Blog Archive

5.31.2010


Walking in silence through the rice paddies under a moon that was full 2 days ago, but looks just a bright, like it is sticking around to be the last man standing at the party, I fall behind the crowd of us because I am looking at the stars thinking that THIS is my life, wondering how this is my life, feeling that life is ineffably beautiful. I think about not pulling out my camera, the moment is all too encompassing. Its too dimensional - from the stars in the sky fading away into the moon light, which reflects off the shimmering flooded rice fields, to the shadows of Japanese roof tiles peeking above the hedges, and the movement of us passing through.

We are a new tribe. We are appreciative of our differences and the fact that we are now so similar because we, in all the people in the world, live on these islands that are magical. And we are, at 4am, walking through a sleeping fishing village to get to our boat and one by one go home to our own islands. 

My legs are hard from the journey to a shrine built on a speck of earth that faces away from everything else. It was built when Constantinople was the biggest city in the world, when a plague killed half of Europe, when the Arab Expansion began and when the Vikings went on their first raids. (obvious shout out to wikipedia) My mind is swirling with the hearty revelry of company and dance parties and bob marley in an old traditional japanese country house, saying what we already know, that everything is gonna be alright, especially right then.

There are so many little details that color my life, to add into those sentences. Like rocking to Wagonwheel out in the garden watching the coal get hot for the bbq, barefeet and practicing my squatting as the sun sets. Or too many of us dancing on tatami, ducking our heads a little if we cross over into the other room, where a table sits shrouded in the room light, awaiting our gathering like much shorter Japanese people did for the last 120 years.

Or that on the way to the shrine, we took a small boat that cut through giant waves like modernity through the traditional Japan, without changing the flow of the ocean. Or the abandoned island and its priests house with counters two feet high in the kitchen and sandals still perfectly lined up at the edge of the tatami, with crates and crates of sake and beer bottles intended to be made into something new, but now forgotten. Life chanced a much different path.

In some way we have all forsaken the city life. We are learning something that only we think is a secret, but has actually been knowledge for all of history. To feel the earth. To know it’s where our food comes from. To feel the rain. To know its power. To not have things and know they don't matter. To not have people and to know they are a gift.
In some ways I have felt too young for this, but in other ways I feel like I didn't learn these lessons young enough.
I am not sure if I could have learned these lessons if my life was not islands. Not only the mindset that you are separate from what is going on, but the daily visual reminder of the great and powerful sea that must give you permission to go see it, mean that if I am to look, I am too look inward more. . From its stormy green potion to its calm cold blue, here, the ocean is one big magical mirror.

5.26.2010

BBQ

We tried to have an American style BBQ. I know, it was a bit particular of me, to tell people that the "salsa" was meant for the chips, and the hotdog buns were to be opened vertically not broken in half. But principals are sometimes the only thing I have left here.


Anyways, it was one of those precious moments of cultural exchange to explain hotdog and hamburger assembly. And despite our efforts, people kept pulling out stealth chopsticks and cutting the hamburger patties into small pieces. No regrets though. I learned the magic that is corn and soy sauce.

5.18.2010

The dark side of Japanese

I’ve come to really appreciate Japanese, but there are hours when Japanese sounds horrible to me. It grows claws that scrape along the blackboard until it gets to me and then  slaps me in the face, repeatedly until I leave the room and start over.

I think these Nihongo demons exist when people all start talking together over something seemingly important for a long period of time. The conversation rages on, holding me besieged by its gathering emotion and urgency, not to mention my unfortunate desk location in the middle of the staff room. The only words friendly to understanding are emphasis words and “don’t you agree?!” words. Those are mocking words.

*Also, Japanese sounds really awful when it is co-workers snorting up flem all day long. 

National Geographic



I’ve seen some National Geographic going down on Goto; Flying fish, bioluminescent blooms in the water, birds hunting fish, a bog of sleepy white cranes at dawn. I’ve even seen a hawk with a live wriggling snake in its grasp. I finally saw a wild boar. I pretend the spiders the size of my palm cohabitating with me are a new species. Think Furby; still creepy but harmless so far.

But this weekend, all I saw was a brown blur smack my hand down and send my lunch flying. I couldn’t get over my shock until I considered my food’s point of view in comparison. Imagine you are a tasty banana walnut pancake in transit from hand to mouth, when A GIANT GOTO HAWK makes a stealth dive and grab for you as quick and silent as light.

5.15.2010

Rich Villages




I took my scooter to the northern ends of the Earth as I know it. The type of joy that filled me was the adventurous kind, where the only things that can stop you are your own personal decision to turn back, or the vast expanse of ocean. It’s fascinating to think about the people that live really out there. When I see these houses I think, now this is someone who has really “gotten away from it all.” But maybe it is closer to the truth to say that they never had to go anywhere. The world went the other way without them.

I think about impoverished villages – the kind with happy people and lots of kids, which distract from the tragedies happening in confidence - and see that there can be rich villages. I have never seen a rich village before. I have seen rich build walls between the village, I have seen rich move away to stand solitary of the village, and I have seen rich build a bigger better city. But looking at these houses I think things don’t have to change when you get more money, get happier or get healthier. Maybe even when you get more educated, but I’m not as sure about that one.

Nevertheless, there is something universal about going through a poor village or a rich town, a poor city block, or a rich neighborhood during dinner time, if you are lucky to catch that sliver in time and space. It is when nobody is out but you can smell the food that is bringing people together in their homes in that speck on a speck of Earth in the Universe, and you know it's the same everywhere, yet I feel privileged to be humming through these lives on my scooter, disappearing around the bend.

5.10.2010

Japan was good.

The office today is amped up with noises of frustration, panic, disbelief, and disagreement, exaggerated yawns and snorting of flem. Its before 9am on Monday and seriously disconcerting, if not nails-on-a-chalkboard-to-my-hangover . By hangover I mean weekend drunk with awesome. This brings me to my point...



...that my oburoni loves have already made, and have made more eloquently that I, so I will ask you to read about it here if you were wondering whether I am having the time of my life in Japan. I am, but it's love the second time around, and that, I am finding out to be, is something quite different.

5.09.2010

"Every Situation is Different"

Every JET comes to hate those words, yet use them, perhaps even a lot. I recently found a piece of paper on which I leaked my steam of consciousness back in March when my co-teacher called in sick and I was tossed into some awkward pseudo-class. I felt like I had to do something besides just sit there with the sub for and hour so I began to write. I think it is a good example of how different awkward things can get.


March 2010


Normally it would be really rude to just sit here in monastic silence while the P.E. teacher sits next to me. I wonder what he is doing? I wonder what he thinks I should be doing? Is he wondering what I think he thinks he should be doing? What? Do the kids respect me at all? If he was gone what could we possibly be doing right now? If I was somewhere else what could I possibly be doing right now? How can so much of this still be a mystery? The kids are testing us right now. At least I think that. What does he think? Is he not thinking about this at all? Seriously the kids are just copying over and over words into their notebook. How do they feel about this? Does he think I am judging him? I can't believe I am sitting in front of class giving kids looks for talking. I feel like such a sell out. I do it because it's for their own good. That's bull shit. Ah the awkwardness is killing me. It's cancer, it won't stop growing. I can't believe the crap I pull out of my ass. For example, I am in class and nobody talks to me. I single out kids that are doing something that I can ask a stupid question about, i.e. drawing. "Oh, are you drawing?" [Oh dear God, what did she say?!] "Drawing" [F#%@, She is talking to us] "You know (gestures with objects), Drawing" [What the hell is she talking about?! Why us?!? Oh God!] So I am at a dead end. The veteran JET that I now am pulls open my notebook and starts reading anything. I then weave a story around my seemingly absurd actions with my limited Japanese vocabulary. The best part is when victory is achieved, when on a simple level students understand what I am doing, it doesn't matter that what I am doing actually makes no sense at all. It is like observing animals. Before we can care about "why?" we must discover the "what?" And when that is an epic struggle in itself, figuring out "what?" is to be celebrated. This one kid keeps looking at me. He looks evil. He looks like he is waiting for an opportunity. He is literally on the edge of his seat. The teacher keeps readjusting and making grunting noises. Why do you clear your throat when you don't ever say anything? Why are kids looking at each other from across the room? The information games that are going on right now are unbelieveable. I am so far from the loop. Sometimes I wish they had one day in my shoes. I think they might combust. What is opposite? Can things be infinitely far from each other, not measurable, and still be opposite? You can hear the clock ticking. Is this real life? Do the kids in the front feel sorry for themselves? Are they afriad of me? Do I look pissed off? I would think this all sounded insecure, but in this case, I actually have no idea what is going one. I'm curious. Wow! Has it almost been 45min already. This $%&+ is crazy. I would rather be napping. My body is in WTF mode. Am I being self-absorbed? Is he really looking at the clock instead of me? I honestly just thought - "just pretend it's a pap smear, it will be over soon." The room certainly feels cold and sterile enough. What's for lunch? That white rice is crack. Everyone wants this to be over. Did I say how uncomfortable this makes me?