Thursday, September 23, 2010

We don`t need no education.

My school
(1)Jump out of the little blue Honda, (2) swap outdoor flip flops for indoor shoes, (3) feel a special bond with Surfer-Sensei (so named for his impressive collection of billabong shirts) who also shuns socks in the fiery blaze that is Japanese summer, (4) run up the stairs to the staff room, (5) greet any students I meet with a `good morning`, every now and then substitute with `what up ladies`, get a response of ferocious giggling, (6) Open the door with a loud `Ohayo gozaimasu` (good morning), (7) get back a few mumbles of Ohayo or gozaimasu, (8) sit at desk, (9) stand up and bow when the bell rings for the start of morning meeting, (10) understand nothing said at morning meeting, (11) Start the day.



My coordinates on the map of education has me sitting between Math-Sensei who always expresses great amusement when I proudly tell him the new Japanese words I had learned the previous night while watching TV, as they are almost always words used exclusively by men, and my favorite English teacher. I value Life-saver-sensei more than world of warcraft gold and do not know what I would do without her. Not only does she teach me Japanese, like the kanji for beef so I don`t order liver by mistake but also imparts some slices of sage advice on me, like the fact that cotton tofu is better for frying and silk tofu is best eaten plain. She is also an invaluable teammate while playing Japan`s national sport of bureaucracy.

Silken on the left (Kinugoshi), Cotten on the right (Momen)

Every Tuesday and Thursday we are graced with the presence of snack-time-sensei who instituted the practice of 3-lunch-Tuesday followed closely by 3-lunch-Thursday (We literally eat 3 lunches that day). We all put out our bento (lunch boxes) at the same time and Snack-time-sensei adds whatever food she had cooked that day. It is a hit and miss game that has had me enjoying noodles wrapped in flatbread to planning an escape strategy for octopus on a stick. As snack-time-sensei is also the art teacher, I have been drawn twice and even Roland has been thrown under the paintbrush one afternoon after school. Snack-time-sensei kept muttering about how Japanese men just don`t strike a perfect profile without such a good nose.

Free Japanese pears (Nashi) from a kind teacher
Rooibos tea that I brought for the teachers (one of them made the sign to explain to the other teachers)

There is a fair amount of prep work that goes into entertaining 15 classes a week for an hour at a time. My five English teachers all have different styles and requirements that range from very specific, like `today Furiida Sensei let`s listen to a song and fill in the blanks, please find a suitable song and create a few activities, to `today Furiida Sensei lets have fun. I teach 1st, 2nd and 3rd year senior high school kids ranging from sugary sweet girls to sleepy third years and a few rowdy little characters who are not aware of the fact that I am used to South African kids and so their best efforts come across as chatty with a sprinkle of bad English jokes. My two favorite little chancers call themselves Antonio and King Bob. I have six 1st year classes and all of them are super genki (lively). They all fall head over heels for the games we play and scramble to get the right answers so that they can obtain the holy grail of rewards I employ in my arsenal of motivation: the passport stamp. Collect enough stamps and you are on your way to prize town on a train filled with World cup merchandise and beaded key chains.


My student`s passports
Most classes are a joy and I just have to ask and participation flows like Sake (rice wine) but there is one class that is all boys, except for one poor girl, who also happens to be 3rd years, the most overworked, shy, to-cool-for-school and sleepy year of all. Here I have to really jump up and down and make sure that the lessons do not require any questions directed to the class in general, for all that will greet me if I were to ask anything at all would be that proverbial cricket who usually chirps to let you know just how silent it all just became. Lucky for me this is far from the norm and most of my time is spent pretending to be Cleopatra, playing word bingo, destroying enemy team`s castles or drawing pictures of vocabulary words at the speed of me eating a bag of nick naks.

Before you know it, the clock strikes 4:15 and its home time again. (1) Pack up bag filled with little white boards bought at 100 yen store, prestic and SA flags designed to be placed on the castles I draw for a game of the same name, (2) Stay a little longer than required since it is rude to leave early, although I sincerely doubt my five minute effort is even scratching the surface of diplomacy, (3) Stand at the door and say `otsukaresama deshita` (thank you for the hard work), (4) Swap in and outdoor shoes, (5) get into the little blue Honda, (6) wave at Grumpy-but-loves-crackers-sensei, (7) Start the next mini adventure.

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

I will have two more prawn tempura Mr Shinkansen


So there we were, two little river rafters bound by an inflatable dinghy and undiluted terror. Well if I am honest the terror tipped the scale more to my side, while more of an enjoyable rush weighed down Roland`s. Imagine if you will, a super tube big enough to accommodate two people on a rubber duck with two holes cut out for two bums, now have that ride take as long as Roland ordering something from a menu and have it twist and turn along the outside of the building, oh and before I forget, paint it all pitch black. You would think that being tossed and turned while absolutely blind, at an insane speed would be enough to terrify Roland, but alas, while I was scared to the point of not even screaming, the only thing my senses picked out of the abyss was the sound of giggling coming from the blond sitting in front of me.

Out of the five super tubes we braved that day, the aforementioned monster was by far the worst and while it was terrifying, it was also exhilarating enough for me to ride that Kraken of the super slide world twice.

The American/Japanese/South African alliance.

The emperor was kind enough to give us Monday off to pay our respects to the aged and so we scored a 3 day weekend. We made the most of Saturday and went to see some tame monkeys that roam around Takasaki Mountain and invited 3 Nakatsu residents to come keep us company for the next 2 days. Our Sunday was spent going up a mountain (just noticed we had quite a thing for mountains this weekend) in a cable car, along a very long ropeway. It was pretty damn high but it is impossible to panic while they pump out Disney music and light jazz all the way to the top. I am not going to lie to you, the view was something else and the only thing that broke the spell was my eventual shouting that I could see my house from there (in my defense I really could see my house). Thanks to one of our guest`s Japanese skills we all drew our fortunes from the little shrine right at the top of the mountain as he translated. Mine was ok but for the second time in a row Ducky got one of the worst fortunes on offer and while she did tie it to a pole to dispel the bad voodoo a wasp followed her and only her for a good 10 minutes.

Getting our fortunes on.
Near the cableway we discovered a little tucked away restaurant and all feasted on rice, onion, beef and broth in different combinations and cooking styles. That evening we all went to my favorite Korean restaurant and Roland and I confidently ordered the wrong thing. Said wrong thing turned out to be pretty good but the party really got started when the right thing finally made an appearance. We love that place so much that Roland has said that the best Japanese food he has had so far has been Korean.
On Monday the South African-American alliance made our way to Umitamago, our aquarium named, sea egg. Here we heard as many sugoi`s (awesome) as we did tabetai`s (want to eat) and if I were any of those fishies I would count my lucky fins that there was a plate of glass separating me from the tourists. I have to admit that when lunchtime strolled over we were all ready to swap the live fish for some of their rice and soy sauce covered cousins. We stopped at sushi train, where a little Shinkansen (bullet train) delivers what you ordered. After stacking up a decent amount of plates it was time for Aquabeat, or as I like to call it, the waterlogged hall of horrors.



Ok, ok I have been known to exaggerate a teeny tiny bit so in all fairness it was not that scary. They have a wave pool and lazy river for those incurable scaredy cats such as myself and the onsen and Jacuzzi really hit the spot after all that sliding and screaming. We were literally the last 5 people out of the pool and while old langsyne was playing as the goodbye music all the staff lined up to bow and say thank you

The next day I served as a judge at a speech competition and tomorrow is autumn equinox day or as Roland and Ducky call it, wooden roller-coaster day. I will be buying a grandma ticket since even the kiddy rides at the theme park we wish to visit would give me post traumatic stress syndrome. I will let you know if those two daredevils make it alive.

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

An impossible view and an impractical drink.



I will be telling you nothing new by saying that Japan is one massive contradiction. You have heard it before and you will hear it again but that does not tarnish the truth of the statement at all. One minute you are walking, with hair straightened, new sunnies resting on your head, past inventions you have literally never seen before and fashion you have never imagined before in a 6 story shopping plaza that laughs heartily at our malls and the next you are just left of the middle of nowhere, standing on a dam wall decorated with Japanese mythology, drinking a fizzy drink introduced in 1876.


In the battle for my attention, modernity is doing its best to lure me to its side. Shopping in Japan is an art and I am fast becoming a great master. My preferred palette is usually colored in the shades of food. Everything is exciting and tasty and comes in either strawberry or melon. The bread tastes like cake and the cake tastes like heaven. You can choose between 6 or 4 slices as your loaf of bread and they only come in one variation: impossibly thick. They are the kind of slices that only my dad can slice (however, they don`t always have jam on them when given as school lunches, even though my sister and I both don`t eat the stuff). My toaster would never accept this breads advances and I have trouble fitting it in my lunchbox, which is the size of a 2 liter ice-cream tub. The sheer amount of variety leaves your head spinning and not an evening goes by without Roland and me walking to the convenience store to try a new desert. 

Shopping in Japan

We have points cards for Mr Donut, Tokiwa (grocery store), three hardware stores, two furniture stores and the Max Value where you can buy cans of sodas for 29 yen and tofu for 40 yen (that’s about R4 baby). We even have a card to take out DVD`s near our house even though it almost killed the shopkeeper to explain the terms and conditions to us in his best English and most simple Japanese. For all I know the conditions could say that after failing to return any DVD`s they are entitled to me washing their car and giving Roland over as their new personal slave

The other side of the coin is nicely illustrated by how Ducky, Roland and I spent our lazy Sunday. We drove into the jungles of Kunisaki and found the most incredible spot. It was a huge dam wall, surrounded by forests with a view of rice paddies and little Japanese style homes, stone tile roofs and all. Next to it was a tunnel through the mountain that had a chilling echo and Roland could not resist belting out an evil laugh every few seconds. While standing on the wall, admiring the mythological scenes depicted with mosaic all around us, we drank our first bottle of ramune. This 134 year old soft drink has a strange bottle neck that has a marble resting on it. The aim of the game is to pop the marble down into the neck of the bottle and then, if you are not a world class ramune drinker, spray it all over yourself.


Other contrasts appear every minute of every day. Girls here always have their shoulders covered, there is not a spaghetti strap in sight and even short shorts are an endangered species in the 35 degree heat but then there are about 4 love hotels from my house to Ducky`s and very naughty reading material right next to the morning paper.
My school has the fastest internet in the world, literally, but computers so old that I saw `Fred Flintstone was here`, carved on one of them. The paper cutting machine in my office is so advanced that you need a degree in engineering to start it but they hang everything on the walls with sticky tape and stare with slack jawed amazement at my Prestic. I can buy a CD player for the price of four oranges and a digital camera for the price of anything made of wood or stone. I have decided not to pass away while in Japan because a gravestone is the price of a sports car.

It is scary how much fun I am having, my job is more hectic than I thought it would be but it is far from being the salt mines. I will tell you all a bit more about teaching when I get the chance. Oh and thank you for leaving comments, I read them all and miss you guys a whole bunch.

Thursday, September 9, 2010

Why can`t I find Orion`s belt.



Walk, walk, walk, bow, Roland says konbanwa (good evening), I say konnichiwa (good afternoon), the little Japanese lady replies with konnichiwa, I smile, walk, walk, walk, bow, we both say konnichiwa, the man on the bike says konbanwa, we both smile, walk, walk, run, nasty sea cockroach in the way, walk, walk, walk, discover a free outdoor gym.

Evening walks in Hiji are made of magic. A mere 5 minutes by cute shoes you will stumble upon the most amazing walkway winding down the coast. It is not really a beach, unless you usually tan on concrete and huge wave breakers but it has a great little path with a small wall protecting you from the biggest of the sea cockroaches and crabs. The path leads you past the ruins of a famous castle and while only the base remains it is still fun to pretend that you are a samurai laying siege to the sheer rock face that is all that remains of the once impressive fortress. Not that Roland and I would climb a heritage site, no that does not sound like us.



Then you stop walking and talking and almost breathing because in front of you lies, according to my Japanese guidebook, one of the most valuable views in Oita. You stop and stare at Beppu bay. A few feet away churns choppy water, annoying the nets cast our earlier that day and across the bay shines a thousand little lights. If you are lucky plumes of steam rise up from every hot spring in Beppu and if you are luckier still a cool breeze rattles at all the bamboo planted along the path. You are close enough to see the trains race between the buildings and the Asahi beer tower changing from white to red as it reminds you to pick up a six-pack on the way home. The four people in Hiji who own a dog, dress them in better clothes than I can afford and let them loose for a few precious moments, while girls and boys on bikes bob and weave through the joggers and strollers cluttering the path.

Oh the many braais we have braaied over the years!

Teaching my teachers the art of the braai.
Autumn braai
 As I mentioned earlier if you walk far enough you will stub your toe on a free gym with benches for pull-ups, sit-ups and pushups and any other equipment a young ninja warrior might require. I could not help but giggle when I first discovered it, since it gives me a vision of a Japanese man dressed in a business suit looking at the gorgeous view and proclaiming that ` people are going to be frightfully bored while standing here or even worse, might feel the urge to loiter around. Best we give them something to do. `

Rising steam of Beppu


This was not however the beach, Roland, Ducky and I turned into a proper `Boere Braai` for my birthday. I stumbled upon a quaint little sandy shore about 6 kilometers from my school. Here you can indulge in a little beach volleyball as the nets are never taken down (this not being SA, nobody thinks to steal the nets and have their own garden volleyball back home) or just get yourself an ice cold coke from a vending machine. Oh yes vending machines are found on beaches, in parks, at school and even on Mount Fuji. I kid thee not. They not only sell soft drinks, cold coffee, warm coffee, fake flavored purple grape juice but with real whole grapes (why Japan, why), green tea, black tea and milk tea but also any beer your heart desires. As for those who were thinking, `wow a beer in a vending machine, how odd` there is more my friend, you can get a 6-pack from the same dispenser and at only a few yen more than you would pay at the shop.

See!!! Mount Fuji vending machine.
 For the price of 2 peaches and a melon Roland and I purchased our very own BBQ, not barbeque, my kids say B B Q letter for letter and scavenged some pork chops and chicken. These were generously spiced with madam Paarman and I took care of the potato salad and braai broodjies. Ducky brought along some of the very tasty Japanese meat and snacks. We ate ourselves into a stupor and then while drunk on Fanta grape and chicken spice we lit two hundred Rands worth of fireworks. At one point we were lighting fireworks with fireworks and I could just see my dad telling me a long story of how someone he knew lost a foot or an eye so I was glad when they all went off without incident. Our little alien gathering must have looked very strange indeed and I image the glow-in-the dark bangles Ducky had covered us in must not have helped. It was a fantastic evening and if it were not for all the stars being in the wrong place it would have felt like home.