A Triumphant Return

I would say I don't know how I get myself into these situations, but unfortunately, I already know the answer. If you will recall, I mentioned that I might have agreed to cook sweet potatoes for the whole office this past friday. I wasn't sure, but upon going into the office on Monday, I was greeted with my answer. Less then .000001 seconds after I walked through the door, I was presented with approximately 6 pounds of sweet potatoes, and simply given the instruction of "cook these for wednesday." At least I think that was the instruction. Really, they just talked at length in Japanese, and I, in turn, responded "hai."

So, tonight, I have now successfully made 6 pounds of candied sweet potatoes. This was a first, and I was semi-pleased with the outcome. The task was especially difficult since I do not have a) an oven b) a microwave or c) kitchen space to work with 6 pounds of sweet potatoes. Still, I perservered and have completed my mission.

While at the grocery store shopping for what I needed, I happened to run into two Nishi girls and three Joyo Chu girls. While they were, of course, in separate groups (there's a rivalry between the two schools, with the latest event in said rivalry being four Joyo Chu kids going to Nishi and beating the shit out of several Nishi kids. I think baseball bats were involved, but I'm not sure), they immediately joined together with one single purpose: to follow me around and see what I was purchasing. I'm not sure what was being said, but each time I put an item into my basket, peels of laughter erupted near me. The situation was made worse considering my odd selection of items: brown sugar, brandy, marshmallows, bleach, and a bottle of Pocari Sweat (note, only three of the above items were used in the potatoes). The whole experience made shopping slightly more surreal. How often do you have a group of spectators follow you as you perform mundane chores. I'm special!

On the subject of being special, I returned to Higashi Joyo yesterday and it was made fairly clear that I was missed. One attractive young assistant teacher who I "spoke" with frequently last time (I say "spoke" as she doesn't understand much English, and what English she does know is from Japanese music that uses odd English phrases) happened to see me smoking outside from the window of the teacher's room. She leaned out the window, gave a few waves yelling "STEBEN! STEBEN! OHAYO!" About 30 seconds later, she had run out the gate and we were chatting outside about... well... nothing, since we have difficulty communicating.

The excitement was not limited to young teachers. Students also seemed happy to see me. One kid, the student who was the first to grab my crotch, seemed especially delighted... thankfully for reasons that had nothing to do with my crotch. He appparently recalled only one word from my self introduction, with that word being "Crazy." When I would see him, everything was, well, crazy. He would point at me and yell "crazy!" He would point at himself and yell "crazy!" He would point at teachers, fellow students, plants, books, my stuffed monkey, and even once a pencil case and call them crazy. I found it amusing, but I'm pretty sure the pencil case's feelings were hurt.

It's amazing how much things can change in a year. For Halloween this year, I stayed in my apartment in Japan cooking sweet potatoes. For Halloween last year, I was face down in a ditch in Bowling Green with a sprained ankle, various cuts and bruises, and more alcohol then I really needed in my body. I can't help but feel that, except for the Japan part, I've taken a step backward.

Old Friends

I realized tonight, while eating dinner, that there is no way I would be able to successfully return to the States and not lose my mind. You see, I was having my dinner at Sukiya, a chain restaurant here in Japan that serves two of my favorite Japanese foods: Gyudon and Japanese Curry. It's also somewhat like fast food, but really, you couldn't compare it to your local McDonald's or Wendy's. Unlike American fast food joints, the food is tasty, marginally healthy, excellent service, and you can smoke in the restaurants. That last bit is the aforementioned reason I would have difficulty returning to America.

Japan is very much a smoker's country. You can smoke anywhere, and really, it brings a tear to my eye thinking of how wonderful such a thing is. You can smoke in bars, restaurants, on the street, on train platforms, and even in some government buildings. What more can I ask for? I truly am in some sort of paradise.

In addition to smoking still being socially acceptable, I've also found my two friends Pall and Mall over here. Just like in the U.S., they are delicious, slow burning, and cheaper than most other cigarettes. Oh how delighted I am to be reunited with such comforting and inexpensive pals. God bless you, Pall and Mall, and God bless you Japan, for not yet having given in to the evil forces of the "pinkies" (those of you still with pink lungs).

For those of you that know my musical tastes, you'll know that hip hop was never among my favorite musical selections. That was before I discovered the beautiful amusement that is Japanese hip hop. While I've heard some of it before, and indeed it was always worth a laugh, I never listened to it en masse until signing up for Tsutaya, a movie and music rental place (Another reason to love Japan: you can rent cds, and at the cd rental place, they sell blank cds at the counter. Ingenious!). For lack of anything better to do, I picked up some random selections in the hip hop section. I highly recommend such award winners as Soul'D Out, Rhymester, and the wonderfully named Kick the Can Crew. Band names just don't get any better than they do here.

I had realized tonight a small amount of... I guess irony... that I find amusing (but others may not, but I don't care, it's my blog. I am not here to amuse you. What am I, your Japanese clown?). When deciding upon a high school for me to go to, I had wanted to go to Shaler Area High School, the local public school, because they offered a Japanese language program. My mother wanted me to go to North Catholic High School, so that I would be closer to Jesus and the Catholic church. Unfortunately, she won out, as she's my mother. Now, fast forward a little over 10 years, I don't know Japanese but I need to, and I have a certain amount of contempt for organized religion, the Catholic church in particular, while living in a country that's about as secular as it gets. Go figure.

Learning the Language

I’ve been told that my Japanese is getting better. I’m told this on an almost daily basis. Sometimes, people even say that my Japanese is very good. I know that they’re just being polite. Take, for instance, the following conversation that I had:

Japanese Person (JP): Why are you here at the board of education and not at school?

Me: Class not.

JP: Oh, I see.

Me: 2^nd years, where they go? I don’t know. 3^rd years present college students. 1^st years I don’t know.

JP: Oh, I see.

Me: Here I come. Here Japanese study. Nishi last. Next week Higashi.

JP: Oh, I see. Your Japanese is very good!

I feel like a drunken hillbilly child. Not only does my Japanese ability seem more like the words of babies, I can’t seem to use it when I need it most. While at the board of education, I was, out of boredom, typing up a journal entry. A man I have never seen before comes up right behind me and starts staring at the computer screen over my shoulder. I look at him and he says “I can’t read English.” Ok, I figured as much. Most Japanese can’t. So… yes? He then sits down next to me and starts staring at me. I figured he was expecting some sort of response, so I just said, “I can’t read Japanese.” Now, I’m not sure what this did. On one hand, I could have sparked his curiosity and, having just said a Japanese phrase, he might have assumed I can speak Japanese. On the other hand, he could have realized that, in some small way, I was mocking him, and thus became very angry. I don’t know and, since I can’t speak Japanese, I will never know. Regardless of the answer, he went into this tirade. He just started talking, and wouldn’t stop. Whatever he said must have been interesting, because he was obviously getting excited, but I’ll be damned if I know. This went on for about five minutes; he just kept talking and would not stop. After a while, he finished his speech, and resumed staring. Once again, I figured I should say something. I then resorted to what I always say when I don’t understand what’s being told to me. I simply say in Japanese, “Yes!”

Of course, I’ve found this is a really bad idea. Through a bizarre series of events and about five office ladies talking to me in Japanese, during which I just kept saying “はい” (that means yes), I think I just agreed to cook sweat potatoes for the entire office on Wednesday. I’m not sure how we got to that point, but we did, and I think I’m cooking.

Then there are times when it can be somewhat… scary. I was just handed a sheet of paper that had a plethora of pictures of spiders on it and a bunch of Japanese writing. Confused, I asked the lady who gave it to me. Naturally, she speaks no English, and all I could understand was: spider, Australia, Joyo, many, dangerous, you die. That’s all. So, now, I must begin my battle with the many dangerous Australian spiders, because if they bite you, you die. Now if only I could tell what kind of spiders are the dangerous Australian ones, but I don’t know that much Japanese to ask.

The Realm of Not Understanding

Today was an eventful day in which absolutely nothing happened. The day started when I woke up from a particularly unpleasant dream. I won’t detail what the dream was about, but it certainly felt like an omen of things to come. I went to Nishi for the final time this year, and when I entered the teacher’s room, the entire place was empty. I mean, no one was there. Confused, I sat down at my desk and began studying some Japanese. Let me tell you, Japanese teachers’ rooms are freaky places when no one is there. It’s something that can’t be explained, and can only be experienced… but trust me when I say you don’t want to.

Eventually, Okazaki-sensei came running into the room. She’s an English teacher, and at the tender age of 28, she’s the youngest teacher I’ve had the pleasure of working with. She’s also the only Japanese person I’ve yet to see here with an ass, but that’s a different story. Regardless, she’s definitely my favorite person to work with to date, and it saddens me that I won’t be back at Nishi this year to work with her again. I also found out that she’ll probably be transferring to another school in April, so in all likelihood, I’d never see her again, which is sad. Really fun person.

Anyway, I stopped Okazaki to find out what she was doing. At that moment, she had to hurry and get tea for the guests of the school. Apparently, being the youngest female teacher (there is a male teacher who’s younger, but his penis excludes him from this) she needs to act as hostess. The school had guests, and in Japan, guests must be served tea. Someone has to serve the tea, so the rationale is that the youngest female staff member has to do it. Ah, sexism in Japan.

After she got the tea, I asked her where everyone was. Apparently, the ninensei were on a school trip somewhere. At least that’s what I think they’re on. She just said they are “having an experience outside school.” That can mean way too many things. Anyway, that’s where the ninensei and their teachers were, the sannensei were going to have presentations by college students (the aforementioned guests), and the ichinensei… well… I have no idea where they were.

Without anything better to do, I decided to go to the first of the college presentations in the gym. While there, I had two stunning revelations. One was the behavior of the students. Normally kids at Nishi won’t sit still for more than a minute without doing something, typically beating each other over the head (a very common pastime among Japanese JHS students). Additionally, I’ve never seen a Nishi student fully in their uniform. You typically get the idea of Japanese schools with students who are all dressed in uniform, shirts tucked in, wearing the proper attire, etc. This is true at some schools, but not at Nishi. There’s almost always some sort of nonregulation clothing addition, whether it is simply not wearing the jacket or just wearing the uniform pants and a t-shirt that says Playboy. Today, in the gym, all the students sat still, listened, took notes, and were in correct uniforms…

I can only rationalize that this is because here in Japan, way too much pressure is put on students to succeed at an early age. You begin preparing for university in exams in elementary school, and I personally think that may be one factor in the fucked-up-ness of this country.

The second realization came in regards to myself. The presentation lasted for an hour and a half. University students talked about college, and junior high students asked about getting in to college. I think I understood a total of two words spoken, and yet I sat there for the whole time. Think of this. You’re in a gymnasium, of your own will, listening intently to words you cannot comprehend. How the hell did I get myself into this situation? I’m just not completely sure exactly why I thought moving to Japan when I don’t understand Japanese was a good idea. Granted, I still think it’s a good idea, but then again I’ve never been a very balanced individual.

After the presentation, I sat at my desk some more, and quickly became bored. With no students or teachers around, I couldn’t rationalize staying at the school. So, I decided to head to my Board of Education (where I go when I have no classes) and bid Nishi goodbye. I sought out the vice principal to tell him I was leaving, and found him wandering the hallways. I was immediately floored by the fact that he was walking around in a Slippery Rock University T-Shirt. Those of you who know Slippery Rock already have an idea of how screwed up that is. Those of you who don’t, well, you therefore get the idea of why it’s bizarre to find a Japanese vice-principal walking around in a T-Shirt endorsing Slippery Rock. I asked him about the shirt, thinking maybe he went to university as a transfer student in America and happened to, for some god only knows what reason, attend Slippery Rock. This was not the case, however. He bought the shirt at the Japanese equivalent of a thrift store. What the hell was a Slippery Rock T-Shirt doing at a Japanese thrift store? I will never know and I think I’m happy to keep it that way.

Suspicious Characters

At every school, the teachers have a different unofficial smoking area. At Joyo Chu I had to walk across the street, around the corner, and into a park. At Kita, I just had to stand around the corner from the school, and at Higashi, I went down the street a little ways, but I’ve heard rumors that in school there’s a smoking room… something I’ll have to investigate once I return there next week.

At my current school, Nishi, I smoke right outside the school gate. I figure this is a good place to smoke, largely because all the other teachers smoke there. Well, they do when I’m not there. I’ve found that I get different reactions from teachers. The smoking core at Nishi seems to hate or fear me, one of the two. If I am outside smoking and they see me, they either a) stop and turn around or b) walk down to the street and around the corner. If they’re out there before I am, and I try to join them, see b) above. It makes me feel like I have the plague, but that’s ok. All the nonsmokers seem to like me.

Anyway, today I was smoking outside when the vice principal comes running out of the school, out of the gate, and down the street, looking around like a man possessed. He eventually stops, scratches his head, turns around, and finally sees me. Then, he breathes a gigantic sigh of relief, laughs a little, and starts to walk back into school.

Dumbfounded, I stopped his progress and asked him what was wrong. He said that a concerned individual had called the school reporting that a suspicious person was lurking outside of the school gates smoking, and that said person feared for the safety of the students. He immediately went out to investigate, because the safety of the students is primarily the responsibility of the teachers. I know it’s theoretically the same in America, but here it’s different. One teacher has told me that should a suspicious or dangerous person enter school grounds, it is the teachers’ responsibility to essentially bum rush that person, trying to stop them through the sheer wait of numbers. Should a teacher fall, that’s ok, you just keep pressing forward, attacking the suspect.

On the previous subject of the smokers here at Nishi, there’s one teacher who apparently has a large amount of dislike for me. I have no idea why, but he doesn’t make any effort to show it. For example, today during lunch I was sitting with the teachers. When Smoking Douchebag came over, there were several seats open, but only one still had food at it, and as usual it was right next to me. He walked over to the open seat, looked at the food, looked at the empty seats, looked at me, looked at the food, looked at me, frowned, looked at the food, looked at me, then sighing, sat down and attempted to scoot his chair as far away from me as space allowed. This entire process took no longer than two minutes. My response was simple: I moved my chair close to his and attempted to engage him in conversation.

My Work of Art

I have a real love/hate relationship with my job. On the one hand, I absolutely love what I do. Teaching English in Japan is perhaps one of the most fun things I have ever done in my life, and I recommend it for anyone. You never know what to expect from these kids, and they’ll always surprise you, whether they know more English then you expect (fuck your sumimasen), just sit there in class and stare at you in complete confusion and apathy, or make an attempt to grab your junk (which, I’m happy to say, hasn’t happened in a while).

On the other hand, I really hate some aspects of my job. I’m at Nishi Joyo right now, and I have two days left here. Then I leave, and don’t return for at least a year. I’ll never see these sannensei again in my life, and by the time I return, most of the students will have forgotten me. The teachers realize I’m here for such a short time, and thus find little reason to start any type of communication. Also, while I can tell that while I’m here I make a difference in the students’ ability, once I leave any progress I’ve made will be offset once more by half assed teachers and a lack of interest in English. So, really, what’s the point?

Still, though, I’m learning to enjoy the time I do have at each school. Here at Nishi, I experience something I never thought in my life would happen. If I walk down the ninensei hall, a group of girls will start chanting my name while doing an impromptu dance. How often in your life can you say that you spur people into spontaneous song and dance routines? I thought the same thing.

In class, we’ve been learning about Halloween. I give a little spiel about what you do on Halloween, and then I introduce some Halloween words. They’re simple things, like ghosts, carving pumpkins, trick or treat, black cat, etc. For the most part, when I’m talking about Halloween and explaining the words, the kids don’t give a damn, which is completely understandable. Then, we play pictionary… and that’s when the fun begins.

When a teacher asked me to think up a game for the Halloween lesson, I chose pictionary simply because Suzie and I were talking about it last week. I didn’t think either the teacher or the students would go for it, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. The students, even the bad students who typically sleep in class, really get into the idea. Their pictures, however, are not always what I’d expect.

For example, one round in a sannensei class, I gave the word “mummy.” One group’s artist proceeded to draw a gigantic penis. I was walking around the classroom, and of course noticed the gigantic penis on the paper, and pointed at it and said, “What the heck are you doing?” The student apologized and quickly drew bandages wrapping said penis. The group immediately guessed the correct answer.

Today I also had a unique experience to involve myself in Japanese traditional craft making… or something like that. For the final two periods of the day, artisans from Kyoto came in to teach the ninensei how to make this Japanese piece of… art… and then each student got to try their hand at it. Naturally, not wanting to miss such an opportunity, I joined right in.

Said artwork is actually much more basic than I made it seem. Essentially, you take a sheet of copper. Then, with a hammer and chisel, you make a series of indentations in the copper of a design you previously drew. The copper is then covered in with these funky gold flakes, and the result, if done properly, is actually kind of pretty. Not being able to draw, I printed out the kanji (Kanji means Japanese writing. Are you happy, Joe?) for Walrus (海象) and decided that would be my design.

Now, I know this sounds rather simple. Just hammer a series of dots, right? I figured much the same until I started. Upon hitting the chisel for the first time, I was immediately assaulted by the three Japanese artisans assigned to my classroom, speaking in very harsh tones and then taking away my hammer and chisel. At this point, I was a little scared (I had seemingly angry Japanese people now armed standing over me) and sad (I wanted to make my copper plate, dammit!).

Thankfully, all I had done was hit the thing way too hard and put a hole in the copper and a dent in the desk. After the artisans showed me repeatedly how to properly hammer the chisel, I was allowed to resume my work. I should also mention here that throughout this entire endeavor, I took up the attention of the artisans. They were supposed to help the 35 students in the classroom, but instead, they just helped me. I love being a foreigner.

After most students finished their projects, I just hung around chatting with the teacher. Soon, a plethora of the boys decided it was time to test my might. I was then involved in about 20 arm wrestling matches. I am proud to say I won, but the last 10 or so got to be kind of difficult. This was not because I tired, but rather the students, in a desperate attempt to beat me, began to cheat. First they used two hands, but it ended up instead just two boys grabbing my arm and pulling it to one side. I’m glad to know that if it even became necessary, I have more strength in my right arm then two 14-year-old Japanese boys. This may come in handy if they should start going for my junk again.

During the arm wrestling matches, one of the male teachers wandered into the classroom, and joined in the battle of strength with the students. However, once I sat down across from him, he fled the room. I mean, he just ran the hell out of there.

I strike terror in the hearts of the Japanese.

Students do the Crazy

My current school is known as the “bad” school. According to most teachers, it has the most “naughty” students in it (I find the regular use of the term “naughty to describe bad kids to be amusing). Well, now that I’ve been here for a week, I must conclude that, yes, it has the most undisciplined students of any of the other schools, but it also has the most outgoing and fun students. I only have this school for two weeks this entire year, and that pisses me off so much. Even though I’m sick and doped up on cold medication, I’ve never had so much fun teaching and walking the halls in my life. Just hysterical.

Take, for instance, today during cleaning time. I was hanging out with the sannensei, and there were four boys just lounging around, one of which holding a broom. They started just saying random English words, and then the Japanese translation: thank you arigato; goodbye sayonara. Stuff like that. Eventually, one of them says “excuse me sumimasen,” and at that the boy with the broom yells out, with a near complete lack of accent “FUCK YOUR SUMIMASEN!” He promptly hurls the broom like a javelin full force into the belly of the one boy who hasn’t said anything and then proceeded to judo throw the kid that originally said “sumimasen” to the ground. I was half expecting a fight, but then they all just started laughing and yelling out “fuck your sumimasen.” The last I saw of them, they were wandering down the hallway, continuing to yell out their little phrase.

There were several sannensei’s scrubbing the crap out of the hallway floor (I wish I knew how they motivate kids to clean this much). I was standing nearby, laughing at their determination and hard work, when I started talking to one sannensei girl, who spoke uncannily good English. So, I’m asking her questions, when I see this one boy keep jokingly pushing over one of the scrubbing girls. I ask about this, and she says that the two are dating. I say that’s cute, and the boy walks over and says something to me in Japanese. I look to the English-speaking girl for translation, and she says, with some difficulty “He says he has the sex with her.”

Then there’s this one girl who constantly runs up to me, waves her hands in front of my face, yells “WHOA!!!!!” and then bolts the hell out sight. I mean, she disappears with total ninja skills.

It really disheartens me that I’ll never see any of these sannensei again, and since the schedule is screwed up because of midterms, I only have each class once in the course of my time here. There’s got to be someway to change this system, and I know just the man to do it… now I just have to convince Ray to put forth that much work.

A Quiet Night Out

The other night I went to a local bar with Ray, Suzie, and some of Suzie's Japanese friends. The name of the place is "Guy's Bar" and its both owned and run by a guy named Jun. Jun's in his mid thirties, and is, perhaps, the most amusing man I've ever met. I'd like to describe why exactly, but really, it's impossible, both because words would never do the man justice, but also because of the amount of everclear shots he was giving me to drink.

Regardless, perhaps one of the most memorable pieces of 'Engrish' I've yet to encounter came from Jun when I asked why he called it Guy's Bar. He responded saying "no, no, no, not guy's, gay's." Then, he pointed at me and repeatedly thrust his hips shouting "oh, oh, oh, steben, steben, fuck you haad, steben." Just ridiculous. But then he showed me pictures of his 1 year old child and then placed a portable dvd player in front of me and put in a porn dvd, so things were a little weird, but still, amusing.

He also had us doing drawing competitions of various sexual organs, and proceeded to have everyone in the bar, in turn, arm wrestle me. I must say I held my own, but by the 7th guy my arm was too tired to win.

Strangeness.

I prayed it would never happen

I have learned that every day in Japan, I will experience something new. That much is certain. Today, for example, I learned the shock, horror, and discomfort of being rectally violated by the fingers of a thirteen year old boy. Let me explain.

Today, one of the teachers, Junko, asked me to join her for a class I wasn’t scheduled to participate in. Apparently, those who come up with the schedule only include AETs in classes where there is an activity. We are not included into normal everyday instruction. Junko, however, still sees the value in having me in any class, and so will ask me to join in additional classes. She is, of course, quite correct, as I’m able to assist in many ways, and I prefer it. I also just enjoy teaching with Junko because she’s easily one of the best teachers I’ve ever encountered. Plus, she’s young, attractive, and I have a date with her on Sunday.

In this class, the students (ichinensei) were learning pronouns, and while Junko was explaining, I was walking around the classroom making sure students weren’t sleeping (which happens much more than you might expect). I soon learned my folly.

In Japan, a handkerchief is essential for daily living for a variety of reasons, none of which I’m going to get into now. I always have my handkerchiefs hanging out of my back pocket. Students, of course, always try to grab them, especially when I have my blue one (apparently, some famous Japanese baseball star always uses a blue handkerchief, so for some reason, the comparisons are always made).

Today, while walking down one row, I feel my handkerchief stolen and immediately spin around to catch the culprit. Too late I learned this was a coordinated effort. As the one boy distracted me, a second boy right behind me kanchoed me. See previous posts for an explanation of a kancho, but real quick: essentially, it involves ramming your fingers up someone’s ass, and is a popular “game” amongst Japanese students. I had never before had this happen to me, and I pray to god it never happens again. Let me just say that it is not pleasant. The feelings of shock alone are enough to leave you stammering “what the fuck…” but the sudden realization that you’ve just been violated in such a way makes your mind snap into a realm of unpleasant insanity.

The rest of the class I avoided that row, because the student, amused by my reaction of “NO, THAT IS NOT COOL!!!!” became ever ready to catch me unawares. After class, I saw him approaching me out of the corner of my eye, and rather then try to confront him or defend myself, I simply ran in fear.

I eat lunch with one of the ninensei classes, and there’s this one kid who always tries to grab my sides or my crotch. While he’s succeeded in getting the sides, his attempts at my crotch have ended (thankfully) in failure. Today, though, he was incredibly gung ho. After continually sneaking up behind me all ninja like and grabbing my sides lost its fun for him, he went on a full frontal attack. I ended up grabbing him by the wrists and attempting to push him away. Naturally, I’m quite a bit stronger than he is, but god almighty was he determined to grab my junk. It took every bit of awareness, strength, and quickness I have to continually thwart his penis grasping attempts.

God this country is fucked up.

There's this one ninensei girl who, every time she sees me, puts her hands in the shape of a gun, points it at me, and says "bang." While this was marginally entertaining at first, it's long since gotten redundant, and so I figured I should find out what the deal is. I asked the girl why she repeatedly does this, and she took a moment to think. She then responded in English "I love to bang." Ah, the accidental perversion of my students.

There's a Bed in Back

As I think I might have mentioned, October is a month for festivals. Last night, Makiko-san from the Joyo International Exchange Association and her friend Kaori-san (who is just absolutely delicious) went to the first part of a two-day festival and took me and Ray with them. This particular festival goes like this: they cut down a tree from a local shrine each year, and then burn it in a giant bonfire. Since gods inhabit the shrine, and thus the wood, warming yourself by the fire means the gods bless you. Thus, if you warm yourself by this fire, you will not get sick for the next year. It’s really pretty cool.

Last night, though, it was raining rather heavily, and so the four of us were the only people to come check out the bonfire. Today, the area will be awash with people and shops and games, but last night, it was just a giant fire, a priest, the local volunteer fire department, and us. Tomorrow when the festivities begin, a small portable shrine will be paraded around the area. Said shrine is housed in what was referred to as a community building, where the aforementioned fire department had set up shop for the night.

Upon seeing us, one of the firefighters outside attending to the fire invited us into the community building to check out the little shrines. Inside, since there weren’t any people around to caution about the fire, and since the rain kept the fire to a minimum, the volunteer firefighters were just hanging out in the community building drinking beer eating. Upon seeing the foreigner (they initially thought Ray was Japanese) there was all kinds of excitement. I was invited to drink with them, and while I tried to politely turn down the offer, they considered it too… how should I say… unique of an experience to miss out on drinking with a foreigner. I was forcibly sat down and beer was put in front of me.

This became my first real taste of celebrity foreigner status. As you may know, in Japan, you don’t pour your own drinks, and it’s sometimes considered an honor to pour the drinks of guests. My glass would be empty for less than a second before it was immediately refilled. This was good in that I now had unlimited free beer, but bad in that I had to teach the next day. I felt like I was being interviewed, or maybe interrogated, by the onslaught of questions I was asked, and I feel really bad for Ray, as he had to constantly act as interpreter.

Whenever someone new would walk into the room, there would be the immediate exclamation of “OH! Gaijin!!!!” Then, questions would be asked as to what exactly a gaijin is doing drinking with the firefighters, and more excitement would typically be generated.

Most of the men were already quite drunk, and questions typically leaned towards my status as a single male. For one of the guys, who talked to me the most, he could not understand why I was not spending every night having sex with a harem of Japanese women. That was actually a translated quote. When I explained that not speaking Japanese created difficulties in picking up women, he immediately decided he would rectify the situation. His goal for the rest of the evening was to try and set me up with Kaori, which while one would think is awesome at first, considering the fact that she’s attractive and really nice, I don’t think a wasted 40 year-old saying to her that “they have a bed in the building” (once again a translated quote) really helped me win her over.

I do believe my Japanese is getting better. I’m now able to ask questions rather successfully, typically who, what, where, when, why. Unfortunately, I have no idea what the answers are. For example, today at school, I ventured out to have a smoke. At Joyo Chu, the smoking situation kinda sucks, because instead of just walking outside the gates to get my nicotine addiction, I have to walk around the block to a little pavilion to have a cigarette.

When I arrived there, I noticed a Japanese high school student sitting there, thankfully not smoking (as that would have put me in a conundrum of trying to explain that smoking is bad). I then began to, for no particular reason, grill him on where he goes to school and why he’s not there. I asked him where he’s from and what grade he is. Really, I just wanted to practice my Japanese on this poor kid. He gave me answers, but I have no idea what he said. For all I know, he was plotting the conquest of Latvia, but I just sat there and smiled, replying “Is that so” to all of his responses. It’s kind of depressing how often I say that. People could be telling me anything from “I love you” to “I just killed a small child and I’m blaming the murder on you” and my only response is a smile, a nod, and “is that so.”

Today in class, we were doing a speaking test. Each student would come out into the hallway, and we would do a practice dialogue that they had memorized. The first line was “Please help yourself.” One student came out, and instead, simply stated in a loud voice “PLEASE YOURSELF!” I’m not sure, but I think she just commanded me to masturbate in the hallway. Several other students made the same mistake, but I think the worst was when one young girl came into the hallway and shouted “PLEASE ME!” I’m glad she didn’t understand why I started laughing uncontrollably.

Music to clean to

Today, not only did they replay some Copacabana during cleaning time, but it was followed by... you guessed it... the theme from Spy Hunter, and cleaning time was concluded with the theme from Love Boat.

I don't know where the hell they get this stuff.

Bound and Essentially Gagged

So I’ve had quite a few interesting experiences of late, which is probably why I haven’t written here in a while. However, I will now share two brief tidbits of… well… strangeness.

October is apparently the time for festivals in Japan. Each area has its own local festival, and these festivals are typically quite small. Small, but really nice. Think of your local church festival, or the fair for a local fire hall. That’s the type of thing they have. Only, at these, you may find something a little bit different from your average little games and really good food. Take the Terada Matsuri (matsuri being the word for festival, and terada being the area of Joyo I live). In the middle of the festival there was a wooden platform, where, if you paid a thousand yen, some people on the stage would beat drums and this woman in a traditional dress would dance around with a sword and then bless you. I likened it to a religious strip club.

On Sunday, I was supposed to head down to Tonosho matsuri, one station down from me. I was really excited about going, because a teacher I met at Kita plays taiko (and if you don’t know what that is, or my love for it, you probably don’t know me). Anyway, said teacher was going to perform with her troupe on that day, so I was going to go watch her play (and at some point in the future, maybe join her group).

Well, on this particular day, it was raining, so apparently the festival got cancelled. I found this out after walking aimlessly around in unknown territory looking for some sign of life, probably for about an hour or two. While walking around, I came upon a small building with the door open. Inside I noticed one of the portable shrines for these sorts of festivals, so figured I would ask them what’s going on. As we all know, I don’t speak Japanese. As I’ve learned, the average Japanese doesn’t speak English. This is what I was able to communicate, I think:

I am looking for a festival
I like taiko drums.
In this area, there is a park.

They in turn communicated:
No festival right now.
What taiko?
Come inside.

A bunch more was said, but I’ll be damned if I know what it was.

Anyway, I came inside to the very small building, which was packed with festival… stuff, people running around doing things, and a bunch of probably late elementary/early junior high girls dressed in a traditional festival outfit. Then, the lady that invited me in, comes up to me. Without saying a word, she removes my bag then takes my umbrella. Then, she opens my bag and takes out my camera. I was starting to feel nervous when suddenly the tall guy that I had first tried to talk to me grabs me by the shoulders from behind. All I could think of at this point was “this is it. I’ve truly offended the Japanese, and now they’re going to violate me as a punishment.” The woman goes into a back room, while I am being held, and returns with this little blue coat, much like the ones the young girls were wearing. Still without saying anything to me, her and the tall man try to forcibly put me into this coat. Let me just say, it was made for young Japanese girls… not a walrus.

After getting it close to being on me, I then realized that I couldn’t move. The coat completely restricted any and all movements. Now, I was definitely screwed (and not in a pleasant way). She leads me over to the portable shrine, and now my thoughts are “Oh, good, no anal violation, just cutting off my head as tribute to… something.” Thankfully, all my fears were unfounded. The woman began posing me, and it seemed like photographers suddenly came out of the woodwork. Flashes were going off like crazy, and they just kept posing me, giving me different things to hold, putting different people next to me… It was an experience.

Today was my second day at yet another new school (dear god, I’m getting tired of changing so often). During cleaning time, every school plays music. I’ve mostly been exposed to odd classical stuff, but today, at Joyo JHS, they played Barry Manilow’s Copacabana, sans Barry’s voice. Upon hearing this music, I did the only thing I could think of… I began dancing through the halls singing along. I don’t know what compelled me to do this. It was rather… uncharacteristic of me. But, the students enjoyed it, I won’t deny it was fun, and it was just a compulsion.

Oh, and I have a date with one of the teachers.