Saying Sayonara

I find that sayonaras are difficult in Japan, and I’m not talking about the etiquette of bowing or the tongue-twisting nature of polite Japanese. The sayonaras I have seen have always been rather formal, especially ceremonies like graduation where even the tears appear to be on cue. Formalizing the sayonara process has its benefits: there’s no room for gaffes or awkward displays of affection and such a ceremony can be impromptu if needed because everyone knows how it should go.

Such an impromptu ceremony was held for a part-time teacher who left shortly after winter break. She had been at my junior high school for two years, filling in for a teacher who was taking care of her dying father. The father passed away and the day after the funeral the part-time teacher was out, farewell ceremony and all, and the next day the grieving daughter was back at work. The transition was seamless. And utterly jarring. It felt strange and even a little wrong that death can be so meticulously organized and seem so natural.

The third years need a PE teacher but it seemed of little matter who the PE teacher was from one day to the next. In itself this experience is noteworthy given its stark contrasts to similar transitions of personnel back home. But as a JET who’s not re-contracting, seeing this transition made my heart drop a little. In the hierarchy of teachers, I am the most forgettable, my role the most ornamental. How much less fanfare am I to expect in my transition out?

My time in Japan was been amazing and amazingly frustrating, invigorating and exhausting. Certainly impacting. And as my time draws quickly to an end I am a bit disturbed to think how little my leaving will be noticed. I have fostered relationships that are bound to last well after I say my last sayonara but just as many or more that surely will not.

For my own sanity I thought I’d compose a list of my sayonaras, things I will miss and ones I will not. Of moments great and small. I will create my own fanfare, damnit! But mostly because I know these last weeks will be rushed and it’s not just Japan’s fault that my good-byes may be incomplete.

So without further pontification, I say sayonara:

to the Docomo man who would not sell me a phone charger without calling my supervisor beforehand to make sure I knew what I was doing. I will NOT miss you.

to the Dalmatian next door whose constant barking I rarely notice these days and who has replaced his policy of growling with one of tail-wagging. I will miss you.

to school lunch, with your fish heads, unidentifiable vegetables and obscene proportions. I will NOT miss you (though I will miss curry and pumpkin doughnut days).

to playing cricket in winter on the bank of a river. I will miss you, Australia Day Cricket!

to the Kyoto-Sensei at my junior high school who cleans the staffroom with me and laughs with his shoulders. I will miss you.

to face masks during cold/flu season. I will NOT miss you. You are ridiculous.

to speaking tests when students exhibit moon-walking skills, tell Japanese folk tales in English, and ask about my love life. I will miss you and the opportunity you always provide for laughter.

to simultaneous road construction on all the roads leading to my house. I will NOT miss you.

to maps from road construction crews delivered to all the mailboxes in the neighborhood, displaying alternate routes and asking for our patience during construction. I will miss you.

to extremely helpful and enthusiastic sales people. I will miss you!

to the teeth-sucking textbook salesman that visits school three or four times a month. I will NOT miss you. You seem good at your job but, for the love, you are obnoxious!

to my granny bicycle with its glorious front basket and cheery bell. I will miss you.

to riding to and from school in pouring rain. I will NOT miss you and your day-ruining properties.

to my kotatsu. I will miss you more than words can say.

to my unheated shower room in the winter. I will NOT miss you.

to the yakitori stand couple who ask me about my country and always remember I prefer salt to sauce. I will miss you and your husky irrashaimase.

to Mt. Misen in Miyajima. I will NOT miss your fiasco-causing capabilities.

to Mt. Misen in Miyajima. I will miss your monkeys and the view from the ropeway.

to Kobe, with your Chinatown and Harborland attractions and glorious night view from Mt. Rokko and general grooviness. You rock and I will miss you.

to the rugby, soccer, and baseball fans I’ve seen at games. I will miss your impressively coordinated and dedicated cheering sections.

to crutching around a school without ramps let alone elevators. I will NOT miss you.

to Sanfrecce Hiroshima FC. You changed my mind about soccer. I will miss you.

to being packed like sardines on the second-to-last train home. I will NOT miss you.

to the amazingly efficient and user-friendly public transportation. In two years, I can recall only three times that my train was so late that it was inconvenient. I will miss you!

to the Shinkansen. I will miss you!

to paying 6 sen ($60) for a Shinkansen ticket from Osaka and standing the whole way back. I will NOT miss you.

to getting a hearty “Good morning!” from the PE teacher who’s English skills more or less start and end with that greeting. I will miss you.

to delicious restaurants and friendly staff: Manao (Thai) in Hiroshima and Pizza King in Wake. Oh how I will miss you!

to vacations to Arima Onsen, Kyoto and Nara, Nagasaki, and the Philippines. I will miss you.

to the confusion and awkwardness of taking leave to go on vacation. I will NOT miss you at all.

to Henry, the mangy stray that lives in the stairwell of Stephen’s place that we give food to. I will miss you. Take care of yourself old girl!

to my drafty and impossible to heat/cool house that is prone to dust bunnies the size of my head. I will NOT miss you.

to the first place that lived in by myself; you’ve kept me safe as I cried and never complained when I cursed you and you’ve kept me alert by having lots of creaks in the night and you’ve kept me busy by not cleaning yourself up and you’ve been great to my company since you’re so roomy. I may actually miss you in the end.

to Okamoto Sensei who is the perfect teacher, encouraging participation and excitement by her own insatiable enthusiasm. I will miss you.

to another Sensei who told me my hair isn’t blonde because blonde hair is more brilliant than mine and who looks disapprovingly at me anytime I don’t finish my lunch. I can’t express how much I will NOT miss you, at all. I may throw a party.

to the students that break teachers’ fingers and noses and classroom windows and the ones that say mean things to me in Japanese that they think I can’t understand and the ones that deliberately move far away from me when I am seated next to them at lunch. I will not miss you, mostly because I wish I could have done more to reach you.

to the students that smile brightly as they greet me in the morning and the ones who tell sex jokes and the ones who draw me pictures and the ones who tell me they miss me and the ones that dare to ask questions and the ones that talk to me outside of class. I will miss you!

SANYONARA!

All the things I will miss I might forget and the things I will not miss I may remember forever. Either way, how wonderful and sugoi (great/terrible depending on context) it is to have lived and taught in Oku, Okayama for two years.

Let's PURIKURA

What started as just curiosity has now become a new obsession. Almost a hobby. I've gotten purikura in almost every city I've visited. This is purikura:

Purikura is the Japanese version of photo booths. You slip coins into a slot, and several small photos are taken. Usually friends and lovers take them together. And that's where the similarities end.

In purikura you have a choice of several different booths, sometimes over twenty. They're often in multistory arcades but just as often they are attractions in and of themselves. They are most popular with young crowds but even college graduates will get some purikura with their friends to celebrate the occasion.

Once you insert the coins the madness begins, and quickly. You need to select how you want to be tinted and if you want your eyes to be colored/sparkled. Then you decide which 4-6 backgrounds you want out of about 100. Some are just plain colors or patterns but others have cute images like on my example of purikura.

Once you decide how you're gonna pose (before each shot you're shown models posing in your selected background in case you can't come up with anything on the spot) and the photos are taken it's only half over.

Then you go to a smaller, adjacent booth with two chairs and a screen with two "pens" attached. Now you go about decorating your tiny photos. There's tons of hearts and stars, cutesy sayings in Japanese and English (the one above is, "Suki, suki, daisuki: Like, like, love"), date stamps, pen color choices for writing your own message, and hoards of cute images like puppies and cakes and smileys.

It's incredibly overwhelming at first but the more you go to the purikura dens the more you're used to what they offer and pretty soon you're purikura-ing just like a giddy group of high school girls.

Purikura is probably not a legitimate hobby nor is it probably what the JET Programme has in mind when it recommends getting involved in cultural activities. But it is fun, really, really fun. And, as if it couldn't get better, you can peel off the backing and your purikura becomes a sticker!

Little Spoken But Much Shared

I am the only adviser for Pen-Pal Club at my junior high school. This is unusual since I'm not a real teacher after all. My supervisor left at the end of summer break to take care of her sick mother. We were advisers together.

Now it's just me.

I actually wasn't anticipating Pen-Pal Club to continue. Both us and Computer Club have shockingly small numbers for being part of a junior high school of about 500 students. While most clubs (sports, music, student council, art) have a few dozen at least. Badminton Club is bursting with almost 100 kids. Both Computer and Pen-Pal Club Club have about five members each, on a good day. Consistently we had four members, three girls and one boy. The girls split their time between Tea Ceremony, ikebana (flower arrangement), and Drama Club and could only attend a couple times a month. We meet on Thursdays.

Morikage is the family name of the only boy member of Pen-Pal Club. The teachers call him Morikage-kun (an ending that either implies the person is young or close to you). So do I.

Morikage-kun is a member of Judo Club as well. He doesn't particularly like judo. But his mom wants him to be active and so judo is his compromise so that he can come on Thursdays and spend an hour after school writing emails in English to people across the world.

Since my supervisor left I assumed the kids would call Pen-Pal club quits. At least until we got another adviser. None of the girls have come since before summer break. But every week I got to Pen-Pal Club because every week Morikage-kun comes to staffroom and asks for Claire Sensei.

In Japan, if one student wants to participate in a club it's enough of a reason for the club to exist.

Morikage-kun is a shy first year student. He doesn't know much English and isn't a very dedicated student during English lesson. I usually spot him drawing very impressive scenes from his favorite anime on his desk. I never tell him to stop because they're really good drawings. And because I like him.

So we don't talk much. I ask how he is in Japanese. He smiles and says fine. He helps me unlock the door and disable the security system in the computer lab. He always stands next to me as I enable it again after Pen-Pal Club is finished. The directions are in Japanese and his careful attention has helped things to not go terribly awry.

I can't give him much feedback and since he's shy he doesn't ask for what little I can give. But he comes every week. And as we part company half-way down the hallway, he smiles brightly and says, "Good-bye. Thank you."

We don't speak much, but we've shared a lot these last couple of months.

Summer is Over...?

Despite having a full six weeks without classes from mid-July until the end of August, I seem to have lost any ability to engage in anything terribly productive. To be fair, I have started running (in preparation to run the Chicago Marathon in 2010 with my college roommate) and chronicling the experience. But even so, that only accounts for a handful of hours. The rest have simply fallen through my fingertips and I find myself in the midst of school in full-swing feeling like I'm barely keeping up.

So I thought a brief recap of my natsuyasumi (summer vacation) was in order. Hopefully it'll help justify my two month absence but I doubt it. This came to mind today at school as I thought to myself, "How is it still this hot?!" These past couple weeks we've been pushing 30 degrees Celsius. But it's not the heat that's wearing me down (it's almost October!); it's the humidity. This is what I'm living in: after school I went to the 100 yen shop (equivalent to the dollar store in the States). I picked up a few things including a box of chips. I ate half the chips before dinner (oops) and then finished the rest off a few hours later. In the interim 3 hours between opening the package and then finishing them off, my chips went stale. It's that humid.

So, although the calendar and my school schedule seems to point to summer being over, Mother Nature isn't convinced.

The summer began with farewells and welcomes, as August is the changeover for JETs. It was a mix of sadness and excitement since I had to say goodbye to some very good friends but also have had the chance to meet some new and very amazing new JETs. There's an oddly strong and yet somewhat distant bond between us ALTs.

We are throw out of our comfort zone so completely, all our vulnerability left hanging out as we struggle to understand the world we've landed in and our place in it. This kind of vulnerability creates very deep bonds between people. And yet there is a temporary feeling to our time, our lives here. Japan, for most of us, is just s stop along the way and in a couple years time we'll be back in our home countries. This creates that distance between us.

At the beginning of last year I met all the English teachers I'd be assisting in the classroom. One teacher in particular I could tell I'd get along well with. But I also remember telling a friend that I'd probably become friends with her just in time to leave Japan since life in school is so structured and there's no real time for forming friendships. She's also one of the kendo coaches. So anytime not spent int he classroom is spent in practice with the kendo club.

However. This summer the students were busy with a volunteering activity one Saturday and so there was no kendo practice. My teacher invited me to her house (she lives with her parents) to eat lunch and try on yukata (the summer kimono). Her parents were lovely; her mom made a delicious lunch and her dad was the official photographer. I was able to practice my Japanese since both her parents had only a little English-speaking ability.

I accidentally mixed up the words for brother and father and told her mom that my brother is over fifty (she paused for a moment and then with a quick laugh emphasized the words more clearly so that I could correct myself). Just to be honest, they're about as similar in Japanese as they are in English.

I spent two weeks back home, seeing both sets of grandparents, catching a Cubs game, and visiting a couple dear friends from college. A break well worth the long flights.

Then it was back to Okayama to prepare presentations for the new JETs' orientation week. It was nice to have something to do at school for a change. During natsuyasumi we don't have classes but school, for all intents and purposes, is still in session. Teachers and students come into school to participate in club meetings and sports practices. They prepare for Sports Day. And the rest I haven't quite worked out. And yet we all come in and look busy.

I read books, checked email, visited the school library, went home for lunch (doing some chores in the meantime) and chatted with teachers. I had weekly Japanese/English conversations with one of the English teachers who wants to practice her English. We'd come up with a topic and then she'd talk to me in English and I'd ask her questions and then it'd be my turn and I'd talk in Japanese, struggling to be understood and all-around kind of failing at the language. It was great practice. In Japanese and humility.

And the it was time for summer to owari (end) and get back to teaching. My days at Oku JHS have been much busier. My supervisor has taken a leave of absence to take care of her sick mother so I am filling in as much as I can for her classes with the other English teacher who now has to teach classes of 40 instead of 20.

There's a time for everything and though summer can be a bit boring at school, it is a nice break from the hectic school schedule. I wasn't able to appreciate the break as much last year since I had just arrived and the informality of natsuyasumi confused me. It still does but I try to just go with it these days. When in Rome.

Give it about another month and my posts will be absorbed with descriptions of how terribly cold it is. For now, though, chips last less than three hours if left out of their packaging.

Hearth and Home in Rural Japan

The rainy season has lifted and with it so has the occasional cool that torrential downpours brings. Now, it`s just hot.

mushi atsui means humid & hot in Japanese. When asked if Chicago is as hot as Japan I usually respond it is but that Japan is much more mushi. Because it is.

The rainy season not only provided much-appreciated cool breezes, it also woke up my yard. More accurately, it woke up the weeds in my yard.

I came to Japan in August of last year (almost my one year anniversary!). By that time the growing season was over and I had a yard scorched by the summer heat. I assumed the soil just didn`t grow plants well. I was wrong. For a month or so I lived in a jungle.

kusakari means to mow your lawn in Japanese. I know this because a couple junior high school students lost their ball in my yard one day after school and informed me that I needed to kusakari.

The task was daunting.

But when 13 year old boys recognize you have a messy yard, something has to be done.

I pulled weeds and cut weeds that were too big to pull and trimmed my tree that grows out into the street.

Well. Chalk taking care of a yard up as another reason I never want to own a house. It`s never-ending. Having weeded my yard two weeks ago it looks exactly like it did before I touched it.

Beggars can`t be choosers and so I am thankful for my beautiful house, but weeding my yard on mushi atsui weekends is not one of my favorite things to do in rural in Japan.

The advent of summer has brought more than just weeds to my humble home. So far I`ve had nothing short of an invasion at my doorsteps. There`s an ant colony outside my sliding glass doors, a wasp nest in the tree that needs trimming, and no less than six cockroaches have been kind enough to keep me company (four didn`t make it out alive but I may get a re-visit from the two that scampered away).

What with bugs and weeds and a lack of central air conditioning in my home I was beginning to feel a little down about my life in the inaka. I was pretty sure that whatever gaman (perseverance, force of will) I had left wasn`t enough to last me through too many more nightly fumigation rituals or morning trudges through my own personal jungle land.

But that`s the thing about rural (inaka) Japan, anyone could be your neighbor, at any regular moment on any ordinary day you can get a breath of fresh air.

For 4th of July I had a barbecue complete with a charcoal grill and red, white & blue cups and plates. A few friends stopped by and we tried to light our charcoal. Unsuccessfully. A middle-aged man walked into my driveway where the grill debacle was taking place, smiled and said konbanwa, good evening/hello.

Muttering something in Japanese that none of us knew, he came back shortly with cardboard and soon we were grilling kabobs and hot dogs and an incredible assortment of vegetables. "You`re an English teacher," our fire-starter asked in Japanese. We all are, I replied. "I`ve seen you on the train," he smiled.

Miki lives in the last house on my street. She is 24 years old. She`s dating an English teacher from Britain. We`ve rode the last train together from time to time. I always notice it because at ten past midnight it`s only our footsteps and the frogs in the rice fields making noise in my little neighborhood. I met her Tuesday night, coming home from dinner at a beer garden (all you can eat and drink places located on the rooftops of buildings). She was at the same place.

honto ni yoroshiku doesn`t have an exact English equivalent but what we meant when we said it to each other before parting company was, "It was great to meet you, I really hope to see you again."

I guess I can live with cockroaches if it is also means I have the privilege of chance encounters with my other neighbors.

yoroshiku rural Japan.

The Places You`ll Go

Some travel tips and side notes from a recently seasoned traveler

1.) If you find yourself in Japan, touring around your parents...

-Use taxis. For the love, don`t drag travel-weary and jet-lagged parents through crowded train stations. It`s not worth it.
-Avoid rush hour (see above)
-Practice your smile beforehand. You`ll use it a lot; in pictures and just in general because it`ll be a good time
-Don`t sprain your ankle before the trip. Though the exercise of taking Japan by storm will be good for it and everything will be fine in the end, it`ll be a bit of a bother and a blow to the ego to be passed by hunched over old people while walking down the many stairs one encounters while traveling Japan
-Always stop for ice cream

2.) If you find yourself in the Philippines building homes... (for about a week)

-Don`t bring dust masks. Even though the packing list suggests them. It`s a tropical climate. So, no dust. Just mud. Lots of mud.
-Bring a floppy/sun hat. context is important for these things and they are not lame while building homes in the Philippines. There is no context, however, in which sunburns are not lame.
-If you decide to snorkel on your day off you might get stung by a jellyfish but really it`s not so bad. And snorkeling is badass.
-It`s possible to learn how to say the numbers 1-10 in another language in the course of two days even if you`re spending the majority of those two days sweating out everything you`re drinking
-Remember: you always have more strength
-Don`t go back home (Ok, so I don`t actually have any experience with this last tip. I always go back home. But never leaving the Philippines is the only reasonable response to have upon landing in that country. Unfortunately for me I am not reasonable)

Magandang mean beautiful in Tagalog which is the language spoken in the area of the Philippines I was in (Palawan, Puerto Princesa).

That is the first word my host mother taught me. Beautiful. What a beautiful world.

Lookin' Out My Own Eyes

I am happy to have a mom that insisted I come home for Christmas. Traveling Japan or going to exotic beaches sounded so much cooler than Lindenhurst, Illinois and so for a brief moment I felt sorry for myself that I was spending my time in the place I'd been living at for 22 years. This quickly passed when I found myself in the company of those who know me. It was a perfectly timed break, both for leaving and coming. Getting out of Japan was essential, just as essential was coming back here.

A friend from college was visiting a former exchange student of our college for New Year's. However, this former exchange student--Tomoka--now works in Tokyo and had to get back to it the Monday following New Year's. So our friend--Sophie--came and lived in Yamadanosho with me for a little over a week.

I had to go back to work too but it wasn't so bad. Classes didn't start until January 8th so I took long lunches with Sophie. During her week here Sophie rode my bike around the beauty that is Oku, Okayama. During lunch I'd get my fill of our delicious concoctions as well as her stories about her travels.

She told me about the cranes, who seem made for a world that passed hundreds of thousands of years ago. She told me about some really beautiful shrine that was both inviting to her curiosity and off-putting given her foreignness and unfamiliarity with such things.

On Friday the 9th she came with me on one of my kindergarten visits and then to lunch at Oku Junior High School. Five months ago I was lucky if one of the students said a barely audible "Hello" in response to my greetings. But as Sophie and I approached school, a group of second year girls ran up to us shouting "Hello! How are you?" and "Nice to meet you" to Sophie. All of this unprompted.

When I met one of the P.E. teachers this summer she wouldn't speak English to me. She was very kind and remains one of my favorites but she just isn't into English. I understand. I hate chemistry. I don't hate chemists, I just hate the subject. Sophie and I stumbled upon her in the locker room where I hang my coat. The P.E. teacher looked directly at Sophie and said without any coaching or encouragement from me, "Hello. My name is Mayuki Masamoto. Nice to meet you."

Living each day, each week, I've missed the change that's been happening at Oku Junior High School. Things can always be better. They can always be easier. But that shouldn't cloud my ability to see things as they are today.

Over break I went to see "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" with my parents. I loved it. It's not for everyone, but I was in love within the first 15 minutes I think. Brad Pitt's character was born old and grows younger throughout the movie. It's just his body; he goes through all the other stuff like anyone else, he's just in a body opposite from the normal aging process. Anyways, another character asked him what it's like to grow younger instead of the older. He replies, "I don't know. I'm always lookin' out my own eyes."

And that's just it, isn't it? Having people in our lives isn't just nice, it's essential.It gives us a chance at a perspective we couldn't have without them. No doubt, it was fun being back at school. There was a holiday spirit in the air and I was genuinely happy to be in the company of my co-workers and the students again. But without Sophie I wouldn't have had the chance to see the beauty in a life that can be seen only from the outside.

And I, like all of us, will continue living my life looking out my own eyes. But what a blessing to have the company of others, the view of someone else. Simple things like crane sightings and enthusiastic "Hellos" seen through another's eyes.

Simple Things: Making Friendships

Simple things, not great adventures, have kept me from this for awhile. Doing daily things like cleaning (not much, I won't lie), catching up on politics and friends' lives, and settling in have taken up most of my time. I've also just begun my Japanese correspondence course as well as the once a week conversation class I take. I am much less busy than when I was a student and yet I'm finding myself very protective of my time. So, despite the amount of free time I have in comparison to my college life, I also have a new perspective, a new expectation of free time. And so, time seems to evaporate just as quickly as it did a year ago!

I've been here long enough to begin experiencing the joys of friendship, however slight, with the other teachers. Last Friday, my school had it's annual chorus competition (a week after it's annual cultural festival and only a month after the annual sports day). I grew up singing because grew up going to church. That being said, I also grew up being made fun of for my utter inability to sing. This trait, or lack of one, has not improved with age. As with everything at my school, what the students do, the teachers do. We are one. And my policy since day one has been to say yes to anything (within a small measure of reason) that can get me involved in life here. So when one the teachers asked if I would sing with them I said, "Yes."

Wait, what? Sing? Yeah, me sing. To top it all off it was "We Are the World." In English. So not only was I singing but I was also the go-to person when it came to pronunciation and intonation. What this translated to was me not only spending an hour after school to practice singing with the teachers but also to often be the only one singing so they could hear how they ought to be pronouncing the words. The bright side was that they were best students I have ever had.

After practice we'd walk back to the staff room and go over certain words or lines. We'd talk about America and Japan, reflecting on differences and similarities. The other teachers would ask me about my school days, especially compared to this school. Some of the English teachers have never been abroad so I hoping that one day, once I'm back home, they'll come and see the sights and eat the food of my hometown. (I'll have to think long and hard before I can come up with something as terrible as natto to subject them to).

After the chorus competition--the students' classes were competing, the teachers and I just sang for fun--I mulled around the office for a as long as I could but ended up cutting out before I usually do. I saw all the sports teams practicing as I was leaving and decided to take a look. On our one dirt-covered field: soccer, track & field, and baseball practice was going on. The coordination of this fact was a sight to behold. A P.E. teacher and the running coach saw me watching and walked over to me to briefly chat. He's always been one of the most friendly but also one of the most reluctant to use any English with me. His recent efforts at communicating have been very heart-warming and encourage me to keep studying Japanese. He told me, "I sing very well today. I can't speak English but I practice very hard to sing. English is important." I agreed that he did a great job and congratulated him on his efforts. He smiled and then walked away, some of his runners were slowing their pace and that just wouldn't do.

This is a small start, just a little exchange. It would be very forgettable back home. But here, this exchange was only possible because both of us stepped outside of our comfort zones for no practical reason. Just to be friendly, just to share something.

And I think that's great. Small, but great.