CHRISTMAS TIME IS HERE

Shortly before American Thanksgiving, Yosh-sensei approached me to discuss the oral exam for the first years.  Each student was to meet individually with me and DL, and Yosh wondered what the rest of the class would do while they were waiting.  "Well," I said, "I was thinking we'd do some sort of Thanksgiving worksheet or puzzle."  "Ah. Hmm," came the response with a side tilt of the head (a dead giveaway of disapproval).  I waited.  "I was thinking..." he said with a glint in his eye, "they could make CHRISTMAS cards!!" I opened my mouth to point out that it was still November, and then realized that this was a meaningless battle, and in fact, introducing Christmas before Thanksgiving was entirely culturally appropriate considering that most American stores had their Christmas decorations out before Halloween. So instead I said, "That sounds great.  I'll bring the paper and markers."   

And so I sit, with a stack of 120 Christmas cards on my desk, many of which are absolute gems.  Hallmark should market these, if not for the aesthetics, then for the wonderful wording and sentiment.  Please enjoy.

This card was drawn by one of my favorite students.  When I told him the difference between "Marry" and "Merry," he slapped his forehead and said, "Mistake! Big Mistake!" When he handed in his card, he had added Santa hauling an "E" to replace the "A." Ingenious. 

"Let's party. Today comes Santasan."

When the student turned this in, she made a big deal of showing me the Christmas "moncky"

Front of the card.

Inside says: "It's unbearably cold."

A bunch of boys got together to draw this one.  I'm not sure why Santa looks like The Gimp from Pulp Fiction. Or why he has a sword.

"Merry Christmas. Christmas will be on Tuesday this year.  I wish you a Merry Christmas!"

Written by one of the boys.  "Thank you! I enjoyed date with you. I'll send this card with a gift for you. I hope you happy."

"Dear Ms. Erizubesu, I go to dinner with me. Let's a party."

MEETING THE ZAO GONGEN

First frost in Nara last week, and now we settle into the inevitability of winter. I'm already nostalgic for the fall.  The Japanese are incredibly proud of their four distinct seasons, and rightly so.  Autumn in Japan is a glorious affair, with fairly temperate weather and riotous color.  As I make a return to sleeping in long underwear and fuzzy pajama pants, wool socks, 2 shirts, a fleece, and a ski cap, I offer a photographic homage to fall's peak this year.

Nara Park, Nara

Nara Park, Nara

The Yoshino Mountains, the most infamous viewing spot in Kansai for cherry blossoms in the spring, was a prime spot for fall foliage this year.  We followed the winding trail up Mt. Kinpu to Kinpusenji Temple, reportedly the second largest wooden structure in Japan.  I had been told that it was well worth it to see the "Blue Buddhas," which are unveiled only once a year for a few weeks.  Except they aren't Buddhas.  These three fearsome blue statues are actually called Zao Gongen, and are Buddhist representations of a Shinto mountain spirit.  Each figure represents a different period of time; past, present and future.  Their blue skin signifies ego, and the vajra (thunderbolt) is held in a threatening gesture meant to symbolize the striking down of evil.  

The Blue Buddha, Yoshino

Further up the trail, we hit a row of shops, and slowed to inspect the horagai, or trumpets made from conch shells.  The horagai are played by the yamabushi, Buddhist warrior monks, who incorporate the instruments in various rituals.  We stopped outside one of the shops, and the owner, a dapper and friendly man, offered to give us an impromptu lesson in conch-blowing.  

First, grip the conch shell with two hands, so that the fingers of one hand curl into the shell.  The other hand wraps around the mouthpiece.  Keep your lips together, and breathe into your diaphragm, forcing the air from your abdomen instead of your mouth.  Alas, the notes that I blew were high-pitched and scratchy, not the deep, bass tones I had hoped for.  However, the shop keeper seemed pleased that I had produced any sound at all, so I took it as a small victory.   

Victory!

We dallied for a while after our lesson to talk to the shop owner, Ota-san.  He was delighted to learn that we were from America, and immediately decided that we must be from San Francisco, ignoring us when we told him that we hailed from Chicago and Texas.  His father, he said, had traveled to San Francisco in 1939 as part of the Golden Gate International Exposition.  His father had been chosen to represent Japan as a wood carver, and Ota-san had a wide range of memorabilia from his father's trip, including passport photos, maps of San Francisco, pamphlets and brochures from the fair, etc.  He then offered us tea and took us through photo albums of various trips he had taken over the course of his life: Las Vegas, Los Angeles, Cambodia, Thailand, Laos, China, Australia, etc.  Here was this man who lives in a tiny village on a remote mountain in Japan, but has traveled all over the world and is genuinely fascinated by foreign cultures.  It was remarkable.  We spent far longer than we meant to in his shop, but it was absolutely worthwhile to hear his stories and to form a surprising connection over our homeland.  

KUUKI YOMENAI

Sometimes over the course of a Japanese conversation you'll hear someone say KY, which has nothing to do with personal lubricant and stands for kuuki yomenai.  Curious, I asked one of my students one day what this meant.  "Oh," she said, coloring a little. "It means 'can't read the air.' It's not a good thing," she said as an afterthought.  KY is essentially when someone can't read a situation properly, like that guy at parties who walks up to someone they haven't seen in a long time and starts asking questions about the other person's significant other, not realizing that everyone else is shifting uncomfortably and the respondent is giving one-word answers because the couple recently had a nasty break up.  People usually feel embarrassed about these kinds of slip ups when they come to light, but in Japan, they're a deep source of shame.  

Foreigners are particularly prone to being KY, especially cultures that are accustomed to communicating in a "shoot from the hip" manner.  This straightforwardness can come off as aggressive or confrontational to the Japanese, who try to evade such rudeness by avoiding saying things that are negative, like the word, "No."  It takes time and experience to be able to "read the air" and fathom what's going on in these nebulous situations.  

For example, you might approach your boss with a proposal and receive the response, "Hmm, muzukashii" (difficult). But what does that mean? Where on the yes-no-maybe spectrum does that fall? If you answered, "no," then you're correct.  "Muzukashii" is code for, "Nope. Not going to happen."  This ambiguity is meant in the nicest way possible, allowing people to save face.  However, it can be frustrating for those who can't read the signs and just want a clear cut answer.  JETs have dozens of stories in this vein, from asking for feedback on their teaching and being told they were doing fine and didn't need to improve, to questioning a compliment someone paid them and wondering if it was really a backhanded criticism (it's usually not a good sign when someone says, "Oh, that skirt is interesting," or, "You wear such bright shirts.") Thus, it is nearly impossible to get certain kinds of feedback in Japanese society, or even to learn peoples' opinions on particular topics. So I was surprised at my most recent meeting with the grannies, when they began to hold forth on foreign policy.  

The conversation started when Current Events Granny said, out of the blue, "Obama doesn't care about America's relationship with Japan."  Taken aback, I looked around the table to gauge the others' reaction, and found them all nodding vigorously, saying, "Yes! It's true, isn't it, Eri-sensei?"  Current Events Granny continued, "He only cares about China and South Korea! I know that Japan's economy is not good. It is a big worry.  I know that our population is getting smaller, but..."  The end to this sentence was clear: "But he should take us seriously!" Apparently the country was chapped when the American government didn't come out with a stronger stance against China's aggression over the Senkaku Islands.  Never mind that nothing and no one lives there and the "islands" are essentially two barren rocks.  Pride is everything. 

The source of all the trouble: Senkaku Islands

So there I was in the diplomatic hot seat, feeling as though I needed to defend my homeland and the foreign policies of a man I've never met.  I tried to argue that America feels secure in its relationship with Japan as we do with the United Kingdom or Germany, but that we have to pick our battles (they liked this idiomatic expression) and shore up some of the priorities in the Pacific, like China, who has huge financial power but is somewhat prickly and erratic, and South Korea, which is a stable country friendly to the US, but is next door to a country that is definitely prickly and incredibly erratic.  I didn't mention that it's also probably in Japan's best interest for America to maintain a good relationship with China especially, to give us leverage when the Chinese government flies off the handle about things as minute as a couple of rocks in the ocean.  I'm not sure that this convinced the grannies, who were feeling rather cantankerous, but the discussion did shift to the emerging world powers, particularly BRICS.   I commented as an aside that I couldn't figure out how Russia made that list, and Current Events Granny exploded, "Putin! I dislike him!"  Shocking!  The Western equivalent of this statement would be: "Putin! What a mother$%#*@*!" Before we could delve into this latest outburst, Lone Grandpa started asking me about the history of Israel and Palestine.  Honestly, I know less than I would like about this history, and so I ended up giving a brief sketch of the book of Genesis with Abraham, Sarah and Hagar and then jumped way into the future with the end of WWII and the creation of the state of Israel, leaving out a millennium or two of history in between.  The group sat through all this quietly, diligently taking notes, and when I finished, Lone Grandpa's response was: "Israel. They are troublemakers." "I know!" said Beatles Granny, "Since ancient times!"  It appeared no one was to be spared the wrath of the grannies this day.    

However, the group will be happy to know that Japan's refusal to go quietly into that goodnight is being noticed by the Western world.  The Japanese military is starting to reach out to some of its Pacific neighbors (and beyond) to train foreign militaries in Japanese tactics and strategies.  It should be noted that the readiness with which some of these countries have accepted Japan's overtures (many of whom had less than pleasant experiences under Japanese imperialism) is a testament to just how nervous China makes everyone.  It will be fascinating to see what comes of these collaborations, and what, if any, effect it will have on diplomacy in Asia, not to mention the Japanese military.  Will they expand their defense systems, or will things remain as they are?  

TOTO SAN

On their recent visit to Japan, my aunt and uncle spoke frequently of their need "to visit TOTO-san."  TOTO is the leading manufacturer of Washlet toilets in Japan, which are some of the most technologically advanced thrones in the business.  Seriously, the number of buttons on a Japanese toilet make you feel as though you're sitting in the cockpit of a spaceship.  

From http://www.thefastertimes.com

Visitors to Japan constantly remark on the Washlet facilities.  "Ahhhh," said a friend who had visited Japan previously, "I've missed the heated toilet seats here. They are awesome."  A family member told me in hushed tones after a bathroom break, "I have to say, I really like the bidet function.  I mean, I used to think, 'Gross,' or 'Uncomfortable,' but really, it's quite nice and cleansing."  For those of you who are missing out with your cold, dirty, boring toilets, good news: TOTO is hoping to create a niche for itself in the international toilet market, bringing its civilized toilet experience to foreigners everywhere.  Allow me to throw my hat into this ring and say that I heartily support TOTO internationalization.  Our bums will thank us. 

KAGOSHIMA, KYUSHU

Thanks to its discount airline, Peach Air, Japan is making it a lot easier (and cheaper) to travel domestically.  For a paltry $80, I secured a round-trip ticket to Kyushu, the second most southern island in the archipelago.  And because it's Japan, even the cheapest airline (like Peach) is far and above the standards of most major US companies.  Clean!  Efficient!  Plenty of leg room!  Reasonably-sized overhead bins!  It made a United flight feel like a dingy tin can.

Still, there were some surprises.  For one thing, I was never asked to present my ID, not at check in or at security, or even at the gate.  I wasn't required to remove my shoes while going through security.  Liquids of any size were permitted.  Maybe this should have made me feel good.  Here I was, able to bring a six pack of beer on board if I so chose!  However, instead of feeling rebellious or free, I felt slightly anxious.  It's a sad fact that the post-9/11 travel restrictions have conditioned us so that just the thought of full-sized toiletries in one's carry-on is a source of panic.

I landed in Kagoshima, a city in the south of Kyushu.  Kagoshima is fairly unremarkable-looking. With the exception of Tokyo and Hiroshima, most Japanese cities look exactly the same: ugly concrete boxes spread across the landscape, displaying very little architectural or artistic character, much less taste.  A study of the city map left me wishing I knew more about Japanese history and the Meiji restoration, particularly some guy named Saigo, to whom statues were erected everywhere.  Other points on the map were labeled things like "Place of Saigo's birth," "Cave where Saigo hid," "Place of Saigo's death," and "Saigo ate lunch here."

In addition to its contributions to Japanese history, Kagoshima is famous for: radishes, onsen, an active volcano, and kurobuta (black pork).  It is also the place where St. Francis Xavier arrived in 1549 and began the spread of Christianity throughout Japan.  However, Kagoshima's greatest claim to fame may be that it is the sister city of Miami, FL.  Alas, there was no one selling cortados and Cuban sandwiches in the area, so clearly the two need to work on their cultural exchange.

I want to chronicle the many wonders of Kagoshima I experienced, and I want to start with ramen.  If you think ramen is dried noodles in a cup (as I once did) eaten by the poor or cooking-challenged, you are missing out on one of the great Japanese dishes.  Ramen is kind of the Japanese soup equivalent of pizza in America: relatively cheap, tasty, and unique to different regions.  Kagoshima ramen is the best I've tasted thus far.  Filled with tender, braised black pork, egg noodles, mushrooms, scallions and fried garlic, this is comfort food at its best.  I sought its comfort twice in the four days I was there, and was never disappointed.

American ramen: a travesty.  From: http://freshthemagazine.com

Kagoshima ramen

Kagoshima also offers a unique onsen experience: being buried in hot volcanic sand by the sea.  I made the 1.5 hr trek out to the infamous sand bath locale, Ibusuki.  $10 got me a thin cotton robe and a small towel, and I was ushered into the women's changing room (with heated wooden floors) to strip down, don my yukata, and head out to the sea.  As I exited for the sand baths, I caught sight of a sign that said, "Take care the burns."  The sand is supposed to be marvelous for many reasons, which I think are best summed up by the local brochure:

Nowadays, there are various stresses that break the balance of the human body and can lead to sickness.  According to recent research, it is found that stress weakens the immunity. Which means the human body sickness is caused from the sick heart.  This is why it is very important for people to allow their heart to rest.  The hot spring will comfort the heart, mind, and soul by all means of "Hot Spring."

Sand Bath- Effect

Sand bath is effective for relieving the following: NEURALGIA, RHEUMATISM, LUMBAGO, ARTHRITIS, FRACTURES, PARALYTIC SYMPTOMS, AFTER A STROKE, SEQUELA BY A CAR ACCIDENT, BURNING [burns? Why is hot sand good for burns?], WEAK CONSTITUTION CHILD, ATOPY, SKIN DISEASE, PILES [had to look this one up, and then was sorry that I did], ASTHMA, DIABETES, ALIMENTARY DISORDER, IRREGULAR MENSTRUATION, STERILITY, ANAEMIA, SENSITIVITY TO COLD, CONSTIPATION, OVER WEIGHT AND BEAUTY TREATMENT.

When I arrived at the bathing area, attendants in Wellington boots and head towels were preparing the sand by pouring boiling water (perhaps from a local hot spring?) over large quadrants, and then raking it.  There were about ten people (all middle-aged or elderly) already buried, their heads sticking out of the sand.  An attendant quickly dug me a pit, helped me tie a towel around my hair, and then buried me in the sand, telling me that I should get out in 10 minutes.  The sand was nice and warm, and I immediately began to sweat, savoring the thought that I was cleansing myself of toxins.  By minute 10, I still felt pretty good, so I resolved to stay in for another 5 minutes.  I made it, but just barely, eventually feeling a little overwhelmed by the combination of the heat and the heaviness of the sand.

From http://www.japanbiking.com

At minute 15, I quickly popped out and made my way to the regular onsen inside the complex, where I showered and dressed again.  My one regret from the day is that there is no photographic evidence of me buried in the sand.  Ah, the pitfalls of traveling alone.

Next up was Sakurajima, the volcanic island located just a short ferry ride from Kagoshima.  Sakurajima is unique in that it is populated with businesses, schools, post offices, and homes, all surrounding an active volcano, which frequently puffs smoke and blows ash into the air, which covers everything in a gritty film.  In fact, as we waited for the ferry to embark into the placid morning, the volcano soundlessly started spewing smoke in large columns, and kept doing this throughout the day.

Sakurajima

In addition to the views and hiking to be experienced around Sakurajima, the island's other attraction is its dinosaur park.  JK and I walked to the top of a steep hill to find a sprawling park filled with jungle gyms and a myriad of creatures: two brontosauruses, a T-rex, a stegosaurus, a diometrodon, a tiger, two lions, and a panda, which I thought was a particularly nice touch.  Alas, there was no triceratops  Joining us at the park was a group of primary school children, who were sitting docilely on little squares of plastic when we arrived, eating their lunches.  This gave us ample opportunity to play on the equipment while the children were occupied, giggling while we raced around.  However, once the kids started to run amok, I quickly became that person that parents fear, standing in the distance with my camera and take photograph after photograph of them going down slides, hanging off the jungle gyms, and generally being adorable in their little uniforms and hats.

I fulfill a life dream and ride a stegosaurus

JK and I proceeded on our hike of the island, walking through some of the trenches made by falling lava over the years, and generally hoping that the volcano didn't decide to suddenly erupt.  At one point, we stumbled across an area where a famous rock concert had taken place in the early 2000s, drawing thousands of people. There's a statue erected in commemoration.

Concert site.

After several hours of hiking the hot and dusty trails, we made our way to the local foot onsen overlooking the sea, where we submerged our tired feet in the hot mineral water.  I thought JK would cry from happiness.  After about an hour, I dragged a most unwilling JK out of the foot spa and back towards the ferry...and ramen.

THE AGONY AND THE ECSTASY

Buddy JK is visiting from America, and on Sunday morning, we pulled ourselves out of bed at the ungodly hour of 6:30 to catch a train, having gone to sleep only a few hours earlier thanks to travel delays following a trip to Kyushu (more on that next post).  With no time for coffee, much less breakfast, we rushed to the nearby town of Hasedera, which is fairly famous in the prefecture for its gorgeous temple and idyllic mountain setting.  From the station, we were whisked to the back of a local dango shop, where we dropped our bags, and moved up the mountain to a shrine for the opening ceremony of the Hasedera matsuri (festival).

At 9am, the first cup of sake was pressed into my hand for the opening ceremony toast.  Other JETs, thinking it was water (or happily cognizant that it was sake), gulped theirs down immediately, only to be informed that they were supposed to wait, and were then given refills.  Meanwhile, each person was issued his or her own happi coat, blue for the boys, and red for the girls.  The Year of the Dragon is quickly becoming the Year of Costumes.    

Happy in my happi coat

At about 9:30, the mikoshi was brought out.  Actually, two mikoshi.  First, the daddy mikoshi, which took almost 2 dozen men to move up the steep stairs to the shrine.  Inside the shrine were three young children, beating drums.  

The second mikoshi was far smaller, more Ark of the Covenant-sized, but it still weighed about 350-400 lbs, enough for 6-8 people to carry.  

The mikoshi

The opening ceremony involved lots of moving the mikoshi up and down stairs, bowing, dancing by the shrine maidens, and prayers by the priests.  During one prayer, a priest blessed us by waving a green branch over the crowds, and I had to fight the urge to cross myself, as one would in Catholic church.

Shrine maidens

Opening ceremony

After the sake toast, we made our way back down the stairs of the temple, and through the hilly, tortuous streets of Hasedera.  

Leaving the shrine

The rest of the day was a blur of chanting, shifts carrying the mikoshi, frequent stops for beer, soda, and cigarettes, and prayers at the smaller shrines throughout the town. Walking out of one shrine post-prayer, I spotted the three Shinto priests who had been tailing us on their scooters, standing in a circle in a small playground across the road, drinking beer. Later, I stumbled across them again in someone's home after lunch.  They decided to befriend me (their chattiness no doubt influenced by the small brewery on the table), which was charming. 

My new friends

Post lunch was when the wheels started falling off the wagon, so to speak. The participants had been broken up by height into teams.  The teams would rotate out in helping to carry the shrine for 10-20 minutes, which wasn't so bad until we hit this one area of town and all hell broke loose.  Part of the purpose of this festival is to gather donations from the locals by bringing the parade past the donors' homes.  When someone emerges with an envelope of cash, an organizer yells into a bullhorn "Itadakimasu!" and the team carrying the shrine then stops and hoists the shrine over their heads, chanting and pumping it into the air.  Unfortunately, we hit the jackpot in this one stretch, and moved only a matter of meters in between houses and businesses, stopping to carry out this ritual at least a dozen times.  More unfortunate still was the fact that this was during one of my group's rotations.  We were the short group, even by Japanese standards, and so hefting the shrine on our shoulders was one thing; raising the almost 400 lb monstrosity was another.  During our first ecstatic pump and chant, I got brained by one of the poles holding up the shrine.  Thankfully the guys were encouraged to assist us after that (the festival organizers clearly thought we weren't performing with enough panache), and we persevered, despite cries of, "Please! Stop giving us money!" emanating from the shrine bearers.

Don't be fooled. That's not a smile.  That's a grimace of pain.

Around 5pm, the festival drew to a close, the mikoshi was abandoned, and we were all allowed to limp off to the local onsen to recuperate before dinner. After a leisurely soak, we reconvened for the enkai (banquet party), which featured copious amounts of food, beer, sake, and the nightmare of all sober people when hanging out with drunks, karaoke.

Foreigners living in Japan quickly become aware that our worth is not necessarily based on our skills or our intelligence; rather, most of our value is derived from our ability to entertain the masses.  Japanese cultural events are a boon, not only because they teach foreigners about Japanese customs, but also because there is a certain glee inspired by seeing all of us dressed in traditional Japanese garb, or watching us react as we eat our first sea snail, or telling us to heft the mikoshi above our heads a few more times, just for giggles.  Sometimes being a spectacle is fun, other times, it's maddening.  Most of the time, we accept it as an inevitable trade-off in living in such a wonderful and fascinating country.  However, I think we outdid ourselves with our final karaoke number.  It was about 7:30pm, but it felt closer to 3am.  A discreet agreement was made following dinner that we should make our exit soon; however, no one wanted to offend our Japanese hosts.  Noticing the zeal with which each karaoke act was received, I suggested we sing a group number (and possibly dance, if we could manage to move our limbs), and have that be our grand farewell.  The final call was that we should sing the international classic, "YMCA."  We trooped up to the front, and quickly became a smash sensation.  People were gesticulating wildly, rhythmic claps shook the room, and some of the older men jumped on stage to dance with us and have their pictures taken with the Foreign Wonders.  Our duty done, we left the party to raucous applause, deep bows, and warm handshakes. 

Despite subsequent (facetious) comparisons to participating in the Hasedera matsuri and slavery, and the fact that I couldn't lift my arms above my head for two days and am still sore as I type this, it was, without a doubt, one of my top 2 days in Japan.  

OKAERI

Okaeri is a polite Japanese greeting that means "welcome home," but is not limited to your family or people you live with.  At the beginning of this summer, the obachans ("grandmothers") of the neighborhood started greeting me with "Okaeri" as I made my way home from school, instead of the habitual "Konnichiwa."  It only took a year, but I think this means I've been accepted into the tribe?  

48? WATERFALLS*

With the weather getting cooler, we are all eager to take advantage of being outside before winter hits and we go into hibernation.  To that end, Paul planned a day trip to the neighboring prefecture of Mie to visit Akameguchi, which is famous for its waterfalls.  We were lucky to venture out on a rainy and somewhat chilly day, which kept away most of the tourist hoards. Still, there were some intrepid hikers outfitted in their best mountaineering togs, looking as though they had just stepped out of a Patagonia catalog and were on their way to summit Mt. Fuji.  Keeping it simple in shorts and tennis shoes, we looked vastly less professional, particularly at a rest point, when the Japanese broke out their power bars and Nalgene bottles, while MR, one of the new Brits, bought a beer and a hot noodle stir fry to accompany his 6th cigarette of the day.  It was 10am.

The falls themselves were enchanting; so much so that I completely missed the fact that two 20-something Japanese photographers we encountered on the trail had brought with them a love doll (which is exactly what it sounds like), and were posing it in front of the falls.

*Apparently akameguchi can be translated as "48" or "many."  Turns out the advertising for 48 waterfalls was a bit misleading- the real number is closer to 35.

HIGANBANA MATSURI

In Japan, one of the harbingers of fall is the higanbana, or "red spider lily," which crops up everywhere like a fiery red weed.  This year, JETs were invited to participate in the higanbana festival, which consists of dressing up in costumes from the Nara period (circa 1300 years ago), and wandering through the hills of historic Asuka, which is considered the birthplace of Japanese culture.  The procession was more like a reenactment; there was a queen who sat atop a large shrine, which was then rolled along the trail.  The rest of us, Japanese and foreigners, made up the queen's entourage, shouting "Onaigi!" in unison, which I believe is something akin to "All hail!"  As foreigners, of course, we were relegated to wearing servants' clothes, which were a coarse cotton, compared to the shiny silks of the Japanese courtiers.  

The procession wending its way through the hills.  The higanbana are in the back.

The costume: a long-sleeved cotton under robe, topped by a heavier, long cotton robe and a long cotton skirt that made us all look like maypoles. 

Our homely garb did not discourage people- hundreds of people- from taking photos of us at every possible moment, including the two times we stopped for a brief break over the course of the 8 hour day.  Our fans were particularly amused to watch all of us guzzle cold tea and air ourselves out, hiking up our skirts in a distinctly unlady-like fashion (we all wore pants or shorts underneath).  Sometimes you just can't fight being foreign. 

The Queen's Court

OPENING PANDORA'S BOX: A SPEECH CONTEST

"Have you ever tried to commit suicide?  I have." 

This was the opening line two years ago of one of my students who was competing in a local speech contest, as reported to me by a fellow ALT who was there.  I'm confident that this was an accurate quote, and doubt that the ALT was exaggerating.  Having attended the speech contest this past summer, I've witnessed firsthand the awkwardness of this event.  Speakers open their mouths, and out comes a Pandora's box of misfortunes: deaths, illnesses, handicaps, injustices.  The formula is always the same: something negative happened, and they overcame it.  Sometimes the challenges are framed in unexpected ways.  One girl with dead eyes spoke in a grim monotone and extolled the virtues of the color pink and how much she loves it, and then went on, "And when my baby twin sisters died suddenly, I loved pink even more.  It made me happier."  You could have heard a pin drop.

There's a toneless recitation, however, that robs the events of any meaning, significance or sentiment.  It may be my cynical Grinch heart at work, but it makes me uncomfortable that these otherwise cheery kids trot out stories of the tragedies of their lives in order to curry favor and sympathy from the judges.  My students never seem to pick anything sensational.  The student I'm coaching this year has chosen child abuse as her topic, but thankfully is not approaching the subject with any personal anecdotes, but rather, a more philosophical discussion of abuse.  I feel a slight pang, because I know that no matter how much we practice, there will be a student from another high school who has a parent who went to Bible college in the United States, or studied abroad in Australia for a year, and their accents and inflection will be near perfect, regardless of the content of their speeches. 

The speech contest is in a week, and God knows what awaits us.  Especially since DL and I have been asked to emcee the event.  Pray for us. 

KOYASAN

As part of my attempt to make this the year of doing ALL THE THINGS, I have been trying to steadily knock out some of the entries on my Japanese bucket list.  Recently I escaped to Koyasan, a temple complex in the mountains of Wakayama prefecture, and one of the holiest sites in Japan.  The journey to Koyasan is quite a pilgrimage in and of itself; 3 hours of various train lines, a cable car, and a bus.  The town is unremarkable; it consists mostly of a mainstreet of souvenir shops where you can buy religious talismans, and offerings of beer and sake.  The real draws are the temples nestled into the sides of the mountain, as well as the extensive Buddhist graveyard. 

Cemetery at Koyasan

Hands down, the best part of the getaway was staying overnight in one of the temples.  The monks rent traditional Japanese rooms to travelers for a night or more, allowing guests to explore the old buildings and their grounds.  You're encouraged to wear a yukata (a long, lightweight cotton robe) around the temple during your stay.  On my way to the communal Japanese-style bathrooms at 9pm, my yukata tied around me and grasping my toiletries and a change of clothes, I ran into a young monk in the darkened halls.  He very generously offered to show me and my friends around some of the more beautiful rooms of the temple, including a tatami room with giant floor-to-ceiling screens.  The entire room glowed, as the screens looked to have been made of gold leaf.  

A delicious vegetarian dinner and breakfast were included, with lots of colorful small dishes: soups, fruit, tofu, pickles, and a variety of vegetables.  Each morning, the guests gather at 6am for morning prayer, listening to the monks chant and make offerings of incense.  A glorious way to escape from the hurly burly for a weekend.

Our room

Women's communal bath.  You undress and clean yourself at the showers before soaking in the large tub.  Heavenly.

BACK TO SCHOOL

For me, school life is characterized by questionable comments from my students and entertaining misunderstandings.  Our first week of classes was no exception. 

One student approached me in the staff room and said, "Eri-sensei, I'm friends with you on Facebook.  I saw the photos of the baby you posted.  Is that your baby?"  Momentarily flummoxed, I had to take a minute to recover before saying, "Um, no.  That's actually my nephew."  She was embarrassed; so was I, slightly.  All I could think was, "My students think I'm old enough to have a baby.  I am old." Only later did it occur to me to ask her if she thought I had been pregnant for the past 9 months and then popped out a kid, returning to work the next day.  I guess eating all this tempura has caused me to put on some weight?

Third years were expected to write a short composition in class about their summer vacations.  Assignments like these require close supervision, as it is a struggle to get the students to write 3-5 sentences in English, much less a couple of paragraphs.  The JTE and I circled the room, checking students' work, until the JTE motioned me over.  "She [the student] says that she went on SM Tour this summer," said the JTE to me, wide-eyed.  "Can you believe it?"  I shook my head.  "No, what is SM Tour?" I asked.  "You know!" she said.  No, I really didn't know.  We went back and forth like this, and for a moment I wondered if the teacher was talking about S&M, which seemed to be the only logical answer, given her shock.  However, I quickly put this thought out of my mind, given that 1) the JTE in question is a woman several years younger than I am and quite the innocent, and 2) we were talking about the summer plans of our 17 year-old student.  I turned to the student and asked, "What is SM Tour?"  "It is concert by Korean idol," she responded.  I looked over at the JTE, whose eyes had gotten wide.  "Ooooohhh," she said, exhaling with relief.  "I thought it was SM. You know, like sadism, um, maso..."  I chuckled uneasily and didn't pursue the topic.  But the exchange has definitely made me reconsider my JTE and her straightlaced facade.