Who Died?

What do you get when you put a nun, the town policeman, a few sleeping politicians, a woman in a kimono and 60 weeping children in uniform into a gym and set it at 40ºF for exactly 2 hours? You got that right, Junior High School Graduation.

We rehearsed graduation a ridiculous amount of times. Everything was perfected: bowing, standing, sitting, singing, handing off of certificates and gifts, reading of letters, the procession, the flower arrangements, the uniforms. I’ve never seen humans so precise. I've spent the last two days measuring chairs in the audience to the centimeter.

And as I sat there watching the 3^rd years proceed in, not a smile to be found, and then turn and face the 1^st and 2^nd years, everyone crying as they sang solemnly to each other, I couldn’t help but feel death was coming. I was curious to see if the boys were crying too. They were, and so were the male teachers and dads. Not that there is anything wrong with that (Fascinating article about crying here) Anyway, everyone was crying!

When the ceremony was over we sent the 3^rd years off through a tunnel of paper flowers with happy congratulations, laughing and joking. This felt completely opposite to me, as I wanted to celebrate, smile, and cheer during the ceremony, but cry and feel sad during the goodbyes. I am all messed up. 

Imagine This

IMAGINE THIS

Imagine a world where the UPS man sprints to and from his truck.

Where the mailman calls you on your cell to meet you to deliver a letter when you aren’t home,

Strangers buy your dinner,

And the cashier of McDonalds personally comes to your table and apologizes profusely for the sauce you asked to not be on your burger,

Where every package is easy to open,

People leave treats on your desk when you aren’t looking,

And taxi drivers say “thank you for your hard work” when you get in,

Where buses and police cars say “Good Morning” to you on their megaphones as they pass,

Cashiers follow you 3 blocks to give you back your change you forgot to take,

And people make their trash into pretty bows,

Where there is a word for your imaginary “other” stomach so you can eat more,

The land is covered with a network of speakers so that all townspeople hear the morning announcements,

And your coffee table is a heater,

Where someone will drive 40 minutes just to bring you a slice of cake since you missed out at the office,

On the way to school you pass an 800 year old shrine,

And you catch your own dinner.

And now back to being awkward…

Imagine a world where there are air raid sirens and you don’t know why.

Where you bow to space,

Gargle water after coming in contact with children,

And sneeze into a mask you have to wear all day,

Where you can’t be the first to leave work,

Snowmen are only two balls,

And kickball innings are only 2 outs,

Where, school children practice marching and military formations,

People have ridiculous drunken shenanigans and then pretend nothing ever happened,

And the policeman will follow you back to your house if you forgot your license.

Where skirts could not be any shorter,

Socks could not be any longer,

And people publicly view porn.

Where the mystery meat is whale or raw horse,

Its normal to bathe naked with your co-workers,

And kids try and stick their finger up your butthole,

(Annnnnnd I am still illiterate.)

Hypothetically, If we were to say there was a problem

“So how do you come to school?”

“Well, bike, scooter, bus, taxi and…(I definitely have a feeling I should not tell them I sometimes walk) yes, bus.”

“Hmmm.”

“Yes”

“Hmmm so how do you come to school, which one?”

“All of them”

“Hmm ok but how do you come to this school on this day”

“It depends on the weather. Also when I wake up.”

“When do you wake up?

“It depends how I want to get to school.”

Secretary’s head explodes!

Ive become quite skilled at following the developments of problems pertaining myself. What I mean is, when the school has a problem with me I am the last to hear about it, but my ears can track the phone calls to the secretary’s corner, to the swinging in and out of the Principal’s office, to the blatant conversation about me, in front of me, without me. For example I know once the problem has been circulated enough, I either have about 20 minutes or less of waiting time until someone approaches me, or a whole other round of phone calls is about to happen. Will 3 days worth of fretting, stressing out, the sky is falling alarms sounding, be presented in a single paper I have to sign without explanation, or will someone suggest I start doing something differently without giving me the chance to defend myself?

One thing I’ve learned is that a passive aggressive course of action drags on for such a ridiculous long time. You could compare it to Jesus - torture, resurrection, a rigid belief system for a few thousand years, etc. For example, I started riding my bike to school. Before you think how I could be so disgusting, I would like to state for the record that in December I informed my supervisor of the dates I rode my bike and asked that my transportation allowance be adjusted accordingly. He ignored this and the Board of Education gave me bus money anyway. Fast forward to March when we have our employee “review” to discuss the terms of our contract (convenient and intelligent timing to address problems now when there is no point, as I AM BLOWING THIS FISH STICK STAND). The meeting was quite nostalgic for me actually. Oh my life back in August was so beautifully naïve - All the ALTS sitting in a room in suits with our Vice Principals or Co-teachers having no clue what is going on, trying not to laugh, listening to the opening remarks and wondering if we heard correctly. Because if we did understand that Japanese, the opening remarks went like this

Now as your journey here began when it was hot, and then it got very cold and it became winter. As it was a very cold winter and you survived, but many plants lost their flowers. As the cold winter was long and then it started to show signs of spring, which is now. And in this spring the flowers will bloom on the branches. And like flowers your experience with the children should open up. And we should enjoy this place together.

And then the man from the Board of Education actually left. Anyways we were exposed for riding our scooters and bikes and for missing our buses and an agreement was agreed upon! I don’t know what that was. But I total this up to 4 attempts to make clear how I get myself to school. Unfortunately, as today’s conversation cited in the beginning of this entry implies, there is still a lack of willingness to accept on both our parts how I should come to school. Why is this an issue? Well, turns out that all teachers sit down in the beginning and say how they will come to school.

Now to redeem these frustrations as a cross-cultural learning experience I have thought about the following…

Good thing I do not think it is just me they are going Big Brother on. I feel treated enough like a child.

Second, how interesting that Japanese Bureaucracy has no illusions of being tedious but necessary and logical. This makes me want to throw my hands in the air and remain in strict routine for the rest of my gajin life. But wouldn’t that be a crime to tie myself down when there is a whole world to explore. Nobody ever got anywhere with that mentality. Isn’t it my duty as an American to show there is another way of living. A way that sees possibility instead of illegality. A way that celebrates our human agency to think for ourselves, to push the limits of locomotion, to explore diversity, to embrace entropy and make it an opportunity. Can I get an Amen! Praise the Lord. God be almighty. IM SINGIN IT FROM THE MOUNTAINTOPS. HALLELUJUAH!!!

And when I step off that mountain, or out of my designated bathroom stall rage room, I wonder if this Japanese way has some pros. If everyone knows how everyone gets around and at precisely what times, everything from coordination to disaster response is easy schmeezy. I think about these things.

A Throw Back

Throwing notes was way more baller than sending texts. I miss the days when there was risk involved. Forget the actual message, the mission to communicate was important and worthy enough. Stealth video skyping while in the teachers office doesn’t count because nobody will say anything if they catch me. Throw me a note yo!

Going Native

“There is a thing about being so close to something that one does not see it anymore. Anthropologists normally refer to it as going native. You have gone native when you no longer see the obvious things anymore, when the things that an outsider notices stares you in the face but you are no longer able to see them. This is usually because you have developed a blind spot for them, and they have become normal, almost natural.”

I lapse in and out of going native. I don’t know what triggers my brain to notice or not when a mini van with a decal that says “FABULOUS” literally covering the front windshield speeds by, the lone operator a tiny Japanese woman wearing a mask. Language on the other hand is such a cool insight into culture, and Japanese is something I have yet to lapse in and out of. While looking up words in the dictionary I often come across interesting Japanese words. There are words for things we take whole sentences to make.

橇行                        きょうこう     (poet) traveling by sleigh

脱がせ屋              ぬがせや            persons who convince female celebrities to pose nude for photoshoots

殺陣師                   たてし                 man who teaches actors or actresses how to use swords

夜雨                        やう                       night rain

コクる                                                   to confess (one's love); to propose (marriage); to ask out (on a date)


パラサイトシングル                    single person who earns enough to live alone but prefers to live rent-free with his or her parents (wasei: parasite single)

Pencil Cases. More than an Asian Stereotype.

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?

I missed something cool. Again!

There is not much to do on this island…that I know of. So, when I find out that I missed a HUGE festival, it makes me bitter. For example, this weekend, apparently there was a huge festival in a cave. Apparently buses went around  to pick people up and take them to this festival. And apparently it was lots of fun. And on the other island…well, all I see on facebook the next morning is XXX had mud rubbed all over her face, was thrown into a giant slipper, and tossed into the air three times by men wearing only diapers. I love Goto. :D This woman does not even live on Goto. WHY DID I MISS THIS! Sadly, this is not the first time this has happened. I asked the teachers at my school to tell me when they know of a festival, and their response was confusion.