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.
1.18.2010
12.18.2009
Still here, and left the good old Japan
“Moment of landing on this island, I would slow down the heart. Turn left foot, the mood. Well good beer or brazen daytime. Leisurely stroll today, fishing tomorrow, and then uh .... You tired of city life, please do the laundry of the mind. Still here, and left the good old Japan.”
This English translation of Kamigoto’s self-description brings up an interesting point. I am not in Japan, yet am still here. Definitely still here. I try to go to the beach at least once a week. There is one I have claimed for dramatic self-reflection, since nobody is ever there and I can sit on big rocks and stare out towards what I think would be in the direction of China. There is so much beauty in such a finite place all the time, it really goes against the “everything in moderation” mantra. Usually this is a wonderful, wonderful thing.
In the morning when I ride my bike to school along the bay, its like I am in a goddamn Skittles commercial. As I pedal up the hill behind my house the sunrise is exploding on the other side. It rises over the lush green mountains, bursting through the clouds and reflecting off the water, which creates some sort of majestic purples, oranges, blues and hawks that drop candy from the sky. Usually this is a wonderful, wonderful thing.
But you gotta listen to me. I need off this island. The only way is by ferry, which may or may not be cancelled tomorrow, when it finally comes time for my escape. It all depends on the wind they say. So I checked the weather: “Wind – Strongish” ?!?! What do you mean!
In the morning when I ride my bike to school along the bay, its like I am in a goddamn Skittles commercial. As I pedal up the hill behind my house the sunrise is exploding on the other side. It rises over the lush green mountains, bursting through the clouds and reflecting off the water, which creates some sort of majestic purples, oranges, blues and hawks that drop candy from the sky. Usually this is a wonderful, wonderful thing.
But you gotta listen to me. I need off this island. The only way is by ferry, which may or may not be cancelled tomorrow, when it finally comes time for my escape. It all depends on the wind they say. So I checked the weather: “Wind – Strongish” ?!?! What do you mean!
Today's forecast
December 18, 2009 5:00's minutes
December 18 (Fri)
Time | 0 - 6 | 6 - 12 | 12 - 18 | 18 - 24 | |
Weather | -- | Cloudy with rain | Cloudy with rain | Cloudy with rain | |
Precipitation chance | -- | 50% | 50% | 50% | |
Weather | |||||
Best | From | ||||
7 ° C | -- | ||||
Wind | |||||
Wind | Wind | ||||
Northwest | Strongish | ||||
Sunrise sunset | |||||
Sunrise | Sunset | ||||
7:20 | 17:19 | ||||
12.15.2009
The tracksuits were out in all their glory
The tracksuits were out in all their glory. There were all white ones. Classy. There were silver bullets. Stealth. There were high waisted ones. Jackets were tucked in with as much precision as the collars were popped. Designer brands. Ones I suspect circa 1989. Something you would see if German P.E. teachers were climbing over the Berlin Wall. Basically, the excitement in the air could at least match, if not the colors of nylon and the socks with sandals.
The whole town was out to watch. Some had to watch from behind windows. Some lined the course, which happened to be in the busiest road in town, full of cars on a Sunday. The course was actually in the road. With the Nissans and suspiciously pimped out rides.
And then suddenly, after the opening ceremony, the bowing, the yelling Japanese into the microphone with hand raised open palm, the track suits came off and the spandex came out. Just when I thought I couldn’t handle any more matching nylon, the ante was upped. It was either spandex or shorts that could have been mistaken for a baggie. I wondered how seriously each man took his pick in runner’s wear.
I was the only woman in this race. To be fair to women everywhere I am disregarding the one other woman who ran in pigtails and a cream colored tracksuit. When she crossed her finish line she collapsed making the sounds of a dying animal. Everyone ignored her and so she began to crawl behind a building. It might as well never have happened.
The cheering along the way kept me going. I was a hell of a spectacle, so I couldn’t stop, especially after little children gasped as I went by. Even so, by the time I made it to my finish, my relay partner had left without me. I might be mistaken, but I thought the hand off was the essential element to a relay race.
All in all, 4 thumbs up!
12.08.2009
Scuba Diving, Japanese Style (During the Holidays)
A Typical Convo
3 hours is the maximum amount of class I have in a 8 hour work day. Some days the extra time is taken care of because we happen to be making mochi, planting onions, having some type of important (BORING!!!) speech, or a fire drill. I never know about these plans until they are happening. Some days I am bitter about this because some days I hold the perception that they assume I do not need to know anything about my job. Other days I have plenty of time to chat with the other ALTs online about what we are confused about at that moment…
Robin: man im in shock though
so one of my fellow teachers, she's the PE teacher, leader of the third grade teachers
im also slightly afraid of her. She's been nice to me, but she's one of those people who like they tell you to do something and you do it
she's maybe like 50 or something, and reminds me of like....a nun, one of those nuns who practices tough love
though she’s not, she's married and has raised three sons apparently
anyway
i was sitting here at my desk, well i was slouching at my desk, searching the net cause I have nothing to do
when someone suddenly grabs my shoulders, I immediately sit up, thinking im in trouble, and look up to see her standing behind me
me: haha
Robin: and then, she starts to give me a massage
while chatting to some of the other teachers about random teacher things
me: AHAHAHAHAHA
Robin: after a few minutes she gives my shoulder a pat and moves on to do her work
while I sat there slack jawed in shock
im still in shock
i can like count on one hand the amount of times ive seen an adult japanese person touch another adult when they weren't drunk
me: ahahha
that is shocking
Robin: and I can't remember a clear time when one of my fellows teachers has touched me lol
like in anyway!
we don’t even hand shake for crying outloud!
me: ya one time someone put their hand on my shoulder and i moved away
out of pure shock
haha
Robin: right?
me: man you will be shocked for a while
Robin: and she's not even a teacher i interact with regularly!
i am not prepared for this
this wasn’t in the JET handbook
!
me: exactly
this is the real disturbing stuff
Robin: just when i thought Japan couldn't shock me
it could piss me off, it could bewilder me, it could amuse me
but it couldn’t shock me
it proves me wrong
me: hahahahaha
(5 min later)
me: since i feel inadequate at this job
im getting really involved in my English board
im making a miniature house at Christmas time
because i realized Japan likes miniature
12.04.2009
Questionable Developments
Remember when you were little and you had to stick your hand into a box and feel around to guess what the object was? We did that in 5th grade this week with scissors, tacks, a stapler, a metal compass with a sharp point, an open ink pad, and a box cutter.
Way to keep me my on my toes Japan.
I was just starting to comfortably stereotype Japanese people as being “safe.” Maybe it's the new generation. The students seemed to really get a kick out of screaming “DANGER!”
There have been other questionable developments too. There is a man with excellent English skills that works at the Shell station who likes to give me things. What started out as a lifetime supply of noodles has now escalated to shopping bags full of cheesecake, coffee and teas, paper decorations and sandwiches. I don’t know what to do because he is not even creepy.
Meanwhile, I agreed to be on a relay team for the island’s relay race festival. I am on the scuba diving team with 5 other men who are all middle age. Not only was it news to me that I am younger than their children, but that I am penciled in for running almost 2 miles in 9 minutes, half of which is uphill. HA. However my real question comes from just finding out from someone else that I am running in the men’s race.
On top of this, all of a sudden my co-workers are acting like they somewhat respect me. It’s completely bizarre. And the middle-schoolers have gone in one day from running away from me, to spooning me. There is nothing like feeling someone grab your hips and caress you from behind only to turn around and see a tiny Japanese girl.
I wish I knew what my secret was. It is kind of unsettling really. Not knowing what is going on or what I am exactly doing everyday can in effect lead me to question how well I know myself these days. Those of you that know me well, know I regularly do things to embarrass myself. Well, Japan is so awkward in the first place, any actions on my part go unnoticed or blend right in. This has been really disorienting. Luckily, this identity crisis was addressed last weekend when I pantsed myself.
I happened to be pulling off a scuba diving dry suit and took my pants off with it. Sensing something was amiss while standing in front of a few old Japanese men, I looked down to confirm I was indeed standing in my underwear. I started to laugh so hard that I couldn’t see, and I proceeded to crash into a rack of fishing poles. Somehow I didn’t hook myself, and found the whole experience to be comforting. However, after the old men laughed, they refused to acknowledge what had just occurred. Come on. We all know it happened. It was a loud disaster. Don’t deny me this.
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