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.

Fuji Part II: The Climb

The first thing I should mention is that there are no lights on the trail up Mount Fuji (apart from outside the mountain huts). Our torches were indispensable, so I was pretty annoyed when my torch broke about an hour from the top. The night air was much cooler than I’ve become accustomed to in Kansai, though we were warm pretty much up to about 3200m because of the exertion. The night view was spectacular. The city lights flickered below us, and even as we started the trek we were aware of just how incredibly high up we were. We were already above the clouds and for us the night sky was perfectly clear. The photos don’t do it justice.

Initially the path seemed to be leading downhill, which led to a little self doubt over directions. Soon though, it turned into a much steeper ascent, which was a mixture of cobbled rock pathways and sand and loose rock pathways. Every once in a while we would stop for a moment to swig water and sip energy drinks. For about an hour and a half the trek was relatively simple and we were making good time, covering parts of the track in two thirds of the forecast time.

Then it became a touch more challenging, involving scrambles over steep paths of rock. This was particularly difficult with a torch as two hands would have been much more beneficial! It was at these moments that I became most light-headed. With the extra effort of climbing and the air being considerably thinner, it was pretty tiring. I found it best to take these sections quickly though, even though I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone else. I find that scrambling up things is easier with a bit of momentum.

We passed the sixth station and the seventh station, resting momentarily here and there to catch our breath. We didn’t rest for too long though, as the sweat on our backs became very cold very quickly. At the eighth station we took a bathroom break and had some more snacks (I chowed down a whole chocolate bar). We turned the corner to find yet another wall of rocks with a huge queue of people climbing excruciatingly slowly up one side of it. On the other side were less hand grips but there was more space, so we threw ourselves up it and sped past the crowds. This is just as well, because later on huge queues of people meant many didn’t get to the top in time for sunrise.

I didn’t suffer too badly from the high altitude. Right near the top my stomach started to feel a little bloated (the way it does when I travel by plane), but apart from that I was really lucky. Simon suffered with a headache most of the way to the top but took some painkillers and persevered.

We continued to power on up with intermittent breaks. Signs which told us how high up we were could sometimes be encouraging (‘look how far we’ve come!’) but often discouraging (‘what! All that effort and we’ve only gone up 100m?!’). The landscape became ever more barren and rocky, but the higher we climbed, the more beautiful the sky became. Up beyond the clouds and away from the light pollution of the cities, the sky was more full of stars than I have ever seen in my life. In fact, after the ninth station we took a longer break and sat for about 20 minutes, finally wearing all our layers, and gazing up at the stars. It was around this point that my torch gave up the ghost.

The final leg of the climb was a steep walk uphill which seemed simple enough, but the random rocks in the sand (or volcanic ash, I guess) made for some interesting dance moves. One last rock scramble and we passed under the torii gates which marked our arrival at the summit. Yatta!

So we made it to the top! It was a bit before 3am and pretty darn cold. As well as six layers, I wore a beanie hat, ear muffs and the hood from my coat and still felt cold. My lips are all chapped from the crazy change in climate. We all tucked up under Simon’s thermal blanket (the effects of which were probably reduced by the gaping big hole in it) and waited for sunrise. In the meantime, Simon’s friend who had conquered the Fujinomiya trail came over to chat to us. He said that on the trail he had taken, he had switched off his torch at one point to be guided by the light of the moon and ‘be one with the mountain.’ Then he stumbled across someone having a poo behind a big rock and regretted his decision. The sky in the distance began to lighten, and we waited for the sunrise.

Fuji Part III: Sunrise and the descent

These photos don’t give anywhere near a clear idea of how incredible it was to watch the sunrise from the top of Mount Fuji. The stars faded into the blue, the horizon grew orange and red, and the world below transformed under the growing light. A row of mountains below appeared to hold back a wave of clouds, so the many trees and fields and a lake could be seen from our stand point. Slowly the sun rose and people tried desperately (but will ultimately have failed) to capture the moment on camera.

Sadly, there was a large line of people at the torii gate who had their back to the show. Thinking they had made it in time, they didn’t bank on everyone else arriving at the same time as them and lost the moment. As I stood with everyone, Simon picked up his phone, claiming to be calling his parents. I turned away to take some photos of the crater in the daylight, but he waved me over and passed me the phone; on the other end was my boyfriend, whom he’d called as a surprise for me. All in all, it couldn’t have been a more perfect experience.

When the sun had fully risen in the sky, we stuck around until about 6am. The boys set off to hike around the crater whilst I went to get a hot tea. There is a restaurant / bar area at the top where you can buy hot drinks and food. A bowl of noodles will set you back about 900 yen, but as I have paid around this price in Kyoto before, I don’t think it was too bad. After all, it must be pretty difficult and costly to get supplies up to the top.

The descent was a series of steep and sandy zig zags which were so much easier taken at a run. And run I did for a little while. However, we came across another ALT who had been abandoned by her group and had a medical condition which meant she had struggled continuously through the night before finally arriving at the top (after a certain point, the only way down is up). Simon carried her bag for her and we slowed the pace right down, so in the end it took us about five hours to descend. She did get back to her group safely in the end though. Here are some photos I took on the way down.

It was pretty hot on the way down, and I did get a little sunburnt. Because of the amazing hiking boots my wonderful colleague lent me, my feet didn’t really hurt at all and I didn’t get a single blister. The journey home once we got to the fifth station is a bit of a blur – I remember it in a fog of sleep deprivation. Elation at having made it, the drunken feeling that comes with a lost night’s sleep, despair at the many layers which were now a torture device. There was ash under my fingernails that took me a long time to remove completely. The boys slept a fair amount but I stayed awake for most of it. I got home at about 7.30pm and could barely find the energy to do anything except shower the volcano out of my hair. It doesn’t matter though, because today I feel like I could do anything in the world.

I climbed Mount Fuji.

A series of unfortunate bathroom related events

Fail number one

Sometimes, being a foreigner is rubbish. The mistakes you make can often seem beyond comprehension. Case in point - last week I wandered into a drugstore to buy sanitary towels. A relatively simple task, one might think. Even without language skills, surely there are pictures on the pack to indicate what the item might be? A successful young career woman getting on with her day, perhaps. Or maybe a flying towel with wings? The language on these packets in Japan is unfortunately vague, and the design gives nothing away. Still, not to be deterred, I located the corner where absorbent material was stacked. Just above pantyliners (these were obvious by their size), I found packets of towels which indicated various levels of absorbency. Perfect! Job done. I picked one which I had used once before, guessed what the absorbent level I required would be, and marched off to the tills. There were two, so naturally I walked over to the one where a kindly old lady was working.

I handed over the packet and proceeded to root around in my bag for my purse. I looked up to find her shaking her head. I responded by cocking my head to the side (Japanese body language for 'I don't understand').

'Not this', she said.

'Should I pay over there?' I asked her in Japanese. She shook her head more fervently. 'Not this' she said again, pointing to the packet. I was completely lost. What did she want from me?

Then she walked off with the packet back to where I got it from, so I put my purse back in my bag and followed her. Away from the other customers, she began talking again in broken English.

'This.. for me.. senior ladies!'

I had attempted to buy incontinence pads.  When I had used them the previous month I remarked that they seemed to have taken the 'odour control' element quite seriously. Oh, fantastic. She indicated the products applicable to me, regaled me with an anecdote about her struggles to understand people when she had visited the USA, and neatly wrapped up the packet that I eventually bought. She was exceptionally kind to me, and discreet too. But I can never return. Oh, the humanity.

Fail number two

Yesterday, one of my worst nightmares was realised. I needed the bathroom, so waited until I knew teachers would either be in lessons or invigilating in exams, then slipped away to where I knew there was a western style toilet. In the corridor, some teachers were tutoring students. I scurried past them and into the bathroom. Locking the door and sitting down, I could hear the teachers talking in the corridor, but they were far and their voices were very low, so I couldn't really hear them over the sound of a lawn mower in the distance.

A lawn mower? When was the last time I had heard a lawn mower? Come to think of it, did the school even have a lawn to mow?

I looked up, and felt my heart stop. The noise was not a lawn mower at all, but a giant asian hornet hovering above my cubicle.

In Japan, such insects are referred to as 'sparrow bees', due to their insane size. Wikipedia has more information here. The sting is deadly and can be administered repeatedly. In addition, the hornet emits a pheramone to attract its nest mates to attack the victim too. Around 40 people die each year from their sting.

So this is it! I thought. This is how I'm going to die. Trapped in a toilet cubicle with a sparrow bee.

What on Earth should I do? The hornet was trying to escape by stupidly banging hard against the window, its buzz getting louder and angrier with every failed attempt. I thought I might be sick; as well as the fear, the adrenaline was making me light-headed. If I stood up, my head would be so much closer to it; maybe it would feel threatened and attack me. Yet, if I stayed where I was, I was a sitting duck. An undignified sitting duck.

The buzzing continued and I made a decision. The advice that you get given when you encounter one of these beasts is to simply get the hell away as fast as possible. I stood up slowly and started to slide my trousers up, my heart racing and apparently banging against the inside of my ear drums.

The buzzing got louder and I started to panic. Why the hell wasn't the zip working?! WHY THE FUDGE HAD THE DESIGNER ADDED A STUPID BUTTON! ...and why had the buzzing suddenly increased in volume by about five times?

I looked up and found the hornet had descended to head level. I screamed. In the distance the teachers stopped talking, though no one came to check on me. Thanks for that, guys! I appreciate it.

As quickly as I had found my voice, I lost it again and froze like a rabbit in the headlights. The hornet hovered in front of me for a few more excruciating seconds, then dropped to ground level, flew under the door, and I heard it fly away out of the open window.

Needless to say, I definitely needed the toilet again after that little episode, but it was well over an hour before I could pluck up the courage to come back, this time ensuring that other people were around and that the window was firmly shut.

I hope this has at least brought a little entertainment to someone out there.

Exam practice

Today has been a bit of a long day. I marked some papers from a lesson on travelling. The task was to fill in the blanks of a model dialogue I had written where two people are debating where to go this summer (surreptitiously attempting to get the kids to express their own opinion), so each says a reason why their destination should be chosen and a reason why their partners shouldn't.

"I would like to go to Brazil because I want to buy coffee beans."

"I would like to go to France because I like eating pasta."

"New Zealand is too far, let's go to the USA."

"England is too cold, let's go to New Zealand. We can watch rugby matches."

"How about Mongolia? The culture is amazing and we can see the stars."

There were, of course, some wonderful answers, but the stranger ones have naturally made it to this blog.

After school I held my weekly English club with the students I adore. Next week is the exam so they wanted to study, choosing the past tense with such structures as 'I have already finished.'

A technique that seems to have worked for me in the past is to use crazy examples that will stick their heads so they can recall them in the exam for comparison. Another one is to get them to write their own sentences so they can memorise the rules for forming them.

We came to the grammar aspect 'have you ever ...?' so I tested them with my own questions to get them practising. 'Have you ever seen a Harry Potter film?' I asked. 'Yes, I have seen five Harry Potter films' they chirruped. 'Have you ever been abroad? Have you ever eaten horse steak?' and so on and so forth. Then I asked them to each think of a question to ask me.

Two minutes later:

Students 'Have you ever eaten natto?'

Me - 'Yes, I have eaten natto! But only once!'

'Have you ever been to Kyoto?'

- 'Yes, I have been to Kyoto many times.'

'Have you ever dated an American?'

- Huh?! 'No, I have never dated an American...'

'Have you ever said 'I love you' to a boyfriend?'

- 'Ok! So, we've covered this grammar point, moving on..'

'Sensei!!'

I think they're going to do just fine.

Changing and unchanging things

Everytime I speak to someone from back home, I'm reminded that it's mere weeks and not months that I have left in Japan. Time, once again, is slipping away from me, just as it has done with every experience abroad I've ever had and all the time I spent at University.

The idea of not living in Japan anymore is scary. It's a scarier prospect than arriving here in the first place, and I believe the nice folk on the JET programme when they say reverse culture shock can be even more intense that the initial culture shock. It's all being brought home to me because my lessons are being wrapped up now and I only have two days left at my adored visit school.

How is it possible that I arrived in Japan nearly a year ago? So much has happened and so much has changed. I started thinking today about what I knew back then and what I've learnt, and I was reminded of a song from an anime I once watched with my brothers. It was called The Girl Who Leapt Through Time, and it told the story of a high school girl who was capable of time leaps. Even though I really enjoyed it, I didn't think about it much afterwards. So tonight I watched a clip of one of its song, translated as 'Unchanging things.' You can watch it here:

The film hasn't changed since the last time that I watched it, but I have. For a start I was stunned to realise I understood about half of the Japanese that was being sung.

Every aspect of the mundane elements of that film - the scenery, the food, the classrooms, the melodramatic schoolkids, the trains - has become a part of my life now. Watching this clip again tonight, a year on, I realised that from now on everytime I saw it I would feel a pang of homesickness for a place that was only my home for a little while. If you're about to start the JET programme and you're reading this, savour every single moment because it'll be gone before you know it.

Splash of good fortune

I'm a little bit tipsy, which is unusual for a school night, but I felt I should probably write this post so people could at least laugh at the misfortune (or fortune, depending on your perspective) that led me to cry 'tonight I deserve the chu-hi that's chilling in the fridge!'

After finishing up at my visit school today, I decided to stop off at the shopping mall that's kind of en route to my apartment. I was relaxing and looking at various gifts I wanted to buy and decided to measure my make-up against a small-looking make-up bag (covered in Totoro!!) that I wanted to buy for myself. As I reached into my bag I found an email and two missed calls from my supervisor on my phone. The email read:

"There is an overflow of water in your house. The landlord and a mechanic came there. They need the permission from you. Now I got a call from the principal telling me that a mechanic is fixing the problem, he is now in the verander."

Oh.. poo.

So I rang him straight back, running towards the shopping mall exit even as the phone was ringing. When he picked up he didn't have much more information than was in the email as he was still at school waiting to hear from me. He offered to pick me up from my home station and I pegged it across the bridge and towards the ticket barriers. I slipped onto the train just as the doors were closing and was confronted by a man who stared just a little too hard and had a mild case of halitosis. Running through my mind was every possibility that could have led to my apartment flooding. I'm so careful. I had checked the taps were closed before I left that morning,. A pipe must have burst! My supervisor had said my apartment was 'full of water' - what was damaged? How would I afford the repairs? What a nightmare :(

At my station I slipped off the train as quickly as I had slid on and headed for the exit. 30 seconds later my supervisor picked me up in his car and we hurtled towards what has been my home for the past ten months. We briefly talked about the possibilities, what could have happened, and I felt my heart pounding. Why! I wanted to cry.

5 minutes later we were at my apartment. My supervisor went to park the car as I hopped out and hurtled towards my door, keys already in hand to let any necessary mechanic / plumber / superhero in.

But no one was waiting outside. I knocked and unlocked, and peered in. I expected water to gush out over my wellies.. but nothing. I stepped in and switch the light on. Stuck my head into the bathroom. Tiptoed into the bedroom. Nothing.

Well, it must be the balcony that flooded, I thought.

Nope, the balcony was bone dry. I let my supervisor in, and it quickly dawned on us that the landlord had made a mistake. He called the school and let them know, but his irritation with the landlord was clear. In the meantime I had a couple of kittens and decided to just be grateful my possessions hadn't floated out of my apartment in my absence. Without a doubt I will be doubly paranoid for my remaining six and a half weeks in the shoebox apartment, but I am glad that the place hadn't flooded.

It dawned on me afterwards.. the landlord contacted my school but he had obviously got me confused with someone else. Maybe there is another ALT in my town who is in for a nasty shock tonight? What a long day this has been indeed. I'm glad I had the foresight to buy an alcoholic drink this weekend.

Osaka Aquarium

This weekend I went with some friends to the aquarium in Osaka, which was expensive but definitely a good afternoon out. (Tip: go when you know there won't be so many small children. I was kicked by one and sneezed on by another.)

Here's a link to the website in case you're interested in going. The adult tickets are 2000 yen, with an extra 600 yen getting you a ride on the ferris wheel. I opted not to do this as I am chicken, hear me buckaw.

When you're inside the enormous building, you take an escalator right to the top of the 7 levels and see the otters and the fish and crustaceans that you find near the surface. Then come the sea lions. As you descend you come across ever more kooky and colourful forms of life, from the flourescent, tiny little fish to the big, fat, gormless ones that look as if they have undergone a full frontal lobotomy. Whale sharks and dolphins also make an appearance and sting rays abound.

After we'd spent about two and a half hours looking at everything, we headed to the nearest food court where I had my first Japanese subway sandwich. The guy toasted my bread before he put the cheese on (WHAT) but there was a new flavour we don't have back home - avocado and veggie. You win some, you lose some.

Despite copmpletely tiring myself out this weekend (Friday saw a JET farewell party at an all-you-can-eat and all-you-can-drink place out in the sticks), I was unable to sleep last night and have been awake this morning since 5.20am. This is probably going to be a looong week folks, so please disregard any uncharacteristic spelling mistakes. I hope all is well back in the land of fish and chips.

Mmm... chips.

Be more careful in future, kid

Yesterday I gave a lesson on the future tense, explaining the difference between ‘I’m going to ~’ and ‘I will ~’

To set the scene, I first decided to revise the past tense, so asked the students very simply what they had done the previous weekend. In this class there are a few more students willing to volunteer than in others, but they were still a little slow to get started. I reminded them that they could get reward stamps for volunteering, at which point the hands started to go up.

Most of them talked about how they practised their instruments or played sports, but one boy raised his hand and with a cheeky smile said ‘I did nothing.’

‘Oh really?’ I asked, moving towards him. If students don’t give full enough answers I have a habit of questioning them further until I’m satisfied they’ve tried their best. I could see from my angle that he had his leg up on a chair too, so I decided to make him really work for his stamp. ‘Why didn’t you..’

I stopped in front of him. The foot that was on the chair next to him was encased in the most enormous plaster cast I have ever seen, with his toes poking sadly out the end. He grinned and pointed at his leg.

‘What did you do??’ I asked, the shock evident on my face.

‘Broken’ he replied.

‘How?’ I persisted, more from curiosity than from any desire to stretch his English. He clenched two fists together and made a snapping-twig gesture, accompanied by a crunching noise.

‘Aaargh!’ I yelled, the class erupting in laughter. ‘Yes but.. how? Football?’

‘Rugby,’ came the answer. I stamped his card and went back to the front of the classroom.

So on I went with the lesson, explaining the grammar and tailoring the questions accordingly. ‘What are you going to do this weekend?’ I asked the class.

Up went the hand of the broken-foot student. ‘I’m not going to do anything,’ he began, pointing melodramatically to his foot. ‘I can’t!’ Another stamp.

‘Any volunteers to read the dialogue?’ I continued. The broken-foot student volunteered himself and his friend.

‘Okay, stand up then.. no no, not you! You can sit down!’ The students normally stand up to read out loud and he wouldn’t be told to sit down if his friend was standing, preferring to balance precariously on one foot. Another stamp.

Every second time I asked for volunteers, he was there, reminding me that he was injured but still soldiering on. Twenty stamps or so later, I came to the final grammar point; using the present tense – ‘I am ~ing’ – to talk about the future.

‘What are you doing after school today?’ came my final question.

‘I’m going to the hospital’ shouted broken-foot student, pointing one last time to his cast.

Okay kid, I get it!!

Japanese efficiency

Sunday morning. Early. The world is awake because, it seems, Sunday is just another day to work in Japan. Last night my neighbours kept me up past 1am (which is a big deal now I'm not a student anymore) so I was looking forward to at least being able to lie in until 9am or later.

At around 6.45am an unexplained loud noise woke me up. Groggily, I rolled over and tried to get back to sleep. Drifting in and out of consciousness, I was aware of moving around outside my balcony.

At around 7.30am the machinery started. Loud hedge trimmers and something that sounded like a pneumatic drill began operating on the area outside my apartment. A group of men were intermittently chattering loudly in Kansai dialect close to my balcony. They sounded so chirpy and awake that I wanted to go out and thump them.

The noise continued and continued, until I was fully conscious and unable to go back to sleep. At 8.45am I gave up and decided to go and make a cup of coffee and start my day. I came and sat at my computer at about 9am and looked out the window to see the guys all loading their machinery back onto their truck, the day's work apparently completed.

HGFUISDHGFKNDKGBAEDIHGFSD

Volunteering - June

Today I went to the children's home again, which was a lot of fun and just what I needed. There were only two of us going today but it caused a fair amount of excitement anyway. With no game tournaments going on and the weather too rubbish for running around in the yard, we wandered the corridors to see what the kids were up to. The girls appeared to be eating a late lunch so we made our way to the boys' floor.

That's where I was first attacked by a 7 year old with an imaginary light sabre.

As I fell to the ground in slow motion, matrix style, another small child rushed at me with a large yellow bean bag and began swiping for my head. I stood up straight, realising only my height would save me and noticed I'd arrived at the main play room for the boys. The more boisterous boys got distracted by something further down the corridor, so I breathed a sigh of relief and looked at the others who were staring up at me inquisitively.

"It's a new person," one of them said in Japanese. Another one popped up from behind me and began tugging at my name card. I hadn't seen him before and figured he must have arrived fairly recently. He sounded out my name and asked where I had come from. "I'm from England," I replied.

"Not Japan?" His eyes widened.

"No, I came from England," I answered. I asked his name and he said it slowly before pointing to his name on the list in the corridor. Then he charged off to overpower another boy's dinosaur with what I think was a plastic gun (it more closely resembled a drill.)

I stuck my head into the playroom and asked if I could come in. The kids graciously granted me permission so I scurried in and sat down on the floor next to a very quiet little boy who was carefully arranging shogi (Japanese chess) pieces on a board. He didn't seem to mind me being there, but he wasn't interested in small talk.

Eventually the others burst back into the room in a storm of fake gun sounds, light sabre swishes, and what can only have been battle cries. I was dragged into the battle between the gun and the dinosaur - the rules changed every minute so I'm pretty sure I lost every round. Then I was whisked away to watch TV, play several rounds of tag, hide and seek, and be killed in battle a few more times. When we left I was pretty exhausted, but happy. Hanging out with the boys was a different experience to last time and reminded me of playing in the garden with my little brothers when we were younger. These boys even had a bag of 'slime' on the playroom table that they claimed to have collected from the garden. It all feels so familiar..

Goodnight, grandma

One of my biggest fears about coming out to Japan was that something would happen to my grandparents whilst I was away. My grandma has had a fair few health problems over the past few years, and even though she pulled through every time, I still worried that something might happen whilst I was so far away.

My grandma died yesterday. She'd not been too well after a recent fall and had deteriorated over the past week or so. The family was with her when she passed away at home and I'm told it was very peaceful. I'm glad that she went in the best way possible.

But I'm also selfishly sad that I couldn't have been there too, to say goodbye or to say thank you. I feel wretched that I can't even go to her funeral when she was there my whole life. This post is my way of saying what I can't say to her, it's the only thing I can do.

When I was little, I used to go to my grandparents' house to stay. I'd normally go with one of my cousins, and at first we'd only stay for one night. As we got older and grew used to being away from home, we'd stay for a few days at a time and sometimes I would even go by myself. We'd all go on day trips to the local park, grandad would help me with my maths homework, grandma would play games with us and talk to us about whatever was going on in the news.

One of the things that stands out at me about memories of my grandma is that she was passionately anti-Thatcher. For as long as I can remember she would talk to me (at me?) about politics, even when I was too young to really understand what she meant. She also talked about social issues in general, teaching, learning difficulties, employment.. no doubt fuelled by what she was learning in her second degree in social sciences. I joked that these were 'lectures', but she inspired me to take sociology at college. Naturally, all the things she'd taught me gave me a head start in my classes, and it's probably not a surprise that I would never ever consider voting Tory.

Learning was a big deal for her. In fact, it always has been for both my grandparents. They bought my brothers and I our first encyclopaedias. For years we would go to see a play by the Royal Shakespeare Company every summer (beforehand she would always insist we dig out the big encyclopaedia of literature and read a synopsis of the play we were about to see.) She taught me a lot, about specific subjects and about the importance of studying. Every morning, before she started to be unwell, she would wake up between 6-7am and do the crossword whilst waiting for my grandad to wake up. I would sneak into her room, sit on the floor and stroke the cat, pretending to muse over the clues she was giving me (I make no pretence, I'm still not capable of doing those crosswords even now.) Sometimes she would give my cousin and I a really long word and ask us how many smaller words we could make with it. We would scamper off to do this whilst she and grandad got up and ready for the day and then together we'd try to make the list longer.

She was a convinced Christian too, and some of the explanations she gave me strengthened the faith I have today.

My grandparents' house has always felt like my second home to me. My cousins and I learned to play so many games there. Scrabble was always the hardest one, and grandma was quite strict about the 'no proper nouns' rule. But my cousins and I learned early on that we could easily trounce her in a game like 'pairs' or any card game involving memory. Those were such fun times, and I used to really look forward to school holidays when I could go and stay with my grandparents.

She'd always been hard of hearing, so one day my grandad bought her a hearing aid. It felt like a new era! All of a sudden she could hear us so much better. When she had it in, of course. She had a habit of not putting it in when we went to see her, which we only realised when she started to tell us off half-way through a conversation for speaking too quietly (often ensued by cries of 'put your hearing aid in, grandma!') She'd put it in and switch it on, then look expectantly at grandad. Grandad would then quietly say 'Mary had a little lamb..' and she would finish with 'and then she had some more.' This was their test to check the hearing aid was working properly, and it cracked me up every single time.

I'm going to miss my grandma so much. She was a huge part of my childhood and used to give such great advice, especially when I was having a tough time at school.

One day she said to me 'don't worry about boys and about what the other girls at school are doing. Study hard. Do well at school, pass your exams and when you get to University you'll be the belle of the ball.' I never forgot those words.

Thank you grandma, for everything. Thank you for helping me do well at school. Thank you for helping me be a better Christian. Thank you for your wise words. Thank you for patiently sitting and playing with me and my brothers and cousins for hours and hours. Thank you for being the best grandma ever.

I'll always remember you xxx

Japanese flower arranging

Determined to do as many Japanese things as possible before returning to the UK, I approached one of the teachers in charge of the Tea Ceremony club (茶道部) and asked if there were any activities I could join in with. She gave a me a schedule of some classes and invited me to an Ikebana lesson! Ikebana 生け花 is Japanese flower-arranging. I have never even done European flower-arranging before, so I’ve been excited about this for a while. Nervous too, because I heard that the lady outside school who comes to teach was very strict.

So yesterday I went along to the lesson with my English-speaking colleague, who was kind enough to stay with me the whole time to translate. I learned a huge amount about flowers in that short time.

Each of us had a selection of three types of plant waiting for us. Small, yellow chrysanthemums; the leaves from a kind of lily; and the focal flower which was tall and straight, with a purple bud. The main teacher came over to me and explained the principles of flower arranging, the main one being balance. You shouldn’t have too many flowers, and they shouldn’t be too bright. They shouldn’t all be the same size, and there are rules governing how tall or short they should be.

For example, there were three of the main flower in my selection, which the teacher cut to three different sizes for me. They were placed on the base first.

The base, by the way, is a flat pin bed submerged in water. You stick the flowers onto the pins so as hold them in place.

I was told that the shortest flower on the base should be around a third of the size of the tallest flower. (Yeah, this is where I started to get lost in the forest of yet more Japanese rules and etiquette.) The chrysanthemums were duly cut to size for me. There were additional tall leaves with the bunch that had apparently come from the tall flowers. This should be cut to the height of where the stem of the tallest flower stops and the flower itself starts. (Still with me?)

The lily leaves (the flowers of which are superfluous because the leaves themselves display a simple beauty worthy of a place on the stand) should not all face the same direction. Rather, they should look in or out in different directions in the interests of balance.

Before I knew it, the main teacher had arranged all my flowers perfectly for me. She was then whisked off to help some other students, leaving my colleague and I to look at the masterpiece she had left behind.

“You can try now if you want to,” she said. “This is the teacher’s style, but if you follow the principles of Ikebana then you can find your own style.”

I voiced my concern that the teacher would be offended at my interference in the balance that she had created. My colleague insisted though, so I took away all but the tallest flowers and began rearranging them with her help.

In the meantime we talked about flower arranging traditions. I learned that there are three main holidays each year, from January to May, where she herself would arrange flowers in her home. For other times the Japanese in general might display smaller pockets of flowers around their home, in front of which they might pray for dead relatives. Interestingly she said they favoured small chrysanthemums over the big ones, as they ‘give gentler feelings.’ I liked this idea.

The teacher came over to see what we’d done and contained her dismay in a very Japanese way – by emitting a small nervous laughter. Then she began rearranging my flowers again until they resembled more closely what she had done before. Apparently the main flowers were very tall and straight, meaning we should adopt a very ‘tall and straight’ style for them.

My flowers are now on display in front of the office.. I cheekily tweaked them one last time after the teacher reorganised them. It’s mostly my work I guess but it doesn’t really matter, I enjoyed the experience anyway.

My colleague left me with a wise observation. “We Japanese often think about colour and the brightness of flowers, but Ikebana is about balance. We should spend more time thinking about the balance.”

I guess in a country where work-life balance is hard to achieve, it is all the more important to preserve the principles of practices like Ikebana.

The countdown has started

This week the office lady has called me in for a couple of meetings to discuss end of contract formalities. Aside from the reminder that I should pay all my bills before I go and cancel any outstanding mobile phone / internet contracts, she also requested a date for my return in August / September. Now she has all the details and a set date, she'll be booking the ticket next week to make sure the prices don't rise any more.

Since then, I've been feeling really sad about it. Now that I know when I'm going home, it all feels a bit more real that my big JET adventure will be over in a few months. There are things about going back to the UK that excite me, but on the whole I've fallen in love with this beautiful country and its amazing people and I don't want to leave.

I've never been much of a tourist. I've been to a fair few places, and of the past six years of my life I have spent three of them abroad. But I'm not into visiting only the tourist spots and taking the photos that everyone takes. It can be fun, and I do it on occasion, though I prefer living in a place and building friendships with the people around me. I like to use the local shops and drink in the local cafes. I get a kick out of learning a new language and picking up local slang. The issue with this is, by the time I have to leave, I have already formed attachments. The culture shock that I went through when I arrived was intense; but it's nothing compared to the reverse culture shock I'm going to experience when I go back.

I'm going to miss the friends I've made, JETs and Japanese alike. I'm going to miss the food. The efficient public transport system. The mannerisms of the people around me. The mountain outside my apartment. The harbour of Kobe. Seeing the whole of Osaka bay stretch out in front of me from the window of my visit school.

I'm going to miss my students.

Now I have a countdown, I'm having to think realistically about my time left. I've got many things planned, including a trip to the theatre, a baseball game, climbing Mount Fuji and visiting a few other places in Japan. I'll upload as many photos as possible to this blog so you can all see my last few treks out here. I guess Japan will make a tourist out of me yet..

KitKat challenge May 2011

The latest instalment of my KitKat challenge.

Pudding KitKat

This was not dissimilar from the Kobe pudding KitKat. Possibly less sweet but only slightly.

 

Citrus KitKat

This and the following three KitKats are courtesy of my kiwi friend who travels a great deal more than I do. This one was tangy and orangey but also quite lemony. Very enjoyable.

 

Apple KitKat

This was.. very appley and quite sweet. It was nice and I'd eat it again, but it's not top of my list.

Chili KitKat

It took a few seconds for the hot chili to kick in. But kick in it did.

 

Blueberry Cheesecake KitKat

This was one of the cruellest KitKats. It tasted divine.. if you held your nose. The Japanese don't seem to understand the use of cheese in desserts and use the most pungent and smelly cheese ever. I don't understand. Anyway, I did eat it all. If I didn't breathe through my nose, it tasted amazing.

 

Tiramisu KitKat

I got so excited to find this one.. but was disappointed when no sooner had I removed the wrapper than the waft of cheese once again smacked me in the face. So much for a delicate mascarpone. I couldn't taste the coffee (or the chocolate) over the smell of cheese in this one. So much potential.

 

Edamame KitKat

In the Tohoku region they eat a lot of ground up sweetened edamame, so this is the token KitKat from that area. Recently they have been selling them locally and donating money from the proceeds towards the areas affected by the earthquake and tsunami.

It tasted.. odd. It appeared to start off tasting a bit like green tea but definitely got more 'beany' as the eating went on. I'd buy it again because every little helps, but.. yeah. Odd.

 

Volunteering

Yesterday I went with a couple of other ALTs to do some volunteering at the local children's home. To be honest, it didn't feel like volunteering; it felt like a lot of fun. We arrive in the afternoon when the children are playing and we just take part, playing whatever games they want to play and hopefully aiding the building of international relations that JET is so big on.

When we arrived the kids were busy playing 囲碁 (i-go), a board game for two players where you place black and white stones on the board to capture as many of your opponents pieces as possible. I had no idea how to play, so a member of staff whisked me off to a table and taught me (in Japanese, so I had to follow his actions very carefully). Shortly after, each of the kids took it in turns to play with a different opponent and received a stamp for their efforts. They were so good! I lost time after time against 6 year old boys who gleefully snatched up my pieces as I made one dumb move after another! They quickly filled their stamp sheets, after which the staff gave out prizes to some of the kids who had made the most effort (not just in the game but in other activities too.)

Shortly after, we all went outside to play. I quickly discovered that with small children, the language barrier doesn't mean a thing at playtime. With the other ALTs I spent an exhausting half hour chasing the kids around the yard for a game of tag. Some of them invented their own rules as the game went along though, so I had trouble keeping up! 'No tag back!' 'You can't tag me up here!'

One of the boys taunted my friend from the very top of the climbing frame - 'Come on!' he teased in English. We both made concerted efforts to reach him, but he had far more energy than we could muster.

One of the little girls asked me a question but said it too quickly for me to understand. When I asked her to say it again she looked confused for a second and then a look of comprehension spread across her face. 'It's your first time here, isn't it?' she said knowingly. I had forgotten how incredibly astute small children could be.

I'm already excited about going back next month, it was one of the best Saturday afternoons I've ever had!

Golden Week Thursday - Arima Onsen

On the Thursday of Golden Week I finally got around to going to an onsen for the first time. Onsens are very popular in Japan, and are basically public hot springs where you soak (or stew) in very very hot water from deep underground. There are also public baths in Japan which don't necessarily use spring water.

Anyways, Arima is one of the oldest (if not THE oldest, it may say on wikipedia) hot spring resorts in Japan. It's quite expensive to go to, but there are various different springs you can visit. Some of them are for one off visits whereas others are full day affairs, with food and all kinds of extras. The one I went to with my friend was called Kin no yu - 金の湯. This means Golden Hot Spring. Yey.

So with towels in hand and exhaustion to dissolve, we took the bus from Takarazuka for about an hour. We stepped off the bus to find a performing monkey surrounded by a crowd in the street. As you do.

It didn't take us very long to find the place as outside there was a free foot spa bath where people dipped their feet into the hot water. We made our way into the establishment and had to take off our shoes before paying at the desk and receiving our locker key. The bathroom, as is standard in Japan, had toilet slippers. Within three minutes of arriving Kelly had already committed the sacred error of walking out the bathroom with them still on her feet. Shame on her!

I hope you're ready to hear the next part. We got up to the changing room and were greeted by many naked ladies, the majority of whom were over 50 (a not inconsiderable number were at least 105 years old). No one batted an eyelid at each other as everyone moved around in the pretty confined space. This is because you are naked for the entire Onsen experience.

Yeah that's right. No swimming costumes, no pants, no towels to cover your modesty. Now, bearing in mind that us gaijin girls get stared at when buying a loaf of bread, I was feeling pretty sick at the idea of stripping to my birthday suit in front of a big group of curious females (thank goodness for gender separation). As it turns out, it's like ripping off a plaster. We scurried naked into the Onsen room itself, a room full of steam and.. well, nakedness. Yes, I realise I'm dwelling on this a bit, I'm just a self-conscious person (though I'm over the shock now and would willingly go again, what a liberation!)

Before getting into the hot tub itself you have to wash first at any one of the showers that surround it. The idea is to be absolutely clean before you get in, it's only polite after all. There were three hot tubs in total, at either 42 or 44 degrees depending on which one you chose. The water was a rusty, golden colour, living up to it's name. I'm not sure what minerals exactly were supposed to make up it's formula, but I did feel like I was slowly being cooked in an earthy broth. The water was so hot! We didn't stay for too long (and you're not supposed to for obvious reasons), but the older ladies were taking it in their stride whilst I floundered at the side of the pool. Kelly, who has preivously sampled the Onsen experience, gave me the best advice I have ever received - don't stand up too quickly. As it was I thought I would pass out, when I actually stood up again I realised just how easy it would have been to keel over.

It was an interesting experience, however. We showered again afterwards but that was necessary due to the extreme earthiness of the spring. In general you're not supposed to as it is considered a bit insulting. The idea is that everyone is clean when they get into the tub so why would you wash more? I know of a few people who would probably pee in the water intentionally though, thank goodness I wasn't in the water with boys.

After that we dried off and got dressed and went for a very cold drink. I felt like I had been flattened from a vigorous massage! I went to the bathroom and took a step out with the slippers still on (by accident of course.) Shame on me! The woman waiting for them after me nearly had a heart attack. Sigh.

Soft and boiled through, we went for a wander around the village, sampling such delights as manjuu and ice cream, sipping on soda water that has been carbonated by the underground springs. Here are some photos:

One of the points where water is pumped from the ground and into the baths.

Hot water bubbling in one of the parks we found. There was also a fountain with carbonated mineral water that you could drink from.

A hidden treasure.

The area is lush and green and full of little shops like in beach resorts. The weather really picked up too, so it was an amazing day. Just what I needed!

Golden Week Wednesday - Kyoto

My all time favourite place in Japan is Kyoto. Despite having visited the city three times already, I decided on Wednesday that I would jump on the train there for the fourth time. A couple of days really aren't enough to see the best parts of Kyoto; a week might be sufficient. About a month ago one of my best friends left JET for health reasons, and whilst I was distracted initially by my boyfriend's second visit to Japan, I've since been moping a bit and not really seeing very much. Most other people I knew were busy on the Wednesday but I was determined not to stay at home, especially when the weather has been picking up recently. So off I went, map in hand and ipod fully charged.

The station of Kyoto is massive. The scale of it is impossible to describe here. It's so big that they have weddings and performances in it, as well as a department store and a ramen village (noodle village). Last time I was there, my boyfriend wanted to do the sky walk (walk through a tunnel attached to the ceiling from which you can see the city). I have a bit of a thing about heights, however, and only managed it halfway up. He took me back down to the ground floor and left me with donuts before going back to do it alone. Sorry about that :S

On the Wednesday, by myself with no one to notice if I failed in my task, I decided to do the skywalk. Why? Because I'm a bit of a moron in my own right, and stubborn with it. I walked through the ticket barriers into the centre of the station and made the split second decision to do it. Before I could think too hard, I stepped on the escalator. Then the next one, then the next one. Before I knew it, I was at the final escalator. It was long and thin and very exposed to the wind, making it seem all the more precarious. The only way I made it up was by staring at my feet the whole time. Stepping off it into the tunnel, my feet felt like lead and my legs felt like jelly. That feeling did not disappear the whole time I was up there.

But I did it! And I took some pictures.

This is the Kyoto Tower as seen from the skywalk.

This is the inside of the station as seen from the very top floor (called the 'Happy Terrace'!). It is very high up for someone as small and scared as me, click on the photo to see a higher res version.

So, with that experience under my belt, I slowly made my way downstairs (still feeling slightly sick) and jumped on a bus to my real destination: 金閣寺 - Kinkakuji temple.

No long description is really needed here, just take a look at the photo:

金閣寺 is a temple coated in pure gold leaf. It's a national heritage sight, and it is absolutely breathtaking. It seems to float on an island in the water, and the gold reflection shimmers. There are random little rock islands in the water where trees are growing, and despite the huge crowds it still radiated tranquility. I stood for a very long time staring at it.

Beyond the temple, there was a bit of a walk you could follow. Everywhere seemed to be surrounded by green.


There were large koi carp swimming in the water...



and there were small cascades of water by the path...


which led to a smaller shrine where prayers can be said:


There were stalls selling souvenirs and food (including Kyoto's famous 'dango' which I was given free samples of), at the end of which you could find an even smaller shrine with foxes in (foxes are the guardians of the larger Fushimi Inari shrine, more about that in a different post):


This more or less sums up my trip to Kinkakuji! So, one last photo for good measure, a vending machine I found close to the exit of the temple, just in case you had forgotten your camera and wanted to run back and take pictures before leaving.