The end of JET

http://search.japantimes.co.jp/cgi-bin/fl20100727zg.html

One more thing...the JET Program is pretty interesting in itself. I think if anything the misuse of JETs in school is evidence that the program is still needed. The lack of understanding or feeling that there can not be understanding between us, is JETs cause on some levels, but I completely agree with the misrepresentation of "internationalization" that is happening when most JETs are pulled from the U.S., UK or Australia. I have no problem saying that the JET Program needs to change, but I hope it doesn't go.

One crazy finish line

I am incredibly grateful for the past year. My life here has been surreal. It has been hilarious. It has been difficult, sad, happy, frustrating, confusing, boring, exciting, bizarre, lonely, relaxing, inspiring and amazing. Many times I verged on the edge of deleting this blog. I think blogs are dumb to have. They are presumptuous. But in between hating myself for having a blog, I occasionally enjoyed using work time to figure out how to write again. In between hating what I wrote, I occasionally enjoyed reminiscing about where I was mentally at each step of the way in this strange parallel universe. So thanks for reading I guess, I sometimes resented you for upholding a phantom pressure to write and for prying into my personal life. How dare you!

Anyways, Oh! where to begin to end…

I agreed to go to Japan because I was looking for a place to go for a year or less. They said they would pay, so I said OK, Japan.

I knew nothing about Japan coming in. I learned maybe I should know more before I go to someplace and have to establish a life.

I saw the Japanese language as the big scary OZ. I watched the curtain get pulled down.

I thought I was coming here to teach English. I realized that was not going to happen.

There came a point where this stopped being an experience and became life. This meant I was free to openly dislike the way things were done, without feeling ungrateful or culturally insensitive. In theory, JET is a good idea. A great idea! Someone should tell my co-workers about this idea.

But I, one large bumbling apologizing sweaty faux pas, carried on. When Coach John Wooden passed away a few weeks ago, one of his quotes resurfaced in my mind, and it struck me as the rallying cry of my last 12 months.

“Do not let what you can’t do, interfere with what you can do.” Nice words Coach.

School and work wasn’t everything though. Of course under these circumstances it sometimes felt like it was. (note: Japanese people work a lot) Work was what landed me on this island, and kept me from getting off, so I struggled to redefine my existence otherwise. I don’t know many people who would choose to go back to middle school, let alone go back to middle school as the friendless, communicatively challenged foreigner.

The closer to the end I got, the more flips my stomach started doing. Ending this was way more nerve-wracking than beginning it.  And when it came time to leave, when the ship pulled away, I started to understand more about why I felt this way. Each face from the pier waving goodbye was a challenge and a gift for me. It wasn’t until I scanned all these faces that I could see a summation of what I did this year. Leaving that behind hurt.

We often talked about how this was a blip in real time, how we were living on an alternate plane of existence and when it was over our bodies felt they were going back to where we left off. I’m trying to focus on how I’ve changed and what things I want to take away from this experience, and I hope I can convince myself I’m going somewhere new.

Little amazing things

Today I found out that my school has albino frogs. I went a whole year without seeing these hilarious frogs. I never went down that hall because I never knew when students were changing. That doesn't really matter I guess though because they  usually just strip down in the classroom. This seems to be yet again, a one sided awkward situation for me.

I had some extra special moments with students today. Some kids going out of their way to say "Herrow!", or demo some Engrish. I even had some extra special moments with a few teachers. I found myself playing mancala with them at recess, and the vice principal bought us haagen-dazs.

And then after school I saw the sunset from beneath a Christmas tree while underwater.

All little amazing things that make me confused about leaving, even though I know its the right decision.

I'm a beautiful mermaid

I woke up this morning a little confused about where I was. After 11 months there are still some days it takes me 3 seconds to realize I am in this house alone, and then another 1 second to realize that this house is in Japan.


But I had the most amazing dream! I rode my bike to the beach in the middle of the night. The tide was high but shallow, so I walked out 100 yards underneath stars that filled in the sky from mountain to mountain, with the calm ocean stretching out like a giant pool around me. And when I looked down I saw a trail of sparkles. Waving may hands through the water made swirls of light! My body was shimmering! I was transformed into a magical sea creature. My hands looked like the soft giant paws of Leo running through the sky. My legs turned into a mermaids tail bursting with light. I was transfixed in each individual sparkle of transformation, and there were thousands of them.


And then, as I started to gather my stuff to leave for school I caught my sandals in the doorway. They were filled with sand.

This insect is CRAZY!

When I came back from the bathroom a teacher was spraying a rather GIANT looking wasp thing behind my desk. The other teachers were standing outside the room, so I asked if it was the type of bug that stings and hurts. They said, "No hurt, You DIE! YOU DIE!"

When I came to Japan people told me about the poisonous centipede, the mucade!, and the posionous snake, the mamushi! but no one ever told me about this bad ass hornet, the most poisonous hornet in all of Asia, the one that each year in Japan causes more deaths than "all other venomous and non-venomous wild animals combined, including wild bears and venomous snakes!"

I did some research (wikipedia, national geographic) and this is the most fascinating insect I have ever come across!

It can fly 25mph. That is faster than the legal speed limit of my scooter!
It can decapitate 40 honeybees per minute, a few can wipe out a 30,000 bee colony in hours!
These honeybees defense is a trap in which thousands of them make the hornet overheat by luring it inside the hive and then they flap their wings until it gets to 115 degrees!
The venom can dissolve human tissue and has an enzyme which attracts more hornets to the victim!
and
"They are excellent mothers"   ...?

And then I read this..."Adult hornets feed their young by chewing the flesh of their victims into a gooey paste that the offspring devour. The larvae are well fed, and in turn provide the adults with a powerful energy-boosting cocktail in their saliva. It's called vespa amino acid mixture, or VAAM."

AND WHAT DID I DRINK LAST NIGHT... why a energy drink someone gave me: 

The magical road

I have found a way to time travel! Usually when I plan to just ride around the block I end up on top of a mountain. It’s probably less to do with getting inspired than it is to do with the geography of Kamigoto. Seeing as how most roads lead to one, it really isn’t hard to end up on top of a mountain,


This particular mountain adds to my LOST fantasy. When I found it the first time, the road appeared to end in dense forest at a fenced in “facility” of some kind. This time I took the road around the back, thinking it would loop around the building, but instead it started to go down. Its practically impossible to turn around and go home when you are going downhill through a mysterious tunnel of ferns when you have no place to be and nobody knows where you are. There were so many twists and turns, I lost track of what direction I was heading. The road was clean though; a perfect smooth snaking blacktop through lush green forest and smokey dusk. There was only space in my head for exhilaration. I have long since let go of questioning why there are perfectly new roads in the middle of nowhere. That is one of those Japanese things.


But, this road came out into a timeless agrarian valley. The magical road.


The mountains turn into fields at almost a 90 degree angle, making a powerful frame for the blazing orange and pink sunset that was reflecting in the new rice paddy water. Nothing can describe my feeling of awe. I rode up, undiscovered, behind the only other person around, an old man on a mama cherrie. I didn’t have the heart to say excuse me or pass him. The man was singing and putting along until he turned down another road. I was invisible to him, but he was the center of my world in that minute. Some house lights were turning on. There were no cars to be seen. Just peace and the crunching of dirt underneath my tire.


I’ve been back to this road many times, and each time I have seen something new.


Once I turned the corner to face 3 cats lying in the path. From afar they looked like sweet country cats, cousins or something. Up close they tried to jump me for my lunch money. I just narrowly passed, only to find crabs scurrying away from me with their claws held high ready to defend themselves. I laughed at how worried they seemed and at their uncanny resemblance to the stereotypical portrayal of Japanese people, fearful of big scary foreigners and ready to yell “take anything you want!” I may be big and may be scary with my red hair looking a bit electrically charged in this humidity, but I usually leave my gun at home.


The most magical time I went to this magical road was at night to see fireflies. I didn’t know this at the time, but it is the most famous spot in all the Gotos for firefly viewing. There are over 40 firefly species in Japan, and you can only see them for about 2 weeks. (I saw this translated news article of the annual firefly viewing on Ojika, another island. Please note the last caption.) Everyone on the island seemed to know this viewing was happening, except for me. At the turn off, community volunteers in vests, waving glowsticks, helped people park, the path was lit with special red lights, and there was an ice cream truck!


As you walk into the darkness, fireflies start to blink in the forest alongside you. The valley narrows at the end of the fields and turns into a river. Over this river there were literally hundreds of fireflies, their jazz jamming with their own reflections in the water. There were some floating up to the sky and sometimes you couldn’t tell what were the stars, and what were the fireflies. It seemed the stars were coming down to dance. We all agreed it was the most beautiful thing we had ever seen. There was something so profoundly stunning and magical that resulted in a proportional feeling of absolute loneliness. I think because it is rare to know in the exact moment, rather than after the fact, that its beauty is once in a lifetime.

Ha-re-ru-ya! Ha-re-ru-ooooo-ya!

I realized I haven’t mentioned karaoke yet! I think if there were three things that summarize the material Japanese landscape they would be:

 #1 Vending Machines – I have only seen drink and cigarette machines. No, I have not seen any panty vending machines. I will wonder to my dying day why there are no snack vending machines. While the abandoned island to the north has a population of zero (...), there is still one vending machine, from which I enjoyed a cold beer.
#2 Pachinko Parlors – I have been in one Pachinko Parlor, just long enough to realize it is an alternate universe of zombies playing for convenience store food, and I escaped before blood started coming out of my ears from the incessant noise of hundreds of miniature pseudo pinball machines.
#3 Karaoke – Speaking from my brief jaunts onto the mainland, karaoke happens by default when you go out, and are wondering what to do next, usually between 1-4am. There are giant Karaoke houses open 24 hours. You rent a room for a certain amount of time and order unlimited drinks by telephone.


Honorable Mention: Snack Bars – NOT a place to go for snacks. I have never been in one, but I did send a willing couch surfer to do some reconnaissance, and their reports confer with others descriptions, that snack bars are seedier versions of hostess bars. You pay a lot to talk to a woman, levels of attractiveness significantly vary, while drinking beer and eating dried squid.


The fact that my island has TWO miniature Karaoke places may be a testament to the prevalence of this cultural pastime. I have only been when enkais (organized work drinking parties) take me there, which I feel has made for some real “authentic” experiences. By the time I find myself at either “Melody” or “Pegasus,” my coworkers have already been drinking and eating for a good 4 hours. This doesn’t mean they take Karaoke lightly.


At my welcome party I was offered the mic first. I knew this was a big moment. I had to pick a song that did not require vocal skills, that Japanese people would know, that would show I can simultaneously act a fool and take Karaoke seriously. I’m sure most of you understand that this naturally means Bohemian Rhapsody.



Some guidelines for Japanese Karaoke I have learned since, if you will:


-You will sing. Just like you WILL eat your peas before you leave the dinner table. The nice way, or the shove it in your face way, you will sing.

-The background videos will never make sense. I’ve seen fabio riding on Route 66, businessmen lying depressed the forest, waves crashing upon lovers, etc… all with no correlation to the song.

-You cannot casually share your song with other people.

-There are entertaining snippets of English in many Japanese songs. For example, “My little girl, my little girl. Oh desire morning,” or “Stop! Love Always Oooooh uh uh uh.” My personal favorite, “Hallelujah,” which written in Japanese, can only get as close as “Ha-re-ru-ya”

-If you take requests, expect “I Will Always Love You,” or something by Celine Dion.


The first time I took requests I had to sing “My Heart Will Go On.” That should have been the last time I took requests.

 But one particular enkai, I humored both my Vice Principal’s strange obsession with “Country Road,” and my co-teachers farewell duet request for “We Are the World. We Are the Children.” He declared it was important to sing before I go to Africa, and he sang it on his knees.
At my last enkai I vowed it would be the last time I went to karaoke without a song already in mind. This is because when I didn’t know what to pick, they asked for Mariah Carrey’s “All I Want for Christmas is You.” “Really,” I said. “It’s June.”

Triathlon Fever

I feel extremely bored sitting at my desk with nothing to do the day after the triathlon. I know better. I know that I could be swimming with the fishies or flying down a mountain at 40mph on a skinny bike screaming "DAHHHHHHHH", or running through a quiant fishing village with stunningly clear toquoise water. I think I have a case of triathlon fever. 

Before the race I was deeling with the "feeling a bit too casual" jitters. Here, people don't even casually go for a jog around the block. But all in all is was TOPS. I was high for hours after. In fact I might still be high.

Some higlights of the race:

~Tiny Japanese women trying to ride me like I'm a freaking whale at Sea World during the swimming portion.

~My swim cap...a duck. Never underestimate the Japanese appreciation for cute things. It is very powerful.

~The course: I literally went from being in the sea to on top of a mountain overlooking the sea all the way to China. Twice.

~The spectators: Little ancient village women in their gardening getup (read full on sun protection with bonnets) cheering us on. From their expressions, I think they got the same kick out of me as I did out of them.

~The oldest competitor: A 77 year old man. Baller. Should I feel proud that I beat this man? (I was the second yougest, by 10 years! The 13 year old didn't even break a sweat)

~My competition: Japan's Iron Man athletes. (The Iron Man race was cancelled this year because of foot and mouth disease. It is THE Iron Man and it is held on the island to the south of me, so a few came here instead.) This took the pressure off us regular folk, aka me.

~And the winners: a HOT couple that knew they were the shiz and had matching gear, from sunglasses to shoes. (in Japan couples like to match) I like to imagine they order the same drinks, have matching his and hers sport toothbrushes, and viciously compete for everything.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

"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?

Drinking with the PTA starts at 4:00 sharp

One thing I think I will miss is seeing a manly Japanese man pull his cell phone out of his inner suit pocket, only for there to be a big fuzzy pink pom pom charm dangling from it.

Last weekend I was surrounded by a lot of these Japanese men. It all began one typically random day when my co-teacher asked me if I would attend the PTA party. “Of course,” said I. Instead of the usual response of “Ok thank you,” I got, “WHAT?!? Really? Wow, good. for. you!” The teacher proceeded to announce to anyone who walked in the room that I would, in fact, be going.  Mostly there was laughter, but one person told me that I rock.

Naturally I was suspicious. Over the next few hours I went on intelligence recon missions, like looking at the invite paper only to see there was a different price for women. With my ample free time, these facts weaved an intriguing situation with my imagination, and before the day ended I assumed I was going to a strip club on a fishing boat.

Japan is a great nurturer of the imagination. It takes you into completely new situations that don’t make sense, and you have to fill the gaps, but my mind doesn’t like to stop there. Take yesterday, instead of being in a sauna with 3 Japanese grandmothers, or more likely great-grandmothers, listening to enka, we were in my mind, having a full blown sing along.

The downside to this is sometimes Japan just doesn’t go far enough. It gets your hopes up, and then stops short at 15 PTA dads smoking around a table, eating canned fish and mayo, and ignoring you until they get drunk enough to ask why are you only staying here one year?

I am glad I went. It is at those very moments you appreciate everything that brought you to that exact place and time in the universe. But then the man to my left started to snore loudly as he dosed into his food, and I couldn’t help but think I wanted to be outside playing with kids in the street instead. And then I had a tragic thought. What if everyone else at this table felt that way too?

Contradict this!

I LOVE contradictions. Who doesn’t? That is why Japan is so great. If I don’t think “what the efff?!?” at least once a day I think I must not be putting my self out there enough – I’m just not truly experiencing Japan. So I go outside and open myself to Japan. I say Japan, throw something incomprehensible or at least mildly confusing at me! And Japan does not disappoint.

And last weekend as I pulled my scooter out of the driveway a car going twice the speed limit flew around the blind corner, I swerved into a wall, my poor Hondo Cesta’s ego bruised. The man laid on his horn and gave me a look of utter disgust. I choose to love how rude this man was for the depth it gives to the cultural stereotype that Japanese people are super polite, something severely contradicted when they get in a car. This particular contradiction gives me such as rush. But moving on, as I stoked my Cesta and whispered sweet nothings, we rode to the store and I thought “what will I buy today?”

If it is February , some “obligation chocolates” to show that I was thinking of my co workers. I love how  a “just thinking of you because your special” becomes literally an obligation. Or should I buy an eco bag for my future shopping needs to cut down on the last layer of excessive packaging (those obligations chocolates are the only things individually wrapped, put in a plastic tray, wrapped again and  sometimes put into a box before getting its own bag). Of course the cashier puts my new bag into a bag.

Japan is still one step ahead of me and has designed an intensive trash collection system where the excessiveness must be separated and recycled, reclaimed material for more excessiveness. How can I use the word “excessive” so much in Japan when portions of food are smaller and things are generally miniature? I don’t know. That is the beauty of contradictions. 

Will the Real JTE Please Stand Up

My attempts to speak to  find my co-teacher continue...

So before I left yesterday I stood up approached my new English co-teacher and said “Mr. Iaoueaoueuueeee Sensei. It was nice to meet you. If you need any help, please tell me.” He looked confused. So I say, “I know you are really busy so I can help you.”  He cocks his head to the side, takes a deep breath and says, “Ehhhhhhhh むざかしかな。。。”  The science teacher comes out of nowhere with a translation for him.

DAng! I have a feeling he doesn’t speak English.

So today we have class together. I feel like maybe we should have a convo before that happens. I know I am going to be the one that has to bring it up. But how? Its like asking someone to prom. DAng!

I wish to speak to the new secretary too. The old one was my best friend. She told me what was happening when I found myself all alone. She told me how to get off the island. She told me what was in the school lunch. She told me that I should exist the building since the fire drill started 10 minutes ago… The secretary and the tea lady are the solid gold backbone of the JET Program. My new secretary looks like he is 15 and trying to grow facial hair.  His suit is also eating him. He works in the tea time corner behind a divider. I really want to go back there and chat it up but I think that would give him a stroke. I can’t believe I work in an office where merely talking to someone might cause them physical harm.

So I developed a strategy for conquering these socially awkward mountains. I make bets with another JET. We often talk to each other online throughout the day to exchange WTFs, figure out what is going on, draw up battle plans etc. So I bet she has to confront her teacher or whoever and I will give her the box of treats that magically appeared on my desk, but the catch is every hour she hasn’t done it, I will eat something from the box. She bets that I won’t talk to my new co-teacher or secretary by lunch, or I get the vending machine drank of my choice.

Not one to loose bets, I just asked my co-teacher in Japanese if there is anything I could do for 5^th period. He seems confused so I say “English class.” Then he says something about asking the English teacher, while pointing to the desk where the new P.E. teacher sits. Hmmm. This is where I could ask my old secretary what, WHAT, is going on.

Sooo, I’ve had to wait until now, 5^th period to see if the JTE would reveal him/herself. Nobody has taken me to class so I’m about to sneak up there and see who it is. Be right back…

Ok so I stood around the corner and listened in an empty stairwell for about 5 minutes. The teacher is who I think I suspected it to be all along. He was just telling jokes in Japanese without a mention of English.  The saga continues!

May I have you attention please. May I have your attention please.

Back in Black

The First Day of School AGAIN, seriously, again…

What a come back! I pulled up to my town on a cruise liner and stepped out into the blue silloutes that come right before sunrise, dropped off my bags, put a suit into my backpack and rode underneath the cherry blossoms to another first day of school. As I rode through the trees, birds would flutter around to the next branch sending petals floating down to their song. YES! The island has transformed from LOST, to a Skittles Commercial, to alas Disney movie.

When I walked into school I could hear boxing ring bells in my head. This is round 9 and Momma said to Knock You Out. All the teachers are new (that’s a story) and I had no idea what was going to happen except for the FACT a lot of punches would be thrown today. Maybe its because I’m cracked out from the 30 straight hours traveling to get back here, or maybe I am just intoxicated with Spring, or maybe I am experiencing a monster insulin surge from eating literally pounds of rice upon my return (Thanks Korean Air). Who really knows, its Japan.

The two most obvious things I saw about America in my recent culture shock were that Americans are almost naked usually in an unfortunate looking way and the food there is ridiculously salty - Nothing extremely deep I wish to delve into, except for the observation that most Americans do not accessorize on a daily basis.

The most awkward thing that has happened so far is that my new co-teacher has not spoken to me. He sits across from me and has had 8 hours to do so. I felt like I couldn't interrupt his busying around, but I also feel like the next few hours will be crucial for making some social contact. Especially since we are partners in crime now, and Japan I would like to ask you, how can we be that if we pretend each other do not exist?