I slept until 2 this afternoon. I was up late talking with Mum and I thought I would just not set my alarm to allow myself to get the rest I need. It meant that I got up, much to my surprise, at 2 in the afternoon and that left me 2 hours to clean up, send some stuff to download and get dressed to leave by 4. I met up with a friend at Mister Donut in Katsu. There was a Samba Festival there. Or supposedly. There weren't any actual samba dancers, but we did find Coronas and then we saw some Flamenco dancers. It was interesting. It's little old Japanese ladies dressed up in Flamenco. Actually there was one or two younger ones and one middle aged lady who could ACTUALLY move their hips...it was a miracle. I'm quite convinced that the Japanese are unable to move their hips and do another action, or think, or talk at the same time.
We then left the festivities, as half-ass as they were, to head up two stations to Yukari, which is the place where I lived during that first week here. Many people live there their first week. I'm rather fond of the area. Anyway, it has this HUGE shopping complex that's like 7 floors. One whole floor is the Entertainment floor with a bunch of theatres and some game centre. We grabbed some popcorn and headed in for Star Wars. I felt a great sense of closure upon leaving the theatre. I felt like an area had passed, my childhood has now ended and I must continue on through life without any more new adventures to share in the world of the Skywalkers. It certainly wasn't as awful as I was originally anticipating. It was rather entertaining and there were only a very few moments where I had to roll my eyes. I do have to give props to the new CGI developments. I hate CGI, when I can notice it. I particularly hate it when it has to do with real characters. I liked Yoda as a muppet. Maybe it's just me being sentimental but it just fits. The Phantom Menace (I) and the Clones (II) had Yoda as complete CGI and you could just feel that the other characters and he didn't interact on the same plane. They most definitely existed on two different planes of existence, one being real, the other CGI. Sith (III) did come across as much more seamless between the two planes. I could go on for hours about discrepancies and inconsistent writing, but I won't. I will conclude by saying, it was a very enjoyable evening with good company and the movie was highly entertaining.
Sunday, August 28, 2005
Saturday, August 27, 2005
August 27, 2005
A very sad day at work today. I had my last class with my most favourite class today. Kenichi is my most favourite student that I have and I won't have him any more. He gave me cookies and a card and said he would miss me. His mum said they tried out the Tuesday class but that Kenichi said he didn't know the answers with that teacher but that he knows the answers when it's me. I love him. He even gave cookies to my co-worker and said he would miss him. It was just terribly cool.
After teaching I hung around and finished up some CPR's and planning for next week. I was talking to the receptionist and asked if she had plans for tonight. She giggled, which I took to mean that she had a hot date. She did. The same guy she went out with the night of the big earthquake in July. I told her I haven't been on a date since like 2001, like four years. She was very surprised and said that I was very cute so why not. Well, boys are afraid of me because I'm independent. She added that I was strange. "How so? How am I strange? I'm strange?" "You have unusual interest." "What? What interest, hobby is strange?" "You collect bugs." "I don't collect bugs!" "Joking, joking, you collect bugs. Strange girl." "You're strange, I don't collect bugs" "And your hobby is S&M." At which point I totally burst out laughing. The hell? My hobby is S&M. So I thought, two can play at this game. "Sshhhh, Hiro. Who told you that? It's supposed to be a secret" and I walked away. "Really! In fact? In fact your hobby is S&M?" "No, I'm joking. But shhhh, it's a secret" "Eh? What? You're joking? But in fact, S&M?" It was fun to toy with her. I told her she had to ask my co-worker next week if he knew my hobby was S&M. He'll laugh. I think it was my weirdest conversation here in Japan. Yesterday, in class, I was telling my adult ladies about playing in the rain and mud games (like mud rugby and frisbee) we used to play when the fields were flooded at Stelly's and Mt Doug. Yumi totally made my day with, "Are you special? Are there other people like you? You are very strange." I laughed. Not sure how to answer that one.
After work I headed home and found another teacher on the corner at Kita. We discussed plans for seeing Star Wars this weekend and then more teachers showed up and they invited me along to 13 Palms where yet another teacher was waiting. We had some really good food and a couple of beers and Taeko (my favourite receptionist who feeds me) even showed up later and stayed for a bit. It was good to sit and chat and talk school politics and life and have a couple good jokes. I think I need to do that like once a month. I'm sure that once it starts to get cooler out people will start to go out more. Nobody has really been hanging out unless they live close by for much of July and August.
I talked to Mum and Dad (mostly Mum) from like 1 to 4 this morning. It was really good to get stuff off my chest and let them in on the things that I've been experiencing and feeling for the past 2 months. I really just needed to be heard. Especially after last Sunday night when I sobbed myself to sleep by 4 in the morning.
After teaching I hung around and finished up some CPR's and planning for next week. I was talking to the receptionist and asked if she had plans for tonight. She giggled, which I took to mean that she had a hot date. She did. The same guy she went out with the night of the big earthquake in July. I told her I haven't been on a date since like 2001, like four years. She was very surprised and said that I was very cute so why not. Well, boys are afraid of me because I'm independent. She added that I was strange. "How so? How am I strange? I'm strange?" "You have unusual interest." "What? What interest, hobby is strange?" "You collect bugs." "I don't collect bugs!" "Joking, joking, you collect bugs. Strange girl." "You're strange, I don't collect bugs" "And your hobby is S&M." At which point I totally burst out laughing. The hell? My hobby is S&M. So I thought, two can play at this game. "Sshhhh, Hiro. Who told you that? It's supposed to be a secret" and I walked away. "Really! In fact? In fact your hobby is S&M?" "No, I'm joking. But shhhh, it's a secret" "Eh? What? You're joking? But in fact, S&M?" It was fun to toy with her. I told her she had to ask my co-worker next week if he knew my hobby was S&M. He'll laugh. I think it was my weirdest conversation here in Japan. Yesterday, in class, I was telling my adult ladies about playing in the rain and mud games (like mud rugby and frisbee) we used to play when the fields were flooded at Stelly's and Mt Doug. Yumi totally made my day with, "Are you special? Are there other people like you? You are very strange." I laughed. Not sure how to answer that one.
After work I headed home and found another teacher on the corner at Kita. We discussed plans for seeing Star Wars this weekend and then more teachers showed up and they invited me along to 13 Palms where yet another teacher was waiting. We had some really good food and a couple of beers and Taeko (my favourite receptionist who feeds me) even showed up later and stayed for a bit. It was good to sit and chat and talk school politics and life and have a couple good jokes. I think I need to do that like once a month. I'm sure that once it starts to get cooler out people will start to go out more. Nobody has really been hanging out unless they live close by for much of July and August.
I talked to Mum and Dad (mostly Mum) from like 1 to 4 this morning. It was really good to get stuff off my chest and let them in on the things that I've been experiencing and feeling for the past 2 months. I really just needed to be heard. Especially after last Sunday night when I sobbed myself to sleep by 4 in the morning.
Thursday, August 25, 2005
August 25, 2005
All of Tokyo battened down the hatches today. It has been torrential since early this morning and by 3 am (officially Friday) the full force of the 11th typhoon to hit Japan will be upon the Kanto region. It's amazing. The wind and the rain is practically deafening at times on the shutters. Winds are at over 100 km an hour. I don't want to go to bed. I'm tired, but I don't want to miss listening to a moment of it.
Most people that know me know that I like the rain. I few people who know me really well, know that I REALLY like the rain. I had no idea how much of a psychological impact rain has on me until today. The sun sucks my will to live. And I don’t mean the sun in general, but the heat, then constant droning heat takes all living impulses out of my body. Tonight I got a quick break between classes and ventured out in the pre-typhoon weather to grab some take-out sushi. It was exhilarating. I was positively giddy by the time I got back to the school, not to mention thoroughly wet. I wasn't impatient once today while teaching. That's a miracle, especially considering the 5 lumps of flesh I have to teach on this day. I was excited to be there, I was more interactive, I was really enjoying my day. I realized it in the middle of my class. I was comfortable. I didn't want to gauge my eyes out and crawl out of my own skin and it made such a difference to my interaction with people.
I love rain. I love the coolness it brings to the air. I love the feel of it on my skin. I love the strength in the wind. I feel like a normal person. I feel tonight the way I felt sitting on the beach in Zushi last week, connected. I respond to water. This morning as I was lying in bed, listening to the rain, wishing I could will time to stop at my every whim, I was looking at my pictures on my wall. There's like 70 of them. Of those 70 or so, there's 7 that are not near the water (that's 2 of Mantua in Italy, 2 of London, 1 of Paris, 1 of Chitchen Itza in Mexico and 1 in Strasbourg France, and for the record, all but Chitchen are within a few minutes walk to rivers), there are about 7 that are within a 10 minute drive of the ocean (all on the Island), and all the rest are within about 500 feet of a body of water (lake or, mostly, ocean). It made me realize just how important being around water is to me. Tonight I rode my bike home without an umbrella and it was positively glorious.
Most people that know me know that I like the rain. I few people who know me really well, know that I REALLY like the rain. I had no idea how much of a psychological impact rain has on me until today. The sun sucks my will to live. And I don’t mean the sun in general, but the heat, then constant droning heat takes all living impulses out of my body. Tonight I got a quick break between classes and ventured out in the pre-typhoon weather to grab some take-out sushi. It was exhilarating. I was positively giddy by the time I got back to the school, not to mention thoroughly wet. I wasn't impatient once today while teaching. That's a miracle, especially considering the 5 lumps of flesh I have to teach on this day. I was excited to be there, I was more interactive, I was really enjoying my day. I realized it in the middle of my class. I was comfortable. I didn't want to gauge my eyes out and crawl out of my own skin and it made such a difference to my interaction with people.
I love rain. I love the coolness it brings to the air. I love the feel of it on my skin. I love the strength in the wind. I feel like a normal person. I feel tonight the way I felt sitting on the beach in Zushi last week, connected. I respond to water. This morning as I was lying in bed, listening to the rain, wishing I could will time to stop at my every whim, I was looking at my pictures on my wall. There's like 70 of them. Of those 70 or so, there's 7 that are not near the water (that's 2 of Mantua in Italy, 2 of London, 1 of Paris, 1 of Chitchen Itza in Mexico and 1 in Strasbourg France, and for the record, all but Chitchen are within a few minutes walk to rivers), there are about 7 that are within a 10 minute drive of the ocean (all on the Island), and all the rest are within about 500 feet of a body of water (lake or, mostly, ocean). It made me realize just how important being around water is to me. Tonight I rode my bike home without an umbrella and it was positively glorious.
Friday, August 19, 2005
August 19, 2005
Not a happy camper. I was excited to sit back and relax tonight, watch a movie and maybe even go to bed early. So I did the sit back, I did the relax, I turned on the movie. About an hour later I noticed something move out of the corner of my eye. Something large and black on my open closet door. Oh dear Lord, it is not what I think it is. I jump up. It jumps. It can see me! Yes, it's a gokiburi. A cockroach. In my house. In MY space, next to my things. How long has it been in here? How did it get in here? Oh dear Lord, help me, how am I going to get it out of here??? Needless to say I freaked out. Like bad. I consider myself a relatively stable person. Sure I get a little excited sometimes, but generally speaking I can hold my own. Um yeah. About that. Not so much evidently when it comes to dealing with cockroaches. So I'm thinking to myself how am I going to catch it or kill it? Mostly I'm just jumping around my flat making lots of noise and it goes into my storage closet. Thank you Lord it wasn't in my bedroom and in my clothes closet. I think I would be walking around naked after that as I would have burned everything I owned. It's in my closet, it's IN my closet. What am I going to do, how on earth am I supposed to get this thing out of my place? As I'm walking around it is freaking out as well and moving all over the place based on what I am doing. Oh Lord, it's aware of me, it knows I exist, it can see me. THIS IS NOT OKAY IN MY WORLD!!!! I grab a container, I'll catch it. I'll catch it like a spider. I've done that a million times. I can't even get near it it's so fast. It's so grooooossss. I can't. I can't do this. Lord, you've got to help me cause I can't do this. I'll call Michelle, she'll know what to do. I just need a pep-talk. I need to know that I CAN do this, I'm just not sure what to do yet. No answer. I'll put my shoes on. That will help. It can't run over my feet that way. As I pick up my shoes I think of my sink cupboard. I LOVE STEPHANIE. When she left the country she said she left roach spray under the sink!! I have roach spray. I root around in the cupboard and find it. How do I use this stuff? How close to I have to get? I hate this. I hate this. (You do realize that I'm crying hysterically now, right? I mean, you can read between the lines and get that, right?) Okay, okay. I'll go spray the thing till it dies a horrible, chemically induced death. As I'm spraying the entire closet, it's running all over the place while trying not to leave the "protection" it thinks it has found in the form of my vacuum cleaner and ironing board. I completely gassed the whole area. I'm sure it wasn't good for me but quite frankly I don't care. I can't tell if it's dead or not. There's something black under the ironing board that isn't moving but I can't tell if it's just a mark in the wood or it's IT. I spray under the ironing board again. Just in case. I finally decide that it must be it, not like I'm going to get down and look closely at it so I'm not positive. I move my vacuum and it, thankfully starts to pull the ironing board out with it. Everything is covered in roach bomb residue. Totally gross. To think that I'm touching a substance that could possibly kill one of those things just grosses me out. It's there, on the floor of my closet. I don't want to go near it or even look at it. I grab the container I was going to use to catch it and put it over it. Without actually looking at it. It's clear plastic. I can still see the thing. I don't want to look at it. It can't stay in my space. It must leave. How on earth am I going to get this thing out of here. I need a pep-talk. I can do this. I call Michelle again. This time she answers but she's at a friend's place so she can't talk. She has time enough for "Michelle. You're fine. You can do this. I need you to take a deep breath. Michelle. Breath, honey. I don't think you're breathing. Okay, now count to ten. You can do this. I'll call you back in a little bit. Breath." I try to sit back down. I can see it. Lying there under the clear plastic, dead. It's still in my space. It needs to leave. I go to the kitchen. I don't have any non-clear hard plastic containers. I have grocery bags but that will never do. Ah, but I can put one over the container and then I can't see it. Okay. So now I can't see it. I sit back down. The sweat is positively dripping off of me. I sit back down to my comp. Mum is on Skype. "MUM! I HAD A ROACH IN MY HOUSE!!!" After talking to mum for like over an hour and not being able to see it I had calmed down enough it think a little clearer. I still couldn't think of anyway to get it out of the house. I need some thin cardboard. I don't have any. I only have full cereal boxes. Bah, cereal be damned. Dump the cereal, cut up the box. Okay. I can do this. I open the front door. I slide the cardboard under the container, freaking out the whole time, I hold onto the top, I scoot out the front door and toss the whole lot off the balcony and into the neighbouring parking lot. Ew, ew, ew. I'm free. It's gone. Okay. So it's like after midnight and I'm going to clean this place. I go on a cleaning spree unlike you've seen before. I toss the garbage out on the balcony. I wipe everything down, even the floors. I didn't think this place was dirty before. I managed to finish the movie, clean my place, move my futon onto my kitchen table and I was a sleep, on my kitchen table, by 3:30 in the morning.
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
August 16, 2005
The themes for today are: Yoko wa ichi ban ni desu yo ('Yoko is totally the best') AND Dirty Peruvians on The Beach.
I honestly didn't really want to leave my flat. I had holed up here on Thursday night and hadn't really moved since then, other than one ill chosen trip to the grocery store and three walks around the block at a time well past dark when I didn't have to put any real clothes on and it was cooler. But I decided that it might be time to ease my way back into civilization from the monastic life of my flat that I had created for myself seeing that I was going to have to return to work on Wednesday. And by monastic I mean lots of tofu and tonnes of illegal downloading. I have a thing for Jon Stewart. I even watched Oprah because he was on her show for like 20 minutes. Yoko had called me on Saturday, I think it was, saying that she had just quit her nasty Chinese restaurant job and had a few days off until she had to work on Thursday and was wondering if I would like to go do something. There was one suggestion that I can't remember but didn't sound too keen on. Then there was the suggestion of Yokosuka (yo-KO-ska) which she described as an "American town" but that it was near the ocean. That really was the clincher word – OCEAN. That's all I needed, as much as I was deterred by the notion of an "American town" in Japan, that beautiful, vast, most majestic word, OCEAN, trumps the scary description. So we made a date to meet at Nishi-Funabashi on Platform 12 at 10 AM on Tuesday, that's today. Good plan.
We met on schedule, went to the kiosk and got new day passes for the JR Train (longer distances than the local lines) and caught one train out. Then we had to transfer. Then we were on a slow train. Then we got to Kamakura (the place with the giant Buddha – Daibutsu) and the train stopped. Evidently there had been a 7.2 earthquake while we were on the train and the lines were all shut down now for who knows how many hours. It was more like a 6 where we were. Last time they didn't get going for like 4 hours. I was trying not to be too much of a downer and to roll with the circumstances, but I was terribly upset by the whole thing because I didn't even get to feel the earthquake! Soooo not fair! And it was supposedly a big one. I'm pouting. My bottom lip has completely overwhelmed my upper lip and my eyes are as big as Bambi's (not that I want any connection to a Disney creation...anti-thesis of my being) and they are starting to well up. It's not fair! (Oh, Lisa, when will you ever learn to STOP LIVING IN MY BRAIN!!!!!?) At least we got stuck at Kamakura which is a totally cool place, despite being the place where I was called "Princess" last time. I still can't believe I allowed that boy to continue life without the assistance of a breathing tube. I'm far too kind.
So we set out from the station, hoping that our day passes would work the way they were supposed to with unlimited stops between the two points that we stated as the furthest we would go. The guy who sold us the tickets was a little rude and we weren't sure if he was actually listening to Yoko. We headed down the more famous, touristy street near the station to go take a look at some fun little shops. The area is just fun and although I've been there two other times, we still managed to go into completely new shops for us that we'd never noticed before. Then we found a really nice Chinese restaurant that we were worried would cost a small fortune but it turned out to be really reasonable for quite a bit of food, by Asian standards anyway. I had a new musak experience (if you haven't been following along, there have be several previous experiences). We got to listen to Hawaiian music in a Chinese restaurant in Japan. That was a good time. With our bellies full and my on-hand supply of cash dwindling we decided to make our way back to the station to see if we could catch something...preferable a train and not hepatitis. Our passes worked again, Yeah, and we set down on the platform to wait. A schedule would have been nice, but the postings were still stuck from the earthquake so at ten to two we were evidently waiting for the 11:50 train for Tokyo. Um, yeah, not so much. So we waited. And waited. And waited in silence as we had both hit our food comas (that was one of the new vocabulary words of the day for Yoko, 'food coma'). Then we fell asleep. Then we woke up. Then we waited some more. Finally at just after three (for those not keeping track or mathematically challenged, we had arrived around 3 hours previous) we were able to catch a train heading south. It went one stop. Then we waited some more. To make a long afternoon a little shorter, we eventually arrived at Yokosuka which turned out to be, as I had suspected on Monday night after talking with Yoko about a little more, the Navy docks where one of the main US bases in the area is located. It was like being home in Esquimalt, only there were way more little Japanese people around. We walked through a very western civilization looking garden, a rather delightful English rose garden really. We enjoyed the view of the water and the taste of salt then we decided it was time to hit the "American town" and go look for dirty sailors with bad tattoos. On our way out of the garden I had to take a moment and be One with the grass. I fondled it, and spoke to it softly and gently, we had a moment. It brought Yoko much delight to watch.
We headed off to find a street that is like the US "strip" of the town. It wasn't far from the park and it was easy to spot at one block back from the main drag. It's a narrow street lined with really random little shops full of camo gear (often far to "trendy" for my taste, camo doesn't normally come in size 0 that you have to pour yourself into) and really sketchy looking bars. A lot of it was closed up for day time, but the bit that we did see was rather, interesting. I'm all for random, sketchy parts of town, but this was really on the border for me. I was glad that it was daytime, even at that there was one guy who made me edgy by totally staring me down. Yes, I think I have actually found a place in the world that I will not return to. I bet it gets crazy at nights, it was cool to walk down it during the day and imagine, just imagine.
We arrived back at the station only to discover that the trains weren't running in the direction we wanted them to, which was more south, as there had been an "accident". So there was a 6.0 earthquake that shut the lines down for several hours in the early afternoon, at which point some poor deluded person decided that it would be the most opportune time to throw (or attempt to throw) themselves at an object moving at a rather quick velocity. That's usually what an "Accident" means. Either that or some yahoo tried to run the train crossing in a car and got stuck on the track or something. So it meant that we could only go north. We decided that we would stop at Zushi, the station where we were shortly stuck after being in Kamakura for all that time, and see if we could find more ocean. In Yoko's guide book it looked like there might even be some beach. So we set off again and arrived at the Zushi platform, which was probably about as far the train was going at that time until more tracks were cleared after the "Accident".
We were really sure of where we were going but we decided to head out on the road and head West. We followed a bunch of small streets and were making some progress when I mentioned that we should probably turn left as there was a hill in front of us and a hill behind us and it seemed to make sense that access to the ocean would be best between those two hills, as opposed to at the bottom of the hill where it would be rocky. So we ventured into the wilderness that is small, compact, Japanese suburbia of really nice beach houses. The roads are really narrow and totally NOT straight. We finally came to an underpass that seemed to end in sand! Ata, we found it. We came out on the other side to the most beautiful view of soft, dark, sandy beach and a calm, large bay. It was beautiful. We were terribly excited. Then we noticed along the edges of the beach were all these shanty type bars and cafes with music tumbling out of them and tiki torches lighting the way. I'm sorry. Where am I? I felt like I was in a mix of Jamaica, Mexico and Southern France. It was so odd and completely endearing. As we walked I felt more and more like myself again.
We walked down the beach a little way, stuck our feet in the sand, took a few shots and then decided that we had been on our feet far too long and took up residence on a little patch of sand in front of a Mexican cantina type place. Music was coming from all directions, the water was calm and the sun was starting to set. That was it. I decided that we were never leaving that spot ever again, unless it rained and then Yoko would leave, or I had to pee. Those two events were about the only things that would move us. The sky looked like it was going to open up and dump. I was excited. Yoko was scared. From there, we seriously just didn't move. Yoko had made some food for us to snack on and we decided that it would be the best dinner available. Otherwise we would have had to leave our new home. We sat there for a really long time. Like a really long time. We people watched, we chatted a little, but mostly we just sat there in silence, enjoying the night. And then the inevitable happened. I had to pee. We broke camp and started back down the beach. There were two old guys that we had been watching for some time trying, pathetically and with no luck, to pick up skinny little Japanese chicas (as if there are any other kind) and as we passed them I said "Hola, que tal?" and that started up a quick convo in Spanish and Japanese of where the toilets were located, that being much closer than what we had thought. Having taken care of business, we returned to our beloved home to enjoy the night and the silence. But it was not to be. I had broken the golden rule of avoiding dirty men, don't talk to them first. Oops. Oh well. So the convo started up again, drinks (as pathetic as they were...Chu-hi of all things, think really wussy cider) were offered and denied but Ricardo was here to stay. We joined camps and met his friend Christian. They're originally from Peru. Christian came to Japan intending to stay for 2 years, he's been here 12. I never did hear Ricardo's story. The multi-lingual conversation was terribly interesting and often rather confusing. They would talk to me in Spanish, to Yoko in Japanese and Yoko and I would talk to each other in English, and as group conversations go, there was a mix of everything in between. "Doko, ah. De donde tu vienes? Brazil?" "Ah, no, janai (Japanese for 'no it's wrong') Canada" "Canadiense? No. Verdad? (Spanish 'Really')" "Hai, no wait, Si!" I kept answering them in Japanese and every now and again in the middle of the sentence to make sure I was following in Spanish Christian would ask "Wakaru" (Japanese 'Do you understand?') with Spanish on either side of it. A couple times it happened that I didn't know what he was talking about so he would ask Yoko in Japanese and she would tell me what it meant in English. Or they were telling her something and between their odd accents (most Japanese are no good at understanding their own language with foreign accents) and the slurred speech (they had quite evidently had a few drinks before meeting us) she didn't understand what they were saying so they would explain in Spanish to me and I would tell her in English. Good times. And then we noticed that the music had died from the local establishments, and so the dirty old Peruvians (my new name for them) had to make up for it by putting on some music and then wanted to teach us to merengue. I already knew, which delighted them both to know end and they kept saying that they didn't believe that I was from Canada. Yoko had never danced like that before and was having some difficulty figuring out how to move her hips and feet and walk at the same time. It was fabulous. So we danced we with, well it really was only one dirty Peruvian as Christian was older and more gentlemanly, and I think he figured out pretty quick that I could have dropped him in an instant (I was taller than both of them...and sober...and feisty!), so we danced with one dirty Peruvian and one not so dirty old Peruvian on the beach in Mexico...I mean Jamaica...I mean Brazil...I mean Japan???
It was really dark, Ricardo's hands were starting to wander more (not on me, he didn't try twice!!) and I then realized that it was 9 and we still had quite a trek to get home. So we left our new friends on the beach and tried to make our way back to the station through all those little streets. We had a really good laugh on the train, mostly because by now I looked like my usual dirty hippie self and I was leaving a trail of sand everywhere I went, much to my delight. We did some "Vocabulary of the Day" review in English and Spanish (and like 2 words in Japanese that I've now already forgotten, I'm not meant to speak this language, much like German) and then had to part ways. We will return to Zushi. Soon.
So that was my most fabulous day. I have had a couple of really good days here, but I think this day takes the cake, or at least has to share most of the cake with a couple of other days, like the child you secretly harbour more love for but who still has to share the presents with its just slightly above average siblings just so they continue life without realizing that they are only just slightly above average and aren't as loved quite as much as the other one. I'm feeling more like myself again, as I'm sure is apparent in my writing, and I'm feeling like I'm ready for...An Adventure!!! (Yes, the super hero music has returned in the background and may just be a bit louder than before as it is trying to make up for lost time). Yoko is my hero for getting me out of the house, as much as I like my flat, it was time to have a shower and put some real and some clean clothes on.
I would first and foremost like to thank God. My parents for always supporting me. I want to thank Christian and Ricardo for reminding me to Merengue and all will be better. I want to say a special thank you to the rude guy at the ticket booth for making our cheap travel possible. To everyone at JR for working hard to make this trip a go. Oh, and how can I forget Mother Earth for working her brilliant timing to put us where we needed to be. And, and, oh, don't you start playing that music on me, I'll just keep talking over it. And to my husband who always believed in me, and to Danny in editing who does wonders with an airbrush. And, and. Oh, and to my fans, I love you, this ones for you. Thank you all.
Did I mention I'm feeling better?
I honestly didn't really want to leave my flat. I had holed up here on Thursday night and hadn't really moved since then, other than one ill chosen trip to the grocery store and three walks around the block at a time well past dark when I didn't have to put any real clothes on and it was cooler. But I decided that it might be time to ease my way back into civilization from the monastic life of my flat that I had created for myself seeing that I was going to have to return to work on Wednesday. And by monastic I mean lots of tofu and tonnes of illegal downloading. I have a thing for Jon Stewart. I even watched Oprah because he was on her show for like 20 minutes. Yoko had called me on Saturday, I think it was, saying that she had just quit her nasty Chinese restaurant job and had a few days off until she had to work on Thursday and was wondering if I would like to go do something. There was one suggestion that I can't remember but didn't sound too keen on. Then there was the suggestion of Yokosuka (yo-KO-ska) which she described as an "American town" but that it was near the ocean. That really was the clincher word – OCEAN. That's all I needed, as much as I was deterred by the notion of an "American town" in Japan, that beautiful, vast, most majestic word, OCEAN, trumps the scary description. So we made a date to meet at Nishi-Funabashi on Platform 12 at 10 AM on Tuesday, that's today. Good plan.
We met on schedule, went to the kiosk and got new day passes for the JR Train (longer distances than the local lines) and caught one train out. Then we had to transfer. Then we were on a slow train. Then we got to Kamakura (the place with the giant Buddha – Daibutsu) and the train stopped. Evidently there had been a 7.2 earthquake while we were on the train and the lines were all shut down now for who knows how many hours. It was more like a 6 where we were. Last time they didn't get going for like 4 hours. I was trying not to be too much of a downer and to roll with the circumstances, but I was terribly upset by the whole thing because I didn't even get to feel the earthquake! Soooo not fair! And it was supposedly a big one. I'm pouting. My bottom lip has completely overwhelmed my upper lip and my eyes are as big as Bambi's (not that I want any connection to a Disney creation...anti-thesis of my being) and they are starting to well up. It's not fair! (Oh, Lisa, when will you ever learn to STOP LIVING IN MY BRAIN!!!!!?) At least we got stuck at Kamakura which is a totally cool place, despite being the place where I was called "Princess" last time. I still can't believe I allowed that boy to continue life without the assistance of a breathing tube. I'm far too kind.
So we set out from the station, hoping that our day passes would work the way they were supposed to with unlimited stops between the two points that we stated as the furthest we would go. The guy who sold us the tickets was a little rude and we weren't sure if he was actually listening to Yoko. We headed down the more famous, touristy street near the station to go take a look at some fun little shops. The area is just fun and although I've been there two other times, we still managed to go into completely new shops for us that we'd never noticed before. Then we found a really nice Chinese restaurant that we were worried would cost a small fortune but it turned out to be really reasonable for quite a bit of food, by Asian standards anyway. I had a new musak experience (if you haven't been following along, there have be several previous experiences). We got to listen to Hawaiian music in a Chinese restaurant in Japan. That was a good time. With our bellies full and my on-hand supply of cash dwindling we decided to make our way back to the station to see if we could catch something...preferable a train and not hepatitis. Our passes worked again, Yeah, and we set down on the platform to wait. A schedule would have been nice, but the postings were still stuck from the earthquake so at ten to two we were evidently waiting for the 11:50 train for Tokyo. Um, yeah, not so much. So we waited. And waited. And waited in silence as we had both hit our food comas (that was one of the new vocabulary words of the day for Yoko, 'food coma'). Then we fell asleep. Then we woke up. Then we waited some more. Finally at just after three (for those not keeping track or mathematically challenged, we had arrived around 3 hours previous) we were able to catch a train heading south. It went one stop. Then we waited some more. To make a long afternoon a little shorter, we eventually arrived at Yokosuka which turned out to be, as I had suspected on Monday night after talking with Yoko about a little more, the Navy docks where one of the main US bases in the area is located. It was like being home in Esquimalt, only there were way more little Japanese people around. We walked through a very western civilization looking garden, a rather delightful English rose garden really. We enjoyed the view of the water and the taste of salt then we decided it was time to hit the "American town" and go look for dirty sailors with bad tattoos. On our way out of the garden I had to take a moment and be One with the grass. I fondled it, and spoke to it softly and gently, we had a moment. It brought Yoko much delight to watch.
We headed off to find a street that is like the US "strip" of the town. It wasn't far from the park and it was easy to spot at one block back from the main drag. It's a narrow street lined with really random little shops full of camo gear (often far to "trendy" for my taste, camo doesn't normally come in size 0 that you have to pour yourself into) and really sketchy looking bars. A lot of it was closed up for day time, but the bit that we did see was rather, interesting. I'm all for random, sketchy parts of town, but this was really on the border for me. I was glad that it was daytime, even at that there was one guy who made me edgy by totally staring me down. Yes, I think I have actually found a place in the world that I will not return to. I bet it gets crazy at nights, it was cool to walk down it during the day and imagine, just imagine.
We arrived back at the station only to discover that the trains weren't running in the direction we wanted them to, which was more south, as there had been an "accident". So there was a 6.0 earthquake that shut the lines down for several hours in the early afternoon, at which point some poor deluded person decided that it would be the most opportune time to throw (or attempt to throw) themselves at an object moving at a rather quick velocity. That's usually what an "Accident" means. Either that or some yahoo tried to run the train crossing in a car and got stuck on the track or something. So it meant that we could only go north. We decided that we would stop at Zushi, the station where we were shortly stuck after being in Kamakura for all that time, and see if we could find more ocean. In Yoko's guide book it looked like there might even be some beach. So we set off again and arrived at the Zushi platform, which was probably about as far the train was going at that time until more tracks were cleared after the "Accident".
We were really sure of where we were going but we decided to head out on the road and head West. We followed a bunch of small streets and were making some progress when I mentioned that we should probably turn left as there was a hill in front of us and a hill behind us and it seemed to make sense that access to the ocean would be best between those two hills, as opposed to at the bottom of the hill where it would be rocky. So we ventured into the wilderness that is small, compact, Japanese suburbia of really nice beach houses. The roads are really narrow and totally NOT straight. We finally came to an underpass that seemed to end in sand! Ata, we found it. We came out on the other side to the most beautiful view of soft, dark, sandy beach and a calm, large bay. It was beautiful. We were terribly excited. Then we noticed along the edges of the beach were all these shanty type bars and cafes with music tumbling out of them and tiki torches lighting the way. I'm sorry. Where am I? I felt like I was in a mix of Jamaica, Mexico and Southern France. It was so odd and completely endearing. As we walked I felt more and more like myself again.
We walked down the beach a little way, stuck our feet in the sand, took a few shots and then decided that we had been on our feet far too long and took up residence on a little patch of sand in front of a Mexican cantina type place. Music was coming from all directions, the water was calm and the sun was starting to set. That was it. I decided that we were never leaving that spot ever again, unless it rained and then Yoko would leave, or I had to pee. Those two events were about the only things that would move us. The sky looked like it was going to open up and dump. I was excited. Yoko was scared. From there, we seriously just didn't move. Yoko had made some food for us to snack on and we decided that it would be the best dinner available. Otherwise we would have had to leave our new home. We sat there for a really long time. Like a really long time. We people watched, we chatted a little, but mostly we just sat there in silence, enjoying the night. And then the inevitable happened. I had to pee. We broke camp and started back down the beach. There were two old guys that we had been watching for some time trying, pathetically and with no luck, to pick up skinny little Japanese chicas (as if there are any other kind) and as we passed them I said "Hola, que tal?" and that started up a quick convo in Spanish and Japanese of where the toilets were located, that being much closer than what we had thought. Having taken care of business, we returned to our beloved home to enjoy the night and the silence. But it was not to be. I had broken the golden rule of avoiding dirty men, don't talk to them first. Oops. Oh well. So the convo started up again, drinks (as pathetic as they were...Chu-hi of all things, think really wussy cider) were offered and denied but Ricardo was here to stay. We joined camps and met his friend Christian. They're originally from Peru. Christian came to Japan intending to stay for 2 years, he's been here 12. I never did hear Ricardo's story. The multi-lingual conversation was terribly interesting and often rather confusing. They would talk to me in Spanish, to Yoko in Japanese and Yoko and I would talk to each other in English, and as group conversations go, there was a mix of everything in between. "Doko, ah. De donde tu vienes? Brazil?" "Ah, no, janai (Japanese for 'no it's wrong') Canada" "Canadiense? No. Verdad? (Spanish 'Really')" "Hai, no wait, Si!" I kept answering them in Japanese and every now and again in the middle of the sentence to make sure I was following in Spanish Christian would ask "Wakaru" (Japanese 'Do you understand?') with Spanish on either side of it. A couple times it happened that I didn't know what he was talking about so he would ask Yoko in Japanese and she would tell me what it meant in English. Or they were telling her something and between their odd accents (most Japanese are no good at understanding their own language with foreign accents) and the slurred speech (they had quite evidently had a few drinks before meeting us) she didn't understand what they were saying so they would explain in Spanish to me and I would tell her in English. Good times. And then we noticed that the music had died from the local establishments, and so the dirty old Peruvians (my new name for them) had to make up for it by putting on some music and then wanted to teach us to merengue. I already knew, which delighted them both to know end and they kept saying that they didn't believe that I was from Canada. Yoko had never danced like that before and was having some difficulty figuring out how to move her hips and feet and walk at the same time. It was fabulous. So we danced we with, well it really was only one dirty Peruvian as Christian was older and more gentlemanly, and I think he figured out pretty quick that I could have dropped him in an instant (I was taller than both of them...and sober...and feisty!), so we danced with one dirty Peruvian and one not so dirty old Peruvian on the beach in Mexico...I mean Jamaica...I mean Brazil...I mean Japan???
It was really dark, Ricardo's hands were starting to wander more (not on me, he didn't try twice!!) and I then realized that it was 9 and we still had quite a trek to get home. So we left our new friends on the beach and tried to make our way back to the station through all those little streets. We had a really good laugh on the train, mostly because by now I looked like my usual dirty hippie self and I was leaving a trail of sand everywhere I went, much to my delight. We did some "Vocabulary of the Day" review in English and Spanish (and like 2 words in Japanese that I've now already forgotten, I'm not meant to speak this language, much like German) and then had to part ways. We will return to Zushi. Soon.
So that was my most fabulous day. I have had a couple of really good days here, but I think this day takes the cake, or at least has to share most of the cake with a couple of other days, like the child you secretly harbour more love for but who still has to share the presents with its just slightly above average siblings just so they continue life without realizing that they are only just slightly above average and aren't as loved quite as much as the other one. I'm feeling more like myself again, as I'm sure is apparent in my writing, and I'm feeling like I'm ready for...An Adventure!!! (Yes, the super hero music has returned in the background and may just be a bit louder than before as it is trying to make up for lost time). Yoko is my hero for getting me out of the house, as much as I like my flat, it was time to have a shower and put some real and some clean clothes on.
I would first and foremost like to thank God. My parents for always supporting me. I want to thank Christian and Ricardo for reminding me to Merengue and all will be better. I want to say a special thank you to the rude guy at the ticket booth for making our cheap travel possible. To everyone at JR for working hard to make this trip a go. Oh, and how can I forget Mother Earth for working her brilliant timing to put us where we needed to be. And, and, oh, don't you start playing that music on me, I'll just keep talking over it. And to my husband who always believed in me, and to Danny in editing who does wonders with an airbrush. And, and. Oh, and to my fans, I love you, this ones for you. Thank you all.
Did I mention I'm feeling better?
Sunday, August 14, 2005
August 14, 2005
WARNING!!!---I use what would be deemed by many as foul language in this segment as there is no other word in the English language that truly exemplifies the full significance of the ideas being expressed. Sorry if I offend you---WARNING!!!!
This is mostly for my mother's sake, and Terri. Really, I tried to find a better word, but the only thing close...nonsense...is incredibly lacking.
After spending the last three days holed up in my little apartment watching documentaries on American and World Politics I have come around a full circle of emotions. I have felt rage and injustice and desire to change the world and a need to run to the mountains and hide and I have come to the conclusion that people need to pay more attention to how they live. I don't know how to change the world. I know that we need to stop trying to control everything and everyone, but in that thought, "Everyone must not control other people", saying it is exactly playing into the same control factor. I hear people rant about wanting to topple corporate greed and government's self-serving lies in their quest for greater power at the expense of the people they declare to serve and in their rant of wanting freedom for all people I hear "Let's bring our lives back into our own hands" which, still at the base of such argument, is still a control of people to live in the way those people then deem proper. It is all self-contradictory. Don't live the way the government wants you to, they're selfish. Don't live the way corporations want you to, they're greedy. Don't live the way the reigning religious movement of the day wants you to, they're misguided and full of shit. Live the way WE want you to, in freedom and harmony, in the way WE say, because we know best. We're always right. Do as I say, stop trying to control everything.
At the point in the circle where I have come, I now feel peace. Peace in knowing that everyone is full of shit, just the same as the next guy, me included. I feel that the greatest wisdom of all the world (and note, I say 'wisdom' not 'salvation') is found in,
Meaningless, meaningless, everything is meaningless.
And she breathes a sigh of relief...
This is mostly for my mother's sake, and Terri. Really, I tried to find a better word, but the only thing close...nonsense...is incredibly lacking.
After spending the last three days holed up in my little apartment watching documentaries on American and World Politics I have come around a full circle of emotions. I have felt rage and injustice and desire to change the world and a need to run to the mountains and hide and I have come to the conclusion that people need to pay more attention to how they live. I don't know how to change the world. I know that we need to stop trying to control everything and everyone, but in that thought, "Everyone must not control other people", saying it is exactly playing into the same control factor. I hear people rant about wanting to topple corporate greed and government's self-serving lies in their quest for greater power at the expense of the people they declare to serve and in their rant of wanting freedom for all people I hear "Let's bring our lives back into our own hands" which, still at the base of such argument, is still a control of people to live in the way those people then deem proper. It is all self-contradictory. Don't live the way the government wants you to, they're selfish. Don't live the way corporations want you to, they're greedy. Don't live the way the reigning religious movement of the day wants you to, they're misguided and full of shit. Live the way WE want you to, in freedom and harmony, in the way WE say, because we know best. We're always right. Do as I say, stop trying to control everything.
At the point in the circle where I have come, I now feel peace. Peace in knowing that everyone is full of shit, just the same as the next guy, me included. I feel that the greatest wisdom of all the world (and note, I say 'wisdom' not 'salvation') is found in,
Meaningless, meaningless, everything is meaningless.
And she breathes a sigh of relief...
Thursday, August 11, 2005
August 11, 2005
I went on an adventure today. I woke up early, although not as early as I had originally intended to because I couldn't get to sleep last night so I kept moving the alarm forward an hour for every hour that I couldn't get to sleep, and headed out of the house by 8:30 for the train station. I went to park my bike when this pretty young little thing (Aren't they all? I hate them all) came over to me and started rambling on saying something to the effect of you can't park your bike there. Okay, so all these other bikes that are right beside mine can't be parked here either and never mind the fact that I have parked my bike in this exact spot several times now, but okay, I can't park here. Then where shall I park? Directions in Japanese with not enough hand gestures for me to figure out what she is saying. Short story, made long, she shows me where to put my bike, in pay parking(!) and I hop the next train. Train, transfer, train, wait, transfer, train, and I'm on my way out of town.
It took some time to start seeing less concrete and more green, but after about 40 minutes it was finally starting to look more rural with little towns along the way. I came to Taito station and got off. Normally there's these fancy electronic gates and fare adjustment machines. Taito station has a cute little old man taking tickets, I had to show him that I owed more money. He gave me directions to the main street headed East, essentially, find the street with cars on it and just keep walking. Almost an hour later of walking through farm land, the air was starting to cool and the houses were getting smaller. I came into the part of the town of Taito-Misaki that has all the "beach" homes. They're second homes for people in Tokyo to come to the sea. I had finally found OCEAN!!! The area is known as the Dover of Asia. Giant white cliffs brush the coast to the north and then right where I was standing they end and the shore continues on for miles of coarse sandy beaches to the south.
I stood there for a while just listening and taking it all in. To the left were these giant concrete slabs and there were some old guys fishing off them with these huge long fishing poles. It looked really funny to have these giant poles, and then these itty bitty fish off the end of them that they were catching. Seemed a little bit overkill, but they're so far from the water that they needed the long poles for the long cast offs they had to do. I took a little stroll around the corner of one of the bluffs and found that the slabs kept going for a long way, but many had dipped and fallen into the sea. I decided to stay where I was an not venture any further as it looked like if I slipped on one of them, I wouldn't be missed until I didn't show up for work next Wednesday. I sat down on the concrete and just watched the ocean roll in and smelled the seaweed and it was quite splendid.
Once my butt started to get numb from sitting on the concrete, I decided it was time to stroll to the south to see what I could find. I hadn't yet seen the sand beach, but I had a feeling they were there. I walked but a few minutes and it opened right up to be seen for miles and then faded around a point into the haze. I was excited to see sand, but then my excitement subsided when I managed to get myself over the railing and onto the beach of very black, very coarse, sticky sand and shell pieces. Not exactly, lay out the blanket and sleep the afternoon away kind of environment. It was still nice to dip my feet in the Pacific (even though the water is full of sand that then sticks to your whole body and doesn't brush off nicely after it dries) and to take some shots of the surfers. I had a moment of 'Where am I? I'm not in SD, where am I?' when I saw the guys standing there with their boards. But the nature of the waves and the beach make surfing as I know it on the West Coast impossible (where you paddle out and catch a wave in back to shore). The waves break within feet of the shore, so it's a lot more like skim boarding, but on little waves. They looked like they were having a lot of fun.
I was feeling like I just couldn't get comfortable between the concrete and the unruly sand so I was considering leaving but as I was about to walk away from the walkway and make my way back to the station I found that I just couldn’t do it. I wanted to take the sound and the water home with me and couldn't imagine not being around the waves. So I ditched my pack and just stood there at the railing watching the waves crash into the giant concrete forms for like another hour. Several times I picked up my pack to leave but I would make it like 2 feet and I would turn back around and drop my pack. Once I was finally able to make my way from the shore I stopped in at this white greek inspired monstrosity that was one lot in from the sea walk. It was called Mike's Treasure House and Café. I have found Mr. Miyagi's little brother! Mike wears cowboy boots and a California tourist shirt with Indians on it. He's Japanese and barely speaks any English but has this store/café with all sorts of American paraphernalia from the last 70 years. I had old metal lunch boxes and a saddle and a large assortment of used cowboy boots and old English restaurant chalk boards where you right the Specials Of The Day. He had two floors of stuff. It was like walking around a museum. Then he lead my up some narrow little stairs that I hadn't noticed before. They led to a square little door to outside and some more steps until we were up on his roof. It was fabulous. You could see for miles and miles around (okay, maybe not actually around as the cliffs kinda got in the way, but at least 280 degrees around for miles and miles). The floor is a blue marbled like substance and in the corner was his tub and shower where he'll sit and soak under the stars and the moon. It was perfectly splendid and totally not Japanese. I felt like I was on the Cote D'Azure, except for the constant drone of the cicadae (that's the proper plural for 'cicadas') in the trees surrounding the hills. I asked him some questions about the area and we had a nice, albeit broken, conversation. The concrete blocks and forms evidently made a walking and bicycle path long ago that stretched for 2 km to the north. Now it's all broken down and rather unsafe to go very far on anymore. About as far as I had gone, was far enough.
I made my way back to the train station, missed the train by two minutes and sat on the old wooden benches in the random old station that has probably been there since before the war for another hour, reading, waiting for the next train. I made it home, ditched my stuff and slathered lotion on my poor sun burnt shoulders.
It took some time to start seeing less concrete and more green, but after about 40 minutes it was finally starting to look more rural with little towns along the way. I came to Taito station and got off. Normally there's these fancy electronic gates and fare adjustment machines. Taito station has a cute little old man taking tickets, I had to show him that I owed more money. He gave me directions to the main street headed East, essentially, find the street with cars on it and just keep walking. Almost an hour later of walking through farm land, the air was starting to cool and the houses were getting smaller. I came into the part of the town of Taito-Misaki that has all the "beach" homes. They're second homes for people in Tokyo to come to the sea. I had finally found OCEAN!!! The area is known as the Dover of Asia. Giant white cliffs brush the coast to the north and then right where I was standing they end and the shore continues on for miles of coarse sandy beaches to the south.
I stood there for a while just listening and taking it all in. To the left were these giant concrete slabs and there were some old guys fishing off them with these huge long fishing poles. It looked really funny to have these giant poles, and then these itty bitty fish off the end of them that they were catching. Seemed a little bit overkill, but they're so far from the water that they needed the long poles for the long cast offs they had to do. I took a little stroll around the corner of one of the bluffs and found that the slabs kept going for a long way, but many had dipped and fallen into the sea. I decided to stay where I was an not venture any further as it looked like if I slipped on one of them, I wouldn't be missed until I didn't show up for work next Wednesday. I sat down on the concrete and just watched the ocean roll in and smelled the seaweed and it was quite splendid.
Once my butt started to get numb from sitting on the concrete, I decided it was time to stroll to the south to see what I could find. I hadn't yet seen the sand beach, but I had a feeling they were there. I walked but a few minutes and it opened right up to be seen for miles and then faded around a point into the haze. I was excited to see sand, but then my excitement subsided when I managed to get myself over the railing and onto the beach of very black, very coarse, sticky sand and shell pieces. Not exactly, lay out the blanket and sleep the afternoon away kind of environment. It was still nice to dip my feet in the Pacific (even though the water is full of sand that then sticks to your whole body and doesn't brush off nicely after it dries) and to take some shots of the surfers. I had a moment of 'Where am I? I'm not in SD, where am I?' when I saw the guys standing there with their boards. But the nature of the waves and the beach make surfing as I know it on the West Coast impossible (where you paddle out and catch a wave in back to shore). The waves break within feet of the shore, so it's a lot more like skim boarding, but on little waves. They looked like they were having a lot of fun.
I was feeling like I just couldn't get comfortable between the concrete and the unruly sand so I was considering leaving but as I was about to walk away from the walkway and make my way back to the station I found that I just couldn’t do it. I wanted to take the sound and the water home with me and couldn't imagine not being around the waves. So I ditched my pack and just stood there at the railing watching the waves crash into the giant concrete forms for like another hour. Several times I picked up my pack to leave but I would make it like 2 feet and I would turn back around and drop my pack. Once I was finally able to make my way from the shore I stopped in at this white greek inspired monstrosity that was one lot in from the sea walk. It was called Mike's Treasure House and Café. I have found Mr. Miyagi's little brother! Mike wears cowboy boots and a California tourist shirt with Indians on it. He's Japanese and barely speaks any English but has this store/café with all sorts of American paraphernalia from the last 70 years. I had old metal lunch boxes and a saddle and a large assortment of used cowboy boots and old English restaurant chalk boards where you right the Specials Of The Day. He had two floors of stuff. It was like walking around a museum. Then he lead my up some narrow little stairs that I hadn't noticed before. They led to a square little door to outside and some more steps until we were up on his roof. It was fabulous. You could see for miles and miles around (okay, maybe not actually around as the cliffs kinda got in the way, but at least 280 degrees around for miles and miles). The floor is a blue marbled like substance and in the corner was his tub and shower where he'll sit and soak under the stars and the moon. It was perfectly splendid and totally not Japanese. I felt like I was on the Cote D'Azure, except for the constant drone of the cicadae (that's the proper plural for 'cicadas') in the trees surrounding the hills. I asked him some questions about the area and we had a nice, albeit broken, conversation. The concrete blocks and forms evidently made a walking and bicycle path long ago that stretched for 2 km to the north. Now it's all broken down and rather unsafe to go very far on anymore. About as far as I had gone, was far enough.
I made my way back to the train station, missed the train by two minutes and sat on the old wooden benches in the random old station that has probably been there since before the war for another hour, reading, waiting for the next train. I made it home, ditched my stuff and slathered lotion on my poor sun burnt shoulders.
Saturday, August 6, 2005
August 6, 2005
We have had summer school courses all this past week. I had three classes a day, 80 minutes each. One was a playgroup with two stinkin' adorable little girls and their mums. Hana and Azumi. Two years old. They were so smart and they loved me. I would walk in the room in the morning and they would start screaming "Helloooooo" and waving their hands on my hands. Too cute. We learned all about animals. I could have taken both of them home with me. On our second day, just after our snack, we were reading a story on the floor. I was facing them and their mums when something under the table caught my eye. It was big. It was black. It was scurrying quickly. It was a cockroach. The mums can speak a bit of English, but obviously not enough to catch on to my hints of, "Um, um, there's a great big bug behind you, um, big, really big, um big big bug. Um, turn around, um there's a big, big bug" as I'm trying to focus on their eyes and looking behind them to draw their attention. I know now I should have just said cockroach as the girls didn't know the word but I didn't want them to freak out. They finally clued in, the one mum had the same reaction as me and the other mum grabbed a slapper (essentially a bug slapper that we use to play the slap game with flashcards) and called her daughter. Little Hana then grabbed another slapper and went into the middle of the room tippy toeing with the slapper above her head like a mighty hunter. Her mum flicked it out of the crevice it was hiding in between the white board and the wall and Hana went crazy. It was as close to a "Bwa-ha-ha" that a 2 year old Japanese girl can get to I would say. "Gokiburi, gokiburi, bwa ha ha". She thought the hunt was great. Her mum slapped it, after it ran over my shoes, killed it, and cleaned it up with a Kleenex. The other mum and I then applauded her kill. She's my new hero. The event had distracted Hana who was still aglow from the hunt and the kill so everything that I asked her for the next while she answered "Gokiburi!" (Japanese for 'cockroach', if you hadn't guessed). "Hana, what's this?" "Wa ha, gokuburi! Tee hee." "Close, it's a horse".
After that class, I had a Kindie class, with one kid. Wow. She learned soooo much. Can you hear the sarcasm in my voice. We just kind played a lot. Her name's Chinami, she's 5. She has absolutely no interest what so ever in speaking English. She knows more than she uses or responds to. I think I learned more Japanese from her than she learned English from me. She spoke pretty much exclusively Japanese. We played with these giant foam letter tiles that you can hook together to make all sorts of fabulous things. Like great big towers. We laughed a lot. She thought I was crazy. I think she's nuts. Yesterday during our last class she actually started using some English. As we were sitting down to our snack (yes, I got a snack during each class!) she decided that I should no longer be called Michelle. She looked at me intently as though considering the very essence of existential reasoning, clapped her hands once and said "Ah! Wakata" ('Ah, I know!) She looked at me right in the eyes, pointed at me and said "Hippo!" and then giggled. I then acted completely shocked and scandalized. I pointed at her and thought real hard and said "Horse". She retorted with "Elephant!" This then sparked a verbal volley of animal names for the next 40 minutes. It was a good time.
My other class was two middle aged ladies who love to travel. So for three days we pretty much just chatted about traveling stories and I gave them huge lists of useful travel phrases. Certainly not creative speech, but it gets the job done when you're lost in the train station. They were really nice and I enjoyed them a lot as well.
After that class, I had a Kindie class, with one kid. Wow. She learned soooo much. Can you hear the sarcasm in my voice. We just kind played a lot. Her name's Chinami, she's 5. She has absolutely no interest what so ever in speaking English. She knows more than she uses or responds to. I think I learned more Japanese from her than she learned English from me. She spoke pretty much exclusively Japanese. We played with these giant foam letter tiles that you can hook together to make all sorts of fabulous things. Like great big towers. We laughed a lot. She thought I was crazy. I think she's nuts. Yesterday during our last class she actually started using some English. As we were sitting down to our snack (yes, I got a snack during each class!) she decided that I should no longer be called Michelle. She looked at me intently as though considering the very essence of existential reasoning, clapped her hands once and said "Ah! Wakata" ('Ah, I know!) She looked at me right in the eyes, pointed at me and said "Hippo!" and then giggled. I then acted completely shocked and scandalized. I pointed at her and thought real hard and said "Horse". She retorted with "Elephant!" This then sparked a verbal volley of animal names for the next 40 minutes. It was a good time.
My other class was two middle aged ladies who love to travel. So for three days we pretty much just chatted about traveling stories and I gave them huge lists of useful travel phrases. Certainly not creative speech, but it gets the job done when you're lost in the train station. They were really nice and I enjoyed them a lot as well.
Thursday, August 4, 2005
August 4, 2005
Taeko had a BBQ at her house tonight. She invited me and one other teacher (I call her "The Other One", Taeko calls her "#1", whereas I'm "#2"). There was two other receptionists from the school as well. We had a fabulous time. We all ate waaaay too much; too much meat, too many vegetables, too much sashimi salad. She has a big flat sort of Hibachi looking thing that we filled with strips of beef and pork and eggplant and mushrooms and beans and peppers. So good. We then moved inside for desert of peaches and blackberries that have been soaking in really strong Sake for about a year. It was fabulous. We laughed a whole lot. We told stories and discussed all the Japanese language things that the Other One gets wrong on a daily basis. She is always saying things wrong and they of course end up being something that is completely inappropriate. Hey, at least she tries to use the language. I don't like getting it wrong, so I don't say anything, but I think I understand more of what is being said than she does. A good time all around.
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