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.

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.