Sunday, December 18, 2011

A Typical Day for Jiggy Sensei

*Please note I began this blog in December while preparing for Christmas and before Sashimi died :( Yes, thats how busy I've been that it takes me over a month to write a blog...I've not been keeping up with any of my New Years Resolutions at all.*

I've been teaching at an Eikaiwa (private English conversation school) in rural Japan for nearly a year now. Admittedly, I didn't like it at first but now that my contract is coming to an end, I can't bear the thought of leaving some of the students I've become so attached to. My first few months I remember being really frustrated I couldn't communicate with them and understand their stories, answer their questions, or discipline them. But as the year goes on, I've come to realize just how non-verbal a language skill really is. I've discovered their personalities, their pecking orders in class, what sections of the class they like and don't like, have developed favourites (I know I shouldn't) and not so favourites. Sure, the ALT's have better hours and holidays, an easier job and more money, but they don't have the connection I have with my small intimate classes. Let me give you an insight into my day yesterday.

7:30am - I wake up even though my alarms set for 8:30am. This is probably because up until last Sunday I was waking up early in the morning to study for my geography class because I'm too tired when I come home at night. I turn on my heater so the room is not so cold when I do get up eventually. Japanese heating and insulation sucks. In fact, there is no insulation.
8:10ish am - I get up and feed Sashimi (my fish), turn on the kettle and hop in the shower
8:30AM - sit on FB while drinking multiple cups of coffee, eating brekkie (yogurt and banana) and thinking I should do something productive with my morning seeing as I don't have to be at the office till 12:10pm
9:00AM - I throw some laundry in the washing machine. Clean the toilet. Decide to make okinomiyaki to take for lunch the next few days because I know I'll be too busy to again till Sunday, if I'm lucky. ADD kicks in and I decide I should wrap presents but can't decide what to give to who (I bought a bunch of foreign goodies in Hiroshima last Sunday after I wrote my exam to give to some students). Scrap that idea. Decide to sit and watch Misfits while I make goodie bags for the kids.
10:30AM - Should probably hang my laundry out to dry. Keep forgetting about my okinomiyaki sizzling away.
11:00AM - Should probably start getting ready for work
12:00PM - That's me running out the door, late, coffee in hand. How do I always end up rushing to work when I get up so early?
12:10PM - Just on time. I'm greeted at the door in a flurry. Always in a hurry as usual, but with nowhere to go and nothing to do. Oh Japan...I get my schedule and get my files together. I'm going to Yanai today and Tomas is driving me. Ugh. I hate driving with Tomas. I'd much rather take the train and stare out the window or read or write. Tomas is the other foreign teacher at my school He's American and he's an arrogant, pompous, conceited, self-righteous, anti-social twat. Our car rides usually consist of silence and the sound of the buttons on my phone while I e-mail someone. If I do say anything it's more often than not met with silence or a sarcastic remark. How he's a conversation teacher I really don't know. He also had the nerve to ask me when I'll be out of my childish phase because I was excited about Halloween. I really wish he would have quit so I could work with someone cool. But unfortunately he's a loner who likes to hike so Shitari is perfect for him. I especially like the train ride to Iwakuni. After Yanai, I can just sit and stare at the sea. I often think one day I'd like to just get off in one of the little towns I always stop in and have a look around but of course it's probably never going to happen. It reminds me of the Jack Johnson lyrics 'I hope this old train breaks down, then I could take a walk around, and see what there is to see, and time is just a melody, all the people in the street, walk as fast as their feet can take them, I just roll through town, and though my windows got a view, the frame I'm looking through, seems to have no concern for now...'
12:50pm - Arrive in Yanai and I'm supposed to prepare for my 6 classes from now until 2pm. The classes are all the same and I can do it in my sleep by now. Plus they're mainly just working on their skits for the Christmas drama day so no real learning. From 2pm to 2:20pm I'm supposed to be having my first 20 minutes of break time, so I wander over to 7-11 to buy something to eat when I get my next 40 minutes. Im so sick of 7-11 bentos, onigiri, and convenience food by now, but I don't ever have the time to cook real food. It should be a New Years Resolution not to eat at 7-11 everyday. I never ate there this much even in Canada as a uni student!
2:20PM - my first class of the day is with a cute little old man who's about 72. Kazuo's English is pretty good, even if he thinks it's not. I don't prepare much for his class anymore as we usually don't do any of it, and just sit and chat instead. Some of the adult students are like this and some are shy and you have to prepare a lot for the lesson. Sometimes Kazuo picks me up from the station and we listen to NHK and I spend the class explaining what the news was talking about in English.
3:20PM - I'm supposed to have my next 40 minutes of break time now. I hate when she breaks the schedule up like this, it's so ridiculous because it doesn't have to be done and it always means we don't get our full actual break time. One of the many reasons I'm leaving in February.
4:00PM - 15 minutes of cleaning time and then a kindergarten student is supposed to come to practice his speech for 10 minutes but he doesn't….why couldn't I just have my full hour of break time here???
4:25PM - kindergarten class. It's only 2 little boys but they are little hellions and some days they make me want to cry, they're so frustrating. The mother of one always stays but it doesn't help at all, she just sits there and yells his name (JUNKO!) or talks to them in Japanese. Today she brings me a Christmas gift of an Astro Boy mug, notebook and calendar because I once told her I like Astro Boy. I think she always feels sorry for me having to teach this class all the time. Her little 3 year old that is always with her is super cute too. The boys are actually relatively good today.
5:10PM - 2nd class of 5 in a row with no break. Its an elementary class of 5 boys, a girl, and 3 different learning levels. But of course the boss doesn't care about that, so no one in the class is actually learning anything. Sometimes they can be bratty but they've been good the last few months since I made the mistake of complaining about them to the boss and she had a talk with them and made them cry and stripped them of their youthful spirit :(. We're mainly practicing for drama day today so its an easy class. They've found the picture in their books of my introduction a year ago when I had black hair and hard core tranny bangs and have decided I look like Lady Gaga so at the end of the class when I say 'Attention! Goodbye everyone!' Instead of saying 'Goodbye Jiggy Sensei!' They say 'Goodbye Lady Gaga!' Thank goodness Daiki's mother didn't sit in today…I never know what to think of her, but I'm pretty sure she doesn't like me since August when she saw me at a beer garden with piercings and tattoos out for all the world to see lol
6:10PM - Next class is one of my favourites, 3 girls in the 6th grade and 1 boy in the 5th grade. Admittedly, when I first started I dreaded teaching this class because they were so noisy, but I've got used to them, plus there used to be twice as many of them. I remember talking in class all the time at that age, and I was ridiculously shy then. They're studying for Eiken 4 now so there English isn't great but we still somehow find a way to communicate and they're one of the classes I'll miss the most. They're also the only class who can say my name and calls me 'Tzigane Teacher' instead of 'Ziggy Teacher'. I think we've bonded over a mutual dislike for the boss ever since they told me their nickname for her is 'GO' (short for Gedai o kure meaning old fashioned or out of date). Today they're asking me if I have a boyfriend and if its Tomas, at which point I scream NO! and we start teasing Chikara about his girlfriend who's in the grade above him (so I of course give him a high five). Chikara also does an amazing impression of Kazushige (aka Captain Fruitloops), a Japanese teacher when I first started who was ridiculously polite. He also tries to make me say unko (poo in Japanese). When I tell them it's sometimes -50C in Canada, they tell me they would die, by first doing a sleeping gesture and then flying to the sky.
7:10PM - This class is a private class with a girl who is painfully shy. I think she's about 11 or 12 and her English is good (she's studying for Eiken Pre-2) but it's so difficult to get a word out of her. She reminds me a bit of myself at that age. Tomas once described her as a paraplegic puppy….I told you he's a jerk.
8:10PM - Last class of the day is with Yuina. She's been studying English since she was pretty much a baby and is practically fluent. She's 12 now and one of my favourite students, ever since I met her. She's so cute, I wish she was my little sister and could just give her a giant hug. She always has the cutest clothes and talks about Hannah Montana and High School Musical and Zack Effron. She's studying Eiken 2 now, but most of our class I end up just talking with her. Today I teach her to say 'for shizzle my nizzle'.
9:10PM - Our class is over and Yuina's mother gives me a ride to Yanai eki because the school is about a 30-40 minute walk away. I've walked it before but most of the time I get a ride. I usually get there just in time for the train to Hikari at 9:24PM. It's about a 20 minute train ride and I have to stop at the office to drop off the files and give the boss my schedule for the day before I can get home, usually around 10PM. I cook some noodles for my dinner, check out Facebook, chat to some friends, and watch some crappy TV before doing dishes and heading to bed around 11:30PM…I used to stay up late and get up late but now I try to keep a semi regular schedule.

And that's my day in a nutshell.Its not for everyone, but I've grown to love it :)

Sunday, October 30, 2011

You can take the girl out of the country...


Ughghgh it's been over two months since my last post...obviously this shows how busy I've been. Not sure where the time has gone, but it's mostly been filled with work, studying for my online geography course and the occasional outing. I've been so stressed my hair has begun falling out again! But only 40 more days till the class is over! So because of this, I wrote the following blog on the train back from the Shimonoseki JET Halloween party yesterday as I forgot to bring my textbook in my rush to the train.

Over the past few months or so, the farmers have been busy with rice harvest. As I've sat on the train, watching them work in their tiny fields, I realized this is the first time in my 28 years I've not been involved in harvest. Harvest time I think is definetely my favourite time of year on the farm, and probably the time I miss home the most. Maybe even more than at Christmas time, especially over the last few years. As a child, I remember sitting on the combine with my mother or father or in the pickup truck reading and listening to the radio. Everytime the combine would make another round past me, I'd excitedly jump out and wave to whoever was driving it. As I got older, this is where I first learned to drive, weaving in and out of the bales, and practicing parallel parking. In high school, I would bring the meals to the men in the field after I got home from school. Fall was also when we would get to go to Lloyd to sell my calves and I could see my bank account suddenly increase and I'd go spend the majority of it at Lammles.

Working on farms in Australia I got to wrap silage bales and haul them home and castrate the lamb's and dock their tails. Even while in the city in university, I still got to take a small part in harvest through the ag college and fields located in the city that I walked past everyday on the way home. Most of these have unfortunately been bought by the city now and turned into huge shopping complexes of evil box stores such as Wal-Mart, Rona's, and Michaels. In Scotland, I could escape to my bosses farm in Cannich and feed the pigs. Every autumn I was in Europe I also spent about a month in Switzerland working under the table helping a friend and his family with potatoe harvest.

I'm not sure what it is that I like so much about this time of the year but I think it's the sense of community and how everyone seems to pull together to help out. Sometimes in Canada/North America because of the loss of family farms and how mechanized farming has become, it seems this sense of helping out has been lost. However, in September 2004 when my father had his chainsaw accident and was laid up for a few months, neighbours and relatives all helped out with finishing my father's harvest in addition to their own. The same happened the fall my mother was in the hospital. As nice as it is, it's a shame it usually only happens now when there's a tragedy in the family. At tattie harvest in Switzerland, there were at least 20 friends, neighbours, and family helping out every day.


Another thing that has surprised me about agriculture outside of North America is the amount of work that is still done by hand, even in other 'westernized, developed' countries. But by this, I don't by any means insinuate that farming in North America is easy. Travelling through Turkey and Greece in the autumn of 2008, I remember seeing people working out in the hot fields, digging the potatoes by hand, putting them in bags, and loading the bags onto horse drawn carts. This, in direct contrast to the tattie harvest I had just participated in in Switzerland a mere few weeks earlier, thinking that was hard, hands-on work. 'All' we did was stand in front of a conveyor belt picking out rocks and bad tatties while the machine did all the work, bagging them included. Here in Japan, there were often up to 10 people in a field, probably no more than 2 acres big, often cutting the rice stalks by hand and laying them out to dry on large wooden horses. How they ever get it to dry in this climate, I don't know.

Last Christmas while I was visiting my second home in Scotland, I saw an old friend I hadn't seen since my first summer I spent in Drum. He was surprised that I had come back repeatedly every year since, stating "I thought you'd get out of here as soon as you could, you seem like such a city girl." And he was surprised to learn I had grown up on a farm/ranch and studied agriculture. (Looking back maybe he wasn't such a good friend after all!) Yet I keep coming back to Drum/the countryside in general. There's something about the fresh air, getting your hands dirty, and the feeling of satisfaction going to bed at night knowing you've done a hard day's work. I love going home and cruising down the gravel road with the window rolled down, the wind in my hair, listening to Harry Decker drone on as all my worries slip away (as cliche as it sounds). Nothing makes me happier. And it reminds me that my true passion still lies in agriculture, just not the route I first took. Everytime I've moved to another country I've always said I wanted to live in Sydney/London/Tokyo yet I've always ended up in Timboon/Drumnadrochit/Hikari. And you know what? I couldn't be happier.

Friday, August 26, 2011

The Ultimate Comfort Food

The other night I came home from work at my typical time around 10pm. After looking around my kitchen and realizing I had nothing to eat that could be made quickly, I remembered I had spent a small fortune on a tiny block of Scottish red cheddar in Hiroshima last week. Grilled cheese! As I took my first bite of a proper grilled cheese (non of this processed cheese slice crap), I realized I can follow the timeline of my life through various grilled cheese stages.


My earliest memory of grilled cheese is staying home from school sick as a child. My lunchtime meal would almost always be the perfect grilled cheese sandwich and a bowl of tomato soup, prepared by my dad. I was one of those kids who played sick quite often. Always the planner, at the start of every month, I would pick the day I wanted to be sick. I would begin the night before at the supper table by complaining my stomach hurt and not eating and then going to bed early. The next morning before my alarm went off I would hide under all my blankets to give the illusion of having a fever for when my mother came to wake me. Sometimes under my bed I would even hide talcum powder to put on my face so I looked pale. My mother would leave for work and my father would go outside to do chores and I was free until lunchtime when he would come in and make me the ultimate meal.


In university, it became one of my staple foods, along with Kraft Dinner, hot dogs, and instant noodles. Now, I enjoy cooking (as my waistline shows) but back then I hated it and didn't have the time to worry about proper nutrition so all I needed was a giant block of Cheddar from Costco, a freezer full of homemade bread from mom and a giant bottle of Heinz ketchup and I was set.

After my second year of uni, my true gypsy nature got a hold of me and I took off to Australia for a year. My boyfriend in Australia was obsessed with grilled cheese and he probably made the best I had ever tasted. I don't know how it's possible but I was addicted. Perhaps he sprinkled some crack into it? Or maybe the sandwich maker he used gave it a little extra something by sealing the edges and the flavour in, rather than the usual oven or stove top version.


Perhaps my most fond memories of grilled cheese (or cheese toasties as they're called in the U.K.) are of in Scotland and coming home to the hostel in Drum at a ridiculous hour with the munchies. Because it was Drum, there were no shops open at 3am to get the usual British drunk food of kebabs or chips. So it was up to us to feed our own cravings and it more often than not ended up being a cheese toastie (unless of course a tour group had just been in and then we would steal their leftover chicken). The whole gang would ascend on the outside kitchen and we would drunkenly slave over the stove making our cheese toasties, with more than a few accidents, leading us to the motto 'Cooking when drunk is a recipe for disaster'. At the festivals we would even sometimes serve various cheese toasties such as cheese and leek, cheese and tomato, or *WAIT FOR IT* CHEESE AND BACON!!!! How did I not think of such a brilliant concoction before? I do apologize to all my vegetarian friends, but this is literally the most amazing sandwich in the world and you don't know what you're missing.

Returning to Canada after any extended travelling I also have fond memories of Harry Potter days with my best friend while eating grilled cheese or my room mate bringing me a plate of greasy goodness as I lie in bed hungover after a very welcoming welcome back party. One of the few remaining happy memories I have of 'the ex' is even of cooking grilled cheese over the campfire at Pike Lake.


In Japan I've been making Japanese grilled cheese. The recipe is as follows: Squeezy butter, crappy processed cheese slices (or expensive imported cheese from shop in Hiroshima), and expensive Japanese bread. Make as you would in any other country but eat it in Japan. And there you have Japanese grilled cheese.


The history of grilled cheese, according to Wikipedia dates back to ancient times. Apparently it was a common food in the Great Depression of the 1920's, due to its cheap ingredients. It is common in cultures around the world, due to both cheese and bread being a staple, easily available, cheap(ish) food. I even like cold grilled cheese sandwiches. But this is coming from a person who prefers cold coffee and warm beer. Grilled cheese is the food that goes with me wherever I go, the ultimate comfort food.

Saturday, August 6, 2011

Nights out in Shitari

A few months ago, my fellow teachers and I renamed our new hometown from Hikari to Shitari, due to the non existent nightlife. The streets are literally dead after 9pm and the only people who live here are senior citizens and children. Small by Japanese standards, the city is still roughly around 30,000 people so you would think there would be a few decent bars, but we haven't even been able to mind one measly club.

Then two weeks ago, my boss invited us to a Japanese beer garden on Saturday night. It was my Saturday to work and admittedly I thought all of day of an excuse to get out of it, but never came up with one good enough. We walked to the 'beer garden' which had a beautiful view of the Inland Sea. To me, a beer garden has always been a big striped temporary tent at a rodeo or festival, consisting of rows upon rows of tables, drunks, and a smokey haze upon entry. Most Japanese beer gardens are on roof tops of buildings overlooking the city but this one was inside a large Italian restaurant with a buffet of food, an entrance fee, and unlimited beer and food. The only thing similar was the smokey haze upon entry. We stayed a few hours and got a good buzz, before we decided to move things to 'Stage Two' (the bosses exact words). We wandered over to the Jazz Bar. It was about 9:30pm on a Saturday night when we entered and the place was deserted. After a few drinks everyone started parting ways to catch trains home (the last trains leave around 11pm...I told you it was the middle of nowhere!). Eventually it was just Tomas and I and and the Master (bartender). Suddenly in walked a group of three. One of the girls could speak English quite well and began translating for us with another newcomer. The new guy found out I was from Canada and started telling me how he had spent a week there 10 years ago. He stood up abruptly and left, and I figured he was going out for a cigarette. Ten minuted later he's back with a photo album he had run home to get. I politely flipped through it until I got to the last few pictures, which were of him in bed...with a man. Tomas turns to him and asks him what they're all about. He looks at them and says 'Oh! That was my lover. I was gay, but I'm happily married now...to a woman!' And he holds up his left hand and points to his ring finger. Suddenly he stands up and leaves the bar again, taking everything with him. We didn't think he was coming back but suddenly he walks in again with bags from 7-11 that he hands to the Master. The Master opens them and lifts out enough cakes for everyone in the bar. He hands one to each of us and goes around pouring a shot of Tia Maria on everyone's. Soon after we finished, Mr. Happily Married gets up and leaves again, this time never to be seen again. His seat is replaced soon after, however. It doesn't take long before the new customer strikes up a broken conversation with the only gaijin's for miles around. Turns out he's a magician, who's also happily married. Do you see a pattern here? Surely it can't be Tomas, as he's not exactly the David Beckham the boss says he is. Obviously I won't be finding out if the myth about Japanese men is true, not in this town anyway! We sat while he did card tricks for us, but couldn't have been too good as even in my drunken haze I saw him mess up a few times. He gave me a card with his website on it: Hono Bono Magic, Mr. Mane. I have yet to find the website however...eventually we meander home through the empty streets stealing figs on the way...

Last Saturday we went out again, this time to the bosses condo which overlooks the Nijigahama Beach. In my six months here, I have never seen Shitari so packed. It was the biggest event all year in the city; the annual fireworks celebration. We had a barbecue which Bruce, the new teacher/retired ex-sniper had cooked for us. When we got there at 6:30pm he was already hammered. By the time the fireworks began at 8:00 and I had half finished my box of wine, I was well on my way as well. The fireworks lasted for exactly one hour, finishing at 9:00 on the dot. Tomas, Bruce, and I decided to continue the party at the Irish bar near the station, taking two of our adult students with us. We stopped at 7-11 on the way to get a drink for the 30 second walk. The parking lot was filled with Japanese teenage rebels with orange hair and sparkly Hello Kitty outfits (for the boys) and yukata (for the girls), drinking grape Fanta and bragging about the time they came 2 minutes late to class. After walking through the crowd yelling 'Kampai!' about 30 times we arrived at our destination. Bruce was dancing with the locals and we were having a great time. Atsushi asked to see Bruce's bullet wounds and he showed them to us, but after that the mood seemed to change. Bruce eventually passed out in his chair and suddenly he fell right out of it. Some of the locals ran over to help him up and we got him sitting again. They kept asking 'Are you OK? Are you OK?' until suddenly all hell broke loose and Bruce opened his eyes and knocked the Japanese man closest to him out, sending his glasses flying. Suddenly, the table was thrown over, glasses broken, salsa on the walls, and Tomas held up against the wall by an ex-Marine sniper, capable of doing who knows what? Poor innocent Masako jumped up to get the tiny barmaid, as if she could do anything. I tried to pull Bruce off of Tomas but could feel his muscles flexing, the bloode and adrenaline coarsing through his veins, and knew it was pointless to try. All the while the Japanese fools (no racism intended, but they were getting annoying and only making matters worse) were behind me, yabbering away. I don't know what I said exactly, but I finally felt Bruce relax and managed to get him sitting down, but Tomas wouldn't let go of his wrists for fear he would hit me. I can't remember the words that were said, but all I remember is looking into his eyes and seeing sadness and pain, like I've never seen before. Suddenly he was hugging me and telling me he wanted to go to the beach. We got our things together, paid a ridiculous amount, all the while muttering gomen nasai to the barmaid and when we were ready to go, Bruce was again nowhere to be seen, his phone and glasses sitting on the table. After searching around the station and beach we found him passed out on a set of stairs, convinced him to get up and crash at out apartment, only to have him sit down on on of the chairs at the train station, where he remained until we left him there at 6:20am after refusing to get on the first train home.

Although these nights out have not been the best of my life, I did meet a few people who will stay in my mind for awhile. But the most important lesson learned is, it's not the bar or the city you're in, but the people that you're with. You'd think I'd have figured that out after two years in Drum!

Thursday, July 21, 2011

Yasuko-san

Last Sunday I went on a wee roadtrip with a co-worker to the city of Hiroshima. For over 60 years now, the name of the cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki have been synonymous with the world's first and hopefully only atomic bombs. Although I have lived in Hikari for almost six months, and Hiroshima is less than two hours away by train, this was the first time I had been. We took the highway and arrived in just over an hour. We headed first to the Peace Park where we were greeted by the A-bomb dome as soon as we got off the streetcar. Standing in the middle of such a vibrant, bustling city, this hollowed out building is a stark reminder of the tragedy that took place. The building was once Industrial Promotion Hall until the bomb was dropped nearly directly above it, the reason why the majority of the building has remained standing. In 1996, after much controversy as to whether it should remain standing or be torn down, it was declared an UNESCO World Heritage Site. We walked further along into the Peace Park, where there is something called the Flame of Peace, which will be extinguished when the last nuclear weapon earth is destroyed. We also took in the Atomic Bomb Museum. Every year on August 6 (August 9 in Nagasaki), demonstrations and memorials are held in the Peace Parks in both Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

In May, I had the opportunity to also visit the Peace Park and museums in Nagasaki. The Peace Park is much more beautiful in Nagasaki, especially because the rotodendrons were in full bloom when I was there (even though at the time of the bombing it was predicted there would be no vegetation for at least 75 years). It had rained the day before and because Nagasaki is very hilly the Peace Park can see over the whole city, to where the mountains were covered in thick fog, giving the whole scene the sort of stereotypical feel we get from movies set in Japan. To me, Nagasaki has a different feel to it than Hiroshima. All over the city in random places are huge posters all listing the statistics of the outcome of what happened on that fateful day. While I think they should definietly not forget what happened, if I lived there and especially if I was a survivor, I would not want to look at these everyday. What stands out the most for me from visiting Nagasaki is watching an interview with the man who dropped Fat Boy on Nagasaki. Years later when he was asked if he regretted what he had done, his answer was a surprising no. I understand that if you are fighting for your country in a war, you do what you're told. But years later, to feel no guilt or regret over killing and injuring so many thousands of people is unimaginable. I think it's important for visitors of Japan to visit at least one of these two cities.

But what stands out more in my mind and will stand out in my mind for the rest of my life is a class I had a few weeks ago with my oldest student. Yasuko-san is 78 years old and has been my student for the past five months. The first time I met her she told me she had grown up in Hiroshima and I was interested in asking her if she had been there during the war, but obviously that is not a subject to bring up. She has been learning English at Eiko School since it opened 19 years ago but she's a very quiet, reserved woman. In a way, she remind me of a Japanese version of my grandmother, in the way she carries herself and speaks. Over the past few months as I've gotten to know her, I've learned bits of her life, such as how she has never driven a car and she's married to a man that she had only met twice before their wedding day. She's very active, and often goes to visit her remaining siblings in Hiroshima and goes to traditional Japanese dance classes and spa days with her friends in nearby Tokuyama. She is also a huge fan of Exile (a J-pop group very popular with teenagers) and dyes her hair a funky dark purple-auburn colour. She is, in every definition of the term, young at heart, and I can't help but wonder if it's because she feels she was spared and given a second chance at life on that day in August 66 years ago.

We were having our regular class and started it off with doing two pages in our Oxford Picture Dictionary. As I was rushed in preparation time, I hadn't had time to look the pages over, and if I had, I probably would have changed the lesson plan. The topic of the day was a timeline of American history. We read through it and were soon at the end of World War II. As we usually do, I would read it and she would repeat after me. There was no going back, I had to read it, I couldn't skip over it. "August 6, 1945, the world's first atomic bomb is dropped on the city of Hiroshima." The classroom was quiet for a moment and she looked up at me with tears in her eyes, "I know, I was there, I saw the mushroom cloud." I didn't know what to say...what do you reply to that? We talked about it for a few minutes and she told me she was 12 years old at the time and when I asked her if they knew what was happening, she replied with a simple, "Yes, we knew." Thankfully, she had stayed home from school on the day it happened to help tear down houses in order to clear the streets for people to run as they were expecting a fire bomb to be dropped. When it was dropped, there was a large gust of wind that knocked her down. She lost several classmates and a younger sister who were in the downtown area when it happened. The days following the bomb were surreal. The city centre was destroyed, apocalyptic, as though nothing had ever existed. What is now known as the A-bomb dome stood alone amidst a terrain of devastation. There were people lying everywhere, some unrecognizable from the burns. The victims who were alive did not last long, from far she saw someone running towards her in rags and when the woman came closer, she realized she was naked and her skin was hanging off her in strips. Unfortunately, the overwhelming majority of medical personnel in the city had also been in the downtown area and had not survived the blast. I did not ask her any questions as I did not want to pry, I just let her say what she wanted to say. She only talked a minute or two at the most but by the end I was in tears. She finished by telling me this is the reason she wanted to learn English.

That two minute conversation will be with me for the rest of my life. Nobody deserves to have to witness such atrocities. But I do know this: Yasuko-san is truly one of the most inspirational people I have ever met.

Monday, May 23, 2011

Golden Week 2011




Considering I've not written in about six weeks, I figure its probably time for an update. It's nearly the end of May and if I don't write now I won't be reaching my goal of one blog a month!

The first week of May was Golden Week all across Japan, and as a result, I had 9 days of holi-holidays, woooo!!! Golden week is a week of public holidays strung together, so that the good Japanese citizens don't get only a long weekend but a whole week off! Originally April 29 was the Emperor's birthday (until that Emperor died in 1989, now the Emperor's birthday is December 23). But they decided to keep the holiday anyway (how nice of them) and it's now called Shōwa Day, to honour Emperor Shōwa. May 3 is Constitution Memorial Day and celebrates the promulgation of the 1947 Constitution of Japan, whatever that means. Since 2007, May 4 has been known as Greenery Day and is a day to 'commune with nature and be thankful for blessings'. The last day of Golden Week is May 5, known as Children's Day, or also Boy's Day (Girl's Day is in March I believe). Children's Day is a day set aside to 'respect children's personalities and to celebrate their happiness'. Thank you to Wikipedia for explaining it to me, for every Japanese person I ask the meaning for a festival or holiday I simply get a blank stare and 'I don't know'...I suppose it's the same as me explaining that since 2007, Saskatchewan has a holiday in February called 'Family Day', simply because the government felt we need a long weekend in every month of the year and February didn't have one. What a strong work ethic we have, needing a long weekend every month.

Right, back to Golden Week. Well, well, what to do on my first grown up holiday from work? Up to this point, my life has been one big holiday, and I must say, after having these nine days off doing what I do best (travelling, in case you didn't know) it was difficult to go back to the bump and grind in the monkey suit. That sounds much kinkier and like much more fun than it actually is.

April 29: Work day. Surprise, surprise considering I work at an Eikaiwa! We went into the mountains and made pizza with the kids, played hide and go seek with the little bastards, pushed them on swings, made baumkuchen around bamboo, and bamboo propeller crafts. Of course we couldn't get away with not doing any real work for the day so we had to go back to the classroom and teach one class each before officially being on holidays.

April 30: Captain K was meant to pick Igor and I up at 8:30am. ughghghghgh it's my first day of holidays, I'm not even up this early for work! The Captain was of course late and came at about 9am. Roadtrip time! I love roadtrips! We made our way down the road to the tollway while rocking out to Igor. We drove down towards Hofu, Shimonoseki, and left Honshu island for Kyushu. Soon we were in Fukuoka City where we stopped for lunch of egg salad sandwiches Icourtesy of moi and rice balls courtesy of Kazushige. Igor supplied nothing. We had lunch at a Shinto Shrine so that Captain K could do his annual praying so that things continue to go well. "Are they going well at Eiko School?" I ask him. "No, not really," he replies. "Then perhaps you should ask for a new job for both of us." We even had entertainment in the form of a performing pet monkey and a man doing traditional Japanese entertainment with fans, etc. Back on the road towards Nagasaki city. It should have taken about four hours to get there from Hikari but we got there about 530pm in torrential rain due to Kazu's slow driving in the pink beast. Oh well, more time for entertaining conversations about tabloids, love hotels, and for me to be asked why women say they love a man when they really don't. I don't know, why do men say it??? Oh Kazu, no wonder you're 39 and still single!!! I get to my hostel and decide to stay in for the night as it's still raining and getting dark. Meet a fellow who thinks everyone from New Zealand are child abusers and pedophiles. He is on his way to Seoul to find a girl he once took an English class with and fell in love with and wants to ask her to marry him. No word of a lie, not even a date, but marriage. Good luck buddy!

May 1: My only full day in Nagasaki so I must make the most of it and am up early. I head over to the epicentre of where the world's second atomic bomb named Fat Man was dropped August 9, 1945 at 11:03am. There's alot to see in the general area, including a Peace Park, Peace Hall, and Atomic Bomb Museum. The whole area is a very sobering reminder of what happened that day. After seeing the pictures of charred corpses and reading the stories of how people's flesh came off in strips and keloid scars developed, it is my personal opinion that anyone who thinks the A-bombs were justified is a complete monster. The area where the atomic bomb was dropped was said at the time to probably be void of vegetation for at least 75 years but the vegetation was lush and the rotadendrons in full bloom. Afterwards I hopped back on the tram to head to Glover Gardens which are the original gardens and home of Thomas Glover. Glover, the 'Scottish Samurai' was a merchant during the Bakumatsu and Meiji period and was from Aberdeenshire, Scotland. The gardens have a moving walkway up the hill which is something I thought I would only see in cheeseburger land (ie. America). There was a lovely view of the city and harbour, but definetely not worth 600 yen.

May 2: Time to figure out how I'm heading to Fukuoka today. Luckily the owner of the hostel is a lovely traveller himself and books a highway bus for me which is much cheaper than the Shinkansen I was planning on taking and only takes 30 minutes longer! He is even kind enough to walk me to the bus station. I have a few last hours to kill before leaving Nagasaki and take a wander around the shopping in the train station and then down to the harbour to have my bento for lunch. I arrive in Fukuoka city at about 3:30pm and make my way to the hostel. After checking in I wander back to the train/bus station. It is brand new and just opened in March, as well as the Hakata Hankyu Department Store attached to it, and all my adult students kept telling me I must check it out, so I spend the remainder of the day window shopping.

May 3: The first day of Hakata Dontaku, the whole reason I came to Fukuoka! Hakata Dontaku is a very famous Japanese festival and one of the biggest, attracting over 2 million people who are on Golden Week holidays around Japan. When my Japanese co-workers told me I should check it out I asked them what it represents/the origins, etc. No one again could answer me except to say that its very noisy as everyone is hitting wooden rice spoons together. Whaaaaaaat??!! It seems no Japanese person actually knows their reasons for a holiday or festival, it's just an excuse to party, much like the thinking of a teenager. Time to check out Wikipedia, who this time wasn't much help at all:

"Hakata Dontaku (博多どんたく) is held in Fukuoka City on May 3 and 4. Boasting over 800 years of history, Dontaku is attended by more than 2 million people, making it the Japanese festival with the highest attendance during Japan's Golden Week holidays. During the festival, stages are erected throughout downtown for traditional performances and a parade of floats is held. The full name is Hakata Dontaku Minato Matsuri.[17]

The festival was stopped for seven years during the Meiji era, and since it was restarted in the 12th year of the Meiji era it has been known as Hakata Dontaku."


Even my trusty Lonely Planet was no help either. So the morning of May 3 I rushed over to Tenjin in Fukuoka to check out the Apple Store seeing as my computer was still down at this point. Fell in love with the Macbook Airs and Ipod Touch and walked away feeling poor even though I spent no money. Took the subway and got to Meiji Dori just as the parade was beginning. It went on for over four hours and I eventually grew tired of it and wandered around looking at the various dancing and singing stages and sampled plenty of yakitori from food stalls, all the while hoping I wouldn't eat something fishy and die. Did some shopping and got some English books, Japanese text books, and pretty Sakura dessert bowls before heading back to the hostel.

May 4: Went out exploring Fukuoka today with a fellow English teacher I met in my hostel room who is here with JET, lucky bastard! He can also speak Japanese well, which makes me jealous and motivated me to start studying more. We first went to Tocho-ji, where there is the largest carved wooden Buddha in Japan. Very impressive, but unfortunately weren't allowed to take pictures. Then headed over to the ruins of Fukuoka castle, which were exactly that, ruins. Not ruins like Urquhart Castle on Loch Ness where there's something to climb on and into, but just little piles of stone. Did manage to get some great views of the city however. Headed back to Meiji Dori as the parade was meant to be on again and my new friend hadn't seen it yet. It never did begin, not sure why, but it was an excuse to have some more yakitori, yakisoba, and okinomiyaki, yum! Said friend then headed on his train to Hiroshima and I headed in the direction of Fukuoka Tower. Nearby the tower was a place called Robo Square which is a showcase of robots and was very cool. All of the staff spoke English, and one girl had even done a semester abroad at the University of Regina. :S




May 5: This morning I walked to Sumiyoshi Shrine and Rakusuien Gardens before heading back to the hostel as Captain K was supposed to pick me up to make the drive back to Shitari (my new name for Hikari). He ended up not coming until about 6pm, we stopped for dinner on the way and arrived back about 11pm. I was then informed I don't have to work until May 9. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE

All in all my Golden Week was great and I didn't want to come back. Travelling is what I do best, not holding down a steady job. Bets on who thinks I can last my one year contract?

Monday, April 25, 2011

Easter

As another non-eventful Easter has come and gone, I'm reminded of Easters past. Easter as a child was always filled with good, but chaotic memories. Good Friday always consisted of colouring the Easter eggs with food colouring and then attending mass for hours on end, while our purple and blue dyed hands looked as though we had just had a dance with death. Loving to cook and bake, my mother always had different, interesting things on the table. Every year she made a bunny cake, which I would happily draw the ears for. She even made a braided Easter bread basket one year; it was amazing. And then there were the freshly baked home made hot cross buns. In grade five we made Ukranian easter eggs with Ms. Greschner which are still sitting in the China cabinet at my father's. It was also usually the one time every year I would see 'Anna' (my mother's mother).

In high school, my aunt gave me a beautiful hand made wool sweater from somewhere in South America, that had shrunk when she washed it. It's the most beautiful combination of deep teals, fushias and navy blues. It's incredibly warm and itchy, but I've always called it my 'Easter sweater' due to the gorgeous colours and because it is perfect for a Canadian winter, in which there is usually still some snow on the ground.

I don't think I've spent an Easter at home since my last year of high school. In university, Easter always fell right when I was busy studying for final exams. I do remember one year however, when my parents drove to the city for the day to bring my brother and I some much needed home made sustenance and had to leave early due to a bad snow storm.

I've spent four Easter's out of Canada, the first being when I was 21 in Australia. I don't remember too much, except that I was at my boyfriend's house with his younger brother and sister and that it involved staying up very late with a bottle of Canadian Club rye whiskey and a bong shaped like Yoda's head.

When I was 25 I spent Easter in Belfast, Northern Ireland. I had just arrived and found a job at Arnie's Backpacker's and it was my first Easter after my mother had passed away the previous fall. I honestly don't remember alot of this Easter, but I'm sure it involved alot of drinks.

At 26, I spent Easter in Brighton. This Easter is surely the most memorable so far. I had to work at the pasty shop that day and was greeted with a smile by my Polish co-worker. He loved to cook and had brought me a Polish home made soup which his mother always made for Easter. I can't remember what it was called but i remember it had hard boiled eggs floating in it, and was salty and very tasty. I wish I could have returned the favour but the flat I was staying in had no kitchen in which I could cook. I'll save that story for a whole other blog. The day went by ridiculously slow as the shopping mall our shop was directly outside of was closed for the holiday and save for a few hungry window washers, we had no customers. I arrived home with my gifts of chocolate (from the poundshop) for my flatmates and a bottle of some cheap alcohol. It was about 5pm but the alcoholic was already passed out on the couch, beer can in one hand, burnt down cigarette in the other, the new Dr. Who blaring on the TV at a deafening volume. I joined the other flatmate in his room for a night of drinking and horror flicks.

This year, it did not feel like Easter at all. In the week leading up to it, I coloured Easter eggs with all the students. I was invited to go up to the Iwakuni castle (hiking, not by cable car) and politely declined, as hiking up a mountain in 30 degree weather and 65% humidity with an irritating, know-it-all, arrogant American and his racist , homophobic sidekick is not my idea of a good time.

Who knows where I'll be next Easter, who I'll be with, or what I'll be doing. Perhaps somewhere in South America where everyone goes all out with celebrations. Or perhaps still in Japan where it's just another day for most of the population. All I know is, none will ever compare to the memories I have of Easter as a child.

Friday, April 8, 2011

Travel Writing Competition Entry (insert title here)

My travel writing competition potential entry, it must be 500 words or less. Please let me know what you think, any comments or suggestions are greatly appreciated, especially for a title!!! Link to the contest: http://pentales.com/private/page/RYV3/20001


Everyone views travel differently. Some hate it because they miss the comforts of home. Some take a holiday in the sun to relax. Others, like myself, view it as a lifestyle.

My career as a traveller began at 9, on a trip to the Rockie Mountains. I told my mother I wanted to live in every picturesque town we passed. One lake in particular stands out, "The Toothpaste Lake," named for its deep teal colour, like the Aquafresh toothpaste I was using. By the end of the trip, I was told "You know, you can't live everywhere."

Other family trips ensued and at 14 we went to Mexico. My first taste of a different culture. My mother, having travelled herself, ensured we explored the city's local markets, went to bullfights, and saw flamenco dancers. We went into mountain villages and saw children selling gum to help their family. It was a whole other world.

At 20, I went on a gap year to Australia. Although this was my first trip on my own, I was anything but homesick. Maybe it was the freedom from my past, the ability to reinvent myself. All I know is that even my first true love wasn't enough to make me stay, I was always yearning for more.

I returned back to Canada and would sometimes close my eyes and imagine I was on a plane. " Can't you just be happy with where you are?" asked my mother. Two years passed until I finished university. After being offered a job teaching in South Korea, I instead applied for a U.K. working holiday visa and spent two years in Europe. In Istanbul I was entranced by the prayer calls at dawn and dusk. In Scotland, I found a second home on the shores of Loch Ness. In Stuttgart, I danced on tables and swigged beer in a dirndl. I wanted to spend a lifetime in every country.

Travelling changes a person inside and out, knowingly or not. In Australia, I went from cowgirl to hippy, dreadlocks included. The depressing climate of Scotland made me a momentary goth and helped nurse the recent passing of my mother. And now, sitting on a train in rural Japan, I catch a glimpse of myself in the window reflection and see myself for who I am today: a professional English teacher. Travelling forces you to learn things about yourself you never knew, or things you never wanted to know, it pushes your boundaries.

I'm reminded what a strange and wonderful world this can be, as I watch the men in designer suits reading anime. The scenery rushes by, glimpses of pink clouds mark the arrival of Sakura. Spring is representative of new beginnings and it is celebrated in Japan like nowhere else in the world. This year, it is bound to be especially poignant in light of recent events. Like Japan, I am looking into the future. Where will I go next?

Sunday, March 27, 2011

Tōhoku Earthquake

Well, it's been awhile since my last post and almost three weeks now since the biggest earthquake in the recorded history of Japan. The dust has definetely not settled and the results of this horrific natural disaster will be evident for years to come, as many towns and villages must start over, and families try to rebuild their homes and lives, with many of their family missing.

Fortunately, as you all know by now, my new home here in the land of the rising sun is nowhere near Sendai, but the impact of what has happened still hit just as hard mentally and emotionally. Upon hearing the news, it was only an explanation as to why my mobile phone suddenly stopped working that Friday afternoon. I heard about it about two hours after, and went on to finish my day and teach the remaining three classes I had. It wasn't until the drive home at about 8:30pm, that we were able to see the footage on the TV in the car when we were stopped at red lights. The feeling of knowing this is happening so close to me is indescribable. We've all seen footage of earthquakes and hurricanes around the world, and everybody says the same thing 'Oh that's so terrible'. Growing up in the Canadian prairies, the worst I've ever had to endure is a bad snowstorm and -60C weather. When something like this happens, it sometimes takes awhile to sink in. It wasn't until I was home in my apartment, checking my facebook and e-mail that the reality of it set in. As my friends and family around the world awoke to a bright new day and heard of the news of what happened here while they were sound asleep safe in their beds, I began receiving more and more messages asking if I was OK. Upon turning on the TV, every single channel was covering the earthquake, resulting tsunami, and other issues caused by it, such as the nuclear power plant issues in Fukushima. In the corner of every screen was a map of Japan, with nearly all of the coastline flashing different colours, to show who had tsunami warnings and of what severity. My coast is an inland sea in Southwestern Japan and until Saturday evening, we even had warnings of small tsunamis. I didn't understand 98% of what was on the TV, which made it even worse.

The 9.0 quake happened March 11, 2011 at roughly 2:46 p.m. Lasting around 6 minutes, it was an incredibly long, and strong earthquake. So strong in fact, it was felt as far away as Beijing, China, and has permanently moved all of Honshu island roughly eight feet towards North America. The quake itself happened about 72 km from the coast, which triggered a tsunami as high as 77 feet, which reached up to 10km inland, sweeping away homes, buildings, schools, animals, vehicles, and people. It is impossible to imagine seeing it coming towards you and knowing there is nothing that can be done to escape it. Today, over two weeks later, the death toll is over 10,000, with over 16,000 still missing and nearly 3,000 injured. The number of people it has affected is over five times the population of my hometown. There are whole towns missing, wiped out forever. Japan is a country which has grown used to earthquakes, and they have been expecting 'the big one' for years. The infrastructure across the country is designed to survive earthquakes, but no amount of technology can ever be prepared for a disaster such as this. The people of Japan got a one minute warning, which may seem like nothing, but in fact managed to save many thousands, if not millions, of lives. The aftershocks are said to last a few months, and in the days following the quake, some aftershocks were rated 6-7; as strong as the quake in Christchurch less than one month prior that brought that city to its knees.

The weekend after the quake was filled mainly with watching my TV which sometimes reported in English, and trying to find out information online. Waking Saturday morning, I almost thought it had been a bad dream until I turned on the TV again. As my computer was sometimes not charging properly ( I don't know if this is due to the quake or not, it's been working fine since), there was an 8 hour span when I had no idea what was happening, and could not speak to anybody outside of Japan. At times I would burst into tears because I didn't know what to do, whether I should leave Japan right when I had got settled, or not. The paranoia in me made me fill my tub with water so that if there was a complete nuclear meltdown I would have an uncontaminated supply of water. I also went and bought another 5kg bag of rice and face masks. Thanks to my brother, I also researched KI pills and geiger counters when my computer was working, along with registering with the Canadian government to get regular updates, and researching flights. I have friends who were teaching up north and left for the south, but have returned in the past few days. The fact is the Japanese government is extremely conscience and aware of the Japanese people's safety, and this is their number one priority. This is not going to be another Chernobyl (even if it was rated as a 6), because this is not the Soviet Union. And if anything does happen, the winds of Japan are westerly prevailing, meaning the majority of radiation will be carried out to sea, far far away from me. At least, this is what the gaijins who remain keep telling themselves. 15% of energy in Canada is from nuclear power. We are fortunate that we can use other methods due to our natural resources. The fact is Japan has virtually no natural resources and a huge population in a small area, therefore nuclear power will continue to be used.

I appreciate everybody's concern and support in the weeks following the quake. At this point, it's all I'm bombarded with 24-7, everywhere I go, and it's the last thing I want to talk about. But let's remember what the real problem is and leave the nuclear power plant in the hands of the capable experts. The real issue is rebuilding these communities, rescuing injured animals, finding the bodies of missing people, and insuring the survivors have food, water, shelter, and medical attention. Remember, these aren't just faces on a TV screen on the other side of the world. These are people's parents, spouses, children, siblings, best friends, and grandparents. And they're now my neighbours. Any little bit you can spare will help. Communities all around the world are holding fundraisers. I know we all are busy with our modern lives, but if you can spare a few dollars, please do. If Kim Jong-il can find it in his heart, surely you can too. :)

On a lighter note: I think I bought incontinence pads rather than feminine pads.

Saturday, February 12, 2011

Praise the Lord!

Why do bible thumpers always find me??? It seems wherever I go in the world, the thump of the bible isn't far behind. I don't care what other people believe, I was raised Roman Catholic, but the scientist in me just cannot believe in religion. Considering I've been at this job not yet one week, and obviously don't yet have any friends in the area, I could not come up with an answer better than 'Sure' when asked if I wanted to come to the base for church. The only thing I honestly really heard was base, as in the American Marine Corps Air Station in Iwakuni, and it wasn't until after that I stopped and thought 'Wait a second, did I just agree to go to church??!!'. I was certain I would burst into flames the second I walked through the door. I think I've been to church once since my mother's funeral and that was over three years ago for Christmas. I'm not even one of those girls who go gaga over men in uniform, in fact the hippy in me (and there's a whole lot of hippy!) is anti anything pertaining to war and soldiers and would much rather knock one out, especially considering I've never met one who's not a complete twat, but that's for a whole other blog.

I really should have known the second my boss picked me up from the bus in Tokuyama and I saw some Christian bible quote in her van pinned to the glove box. And then on the awkward ride to Hikari, she suddenly asks if I am religious and tells me she's a Christian. I really should have gone running back to Tokyo right then and there. And then there was the school meeting, where I'm handed the principles of the school, and SURPRISE SURPRISE there's ten of them that all look strangely familiar to the ten commandments. Maybe I look like I need saving? Although I like to think I look quite ordinary now, given my piercings are out (at work), I hide my tattoos, and my hair is a natural (not to me however) colour. No black nail polish, I even wear colours now and my makeup is not so dark! So I don't think I look too much like the spawn of Satan, not like I may have in the past anyway.

But the lure of the base called to me. Forgive a girl for being curious after having been surrounded by Japanese meat for a month. Minus the awkwardness of the service, it turned out to be a good day. But boy was that hour awkward. It took everything in me not to burst out laughing every time the large Southern woman would yell 'Amen!' or 'Praise the Lord!' after everything the pastor said.

Honestly, it wasn't even the lure of maybe finding a hot American soldier, because really, the army fatigues and crew cuts and the horrible, arrogant, whiny, accent really do nothing for me. It was the promise of the food court after. Yes, I realize this is immature and how you get children to go to church, but hey, the thought of Burger King, Pizza Hut, Krispy Kreme, Baskin Robbins, Taco Bell, Subway, KFC, and bagels all under one roof, is enough to get me there once a month. Plus the Oreos, Chunks Ahoy and peanut butter at the church. AND ALL IN AMERICAN SIZED PORTIONS! AND Lipton Iced Tea! Unfortunately, these are the only things you can get unless you're living on the base. And you can't even get on base unless you're escorted by someone who lives on it. But there are American clothing shops (with American sizes), American supermarkets (with Eggos and Delissio pizza and tater tots! Or so I've heard...I wasn't even allowed in), and tax free American book stores. Now just to find someone who's willing to buy these things for me...

It wasn't until I was surrounded by all these familiar things, could understand everything written around me and being spoken around me (so much for living in my own little world), that I really realized how hard the last month has been to get around and how doing simple day to day things are such a challenge. We really do take what we have for granted. I could easily speak to the people around me (and didn't have to slow down), I didn't feel like a giant (in fact I'm considered average, if not skinny in American standards!), and I definitely did not feel like all eyes were on the gaijin (that's me btw). I could blend in and not worry if I was being rude, even if just for a few hours. Everyone should definitely at some point have to stay a few weeks in a country where you're not the norm, to understand what it's like when someone from another country is coming to Canada, the U.S., or the U.K., and then maybe the world would be a happier place. :)

If only I was near a Canadian base, I could get my Timmy's fix. So although I was hesitant, and would much rather have been introduced to Buddhism or Shinto, I did find somewhere which can be my respite once a month, my own little safe haven of North American culture and big greasy burgers. Amen!

Monday, January 31, 2011

Bigger is better?

As much as it pains me to say it, all of the touristy type things I've seen in Tokyo so far have not quite lived up to my expectations. Don't get me wrong, I still love the country. It may sound like an innuendo or cliche, but everything is just so SMALL and disappointing...maybe bigger is always better?

Let's start with portion sizes. Obviously, I realize North American portion sizes are ridiculously huge and likely a reason the majority of us (myself included!) are considered overweight. But we are genetically bigger people and therefore need more sustenance, no? When I pay the equivalent of roughly $11 Canadian dollars in a pub for a burger and beer with fries, I'm expecting to go home slightly buzzed and full for the night. But in Tokyo you get a tiny 1.5 ounce patty on a bun with some lettuce, half a bottle of beer, and a Japanese size handful of dried out fries. I guess that's why you should stick to the local food or make your own with goods from the 100 Yen shop!

Next disappointment: the Imperial Palace and its Gardens. First of all we got to the gardens at about 3:30 in the afternoon to be told it closes at 4:00...when does anything close at 4:00pm??? I thought this was the city that never sleeps! So we raced around the gardens trying to see as much of the dead grass and non-blooming flowers as we could. It is the dead of winter I suppose. After being kicked out, we continued to walk around the outskirts of the gardens for about 4 km., hoping to catch a glimpse of the Palace through the trees and walls. No such luck. What kind of Palace is only open to its people two days of the year (December 23, for the Emperor's birthday and for New Year)?? Buckingham Palace is smack dab in the middle of London for all the world to see whenever they want to.

Next: Tokyo Tower. OK, this doesn't really fit in with the whole theme of being small, because it is actually 9 metres taller than the Eiffel Tower, which is already pretty impressive. It wasn't even on the itinerary for the day, I just happened to glimpse an ugly version of the Eiffel Tower through some skyscrapers on the way to Ginza and it looked closer than it actually was. Problem here being, I've seen the Eiffel Tower in all its glory, and the Tokyo Tower is just an ugly, slightly-larger-but-I-can't-really-tell-anyways-pretty-much-exact-replica version. Plus its painted in ugly 'international orange' and white stripes and plunked down in a random place in Tokyo whereas the Eiffel Tower has lovely gardens and shit leading up to it.

Then was Harajuku. I know it was quite cold the Sunday I went, there were even a few flakes falling as I walked out of the Yebisu Beer Museum (also disappointing, so much that this is the only mention it's getting in fact), but surely there would be some hardcore Harajuku girls out? We did manage to see a few, even got a picture of some Little Bo Peep types in a store, as well as the full Power Rangers clan and a creepy man dressed head to toe in Hello Kitty gear. I will definitely be back on Takeshita Dori the next time I'm in Tokyo, for the shopping and some more people watching. But alas, it was also disappointing. The only good thing about it was I found a piercing store and managed to find a ball to fit my lip stud I lost a few weeks back (see previous blog for full explanation).

I can't really say all of Tokyo is disappointing, it's often like that anywhere you go that's been hyped up for years. Nothing ever lives up to our expectations in this day and age. But if everyone's first impressions of Tokyo are similar to these, is it really any wonder Japanese men get such a bad rap in the size department? Stay tuned...;)

Monday, January 24, 2011

Wakarimasen!

So I've been talking about starting a travel blog for this upcoming (and now nearly two months in) trip, and recently a certain someone has been bugging me about it to no end. So today after yet another job interview, I've decided to begin, rather than staring at my computer watching Shameless episodes download and eating unrecognizable and definitely mispronounced Japanese food.

I've been here in Tokyo nearly two weeks now 'looking for a job' and have since settled in quite nicely, although the first few days were definitely not so easy. I have never experienced culture shock like I did upon arrival in Tokyo, and I have never thought when walking through the streets of any city 'What the hell am I doing here??!!' It most likely had something to do with discovering on the first full day here that the Japanese Association for Working Holiday Makers went bankrupt back in AUGUST. Thanks SWAP, for informing me that the one saving grace I was counting on upon arrival would not be assisting me in learning Japanese, opening a bank account, getting a phone, finding a job, applying for an Alien Registration card, finding a place to live, and basically just functioning. Why did I pay them $500 again???

But that's beside the point. The next day I checked out of my stiflingly hot, $50 a night, 6 bed dorm to something a bit cheaper, and much colder. I had e-mailed this hostel back in December while in Scotland and out of the maybe 5 I managed to e-mail in between pints, this is the only one that replied. So I asked the girl at reception if the manager was around and mentioned that I had been told I could do some cleaning in exchange for a bed. She said she remembered and would call her boss to see if there was any work at the restaurant. Wtf?? So I of course just smiled and said 'OK'. 20 minutes later a little Chinese man walks in reception smiling. And speaking Chinese. We sit down at a table and he conducts his 'interview' with Shi (reception girl) as the interpreter. After determining I speak no Japanese, was wanting to clean at the hostel, and am here looking for a job teaching English, she (and Shi) says 'Do you have any plans tonight?'

'Well no,' I say, 'Its only Saturday night in downtown Tokyo town.'

So I end up going on a silent 20 minute subway ride with my new boss (who's name I don't know) to one of his many Chinese restaurants (which I also don't know the name of). I walk in with him and surprise surprise! Nobody speaks English. This just keeps getting better and better. But hey, a true backpacker will do just about anything for a free place to stay, a Tokyo metro pass, a free meal a day, and a few yen in her pocket.

From what I had gathered back at the hostel there was a tour group of about 70 Chinese men coming through for a meal, so they could use my help serving. This would be easy enough. Just walk out with the plates and set them down on the turny thing in the middle of the table and walk away. I've never been a waitress because I know I'm a clutz and prone to spilling things, but I'm sure I can do this.

I'm supposed to be there four hours and the first hour consists of me basically standing around in my own world, smiling and laughing when it seems appropriate, and wondering where the EHO's are with these cooks and their cigarettes hanging out of their mouths. Maybe I'll say I don't want the free food after all because I'm vegetarian.

And then suddenly there's a storm of Chinese men, swarming around, through the kitchen, filling the restaurant with even more smoke and mindless (to me) chatter. And then there's bowls and plates being thrust into my hands and motioning me to take them out. 'Well this isn't so bad now is it? I can do this!' I think to myself, 'It's a bit lonely but on Monday the boy from Mexico will be in and he speaks English!'

Wait a second, where's the ball from my lip stud?? Oh shit...I glance around the room to see if anyone has found it in their plate of Kung Pao chicken, or whatever it is I'm serving. But I'm interrupted by more rapid hand gestures, I suppose indicating to me to get a move on.

I rush back to the kitchen and grab two huge, full, heavy bowls of some sort of soup. Maybe I'm pro enough now to handles three, with one resting on my arm? No, it's probably a bit early for that. I hurry back to the tables and reach over a little Chinese man to set one of the bowls on his table. What's that sound? It sounds like screaming, but why? Where is it coming from? It sounds so close...oh wait, it's coming from right beside me. Below me in fact. The little Chinese man. I look down and see it is him screaming. Because I am spilling the other giant bowl of soup on him as I'm setting the other one down. The two tour leaders are already there wiping it off him and chattering away. Do they ever stop their mindless chatter??? But this time it's aimed at me. I try and remember how to say sorry in Japanese but it doesn't really matter considering they're Chinese.

I literally run back into the kitchen, hoping they'll send me home or at least let me do dishes, but no, they thrust more plates and bowls at me. I walk back out into the restaurant, and can feel all 140 eyes burning holes into me as they glare at the giant who tried to drown the little old man.

Finally they all get up and leave and we can start cleaning up and once its all done (an hour early...is that just lucky or do they just want me gone?)I get to go on another awkward 20 minute metro journey back to the hostel.

"Boss says you did very good. You can have tomorrow off and meet him in reception at 9:30am Monday morning and he will get you a metro pass and take you to the restaurant with Jorge."

OK, well maybe it wasn't as bad as I thought. Maybe all new servers lose facial jewelry and give third degree burns to a grandpa on their first day.

Or maybe not.

Monday morning rolls around and I'm told I can just clean at the hostel until I learn a bit more Japanese.

Welcome to Tokyo.

Wakarimasen, I just don't understand.