The haircut turned out okay, or at least I think so. Getting a haircut in Japan is a pretty wacky experience which includes a pretty intense shoulder massage. On the scale of wacky experiences, however, the haircut procedure here can't outweigh what happened to me before I went to the salon.
Before the haircut, I was standing out in front of Fukuyama Station, passing the time eating some apple candy and listening to a Stanford lecture about the historical Jesus (as opposed to, or in contrast to, the Biblical one) on my iPod. Some guy came up and tapped me on the shoulder, so I took my earbuds out. He asked me if I spoke Japanese, and I told him no, and that I was sorry.
His English was pitiful, but he said something like,"I studied rerijon. My rerijon is noshing. Noshing? Ahh... noshing?"
So, I was like, "Okay..." I figured he was a missionary or something.
And this guy starts shrugging his shoulders over and over dramatically, asking me, "Pain? Pain? You have pain in sho-der?" I told him that my shoulders were fine, but he just kept saying, "Like zis? Like zis?" and thrusting his shoulders up.
He eventually convinced me to turn sideways, so I humored him for a moment while he put out his hands--one in front of my chest, and the other behind my back--and started grasping at the air in front and behind me while chanting something in Japanese. This guy was casting a spell on me.
I was standing there, in front of the busy train station, watching people walk by while this guy was casting a fucking magic spell or something. I wondered how long he'd keep it up, so eventually I asked him what he was doing. At that point, he just smiled and asked if I had pain. I told him that I wasn't in pain, just like I told him that I wasn't in any kind of pain before he even got started with his mumbo jumbo.
He just laughed a little, and said "Sank you. Sank you!" Then, he walked over to somebody else and presumably inquired about the condition of their shoulders. At that point, I decided to finish the rest of my candy someplace else.
I've been here in Japan since August, and my hair is getting pretty dopey lookin'. My predecessor told me where I could find an English speaking stylist, so I booked an appointment with him for tomorrow after work. Wish me luck; I'm terrified.
This morning, I saw a school girl on the train glue her tall socks to her legs with a glue stick to keep them up. I wonder if that's common practice. They do seem concerned with keeping their socks pulled up as high as they'll go; they stop constantly and abruptly to stand on one foot and tug on them. Maybe it's a winter thing. It's balls cold and they're not allowed to wear pants.
My students say some pretty funny stuff sometimes. The combination of the language gap and some potentially awkward cultural differences make for some great quotes. I'm totally not making fun of my students. Really.
At my slightly rough visit school, a girl came running up to me and shouted, "I want you, I need you! I love you!" a few times before her friends covered her mouth and dragged her away. At my regular school, I've had a few I love yous, but I honestly think those kids are just trying to tell me that they like me as a teacher, but they're just using the wrong words. That's what I'm going to keep telling myself. Then again, I did have a girl stay after class once and propose to me. She just kept saying "marry marry marry," and I was like, "Yeah, I'm married." She gave me a sharp look and told me "No!" After she had a few words with the Japanese teacher of English, the JTE told me apologetically that the girl wanted to marry me.
Another one of my favorite quotes came from a sleeping boy at my visit school. I was doing a lesson in which each student was supposed to give a simple introduction. When I got to this kid, who was sound asleep, I woke him up and asked him to tell me his name and one thing he likes. He told me his name, then laid his head down on his desk again. I didn't wanna let him off so easy, so I got him back up and told him to just tell me one thing that he likes. This kid says, "I... liku... sexu..." and goes back to sleep. Everyone laughed, even the JTE.
My students produce some comedy gold in their writings as well. Here's somebody's response to an essay prompt about traffic jams:
"I think that the vahicle exhaust emission is a problem than the traffic jam. It is helpless in us. Lets' wait for the plan of the government."
My students' English, even though it might be a little broken (sometimes in humorous ways) is a hell of a lot better than my pitiful Japanese. I'm sure people get a good guffaw when I make an effort to use Japanese; I've heard 'em.
Unfortunately, we had a turkeyless Turkey Day this year. Morgan made her delicious chicken 'n dumplin's though, which is better than turkey anyhow. And yes, I did spell it chicken 'n dumplin's. Deal with it.
They don't eat Turkey here at all. My students didn't even know what a turkey was, which really surprised me. I hadn't thought about it before, but Americans eat a whole lotta turkey, and not just on Thanksgiving. Turkey burgers, turkey bacon, turkey hot dogs, turkey sausage, turkey chili, lunch meat turkey, etc. We'll substitute turkey for just about anything. Screw bald eagles. I think they should have listened to Benjamin Franklin and went with the turkey as the symbol for the United States of America.
Today's trip was to Tomonoura, a little fishing village just a few bus stops away from our apartment. It's the place that inspired the Miyazaki film Ponyo! I should probably write about the sights and sounds of Tomonoura, all of which were amazingly beautiful. Instead, I am most excited to announce that I saw a real live tanuki in person for the first time ever! It let me get up pretty close too!
Morgan's mom and step-dad are here visiting, so we're doing a bit of traveling this week. Today's trip was to Onomichi for the Betcha Matsuri. It's basically a festival that parents bring their children to in order to have them hit on the head with sticks by men dressed as demons for good luck.
As of October 28th, Morgan and I have been married for four years! When we lived in Evansville, we went to Nagasaki Inn for hibachi every year on our anniversary. This year, we were actually in Japan for our anniversary, so we went to an American restaurant called Boogie Buns. I didn't expect the place to be as authentically American as it is. We got nice big burgers though, with fries and a chocolate milkshake.
Real American food!
When we were downtown, on our way to and from Boogie Buns, we came across one of those Peruvian pan flute bands near the train station. Apparently, Fukuyama's multicultural area is to the left of Fukuyama Station, and to the right you've pretty much got Mister Donut, KFC, and shopping malls.
Getting pizza over here is a lot more complicated. Because I don't speak Japanese, ordering on the phone is pretty much out of the question. Pizza Hut is too far to have delivered, but Pizza Royal Hat is within range. Can't call them though. I could potentially order from Pizza Royal Hat online, but I'd hate to screw up the order somehow due to inability to read the options on their site.
Tonight, we decided to try getting Pizza Hut for the first time. I had to ride there on my bike, order the pizzas, wait on them, wrap the boxes in a towel to keep them warm, and strap them to my bike to take home. It's a pretty long ride, but I'll do anything for pizza.
Pepperoni/sausage/corn and mayo/meat
They may have been a lot of trouble to get, but these pizzas really really made me happy. They were every bit as good as American Pizza Hut, if not better for having strange and interesting toppings. We didn't see it until I only had one slice left, but the pizzas came with some kind of green hot sauce taped to the side of the boxes.
Hot Green Sauce
Hot sauce and pizza in Japan seem to be inseparable. Every time I've ordered pizza, except at the fancy Italian place, it came with hot sauce. I could definitely get used to that.
English is a global language. Even in non-English speaking countries, English tends to pop up here and there on various advertisements, t-shirts, etc. This is especially true of Japan. When English is being used in a country where it is not widely spoken, awkward wording, misspellings, and some pretty outrageous things can end up in print. There is a website devoted to showcasing such linguistic looneyness called Engrish.com.
I'll never be able to match Engrish's collection, but here are some good one's I've spotted so far:
"Burger Dericious"
I actually wanted to try it, but I think they're out of business.
"Vegeta Oil"
I was extremely amused by Vegeta Oil. We actually bought this, and I'm proud to say it's in on the shelf in our kitchen. Best vegetable oil ever! I don't have a picture of it, but I bought some drink called Goku at one point.
"Korean hot pebbles food"
Boy, I can't wait to try some hot pebbles food! Maybe it's a reference to potential gastrointestinal problems resulting from the consumption of said food.
"This is the most comfortable notebook you have ever run into.
You will feel like writing with it all the time."
- Primitive Brand Notebook
I don't have a graphic for this one, but it's something I saw printed on the front of one of my students' notebooks. It isn't exactly grammatically incorrect, it's just weird and made me laugh.
This poor box looks like it went through hell on the way here. It was all dented and misshapen when we got it. When I opened the door, little old postal worker was straining to hold the box up, and he was holding it sideways. It had pretty much lost it's shape entirely, so it looked like he was hanging onto a big heavy beanbag.
Japanese customs is pretty serious biz, and they seriously open all foreign packages and rummage through them. Despite the outward appearance of the package, nothing inside was damaged.
We tore into the box and spread everything out on the kitchen floor. Unfortunately, it's all but impossible to ship meat to Japan, but Mom sent us plenty of good ol' American food.
A lot of the stuff she sent is the kind of stuff we were used to having at home, but just can't get in Japan. She sent a ton of mac & cheese, which we had for lunch today. We got some tortillas and refried beans, which is good because there is virtually no Mexican food available in our area. The Lipton soup is going to be really really nice this winter when it's really cold. There's a giant Jiff peanut butter, which I can't live without. They have peanut butter here, but it's more expensive, and they don't have Jiff, which seriously tastes the best.
As much as I was dying to get reasonable stuff like toilet paper and food as soon as my check came, I also had my eye on a particular toy. Surprised? If you know me, probably not. This particular toy is the Revoltech rendition of Woody from Toy Story.
I actually took this one out of the box. I absolutely had to. Check him out:
Yes, even his facial expressions are changeable! I am going to try very hard not to blow all my money on toys, but stuff like Revoltech is going to make that really tough.
Last night, my coworkers threw Morgan and me a welcome party. I was asked to choose between Japanese, Chinese, or Italian food, and we quickly settled on Italian. We thought briefly that we would offend the other teachers if we didn't pick Japanese, but hey, they gave us options, so we went with what we really wanted. Apparently they all really like Italian though, so that worked out just fine.
The place they took us to turned out to be phenomenal! I was pretty worried that the "Italian" food would have too much of a Japanese twist, but someone I work with told me that the chef had trained in Italy, and when she made the reservations, she told him that two Americans would be trying Italian food in Japan for the first time. His response was that he would try his best to represent Italian cuisine for Japan. He definitely made a great impression on me with his six different pizzas. I have been absolutely craving pizza, and last night I was able to eat tons of it. In addition to the pizzas, various different pastas were brought out, and each of them was great. I even ate some kind of terrifying prawn creature with some pasta covered in a sauce made from its brains--something I wouldn't have even touched back in the States. After eating that critter, trying some of the sea bream, which was brought out pretty much fully intact with eyes and everything, was really no big deal. That thing was actually pretty good too. I'm not going to go and order my own sea creatures to eat in the future, but at least now I'm becoming a lot less picky. Then again, I might have a way to go yet, because I did turn my nose up at the raw squid. I mean, it was seriously just a dead baby squid sitting there on the plate. I'm not at that level yet.
Dessert was three different kinds of ice cream, and then a coffee. By the end of that meal, we were actually pretty stuffed. Actually being full was soooo nice, as we've been living on mostly rice and eggs as we wait for my first big paycheck. In accordance with Japanese custom, Morgan and I ate free!
The whole night was pretty nice, and I thought it was pretty neat for Morgan to meet the people I work with every day. The atmosphere was so much more relaxed than in the English office. During work, everyone is so quiet and busy, but last night they were really super talkative. We got onto the topic of pets when someone mentioned that Americans would never eat dog meat. They were really surprised to hear that Americans really do keep their dogs inside the house, sleep with them in the bed, and dress them up in little clothes. That stuff goes on in Tokyo, but not out here in the inaka, I guess.
9/3/2010 – My First Day at My Visit School, and First Weekend Alone in the Apartment
I went to my visit school, today. That school is just down the street from my house, and because it’s such a short walk, I was able to sleep in. Or, I would have been able to sleep in, but I kept waking up starting at around 5:30, when I usually wake up to go to my regular school. My keitai alarm was set for 7:30, but I just gave up and got up around maybe 6:15 or so. I’m always terrified that I won’t wake up in time for work. I was happy enough to be awake though, because every morning I get e-mail on my phone from Morgan. If it wasn’t for my keitai, I’d have absolutely lost it by now. It’s my only contact with Morgan and anyone back home. It keeps me sane. I probably shouldn’t have it out at work, or really even when I’m out walking from point A to point B because I bet it’s considered rude like everything else. I can’t help it though. Having contact with Morgan, even if I have to fiddle with the stupid number pad to enter text, is worth more to me than anything right now.
My day at work went pretty well, I think. My visit school is dirtier than my regular school, and has even less air conditioning, but at least it’s really close, and it doesn’t cost me money just to get there. I have my own desk in the English office at that school too, which is pretty boss. That desk doesn’t really have anything in it though, but it’s nice to have my own place to be. The English office there is on the third floor, in the next building after the one I enter from. Not that that’s at all interesting, but it might help me remember if I actually type that out. Another thing I am constantly scared of is getting lost. So, anyway, my visit school had been described to me as the bad school, especially compared to the more academic school I usually work at. Even when I got there this morning, the teachers started right away apologizing for how bad the students were and warning me that they’re really rude. As soon as I got a good look at some of the students, I could see what they were talking about. These kids had their uniform shirts unbuttoned, barely any were wearing their ties, the girls had tons of make-up on, and most of them had their skirts hemmed up to the point of near obscenity. They were way more talkative than my regular students too. Some girl I ran into a few times in the hallway had tons of questions for me, and then the next time I saw her she said, “I want you, I need you, I love you!” as her friends tried to make excuses for her and drag her away.
I really enjoyed my first class of the day. The teacher seemed to have a really good casual relationship with his students. Some of the kids were sleeping, some were putting on make-up, and others were reading manga. These are the sort of students I’m used to! They each had their own individual personality, for better or worse. I felt a lot more comfortable in that classroom. Unfortunately, the next couple classes went kinda crappy, I think. The next class I had, the students didn’t seem to understand a word I was saying, and we dragged through the whole lesson. It was like pulling teeth to get any student interaction at all. The teacher, an older lady, kept telling me the students didn’t understand, and that they were bad at English so please explain more. Uh, how am I supposed to explain stuff like “My name is…” and “I am from…”? Also, even though I had said my own name about a hundred times, the teacher decided it was Jeff-sensei about halfway through the class. The next class, my last one for the day, was somewhere in between. The students seemed to understand most of what I said, but the teacher kinda sidetracked me from my lesson and had me ask the students a bunch of questions that they didn’t want to answer. Whatever. It’s his class, so I just did as I was told. That’s pretty much my plan over here. Unless I’m asked to do something ridiculous, I’m just going to do everything I’m told to do, and hopefully the other English teachers will like me. I think they like me well enough so far, but it’s hard to gauge these people.
At any rate, my first work week is over. I’m in my apartment alone now, listening to all the sounds in the neighborhood through my paper thin walls and un-insulated windows, waiting for an appropriate time to go to sleep. I’m a little worried about this weekend actually. I certainly need the rest, but I don’t like being in the apartment alone for two whole days. It’s bad enough having no one to talk to in regular English day-to-day, but at least I can speak loud slow English with wildly animated gestures to my co-workers and students during the week.
9/4/2010 – Lonely Weekend
I expected this weekend to be really tough on me emotionally, as I would be in the apartment by myself all day long with very little to keep me occupied or distract me. Actually though, today hasn’t been that bad. I had my fellow JET neighbor Diane over today to show me how to work the washing machine, and right now I’ve got my whites in there. I can hear ‘em sloshin’ around out on the balcony even though the door is closed.
I was pretty worried I’d screw my clothes up somehow in that rickety old washer, but I’ve been checking in on them and they seem to be getting along just fine in there. When they’re finished, I’m going to have to hang them up to dry. Even in the super modern Japanese homes I see around the neighborhood, people here hang their clothes out to dry. It’s a cultural thing. They think it’s better for the clothes and better for the environment because it uses less energy. They’re probably right.
When I was first settling in here in Fukuyama, I was beginning to think that Japan wasn’t quite as futuristic as it’s made out to be, aside from in big cities like Tokyo. My neighborhood, which is a suburb of Fukuyama called Minomi is in the inaka, or countryside, even though it’s just across the bridge from the city. It seems pretty old fashioned and a lot of stuff around here is old and worn out. I’m starting to realize though, that stuff around here isn’t like that because of poverty or lack of technology. Everything around here that’s old and worn looking still works. Old stuff isn’t traded in for new unless it needs to be. Things are done cheaply here to conserve money and resources, and to treat the environment kindly.
Garbage here all has to be sorted before you can get rid of it, and when it’s collected, a majority of it is recycled. There are quite a few different categories you have to separate everything into, and the different types of garbage are collected on different days. Most of the time, labels and lids have to be taken off things and go into separate categories. It’s all quite a hassle. There’s no dumpster here either. There’s a sort of cage outside that the garbage is put into to be collected. It reminds me of the dump from the Gamecube Animal Crossing. Because of this system, it’s sometimes hard to get rid of things in Japan. People here spend a lot more time thinking about where their waste is actually going to end up.
A lot of the time, I get frustrated when I’m just trying to throw something out and I have to stop and take it apart. I think, In America, we’d just throw this shit out! It all goes in one trash can! So far, I’ve been just letting my trash cans fill up—putting off taking it out because I’m intimidated by the whole process. Tuesday is burnable waste day, and I think I’m ready. Monday night before I go to sleep, I’ll take my burnable waste down. I’m starting to accept the way things are done here. It may be harder, but it’s the right thing to do.
In America, we throw everything away, but even though our country is huge and has room for vast landfills, the trash will eventually crowd us out, just like my trash here would eventually start to pile up in the apartment. The convenience of just throwing everything in the same place will create a much bigger inconvenience down the road. My mom has a phrase that I think applies here: “Even a dog knows not to shit where he sleeps.” I think I was a little too quick to change my mind about Japan being futuristic. The way things are done here in Minomi might not be as cutting edge as in Tokyo, but a lot of things seem to be done with consideration for the future. America is just like me, putting off sorting out its trash.
The whites turned out fine, by the way. They look so quaint hanging out there too. Standing out there with them, I can smell that clean clothes smell—different from our detergent back home, but pleasant just the same—and hear the cicadas chirping and crows cawing. It just embodies summer so well somehow. Makes you want to write a haiku or something.
Hello readers, this is actually Jospeh's wife, Morgan posting this blog. Joseph sent me this blog via email from his shared work computer and asked me to post it for him. He will not be able to answer any questions posted on here for some time, but if you would like to contact him, please email him at the address he lists within this blog post. Thanks and happy reading.
I have not had regular internet access since I left my hotel room in Tokyo, and unfortunately it will be more than a month before I will have access in my apartment. If it weren’t for my sweet new keitai, I would be isolated.
I had no idea before that Japanese cell phones had their own email addresses, but now I’m using mine constantly to keep in touch with Morgan. If you would like to send me an email, my keitai address is josephgray(at)ezweb(dot)ne(dot)jp. I typed it that way to avoid getting automated spam, but you can figure it out, right? It’s an Urbano Barone from Sony Ericson, which I got for free with a two year contract with AU. Japan has three major carriers—SoftBank, NTT Docomo, and AU. Apparently, SoftBank is cheapest but has the worst service, NTT Docomo is really expensive, and AU is somewhere in between. I went with AU mostly on the recommendation of my supervisor Okada-sensei and another English teacher, Mitoe-sensei. I got Morgan the same phone. Unfortunately, they’re both a somewhat boring black because the other available colors were pink and a dark green. I thought black looked classiest.
Because I can’t post often right now, I will attempt to recap my last few days. In the future, this blog will have tons of pictures, and probably a lot of video links, but right now I can only post from work, so I need to be discreet.
The Flight to Tokyo
Parting with Andy, Brannon, and especially Morgan in Chicago was extremely difficult. I don’t know why I didn’t anticipate how sad I would be to say goodbye to my friends. Of course I knew it was going to be sad, but I guess I just didn’t realize what it would really be like. I cried, quite a bit actually, as I went through the line for customs. To make matters worse, we had planned to have a nice meal together before I had to go, but it turns out that only ticket holders can get to the area of the airport with all the restaurants. We were told that the only place we could all eat together was “a Starbucks with a table.” So, we went to Starbucks with a Table, and Andy treated us to an overpriced meal of prepackaged sandwiches.
I didn’t have to sit next to anyone on the flight, so I had plenty of room. The Group C JETs from Chicago were all seated in a cluster. Someone struck up a conversation with someone else in the cluster, and eventually we were all talking. I had planned to keep myself entertained on the flight with my DS, but actually I ended up chatting with the other JETs, sleeping a little, and just thinking about what I was getting myself into.
Tokyo Orientation
I shared room 1223 of the Keio Plaza Hotel with two other JETs, and chose to sleep on the pull out couch so I could kinda hide out over in the corner of the room. Turns out, that was the place to be, because my bed faced the window, and a beautiful view of the Shinjuku skyline. That first night, once we had our room keys, we were free to do as we pleased. A lot of people went out and got drunk, but I was exhausted from the flight, so I just got my internet fix and hit the hay.
Orientation involved a bunch of speeches, some in Japanese, some teaching demos/activities, an explanation of the clinical definition of culture shock as well as its stages and symptoms, and a reception dinner. For most of the day, we were in a big room at long tables listening to people talk and receiving paperwork. I don’t mean to depreciate any of the speeches or presentations—they were all interesting and helpful—but they aren’t worth going into detail about here. At the end, someone from Hiroshima came to give me some paperwork and discuss my schedule for the trip to Hiroshima prefecture in the morning.
The reception that night was fancier than anything I’m used to, and forced me to mingle and be much more sociable than I usually am. There were no chairs in the room, only tables. Doubtless it was set up this way to force people to move around and talk to one another. It worked, but trying to eat while standing up was complicated and just made things more awkward. I made as much small talk as I could handle, and just when I was thinking about trying to excuse myself somehow, the shindig was called to a close.
My First Day in Fukuyama
The next morning, I had an awkward breakfast with some Australians and a Singaporean, and then hurried back up to my hotel room to make sure my stuff was ready for the trip. The trip to Hiroshima was pretty rough, actually. I still had one of my big suitcases with me, plus my backpack and carry-on. Dragging that stuff all over the place in the sweltering heat and smothering humidity was the absolute pits. Once I was finally on the bullet train though, things weren’t so bad. The shinkansen is roomy and comfortable, so the other two Hiroshima JETs and I spent the trip talking to each other about our placements and whatnot. The lady I sat by had seemed way more capable, experienced, accomplished, and confident than me the night before, but the closer we got to our stop, the more nervous she got until eventually she started getting sick. For some reason, I really wasn’t all that stressed out at that point. I figured I’d meet up with my supervisor at the station, and she would just take me from there, which is pretty much what happened.
Okada-sensei and Mitoe-sensei took me to my new apartment, which is actually a pretty decent place, to drop off my luggage, and then we headed to city hall to get my alien registration card. After that, we went to AU to set me up with a cell phone plan, and boy, let me tell you, signing up for a cell phone plan in Japan is like some major diplomacy. It took probably two or three hours, seriously. I’m beginning to find out now, that this is a common thing in Japan. Everything has to be thoroughly negotiated, and discussed with people higher up the chain. It’s a delicate process, I guess. I know it’s their job to help gaijin like me get settled in, but I really did feel bad for them spending so much time with me at AU. After we finally got out of there, they took me out for okonomiyaki, Hiroshima’s famous specialty. It lives up to the hype.
With everything taken care of for the day, I was finally dropped off at my apartment and left alone. I had really been looking forward to this alone time, as my stamina was really wearing down from socializing so much. I figured I needed some time alone to recharge. Once I was alone for a while though, the homesickness and culture shock hit. As I unpacked my luggage and made myself at home, I found some little notes Morgan had hidden in my suitcases. As soon as I read that first note, I lost it. I just started weeping. Not only did I feel lonely, I felt isolated, and even panicked. I taped Morgan’s notes up next to my makeshift bed (a couch folded down with futons and comforters stacked on top) and read them a few more times, and eventually started to feel better.
Fukuyama, Day Two
The next day, I met my neighbor Diane. Mitoe-sensei had called her the day before and told her to meet up with me and show me around a little. Diane was supposed to come over at around 10:00 AM or so, but she didn’t show and I was getting pretty lonely and antsy, so I went and knocked on her door. She let me in and introduced herself. She’s a fourth year JET from Canada. Our other neighbors, also new, came over around the same time to use Diane’s internet connection. They’re a couple, also from Canada, who have a baby girl. The wife is a new JET, and her husband is staying home and watching their daughter. I was happy to be around other fluent English speakers for a bit… until they all switched over to French. When the neighbors were through talking to their parents on Skype and holding their baby up to the computer, I got my chance to check in on Facebook and let everyone know that I was still alive. Afterwards, Diane and I rode our bikes to Fukuyama Station. The purpose of that excursion was to show me around Fukuyama, but my sense of direction is worthless or absent altogether, so I didn’t get much from it.
Mitoe-sensei and Okada-sensei met me at the station and drove me to sign up for internet service at an electronics store. This ended up taking as long as the cell phone procedure, but we left defeated and internetless. Apparently, I need my alien registration card first, and the paper from city hall that says I’m a registered alien isn’t good enough. My card won’t come for about two weeks. Okada-sensei went to another electronics store to see if they would give me internet, and it seems like they will. Okada-sensei and Mitoe-sensei are going to help me sign up for that service online today at work. It’s ADSL, which is apparently pretty fast. I could have tried to get fiber optic service, which is the fastest, but I doubt my apartment is set up for it, and it takes a long time for them to even check.
After the electronics stores, I was taken back to the station to get on my bike and ride it back home… alone. This turned out to be a disaster. I rode all over the place, thinking I was passing the right landmarks along the way. I knew I had either seen them on my bike ride to the station with Diane, or maybe while I was riding in Mitoe-sensei’s car. Hours passed, and I was exhausted. I eventually gave up and called Diane for some directions. Apparently I was ten kilometers away from my apartment. The rest of that night, I peddled and peddled all over Fukuyama, stopping here and there to call Diane for directions. I had to ride my bike on busy highways and bridges, and I was scared shitless. I ended up dodging a truck and scraping my foot pretty bad. I shredded one of my purple Vans, and hurt my foot. I finally made it home after calling Diane about a hundred times, and spending a ton of yen on Poccari Sweat at vending machines along the way to stay hydrated.
Fukuyama, Day Three
The next morning, yesterday, I set out to practice the trip to Daimon High School so I wouldn’t be late for work on Monday. Somehow, that went perfectly. I went down the hill from my apartment to the bus stop, caught the bus, got off at Fukuyama Station, rode the train from there to Daimon Station, and walked up the hill to the high school. It’s a hell of a trip, and the heat is brutal. By the time I reached the school, I was soaked in sweat. I felt pretty good about making it there without much trouble though, especially after what had happened before. The walk to the school from Daimon Station is so scenic and quaint that despite the sweltering heat I started feeling a whole lot better about being here.
This morning, I got to work on time without much trouble, but because I had to wear dress clothes and carry my backpack as well as a big bag of gifts for the teachers, I arrived at Daimon drenched. I don’t know what I’m going to do about that in the future. I guess I won’t normally be carrying so much, and I should probably carry a little hand towel to wipe my face like most Japanese people seem to.
When I came in, I was asked to introduce myself to the staff during the morning announcements. I gave just a brief introduction, and everyone seemed pretty nice. I told them I was happy to be here, and looking forward to working with them, and they seemed to understand. Everyone already knows my name around here, but learning theirs is pretty tough. I’m familiar with a handful of common Japanese names, but memorizing everyone’s name right away is going to be tough. Luckily, the principal is just called Kocho-sensei and the vice principal is referred to as Kyoto-sensei—principal and vice principal in Japanese.
After the announcements, I was taken into Kocho-sensei’s office where I gave omiyage to him and Kyoto-sensei. An English teacher helped me explain the gifts—apple butter and beef jerky. The rest of our conversation was mostly just me awkwardly trying to explain where exactly Indiana is as the English teacher translated for me.
So, here I sit, at my desk, left to my own devices in the English office. Apparently, I’m not supposed to do my big self-intro presentation until this afternoon, so I basically just chill out in here until then. It looks like there’s going to be a lot of this—just sitting at my desk—during my time here. I actually don’t mind that at all though. It’s really neat having my very own desk, and I have plenty of time to plan lessons and probably even discretely use the internet. Speaking of which, I don’t have the SSID for the wireless network, and I don’t know where to find an Ethernet cable to plug in. I guess Mitoe-sensei and Okada-sensei are teaching classes, and I’m still too shy to bother anyone else about getting me hooked up, so for now, I’ll just wait. Update! Mitoe-sensei tells me that I can’t hook up my laptop. I have to use the shared teacher laptop. The problem there is that since USB drives are forbidden, I can’t get this Word file onto that computer to post. Ugh!
I wanted to get into the JET Programme more than anything, and now that I have accomplished that goal I can't describe how great I feel. I don't have any reservations about moving to Japan. It's a dream come true. That said, I am really really really going to miss my friends in Evansville. It didn't hit me all that hard at our farewell party, possibly because so many people showed up and something was always going on. There wasn't time to just sit around and pout about seeing people for the last time. Last night and this morning though, saying goodbye to friends individually tore me up.
Before leaving my house this morning, despite the fact that I was running well behind schedule as usual, I just kinda stood in my empty kitchen and stared at our refrigerator. Not long ago, it was so cluttered with magnets, photos, weird drawings, and kitschy postcards that one could hardly tell what color it was supposed to be. Back when our fridge was decked out like that, the kitchen was orange rather than the drab beige our realtor picked out. We'd painted it to match a retro '70s mushroom kitchen set we were collecting. This morning, the house was looking pretty lifeless, but I could still see it in my mind the way it had been before. I looked around and thought about all the crazy things that had gone down in that house. My throat was hurting really bad, the way it does when you're trying hard not to cry. Two of my best friends, Andy and Brannon, were outside waiting on me, and my wife Morgan was trying to convince me to get going. I had already been up all night packing, or at least pacing around the house while my wife packed for me. I was experiencing a painful mixture of sleep deprivation and premature homesickness.
I did a quick run through of the house I had lived in since I was in the first grade, as though I was making sure I hadn't left anything important behind. Really though, I trusted that Morgan had packed everything. I was giving my old home one last look before leaving it--trying to cement it in my mind so I wouldn't forget anything. With all the stress and rush of moving, I don't feel like I had time for a proper goodbye. I wanted to dwell on it. It's probably better that I had to rush out in a hurry though. I sat in the back seat and tried to hide the fact that I was crying while we pulled out of the driveway. I thought to myself that this was the last time I'd ever pull out of that old driveway, but even that I wasn't able to dwell on. I was distracted by a stubborn seat belt that wouldn't pull out.
So, here I am at a Super 8 in Chicago, typing up this first depressing blog entry. The house I left behind in Evansville isn't my home anymore, and I won't see my new apartment in Fukuyama for a few more days. In a way, that makes me feel a little bit homeless.
