side-trips to Tokyo, Hiroshima, and Kyoto, we were together the entire time – and we never fought! I'm convinced that this is because I've reached a higher level of Nirvana, but it could also be that Reuben is a laid-back kind of guy. My adventures with Reuben had two marked differences to most adventures I've had here so far. First of all, the man has a large red beard that both scares and startles Japanese children. Second, eating fish causes him to break-out in a mysterious red rash, which ruled out eating any sushi, sashimi, ramen, or udon. This means that our adventurer's cuisine consisted of KFC, McDonald's, and knock-off Italian food. Feeling strengthened by my new diet of vitamin-rich western food, I was eager to see the exciting things that my area has to offer; for example, a very large sand dune. This is no ordinary sand dune – it is The Dune. Some local entrepreneur even had the brilliant idea of offering camel rides, because what goes better with a sand dune in Japan then a camel? Unfortunately, it was too early in the season for exotic pack animals and we contented ourselves with running up and down the dune and taking pictures of the sunset. It was all very romantic, in a platonic sort of way. But now Reuben is back in Seattle and my couch is missing its favorite surfer. At least I can eat fish again.

It's time for something new.

In other words, it's time for something a little more upbeat. I apologize for the downer post, but living in a foreign country is a series of serious ups and downs; if I didn't reflect them in my blog, I wouldn't be true to the experience. But onwards and upwards!

I said goodbye to my dear friend Reuben on Monday night and drove home to nurse my lonely, aching heart. Soledad, o soledad! However, I'm left with some great memories, not least of which was our most excellent trip to Himeji! I'm told that going to the Hanami in Himeji is a must-do in Japan, so I'm glad that I was able to experience it. In essence, it's a big, drunken picnic in the shadow of the castle and under the cherry blossoms. The day was slightly overcast and drizzly, but well worth it.

Looking at the pictures, you might notice an abundance of cherry trees and foreigners. We might have been the largest group of westerners that the Japanese had ever seen together. In fact, I'd

say that Japanese tourists took a pretty equal share of pictures of the castle and pictures of us.

Those are some mighty fine cherry blossoms!

And those are some might fine looking foreigners!

Updates from Japan

Actually, there really aren't many updates. I mean, what can I say? I'm moving back home in 3.5 months and, in the meantime, I'll do what I always do. I'll come to school every day and stare out the window. I'll think about studying Japanese, but pass it by for something more engaging. I'll go running, I'll watch rented episodes of Prison Break, I'll hang out with my friends, and I'll buy beer out of vending machines. Because that's what life is all about. It might be obvious that I'm feeling a bit weary of the situation right now, but no worries! It's Friday, and that means that I have an entire weekend to boost my mood.

If Oprah can do it, then so can I.

Inspired by my friends Liz and Rob who are running the Nagano Marathon next weekend, I've decided to dust off my running shoes, banish the icecream and beer, and start training for a marathon. To cement my commitment, I even booked my place! Okay, okay, I've signed up for a marathon before and not run it, but I'm older now! You know, more mature and determined and stuff. Barring injury, illness, or death (my own), I WILL complete this race. If you're interested, check out www.bellinghambaymarathon.com. It's a new race, so I'll be one of the first (hundred or so) people to do it. Cool! Oh, and wish me luck.

So you want to work in Japan?

This interesting (and telling) excerpt was taken from the book Behind the Japanese Bow, by Boye Lafayette De Mente:


Except for new recruits schooled in technical skills, managers do not look for the most intelligent, most ambitious, or the most energetic employee candidates. In fact young people who fit these categories may not fit into the typical company system in Japan. Many managers look first for young people who do not have strongly held opinions or ambitions and can be molded into what the managers regard as company soldiers - people who will adhere strictly to the military-like hierarchy of the Japanese company, obey rules without question, and devote their lives to working diligently and rising slowly in the ranks.

Female employees are usually excluded from the male bastion of management in Japanese companies, and are generally not required to undergo 'boot-camp' training. Their training usually ends with how to sit, how to stand before superiors, how to respond with the proper speech, how to bow, and how to serve tea. Not surprisingly, Japanese women bow more often than Japanese men.


Unfortunately, my college degree didn't include training on how to bow, how to speak to my superiors, or how to serve tea. I also, sadly, have many strongly held opinions and ambitions. I don't have much desire to be a company soldier and adhere to a military-like hierarchy. It seems that I'm destined for corporate failure in Japan, which maybe isn't such a bad thing - I'm coming home in four months, anyway.

For all of you women who spent over $30,000 on higher education and devoted four years of your life to the study of tea service and subservience, Japan is the place for you! Or you could get a job at Starbucks (the tips are a benefit).

Kyoto, Nara, Osaka . . . oh my!

In two days, Reuben, Travy, and I have managed to hit three of the top tourist destinations in Japan. Reuben is visiting from Seattle and Travy had yet to see The Largest Bronze Buddha in the World, Housed in the Largest Wooden Building in the World, so we decided to make it a weekend of destinations. On Friday night, we took the train to Kyoto, where we drank sake with Taka and Hillary before bedding down on thick, comfortable futons. The following morning, we set out for Nara, which is about forty-five minutes from Kyoto. In Nara, we managed to see The Largest Bronze Buddha in the World, Housed in the Largest Wooden Building in the World, wander the scenic gardens, gape at the ancient pagodas, admire the view from a temple perched over the city, and feed the (not so) tame deer. We ate some meat-on-a-stick to tide us over, then hopped a train to Osaka. After spending an hour underground trying to navigate our way out of the death-cave that is Osaka Station, we finally managed to breath fresh air and check-in to our hotel. We gave ourselves an hour to rest, then headed out in search of Indian food, which we savored for as long as possible. Actual spices! In the food! It was unbelievable . . . The next day, we woke up early and took the train across the city to Osaka Castle (a 1931 re-build, complete with a glass elevator), then another train to the Osaka Aquarium to see the whale shark and watch the otters float around on their backs, then to the Suntory Museum, to cultivate ourselves by viewing the Dali exhibit there. We managed to make our way back to Osaka station, where Reuben and I enjoyed HUGE bowls of ramen, then spent another thirty minutes in search of the exit to the death-cave. Today, I am exhausted and sore, but I can die happy knowing that I've seen The Largest Bronze Buddha in the World, Housed in the Largest Wooden Building in the World (twice!).

Books are great!

I just finished a great book and I'm so pleased. I'm so pleased and so affected by this great book that I'm going to begin using words like 'pernicious' and 'occult' and 'diverting.' I am of a higher intellect, thanks to literature! I have 'improved my mind by extensive reading'! However, I am embittered knowing that, had I read this book prior to taking the GREs, I probably could have improved my score on the Verbal section.

Coincidentally, I rented the movie (definitely not as good as the BBC version) based on said book this weekend. While watching, my friends amused themselves by asking about 'Sir Hughes' family fortune' and whether or not 'Mr. Hughes' had taken me to 'the family estate in Derbyshire' yet. I assured them that 'Mr. Hughes has an excellent family estate in Luton-shire' and that 'it boasts all the amenities essential to gentle living.' They were satisfied.

But back to the book! Really diverting (ahem) books are difficult to put down and you never want them to end. They are also, sadly, few and far between. But because I don't understand the TV and there's no social scene in my town, I've had enough spare time over the last eight months to read some very, very good books. That said, few come close to the one I just finished. Sigh. It makes me happy just thinking about it.

I must remember to ask Sir Hughes about that estate . . .

Ailey: English instructor, soccer player, student of Japanese, runner, Spanish teacher?

I just agreed (against my better judgement) to teach the Beginner-Level Spanish class at my town's International Association. Have I gone completely mad?

Oh, a soft-boiled egg? Please restrain me from devouring it right now!

I swear, if I have to watch one more middle-aged Japanese man hoovering food noisily from his bowl, I think I'll go insane. Every night, the TV has back-to-back cooking shows and each one features something new and exciting: Sushi! Yakisoba! Hamburger! Curry and rice!

Oh, wait.

They're not new and exciting; they're what Japanese people eat every day. And yet, when the food is set down in front of them, they react as though they've been given a plate of deep fried gold smothered in diamonds to eat. “Ooooooooooooooooooooooooh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Oiiiiiiiishiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!!!!!!!!!” Then the cameraman zooms in on one of the diners cutting a soft-boiled egg open with his fork, the yoke spills out, the diner hoovers (slurping sounds included) it into his mouth, and then proclaims: Oishii! Everyone gasps and inquires, “Oishii?” To which he responds, “Oishii!” Then there is a still shot of said soft-boiled egg poised on said diner's fork and the announcer describes what we, the viewers, are seeing.

Am I alone in thinking that this is lame? It’s JUST a soft-boiled egg! I can make it at home! In fact, I can make soft-boiled eggs, hard-boiled eggs, poached eggs, scrambled eggs, and fried eggs with no problems whatsoever and I definitely don't slurp while I'm eating them. For one of the most advanced countries in the world, the Japanese certainly have some of the stupidest television and, if I lived somewhere with any kind of social scene, I wouldn't be bothered to watch it in the first place. If, on my return to Seattle, I act amazed over the stunning feat that is a soft-boiled egg, please reject me from your company. It will be the least I deserve for acting like a twenty-four-year old with a lobotomy.

What's your best guess?

Some excellent Engrish was spotted today. Can you guess what it's an advertisement for?

MANDOM

Everyone loves a lover. Everyone loves Mandom. Man oh man, that's Mandom.


In case it wasn't blaringly obvious, that's an ad for men's hair gel. Man oh man, that's Mandom.

St. Patrick's Day Adventures

“Happy St. Paddy's!” Liz shrieked as Travy and I walked in the door. We'd been driving for three hours and were weary, but Liz was wearing a bright green wig made of tinsel and shoved a beer into each of our hands. “Where in the hell is your green?!” she demanded, again in a shriek. I looked down at my brown and pink shirt. Alas, I'd left my green at home.

“I have something for JUST this situation!” Liz ran into her bedroom and reappeared with a green plastic bowler hat. It looked like something I'd wear while dancing in the follies and singing, “Hello my lady, hello my darling . . .” but in an Irish accent. I gamely shoved it on my head. Celebrating Saint Patrick's Day in Japan is all about flexibility.

The night began with discussions on the Japanese language, world travel, and the state of international affairs (we're really quite deep and intellectual) but quickly – very quickly – degenerated into games of ‘Would you Rather’ and ‘Vegetable.’ Rob mimicked a sprout by punching his arm forward, Travy was an angry eggplant (or aubergine), I was a sack of potatoes, and Liz was, of course, a leek. But she said it more like this: LLEEEEEEEEEEEKkkkkkkkkkkkkk!!! Again, in a shriek.

It was great fun and an excellent way to take my mind off St. Paddy's Day one year ago, which is when I started dating my boyfriend, Ritchie. Celebrating your one-year anniversary is difficult when one half of the couple is in Seattle and the other is in BFE Japan. Instead of a romantic dinner, I ate Liz's drunkenly prepared carbonara. In lieu of champagne, I drank cheap Japanese beer. Instead of watching a movie together on a comfortable couch, I curled up next to Travy on the floor of Liz's apartment. Very romantic, indeed.

But we had fun with our make-shift holiday. It's also quite possibly the only anniversary I'll spend wearing a green plastic bowler hat and sharing a futon with one of my girlfriends. Travy is definitely not as good of a cuddler as Ritchie.

How would YOU describe a semicolon?

This morning, one of my students called me over to her desk and showed me a scribble on a page of her notebook.

“Miss Ailey, what called this?” she asked.

“Oh!” I said. “That's a semicolon!”

She looked at me questioningly, which I took as an unvoiced plea for explanation. But how does one explain a semicolon? More importantly, how does one explain a semicolon to someone who's only been studying English for twelve months? I was perplexed. I was flabbergasted. I was embarrassed by the fact that I probably couldn't explain a semicolon to a natural English speaker – and I majored in Creative Writing.

In the few seconds between the student's questioning look and my shaky explanation, I did some deep thinking about the nature of the semicolon. I thought about how creative it was for someone to combine a colon with a comma. I pondered the graceful curve of the semicolon's lower half and how it seemed to beckon the reader on – don't stop here, the best is yet to come! – while warning them to slow down, something new will be revealed on the other side of this punctuation mark. Do you really dare to venture on?

I pointed at a sentence in the student's textbook, “See this? This is a comma. And this? This is a period. A semicolon is somewhere between a comma and a period.” Then I drew a mini graph that looked like this:

, (comma) ---------------- ; (semicolon) --------------------- . (period)

Does it matter that I completely left out the existence of the colon? I don't think the student will notice. But my question is this: How would YOU explain the semicolon?

And why don't I have a better explanation for what it is?

I'm going to grad school!

I found out the good news today - I've been accepted to the University of Washington graduate school! This is very exciting and, hopefully, will be a good start to a . . . gasp . . . career. I'm really excited to be back in school. As nerdy as this sounds, I really like studying and learning and being in a mentally stimulating environment. For those who are curious, I'm going to get concurrent Masters degrees in Public Affairs (with a focus on International Development) and International Studies. I also hope to keep up with my languages by taking Spanish, Japanese, and possibly Arabic or French throughout my time at the UW. So, wish me luck!

And please send money.

School Lunch, Part III

This is 'natto,' quite possibly the most foul concotion known to man. To quote Wikipedia, natto "is a traditional Japanese food made from fermented soybeans, popular especially at breakfast. For some, Nattō can be an acquired taste due to its powerful smell, strong flavor, and sticky consistency." Wikipedia says 'powerful smell,' but it's clearly trying to avoid offense; the odor of natto is far beyond powerful. It smells like dirty socks left in a puddle of vomit and then dried under a very hot sun. The taste isn't too far off, either. But even grosser than that is the 'stickiness,' as Wikipedia calls it. A bowl of natto actually looks like one thousand slugs melted into it - when you take a bite, a string of slime connects the beans in your mouth with the beans in the bowl. Care to try some?

This thing called cooking.

I was raised by an indifferent cook. My Mom, wonderful soul that she is, has professed to hate cooking and, under her tutelage, I learned to make tacos, spaghetti, breakfast-for-dinner, and (in case of special occasions) beef burgundy. It's not a very diverse menu and, here in Japan, it's often difficult to find ingredients for tacos or beef burgundy. I also don't have an oven. But something has come over me! I don't know if it's the constantly repeating menu at my school or the dead fish glaring at me out of the sides of their heads when I go to the supermarket, but I've been overcome by a fever to cook anything and everything that I can. Who knew I had it in me? I've made curries and cacciatore, alfredo and mussels. There's no limit to what I can make! Wait, I take that back. I can't make anything that involves an oven. But anything that involes a stovetop is within my range! I can't wait to show off to my parents and Ritchie.

'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.

Skiing Again!

We decided to risk the possible lack of snow this past Saturday and go skiing. And thank God we did! When we arrived, the sun was shining, it was warm, and the snow was corn-y. Also, because of the poor conditions, most people seemed to be avoiding the slopes and we almost never had to wait in a lift line. Halfway through the day, it began to snow, so all of the runs were covered in a fine powder. It was so, so much fun and such a great way to spend the weekend. After skiing, we drove to Kinosaki Onsen for a long, hot soak in one of the hot springs there. Then, it was back to my house for tacos (purchased in England, of all places), hot-buttered-run and freshly baked apple pie (the latter two courtesy of Jennie, my own personal hero). Somehow, we found room for four people to sleep in my tiny apartment and we didn't get up until 1 PM the following afternoon. What an excellent weekend!

The weather is beautiful! The skiing sucks!

Lately, the weather feels more like mid-March than late January. The air has that fresh, spring smell, the birds are chirping, the sun is shining, and it most definitely is NOT snowing. Anywhere. The ski conditions are so dire, in fact, that our school ski trip has been canceled for the first time ever. Though I volunteered to be a chaperone and ski instructor, I'm secretly relieved that it's off. I don't want to pay $250 for the joy of watching a hundred teenagers ski and throw snowballs at each other. That said, I still want to enjoy skiing on my own time and, sadly, the warm weather means that it's not possible. I'm beginning to feel opressed by the not-too-warm, not-too-cold weather because there's very little that I can do outside. I still go running, but my town is laid-out along a narrow valley, so my running routes consist of either (a) running up the road and back or (b) running down the road and back. So, since winter seems to have skipped Japan this year, all I can do is wait until spring. Hurry up and get here already!

School Lunch, Part II

Another memorable school lunch. This is a small, dried fish, coated in something sweet (honey?) and sprinkled with sesami seeds. Delicious!

Skiing at Hatchi-Kita

I went skiing with friends at Hatchi-Kita yesterday. It hasn't snowed very much here this winter and dirt and rock were showing through in several places (the PNW has been stealing all the snow!). They had a snow machine going at full blast to make up for it, but it wasn't doing a very good job at covering the bare patches. Much to his chagrine, Luke got some deep scratches on the bottom of his snowboard. I was using rental skis, so I didn't care very much, but the thought of falling on those rocks sent shivers to the bottom of my fluorescent green rental boots.

There may not have been a lot of snow, but the view was still pretty nice. We had to take the lift down to the other side of the mountain because the run leading to it was closed.

Despite the crappy conditions, I had a really good time. Look at how big my smile is in this picture!

Next weekend is the Tajima ski trip. I might try snowboarding for a day - it's been a while since I've gone and, with all of the black runs closed, I might as well go for something new. I hope it snows, I hope it snows, I hope it snows!

Parking Ticket Woes (I never know what's going on)

Over the weekend, I parked my car in the Uniqlo parking lot, which is vast and never more than half full. Usually, it's not a problem to park there overnight, but this time when I arrived at my car, I saw that it had an absurdly large sign tucked under the windshield wiper. The kanji was incomprehensible to me, but the picture defied linguistic limitations – an enormous red circle with a line through it; the world-wide sign for BAD. "Crap," I thought. "A parking ticket."

On my drive home, I contemplated how much The Parking Ticket would cost. It couldn't be less than 2,000 yen, but probably not more than 5,000. Right? Wrong. There was a ticket waiting for me in my mailbox, which I read with a nauseous, sinking feeling. As predicted, it wasn't less than 2,000 yen, but it was definitely more than 5,000. This parking ticket was 27,260 yen, which is the approximate equivalent of $250. Oh . . . my . . . God. I had to blink back tears.

I took the ticket to school with me the next day and showed my friend, Hiromi. "Look at this parking ticket!" I waived the offensive thing in front of her face. "Tell me what this says!"

"Eeeeeehhhh?! Honto?! 27,260 yen! SO expensive!" She turned the ticket it over and read the back, as well. "And you have to pay it by today! Or it will become even more expensive! You'll have to take it to City Hall."

My stress level was at its peak. How would I pay for the rest of my trip to Hokkaido? How would I put any money in savings? Would I get to City Hall before it closed? Where could I find a hairstylist that knows how to cut western-style hair?! Unrelated, true, but stress is a funny thing.

At City Hall, the woman at the reception desk looked at The Parking Ticket and shook her head before launching into a long and, I assumed, detailed explanation in Japanese. I was only able to catch the words 'bank account,' 'money transfer,' and 'do you understand?' I nodded my head frantically, "Yes, I understand!" But I didn't. I didn't understand at all. 5 PM was quickly approaching and I needed to pay The Parking Ticket or risk deportation. The consequences were quickly multiplying in my head.

I sprinted across the street to the Toyooka International Association, praying that my friend Takako was in. She was! "Takako-san, help me!" I gasped. "Where can I pay this parking ticket?!"

Takako looked at The Parking Ticket. She looked at me. She looked at The Parking Ticket. She looked at me. She looked at the back of The Parking Ticket. She looked at me. Then she started laughing. I laughed, too, but not because I was amused.

"Ailey," she said. "This isn't a parking ticket. This is a notice from the school board that they're going to transfer 27,260 yen into your bank account today to pay for the mid-year conference expenses."

"So, wait. This isn't a parking ticket?" The realization was slow in seeping into my brain. "You mean that this is money that I'm going to be getting? I don't have to pay this money to anyone?"

"No," she said. "Which is good, because that would be a really expensive parking ticket." She laughed some more. "But maybe you shouldn't leave your car at Uniqlo overnight anymore."

I'm baaaaaaaaaaack!!!

And you can only begin to imagine my deep feeling of bleakness when, getting off the train, I had to wade through shin-deep slush to get to the taxi, then wade through shin-deep slush again to get to my house. Once inside, instead of being greeted by a warm rush of air and the smells of dinner cooking, I shivered my way into five sweaters and avoided the refrigerator as it seems to be emitting a pungent odor. Such is life back in the real world. And don't even get me started on the fact that school starts tomorrow! When, oh when, can I go on vacation again?

Last day in the Western World!

Today is my last full day in the United Kingdom. It has been such an awesome trip and so, so busy. I spent Christmas in Luton with Ritchie's family, saw Oxford, St. Albans, Cambridge (fun to see Ritchie go all dreamy-eyed as he showed me around, Pembroke, his former college), and London. I've spent the past four days in Newcastle with my friend from Japan, Liz. We went up to Edinburgh for a night and a day and had a raucous time, enjoying the castle, Christmas Market, and beautiful scenery. Other than spending time with Ritchie and Liz, my favorite parts of the trip have been seeing the Tower of London and the British Museum (SO much old shit!), walking around Cambridge, and the trip to Edinburgh. I've also loved eating fish and chips and various pies, as well as drinking tea for breakfast and pints with lunch. I'll be sad to leave the Western World, but I've stocked up on English tea and chocolates, so that should tide me over for a while. My Canadian friend just sent me a message, warning me not to come home with an English accent. Quite.

Cleaning Day or How Would Their Mother's Feel?

We’re nearing the end of the term here at Minato Jr. High School and, in honor of this special week, today we had a school-wide cleaning extravaganza. Initially, students’ cleaning the classrooms was a surprise to me – I still remember Rick the Janitor at Redmond Elementary School and his huge, powerful vacuum cleaner (I also remember him being hugely fat and driving a tiny, red sports car; how did he fit in it?). I was never expected to wield a broom or mop the floor with cold water and a dirty rag. But, here, every day after lunch is designated ‘cleaning time’ and the kids half-heartedly sweep, mop, dust, and scrub for twenty minutes.

Today went above and beyond. Today was the cleaning day to end all cleaning days (until next year, anyway). Today was . . . wait for it . . . Window Cleaning Day! Okay, maybe I was a sheltered child, but I when I was growing up, public schools took down swing-sets because they were considered too dangerous. The Big Slide was disassembled in my fifth grade year because kids acquired WAY too much velocity on it, turning them into tiny, hurtling bullets. There is no such concern for safety here. I saw students straddling the third-floor window sills to better clean a spot off the glass on the outside. They leaned precariously far outside and scrubbed while the teachers yelled, ‘Gambatte!’ and I internalized my fear for their lives. They stacked three shaky desks on top of each other and stood at the top, in order to reach the windows nearest the ceiling. I thought I was going to have a heart-attack.

In light of my newly discovered over-protectiveness, I think I’ll plan to be absent on Roof Cleaning Day and Trimming the Tops of the Trees without a Harness Day, much less Standing in a Pool of Water while Fixing the Electrical Wiring that’s Still Plugged In Day. However, one benefit to working at Jr. High School? There are no swings to be worried about.

Let's going to Kobe (captions provided in Engrish)!

Let's loving creativity of faces with Liz!

Let's experiencing exciting sights of Chinatown!

Let's enjoying delicious taste of expensive fruit!

Let's encountering funky pets!

Let's tasting spicy flavors of Indian food!

Let's having fun and memory times with friends!

Just a wee bit behind . . .

After an entire month, I am finally posting pictures of Ritchie's trip to Japan. They're late, but they're still good!

I hate you more than what?

While at a late dinner with Travy tonight, I was reminded of an amusing interaction from Luke's birthday. To preface this, you should know that Luke is from New Zealand and therefore the good-natured recipient of frequent jokes at the expense of his funny (to us Americans) sounding accent. Luckily, he takes it in stride and can dish as well as receive. But this is how the conversation went:

Ailey: You suck, Luke (or some such banal remark about how Luke is less-than-cool).

Luke: I hate you, Ailey. I hate you more than dith.

Ailey (to Travy in a whisper): Um . . . what's 'dith?'

Travy (to Ailey in a whisper): I'm not sure, but I think he means 'death.'

Ailey (to Travy in a whisper): Oh, death! He hates me more than death! I get it now.

Luke: I can hear you guys and now I hate you even more.

Sigh. Just remembering this conversation makes me laugh to myself. It's not quite as funny, though, as the story that Travy told about the German who pronounced anise wrong. When asked what the Greek liquor tasted like, he said:

"It tastes like anus."

And few things can compete with that.

In Tatsuno, trying to survive until tomorrow.

I came down south this afternoon because I have my first soccer practice tomorrow. The soul purpose of me traveling four hours by train (other than to pay Pumla) was to meet the girls that I'll be playing in the tournament with next weekend and figure out what team I should be on. The only problem is that I'm staying at Loz's apartment and Liz and Ryan are in attendance, as well. This might not sound like a problem, but when Loz greeted me at the door, he also greeted me with a beer and now there's some kind of concotion in the works that, I'm told, tastes shockingly similar to Chu-hi. So now I'm convinced that I'll be attending soccer practice tomorrow with a raging hangover and will instantly be relegated to the 'recreational' team. But you know what? That's alright. I'm not a competitive person anyway. Bring on the Chu-hi!

They are everywhere!

In response to my recent blog post about ‘The ghosts in the temple,’ my friend, Manabu, sent me this message:

‘Yes, it was just a ghost.

My friend used to live in an old house in Ahiya, Kobe. The house dated from the Edo period (1603 – 1867). The first time I went to his house, he said, “Small children are running around, but you won’t see them. They’re harmless, so just let them go.”

The next time I stayed at his house, he said, “If you see yourself from the ceiling, don’t worry. You’ll come back to yourself in about 30 minutes.”

Some Japanese people live with spirits and it’s natural for them. But it’s freaking scary for the rest of us.’

Tell me about it.

Pictures from Kyoto

This dragon reminds me of the character from The Neverending Story. Anyone remember him? What was his name again?

Taka and his family have a really old hat - it's from 16th century Portugal. How did it end up in Kyoto, I wonder?

Ailey and Taka in front of the golden pavilion. Yeah, that's right. It's a pavilion made of gold.

Actually it's just covered in gold, but it's still pretty cool.

Ghosts in the Temple

Taka and I arrived back at the temple gate at around 2:30 AM. The sounds of the city didn’t reach the building in the middle of the complex of temples and monasteries and the stars were bright. As I looked up at the gate made of wood weathered to black and the traditionally sloping tiled roof, a creepy thought crossed my mind:

“Taka, how old did you say this building is?” I asked.

“This part is about 400 years old,” he replied.

“I don’t want to sound silly, but do you think that there are ghosts here?” Saying this, I already knew that I sounded silly. In fact, Taka would probably think that I was so ridiculous that he would discontinue our new friendship.

But he responded, “Oh yeah!” and then went into a detailed account of the ghosts wandering the premises. There were ghosts walking in the graveyard, ghosts in the hallway, and ghosts in the bedrooms. Sometimes when he woke up at night, there would be a ghost standing over him. Sometimes when he opened his eyes, a ghost would be several inches from his face.

While brushing my teeth, I threw panicked glances into the mirror, half expecting to see a ghost standing behind me. I dreaded going to the bathroom in the middle of the night, fearing that a ghost would catch me unawares on my way to the toilet. I tried to settle on my futon, but couldn’t get the idea out of my mind.

“Taka!” I yelled through the sliding door. “When you’ve seen the ghost in here, where was it exactly?”

“Well, it’s usually standing right where your futon is. But don’t worry, it doesn’t mean any harm.”

I thought about how I would feel waking up to a gentle ghost hovering over me, wearing the white funerary robes that Taka told me tends to be his favorite outfit. I thought about it until my palms went clammy and my eyes wouldn’t stay closed. And then I decided that, if I did wake up to a gentle ghost hovering over me, I definitely wouldn’t like it.

“Taka!” I yelled through the door again. “Will you move your futon in here?”

“Ugh,” he sighed in disgust. “Ailey, it’s JUST a ghost.”

School Lunch

What images does the phrase ‘school lunch’ conjure for you? If you, like me, attended Redmond Elementary School, you’re probably thinking of green hotdogs, greasy pizza, and an iceberg lettuce salad bar. Here in Japan, the fare is a little bit different, though generally no less disgusting.

This is what we had for lunch yesterday:



Here in Japan we eat the insides of the crab as well. Even the brown, squishy bits.

Hiroshima

This past weekend, Travy, Katie and I made the long journey down to Hiroshima. It was three and a half hours on the train to Himeji, then another hour on the Shinkansen from there to Hiroshima. The trip home on Saturday/Sunday was about twelve hours longer, but I’ll get to that in a bit.

Hiroshima is a new city, mainly because it was completely obliterated by the atomic bomb in 1946. Every American knows about the atomic bomb, but it was something completely different to see the twisted atomic dome and the human shadows imprinted on concrete steps and the burned articles of children’s clothing. Each artifact was accompanied by a heart-breaking story like this: ‘Saori’s mother went looking for her after the bomb fell. She found a body clutching this lunch-box to its chest. She was able to recognize Saori by her favorite lunchbox.’

I went to Hiroshima not knowing what to expect, but the museum and the preserved atomic dome did a good job in conferring the horror of the bomb and its aftermath. Prior to this trip, I didn’t know that the citizens of Hiroshima weren’t warned about the bomb despite the protests of the scientists who worked to develop it (as the U.S. had warned other civilians of bombing raids), that Hiroshima had never been bombed before so that the U.S. could take notes on the destructive powers of the bomb, or that the U.S. had considered using an atomic bomb in the Korean War. The entire experience was shocking and emotionally draining.

Fortunately for my sensitive spirit, this trip wasn’t all about horror and war. We also took the ferry out to Miyajima – an island famous for its ‘floating’ gate and temple (the tide was out when we arrived, so it wasn’t exactly ‘floating’). The island is populated by tame deer that are greedy for bland wafers and, apparently, monkeys and wild apes. Though we paid the ludicrous 2000\ to take the rope-way to the top of the mountain, no monkeys or apes were spotted. We did, however, see some really funny signs warning about the dangers of looking a monkey in the eye.

That night (here is where the LONG journey part comes in) we left the island fairly late. It was around 8 PM when we finally got to the train station and bought our shinkansen tickets. After some sprinting for the train and some nomadic traveling up and down the length of it looking for seats, we were settled and on our way to Osaka. Aaaah. Sigh of relief! However, when we got to Osaka, our train for Tajima didn’t depart until 10 PM. As we were arriving at the final stop of Fukuchiyama, we realized that there were NO MORE TRAINS THAT NIGHT. Aaaah! Scream of horror and frustration! It was midnight, freezing cold, and the train station was going to close in one hour, so sleeping on the floor was out of the question. Luckily for us, an elderly Japanese couple took pity on our plight and helped us search out a hotel room. The first two were full, the third (and final) hotel, thankfully, had a room that could sleep three people. I fell onto my expensive futon and gratefully passed-out. I didn’t get home until 12:30 the following afternoon.

The atomic dome.

Fortunately for us, we didn't encounter any of these angry monkeys.

Some of Miyajima's tame deer share a nuzzle.

The famous 'floating' gate of Miyajima, at sunset.

Back to life, back to reality

Yesterday afternoon, I said goodbye to Ritchie at the train station in Tokyo and made my way back to Kehi. I'm back at school today after working only intermittently for the past two weeks and it is definitely a change from the sleeping in and late morning coffee drinking that I've been doing. Ritchie and I backpacked around Kyoto, Nara, and Tokyo and saw over one thousand statues of Buddha (quite literally), learned more about Buddhism than either of us ever thought we'd learn, fed the sacred deer in Nara, and gawked at the Harajuku girls in Tokyo. My eardrums are still recovering from Carlton's rendition of 'Shot Through the Heart' at karaoke on Saturday night and my back is still recovering from sleeping on random futons at random Japanese inns. Now it's back to studying Japanese and leading the sleepy village life. It's tough to adjust.

Adventures with Ritchie

It's been a while since I've posted anything interesting and I apologize. I've been keeping busy the past week because Ritchie's here and we are having many adventures.

Adventure 1: Staying in the financial district of Tokyo where nothing happens and everything is closed on public holidays.
Adventure 2: Teaching the same lesson plan six times at elementary school on Tuesday morning to screaming/crying/running/jumping kids.
Adventure 3: Getting caught in Friday evening traffic on the drive from Kobe to Himeji. A one hour trip took three and a half hours - I blame Ritchie and his lack of a map.
Adventure 4: A night out in Himeji (or, as Ritchie's prefers to call it it: the Hi-minge) that resulted in a next-day vomit session in the McDonald's parking lot.
Adventure 5: Sending the wrong phone numbers to Carlton and Sindy so that they couldn't reach us and almost didn't make it into town. Luckily, however, they perservered and today I'm at school, wishing that I hadn't taken part in . . .
Adventure 6: Watching blessed shrines carried by drunk and exhausted Japanese men fight each other in the streets of Kinosaki to the beat of the Taiko-drum, followed by a traditional Japanese dinner and washed down with traditional Japanese beer and sake.

So far we've had a great week and there's still one more to go. This week we're going to Kyoto and Nara, and then meeting Carlton, Sindy, and The Crew in Tokyo before Ritchie flies back to Seattle. I will update with more adventures when time allows.

What do you want to be when you grow up?

"I want to be a pirate when I grow up!" the boy said.

"Really? A pirate?" Though taken aback by the creative answer, I inwardly laughed at the idea of this boy wearing a striped shirt and an eyepatch, yelling 'Aaargh!' while hobbling around on a peg-leg.

"Yes, a pirate! I want to fly in the sky!" he continued, enthusiastically.

Confused, I sneaked a quick peak at his paper. "Oh," I said. "A pilot. You want to be a PILOT when you grow up." Sadly, my hilarious image of the kid pillaging villages with his one good eye quickly deflated.

"A pirate!" he said again.

"A pirate!" the class echoed. "He wants to be a pirate!"

Maybe it's still funny, after all.

It's not all fun and games here, you know.

Doorjamb: 3, Ailey's head: 0

The doorjamb made three strikes this morning in it's on-going war against my head. Once when I stumbled out of the sleeping closet to turn off the alarm, again when I stumbled back into the sleeping closet to make my bed, and AGAIN when I was running out the door to school. The doorjamb is good at catching me unawares and I have very little knowledge in fighting guerilla warfare. Therefore, I have a sinking suspicion that the doorjamb is winning. I would kill it first, only I don't know how. The doorjamb seems invincible, like Goliath, only not as tall and therein lies the origin of this war.

So tell me what you want, what you really, really want!

The lesson I had planned for the 2nd year junior high school students today was occupations and asking 'Am I?' So I arranged for them to play 'who am I,' standard language game in which you have the name of a famous person taped to your back and you have to ask everyone 'yes' or 'no' questions in order to get closer to your answer. Toward the end of the game, most of the students had already guessed their identities and sat down, but I was questioning a girl with 'David Beckham' taped to her back. She went through the prescribed questions and still didn't know - she was at a loss and I thought I'd help her out.

'Your wife is a singer,' I whispered.

She stared at me blankly. 'You know, the Spice Girls?' I urged. Come ON! She continued to look totally nonplussed. 'You have to know the Spice Girls! They sing: SO tell me what you want what you really, really want! I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want! I wanna! I wanna! I wanna! I wanna! I really, really, really wanna as;fksj;kdfjas;dfsjka;ds (who knows what they say there anyway).'

I was dancing around the room! I was really getting into it!

'If you want my future, forget my past! If you wanna get with me, better make it laaayaast! So don't go wasting my precious time! Get your act together and we'll be just fine!' The student was no longer looking confused, but now looked at me like I was crazy and giggled behind her hand.

'Miss Ailey,' Kanda-sensei called. 'It's okay, I'm pretty sure she doesn't know who the Spice Girls are.' A boy walked by and pretended to kick a soccer ball.

'Oh!' the girl said. 'Am I Beckham?'

I'm in Osaka!

This morning I took the train down to Osaka and I've spent the day trying to find my hotel (approximately one hour), trying to find Osaka castle (approximately 45 minutes), trying to find somewhere to eat (approximately 20 minutes), and trying to find my drive to have one last night of studying before I take the GRE tomorrow(approximately 4 hours). Actually, the day has been great! It's exciting to get out of the countryside and be in an urban setting again. There are so many people and lights and sounds! It's quite overwhelming. Luckily, I did eventually find my hotel with the help of a man on the street who walked me fifteen minutes out of his way to the hotel door. And I did find Osaka castle by sheer luck, as most people on the street had no idea where it was. Finding somewhere to eat was easy, but it was more a matter of building up my courage. Sometimes I get tired of constantly looking like an idiot who doesn't know how to order, read Japanese, or slurp noodles properly. Anyway, tomorrow I take the test and then head back to the countryside for a busy, busy week at school. Wish me luck!

I never know what's going on

You know how queens and kings used to adopt mottos for their lives? I've decided that, were I a queen (and we all know that I actually am), my motto would be, 'I never know what's going on' as evidenced by morning here in Japan.

Almost as soon as I'd arrived, the other teachers filed out of the teachers' lounge and disappeared. Apparently today is 'sketch day' so there are no classes and the students are scattered around town working on watercolor paintings. For the better part of the morning, the vice-principal and I sat there staring into space. Sometimes he'd stand up, at which point I'd frantically begin working on a project in case he happened to come and peer over my shoulder as vice-principals love to do. But he never did and I hadn't gotten anything done.

Finally, Doi-sensei (pronounced 'doy' which always makes me laugh inwardly) asked me to come do the rounds of town with her on our bikes. We rode around for about an hour, stopping once or twice to chat with people working in their gardens, one of whom is an acquaintance of mine, Yutaka-san. Yutaka-san and I briefly discussed my friends staying at his pension and agreed to meet next week. Doi-sensei and I rode away to check on the rest of the students.

When we completed our rounds, Doi-sensei said, "Okay, now let's go talk to Yutaka-san," and began riding her bike back towards his pension. "Ugh," I thought. "I already agreed to meet with him NEXT week. Not today." But when we got to the pension, Yutaka-san didn't want to talk about my friends staying in one of his rooms. Instead he said:

"Let's eat grapes!"

Which made about as much sense to me at the time as someone saying, "Let's turn this dog inside out!" or "Let's change the rotation of the earth!" But I followed him and Doi-sensei for a few blocks until we came to his grape arbor. We went in and were surrounded by low-hanging branches, heavy with the meatiest grapes I have ever seen. "Please, eat them," Yutaka-san said, so I tentatively bit into one. And it was The Best Grape I Have Ever Eaten.

These grapes are unlike any other grapes that I've had. I mean, the grapes that you buy at Safeway are crunchy and watery and taste a bit like you're drinking a glass of semi-tart water, but these grapes are fat and firm and filled with thick, sweet juice. These are the grapes that I imagine Julius Caesar eating while being fanned by slim boys in loin cloths. These grapes actually taste like grape juice.

After eating an entire bunch of grapes, Doi-sensei and I said goodbye to Yutaka-san and returned to school with about two pounds of fruit. So I'm back in the teachers' lounge, staring into space and avoiding eye-contact with the vice-principal. The grapes are in the kitchen, chilling in cold water and I can't stop thinking about them. I want to eat some, but I'm not sure what the protocol is. Like I said, I never know what's going on.

And this (because who doesn't love a monkey?)

I can feel my life slowly trickling away

It's a beautiful, breezy day today. The sun is shining, the air is warm but not too hot, and I am sitting in my apartment studying for the stupid GRE. I could be doing any number of awesome things right now. I could be running, or riding my bike around town, or reading at the beach, or taking advantage of this three day weekend to see some sights, but instead I'm trying to remember how to compare fractions. Remember fractions? I seem to recall learning about them back in seventh grade or prior. For the past two weeks, I have stayed at home reading through this book. I've canceled plans with friends and avoided any type of fun because I am thinking about my future. When I begin to feel stressed about things like fractions, I calm myself by saying, "Don't worry, it's just your future." My life has somehow become a fun-suck. But even now I'm wasting precious study time. The wind is blowing and the air smells nice, like grass and trees and ocean, or at least that's what I'm imagining from my sad and fun-less desk.

New Pictures!

I've posted new pictures to my Flickr account, just check under 'Japan pictures.' Unfortunately, Flickr will only let me load about ten every month so I can only put a few up at a time. Stupid Flickr. Always leaves me wanting more.

Typhoon Number 12

Typhoon number 12 is passing over Japan. In truth, it has completely missed Toyooka, though it has managed to blow all kinds of rain our way. I have seen drizzle-y rain, pellet-like rain, soft-ish rain, and angry, agressive rain. The angry, agressive rain is the most prevalent type and it will rage for hours on end. Right now it is dropping away outside, filling our sports field with puddles the size of Lake Union and reminding me of life in Seattle. When I walk to school in the morning, my neighbors look at my bare-head in horror. I stare right back at them and want to say, "You think this is bad? I'm from Seattle, bitches! I was born for this. I use rainclouds as my damn pillows." Unfortunately, the only part I know how to say in Japanese is 'I'm from Seattle' and, anyway, it's probably best that I keep these thoughts to myself. Secretly, I love Typhoon Number 12 and don't want it to heave it's last on us. For some reason, the rain makes me feel at home and I'm glad of that.

Ailey's car goes to the beach

I took my car on a trip to Kumihama beach yesterday. Unfortunately, I didn't have my camera, so I took this picture with my super-awesome Japanese cell phone. It's small, but look at how NOT pixel-y it is! Please note how small the car is. When I drive it, I have to sit in the back seat.

Driving in Japan

The paperwork was signed, the money was handed over, and I took the receipt in my sweaty, shaking hand.

"Okay, okay," I thought. "It's not that different. No big deal. Look right, turn left. Remember look right, turn left. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe."

I turned the key and the tiny Daihatsu roared (well, more like meowed) to life. "Hey," the American leasing agent yelled, "Remember that we drive on the LEFT side of the road here!"

I reached for the blinker and the wiper blades began squeaking across the windshield. I tried for the brake and accidentally hit the gas. And that is when I knew - I was going to die.

Do you feel like a voyeur?

At Eryn's request, here are a few pictures of where I spend my late nights, my early mornings, and free moments in between. Welcome to my house! But, please, take off your shoes before entering:

Indoor shoes wait to be slipped on.

Yes, I really am this tall. Either that, or my doorjambs really are this short.

My kitchen/living/sleeping space. There is another room, but this one has the air-conditioner.

Notice the space-saving sink on top of the toilet reservoir.

The outside of my wee house.

And there you have it. Please feel free to pull up a futon anytime. There's always rooms for a few more!

Oh, sweet air-conditioning

Right now, I'm sitting in the teachers' lounge at my school. I do this every day - come in a little before 9 AM, cruise the internet, attempt to study Japanese, attempt to prepare for the GRE, cruise the internet some more, then leave at around noon to eat lunch, nap, and find other creative ways to fill the rest of my day, which usually includes some kind of excuse to catch the train into the city and drink a Mocha Blast. School starts at the end of next week and, from that time, I'm sure I'll be fairly busy. I've already committed to teaching an adult conversation class on Monday nights, as well as Japanese lessons on Wednesdays, and salsa lessons on Friday nights. 'Salsa lessons in Japan?!' you might say. Yes, salsa lessons in Japan, and I am as baffled as you.

After work yesterday, I wasted away my afternoon in a local internet cafe (We don't have a grocery store, but we DO have an internet cafe. Priorities?). I spent almost four hours talking to Ritchie via webcam and e-mailing with a travel agent to plan various trips and further mentally escape the life abroad. When I finally left, my eyes were burning with all of the gratuitous internet-surfing that I had done. I even found time to read Perez Hilton and find out just how far behind the news I actually am. Depressing. This might be the driving force behind me paying for internet at my house. Also depressing.

Tonight I'm catching a train to the next town over, Takeno, to take part in the festivities for Bon Odori. My friend Colin lives there and is helping his community set-up for the festival so my friends and I volunteered ourselves, as well. It should be an interesting time with fireworks galore. And hopefully street vendor food. And vending machine beer. All of these added together equal a satisfying Wednesday night for me in Tajima.

Well, I really should get some 'studying' done. And by 'studying' I mean that I'm going to study perezhilton.com to find out what's REALLY going on in my absence. Who needs Japanese?! Who needs graduate school?! Celebrity gossip is what matters in this world!!!

Until next time . . .

The missing blogs!!!

Okay, so there were only two really awesome, unpublished blogs. Apparently I haven't been working as hard as I thought I was, but there you have it - my thoughts, fears, moans, and tears from the past two weeks. All wrapped up in two new posts.

Genki Foreigners 8/6/06

It’s Sunday night and I just got back from a long run through the rice fields and mountains. As I was jogging along, an endangered white crane flew out of the rice field next to me and winged off into the trees. Cicadas were chirping, the sun was setting behind the hills, and I thought to myself, “Damn, me, I love Japan.”

Strangely enough, this was about one hour after I had been sitting in my apartment thinking, “Damn, me, I really hate Japan.”

Ah, the life of a foreigner in a strange country. The language is new, the people all look the same but nothing like YOU, and you bump your head on the doorjamb every time you leave the room. One week into my journey here, I can definitely say that it’s been a roller-coaster ride of emotions – not all good, but definitely not all bad.

There are a lot of things I absolutely hate about Japan:

1. The mosquitoes. I’m beginning to look like a leper with all of the bites up and down my legs. I will soon be assigned to a village even smaller than the one I’m currently living in. Eventually I’ll probably find out that it’s a leper’s colony and I’ll die there. It will be sad, but not unexpected.

2. The humidity. People in Texas complain about the humidity, but people in Texas have things like swimming pools and cars and abundant air conditioning. People in Japan have semi-warm tap water, poor insulation, and their own two feet to get them around. I’m sweating just thinking about it.

3. The distance. What can I say? I miss my friends, my family, and my boyfriend. I love Seattle and always will. That hasn’t changed just because I’m in a foreign country.

4. The language. Okay, this could be misinterpreted. In no way do I hate the Japanese language, I just hate that I don’t speak it. However, it’s to my advantage that I’m the only foreigner and English speaker in my village because I’ll be forced to learn in order to survive. My mom claims that I have an ear for languages, but I think it’s just a desperate will to live.

There are also a lot of things that I absolutely love about Japan:

1. The Shinkansen!!! Two words – bullet train. Does America have one (and, no, the mini train at Billy McHale’s doesn’t count)? The answer is no. America also doesn’t have electric toilet seats that are heated, make nature sounds to cover your body noises, and clean your bum with a gentle spray of misting water.

2. The friendly people. The people in my town are so friendly; I don’t even know how to describe it. Already I have a ‘mama’ and ‘papa’ who live across the street and look out for me. I can’t walk to the post office without someone trying to speak with me. Everyone has been awesome and so appreciated by the lonely American girl who’s far from home and doesn’t speak a word of Japanese.

3. The mountains, the ocean, the overall beauty.

4. The food. I don’t care how much you love Blue C Sushi, the sushi here is better. So is the bento, the teriyaki (this could be a lie because I haven’t tried it), the Sapporo, and the rice. Yeah, that’s right, even the rice is better here.

Overall, though, the best part about my trip so far has been The Challenge. I was looking for a challenge when I left Seattle and I have definitely found it here. The past seven days have been so difficult and stressful and rewarding and exciting that I can’t ever regret my decision to leave my life behind and come here for a year. No matter how much I cry, mope, or complain, I am still the genki foreigner and I am here to have an awesome time. So to that I say, Ganbatte!

Village life - 8/3/06

I arrived in my village two days ago. After a full day of traveling on buses, bullet trains, and kurumas (cars) I found myself in the middle of nowhere and surrounded by mountains and river. I’m a fifteen minute walk from the Japanese Sea – or the Inland Sea for those of you who are more Korean minded – and a fifteen minute walk in any other direction to rice fields and trees. If I’m looking for humidity I don’t have to walk anywhere because here it is! Everywhere I go, it’s there.

I’ve spent my first couple of days here watching Japanese television, exploring the village and local Shinto shrines, and generally stumbling my way through life. When at a loss yesterday for what to eat for lunch, I went to a local café where the menu was only in Japanese and without pictures! The waitress and I awkwardly stared at each other for about five minutes before I pointed at the woman’s food across the way and said, “That!” So that is what I got and it was delicious. I consider it a successful interaction.

I have also spent a lot of time with my landlord’s family who has adopted me as a sort of freakish, unintelligible, gaijin child. On my first night here, they took me to see the fireworks in town and then to a sushi dinner. The restaurant had a conveyor belt like Blue C Sushi (or, as Ritchie said, “Blue C Sushi was like the restaurant that you went to”) and offered such fair as bacon sushi and weird-purple-vegetable sushi. Afterward, we walked around a street fair where I fished for goldfish. I had several unsuccessful attempts and the woman manning the booth finally scooped six fish into a plastic bag for me to take home – most of the fish died overnight and I flushed the rest down the toilet. I’m convinced that the death of my fish isn’t a bad omen.

The Mystery of the Starbucks Coffee Press (far from home)

On Wednesday night, the teachers at my school and I celebrated my arrival here. We played Grand Golf, the female teachers went to the hot-springs, we barbequed, and we drank lots of local beer and imported Carlos Rossi wine. The festivities took place on a mountaintop about an hour away from Toyooka, the closest city of any size in this area. The mountain, Cannabe (easy to remember, as the name reminds me of Cannabis), is very popular with Japanese tourists, but little known to outsiders. The ski slopes are small and unchallenging, the hot springs are isolated, and the views are nothing in comparison to larger mountains. So, once again, I was the only blonde, green-eyed person in sight.

The alcohol tolerance level in Japan is zero, so the majority of the teachers were unable/incapable of driving the long distance back to their homes that night. We ended up staying in the small inn that catered our barbeque. It was a quiet, nondescript place, run by a local family. The floors were slanty, the mattresses were sunken, and I didn't step out on the deck for fear of losing my life. But it was comfortable and convenient, so I happily curled up in my western-style bed for a heavy night of sleep.

The next morning, as I was having a breakfast of cold omelette with ketchup and watery rice, I took a moment to look around and noticed something very surprising. There, in a glass-fronted chest, tucked among the tea-kettles, glasses, and ceramic cups, was a Starbucks coffee press. A Starbucks coffee press, all the way on top of that isolated mountain!

I couldn't help but wonder how it had gotten there. Of course, there are Starbucks in Japan, but none in Toyooka and many people don't even know what it is. Did some worldly Japanese person bring the press with them in the hopes of having a savory brew the next morning and leave it behind? Or did it come from further away - an American tourist far from home, perhaps, or an adventurous traveler just passing through?

I don't know why I'm thinking so much about that Starbucks coffee press, but it has crossed my mind several times in the past few days. Maybe because it looked as out of place as I have often felt in the past two weeks. Maybe because it reminded me of home in the middle of my totally foreign surroundings. In any case, I wish that I had nabbed it because I could really use that in my town. Though finding the actual coffee would be a challenge.

I have some really great blogs!

Unfortunately, theyre all on my home computer which isnt hooked up to the internet. I would burn them to a CD and bring them to work to upload, but the disc drive on my computer doesnt seem to be working. Damn. Thus, my friends, you will need to sit tight for just a while longer. Then you can bask in the abudance of my blog posts and pictures.

Ailey, you might be saying, Why dont you just write a blog post from your work computer? To that I respond, My friend, my work computer doesnt have apostrophes and the font keeps changing into Japanese script. This is something that I dont wish to subject anyone to, much less myself.

So, please, believe me when I say that I have some really great blogs! And you will be seeing them very soon (I hope).

Tokyo: Day 1

I arrived in Tokyo last night, travel weary and numb. After being ushered through customs, the baggage claim, and onto a bus, I got to the hotel where I somehow resisted the urge to fall into bed and sleep away the night. It was only 8:30 PM in Tokyo time and past experience has taught me to stay awake as long as possible. Deny the urge to sleep! Instead, I met up with some other JETs in the hotel lobby and we meandered out of the hotel and into the balmy Tokyo night. We found a noodle house where you pay for your selection at an automated teller before eating and sat down to a dinner of chicken cutlet over rice, miso soup, and cabbage salad - the chicken cutlet didn't look, or taste, like you'd expect. Welcome to a foreign country.

Anyway, I woke up at 6:30 this morning with a desire to explore, so I roused my already-awake roommate and we wandered the streets. This morning I found: three Starbucks, a homeless village in the park, thousands of pedestrians, and some interesting vending machines.

Now it's time for snore-ientation (what an awesome play on words!). Hopefully I'm lucid enough this evening to see a little more of the city before I head out and become too cheap to spend money and too afraid to ride buses or trains.

Vancouver, BC

It's 8:00 AM on a Saturday morning and you might ask what I am doing up so early. Well, I'm going to Vancouver! Right now I'm waiting for Kelli to pick me up along with Jess, Maggie, and Denise and we are going to spend a girly weekend in BC shopping, eating, and going-out. Also (and this is the best of all) we're going to the Vancouver aquarium - I can't wait to see the beluga whales. Damn, I'm such a nerd. Anyway, I can't seem to locate my camera, so I'll have to contrive a way to steal pictures from everyone else to post here. Maybe I'll also try to get some poutine when I'm up there. French fries with cheese and gravy is hard to come by south of the border. I think Kelli's here, so I have to go. Fingers crossed for no searches at the border!

Two weeks to JET!!!

It is officially my last day of work and two weeks until I leave for Japan. Where has the time gone? I remember getting my acceptance letter three months ago and thinking that I had eons to prepare . . . I'm really excited to get to Tokyo and wake up in the morning with the realization that I am somewhere new. I love the way traffic sounds in new cities - for some reason the sirens are always different and car horns are always a little louder. Heat feels hotter and smells are more powerful. It's hard to describe, but there's something extremely vibrant and energetic about enveloping yourself in a new culture - I obviously love this feeling. I'm also scared - I don't know Japanese, I don't know much about where I'll be going, I'm leaving behind my family and friends and my boyfriend . . . Sometimes I wish I could flip to the end and find out what happens (but that would be cheating). Anyway, wish me luck. In 45 minutes, my last day of work will be over and the true countdown will begin.

My blog is growing mold

I think that I've left my blog unattended for too long. I've been so busy lately trying to get everything taken care of before the big move to Japan that I've neglected my little ego-based web project. I leave in a little less than three weeks - crazy! So far I have NOT: sold my car, packed my apartment, signed the necessary paperwork, learned Japanese, kissed my Mom goodbye, or piled anything on my bedroom floor. In fact, this might be the only list I have made on the subject. I am totally and completely underprepared and totally and completely stressed-out about it. Wish me luck! I leave for Texas in one week and only have one more week following my return to get everything taken care of.

This said, I'm told I'll have copious free time in Japan, so I'll be updating my blog hourly and checking it obsessively for comments. Let this be a warning to you.