Conquering Death

For a while now, I have had a difficult time trying to think of new, non-generic things to write about in my blog. Japan has become such a large part of my life so I have forgotten how to tell stories from the point of view of a foreigner. When sprinklers come on in the middle of the street to melt the snow--creating icy asphalt rivers--I don't even blink. I have grown accustomed to wacky background music--the Japanese equivalent of "It's a Small World After All"--while shopping, and bad drivers, and cab doors opening on there own.

Last night, however, I was a tourist again.

A friend of mine who is originally from Luxembourg is in fact the only ALT from Luxembourg. This and the fact that there are only a grand total of 14 (registered) people from Luxembourg in Japan means that he is really cool. So cool that a Luxembourgish television crew came to film him at work. They filmed some of the other Luxembourgers (I swear I am not making these words up) as well on their 2-week long stay, but I am acutely aware that he and I are having very different experiences in Japan.

So last night, the friend--let's call him "Lux"-- a Luxembourgish journalist, a Luxembourgish camera man, a Japanese light technician, a Japanese sound technician, a Japanese translator--who incidentally studied English and Spanish for four years in Ohio--and myself decided to hit the town.

Our first stop was one of the best sushi restaurants in my city. Here, the Japanese people thought it would be fun to see what they could get the gaijin to eat. So, we tried it all. Now, I am not new to sushi. I love sushi. I had sushi at my graduation party, and always enjoy a sushi outing. But let me tell you...American sushi is NOT sushi. Sure you have your Maguro, Ebi, and if you're wild you'll have some Tako, but all that is for lightweights. Last night I ate the liver of a light fish (like the deep-sea, glowing fish in "Finding Nemo"), tempura fish testicles (surprisingly good), crab-brain paste, raw octopus, shrimp and squid, a dish that is translated to "Parent and Child," which is a bit of rice with salmon roe on it, wrapped in a slice of salmon...get it? Salmon Eggs and Salmon? It led to my favorite quote/mistranslation of the evening, "I think I'll eat some more children."

Finally, I also consumed Fugu, or Blowfish. This is the fish that an episode of The Simpsons was based on where Homer ordered Fugu, and the chef realized he served the wrong part of the fish and Homer thought he was going to die. This is the fish that if you eat the wrong part, you actually will die, apparently in 2-hours. I think it is safe to say that I am still around, but the preparation of this dish was extraordinary! First, the chef must have a special Fugu license. Then there is a special cutting technique with a special dedicated knife. Finally, all remaining bits of the fish are put into a tin with a key, which is locked up, the key is discarded, and a special removal crew comes and picks up the tin, which has a toxic waste marking. I have to say that while the fish was quite pleasant tasting, the preparation hardly seemed worth the actual meal.

After the seven of us consumed 59 dishes, and 14 drinks--five of which were bottles of sake--"the company" paid (I don't know what company, but man were they getting a raw deal!) for dinner. "The company" then proceeded to pay for several taxi cabs, a bit of gambling at a pachinko parlor, some print club photos, and several rounds at a bar.

The pachinko parlor was unusual to say the least. I had never before been in one, but imagine a Vegas casino, except with Linoleum floors, fluorescent lighting, no free drinks or half-naked women serving them, and only slots with seemingly random objectives. The one which we partook in look similar to the plinko game on The Price is Right. There were a bunch of small silver balls which you poured into the plinko-esq machine with a knob on the right hand side of the machine. If a ball fell into a specific whole at the bottom then the computer-generated wheel on the monitor would spin. Then, if three numbers lined up on the computer-generated wheel, then you won more balls, which I understand can be redeemed for something like a pen. My understanding of this is that gambling for money is technically illegal. So you win a "pen" worth maybe a dollar, then you go to the back of the parlor where you can trade the pen in for prizes, or can "sell" the pen for cash. We didn't win any balls with which we could trade in for pens, but we watched other masters at work. I can't say that I like gambling in America, and enjoyed it even less in the poorly-lit, smoky, loud pachinko parlor in Japan.

Possibly the best and strangest part of the evening were the languages. Lux, and the two Luxembourgers spoke Luxembourgish to each other, occasionally dabbling in French and German. The translator and I spoke to each other in Spanish. The light and sound technicians chatted in Japanese, and whenever anyone wanted to share something with the group, varying levels and accents of English was spoken. Bystanders and on-lookers were puzzled by this happy group, aware that there was more than just English and Japanese were being used. I myself had a strange moment when I realized the Luxembourgers were not speaking Japanese. It has been a while since I have heard a language I didn't understand that wasn't Japanese. I just had a double-take.

Anyway, a good time was had by all...

Generic Update

It is hard to imagine that I am as busy as I am and still feel like there is nothing much to talk about. I can't even remember the last time I had a free evening, let alone weekend.

So, what's been going on? Well, I am taking a web design class which I hope will pay off by making this website more pleasing to the eye, as well as easy for me to update. Also, since I received my less-than-favorable results from my Japanese Proficiency exam (to be exected), I have been intensely studying Japanese. This is not to say that I speak anything even resembling Japanese, but I am studying quite a bit. The thing is, I can generally get by without Japanese, but then I will want to buy something strange at a grocery store, or order off a menu entirely in Japanese and I will say to myself, "I have got to learn Japanese!" So, it's high time I get to studying!

I now go to the gym at least three times a week, which is an interesting experience. I am absolutely the only gaijin at the gym. The trainer--by random chance--speaks pretty good English there and is often very curious about my workout schedule. He'll come over and look at my web printout for the day and say things like, "Is this traditional American woman workout?" or, "Oh, segoi, today you work on [body part]. I like." or, "I think you are taller than Japanese. Machine move for you." or, "Please teach me about woman weight exercise. I think, maybe, man workout okay for [point at some muscle group on body] but not so okay for woman." or my favorite, "Reps and weight is key to muscle. No cardio, only for old ladies." He is really nice, though, and always makes sure I am using the proper technique. He also shows me new exercises for my abs whenever I do crunches on the mats, and encourages me to do, "One more please! Ganbatte!"

As I workout there is always a Japanese soap opera showing. I don't really understand what is going on, but man is it dramatic! Then there are the half dozen or so older men hanging out at the gym who like to ask me questions in Japanese. I sometimes can make out what they are asking, but most of the time I say things like, "Ah, eto ne, gomen nasai, wakarimasen," which is, "Um, I'm sorry, I don't understand/I don't know." They look sad that I can't answer their questions, but this doesn't actually keep them from asking more questions. In fact, I think my lack of Japanese actually encourages them to ask more questions. So they follow me around the--very small--gym as I move from machine to machine seeing if there isn't one question I can answer. Maybe I should invest in headphones????

One of the major things in my life now is the elections for National Office for the JET program. I am running for our area representative. It's not nearly as big a deal as it sounds, but I am really excited about the possibilities. My main functions would be to make sure the prefectures in my area get their paperwork in on time, but I would also have the opportunity to do some event planning type stuff. You can read my platform for the elections here. It is hard to sell yourself when you are only given the space of a half page, with the added limitation of having it all translated into Japanese, but it's worth a go.

Finally, the school year in Japan is coming to an end. The Japanese academic year runs from April to March, and right now all my 9th graders are in exams trying to get into high school, and all my 12th graders are out of school already. Apparently they get all of February and March off to, "prepare for the real world." This is fine y me as it means that classes with them are cancelled, but I think it is interesting that they get this time off. Most of them can be found shopping and hanging out in the city on any given weekday. A couple are applying for college, but most are done. They may get a job in the next year or so, but working at a low academic school, these kids may never be prepared for the real world.

But, as nothing in Japan can begin or end without a ceremony, I have nine graduations coming up, with nine farewell parties with nine enkais. At the very least these are time consuming and expensive, but in addition they are a logistical nightmare and a pain in my side. Each school is different, but most have a departing "party" for the graduating class (possibly the lamest excuse for a party yet), a separate (stupidly long) graduation ceremony, then a (expensive but often fun) drinking party for the teachers. Yes, March will be a fun month!

Anyway, yes, mostly boring stuff going on these days, but I can't keep failing to write at least once a week!

Winter Games

One of the things that I hadn't realized I missed out on as a kid was winter. It wasn't warm in the winters where I am from, but it never snowed and the weather almost never prohibited us from doing anything--not that the Japanese hault anything for extreme conditions here, despite my pleading. But, for example, by this time of year I would still be outside playing softball as I did all year because there would be no severe rain or snow to keep me from doing so. Here I wouldn't dream of playing softball on the white covered field, or even consider running on slick ice rivers that were once streets. However, I am not nearly as inactive as I would have predicted given the conditions. Instead, I have been exposed to new athletics and activities that keep me from turning into a potato.

My new favorite sport is snowboarding. This is not to say that I am good at it, but just that I do it often and enjoy it greatly. It started with a trip to Nagano Olympic Village where I paid the equivalent of $100 for a full-day "English" snowboarding lesson. English is in quotations because I am not sure you could quite call it English. Some of my favorite lines include, "Okay, challenge. Let's use imaginative," or, "Down is up when you knees bend not," or, "You better when no doing so let's trying none," and my favorite, "Okay, when fall you hurt. Go down stand." The instructors gestures and body language helped a lot and, I actually did feel I got my money's worth in the end, but some of the things she said slayed me.

I spent the entire day looking like a snowball gathering speed as I tumbled down the hill. The next day I could not move so I went sledding down the ski slopes...yes that's right, SLEDDING. I carried a whimpy plastic sled with me up the ski lift and sledded down the hill with skiers and snowboarders to what I was sure would be my doom, but in the end was a great deal of fun. Apparently in Japan this is rather common, as most of my teachers asked me if I did it, but I was amazed. All I could think was that it was a lawsuit waiting to happen--I guess I am still an American afterall.

Since then however, I have been at the shcool that is very near a ski resort and once a week all classes are cancelled for the day for the kids to enjoy the delights of snow. Everyone brings their skiis and I bring my snowboard and we spend the day laughing and playing in the snow. Most of the laughing is at me going end over end down the mountain--a fact which has led to many crude drawings on the blackboard--but I am slowly getting better. Now I am even snowboarding down the hill after school to get to the bus stop. It is strangely faster and safer, another thing I would not have guessed to be true.

Also at this school the kids have fashioned a huge snow hill in the middle of the playground so at lunch we can go sledding. Watching kids topple onto each other riding small sheets of plastic allows for endless entertainment. We build snowmen at the bus stop--the kids are convinced that I am crazy when I try to put a third ball on the snowman; in Japan snowmen are only made up of two balls--which is usually followed by a snowball fight. Possibly more amazing to me is that all this is done with the kids in their uniforms...meaning most of them are still wearing shorts.

Now, I may not be the best judge of winter wear, as evidenced by the three pairs of pants plus thermals I am wearing right now, but I can't imagine that shorts are appropriate. The kids are so unconcscious of comfort it amazes me. They were these rubber boots--they call them gumboots here but I think they are just golashes--then will climb through the snow, inevitably getting their shoes stuck and lost in the snow, so they will crawl around in socks and shorts, bare-handed, throwing snowballs, soaking wet...Crazy!

Anyway, I am freezing but I am having fun, two things I would never have thought would go together.

There Is No Warm...Only Cold

Since I have returned, I have tried to force myself not to write a blog about the weather. Yes, it's cold here, but I figured no one would want to hear about, and also that I could just muscle through it. It has now, however, reached a point that it could reasonably be called a "cultural experience."

In addition to being from America, I am more specifically from California. I can count on one hand the number of times I can remember seeing snow, and only once where snow was falling. So, when I returned to Japan and there was a dusting of snow on the ground, I knew I wasn't really prepared for living in snow. I would call my friends everytime it was snowing to verify that it was indeed safe to leave the house--would I melt? Can I wear jeans? Do I need special shoes, or something? Will the snow, like, do anything to me?

But, living in the city, it would turn into slosh within a day if it stuck to the ground at all, and it was all very novel in my world.

Then, I started going up into the mountains to school. The snow there falls constantly, but in a gentle sort of way. There is a good five feet or so of snow on the ground, but up until last week, all still sort of new and friendly and enchanting. I would stare out the window for hours watching the snow fall, wondering how something so animated could be so silent, captivated by the grace and mystery of it all.

Then, this weekend came and (using the voice of Janice from Friends), OH MY GOD!

So, I thought snow was snow. I was not only getting used to it, but beginning to like it. The way it dances as it falls in a random pattern of ups and downs and loops. I didn't know, for example, that you could have snow and lightning and thunder. I had never seen snow react with wind, or really harsh temperatures. Snow can be light and fluffy and magical, or it can be the size of marbles, and nearly the same firmness. Pellets, powder, varying degrees of sticky or wet....ick. This weekend a blizzard came in...I was not prepared.

I also love the way most of the folks around here like making fun of me, the Californian. They just don't get that as we get deeper into the dead of winter, each day is the worst weather I have ever been in. EVER. Every time there is a storm, it's the worst storm I have ever seen!

The best part about all of the cold is the way I heat my apartment...in that I DON'T. I can heat one room (which I don't generaly leave), and the rest of the house is an ice box...literally. As I walk through the door I suspect inwardly that it is actually colder in my apartment than it is outside. Not only can I see my breath in my apartment as I breath, as of last night I can see my cat's breath as she breathes.

It started that I could just leave food out overnight because my kitchen is like a fridge, but now I have to put anything liquid into the refridgerator to keep it from freezing. That's right, I can make ice on my counters. Did you know that olive oil can freeze? It was a surprise to me too! I suppose if I looked at the bright side I could say my apartment now has infinite freezer space.

On Monday I was on my way to school when one of the roofs decided to release the snow on it's roof. I was hit by an avalanche of snow. It was not a pleasant experience. My leg twisted, and first I was cold, then I was cold and wet. All four pairs of pants I was wearing (yes, I wear four pairs) were completely soaked through.

I really think that people should be placed according to where they come from. California; coastal, warm, sunny. Where I live; coastal, freezing, has bears. Actually, I suppose that is one of the good things that can be said for the snow...all the bears are in hibernation.

I wish I could hibernate...