The past two weeks have been fairly easy, work-wise. It feels like I’ve spent more time doing interesting Japanese-y things than working, which is great, but believe it or not, I am actually ready to start ‘real’ work, 2 months into the job! Japan has had two long weekends in a row, thanks to ‘Respect for the Aged Day’ and ‘Autumnal Equinox Day’. By comparison, Australians really shouldn’t get so excited about their one or two slack ‘do we really need this?’ public holidays- the Melbourne Cup and Queen’s Birthday. Japan is the world leader in those kinds of days off… a sample from my diary: Health and Sports Day; Culture Day; Coming of Age Day; Vernal Equinox Day (and it’s on a Thursday!); Emperor’s Birthday; Greenery Day; Children’s Day; Marine Day… etc.
Anyway, the last few days at work have been taken up with high school exams. I think they have them every couple of months or so. I actually had to write one of the tests for the 3rd grade class (Year 12)! That was interesting, given that I hadn’t even taught them the material they were going to be tested on. Oh well, somehow I cobbled together a few questions using the textbook. I also had to mark the tests, and freaked myself out because the first 5 or so were terrible- like 20 out of 50. I thought I had made the test too hard, until I found a few students who managed to get in the high 40s. Phew! “With great power comes great responsibility.” ;-pBut the main thing that’s blog-worthy this time is my trip to Kyoto ! I went last weekend with 4 other people (all doing the same program as me). Kyoto, in case you didn’t know, is the cultural capital of Japan . It wasn’t bombed during WWII, so many of Japan ’s oldest and most famous temples are there. AND, it’s only a 2 hour train ride (only around $20) from here! I knew Gifu was good for something… getting away!
Saturday, September 22-
Wake up early and try to discreetly (i.e. through much banging of pots and pans; turning taps off and on; opening and shutting doors) force my friend Sandra to wake up and get moving because we can’t miss the train! Arrive at the station on time, but receive a call from the other three, saying they’re gonna miss it. Decide to go anyway- screw them, they can get the next one. (hehe) Are surprised when they step on the train one stop after us; they made it after all, but had to do a last-second car park in a weird spot. We all pray the car is still there in two days time.
Arrive in Kyoto, ravenous. Must eat before we can sightsee. Wander the station for half an hour and finally get a meal in an ‘Italian’ restaurant. After eating, realize we need bus and sightseeing info. Find the tourist info office, but unfortunately, it’s only for Japanese people. A sign informs us that foreigners must go to the 9th floor. “Apartheid!”, we protest. 2 hours after arriving at Kyoto station, we manage to exit it. Get the bus to our first destination, Nijo-jo (Nijo castle). Buy an entry ticket from machine (yeah, why DO we need ticket booth attendants anyway?) Enter the glory that is Nijo-jo. Marvel at the architecture, straight out of a samurai movie, and the sheer number of middle-aged French tourists. Marvel again at the ‘nightingale’ floors- the floorboards are arranged so that when you walk on them, they squeak and sound exactly like birds twittering (designed so that intruders could be detected).
Take the bus to the hotel, Orange Inn, chosen by yours truly. Check in and flop on the bunks. But realize we must soldier on. Take the train to an out-of-the-way, but reportedly incredibly awesome, shrine: Fushimi Inari Taisha. It’s a Shinto shrine dedicated to Inari, the god of fertility, rice, agriculture, foxes and industry (according to Wikipedia!). Her spirits, or messengers, are foxes, which supposedly hold the key to rice granaries in their mouths. I just like the bit about the foxes. Anyway, behind the shrine, there are hundreds of red gates (torii) lined up like dominoes, which are very impressive and picturesque. If you come to Kyoto , you must go.
Take bus to Gion, the old ‘geisha’ district of Kyoto, with visions of geisha dancing in our heads. Fail to spot a geisha but are too hungry to care. Eat okonomiyaki at a traditional-looking restaurant near a very beautiful stream and bridge.
Go to bed early, with plans to rise early to make the most of the day.
Sunday, September 23-
Miss the alarm; sleep in until 10. Abandon all hope of getting out early, knowing the reputations of two of our crew (they like to groom). Eat a combini (convenience store) breakfast on the way to first sight: Kinkakuji. This is the most well-known landmark in Kyoto . It’s a temple coated- COATED- in gold (Kin means gold). It’s a bit smaller than I imagined but absolutely stunning.
Take bus to second site, Ginkakuji. Gin means silver. But alas, it’s not coated in silver. The intention was there, but it never happened. Instead, (cue pretentious language) this temple has become an example of the wabisabi aesthetic- basically an idea of beauty that’s not about perfection, but about seeing beauty in imperfect, impermanent, incomplete things. The gardens surrounding the temple are beautiful; so cultivated- every branch and rock has been pruned or placed just-so, but it still manages to look natural. Personally, I found Ginkakuji just as, if not more, impressive than Kinkakuji, but in a different way.
…Continue our temple-crawl- onwards to Kiyomizudera (It means ‘clear water temple’. Little did we know, it was to live up to its name in an unexpected way). Anticipate the most breathtaking view in all of Japan , perhaps the world (the view has just been declared one of the new 7 wonders of the world, or something). Walk for 30 minutes through a cemetery, slowing developing the suspicion that we’re going the wrong way. Eventually arrive at the temple. Confirm that it’s beautiful. Look up as the heavens open and the first of many, many raindrops hit us. Look around at all the Japanese tourists, huddled under the sheltered parts, staring gloomily out. Decide we might as well look even weirder than we already do, and run through the rain to the temple. Look out at haze. Wonder if the view really is nice and decide we may never know. Get even wetter, running from one pagoda to another. Get separated. Call each other with instructions for how to find each other. Don’t find each other. Get literally pushed into the rain by grumpy Japanese woman trying to close up her souvenir shop. Leave the temple, this time walking the correct way down the hill, along with 10 000 other Japanese tourists. Finally give in a pay 400 yen each for an umbrella. Walk for another half hour to the bus. End up in Gion again.
Decide an sento (public bath) is what we need. Arrive at sento – boys and girls separate. Fumble around with our lockers et cetera for 10 minutes before we get up the courage to strip off. Enter bathing area, cover certain areas with our ‘dignity towel’. ‘ Wash ’ (whoops, forgot to bring soap!) before getting in the bath. Enter 50-degree water. Turn pink, but enjoy the feeling of having the top 2 layers of skin die. Move to outdoor bath. Notice old Japanese lady in bath. She notices us. She leaves.
After sento, find a random restaurant and eat. Go back to hotel. Fall asleep.
Monday, September 24
Awaken to the sound of loud American and Australian backpackers talking about nothing. Check out of hotel and take bus to Kyoto station. Find omiyage (souvenir) store and fork out 1000 yen for the obligatory edible presents all Japanese work colleagues expect upon one’s return from afar.Take train back to Gifu . Celebrate when we find the car still in the car park. Officially declare the trip a success!
Friday, September 28, 2007
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Ayu Party
I just came back from a very Japanese experience. Actually, a very Gifu experience. One of the Japanese teachers of English at my high school invited me and the other ALT, Khaleelah, to an ayu-eating party. What's ayu, you ask? It's 'sweet fish', a small river fish that is a speciality of this area. They like to boast that it only lives in clean water, hence the Nagaragawa River, which runs through Gifu, must be incredibly clean.
Anyway, this trip was interesting in more ways than one. Mari-sensei was supposed to pick me up at 4pm. A little after 4 I got a phone call. Her: 'Hello. Sorry I'm late.' Me: 'That's ok, no problem.' ....[silence]... Her: 'I'm waiting for you.' I hadn't seen a car pull up or anything. But I went outside, looking for her car, and 2 minutes later found it waiting at the corner 100 meters from my house. heh
After that we went to pick up Khaleelah, then took some very narrow roads towards what must be the wealthy area of Kakamigahara. We ended up stopped in front of a house. I guessed it must be her house, although she hadn't said anything about going there. The place was like a fortress. You would have though we were in South Africa, not Japan. There were rolls of barbed wire below the windows, a high fence, a metal gate with a chain and lock wrapped around it, and two burglar alarm lights. Mari-sensei pressed the intercom and after a full-on conversation with a man who I guessed must be her husband, he emerged from the house, unlocked and unwrapped the chain, and we were permitted to enter. We went into the house, changed shoes, as per usual, and walked into the living room. One object dominated the space- the TV. It was... monstrous. I can't think of a better word. Not big, not huge, monstrous. A plasma TV of 3 meters by 1.5 meters, I'd say. And appropriately for Japan, the baseball game was on. To the left of the couch was something that can only be described as an electronic horse saddle. It was a black leather, fake horse saddle, stirrups and all, mounted on an electronic base. No horse to be seen. Apparently some kind of exercise equipment. Maybe they watch footage of rolling hills on the plasma screen while they ride this thing, to imagine they're horse riding...? Anyway, after sitting and gawking at the TV for 5 minutes, Mari-sensei's husband announced it was time to go. I don't really know why we went to their house in the first place; maybe so they could let us see their TV and horse saddle!
We arrived at the riverside restaurant 40 minutes later and walked into a room full of Japanese sitting on the floor, obviously waiting to start eating. But of course they couldn't start until everyone was there (we were the last to arrive). I sat down next to Hiramitsu-san (Mari's husband), on my knees, so as to be polite, whereupon he immediately told me I could sit cross-legged (only Japanese men are supposed to do this). Considerate of him! After pouring our drinks and toasting ('Kampai!'), we tucked into the Ayu. All-in-all, we ate 6 fish each. The first pair of fish were simply grilled. The second were deep-fried and the third were coated in a miso sauce. They cook the fish bones, organs and all, and usually eat the head. I couldn't bring myself to do that, but the rest of the fish was delicious; it really does have a sweet taste. Of course, during the the meal, I was praised for my skillful use of chopsticks (if you are non-Asian and make any attempt to eat with chopsticks in Japan, someone will inevtiably tell you this). I was also asked if fish was daijoubu (ok). Um, yes.
In what must be true Japanese style, we came, we ate, we left. No languishing over beer or after-dinner chatting. You come to do the job, and when it's done, you go home. The drive there and back was as long as the meal itself.
Speaking of the drive, that was also interesting. Mari-sensei's car is unbelievable. It has a GPS navigation system and TV. It also tells you the mileage you have accomplished every 5 minutes. And best of all, it has a camera at the back so you can see what's behind you when reversing, and estimates the angle you will need to turn the wheel in order to clear things. Oh, and it's so quiet and smooth that it feels like you are in a hovercraft, not a car. Khaleelah and I joked that Honda, Toyota, etc. send their old, crap models to the West and keep the better ones for their own country. Another thing about the drive was that it was a team effort between Mr. and Mrs. Hiramitsu. She was driving, but he would tell her what to do every step of the way and say 'ok, ok, ok' if she was doing it right. And there didn't seem to be any complaining or sentiment of 'Shut up, I'm the driver' from Mari-san.
On the way back, we stopped at the Nagaragawa river in Gifu city, where they do cormorant fishing (ukai). This is an ancient tradition in which men go fishing off boats... BUT... they use birds (cormorants) to do the fishing for them! The birds do it for themselves naturally, but in cormorant fishing, about 8 of them at a time are tied onto leashes and when the dive for fish and bring them up, the fishermen take the fish. I don't understand why the cormorants cooperate, but they do. Some of the fish they catch are ayu, the very ones we ate tonight. Anyway, they still do some fishing the old way in Gifu, on long canoe-like boats, only at night, with a lantern of fire to light the way. And the fishermen wear the traditional clothes as well- including funny-looking elf-like hats. It's really almost a sacred practice, because you must be authorized by the emperor to do ukai, and positions are passed down through families. It's now big tourism business, so there were other boats following them with tourists on board. But when I saw the ukai-fishermen floating down the river with the flame guiding them, it looked kind of spooky and you could really imagine how it might have been 500 years ago or so.
So now I've eaten ayu and seen ukai! My Gifu experience is complete, at least according to the tourist brochures...
Anyway, this trip was interesting in more ways than one. Mari-sensei was supposed to pick me up at 4pm. A little after 4 I got a phone call. Her: 'Hello. Sorry I'm late.' Me: 'That's ok, no problem.' ....[silence]... Her: 'I'm waiting for you.' I hadn't seen a car pull up or anything. But I went outside, looking for her car, and 2 minutes later found it waiting at the corner 100 meters from my house. heh
After that we went to pick up Khaleelah, then took some very narrow roads towards what must be the wealthy area of Kakamigahara. We ended up stopped in front of a house. I guessed it must be her house, although she hadn't said anything about going there. The place was like a fortress. You would have though we were in South Africa, not Japan. There were rolls of barbed wire below the windows, a high fence, a metal gate with a chain and lock wrapped around it, and two burglar alarm lights. Mari-sensei pressed the intercom and after a full-on conversation with a man who I guessed must be her husband, he emerged from the house, unlocked and unwrapped the chain, and we were permitted to enter. We went into the house, changed shoes, as per usual, and walked into the living room. One object dominated the space- the TV. It was... monstrous. I can't think of a better word. Not big, not huge, monstrous. A plasma TV of 3 meters by 1.5 meters, I'd say. And appropriately for Japan, the baseball game was on. To the left of the couch was something that can only be described as an electronic horse saddle. It was a black leather, fake horse saddle, stirrups and all, mounted on an electronic base. No horse to be seen. Apparently some kind of exercise equipment. Maybe they watch footage of rolling hills on the plasma screen while they ride this thing, to imagine they're horse riding...? Anyway, after sitting and gawking at the TV for 5 minutes, Mari-sensei's husband announced it was time to go. I don't really know why we went to their house in the first place; maybe so they could let us see their TV and horse saddle!
We arrived at the riverside restaurant 40 minutes later and walked into a room full of Japanese sitting on the floor, obviously waiting to start eating. But of course they couldn't start until everyone was there (we were the last to arrive). I sat down next to Hiramitsu-san (Mari's husband), on my knees, so as to be polite, whereupon he immediately told me I could sit cross-legged (only Japanese men are supposed to do this). Considerate of him! After pouring our drinks and toasting ('Kampai!'), we tucked into the Ayu. All-in-all, we ate 6 fish each. The first pair of fish were simply grilled. The second were deep-fried and the third were coated in a miso sauce. They cook the fish bones, organs and all, and usually eat the head. I couldn't bring myself to do that, but the rest of the fish was delicious; it really does have a sweet taste. Of course, during the the meal, I was praised for my skillful use of chopsticks (if you are non-Asian and make any attempt to eat with chopsticks in Japan, someone will inevtiably tell you this). I was also asked if fish was daijoubu (ok). Um, yes.
In what must be true Japanese style, we came, we ate, we left. No languishing over beer or after-dinner chatting. You come to do the job, and when it's done, you go home. The drive there and back was as long as the meal itself.
Speaking of the drive, that was also interesting. Mari-sensei's car is unbelievable. It has a GPS navigation system and TV. It also tells you the mileage you have accomplished every 5 minutes. And best of all, it has a camera at the back so you can see what's behind you when reversing, and estimates the angle you will need to turn the wheel in order to clear things. Oh, and it's so quiet and smooth that it feels like you are in a hovercraft, not a car. Khaleelah and I joked that Honda, Toyota, etc. send their old, crap models to the West and keep the better ones for their own country. Another thing about the drive was that it was a team effort between Mr. and Mrs. Hiramitsu. She was driving, but he would tell her what to do every step of the way and say 'ok, ok, ok' if she was doing it right. And there didn't seem to be any complaining or sentiment of 'Shut up, I'm the driver' from Mari-san.
On the way back, we stopped at the Nagaragawa river in Gifu city, where they do cormorant fishing (ukai). This is an ancient tradition in which men go fishing off boats... BUT... they use birds (cormorants) to do the fishing for them! The birds do it for themselves naturally, but in cormorant fishing, about 8 of them at a time are tied onto leashes and when the dive for fish and bring them up, the fishermen take the fish. I don't understand why the cormorants cooperate, but they do. Some of the fish they catch are ayu, the very ones we ate tonight. Anyway, they still do some fishing the old way in Gifu, on long canoe-like boats, only at night, with a lantern of fire to light the way. And the fishermen wear the traditional clothes as well- including funny-looking elf-like hats. It's really almost a sacred practice, because you must be authorized by the emperor to do ukai, and positions are passed down through families. It's now big tourism business, so there were other boats following them with tourists on board. But when I saw the ukai-fishermen floating down the river with the flame guiding them, it looked kind of spooky and you could really imagine how it might have been 500 years ago or so.
So now I've eaten ayu and seen ukai! My Gifu experience is complete, at least according to the tourist brochures...
Friday, September 14, 2007
Maiden Blog Voyage
So, the first blog entry for my living/working/travelling in Japan experience. Where to start? I'm sitting in my tatami room with the laptop on (where else), my lap, having finally mustered up the courage to write about the not-so-momentous accumulation of events that is my life in Gifu, Japan. I guess I've avoided starting because I've felt like I needed something outrageous to happen before I could justify broadcasting it on the internet. But, having been here for over a month, I think I see a pattern emerging. And it's safe to say there that just like my life in Australia, there won't be many dramas to report. But my friends here (fellow JETs, ie. people on the JET Programme), they're another story. Just a sample:
-One JET jumped off a bridge into the river and did not execute the water-entry properly, fracturing his collar bone and bruising his kidneys (according to the japanese doctors);
-Another was involved in a small car accident in which paint was scraped off her car, after which she spent hours at the police station and hours more being berated by her supervisors for bringing shame upon herself, the school, all teachers, all JETs, all fellow Canadians, the prefecture, her students, the principal, the Board of Education, and probably the local monkey population too;
-Another is taking 3 kinds of medication, following the appearance of mysterious insect bites all over her body, ongoing digestion problems, and the swelling up of her lip to 4 times the size, which occured spontaneously at 4am one morning; -Yet another has returned home after only 1 month... apparently the JET Programme wasn't for her... a conclusion she conveniently reached immediately after the conclusion of all the new JET welcome events, parties and organized tours.
Anyway, I guess I can thank my lucky stars none of these calamities have befallen me. Still, maybe a minor disaster would be preferable to the rather predictable routine I have fallen into. An example of my day:Alarm goes off at 7:30; snooze til 7:40. Eat cereal from miniature box of 'genmai flakes' (I dont know what genmai is). Select work outfit from the 3 shirts and 2 pairs of pants I currently own. Get dressed. Pack bag with 5 English textbooks I meant to use for lesson-planning last night. Leave apartment; get on bike. Ride bike one of two routes to school: down the main street, where I'm stared at by the driver of every single passing car, or through the rice paddies, where I invariably take the wrong route and end up entering the driveway of a factory. Arrive at school 8:20. Pass soccer players changing shirts; get stared down. Park bike, walk to shoe sheds to change from 'outdoor' to 'indoor' shoes. Walk 20 meters on filthy concrete in 'indoor' shoes to get to school entrance. Enter school; greet fellow teachers chirpily. Enter staffroom; feel guilty for not bowing low enough to vice principal. Reach desk; greet different teachers. Put bag down, sit there fanning myself for 5 minutes because air conditioner has not been turned on- again. Wait for teachers' meeting to begin... will it? won't it? (it seems to occur on randomly chosen days and at 8:25 precisely). Sit, pretending to look interested even though everyone knows I can't understand what they're saying.I think that's enough of a taste for now. Next entry I'll lift the veil on the events of 9am to 4pm.
P.S. Don't think I'm not enjoying my time here; I AM. I'm just trying to demonstrate that my life here is not one big backpacking trip, but has the potential to be just as monotonous as life anywhere else... except at least it's an INTERESTING monotony!
-One JET jumped off a bridge into the river and did not execute the water-entry properly, fracturing his collar bone and bruising his kidneys (according to the japanese doctors);
-Another was involved in a small car accident in which paint was scraped off her car, after which she spent hours at the police station and hours more being berated by her supervisors for bringing shame upon herself, the school, all teachers, all JETs, all fellow Canadians, the prefecture, her students, the principal, the Board of Education, and probably the local monkey population too;
-Another is taking 3 kinds of medication, following the appearance of mysterious insect bites all over her body, ongoing digestion problems, and the swelling up of her lip to 4 times the size, which occured spontaneously at 4am one morning; -Yet another has returned home after only 1 month... apparently the JET Programme wasn't for her... a conclusion she conveniently reached immediately after the conclusion of all the new JET welcome events, parties and organized tours.
Anyway, I guess I can thank my lucky stars none of these calamities have befallen me. Still, maybe a minor disaster would be preferable to the rather predictable routine I have fallen into. An example of my day:Alarm goes off at 7:30; snooze til 7:40. Eat cereal from miniature box of 'genmai flakes' (I dont know what genmai is). Select work outfit from the 3 shirts and 2 pairs of pants I currently own. Get dressed. Pack bag with 5 English textbooks I meant to use for lesson-planning last night. Leave apartment; get on bike. Ride bike one of two routes to school: down the main street, where I'm stared at by the driver of every single passing car, or through the rice paddies, where I invariably take the wrong route and end up entering the driveway of a factory. Arrive at school 8:20. Pass soccer players changing shirts; get stared down. Park bike, walk to shoe sheds to change from 'outdoor' to 'indoor' shoes. Walk 20 meters on filthy concrete in 'indoor' shoes to get to school entrance. Enter school; greet fellow teachers chirpily. Enter staffroom; feel guilty for not bowing low enough to vice principal. Reach desk; greet different teachers. Put bag down, sit there fanning myself for 5 minutes because air conditioner has not been turned on- again. Wait for teachers' meeting to begin... will it? won't it? (it seems to occur on randomly chosen days and at 8:25 precisely). Sit, pretending to look interested even though everyone knows I can't understand what they're saying.I think that's enough of a taste for now. Next entry I'll lift the veil on the events of 9am to 4pm.
P.S. Don't think I'm not enjoying my time here; I AM. I'm just trying to demonstrate that my life here is not one big backpacking trip, but has the potential to be just as monotonous as life anywhere else... except at least it's an INTERESTING monotony!
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