What i’ve been up to

Brad, Lisa and Jon are so good at updating their blogs.

anyway… I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I love love LOVE the Fall here! and I also love the mountains. if everyday was a fall day mountain climb I would never ever go home. a few weeks agao I climbed Mt. Gassan and took these pictures.

oh and then I performed my famous michael jackson dance.. AGAIN (fourth time) at the Sakata INTERNATIONAL FESTIVAL. i was inbetween the filapina bamboo dance and the thai ladies dance.

Oh and I got to see BRAD. which was totally sweet. we met in Osaka and then got kinda bored so we went back to his house in shikoku (like. you couldn’t get any further from sakata) to do this…

And then rachelle came to visit and stayed for a WHOLE WEEK! one day i got home from work and she had made cinammon and peanut butter soba noodles.. it was the first time i ever came home from work with dinner on the table.. it was magical. and my buddies max and guy also came up and cooked for me. shepard’s pie. there it is.

well. i’m going to Yuki’s now
love,
Julia

I like Japan

Recently, a bit at a loss for conversation topics, I asked someone, “Do you like Japan.” Simple question.

“yeah, I love it here,” was the reply.
“why?” was the next question.
“I guess my favorite part is the people, how about you? Do you like Japan.”
“I like Japan, sure.”

I’m pretty sure I’ve been asked this question loads of times before and said that I love the food, and said that they country side is really beautiful, but it had some time since I gave more than a stock answer. And yeah, I like the people too, but that answer doesn’t have much meaning for me. Lately, something has possessed me to try and give it meaning. What is it about Japanese culture that motivates me to stay here, to be so committed to learning Japanese, to keep trying to make Japanese friends? I tried to grab the Japanese people by the horns and evaluate them, but I couldn’t find anything to grab on to. Sure, there are ubiquitously known generations touted by both foreigners and Japanese people. Namely, group mentality, politeness and respect, reluctance to clearly share real feelings. These things are real and important, but they don’t measure up as evaluation tools.

Then I think the problem is that the task is ridiculous.

“The Japanese people.”

I can’t say anything about “Japanese people” that is as completely true for one Japanese person as it is for another Japanese person. I’ve had many experiences. Some people have exhibited exceptional kindness and warmth but then some people have made me feel so uncomfortable and angry that afterwards I didn’t want to speak to Japanese people for days. And sometimes they were the same people in different situations. And sometimes they were different people in the same situation.

The latter was the case at one my elementary schools last week. After lunch eating lunch with ni nen sei (second grade), I joined the kids to play outside. As usual, I was hearing my name being called with tiny voices from every direction. “Juuurriiia senseeei! Look at this interesting thing! Let’s play on the tag line! Are your parents foreigners too? Can you speak ALL of English??!” A group of little boys called me over to look at the bug they were poking around and I was followed by two little girls, Kaeri chan and Miku chan. The bug was a huge praying mantis and just as I arrived the boys viciously stabbed a stick through its thick body, bragging about how they got the heart. The praying mantis scratched the ground and twitched the life out of itself as the boys continued to poke at it. It was disgusting and I didn’t think twice about scolding the boys. Kaeri chan and Miku chan immediately interegated, “Who killed it! Who is the killer!” They realized that I was troubled and taking my hand said “I really feel bad for it don’t you Julia sensei?, yeah, I really feel bad too. Yeah, I feel so bad!”

They turned my anger into feelings of warmth and we decided to have a funeral for the deceased praying mantis. Kaeri chan began digging it’s grave on the sandy baseball field, but the hole wouldn’t stand in the loose ground. As it was still wriggling, I felt relieved because I can’t imagine praying mantises enjoy being buried alive any more than humans. We carried it to the playground and dug a more suitable grave on a miniature shady mound. Gently placed it in the ground, covered it with dirt and took turns giving the burial site some final pats. The three of us (and some others who came to see what was going on) bowed our heads and placed our hands in prayer position and slowed stepped back.

The bell rang and the children ran back inside. I followed behind them knowing I had just experienced something special. Two six year olds clearly understood something cruel had happened and reacted to it with enough care, love and imagination to stop any war. I thought to myself, “wow, this is definitely example of why I like Japan.” But then something clicked, the kindness displayed by Kaeri chan and Miku chan wasn’t necessary “Japanese” kindness, it was just kindness. “Actually, this is an example of why I like the world, the people in it and the ways they live their lives,” I thought. I like the world, and Japan is part of the world so yes, I like Japan. Glad I worked out that complicated problem with such a clear and specific answer.

So I am pouring my heart and soul into fitting in here because I just want to be able to know what’s going on. I want to effectively communicate with the people around me and not be afraid to talk to them or to love them. I want to laugh and play with second graders, to help out my too shy for words troubled students, and I want to be myself. Learn how to express myself within a new context and communicate in new ways, sometimes with language and sometimes without. 住めば都, sumeba miyako, “wherever you live is the best place” is the Japanese expression that quite succinctly sums up my answer to the question “Do you like Japan.”

here is the story in Japanese.

今日東平田小学校で面白い一日でした。２年生の子供達と一緒に外で遊んで、いろいろな話をしたり質問に答えたりしました。ある少女に話していた時、自分の名前をよばれたのが聞こえた。ジュリア先生、ホラ！　男の子の所に行って、立派で大きいカマキリを見ました。子供達はカマキリをいじめてました。やめなさい！と言うやとするまう、カマキリはもう殺された。心臓が止まってしまいました。すごくかわいそうな気持ちでした。でも、その少女もかわいそうにから、なぐさめてくれました。　私の手をを取っていながら、“かわいそうね、ジュリア先生”と言いました。そうすると、だんだん気持ちよくなってきて、カマキリの葬式をしてやりました。カマキリを埋めてやって、地面に返しました。皆さんは、感動しました。

Musings

Things I learned from Paul this weekend

poru

1. Origin of the word “posh”: a long time ago when people used to take ships places from England going out the best place was port side and coming back the best place was starboard side and it’s really expensive to have your room changed. so only really rich people could do it. And those really rich people wrote Posh on their ship application forms. (port out starboard home). (however wikipedia said this is false and not real.. but it’s still interesting)
2. Origin of “close but no cigar”: A long time ago in England kids used to play shoot at the target games at fairs and the prize was a cigar. So if they hit the target but not the bullseye.. they target game man would say, “close! but no cigar lad!”
3. when Paul was young he pulled on his grandmother’s dog’s dog leash and accidently killed the dog.

Something cute
At an elementary school last week a kid asked me

全部英語を喋りますか？
zenbu eigo o shaberimasu ka?

Do you speak all of English?

I said, “no, I don’t really understand it.”

My two favorite songs
1. The final countdown
2. Hit em up Style

and foods
1. bananas and cereal
2. onigiri (rice balls)
3. Japanese kare raisu (curry rice)

why studying japanese is neccessary for my job (things said in english are in ALL CAPS)
Nanachan: SUMMER VACATION. what did you do?
Julia: I went on a trip to Vietnam. What did you do?
Nanachan: SEX
Julia: haha.. with who?
Nanachan: A lot of people.. there are too many too count. EIGHT
Julia: wow you were busy.
Nanachan: when is the last time you had sex Julia?
Julia: like i’m going to say
Nanachan: Sex feels good doesn’t it (kimochi neeeeeee)
Julia: yeah, let’s talk after you graduate.

I miss Katey

THE EAST/WEST series

Nam

I was cheated out of my chance to go to Vietnam in 2003 because of the SARS fiasco and since then it’s been in the back of my mind as a future travel destination. My desire to go increased through the years as my friends who visited and the books I read promoted it as a place for finding enchantment, excitement and as much delicious street food as one could ever hope for. In my mind, I created Vietnam as a colorful, eclectic, at times quirky Asian wonder. Me and everyone else in Japan hold onto their schedules as tightly as possible so I was looking forward to a healthy dose of disorganization and unpredictability. When my buddy Jeff and I called the embassy in Tokyo to enquire about visas the representative’s lackadaisical response made us realize that this wouldn’t be difficult to find in Vietnam. “Yeah yeah, okay, don’t worry about it, just send the passport.. Okay? Okay. Bye. click.”

Although I hadn’t done much lonely planet studying or other research to find out what we were in store for, I was prepared to love Vietnam. I wanted to be swept off my feet and enraptured in color, sound, smells and liveliness. And as it turned out the endless rain of Vietnam’s rainy season broke down and washed away my romantic notions and created a space for some upper respiratory inflammation and an ability to be more honest with my experience. A good experience though. A colorful, eclectic, quirky and unpredictable experience. An experience worth breaking my several month long blog dry spell with anyway.

We arrived in Saigon at around midnight and in recognition to our ignorance about anything Vietnamese didn’t make an effort to get anywhere cheaply. But even when it’s expensive it’s still relatively cheap so I guess all we really lost was our respect. Straight away to the cheap hotel/backpacker district (that seems to exist in every single Asian city except Baghdad and Tokyo), set our bags down, had a beer and relaxed in the feeling that we had made it. A hotel was easy to find, and large and clean for 10 dollars a night. I couldn’t wait for breakfast.

Finally, the coffee in Vietnam is just as sensually fulfilling as coffee’s aroma. It brews at your table through a French press and falls out onto a dollop of condensed milk thick and rich. And then you are never more than a few minutes away from a hot bowl of pho. Rice noodles in a light but flavorful broth enhanced by beef or chicken, limes, chilies, and a pile of fresh green herbs. You can get it in most cities in America, you can find it if you look hard in Japan, but only in Vietnam does it cost one dollar at its most expensive.

okay, I had Pho in Vietnam. That’s all I needed from Saigon at first. On the first morning we were on a train bound for the beach. Nha Trang is a bit of a beach tourist trap, and as a destination I could have took it or left it. However, knowing that my wonderful friend Jimale would be there I couldn’t get there fast enough. Which isn’t to say that the train ride wasn’t enjoyable. In fact, it was delightful. I awoke from a nap to hear Jeff agreeing to have coffee with someone. I wanted to talk to, but I also wanted to look out the window, eventually I found myself comfortable situated in a conversation about the business of exporting fish from Vietnam to California and the six of us were buddies for the next couple hours. Two business partners who worked in the aforementioned business, the lovely young women wearing stylish bronze suit that fit like a glove “accompanying” them, and the cute 20 something train employee whose only job was to pretend to sweep the floor every couple hours or so. The two men got a kick out of us and excitedly answered all of our questions about their country. The longhaired thin lipped girl in bronze started to sing almost out of nowhere with conviction, sass, and a look in her eyes that commanded attention. The train boy melted my heart. He childishly flirted with both Jeff and me, played with and admired my bangles, and let me hang out of the window of the moving train. I loved Vietnam then.

Julia!
Today (August 1st) I’m SCUBA diving until about 1 or 2 pm. Stay here if you want or leave me a note where you’re staying and what time you want to meet. I suggest 5pm here at this hotel. Sound good? See you soon! –Jimale Wallace Room 205

…and we met and it was wonderful.

Taking the advice of Jimale and Daniel, Jeff and I decided to join them on the boat one day and go scuba diving. Something I never would have considered doing without the encouragement of someone else, but something I won’t pass up if I have another opportunity to do it. It’s like flying. Or being in a completely different world with all new rules and properties. And when I came to the surface it was like a huge buffet of all you can breath oxygen. A totally new sensatioin.

Some Scuba pictures by Jimale here!

Some more pictures from Nha Trang

Then it started to rain. And pour. And rain some more. Jeff and I headed to the perpetually cooler than the rest of the country, Dalat. We were wet and cold for three days. Instead of renting motorbikes and exploring the all the lakes and mountains travelers to Dalat are meant to do, we were forced to do what can best be described as “creatively dodging the rain.” But that was okay. I like hanging out in those mountain retreat towns. With my socks, over sized trousers, zipped up over my chin jacket, a stomach full of a breakfast of hot rice and piles of stewed veggies, I sat in Café Tung. Slowly sipping the strongest and sweetest coffee evening out the flavor with the dandelion colored jasmine tea. Vietnamese dudes in greaser leather jackets smoked cigarettes and chatted like they didn’t even care. Chimes and slow guitar brought a women’s heart broken vocals in and out. She must have been wearing a gaudy evening gown and diamonds when she recorded the song she was singing. Yeah, I am content to hang out in mountains on rainy days.

It’s a good thing because I probably would have realized how stupid it would be for me to drive a motorcycle and went on a cyclo tour. The cyclos promote their tour with testimonies from former foreign customers and photos of waterfalls, scenic views and people from various ethnic groups who smile with missing teeth as if they’ve seen a million National Geographics and faces of the world books. The cyclos say “look! Very poor, but they still smiling. See, very happy. Very interesting, they want to welcome you and talk to you.” I think about 90% of the minority people live in squalor and the other 10% perform their lives in villages that only exists for tourists to gawk at. The Maasai in Kenya, the Tibetan refugees in Mcleod ganj, The Ladahki’s in Leh, I don’t think I can take anymore showcasing of traditional lifestyles.

Lots of pictures from Dalat

I boarded the night bus bound for Saigon with a fever and difficulty breathing but a feeling of relief that if Saigon wasn’t less wet, it would at least be warmer. Saigon was warm and dry, but my body was stuck in the cold. I tried anyway and probably made Jeff and all of the street hawkers want to kill me for being so intolerably miserable and snappy, but like I said, I was going to love Vietnam and no one could stop me! Saigon/Ho chi Minh City, whatever you want to call it, (I’m stuck on Saigon because that’s what everyone in Vietnam called it) has a lot of motorbikes. Everyone rides a motorbike in Saigon and no one wears a helmet or follows any sort of discernable traffic pattern except for stopping at the occasional red light. It weaves and flows in one form like a single celled organism. They make it look so easy.

From Temples and scenes around them

One day I sucked it up and decided to go on a bus tour to Cao Dai temple and the Cu Ciu tunnels. It’s a bit ironic that the most reasonable way to get to these places to get a on a big air conditioned bus with other tourists, which isn’t really my scene, but as an American I wanted to see a remnant of the war that killed 58,000 Americans and more than 5 million Vietnamese only 30 odd years ago. Vietnam is changing quickly. A dreadful war that is still damaging lives in the forms of agent orange, landmines and nightmares becomes a gone past historical event at the Cu Ciu tunnels. Busloads of tourists are ushered in everyday to climb on defeated tanks, admire the ingenuity of torturous traps, play war and top it all off with the opportunity to fire some AK-47s. When something should turn into history from a memory, I can’t really say, but in this case I don’t think it would hurt to be a bit of both.

Cao Dai GREAT Temple

As expected, the markets are a heavenly collage or smells, sparkles, buckles, bangles, delectables, and the divine. Following the narrow pathways that graze through the piles and piles of fairyland kitsch is enough in itself. However, I find it necessary to own things like beaded sandals and black rhinestone bracelets. When I went to Thailand, I saved all my shopping for the last day at the biggest market in Bangkok. About a half hour into it, my wallet was stolen and I went home empty handed. I did the same in Vietnam, but this time my wallet wasn’t stolen so I could buy as many bangles and chunky necklaces as I could carry.

The other thing I saved for the last day was a trip to the hospital. After three days I was still feeling a bit feverish and without energy so I wanted to rule out pneumonia. It wasn’t pneumonia, but with the amount of drugs I was prescribed you would have thought it was Tuberculosis and polio and AIDS. Anyway, they worked pretty quickly and I floated back to Japan, I probably didn’t even need the airplane.

bye bye for now… see! I still have a blog. and will continue to in the future so don’t give up on me.
Love,
julia

Saaakura, Saakura.. la la la la la la la la

Each year, the 桜前線 (Cherry blossom front) predicts when the Sakura (cherry blossoms) will bloom in Japan. At the end of January or February they bloom in Okinawa, make their up to Kyoto and Tokyo at the end of March or beginning of April and finish up in Hokkaido in mid May. Why all the predicting? Sakura trees are carefully planted in parks, in front of business and schools, at Mt. Fuji view points, along highways and all over Japan. Except for one week out of the year, these trees don’t stand out from the other trees, but when it’s Sakura week, they might as well be made of diamonds. Every millimeter of the dark brown tree branches are coated with thick white and pink flowers. Their strong healthy color punctures into the spring’s clear blue sky and when the sun hits they in the right way the seem to glow. They gloriously explode for a short time and then over several days slowly float in the ground piece by piece in a shower of petals. Short and sweet, just like that.

In every city and municipality there is a park that that seems to be underutilized until Cherry blossom time. When those long anticipated flowers appear, everyone flocks to set up a blue tarp under the trees and drink asahi super dry and snack on delicious deep fried festival food (okonomiyaki, takoyaki, yakisoba, kakitori). 花見, hanami, (literally, “watching flowers”) is the name for this custom. In Japan, April marks the beginning of a new year in some respects as the school year begins and new employees enter companies. A welcome party on the grass under a flowery canopy isn’t a bad way to meet your new classmates or colleagues. I did hanami with my English club at my high school and also had a special hanami school lunch with one of my elementary schools in our parking lot. (It was lovely attempting to chat with the new first graders who’s kid speak isn’t really any recognizable language.)

However, it’s too bad that people don’t flock to the park on every single nice day to hang out and get loaded, but given the meaning of sakura to the Japanese the view of life, it seems appropriate. Everything is fleeting and nature’s decisions must be accepted and appreciated. But does that really mean that except for one weekend a year, it’s better to spend your weekends working and running club activities rather than partying in the sunshine? I don’t know about that…

This year, I got to experience Sakura, not once or twice, but three times. My parents came to visit from at the end of March and we visited Tokyo and Kyoto where luckily, sakura were in full bloom! (満開！！！) Every single blossom has its 15 seconds of fame with a camera phone, as year after year, people get the close up shot. A close up shot of a cluster of blossoms in front of a heavenly array of more and more, and maybe a pond, bridge, shrine or large mountain in the background to complete it. But really, there are lots of different styles.. I experimented with the sweeping views, the abstract shots, the portraits.. oh the possibilities.

Classic Shot in Tokyo

Samuari Joe in Ueno Park

juria chan in Ueno Park

Kyomizu dera in Kyoto

In Sakata, nearing their end

this is so retro I think

Sakata is so beautiful

Today

Is my birthday.. just thought you wanted to know…

STUFF FACE!!!

今日は寿司の日！

Once a week, Katey and I and recently my best J pal Yuki walk to the neighborhood kaiten sushi joint and delightfully let all of our frustrations, worries and annoyances be dashed away by raw fish and cold sticky rice.  I’m at school with nothing to do right now, but I’ve been in a pretty good mood all day remembering that 今日は寿司の日！　Kyou wa sushi no hi!  It’s sushi day!

First we’ll insist on walking to truly appreciate the warmth of the miso soup and ocha (green tea).  We like our miso the same way, mostly soup with just a little bit of fishy bits (bones, brains, shrimp head with eyes… You get used to it and this stuff actually becomes desirable… more flavor) Let out a sigh, take out our hashi (we bought our own chopsticks to save the word from the horror of “wabashi” or wooden chopsticks), prepare the shouyu (soy sauce) and shouga (ginger).　Look at each other and ask, should we have a beer? Think of all the reasons we deserve a beer and order. “生ビール三つお願いしますーーー．“I like to start with 三　巻き、three kinds of rolls. Six pieces, two pieces of raw tuna, 2 pieces of natto and 2 pieces of cucumber. I can usually find this on the conveyor belt. The cucumber with a sprinkle of sesame seeds is refreshing, the tuna is soft and practically melts away and the natto with all its fermented strength is somewhere on that thin line between being delicious and putrid. Two pieces is enough. Maybe I need another plate of just kappa maki (cucumber roll).

By now we’ve divulged the details of our days, Katey and I both live alone and Yuki’s husband is a doctor who isn’t around much so we’ve become accustomed to keeping our days and their details to ourselves. It’s nice to share… I miss it sometimes. If I see some salmon nigiri (rice rectangles with a slice of raw salmon laid on top) I probably grab that, if not, I might be time to order 焼き鮭巻き, yaki sake maki, Japanese it’s a mouth full and I insist on saying slowly and perfectly. It’s simply a grilled salmon roll. The aroma and juices of the warm salmon seep into the surrounding rice a little bit to make it especially delicious.

We’ve probably delved into commiserating about school if it’s been a bad day. If it’s been a good day we might have a well mannered thoughtful conversation about our students, this country’s education system, starting NGO’s, the positive and negative health effects of coffee or any other topic we’re currently interested in. The sushi place is a good place to talk. The customers sit in close proximately facing each other (as everyone sits along the circular conveyor belt) but everyone is completely focused on their own eating place and what to eat next. I feel anonymous. I forget that there is any obvious difference the rest of the customers and myself. And there is no hurry, you can eat as much or as little as you want at any pace you want. Going once a week (or more) the ritualistic nature of it all begins to feel more and more comforting. I know how to order everything on the menu, I know what it’s going to taste like, probably more so than everyone else there. I am free to unapologetically relax, sit and slowly ponder the wonders of the universe with Katey and Yuki.

If my stomach is feeling particularly empty I’ll go for aburi B next, three pieces of nigiri. Ever so slightly grilled, tuna, egg (sweetened), and shrimp splattered with a curry mayonnaise, not exactly Japanese through and through but then neither am I. It’s so rich and soft it feels sinful, but it’s not. It’s fish rice and a little bit of mayonnaise… you can do a lot worse. And then I’m pretty full, but I can’t neglect inari. Fried sweetened tofu pockets stuffed with rice on a bright pink 90円 plate. I have to finish this or else I’ll be dreaming about it. 御馳走様でした！　Gochi sou sama deshita! It was a feast!  (It’s not really translatable but it basically is said after eating to express appreciation for a meal).
We’ve had fun, we don’t want it to end… It’s off to the konbini* for some chocolate.. and maybe some wine.

*convenience store. There is one every five feet in Japan where you can get every unhealthy treat your heart could ever desire.

Happy Wedding!

I went to my friend, Ayu’s, wedding this weekend. I bought a new expensive dress for the occasion but it was nothing compared with Ayu’s THREE different wedding dresses. First there was a traditional Japanese, followed by a Western style gown and then a pinky rosey fluff ball reminiscent of Glinda’s get up. It was a big event.. here are some pictures!

dressed up for the local train

me and katey

Japanese

Western

Fairylandish

Hee Haw Country Girl!

A few weeks ago I went to visit my buddy Danielle in Nagoya. Nagoya is southwest of Tokyo and as I opted to save some money and take non-express trains all the way there it took no less than 15 hours from Sakata. Oh but it was so very worth it. Reconnecting with such a good friend after such a long time of not seeing each other gave me a lot of comfort and happiness. Also, as Sakata is without a doubt smack dab in the middle of the countryside, going to a big city in Japan is like going to a different country. Being quite isolated and focused on my life here, I often forget that there is more to Japan than the Shonai plain so when I make it somewhere new it’s quite exciting. Seeing how Danielle lived in this kind of Japan was really interesting to me and I couldn’t help but think how different my life would have been if I were living and working in one of the big cities. Thinking about what I appreciate about the city and then why being a country girl really isn’t so bad.

As one of only a baby’s handful of foreigners in Sakata, the first thing that always strikes me in Tokyo or Nagoya is how many other foreigners there are. I am always curious when I see a new face that’s not Japanese and have an urge to go and talk to him or her and find out what he or she is doing in my tiny corner. When I step off the train in Nagoya catch non-Japanese from every angle it’s a bit shocking at first as I still have that urge to commune with every single one of them. This presence or non-presence of foreigners obviously affects the way your viewed in your community and both situations have good and bad points.

In the city, you stand out as a foreigner, but you’re just another foreigner and nothing special or new. In the country you stand out and then people remember you as an individual too. The man who develops my film, the women I buy tea from, the post office crew and the construction worker that yells OHAYO to me every morning, they all know my name. I don’t mind the naked conversations in the onsen that without fail include the questions of where I’m from, what I’m doing here and if I can speak Japanese (these conversations are always in Japanese mind you). If people are curious, let them ask, it’s better than being awkwardly stared at. The random invitations to give speeches or be present at events from people I don’t even know that know about my presence here. My claim to fame in Sakata is my Michael Jackson dance, I was actually being contracted to perform it at Christmas parties and I’m expecting an invitation from the Rotary club before the year is out. And then the invitations from people you know too, teachers, friends, and friends of friends. In the city, it’s not uncommon to have a house too small to host anyone so it’s my impression that these sorts of dinner invitations don’t occur as frequently. I think I’m invited to have dinner at someone’s home at least twice a month. A cultural experience indeed.

But being just another foreigner does sound nice sometimes. Those cold looks that don’t disappear even after a cheery “konnichi wa” can really cut into me. The realization that sometimes when I get invited out no one really wants to get to know me; they just want me to play the role of token foreigner. Of course I want to make Japanese friends, but it seems to be a bit difficult no matter where one lives. In the city, one has the chance to meet lots of people from around the world who are in Japan for many different reasons other than teaching English. (not that I haven’t fallen truly madly deeply in love with my fellow ALTs in Sakata and Yamagata). In two days in Nagoya I met a Brazilian fellow who couldn’t really speak English so we communicated in Japanese (it made the language feel more real than usual), and someone from Tanzania who had that laugh that can only come from a true sense of joy that I’ve noticed and loved in so many people I’ve met from that area of the world.

The city in general feels much more connected with the rest of the world through the variety of people that inhabit it, the products available and the amount of English spoken and written everywhere. I realized, if I lived in a city with a little bit of effort, I could continue my life as it was before I came. Have a bagel for breakfast, go to a coffee shop and read, go to an art museum, take a class at a yoga studio, walk through a park, drink a beer that is not Sapporo or Asahi (never have any need to learn Japanese). It’s a good life (not the Japanese part) and I miss it sometimes, but I suppose it’s not so bad to mix things up a bit.

In the city you feel closer to the rest of the world, but in the country you feel closer to the land you’re standing on. The region’s history, cultural events, dialects and of course food specialties all make themselves quite obvious out here. As for the local agricultural products, the rice is delicious and much of the produce is local. When a particular fruit is in season, it’s basically pouring out of the supermarket and all the little shops on the street, but that doesn’t really matter because half of the people you know are related to someone who is a farmer so you find pears in your mailbox, persimmons on your doorstep or melons on your desk at school. Not only fruit though, one of my favorite teachers at school regularly gives me carrots and I’ve been given pounds and pounds of potatoes. Shonai ben, the local dialect is the way to win hearts. Becky and I teach Yoga to a group of grandmothers who pay us with a shonai ben lesson and okonomiyaki (this has to be one of my favorite things about my life here). And then there is plenty of hiking, which can quite easily appropriately be followed by an onsen.

So right, I think I’ll make the most out of rice field world and keep the city a special treat. I can appreciate each location more that way.

NAGOYA

Isn’t she lovely, the lovely Miss Danielle

hippies

who cares because they are awesome

sneaking this in there.. Fuji from the train

SAKATA

my neighborhood

my neighbors

6 months down.. 18 (or more) months to go

I don’t really like counting down my life in Japan because it creates the impression that I am at ALT camp rather than living my life here. However, as yesterday marked the sixth month mark and tomorrow is the deadline for re-contracting, the numbers were staring me in the face. So with that I might as well express some reflections, hopes, frustrations, worries about the past sixth months and the future.

Right now, my life doesn’t feel as busy and hectic as it used to. This isn’t because I’ve because I’ve amended my schedule, but because everything takes a bit less effort than it used to. I know my way around Sakata and the surrounding areas with my eyes closed, I can ask questions at the store, train station, the restauraunt without much trouble, I’m better at deciding what I actually want to be doing at any moment. In many ways, I’ve gotten used to living here. I can get by.

At Sakata Chuo Koko teaching although sometimes frustrating due to shy and quiet/loud and rude (either or depending) comes fairly naturally and I definitely have my favorites. However, my relationship with the other teachers is progressing at a Darwinian pace. This is a big point of frustration in my life because whether it’s intentional or not, I often feel like I’m being treated like an inadequate human. (More than twice, I’ve been left in the teacher’s room alone with the lights and heat shut off while all the other teachers have a meeting that they neglect to inform me about.) I feel both conspicuous and invisible. I will keep trying to fit in more at work, but I also try to remember that (luckily) I’m not a Japanese teacher and my work doesn’t have to be life and therefore I can put more energy into integrating myself into my community in other ways.

I desperately want to establish myself in this community to try and wash away that feeling that everything I do is not Japanese and therefore wrong and offensive and unwanted. I think this gut wrenching isolated feeling might be that thing they call “culture shock.” http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Culture_shock. The fact that I have a handful of foreigner close friends who I know intimately, a few Japanese friends that I still don’t know very well and seas of Japanese people around every corner who I don’t know at all makes it too easy to slip into an “us” vs. “them” mentality. I think this is terrible and I want no part of it. I want to know lots of people in Sakata. I want to go to the store and run into people, I want to find my personal favorites restaurants, I think I would kill for a date… As an optimistic person then, I’m convinced that if I keep doing my best and practice patient (yoga should help with that) I will eventually be doing more than just getting by, which took sixth months to achieve in the first place.

Because of all the effort I’ve put in so far, for example, learning Japanese, figuring out how to balance communication with home, snowboarding(!), learning how to drive, learning about all the holidays and the foods associated with them, becoming obsessed with ocha (green tea), forcing myself to sit in a foot onsen (hot spring bath) with a bunch of old farmers for whom I maybe have been the third or fourth non Japanese person they’ve ever seen, it would be a shame to not give these seeds a chance to flower next year. To tell the truth, I didn’t weight the decision to re-contract very carefully. I just made it going on inertia. I miss life in America and feeling confident about my place in the word, but there are so many unique challenges that come with living here that even though I feel like I’m hiding away and unconnected I think I am learning more than kanji characters and the health benefits of various green teas (not to downplay this information by any means!).

So now, let me tell you about this unusual winter. For the first three or four months, I think that the most popular topic of conversation besides “What Japanese foods do you like,” (which will always take the crown) was the terrible winter weather. How a cold wind from Siberia caused a horizontal snowfall to rapidly whip through the streets of Sakata, how people in asahi-mura had to sometimes exit their houses by way of the second floor window because of being trapped in by snow drifts and how the sun shone once of twice. Well, none of this happened this year. Today is January 31st, there is no snow, it’s raining and it’s about 45 degrees F. Before today the sun shone brightly and Mt. Chokai was in full view only half covered with snow. It’s by no means pleasant outside, but it’s by no means winter either. Trust me, although I would have liked to have more opportunities to go snowboarding (last weekend Katey and I turned around when it realized it was over 50 degrees), I am not complaining. It’s still cold enough to enjoy onsens at least.

Aaaahh.. My hobby is going to onsens. I try to go at least twice a week to one of the numerous natural hot spring baths near me. Yamagata prefecture has a lot of volcanic activity and therefore a lot of onsens that have an entrance fee that is less than the cost of a cup of coffee. Which certainly does not mean that they aren’t superb, because they are. It’s so much easier to get clean at the onsens than having to take a shower in my unheated home. If you are not familiar with them, then it might surprise you to learn that is forbidden to enter these public baths any other way than naked. I have never been to a man and women mixed onsen, but I know they exist. Onsens are sometimes a lot of Japanese people really enjoy and take a lot of pride in. No one is really phased by it or shy. Strip, shower and then relax and chat in the bubbling hot water as cold air blows over your head unnoticed. My favorite onsen is halfway up Mount Chokai. I went there on a clear day and looked out on beautiful snow covered mountain scenery while icicles slowly dripped from above me. It was dreamlike.

Well anyway.. here are some pictures.

ME and FRIENDS (for lisa)

Sakata is like this

My hike last weekend. Usually at this time of year, this should be impossible.

The lovely Miss Dorrie