Goodnight, grandad

At the end of June my amazing, funny and brilliant grandad died a year after my grandma. The post that I wrote about my grandma was read at her funeral, so it seems right to share with you the piece I wrote for my grandad.

During grandad’s lifetime, I wonder why he didn’t patent ‘grandad jokes’. At home when someone tells a groaner of a joke, there’s always someone in the room to cry out ‘that’s a grandad joke!’

Grandma and grandad, it probably comes as no surprise, were very big on manners and taught my cousins and I from an early age to ask if we could leave the table at the end of a meal. I would say to them ‘please may I leave the table?’ Grandad, with a grin, would say ‘as long as you don’t take it with you.’ So I learned to say ‘please may I leave the table here and go away?’ much to his amusement. And I did say it every time, because if ever I forgot, he would pounce!

His sense of humour and his kind nature made him a wonderful teacher. Maths lessons at the living room table with grandad were not a chore and he would simplify things and make jokes along the way. When I was there with my cousins he would alternate the lessons with play, taking us with him and grandma to Rutland water. We would play at the parks and maybe have ice cream if it was a warm day. Through games and lessons, scrabble and crosswords, we learned with grandma and grandad what we didn’t learn at school and it helped us to do well.

And when I was eight, grandad gave me perhaps the greatest gift of all; he began teaching me to play the piano. I can remember clearly the first scale that he taught me, and the thrill of each new book as I improved over time. One Christmas he came to my hometown early in the morning to hear me play the keyboard in church. It was a piece we had both worked hard on because it was tricky for me. He wrote the fingering numbers above the difficult notes and listened to me practise over and over. That morning in church I was nervous in front of the eyes of the school and local residents, but I played as if only to grandad. When his eyesight meant he couldn’t drive to our house as regularly, I had to keep up the piano myself. I realised that the grounding my grandad had given me meant I could keep improving on my own, so I played through my GCSEs, wrote some of my own pieces, and learned to play the pieces that defined me. Through university I would sneak off to the practise rooms late at night and belt out exam stress on the old pianos to keep me sane. The gift of music that grandad gave me sums up perfectly the role he played in my life. He taught me well and gave me the tools I needed, and when it was time for me to go it alone he encouraged me along. Like the duets we played where he would give an emphatic nod to my ten year old self when it was my turn to join in, he and grandma urged me along with cheers and guidance.

He never let me feel alone. When I announced that I was moving to Italy at eighteen, his immediate response was ‘give me your address and we can write to each other.’ He became my pen friend and his worldly advice arrived in the form of letters. When I confessed that I was struggling to cook for myself, I returned from an afternoon in Milan to find a parcel on my bed. Grandad had sent me a student vegetarian cookbook. We often wrote of my failures and successes (mostly failures!) in the kitchen. In the meantime he was busy learning vegetarian recipes himself, and learned to make a mean veggie burger. Our letters continued through university and I have kept every single one.

Grandad at the other end of the phone was always ready to laugh along with my exploits when I became a teacher in Japan, whilst always offering the right piece of advice at the right time. I feel closer to him for having been a teacher the time I was there, and it certainly deepened my respect for him. His lesson ideas inspired me, like they also inspired my aunt, and his tales of being a teacher tickled me. I wish I could have seen his class the day he announced to everyone ‘right! Today we’re going to count the blades of grass in the school field!’

My grandad was a wise, kind and gentle man. He was my role model and my spiritual guide. I owe him everything I am today. From maths and music, to love and devotion, his lessons on life have guided me from the little girl I was to the woman I am today. Thank you grandad, I will never forget you.

Exciting times!

Just recently I have had such a wave of good news from people I know. In the past couple of months a friend of mine has made the move to Paris in order to fulfil her dream of living la belle vie. The weather is so stunning in England at the moment that I can well imagine how warm and beautiful Paris is right now. Hopefully I'll be able to make it over there to see her whilst she is there. Maybe if I drop a few well-placed hints in my new job this summer they will send me on a business trip..? We can but hope!

A few weeks back, my cousin was whisked off to Paris by her boyfriend as a birthday surprise. Whilst there they visited the pont des arts, where he dropped to one knee and proposed to her. How romantic is that!? I'm so thrilled for her!

Then, last week, a friend announced that in Paris (anyone noticing a running theme here?) her boyfriend had also proposed to her! Paris must truly be a magical city!

Aside from that, another cousin of mine and another friend are getting married this summer too, so 2012 really feels like a year of beginnings and exciting new chapters. I can't express just how much happiness I wish on everyone who has shared their wonderful news with me recently, and I am so excited at the prospect of so many weddings!

Weekend with friends - Norfolk

This weekend I set off for Norfolk to spend a couple of days with a group of friends from University. I try as hard as I can to see friends I made at University as often as possible, but it's difficult to organise to see more than one friend at a time. This occasion was pretty special though, as there were nine of us in total getting together for the weekend. Such an event probably only occurs once every three to six months!

I left early on Saturday morning and spent more than three hours whizzing through the countryside before meeting up with my boyfriend at the train station. The others had arrived on Friday evening at the flat of our Norfolk-dwelling hostess so we hopped on a bus to make our way to them. I don't quite know what I was expecting Norwich to look like exactly, but it was prettier than I think I imagined. Though Norwich isn't exactly a seaside town it definitely had a holiday-like feel to it. The weather was glorious all weekend long too, so it all felt a bit like the post-exam days of University which were spent doing not a great deal in the sunshine.

After catching up for a couple of hours we split into two cars and headed to the imaginatively named 'Wells next to the sea'. The beach at low tide stretches out for miles and felt eerily deserted at this time of year. To demonstrate, here is a picture of a happy ginger dog I spotted. 

A row of individually decorated beach huts sat on one of the highest points, and right in the middle of the beach was a great sand dune. For a while we stood by the water's edge and mourned the apparent beaching of a great many starfish. They were huge! Here is a picture of one against my foot.

There were so many of them. Well, not as many as in 2009 when a storm brought hundreds of them to shore and turned the beach into a starfish graveyard.. but more than I was expecting to see.

After this we went to play by the dune. Or rather, the boys spent about an hour throwing themselves off the top of it into the soft sand below. This was followed by a few beach games, then fish and chips by the harbour, then ice cream before heading back. It was such a good day! We topped it off by heading into town in the evening for a few drinks. As it turns out, Norwich has plenty of places to eat and drink.

On Sunday, we had a cooked breakfast and wandered over to the Plantation Garden. Here is a photo to give you an idea of how beautiful it was.

It was so warm and sunny and peaceful. Perhaps the best part is that it was full of mating frogs! A sign at the entrance announced 'WARNING! FROGS UNDERFOOT!' Two metres beyond this we were indeed surrounded by frogs, the majority in pairs, hopping and ribbiting around our feet. 

It felt a bit surreal if I'm honest. Though not as surreal as when a group of grown women arrived with dolls and proceeded to have a picnic. At around the time they started taking pictures of the dolls next to the frogs, we decided to head back to the flat to get ready to go home. It was just what I needed, and I'm already looking forward to seeing everyone again.. though it may well be the summer before we organise the next trip!

一年後

On the afternoon of the 11th March last year, I was in the staff room studying kanji. The staff room was completely empty because a teachers' meeting was taking place in Japanese elsewhere, so I had been left to my own devices. It was a cold day, and I remember this because the kerosene heater nearest to my desk had been left on. On top there was a large kettle of water. As the water boiled on top of the heater, the steam re-humidified the room.

When the earthquake happened, it didn't feel like an earthquake to me. Trying to focus on the squiggly characters in my exercise book, I suddenly felt very light-headed. It was a short-lived sensation, but a confusing one. It was not unlike standing up too quickly and getting headrush. Very shortly afterwards the feeling intensified and I felt as if I were on a boat on a choppy sea. This feeling lasted longer and seemed to come from nowhere. I know now that I felt seasick because the East coast of Japan was dropping into the ocean after the earthquake, the force of which knocked the Earth on its axis by about 10cm. Ten minutes later my mum called, hysterical, and the reality of what was happening far away started to dawn on me. A year ago today, 20,000 people lost their lives to the earthquake and tsunami of Tohoku.

Today I'm remembering all those who died, all the families torn apart, all the homes and livelihoods destroyed. Many areas still lie in ruins, many families are still displaced, and so many people will never be able to bury their loved ones. A year has passed, but so much still needs to be done.Please keep Japan in your thoughts and prayers. 頑張れ、日本。頑張れ、東北。

Far from Japan

Hello everyone! It's me again. I have wanted to write a post for a while but been unable to start one. The truth is, I often feel like I don't have enough interesting material to update a blog anymore, now that I'm back in the UK and far from Japan.

Sigh.

My posts did sort of fizzle out towards the end of my year in Hyogo, as I concentrated heavily on getting out and doing as much as possible, eating as much cake as I could source, singing in karaoke bars, visiting friends I wondered if I would ever see again.. Then, when I found myself back in the UK in August, the reverse culture shock hit me like a smack in the face from a confused sumo wrestler.

England is cold in the summer, isn't it? Out came the long sleeved tops, back in the cupboard went the sun cream. I sat surrounded by boxes of stuff I had spent a small fortune shipping home (because every item of stationery, every nik-nak, every postcard, book and cat ornament was essential to my recovery process.) Every day my heart ached for Japan, so I decided to make myself busy and focus on the future. Away from the safe and solid structure of the JET programme, the prospect of having to apply for work and create a new direction for myself was beyond terrifying. Every day I scoured sites, tailored applications, updated my CV and tweaked application letters. I may well write a post in the near future on the job hunt because times are hard and I hope it might encourage others in the same position. In short though, I eventually secured a place on a London graduate placement from summer 2012. Hooray! Until that time comes I am doing admin work through a temp agency to tide me over.

I have also been away pretty much every weekend since I have been home with my folks. I visit my boyfriend mostly, but also travel up and down the country to see friends who have been scattered like seeds with the graduate winds of change. Oxford, London, Norwich, Stafford, Birmingham.. I spend most of my free time on trains!

And so, dear readers, my journey continues! I'm still young (relatively) and at the start of my career, still trying to visit places and try new things, and though I'm not in the super-exciting orient anymore, you are more than welcome to follow me on my journey as I try to make sense of things. I will try to keep things interesting for you as I prepare for my move to London and, as ever, include as many photos as possible of cool things I find on the way. Welcome to the start of my new chapter, far from Japan.

Gokiburi ahoy-hoy

Top of the list of things I won’t miss about Japan – bugs. There’s no need for me to expand on my contempt for giant asian hornets, I’ve probably made that one fairly clear. The list extends to, but is not limited to, mukade (poisonous centipedes), jumping spiders (I didn’t know they existed until one heart-attack-inducing encounter), and cockroaches.

Last night I was on Skype to my boyfriend. It was late, the weather outside was hot and rainy, and inside I was quite comfortable with the air-conditioning on (low, I might add.) In these hot and humid times, insects often seek refuge in the cool and dry apartments of unsuspecting ALTs, such as myself.

As we were talking, I was suddenly aware of a loud buzzing noise. The image of me in the webcam showed me a small black object zooming around behind me. Naturally I assumed it was a giant asian hornet, uttered a stream of profanities and ran into the entry way. As I slammed the bedroom door behind me, I heard my boyfriend’s confused voice calling ‘hello?’

Time slowed to a halt once again. I had no hope of killing something so big and poisonous, and even if I did, the smell of its carcass would attract its hornet mates to finish me off. I pressed my face up against the glass and realised it was no longer flying at the light. It was probably biding its time, waiting for me to wander back in. I opened the door a touch and peered in. I could see it on the ceiling by the light, edging its way in my direction. I stared hard at it and realised it didn’t have the body markings of a hornet.. In fact, it was simply a very large cockroach.

Cockroaches in Japan are bigger than I imagined cockroaches in general to be. Contrary to European cockroaches (which I have never seen), they are attracted to light. Given that I am on the ground floor, I always have a roach motel (known as ‘gokiburi hoi hoi’) placed on the floor by the food cupboard, though it’s never caught anything. On the outside of it are pictures of happy cockroaches encouraging their friends to come in. There are windows, and on the top you can even see a miniature weather vane. Part of the problem, in my humble opinion, is that the roach motel is too damn small. Every cockroach I have found since being here has been too big to conceivably squeeze through the paltry entrance.

So I spent the next ten minutes or so either running back into the entry as my visitor began flying around again, or venturing back in, trying not to lose sight of it. I picked up a large, novelty plastic baseball bat and considered knocking it down, but they are near impossible to kill through brute force alone and I didn’t want it to run under the fridge (the fridge is in my bedroom.) I put down the bat and picked up the deet. Then I changed my mind again. ‘You need to hit it!’ cried the voice from my computer. ‘No wait, I’ll look it up!’ Thus I awaited further instruction.

‘It says here you should use soapy water. Cockroaches breathe through their skin so it will suffocate.’

Easy then. All I had to do was cover the ceiling with soapy water. No, wait..

This was not going to be an easy battle, but I needed to win it before I went to bed. If I could catch it in the plastic box I had just noticed on the kitchen surface, then I could put soapy water in there. The cockroach was twitching a little now as it walked across the top of the light. It approached the edge, peeked over, began to climb down.. then dropped down onto my dirty laundry. On its back, with its legs in the air, it seemed fairly dead.

‘Don’t fall for it! It’s a trick!’ warned my boyfriend. I too knew this was all a sham. Cockroaches are clever. Stronger than samurai, stealthy as ninja, invincible like the phoenix, they never die.

So I slammed my box over it and trapped it there with a book before it could change its mind. Sure enough, a minute later it began to twitch and struggle and beat against the side of the box. Up close, I could see its beady little eyes, its forked feet, its nasty little mouth. I fetched some soapy water and poured it in, closing the box before it could escape.

The cockroach then started to swim in circles around the box. I had hoped it would be a quick death because I hate the idea of causing something to suffer. It’s one thing to kill an insect, but I don’t like drawing out the process. It swam around for ages before finally giving up. Then I ran to the bathroom and flushed it down the toilet.

When I finally got to bed last night, I was shattered. Today I’ll have to sterilise everything in the kitchen. Again. And you know what? Even now I’m not convinced that it’s dead. I imagine it to have a mini scuba set, waiting in the bowels of the toilet to resurface and take its revenge..

Fuji Part I: A False Start

It’s not really the done thing to come to Japan and not climb Mount Fuji. As a bare minimum you’re supposed to see it at least once, but with the mountain being notoriously stealthy and often hidden by cloud, it can be difficult even to take a decent picture. Obviously climbing a mountain (or volcano, if we want to be precise) is tough mentally and physically, so I admit having major hesitations in the weeks before our trip this weekend. I’m not the fittest of creatures and have had problems with my back in the past. On the other hand though, I am fairly lightweight, and excitable at times (a certain level of energy and bounce is required), so with a lot of encouragement I was coaxed into the expedition.

Our team consisted of three people. It’s a nice little number, on reflection. Enough to take care of each other and keep it interesting, but not so many that being in a group becomes a bother. This was lucky as things did not go to plan at the start and we had to change our route. So in our team there were two guys, my kiwi friend and an English friend, and myself. On Saturday I met up with the kiwi, Simon, at Shin-Osaka station to catch the shinkansen (bullet train) to Shin-Fuji.

As Simon quite rightly pointed out, you often forget just how cool the shinkansen is. For that reason, here is a picture for you to enjoy.

I know, the picture doesn’t convey the coolness. Just trust me when I say the bullet train is awesome.

Getting into the station was a bit of a trial because our tickets didn’t work at the barriers. When I bought the tickets the night before, the man working at the booth forgot to give me the second part of our tickets and we had to pay 735 yen to make up the difference. I still don’t know what for. We fooled around on the platform taking pictures of us in explorer poses with our backpacks until the train pulled in, where Rob was already waiting for us in the non-reserved section. (For the record, I’m never buying a reserved seat on the bullet train again, there is no need and it’s a waste of money.) We changed at Shizuoka and arrived at Shin-Fuji at around 2pm. The next plan was to buy return tickets to Fujinomiya fifth station, from which was reportedly the shortest journey to the summit.

[By the way, people don’t often start from the foot of the mountain, mostly people start from the fifth station at about 2400m. If it sounds like a bit of a flake-out, I urge you to try from the first station! It can’t be done in a day!]

Except that when we went to buy the tickets, the nice ladies (with very good English skills) at the tourist information office informed us that the Fujinomiya trail was officially closed from the eighth station onwards until the 14th July. They told us that it was our choice to continue past the eighth station, but as it was officially closed there would be no mountain huts or first aid stations open. Simon rang around his friends and heard that some of them had done the trail the week before, and one was going to do it the same night as us, but I was really sceptical. If the weather suddenly turned bad, as it can do in the mountains, we would have no shelter to turn to. If one of us got hurt, getting help would be that much harder. The boys really wanted to stick to the original plan but on seeing how reluctant I was, they agreed to take the different route. I’m really grateful for that as it did complicate things a lot just to give me peace of mind.

The other route, the Kawaguchiko trail, was on the other side of the volcano and added a few hours extra to our journey and 2500 yen. We first took a two hour bus to Kawaguchiko train station, then the train two stops to the recently renamed Fujisan station. The train was covered in pictures of a cartoon Mount Fuji in its various different moods.

From Fujisan station we took one more bus for an hour up to the Kawaguchiko fifth station. I managed to take this picture from the bus, but it doesn’t really convey just how big Fuji was or how daunting a prospect it seemed to try and climb it.

With that, we reached the fifth station at around 7pm and changed into more appropriate clothes. We relaxed for about an hour, had some water and snacks (we had been eating more or less all day, mostly carbohydrate snacks like onigiri, as well as a take-away from Mos burger), and reorganised our rucksacks. At 8.15pm, we set off into the darkness, torches at the ready, and basically no idea what to expect.