Zen and the Art of Trains

I witnessed my first system failure in Japan the other day. Ok, maybe not complete failure. But things went wrong, in a place where things rarely go wrong. Especially when they involve public transport. The train system is definitely one of Japan’s strong suits; something it rightly boasts as the best in the world. The punctuality, the cleanliness, the unsurpassed efficiency of it… all characteristics of something I hold in reverence. Trains have been my passport to Japan since I arrived- shuttling me here and there between my smallish town and the castles, metropolises, temples, villages, mountains and oceans beyond.



I’ve come to know the different types of trains well (brand-new five-star shinkansens, generic local trains, tiny, rickety ‘one-man’ cars), their various smells (the wet-dog funk of a rainy day, the sticky, sweaty aroma of summer, the acrid stench of alcohol on the last train home), and the unspoken rules of on-board etiquette (never look someone in the eyes, take up as little space as possible, don’t engage in lively conversation before 7pm on a weekday). By now, it’s pretty safe to say that where trains are concerned, I’ve turned Japanese.



To think of Japan’s train lines as its arteries and veins (with Tokyo the heart, and Nagoya and Osaka other vital organs) wouldn’t be too fanciful.

So when trains here are late, you know something bad has happened. You learn that the most likely explanation for a train delay in super-efficient Japan is a suicide. Yep, someone has jumped onto the tracks, and usually succeeded in their mission.

Yesterday, my Belgian friend Aurelie (who I met in Canada and was now hosting in Japan- hello globalization) and I boarded the train for Takayama. We were heading up there to see an ukiyoe exhibit, lured by the offer of free tickets from another friend. All was well at first, bar a run-in with the third middle-aged man in two days to forcibly engage us in English conversation practice. Having shaken him off with a train-change, we settled contentedly into our seats on the express bound for Toyama. But on arrival at Hida Kanayama station (i.e. middle of nowhere), the train stopped, and didn’t get going again FOR FIVE HOURS.

Of course there was no indication that we were in for five hours of suspended animation. As far as I was concerned, this was an unusual, if not unprecedented, train delay, and we would be only a little late meeting my friend. At first Aurelie and I were wrapped up in conversation so it didn’t bother us in the slightest. But after two hours we were getting restless. There had been announcements, but no explanation of the problem- that I, with my conversational Japanese, could decipher. After hour three, I was starting to think that this wasn’t a case of “someone on the tracks”. We were even getting to the point of losing sympathy for the hypothetical victim, and discussed how long it should reasonably take to clean up after such an incident.

A few times, Aurelie and I left the train and sauntered around the platform, to battle a growing case of cabin fever. Passengers in the train stuck going the other direction stared woefully out at us. A local wandered out of his house to gawk at the motionless trains and peer down the tracks, all the while tucking in his shirt. At least the view was pretty. That part of Hida is gorgeous. The station was nestled among small mountain houses surrounded by lush spring greenery spilling down from the forest.





What struck me most about the whole experience was the behavior of the other (Japanese) passengers. For the most part, there was no behavior. They stayed in their seats and dozed, or stared at their mobile phone screens. There was an air of resignation about the whole thing. And this was despite a lack of information from the authorities. No one really knew what was going on, but apparently no one really cared. There was a middle-aged woman scurrying around, hassling the conductors with questions of “when?”, but mostly people just stayed put and waited it out. With not so much as a sigh of impatience.

It got me thinking. I know I’ve changed, being here in Japan. I’ve definitely developed more patience and a greater ability to just ‘let things go’. This is a result of both absorbing some of the cultural norms and the fact that there’s so much more I can’t control here, being a foreigner. For the most part, patience and endurance are a virtue. Certainly they were in the delayed train situation. But I maybe they can also signal apathy and aversion to change. I couldn’t help but think that had there actually been an emergency, where passengers could have done something to help or escape danger, that they would have just stayed put and waited for instructions from the authorities.

I’m sure plenty of people were fuming inside, in their own way. But Japanese culture trains them (no pun intended) to hide outward expressions of strong negative emotions, so they’re masters at concealing frustration. Although strange, the quiet atmosphere in the face of a major disruption to the day was refreshing for me. For the time that I was able to, it was soothing to just accept that our day of sightseeing was shot, sit back, and listen to my iPod, safe in the knowledge that whoever needed to was busily and efficiently working at a solution to the problem.

Yes We Can In Japan!

The US election is old news, I know. But it’s taken me this long to get my head around Obama-mania in Japan.

Take election day, for example. It was a normal day like any other in Japan. But lacking in other forms of engagement at work, I made good use of my internet access by refreshing news websites every couple minutes. At the end of 5th period, the teacher who sits next to me came back to his desk and asked, 「オバマかった?」 “Did Obama win?”.

That night, I went out for dinner with a few ALT friends. Passing by the train station, we noticed several posters up on a wall. I might add that posters are never put up on this wall; I think it’s even illegal. Anyway, the poster was a news bulletin announcing that Obama had won.

Later, during inauguration week, an English teacher came by my desk to remind me that around midnight Japan time, Obama would be giving his speech live on TV. There was definitely been a higher level of excitement about the election than I would have expected, here in a country that has traditionally been relatively self-contained and self-absorbed.

So I’ve made a list of all the times I heard something Obama-related pop up in everyday life, all the way over here in small-town Japan. Each of these were completely unprompted- in every case it was the Japanese person who brought Obama up, not me. I suppose it’s because in the Japanese subconscious, ‘Westerner’ tends to equal ‘American’. So I’m automatically seen as someone who will appreciate spontaneous outpourings of devotion to the 44th President of the United States. None of the people in question were aware that I’m a US citizen (the concept of dual nationality is an alien concept in Japan, so I tend not to mention it).

1. Visiting the Koizumi family one day back in October, K-chan, the 8-year-old, says “Obama”, completely out of the blue. Maybe her mother and I were talking about traveling, or America, or something, but it took me completely by surprise. I was completely amazed that an elementary kid in Gifu would even know the name of an American politician.

2. In class, teaching the 2nd grade students (16 y.o). Their task is to write a “Guess Who” quiz for their partner. I read over one kid’s shoulder: “He has black face. He will be next president of America.”

3. Again, teaching the 2nd grade students, who are doing a writing exercise. I go to check one student’s work and urge him to write a little more. This boy is obviously smart, but under-stimulated, so in the past he’s been a bit of a smart ass. This time, though, he exclaims “Yes we can!”.

4. The day after Obama’s inauguration, my supervisor brought it up. He commented that “now, an Okinawan can be Japan’s president”.

5. Teaching the 1st grade English stream students... we are having a 'written conversation' instead of a verbal one. I ask, "What do you do on weekends?" The student's answer: “I play baseball game. It’s very exciting. But Obama spoke more exciting.” Do you like Obama? “Yes I do... And I like ‘Yes We Can’.”



6. The other week in English Club, the students and I were writing letters to a Canadian ALT who used to work at my school. Somehow, Obama made it into their letters:



Just before the election, CNN published a book in Japan of Obama’s speeches, and it became a best seller. It contains transcripts of his speeches in English, alongside Japanese translations, and a CD. I found out about this book a couple months ago when I arrived at work to discover it on my desk. Underneath were some typed pages of several lesson plans for my second grade English class. Looking through them, I realized that my JTE had decided on the theme for our next batch of classes- Obama’s speeches. I was surprised and strangely moved. While I know how important this next era in America politics will be for the world, I could hardly believe that a teacher of English in Gifu, Japan would find the speeches worthy of committing five lessons to.

Since I found out about this book, I’ve come to realize that it’s only one of many. The ‘Obama section’ is pretty much standard in Japanese bookshops these days. And in the case below, it was also the bestseller section.


Why is Obama such a big deal in Japan? I’ve got a few theories… Some are based on shallow reasons the Japanese might identify with him and his message. So these first few are novelty theories.

1. There’s a town in Fukui prefecture called “Obama”. I think this in itself has been a catalyst for igniting the collective Japanese imagination for all things Obama. The first time I heard about Obama city was back around June when the election was starting to heat up. I remember seeing footage of hula dancers there performing a Hawaiian dance for the candidate from Hawaii. (It should be mentioned that Japan has an intense fascination with Hawaii and sees it as the world’s premium “international” holiday destination, bar none.) I visited this town just a couple weeks ago. It’s a pretty unremarkable place, as far as I could see. But I went on a hunt for signs of the Obama obsession, and wasn’t disappointed…



2. “Obama” sounds like a Japanese word. Several Japanese people have discussed this with me. One even mentioned that there are some families named Obama in Japan.

3. Obama is kakko-ii (cool) in the eyes of Japanese youth. In the last few years, African-American culture, and Jamaican culture to some extent, has become the epitome of cool in Japan. Shallow it may be, but this fact can only help Obama's cause.


4. His motto during the campaign was “Yes We Can”. This is in simple English, and mentions the collective first person. So it actually sounds exactly like something an English conversation school in Japan would cook up as their motto. It’s catchy and easy to remember. The fact that it’s in English makes it extra-cool and modern. Hence it has become my students’ latest catch-phrase!

But of course there must be deeper reasons to explain why Obama has been embraced as a figure relevant to Japanese society… His message of “change” seems particularly relevant in a country where people have traditionally not questioned or challenged authority or their own place in society. Ninety-one percent of Japanese are dissatisfied with the political system.
(http://www.eastasiaforum.org/2009/03/21/the-japanese-people-lose-hope/)
They perceive it as especially staid and impenetrable, where politicians rule completely above the people and are utterly removed from the concerns of the average citizen. (Of course this is the case to some extent everywhere, but in Japan there are certain privileged families who have ruled the political world for decades.) Recently there’s been a lot of talk in Japan about wanting politicians people can identify with, as opposed to the blue-bloods that have dominated the political world so far.

And perhaps most obvious to anyone who’s been in Japan longer than a few months: “Yes We Can” is reminiscent of Japan’s national motto, ganbatte. But to me, the Japanese phrase seems to put more emphasis on effort or enduring a struggle for something, while Obama’s version implies success and actually reaching the goal. I only hope this nuance helps Japan to actively strive for change instead of just admiring the concept from afar.

生徒たち - Students

It’s hard to believe I haven’t written an entry exclusively about my students yet. I guess that’s because at first, it seemed like there was too much to cover, and later, they became just another part of my daily routine. As harsh as it sounds, as a whole, they became a little boring and predictable. Not individually, but collectively. After a full day trying my hardest to bond and connect with Japanese teenagers, the last thing I wanted was to go home and think more about them. But recently, I’ve gotten more resilient to the trials and tribulations of being an ALT in Japan, so I’ve felt compelled to get a few words down about the kids I’ve been sharing the joys of English with.

To set the scene, I teach 11 classes a week, for 1st, 2nd and 3rd graders in senior high school (that’s 10th, 11th, 12th grade; ie. 15-18 years old). I teach about 120 first years, 120 second years, and 20 third years. So needless to say, I don’t exactly know each of them by name… which is shame, but almost impossible to accomplish, short of making them wear nametags all day (like elementary school kids). Remembering names is even more difficult than usual for me because they are all Japanese, and while they sometimes want to be called by their first names, usually teachers address them by their family name. So I would effectively have to learn two names for each student in order to keep on top of things (500 names). But I do what I can, and I do know a lot of kids’ names.

On top of those issues, I don’t see each student all that often. Most first and second years I only see once every two weeks, at the most. That’s assuming the school schedule isn’t interrupted by Sports Day, tests, assembly or work experience. There are a couple of classes that are doing a special English course, so I see them twice a week.

The Bad

About a year ago, I described how my students seemed pretty ‘catatonic’ in class, but now, after more than a year of teaching, I’m totally used to this. I know the best techniques for eliciting responses from them, and I no longer feel uncomfortable standing in front of 40 pairs of eyes (only half of which are open) and 20 blank faces. And I now understand why they’re like this- it’s pretty much the ‘ideal’ classroom environment. They are supposed to be like sponges, absorbing information. Questioning, being critical, and offering opinions are not considered important in the Japanese education system, and are even looked on as delinquent behavior.

I won’t embark on an exposition of everything wrong with the Japanese education system. But I will say that I feel sorry for the kids I teach. In fact, in some respects, there is a lot to pity about being Japanese. By valuing perseverance and duty to the extreme, this society pushes people to their limits. It seems like the majority of students and teachers are seriously sleep deprived, and that it’s the norm, rather than the exception, for people to hate what they do in their day to day life. Yet they do it anyway, because they know no other way.

This became painfully obvious the other day when I gave my second year students (16 year olds) an “About You” worksheet to complete. They had to finish six sentences: “I like…”, “I hate…”, “I always…”, “I’ve never…”, “I’m scared of…”, “I’m looking forward to…”.
Two boys (in a class of 20) answered the following:

I hate rugby.
I always play rugby.

I hate baseball.
I always play baseball.

Another kid wanted to finish the sentence “I’m scared of…” with the English word for 人生. I didn’t know what it meant until after class, when I looked it up. It means ‘life’, or ‘human existence’.

In the case of my students, school is their life. But it doesn’t merely encompass study and homework. In fact, club activities are taken just as seriously, if not more so, than schoolwork. In the most extreme cases, a student will get up at 5am, do their club activity (e.g. soccer), go to classes from 8:30 to 3pm, do more club activities until 6, go to juku (cram school), and get home around 10 or 11pm. Day after day. Weekends and vacation periods are also often taken up with their club activity. There are plenty of kids who don’t belong to a club, some of whom dedicate all their free time to studying. And then there are others who don’t have a club and don’t study, either. But such ‘lack of motivation’ definitely isn’t encouraged in Japan, and these kids seem to have other problems (family, personal) that have led them to be in this state.

Basic psychology says that people don’t do anything without some kind of reward, on some level. So pushing yourself to the extreme does pay off in some way, if only to reassure yourself that you’re ‘doing the right thing’. This, to me, seems to be at the heart of why so many people in Japan live what could be described as ‘lives of quiet desperation’. I’m not saying people here don’t ever enjoy themselves, but from my perspective, it seems that when faced with the choice of doing what they want, or doing what they should do, most Japanese would choose the latter. Perseverance is valued above all else. Of course, there is much to be admired about this, but day-to-day, I tend to see the negative results of this, in the sheer exhaustion of students.

The kids also seem to suffer from a huge lack of confidence, by Western standards, anyway. In places like Australia and the US, we’re used to hearing the old “You can do anything!” spiel. As cheesy and clichéd as this seems, it IS a big part of the Western outlook these days. I think it does sink in for most kids, who (barring any conflicting messages from parents) hear it throughout their 13 years of education. Another key message is “Be yourself!”. But these aren’t a given in Japan. In fact, a famous Japanese saying is “The nail that sticks out gets hammered down”. My students are terrified of taking risks, for fear of making mistakes. Even if that risk is answering a simple “Yes” or “No” question in English class. Or writing an answer in pen, which is permanent, rather than pencil, which they can erase.

So these are some of the negative aspects of my students. I won't go into experiences I've had with kids acting out in class - that's another story...
But overall, the good outweighs the bad, so I'll get to "The Good" next time.

The hills are alive...

Ahhhh Nagano. What would Japan be without you? Well, it would still have Hokkaido, but that's a whole 'nother island, way up in the north. Nagano must be Honshu's Hokkaido... if that makes any sense.

A few weeks ago, I spent a weekend in this wonderful neighbouring prefecture. The occassion? A soccer tournament. The thing is, I am not a soccer player. Until last June, I had never played a game of soccer. And yet I signed up for two days of non-stop soccer action- on two separate occassions. Anyway, it was for the 'All-Japan ALT Soccer Tournament', held in the green, green mountains of Nagano-ken. Back in June, what really drew me to it was the prospect of running and jumping on a lush carpet of fresh green grass. And, since we were in the middle of the spring/summer season, I definitely wasn't disappointed. The fields we played on are quite possibly the most beautiful soccer fields ever. The view is spectacular- and not at all what you would expect in Japan. You can see the Japan Alps, a wide blue sky, and green fields everywhere:



Contrast this with my typical day-to-day view living in the so-called inaka (countryside) in Gifu:



This time, though, it was an autumn tournament, so the view was just a little less than vibrant green. But no problem; the weather was pretty much perfect for running, jumping, falling head-over-heels, getting bruised, and sweating like a pig.

Anyway, back in June we managed to place second out of about 10 teams. This time, with a different line-up, we came fourth. Which is still a good effort... especially given that these tournaments invariably involve playing multiple games back-to-back. (Although they are mini-games with 15-minute halves, and on a small field.)It doesn't help that the fields are at a bit of an altitude. Needless to say, the two tournaments really took it out of all of us, but most of the returning players felt a lot less like a piece of chewed-up meat the second time around. Here's something I meant to post back in June:

By the closing minutes of the final, my legs were shot. My quadriceps felt like over-stretched rubber bands and I could barely jog off the field, let alone run back on to shake hands with the other team. I also had several Mercedes-Benz imprints on my thighs. That is, from the soccer ball slamming into me. Shrugging it off as battle scars, I managed to join the rest of the team in accepting our second place trophy and 6 packs of Asahi beer.



This time, there were no fountains of beer to help us numb the pain away. I returned to Gifu with a nice bruise on my shin, which emerged despte me wearing shin-guards!

Besides the injuries, the other highlight of the weekend was what I'll call the 'Gaijin Party' on Saturday night. Basically, all players (there were over 100 of us) headed down to the hotel's party room to relive the high school days we never had. It's an all-drinking, all-dancing evening filled with cheesy tunes and even cheesier moves. I don't think any song played that night was released this century. The combination of dated music, alcohol and soccer exhaustion created a dance floor like no other. All I can say is I'm glad I didn't bother bringing my camera. Or maybe I regret it. Either way... No one seemed put off by either the music or the dancing. In fact, apparently a few people journeyed in from Tokyo solely to come to the party. It's not every day you find a foreigner-only party in Japan!

Suprisingly, we pulled up ok on the Sunday after the party. The whole soccer experience is pretty intense, but well worth it. If only to return to the 'burbs of Gifu and boast to your friends of your conquests in the Japan Alps.

Hearth & Home, Japanese-style

On a recent Sunday afternoon, I had a storybook JET experience: I visited a Japanese family’s home and spent quality down-time with them. JET is, after all, an acronym for ‘Japan Exchange and Teaching Programme’… but until now, I had felt more like I was doing much more of the latter than the former. The K family is a family of four- N-san (the mother), K-chan (9 years old), M-chan (11 years old) and the father…um, Mr.K. N-san is intensely interested in English, and she wants her kids, who learn some English at elementary school, to get to know foreign people on a real level. Until July, I worked with another ALT who was friends with this family. When she left, she introduced me to them, in the interest of continuing the foreigner-K family bonding tradition…

N called me during the week to invite me to their house on the weekend. I’m ashamed to say that at first, I had a somewhat negative attitude towards the visit. As enjoyable as it seems, talking to, playing with, and generally ‘hanging’ with Japanese people sounded suspiciously like work to me. After a year of teaching teenagers English, and occasionally visiting elementary and junior high schools, not to mention helping out at summer workshops and attending work ‘parties’, I have to say that for me, a bit of the shine has disappeared from the international exchange experience. I still mostly enjoy it, but the idea of cutting a Sunday with my friends short to do be a ‘zoo exhibit’ for a few hours didn’t exactly inspire me. Demonstrating our highly-developed sense of self-awareness, my friends and I have started calling ourselves “jaded second-years”- that is, ALTs who have been in Japan for over a year and are starting to voice our complaints about living here.

I spite of myself, I ended up having a great time. First, N drove to my house and picked me up. The girls rang my doorbell and were obviously excited at the prospect of having me as their guest. I was pretty curious about what the afternoon would entail, given that all N had said was that she would like to have me come over to her house. But I needn’t have worried – doing normal ‘Sunday at home with the family’ stuff was relaxing and fun. So what did we do? Well, number one was cooking. And therefore, eating. N and the kids – and me, throwing my clumsy gaijin hands into the mix – prepared scones (raisin, and bean-filled), kakigori (shaved ice with coloured syrup), and curry rice (Japanese curry, that is). I was particularly impressed by the kids, who were actually a lot of help to their mum – kind of like the mythical country kids we hear about from days gone by, who chopped firewood, milked the cows, gathered the eggs, and hiked 10 miles in the snow to collect the mail. Only in this case, they biked to the supermarket, bought ingredients for dinner, chopped potatoes, kneaded dough, and shaved ice. I suspect this is actually the norm in Japan… Western kids come across as extremely Bart Simpson-like, in contrast. Funny, that.

The second highlight of the day was playing with their Wii. For older readers and technophobes, this is a video game console, as close to virtual reality as the average Joe can get. In a nutshell, “a distinguishing feature is its wireless controller, which can be used as a handheld pointing device and detect movement in three dimensions.” (Thank you, Wikipedia.) The girls created a ジェシカ (Jessica) character, which involved choosing various facial features to create a cartoon that looked like me. I was a little worried that I would end up looking like the stereotypical gaijin character that features so prominently in the collective Japanese psyche (big nose, round eyes, pink skin, usually fat). But fortunately my character ended up resembling me pretty closely- as much as a pixilated cartoon portrait can, anyway.

The final icing on the cake was a mini piano concert. My ALT friend had warned me about the K family’s tendency to break into von Trapp-esque performances now and then. I was looking forward to the chance to be reunited with a piano once again- it had been over a year since I was in the same room as one. Sure enough, just before dinner, K-chan started playing from her piano books. She was pretty good, which doesn’t surprise me. A lot of Japanese kids learn the piano, and with the inordinate amount of time they spent practicing, they always end up seeming like child prodigies, even if their playing style lacks emotion. (I can comment on this because I’ve had the ‘luck’ to walk into, or past, several piano recitals in the past year, in random public places. They’re a common occurance in Japan.) Anyway, when the kids and N heard that I had learned piano for 10 years, they insisted I perform for them. So I tried to play the two songs I can always rely on my fingers to automatically remember. But it seems that after a year sans piano, I’ve forgotten parts of them! So I just played and replayed the bits I could remember.

After a dinner of curry, N insisted on sending me home with more curry for tomorrow’s lunch, freshly baked scones, and a business shirt that was too big for her… but which of course fit the bigger gaijin- me. She even drove me home, and the kids walked me to my door. It was all so sweet, and I felt guilty not being able to properly reciprocate. But I plan to buy them some wonderful omiyage this weekend, since I’m supposed to be seeing them again next week.

Beauty in the most unlikely of places

I’m obsessed with manholes. Before you declare me insane, remember- I’m in Japan. (That excuses everything!) Manholes here are works of art, seriously. Each one reminds me of an inkan- the round stamps made of ivory, wood or plastic that Japanese people use as their signatures… (Which, by the way, is the kanji for ‘ji’, ‘shi’, and ‘ka’, which mean mercy, poem and flower. So I guess that makes me a merciful flower poem.)

Anyway, as for manholes, I first noticed them several years ago on a trip to Hokkaido. Towns and cities all across Japan have their own trademark manhole designs, which vary depending on utility type (sewer, fire, telephone, gas) and manufacturer. They’re like a type of street art portraying local emblems, sites, delicacies and even cartoon characters. On my Hokkaido trip, I thought they were so artistic that I took photos of each different one I saw. Since then, I dreamt of the day when my collection could grow beyond the borders of Hokkaido. And now, living here on Honshu, I’ve had plenty of opportunities. I have photos of about 40 or 50 manholes. Of course, the nerdy collector in me is kicking myself for not documenting one in each and every city I’ve been to, but still, I think I’ve done pretty well.

I’m not the first person to be drawn to them… a quick internet search show that others are clearly taken with Japanese manholes too...
for a summary, see http://www.pinktentacle.com/2007/10/japanese-manhole-covers/
Some people (apparently Japanese) have taken it upon themselves to trek across whole regions of the country documenting the manholes in each town, and then create a manhole map (http://micio.cute.bz/map.html). But it’s okay if I’m not 100 percent original- at least I know I’ve personally stood in front of each and every one of these manholes. They’re kind of like postcards…

And I can be comforted by the knowledge that not everyone shares my love of sewer covers. My friends tend to laugh at me when I have to run to catch up to them after hanging back to photograph a manhole. But look- how can anyone not find them fascinating?!

Good ole Gifu


Ikeda, near Osaka


Ise, site of Japan's most sacred shrine...


Kobe


Matsumoto

August

For the last month, I’ve been living a life of two extremes, filled with intense planning and socializing on the one hand, and mind-numbing boredom on the other.

Intense…
August was the month of new JET arrivals. As a second-year JET, I was appointed to the role of RPA (Regional Prefectural Advisor) in April. Usually there are only PAs, not special regional ones as well, but since Gifu is such a big prefecture, it’s necessary to have representatives for each of the five regions. There are two of us for each region, so I’m working with another JET to help the new people settle in. So during August, much of my time was taken up with the following tasks, some of which were pretty tanoshii (fun), others which were more of a drag, and kind of scary, to be honest:

-Contacting new JETs at their schools, the week they arrived. This sounded easy enough. Simply dial a number, use super-polite, rehearsed Japanese phrase to inquire as to whether a certain ALT is available, speak to said ALT in English. And it was fairly simple, although I fear that I scared most of the JETs, who were a) not expecting a phone call at work, and b) had no clue who I was. From the first tentative ‘moshi moshi’, or ‘hello?’, I became all-to-aware of the trepidation and bewilderment in their voices. No doubt most of them were somewhat dazed, partly as a result of the fact that only days before, they had been teleported from a five-star hotel in Tokyo to a shack/apartment in the middle of some rice-fields. I tried to explain that I was calling just to “see how things were going”, but still I could sense that most didn’t feel comfortable enough to answer honestly. I’m sure calling them helped at least a little in their adjustment to life in Gifu, though.

-Making a video about Gifu. This appeared to be an overwhelming task, which me and the other RPA avoided doing for quite awhile. The aim was to introduce ourselves and our region via video to the new JETs, some of whom we will probably never meet in person. Eventually, we borrowed a camera on what turned out to be the hottest day of the year (around 40 and humid)… a trek around Gifu city was required, and overall, we did really well considering the conditions! We also ‘voluntold’ my visiting Australian friend to play camerawoman and director. We really didn’t have much of a plan, so we used our improv comedy ‘skills’ to liven up the video. Uh, yes…it was hilarious…?

-Writing a guide about Gifu. Still working on this one… another endeavor to make this place more accessible to the newbies. Maybe once we’re done, I can finally grant the people at Lonely Planet their wish and write that book for them- I’ve been in demand there for a few years now, you know. *sigh*

-Organizing presentations for Orientation: another task we successfully managed to avoid until close to D-Day. Ultimately, the orientation went well, but not without a bit of anxiety. Especially since I hardly feel qualified to tell other people (some of whom are trained teachers) how to teach English to Japanese kids. One cool thing we RPAs got out of orientation was brand spanking new Gifu T-shirts (limited edition, of course). With ぎふ (Gifu) on the back, and a map of it on the shoulder (MY idea!), we were looking pretty snazzy. The best part was, one stroke of the ぎ was drawn as an ayu fish, and the ふ was made to look like a cormorant. You really have to be Japanese or a Gifu JET to get the reference- but cormorant fishing (ukai) is Gifu’s claim to fame. Check it out:




-Organizing welcome events. One of the more fun jobs. Lots of meet-and-greets, bringing out the ‘social butterfly’ in me… actually, probably more like a ‘social caterpillar’. It was exciting to meet some fresh faces for a change. Plenty of drinking and eating and sweating under the hot summer sun (during the walking tour of Gifu, conveniently conducted on the other hottest day of the year).

In between being a busy little RPA and dealing with the summer heat, I also squeezed in a quick getaway to the US to visit my Grandma. My August schedule was so full that I had to book my trip for the day after the orientation. Once I arrived, it was so much the complete opposite of everything I’d experienced for the past month and year that I was a little dazed. Not only was I in the US - radically different from Japan in every way - but I had nothing I had to do… except bond with Grandma. I have to admit I spend many quality hours in front of the TV, absorbing all the English I could and rejoicing in being able to understand everything! Unfortunately, my trip was so short (6 days) that I didn’t get a chance to venture into Chicago or enjoy much of the outside world, except a couple of restaurants and the optometrist’s clinic. But no matter; in many ways, the trip recharged me for my next 11 months in Japan. In other ways though, it made me a little more fed up with some aspects of living here that I will explain in the next post.

Mind-numbing…
So as a foil to my RPA persona, my alter-ego was bored ALT. It was the usual scenario, which I don’t believe I’ve described here before. Probably because it’s so boring, even writing about it is boring. Basically, in Japan, teachers have no official holiday periods. Well, aside from a week in August (Obon-week) when many Japanese return to their hometowns to pay homage to their ancestors and dance in a circle- yes, really. But there are no school holidays for teachers, not in the way there are in Western countries. The situation is confusing, and I’m no expert, because no one has ever explained it properly to me, but many teachers have to be at their desks all summer in case a student comes with questions about their school work. Yes. In summer. Summer ‘break’ is only about a month here anyway, and for the first part of the break there are ‘supplementary classes’. (Don’t ask me, I don’t know why they’re necessary either.) A LOT of students continue to come to school, in their uniform, all through summer. They come to prepare for the school culture and sports festivals, which are held during the second week back. Their dedication is unbelievable, but to me, as much sad as admirable. In my first classes back with students I ask them, ‘Did you enjoy summer vacation?’. To which they invariably reply, ‘No.’ Why? Because they spent every day either at school, studying, in sports training, or traveling to some obscure part of the country to participate in a compulsory sports match. In Japan, the emphasis on just doing what you’re supposed to do is reflected in the fact that there is no phrase (that I’m aware of anyway) equivalent to ‘Have fun!’. Only がんばって (Gambatte), which roughly means ‘try your best’. But, some students managed to go to Disneyland – the height of adolescent pleasure in Japan. And a few went on a study trip to Australia. How could anyone not enjoy Australia??

Needless to say, I got a lot of my planning and RPA work done at school each day. Along with a whole lot of web-surfing, emailing, reading, and some Japanese study. My other free moments were filled with staring across the empty staffroom, gazing wistfully out the window, and marveling at the tasks my colleagues had managed to accomplish during a summer spent at their desks. Like making a model ship out of paper. Or cutting their toe nails. (Seriously.)

And now, to demonstrate a typical summer’s day in the staffroom, here’s snippet of a blog entry I wrote a few weeks ago, but never finished, since 35 degrees doesn’t lend itself to being thoughtful- or coherent for that matter…

It’s so hot I can’t think properly. And I’m at work. What about air conditioning, you say? Well, it seems our school or our prefecture is close to bankruptcy, because even though it is over 30 degrees in the staff room right now, the air conditioning is off. I am baffled as to why it is sometimes on and sometimes off. There seems to be no rhyme or reason regarding the on/off schedule. At first, I was told it had to be over 28 degrees in the staffroom, and after the date of July 1, for the air conditioning to be on. But now, those two requirements have been filled. And yet I am sweating like a pig.

This is summer in Japan. Occasionally, a bug or two enters the staffroom. Sometimes it’s a wasp, sometimes a mosquito, sometimes a fly, sometimes a bumblebee. Heck, we’ve even had a bird. Other times, I am so cold from the air conditioning blasting right at me (due to my unfortunate seating position) that I need to put on a sweater even though it’s 30 degrees outside. But mostly, I’m just hot. And my mind is fuzzy.