Settling in for today’s ride, laptop plugged in, cup of tea warming my hands, backpack tucked under desk, and important papers/Japanese textbook thrown about out to enhance my productive appearance, check, check, check and check, I hear the 8’ o clock town song playing. It’s connection to the school PA system has been faulty since September. But the choppy and static ode to the official start of the day echoing throughout town, struck me as perfectly normal, questionably familiar in fact.
I guess this is all becoming very normal for me. Of course I have no idea what I am doing today, or a more accurate description, of course I have no idea what is going to happen to me today. Its as if every day I order the chef’s special, but I know I will never be able to read the menu. I am at the mercy of his mood, his inspiration, his schedule, and even what seasonal produce is available hinting that there are much larger, extra-planatary, forces at play. My job is to eat it up and smile and say “delicious” with an orgasmic tone. People in Japan, you know what I’m talking about.
When I say things are becoming normal, I mean day by day a muscle in my body relaxes, surrendering to the ultimate game of jello. It doesn’t mean I stop questioning things. There are plenty of things I notice each day that blow my mind, and by now, also a good number of things that tire it.
I still have revelations, thoughts that are surfacing now, because I could only process so much in the beginning. For example, I often stare at pencil cases. Surrounded by strictly enforced school uniforms, haircuts and hygienic masks, any sign of individuality fascinates me. In that department there is Elmo, Pooh-san, Creepy white babies, Snoopy, Engrish ones celebrating “music is the aesthetic celebration of life sound” or “happiness my friends feeling love and happiness.” But there are also cutesy marijuana pencil cases. These are perfectly acceptable for children, maybe because they are cute? But 7 months in it hits me, that these 14 year olds on this small Japanese fishing island are possibly among the most innocent 14 year olds in the ENTIRE world. A scandalous Saturday evening here, would be holding hands at the (one) convienent store past 6pm.
I’m sure a lot of this has to do with the isolated geography. But there is a culture of protection and safety, a fear of outsiders that buffers these children from anything that can come over on a boat. As a result, instead of making children afraid of everything, they are peacefully oblivious to everything. I can ride my scooter down a street lined with children screaming HELLLLLOOOO wearing a santa costume and not one will look up or cock an ear. Haiti. What’s a Haiti? Did you know that every elementary and junior high school student here has a bad person alarm dangling from his or her backpack?
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