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.

A Simple Day

In Japan, I live a very simple life. I travel a lot and see beautiful things and meet interesting people. But that's on the weekends. Most of time in Japan has been spent very simply.

As the long chill of winter is beginning to set in there are still things to look forward to. Simple things. Hot milk tea in the middle of my day during a free period. I enjoyed two cups today (I had a lot of free periods).

After work I went to the 100 yen shop (think: dollar store), the grocery store, and the drug store. I bought props for my Halloween lesson, dinner, and drain unclogger stuff.

I came home and successfully unclogged my bathroom sink drain that's been clogged for maybe 5 months. Now that, wow, that was exciting. Truly. It made me so happy I forgot about the 20 minute trip to the drug store as I searched for what I needed, not knowing the term in Japanese or any brands to be on the lookout for.

I tacked my pre- and post-run stretching routine to my wall. I've been having some trouble with my lower back and I think a healthy dose of stretching might be the answer.

And then I made dinner. Taco salad.

It's 9:33pm on Tuesday. I will turn on some music real low, open up a book about writing (On Writing Well) and then I will fall asleep. Hopefully to wake up and exercise but it's just as likely I'll sleep until the last possible minute and run out of door, pumping my sweet sweet bike as fast as my legs allow.

A simple day, like the ones before it and the ones ahead of it. My simple life.

Watergate in 2009

One year in Japan turned into two. It will not turn into three.

So what now?

I studied English Writing in college, wrote for and then became the Editor-in-Chief of the newspaper there, with the intention of writing for a newspaper one day. (To be honest, no one else wanted to be EiC and so I fell into the position as opposed to fighting for the spot like most other EiCs do. It was still a crazy amount of work and all that jazz. Just sayin. Truth is truth).

But they tell me newspapers are dying. My own beloved Chicago Tribune, the paper I grew-up watching my parents read as I flipped through the comics (skipping Calvin and Hobbes half the time because there were too many words) has been bought up and renovated, to resemble--I assume--a less prestigious form of USA Today.

I'm idealistic, though. I'm a child of the 90's. I don't know economic hardship or world wars or presidential assassinations or the break-up of the Beatles. I know Popples and college education and a car and license at 17 and the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and the absurd impeachment of a president and the absurd re-election of another (ok, wasn't actually a child for G. W. Part II, but I couldn't resist the parallelism).

My parents raised me on the belief that TV rots your brain but I guess decided it was too cruel to ban the whole thing altogether. Yet, despite the one-hour-a-day-except-on-special-occasions regimen I was on, I would have to say media is one of the greatest sources of inspiration in my life. Specifically movies.

In journalism class during the second year of college we spent a class watching most of "All The President's Men." Not getting to finish the movie (and knowing only the vaguest bits about the scandal that changed American politics and journalism forever) I rented the movie and watched it with my roommate.

It was inspiring. When deadlines bogged me down or budgets didn't line up again threatening printing, I would recall the tenacity of Woodward and Bernstein, the ups and downs, and I was able to press (HaHaHaHa) on. And even though I knew the world journalism was getting a bit more complicated, the energy in the story, in the newsroom, captivated me.

What what the Watergate of 2009? Where's my contemporary inspiration gonna come from?

I just finished watching State of Play a couple hours ago. Starring Russel Crowe and Ben Affleck, it's a story about political scandal surrounding the mysterious death of a Senator's mistress just as said Senator is in the process of conducting hearings regarding allegations of misconduct and extortion by a corporation responsible for sending military contractors to Iraq and Afghanistan.

SPOILER ALERT! read further at your own discretion....


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Ok. So this whole complicated, inter-connected story is handled by a veteran journalist played by Crowe and the unlikely side-kick of a blogger for the news paper played by Rachel Adams.

A fascinating story involving the conflict of capitalism and a war effort, public and private lives of politicians, and print vs new media, not to mention how trustworthy friendships become when power is inserted into the mix and perhaps even a slight rebuke against the military and how it handles discharged soldiers. The Senator ends up in the middle of the scandal as a key, though wholly indirect, player in the murder of his mistress as well as clearly having manipulated his friend, the veteran journalist, to tell the story with e favorable bent toward the Senator. In the end, blogger chick smiles to the veteran and says that this story is so big that people should read with with print between there fingers.

Victory for old journalism despite changes in ownership and form as well as for truth and justice in the land of the free and home of the brave. Take that!

Meanwhile in the reality, we're still in Iraq and Afghanistan as the causalities mount. The contractors haven't been rooted out or held accountable in any real way for the lives they've put at risk. Rupert Murdoch owns all of our souls if we watch TV news. Print news can't get it catchy enough and online news can't get it relevant enough, leaving a huge information gap that MTV is all too happy to fill up with utter and addicting garbage.

Like only Hollywood can deliver, it was an intense thriller tied to current events with a melancholy, though chummy ending that left you feeling that "it" (whatever that means to you) was getting taken care of by someone out there.

Devoid of a real enough connection to current events (namely, victories for print journalism or truth and justice), it was simply an entertaining movie. No real meat to it, I suppose.

Though it's got me thinking. And writing. And planning my next step that won't be in Japan.

So maybe like Obama's Nobel Peace Prize, this movie serves as an inspiration for action in the direction I was heading even if it isn't--in itself--connected to anything substantial.

Maybe the point is there is no Watergate in 2009. There is no one big issue. There are hundreds. It's our move. To not tune out. To take small bites and plan our next steps, in faith.

Dear IRS...

Dear IRS,

Thank you for my rebate check.

After months of nervously anticipating having to do my taxes from overseas and then days of pouring over forms hoping I was doing SOMETHING right (or at least right enough) it's nice to reap an unexpected, if small, reward.

Now I will promptly send my check back to the States where you sent it from days ago so that it can actually be deposited into my bank.

It's the thought that counts, though.

Sincerely,
Claire Brakel

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.