Genki desu ka?

Today I had a health check at work, Japanese-style. Interesting experience. People were very nice about it, everyone was very polite and respectful, but overall, it was a little disconcerting.

It all started last week when I received a strange envelope from a colleague, who told me there would be a health exam on Tuesday. I opened the package to find 4 sheets covered in kanji, plus a small plastic container and bottle. I deduced that the bottle was for a urine sample, but everything else was a complete mystery.

Well, today rolled around, and before I knew it, I was in line for my first health check in Japan. After queuing up behind several other colleagues, I presented my chart to the health worker. Needless to say, I hadn’t filled in anything because I couldn’t read it, and no one had even mentioned that I needed to fill anything in! The principal was summoned and he kindly used his excellent English skills to translate for me. All the questions were about diet and exercise. Did I exercise 3 times a week? Did I drink less than 180ml of alcohol when I drank? Did I eat faster or slower than other people my age? Did I eat within 2 hours before bed?

I was then subjected to a chest x-ray, presumably to check for tuberculosis (which is apparently still a common health concern in Japan). The technician was male, and luckily I was wearing an undershirt, otherwise I would have had to be naked on top! Next was a waist measurement. Despite the fact that I am quite clearly not overweight, it had to be measured. (Japan is currently introducing nationwide waist measurement guidelines which everyone is supposed to conform to regardless of build, height, weight, etc.) In my haste to get dressed I forgot to tuck in my undershirt, which evoked an embarrassed giggle from the health check lady. She didn’t let me leave the room until I tucked it in.

Moving along the assembly line, I had my height and weight measured and entered into the computer to ensure I had a healthy BMI. Next were hearing and eye tests, and finally blood work. Being practically illiterate in Japanese, and not having had anyone inform me there would be a blood test, I didn’t know NOT to eat breakfast that morning. So my blood sample will undoubtedly show a high glucose reading and other such unacceptable things.

And- 終わります！(finished) I might mention that all of this, except the x-ray and waist measurement, was conducted in front of my workmates. Completely public. I personally didn’t have a problem with that, but there is little sympathy for people who might be embarrassed about their weight or anxious about medical tests. It felt a bit like boot camp induction.

I noticed that only the fairly young teachers were being tested today, so probably this round of checks is focusing on prevention of metabolic syndrome, or メタボ　(metabo) in Japanese. It’s their code word for being fat, having a bad diet and lack of exercise. I recently read an interesting article about the newest health campaign in Japan- the fight against metabo.(http://www.nytimes.com/2008/06/13/world/asia/13fat.html?_r=2&hp&oref=slogin&oref=slogin) The government is going to start fining local governments and companies whose people fail to meet national waist measurement guidelines. There’s a whole marketing system going on, complete with catchy songs:
"…at a city gym in Amagasaki recently, dozens of residents — few of whom appeared overweight — danced to the city’s anti-metabo song, which warned against trouser buttons popping and flying away, “pyun-pyun-pyun!”
“Goodbye, metabolic. Let’s get our checkups together. Go! Go! Go!
Goodbye, metabolic. Don’t wait till you get sick. No! No! No!”

While I’m talking about health campaigns- in Japan, standardized health information is periodically distributed to schools, offices and companies. There’s a bulletin board at my school on which different posters appear every so often, informing students and staff about health issues they should watch for. In summer it’s heat stroke and sunburn, in winter it’s frostbite, and the rest of the year, it’s things like athlete’s foot, muscle injuries, coldsores, TB, gum disease, HIV and various other intriguing conditions. Invariably, the posters feature cute cartoons right alongside very graphic photos.

On top of that, we are given health newsletters every two weeks, containing useful advice like what to eat for breakfast, how to stretch, and how to treat a cold. There seems to be a particular emphasis on maintaining a daily body rhythm (‘keeping it regular’)!

Of course I think that raising awareness of obesity and encouraging people to live healthy lives can only be a good thing. But it’s hard not to question the effectiveness of the campaign in Japan. True, there are few overweight people here, especially compared to countries like the US and Australia. But at the same time, I don’t feel that the Japanese really live particularly healthy lifestyles. They still eat bowls and bowls of white rice every day, drink like fish, eat few raw vegetables, and gorge on fast food. Fruit and vegetables are astronomically expensive. You will see people lining up at Mister Donut with trays piled high with donuts- 6 per person, even (or especially) for skinny little high school girls. I honestly don’t know how people stay so small and slim. All I know is that excessive dieting does not seem to be considered a bad thing. Women’s magazines recommend eating energy bars for breakfast, lunch and dinner. And since there seems to be little awareness or concern about eating disorders, I wouldn’t be surprised if half the girls in my classes were bordering on bulimic. Most of them swear they are ‘fat’, even though their legs are barely thicker than my arms.

In spite of all the apparent efforts to prevent diabetes, heart disease and stroke by controlling people’s waistlines, smoking is still prevalent here in Japan. There is no negative stigma attached to it. In that respect, Japan feels like a smoker’s paradise: there are smoking rooms everywhere, vending machines sell cigarettes on almost every corner, and smoking sections in restaurants tend to be bigger and nicer than non-smoking ones.

I can’t help but feel that this latest national health campaign is not only about making everyone healthier, but also about controlling people (all that work we did on Foucault’s ideas- http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michel_Foucault- in anthropology still haunts me). I won’t launch into a thesis, but I resent the fact that one’s workplace should be able schedule and control something as personal as a health exam. But, I guess maybe it’s preferable to having people avoid the doctor, and it’s nice that it’s free.

I’m sure in a few weeks I will receive another mysterious envelope containing reams of paper covered with kanji. And if it says I have TB or anaemia, who am I to know? Better brush up on that Japanese medical jargon!

No Mean Feet

So... remember that little bicycle incident I had back in March? Just before I left for Thailand? The one that gave me a bruised and bloodied left foot? Well, it turned out to be a significant handicap on my trip to Thailand. Yes, it was a wonderful trip. But there were definitely some hiccups along the way- for me, one BIG hiccup.

My foot was fine before I left for Japan- at least I thought so. But my second night in Thailand... well, let's just say I discovered the colours white, green and yellow. It was at Bangkok airport, waiting for our flight to Chiang Mai, that I decided to do something about it. We took the escalator down to the ground floor where the medical clinic was supposed to be. But it wasn't to be that easy. Two official-looking men with name-tags asked us where we were going. We told them "the medical clinic". They didn't seem to understand, so we were led over to another man with a clipboard. He started talking about accomodation. Obviously, they were hawkers looking for tourists to sucker into a hotel/tour deal. We got completely pissed off and walked away. Admittedly, they probably didn't know enough English to work out what we were saying, but what if it had been an emergency? They were leaching our time and our patience.

Eventually we found the medical clinic, and after a couple of scary moments- a VERY tight blood pressure cuff and previous patients' dirty bandages left in the sink - I was all patched up. I was given a 6-day prescription of antibiotics and strict instructions NOT to go swimming. Arghghgh! Perfect!
(But thank you very much Thailand, for your cheap prescriptions!)

I consoled myself with the knowledge that we were only going to Chiang Mai for the time being. There are no beaches there, and I could live without swimming in waterfalls and rivers. Of course, I avoided rafting like the plague. And showers.
Rafts, with me not on them.

By the time we arrived in Phuket, I was still on antibiotics and the situation wasn't much better. I went to the beach, where my attempts to avoid both sand and water provided hours of amusement for me and my friends.
Me not in the water.

The speedboat tour of the islands off Phuket had promised to be the highlight of the trip, but I was marooned on the boat for the entire trip. -Save for an eventful trip to shore which resulted in a wet foot and a panicked bandage-change over lunch. Watching my friends wade through the pristine turquoise waters and frolick on the beach was almost too much to bear. (Okay, I'm exaggerating!)
At least I still had my sense of sight.

Strolls along the main drag proved challenging too, since Thailand is well-equipped with open sewers (well, with grates on top), dripping drainpipes, and random puddles of dirty water. Not to mention stray dogs who, rumor has it, are no strangers to rabies. Normally, none of this would bother me much, but in my condition, I developed a slight paranoia and an aversion to walking long distances. I also suffered visions of diseases caused by flesh-eating tropical bacteria and of rabid Thai dogs approaching me and drooling on my foot... evidence of an ridiculously over-active imagination.

It wasn't long before I was a walking pharmacy. I was carrying all kinds of ointments and every size of bandaid available in Thailand. And I knew which chemist sold the best ones (Boots, in case you ever need to know).

Last stop: Koh Samui. It had been my Emerald City for the entire trip. Surely by Koh Samui, 2 weeks after the bike disaster, I would be recovered enough to swim!? Seems the gods (or maybe Buddha) had other plans. Despite my friend's urging that I should "just do it" and deal with the consequences later, I was a good girl and kept dry. I've discovered that if I think something is unattainable, I am quite good at avoiding temptation and ruling it out as an option (sometimes maybe to my own detriment).
My beach experience. Not too bad, all things considered.

So as a result of this unfortunate course of events, I have lots of photos of me fully clothed, on the beach. I suppose I should be grateful that I come from Australia and have had my fill of ocean swims. Even so, I fully intend to return to Thailand or a similarly gorgeous tropical paradise in the near future- and make swimming and snorkelling my top priorities.

Midori

I just had a very green weekend. No, I didn’t save the environment, but I appreciated it. For someone from Australia – currently drought-stricken and dry as a bone – Japan is incredibly, unbelievably green. It almost looks neon in some places. Especially now, with spring in full swing. Even my friend Julie, from Canada, insists that Japan’s green is much more vibrant than Canada’s green. Forget Ireland! My own town in Gifu is green(ish), and pretty in some places. But this past weekend I saw what are surely three of Japan’s most beautiful places.

First, there was Shirakawa-go: home of the world-heritage-listed gassho houses. (Which, as I described in a earlier blog, look like gingerbread cottage houses.) It was my second trip up there; last time I went in autumn. I really think it is best viewed in spring, although I’m sure the village looks amazing after a fresh snow fall too. Anyway, it was a typical rainy spring day when we arrived. There were fresh leaves and newly-blooming flowers everywhere.


I know it’s a cliché, but there’s really something about drops of water on foliage that makes me feel so clean and refreshed.


Sleeping next to the window that night in my friend’s house, I fell asleep to the sounds of frogs and trickling water… nature’s lullaby!

On Sunday we drove up to Kanazawa, near the Sea of Japan. We visited Kenroku-en Garden, considered one of Japan’s top three gardens. It’s supposed to encapsulate six ideal qualities: spaciousness, seclusion, air of antiquity, ingenuity, flowing water, and views. Not being a Zen scholar, I’m not sure I can comment on all that, but it sure was exquisite. And, of course, intensely green.





Finally, we stopped at Eihei-ji, which has been Japan’s most active Zen meditation monastery for over 400 years. It was maybe the most beautiful place I’ve seen in Japan so far. The ancient trees, moss, ferns, mist and dim light all came together to create an atmosphere like something out of Lord of the Rings. We arrived at the end of the day, so my three friends and I had it all to ourselves.


From afar, Japan tends to be viewed as somewhat of an urban wasteland (albeit an obsessively clean, orderly one). Despite the face that I live in the inaka (countryside), I still get this impression. Every square inch seems to be occupied in some way- by a house, rice field, shrine, vending machine, combini, train station... But this weekend reminded me that landscapes don’t have to be undisturbed to be beautiful. I'm not the first to say that the Japanese are experts at working with nature to create beautiful spaces.

Places Where Dreams Come True

Japan is the land of theme parks. There’s Disneyland and Universal Studios and Huis ten Bosch (replicates Dutch villages), Parque Espana (replicates Spain) and Meiji Mura (recreates Japan in the Meiji period) and… the list goes on and on:
http://www.tjf.or.jp/eng/content/japaneseculture/31themepark.htm
I guess it must be the Japanese preference for controlled environments that makes them particularly successful here. You can pretend you went somewhere (America, Holland, Spain, back in time) without actually doing it, and without having to deal with complicated travel plans, culture shock, or too many gaijin. And look kawaii while doing it!

Already, since I’ve been here, I’ve visited five amusement parks: Little World, Tobu World Square, Tokyo Disneysea, Japan Monkey Park and Sweet Castle. And I’m not particularly obsessed with theme parks; it’s just that they seem to present themselves as entertainment options so frequently that eventually you find yourself giving in and going.

When my friend and I went to Tokyo around New Year’s, we knew we had to make a stop at one of the Disney parks… but since there are two, we had to choose. Disneyland is obviously the more conventional option, a clone of the Californian version. We decided to break with tradition and visit DisneySEA instead, since it was supposed to be “more adult” (not in a risqué way, though!). The whole place was designed with a seafaring/aquatic theme in mind, and turned out to be more enjoyable than I expected. There were no Mickeys or Donald Ducks running around, which suited me perfectly since I find those characters a bit too manically happy. But there were plenty of Japanese people of all ages and genders wandering around with furry Disney-character hats on, which in itself would have been enough amusement for one day.


The town of Inuyama, only 15 minutes by train from where I live, seems to be somewhat of a theme park mecca in Japan. It has at least four amusement parks: Little World, Monkey Park, Sweet Castle and Meiji Mura (I’ve visited the first three). Little World turned out to be sort of a disappointment because it wasn’t the miniature world I imagined- just some replicas of traditional buildings from around the world. The selection of locations was bizarrely random, too: Okinawa, Nepal, Thailand, Ghana, Italy and Germany. However, Tobu World Square in Nikko, which I went to later, fulfilled all my dreams of seeing tiny versions of famous landmarks and taking surreal photos of them.

My visit to Monkey Park (Japan’s biggest!) last weekend is what prompted this whole blog entry. I went with three other friends from JET who, like me, have retained the ability to act unapologetically immature when necessary. The first indication that we would need to revert back to childhood to fully enjoy the park came when we noticed that everyone else there was either a 3-year old child or the parent of a 3-year-old. In other countries, you might expect a zoo specializing in monkeys to be relatively scientific and convey messages of environmental conservation etc… but Japan Monkey Park is more like the name suggests- a monkey theme park. There were mechanical animals to ride, miniature trains to sit in, ice cream and beer to buy, and various other rides to enjoy… that we were too big to fit on.

In addition to these stellar attractions, there were, of course, monkeys. Hundreds of monkeys from seventy-three different species. Some were in antiquated cages with concrete and bars, others were in what I call ‘monkey pits’, still others had jungle gyms and wooden bridges to play on, and some lucky ones were roaming free in their own mini-jungle. A stand-out memory was “Monkey Valley”, where several macaques were sitting on posts about 4 meters above the ground, clapping their hands (see picture below) so that the spectators would throw treats at them… which the monkeys would then try to catch by leaning out from their perch. At least the treats were apparently healthy (not popcorn or other junk).

A couple of monkeys also practically launched themselves at us, in the enclosures which weren’t actually enclosed- the squirrel monkey island and the lemur colony.

The baboon pit held our attention for more than a few minutes. Actually, though, I think the monkeys were doing pretty well socially, given how overcrowded the enclosures seemed.

After Monkey Park we decided to further indulge our immature side by visiting Sweet Castle. It’s marketed as being “filled with a sweet aroma”, but I guess we arrived too late that day since we missed out on both the smell and the baking activities they offer there. We did get to marvel at the splendor of the castle’s architecture, Cinderella’s glass slipper and the 14.2m tall sugar cake (which I suspect is actually made of cardboard with a few sugar decorations stuck on). We also saw the ‘Santa and his sleigh’ statue outside the castle, which is there all year long… further evidence that Japan does not understand Christmas at all. Ultimately, all we really cared about was the sweets smorgasboard, where we gorged on mousse, cake, crepes, fairy floss and parfait (it WAS a birthday celebration, after all).

If I don’t visit another theme park while I’m here in Japan I’ll be very surprised.

Thailand I: Took a Tuk Tuk

Last week I returned from a two-week holiday in Thailand. It was quite an affecting trip in many ways, both positive and negative. It was my first trip outside the so-called ‘developed’ world, and while I’m wary of seeming politically incorrect or snobby even bringing it up, that fact definitely can’t be ignored. I will probably milk this trip for all it’s worth on my blog, since there are so many things I saw and experienced in Thailand that are worth commenting on.

I went with another ALT friend, Julie, and her boyfriend, Duane, who met us in Bangkok after flying in from Canada. Our trip turned out to be a typical ‘clueless tourists do Thailand’ holiday. We had originally planned to do a few days of volunteering to compensate for what was going to mainly be a beach holiday. But those plans fell through due to logistical reasons and the general (perhaps selfish) consensus that since we couldn’t spend more than two days volunteering it wouldn’t be worth it since we probably wouldn’t have much of an impact. So we decided to keep our save-the-world ambitions for another time and another trip.

We picked the perfect place to 'find ourselves' as tourists. Tourism makes a bigger contribution to the Thai economy than that of any other Asian country. And people working in this industry in Thailand certainly know how take advantage of tourists, in more ways than one! All three of us were aware of the Thailand’s various tourist scams, and we felt that we were adequately prepared to avoid and deflect any attempts to ensnare us. But despite our best efforts, we, like the naïve westerners we were, managed to get tuk-tuk-napped on our very first day in Bangkok.

Tuk tuks (named after the sound they make) are the infamous small ‘taxis’ that zip through traffic in cities all over Thailand. Riding in one is a pretty exhilarating experience. They aren’t quite cars, but aren’t motorbikes or scooters either… Wikipedia calls them ‘auto rickshaws’, which sounds like an apt description. Technically they’re tricycles (!), since the driver steers with handlebars, not a steering wheel.


Prices are usually set by bartering, not by meter. So we were kind of wary of tuk-tuks to begin with. After visiting the Grand Palace (huge, stunning and gold), we had planned to see the Reclining Buddha (also huge, stunning and gold). Of course this involved unfurling our huge map of Bangkok right on the corner of a busy intersection. We were too hot, too sweaty, and too naïve to bother trying to be any more discreet. Plus, by this stage we were getting comfortable with our tourist status and didn’t see the point in feigning street-smarts.

Within a few seconds we were approached by a very friendly, very smiley Thai man who spoke excellent English and asked where we were from and where we wanted to go. I was suspicious, but we told him anyway. He told us which direction the Reclining Buddha was in and then proceeded to inform us that we wouldn’t be able to see it until after 4pm that day since the monks were having a special ceremony for the King’s sister, who had just died. Instead, he advised, there were a number of other sights we could visit, including the Sitting Buddha and the Standing Buddha. Oh, and had we heard of ‘Voglee’? No, we hadn’t. Apparently it was a wonderful silk market and was on the way to one of the million other Buddha statues we ‘needed’ to see. He drew it on the map for us and then outlined a route which would allow us to see everything we wanted before 4pm. The man was so friendly that I found myself doubting my initial instinct that he was going to try to get money out of us. I wasn’t even suspicious when he claimed he was an ex-monk. And we all scurried away obediently when he told us, ‘Quick! Get in that tuk-tuk there on the corner! It will take you to the sights. A very low price for you! Don’t pay more than 40 bhat.’

To start off, the tuk-tuk driver took us straight to our desired destination, of course… to gain our trust. A couple of Buddha statues later, we returned to the tuk-tuk to find our driver waiting. ‘Sorry,I go to toilet now’, he said. We thought this a little strange since he had been waiting for us for around 20 minutes and had had plenty of time to relieve himself. But we stayed put anyway and waited for him in the tuk-tuk.

By and by, another friendly, smiley Thai man speaking excellent English greeted us from the car next to us. “Where you from?” he asked. (I have since become highly suspicious of anyone using this as their opening line!) After exchanging small talk about the weather and our trip plans, he asked us if we knew about ‘Voglee’. All we knew was that it was a silk shop, we said. This was his cue to talk it up: it was very cheap; only just opened to tourists; today was the last day of a massive sale; and oh yeah, he had been there with his mother just yesterday! Surprise, surprise, immediately upon completion of this spiel, our trusty driver returned from his 15-minute ‘toilet break’. “Take us to Voglee!” we chimed.

The second we pulled up to the building, it clicked: we were in the middle of one of Thailand’s finest scams. The silk market we had envisioned was actually a kind of seedy suit shop with a few hot and bothered European tourists milling around outside. A nervous Indian guy showed us to a room and made us look through some catalogues. We flicked through for a few minutes and then decided to just straight out say we weren’t interested. This was the turning point. After our escape from Voglee, we were ready to see more Buddhas and ONLY Buddhas. No more silk!

“Did you buy anything?” our driver asked. No. “Why you not buy something?” Because we didn’t want anything. We could tell our driver was frustrated. He seemed to be stewing about it, and looking at his expression in the rearview window I almost felt sorry for him, because he was looking incredibly stressed and anxious. Soon enough he stopped by the side of the road. “Now what?” we wondered. “I take you silk shop and jewellery shop. ” “Ah, no…” we protested. “Very nice, very cheap, special for you.” Then he came clean with us. If we spent just 8 minutes in the shop, he could get a free petrol token from the shop. But we had to pretend to be interested, ask questions, look at the pictures. Plus, our entire tuk-tuk ride / tour / scam would be free if we just went to these shops. We felt sorry for him and he WAS finally being honest, so we agreed. But only if he promised to take us to the Golden Mount straight afterwards. Well, we went to our second silk shop of the day and pretended to be interested, inquiring about the sizing, styles, and prices of the clothes they could make. We had a good laugh thinking about how this entire operation was a scam from every angle- everyone was playing a role, us included. The jewelry store was semi-enjoyable since they had some nice souvenirs and there were lots of pretty shiny things for us to look at. And in the end we did get dropped off at the Golden Mount… but so much for the rest of our tour. Our driver had deserted us! He was nowhere to be found. We weren’t particularly surprised, though, after all that had happened.

In the end, we didn’t even mind having been victims of the Great Tuk-Tuk Scam (which I’ve since found described on the internet, exactly like what we experienced). It was interesting to see how it operated and even more interesting to realize that skeptics like us could be roped into it. We were pretty clueless regarding what we wanted to do in Bangkok anyway, so it wasn’t like we missed out anything. And we got to see several sights for free… Except we never DID get to the Reclining Buddha!

Bike Dramas

I'd been debating whether or not to write a post about my Lake Biwa cycling experience, but the most recent development in my life has prompted me to go ahead and write one without further delay. Today, riding home from work on my bike, I passed a couple of students from my school. They turned out to be some of the more friendly ones, and their enthusiastic "herro"s prompted me to be friendly also, so I asked them a few simple questions in English. In hindsight, this was a mistake. Noble, but a mistake nonetheless. Riding a bike on a busy road while talking to people behind you is not a smart idea. After being overtaken by an annoyed housewife in an SUV (yes, they exist even in space-starved Japan), and realizing I had better just pay attention to where I was riding, I slammed into a rock by the roadside. Well, "sustained scraping" might be a better description. I could feel excruciating pain in my foot almost immediately, but not wanting to scare the students or make a scene, I simply yelled 'ow!' a few times (instead of the choice words I'm accustomed to using) and carried on. Of course I couldn't think of any more questions to ask the girls after that, and was grimacing all the rest of the way home.

Needless to say, I have been lying with my leg elevated for the last 2 hours, trying to keep the purple golf ball (a.k.a. swelling and bruising)on my foot from getting any bigger. So instead of doing all the productive things I planned to do today after work, I am forced to lie here and reminisce about the Lake Biwa ride...

It sounded wonderful, in theory. And ultimately, I'm glad I did it. The idea was to cycle around Lake Biwa over a weekend (and to fundraise for Cambodian children, at that!). I just wish I had had a more realistic picture of what it would entail. Sure, I knew I was cycling 160km (100 miles) around Japan's Biggest Lake(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lake_Biwa). But JAPAN- how big could it be, in this land of minatures? And actually, it wasn't the length of the journey that was the problem. It was my bike... and a case of 'modern Japan strikes again'. The bike rental place did not make much of an attempt to size our bikes for us. Basically they gave us a bike and we got on it. I put my seat up before I began, but that was it. So one hour into the journey, I was starting to fear the worst- that my bike seat was going to beat my behind into a pulp. By hour 2, I started to realize that in addition, my handlebars were way too low. So low that I couldn't breathe properly because I was practically bent double.


Me looking way happier with my bike than I actually was (note the sweater used as padding).

The other unexpected negative aspects of the trip were the scenery and road quality... or lack of them, in places. Being from Australia, I've come to expect a certain amount of unspoiled scenery when I do things outdoors. But, hiking or biking in modern Japan, the most you can reasonably expect are fairly fleeting, postage-stamp-sized windows of beauty now and then. That in itself definitely has a certain charm...


But somehow on the trip I found myself enduring way too many moments of annoyance and fear when riding along busy highways or through tunnels, with trucks and motorbikes zooming past. It definitely couldn't be helped; I'm sure the route we took was the best possible, but it was just a reflection of how urbanized Japan is.

That said, there were plenty of pretty spots along the way- especially since it was still cherry-blossom season in that area of Japan. Another issue, though, was the time limit we had and the fact that my group of friends and I were so far behind the others that we had little time for photos. I will never be a speed-demon, that's for sure!

**By the way, I don't want this to come across as a whine or rant. And I'm embellishing a little bit... none of this was by any means the hardest thing I've done. (Although at the time I swore it was!) And also, I feel lucky that I even had the chance to do this trip. But if I didn't exaggerate a bit, this blog entry would read, 'Last weekend I rode around Lake Biwa. It was pretty and we had good weather.'**

So, two facts about Japan unite these cycling experiences:
1. Japan is suffering from overdevelopment.
2. Despite my cautious nature, I am becoming overconfident in my cycling abilities here.

If it wasn't for point 1, maybe today I could have actually rode on a footpath rather than the road, or had more room to ride, and therefore saved my foot. If it wasn't for point 2, I never would have attempted to talk and bike at the same time.

Regarding Lake Biwa, if it wasn't for point 1, I may have had the 'communing with nature' experience I anticipated. If not for point 2, I wouldn't have attempted to ride around Japan's biggest lake in 2 days on a bike designed for a Japanese child.

But, thanks to these two facts, I am now blessed with interesting memories, a limp, and an exquisitely-composed, extremely riveting blog entry. Makes it all worthwhile.

Season of Change

April really is a time for new beginnings in Japan. We go on and on about the New Year back home, but it pales in significance compared to what is effectively the New Year in Japan- April 1st. (The New Year in Australia is particularly uneventful given that at least half the urban population is lying on the beach for the whole first half of January!)

April in Japan is the beginning of the new school year, the new fiscal year for the government, the new work year, and the season of sakura. Most companies have one big intake of new employees per year- in April. I’ve heard that this really puts the pressure on new university graduates as far as job-hunting goes, because they only have one chance per year- if they are not successful for April entry to a company, that’s their opportunity gone for that year.

To add to all this, Japan has a monopoly on ‘new beginnings’ symbolism- the importance of sakura here really cannot be overemphasized. I was talking with another teacher the other day about new school years and she said that Japan will never change its school/work year schedule because people feel that graduation and commencement ceremonies just would not be the same without sakura around. In March, clothing stores start to sell outfits meant specifically for wearing to the numerous ceremonies that take place around this time. Without fail, the displays will incorporate faux sakura. My local mall has a special sakura indoor ‘park’- some park benches and fake grass under the branches of some erstaz cherry trees. Ironically, the real thing is only a 5 minute drive away. But it just goes to show how important it is for Japanese people to be surrounded by as much sakura as possible during late March and early April! Cherry blossom season is such a big deal that I see it as the reason why Easter has never taken off here. True, Japan isn't a Christian country, but that hasn’t stopped them flogging Christmas for all it’s worth. So I was a little surprised that I didn’t see an emergence of bunnies/chicks/eggs/tulip decorations in stores during March (just like I saw an abundance of Halloween decorations in October and Christmas trinkets in December). But now I realize that the national sakura obsession means there’s no room for anything else!

With the approach of the new school year, there have been lots of changes at work. Firstly, every year on a certain day in March, teachers are informed of their placements for the next year. They have just over two weeks until they will be teaching at their new school. Teachers seem to have little control over where they work- the prefectural (state) Board of Education shuffles them around every few years. It almost seems like they are in the military in that sense; theoretically a teacher could be moved to any school in the prefecture, and if that happens to be far away, they might have to uproot their whole family to go work at whatever school the bigwigs have chosen. The average stay for a teacher in one school is three years, but the more experienced they are, the longer they tend to stay. Younger teachers tend to be placed in more rural (ie. less desirable) areas.

A grand total of 17 teachers (out of 40) were transferred from my school in March. This is the biggest staff change-over in school lore. One of the transferred teachers was one of my favourite JTEs(Japanese Teacher of English), Yamada-sensei. He was a very warmhearted guy who was so kind that he had a hard time even telling students off for using cell phones in class. (This of course caused problems of its own – the students walked all over him - but he was a very nice man). No one wanted him to leave, least of all him. He was transferred from our school (a so-called ‘Super English School’ because it has a special English program), with 12 English staff, to a technical high school (focusing on electronics) with only 4 English teachers. Sounded like a demotion to me! At the farewell party, Yamada-sensei told me and the other ALT (with tears in his eyes!) that we were the best ALTs he’d ever worked with, and made us promise to visit him if we ever returned to Japan after JET.

Another of my favourite JTEs, Hiramitsu-sensei (the one who invited me over for seafood feasts) retired. She’s an incredibly youthful woman who vows to spend her retirement mastering the saxophone, doing Yoga, reading and traveling.

With the departure of 17 teachers came the arrival of 17 new teachers from various schools around Gifu prefecture. Plus a new principal, who has turned out to be very friendly and superb at English (almost native level!). Such comings and goings are officially marked by school closing and opening ceremonies... which are less than 2 weeks apart. And which, from my perspective, were practically identical: a ridiculous amount of standing, bowing, sitting, and a few speeches (of which I understood only a few words). Unlike elementary and junior high ceremonies, some of which I hear involve talent-show-esque performances by teachers in an attempt to win over the students, senior high ceremonies are dull affairs indeed. The opening ceremony actually felt a lot like church to me, minus the music (unless you count the school song), gilded robes (everyone wears a black suit)and stained-glass windows (it was held in the gym).


Closing ceremony of 2007 school year, March- saying farewell to the teachers who have been transferred. Had me on the edge of my seat.


Opening ceremony of 2008 school year, April- welcoming the new teachers. Wow, so drastically different to anything I'd ever experienced before. I had no idea what was coming next.

The other big new-year-related change is the annual desk migration. About half the desks in my staff room now have ‘strangers’ sitting at them. We ALTs seem to remain eternally banished to the back corner of the staff room, but my supervisor was moved to a staff room in another building. Well, she's now my ex-supervisor. As of April 1 I have a new supervisor, who's a new teacher that I’ve barely spoken three words to. I don’t even know which office he’s in! I simply heard by word-of-mouth that he’s my new supervisor; we have never been introduced. I suppose I should have figured out by now that if I want to know something, I have to ask, because it’s rare for my colleagues to approach me with information. In Japan especially, I think there is the attitude that unless it's absolutely necessary, giving information is intruding or imposing in some way. Having said that, what I liked about my old supervisor was her approachability and willingness to keep me informed of things. I just have a feeling that my new supervisor might be a little lacking in that department.

Anyway, good, bad, or neutral, I'll adapt. After all, as the sakura tell us, nothing endures, everything is transient.