I once read a little book based on the premise "You know you've been in Japan too long when...", with a variety of funny-cuz-it's-true answers. I remember one of them being "...when you say '仕方がない' (it can't be helped) all the time. To things you would never stand for in your home country."
And it's true. One of the things the Japanese do best is tolerate, to grin and bear it, to an extent that's almost ridiculous. They work long hours, but it can't be helped. They freeze in their un-insulated, unheated homes and offices in winter, but it can't be helped. They don't take their earned vacation time, but it can't be helped. There government is weak and their economy is tanking, but it can't be helped. Whatever it is you have to bitch about, legitimate or not, you just have to remember it can't be helped, and you might as well just get on with it.
I know I've been in Japan too long because I can't stand that it's true anymore.
That's a strong statement from me, as I have been a strong supporter of 我慢 (gaman, or tolerating) things my whole life. I know sometimes things are unfair, especially with work, and I've always just done my best to put up with it. Where my friends and co-workers would get angry and try to fight, I accepted and rolled with the punches. Sure I'd complain, but that was enough release for me. I could take whatever was dished out at me.
When I first came to Japan, I gladly took this approach toward living and working here. I had to remember that their ideas and ways of doing things were different, and I tried to accept them. I ate everything in the disgusting school lunch. I shivered away at my desk in winter. I went to the meetings and work events I had no part or interest in. When my other foreign colleagues complained, I tried to tell them 仕方がない.
After two and a half years though, I've pulled a Howard Beale. "I'm mad as hell, and I'm not gonna take this anymore!" I'm sick and tired of disgusting, cold school soup and I'm not eating it again. After two years of kabayaki fish, I can't stand to eat another bite and I won't. I don't want to sit through pointless meetings, so when the clock hits 4:30 and they're still blathering on, I'm just gonna go home. I will not let bad kids and bad teachers do something wrong without my making a point of being upset with them. I will not simply sit at my desk and freeze when I can put my scarf and jacket on to keep warm, I don't care if the rest of you want to shiver in your normal clothes. I will not go to the bathroom every time I have to fucking blow my nose. When the board of education asks ME to do the work they ought to do for my non-Japanese speaking co-worker, I'm gonna suck air through my teeth til they get the picture.
I know I can't change the Japanese system. But I am not going to let it ruin the rest of my time here. I will take the things I can take, and those that I can't...well, 我慢できfuckingない。
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
flux (long and wandering post)
i feel very strange these days. i waver between a kind of bouying joy and a slow, sinking sadness. sometimes i'm fine with it, other times it pulls me into a panic.
i see myself growing distant from japan. i've more or less given up on really studying japanese at this point. i haven't had a lesson in over 4 months. i don't feel the need to improve my very basic ability, though i have seen that ability decrease as i use it less and less. and i can see myself going home and losing it entirely, even after all those years, because unless i get a job teaching japanese or working for the japanese embassy, there's no practical usage for it. the thought of continuing to study japan or work in japan has lost almost all its appeal having done it for the last two years and going into a third. and those years feel more and more wasted as i look at going home next august. currently, i want to go home and start taking art courses, design courses. and i'm kicking myself pretty hard emotionally over it.
i remember in college, art teachers telling me i should be an art major. japanese teachers telling me i should be an art major. and i remember being angry at them, frustrated that they didn't see in me what i wanted to see. i wanted to study japanese even though it was hard, even though i didn't do well at it. i thought i was challenging myself. now i'm wondering if i wasn't just being stubborn and stupid. if i struggled against my natural abilities pointlessly.
that said, i look at my life here some days and feel good, feel strong, feel complete. I have the ability to function in a society totally not my own, and while i'll never fit in entirely, i am clearly not a stranger. i am good at my job, and i enjoy it. seeing my kids actually improve, and more importantly, open up to me, has been wonderful. thinking that way, i wouldn't trade these years for the world. i look out of my window, over my own little slice of japan, and i see it as being perfect, created and alligned for my very needs. i have made friends for life here, the friends i probably should have made in college but never did. i have both japanese friends and foreign friends, friends from all over the world. people i care deeply about i would never have met any other way.
oddly enough, it's the perspective of some of these close friends that has made me feel caught in a strange place.
Part 1: The Newbie and The Veteran
the newbie came to japan with no real concept of the culture or grasp on the language. like many americans, she came with the intent to stay one year, just to experience a different culture. and she's experiencing it like a dump-truck unloading on her head. she doesn't understand why the japanese people she meets do certain things, and my explaining that they are simply doing things "the japanese way" doesn't help it make any more sense to her. and she's not wrong in feeling that way--a lot of the time, it doesn't make a lot of logical sense, even if you understand the intentions or traditions behind it. she vents to me about her frustrations, and i do my best to try and both emphatize and explain how to cope. she doesn't need help remembering the good things, those she can experience first hand and process just fine. she does need me to try and help in the hard times though, and therefore i see japan through her eyes as difficult and incomprehensible. it can remind me just how absurd some things are compared to the american way of life. and it does make me miss home in a way i didn't used to.
the veteran arrived in japan the exact same day as me, nearly two and a half years ago. he came with plenty of japanese experience and an ample grip of the language, like myself. while our experiences with work have been different due to our locations, we both have been here long enough to have the same fundamental frustrations and difficulties with living and working in japan. unlike the newbie, he understands why the japanese are the way they are...but that understanding also proves that there are some things that are simply ridiculous about the culture. when we get upset with work or life here, we can turn to each other for total understanding of mutual aggrivation. the difference between us though is that he's about to go back to america, about to go home. and as we fall into the cold and dreary japanese winter, i see both his fatigue with japan and his lust for homesoil growing. i can't help in sharing the feeling sometimes...but he has a month left where i have eight to go. looking at things from his perspective makes me feel tired, and makes the months ahead feel like drudgery. knowing he won't be around to help me cope any more doesn't help either.
then there are the friends that remind me of the opposite side of the spectrum.
Part 2: The Visitor and The Lifer
the visitor is not just one person, though this was embodied recently by an old friend from home. he came as part of a trip around the world, and unlike many other people on his voyage, he came to me in order to experience authentic japan. while he was only here for 5 days, his impressions reminded me of the things i take for granted in japan every day. the fact he didn't need to worry about having his wallet stolen, that he could breathe the air and drink the water, that he could eat delicious and healthy foods, that he could feel safe at night out in the big cities...these are things a visitor sees as wonderful but which, until seeing it through his eyes, i had forgotten to be grateful for. he stayed at my house and came to my work. when he saw these things, he commented that he'd stay here for three years if he were me too. while it was never my intention to stay that long, his admiration of it reminded me why i made that decision. every time i'm about to forget that, another visitor comes along to remind me. my father's pure, unfettered admiration during his visit was another amazing boost to my self-esteem and pride in understanding and thriving in a foreign land. visitors make me feel lucky to have had such a wonderful opportunity here, and to appreciate it for what it is--a great life experience.
the lifer is another type that reminds me how good i truly have it. these are the people who have come and have stayed. the ones who instead of going home have made japan their home. they have plenty of good reasons. we are paid well and respected as teachers. while we may never truly fit in, there are times when being foreign gives us the advantage, or puts us above critisism or reproach. going back is just as stressful as staying, or maybe even more so, as one must almost start from scratch when returning to your home country. sure there are hard times, but you'll find those anywhere, and staying in a comfortable life in japan makes perfect sense. you get used to the craziness the way you forget about the craziness of america at times. while i know i'm not a lifer myself, it reminds me that 3 years really isn't so bad. maybe i will end up missing it and coming back someday. after 3 years, i'm more than qualified for almost any teaching position in the country, something that can't be said for america. if going home does turn out terrifyingly bad, i can always come back...
in the end, i know i should just enjoy the time i have left here. i should use it to figure out my plans for the future and reap the benefits of my japanese life. and i AM trying. some days it's just harder to remember it than others.
i see myself growing distant from japan. i've more or less given up on really studying japanese at this point. i haven't had a lesson in over 4 months. i don't feel the need to improve my very basic ability, though i have seen that ability decrease as i use it less and less. and i can see myself going home and losing it entirely, even after all those years, because unless i get a job teaching japanese or working for the japanese embassy, there's no practical usage for it. the thought of continuing to study japan or work in japan has lost almost all its appeal having done it for the last two years and going into a third. and those years feel more and more wasted as i look at going home next august. currently, i want to go home and start taking art courses, design courses. and i'm kicking myself pretty hard emotionally over it.
i remember in college, art teachers telling me i should be an art major. japanese teachers telling me i should be an art major. and i remember being angry at them, frustrated that they didn't see in me what i wanted to see. i wanted to study japanese even though it was hard, even though i didn't do well at it. i thought i was challenging myself. now i'm wondering if i wasn't just being stubborn and stupid. if i struggled against my natural abilities pointlessly.
that said, i look at my life here some days and feel good, feel strong, feel complete. I have the ability to function in a society totally not my own, and while i'll never fit in entirely, i am clearly not a stranger. i am good at my job, and i enjoy it. seeing my kids actually improve, and more importantly, open up to me, has been wonderful. thinking that way, i wouldn't trade these years for the world. i look out of my window, over my own little slice of japan, and i see it as being perfect, created and alligned for my very needs. i have made friends for life here, the friends i probably should have made in college but never did. i have both japanese friends and foreign friends, friends from all over the world. people i care deeply about i would never have met any other way.
oddly enough, it's the perspective of some of these close friends that has made me feel caught in a strange place.
Part 1: The Newbie and The Veteran
the newbie came to japan with no real concept of the culture or grasp on the language. like many americans, she came with the intent to stay one year, just to experience a different culture. and she's experiencing it like a dump-truck unloading on her head. she doesn't understand why the japanese people she meets do certain things, and my explaining that they are simply doing things "the japanese way" doesn't help it make any more sense to her. and she's not wrong in feeling that way--a lot of the time, it doesn't make a lot of logical sense, even if you understand the intentions or traditions behind it. she vents to me about her frustrations, and i do my best to try and both emphatize and explain how to cope. she doesn't need help remembering the good things, those she can experience first hand and process just fine. she does need me to try and help in the hard times though, and therefore i see japan through her eyes as difficult and incomprehensible. it can remind me just how absurd some things are compared to the american way of life. and it does make me miss home in a way i didn't used to.
the veteran arrived in japan the exact same day as me, nearly two and a half years ago. he came with plenty of japanese experience and an ample grip of the language, like myself. while our experiences with work have been different due to our locations, we both have been here long enough to have the same fundamental frustrations and difficulties with living and working in japan. unlike the newbie, he understands why the japanese are the way they are...but that understanding also proves that there are some things that are simply ridiculous about the culture. when we get upset with work or life here, we can turn to each other for total understanding of mutual aggrivation. the difference between us though is that he's about to go back to america, about to go home. and as we fall into the cold and dreary japanese winter, i see both his fatigue with japan and his lust for homesoil growing. i can't help in sharing the feeling sometimes...but he has a month left where i have eight to go. looking at things from his perspective makes me feel tired, and makes the months ahead feel like drudgery. knowing he won't be around to help me cope any more doesn't help either.
then there are the friends that remind me of the opposite side of the spectrum.
Part 2: The Visitor and The Lifer
the visitor is not just one person, though this was embodied recently by an old friend from home. he came as part of a trip around the world, and unlike many other people on his voyage, he came to me in order to experience authentic japan. while he was only here for 5 days, his impressions reminded me of the things i take for granted in japan every day. the fact he didn't need to worry about having his wallet stolen, that he could breathe the air and drink the water, that he could eat delicious and healthy foods, that he could feel safe at night out in the big cities...these are things a visitor sees as wonderful but which, until seeing it through his eyes, i had forgotten to be grateful for. he stayed at my house and came to my work. when he saw these things, he commented that he'd stay here for three years if he were me too. while it was never my intention to stay that long, his admiration of it reminded me why i made that decision. every time i'm about to forget that, another visitor comes along to remind me. my father's pure, unfettered admiration during his visit was another amazing boost to my self-esteem and pride in understanding and thriving in a foreign land. visitors make me feel lucky to have had such a wonderful opportunity here, and to appreciate it for what it is--a great life experience.
the lifer is another type that reminds me how good i truly have it. these are the people who have come and have stayed. the ones who instead of going home have made japan their home. they have plenty of good reasons. we are paid well and respected as teachers. while we may never truly fit in, there are times when being foreign gives us the advantage, or puts us above critisism or reproach. going back is just as stressful as staying, or maybe even more so, as one must almost start from scratch when returning to your home country. sure there are hard times, but you'll find those anywhere, and staying in a comfortable life in japan makes perfect sense. you get used to the craziness the way you forget about the craziness of america at times. while i know i'm not a lifer myself, it reminds me that 3 years really isn't so bad. maybe i will end up missing it and coming back someday. after 3 years, i'm more than qualified for almost any teaching position in the country, something that can't be said for america. if going home does turn out terrifyingly bad, i can always come back...
in the end, i know i should just enjoy the time i have left here. i should use it to figure out my plans for the future and reap the benefits of my japanese life. and i AM trying. some days it's just harder to remember it than others.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Heard 'round the world
So everyone's talking about the election and our president-elect, and for good reason. the wave of intense emotional uprising, the swelling of spirits, can be felt all the way across the ocean and over to me even here in Japan.
What strikes me most about this "historic election" isn't the obvious first African-American president, though it is a milestone of note. Black alone does not a great president make. obviously there are going to be more hurdles for this new president to overcome, more than most people taking office. and that "historic" significance will surely be an added weight on his shoulders.
What really gets to me though is that for the first time in my life, I see people EXCITED about their chosen leader. People who didn't feel like they were checking a box for the less of two evils, but who really took joy in saying "Yes, this is the man we WANT," rather than "this is the one we can stand". Voting turnout hasn't been higher since the 1960's, if the numbers I've seen are to be believed. People came out in droves to do their part, and it shows. For once, people WANTED to vote, because they WANT TO BELIEVE.
I remember voting in the Bush/Gore election, and even when I'd heard Gore had won (despite the later turn-abouts we're all far too familiar with), the feeling was one of relief rather than joy. But even me, sitting at my computer desk in my Japanese Jr. High school staff room, stood up, raised my arms in the air and cheered when Obama hit that magic 270. I announced to the staff room in Japanese "Obama's won! Obama is the next president!" Even my Japanese co-workers, who usually look at me funny when I try to share news from home, smiled and shared a little of the celebratory air with me. The students came in shortly after for cleaning time and asked me if it was true, they'd heard from the teachers that I'd said it to them. I told them it was true, and even they seemed happy. Thirteen year old Japanese kids who don't probably have any concept of American politics, and wouldn't care to if I asked them. The infectious nature of this happiness is another one of the wonderful effects this election has had.
In time, the ecstasy will fade, and the taxing work of fixing a very broken nation will wear on both our president and its citizens. But it's nice to see that people's spirits actually CAN be lifted from the normal, indifferent rubble of every day life.
When they say "we did it", that's what we truly did.
What strikes me most about this "historic election" isn't the obvious first African-American president, though it is a milestone of note. Black alone does not a great president make. obviously there are going to be more hurdles for this new president to overcome, more than most people taking office. and that "historic" significance will surely be an added weight on his shoulders.
What really gets to me though is that for the first time in my life, I see people EXCITED about their chosen leader. People who didn't feel like they were checking a box for the less of two evils, but who really took joy in saying "Yes, this is the man we WANT," rather than "this is the one we can stand". Voting turnout hasn't been higher since the 1960's, if the numbers I've seen are to be believed. People came out in droves to do their part, and it shows. For once, people WANTED to vote, because they WANT TO BELIEVE.
I remember voting in the Bush/Gore election, and even when I'd heard Gore had won (despite the later turn-abouts we're all far too familiar with), the feeling was one of relief rather than joy. But even me, sitting at my computer desk in my Japanese Jr. High school staff room, stood up, raised my arms in the air and cheered when Obama hit that magic 270. I announced to the staff room in Japanese "Obama's won! Obama is the next president!" Even my Japanese co-workers, who usually look at me funny when I try to share news from home, smiled and shared a little of the celebratory air with me. The students came in shortly after for cleaning time and asked me if it was true, they'd heard from the teachers that I'd said it to them. I told them it was true, and even they seemed happy. Thirteen year old Japanese kids who don't probably have any concept of American politics, and wouldn't care to if I asked them. The infectious nature of this happiness is another one of the wonderful effects this election has had.
In time, the ecstasy will fade, and the taxing work of fixing a very broken nation will wear on both our president and its citizens. But it's nice to see that people's spirits actually CAN be lifted from the normal, indifferent rubble of every day life.
When they say "we did it", that's what we truly did.
Monday, October 20, 2008
In my third year in Japan, I have started to get sick of a lot of things. The inane beaurocracy in getting anything done officially, the inflexibility of their estabilished systems, the gawking and glaring by people who should be old enough to know better, and a myriad of other annoyances, both big and small.
That said, something happened this weekend that reminded me that there are wonderful things about Japan, things that you can't expect to find anywhere else in the world. It's just that I've become so accustomed to them takes a lot to shake me into recognizing it anew. One of these things is the amazing honesty of the Japanese people.
This weekend I met up in Osaka with a friend and we did some shopping. I had been looking for a new digital camera, and after a lot of test driving, decided on a nice new Canon IS25. I picked it up at the major electronics department store in Osaka, Yodobashi Camera, for a pretty good price, though it was still nothing to sneeze at. Contented in my purchase, we continued on with our evening in the big city.
Having spent the money on the camera, I realized a little later in the evening that it'd be nice to pick up some more cash for the rest of the night and next day. In Osaka station, on our way to our next subway train, I stopped at an ATM and made a withdrawl. I then exited the ATM booth and went on to catch the train, no problems.
Except that I forgot my Yodobashi Camera bag there. In the biggest subway station in the second largest city in Japan. On a busy Saturday night. A brand-new camera, not even out of the box, in a well-known electronics store bag.
It wasn't until many hours later, when we went to play with my new camera in the hotel, that I realized it. By then it was pretty late, and while I knew immediately that I must have left it at the ATM, I also realized the trains to get there weren't running anymore. I wasn't even 100% sure where in the subway station the ATM was, though I had the reciept to tell me the bank. Pushing back the panic in my brain, I tried to stay calm...freaking out wouldn't do me any good, I'd simply have to wait until the morning to go and try and find it...
The next day, we re-traced our steps to find the ATM. After some freak-out-inducing difficulties, we found the ATM booth where I'd made my withdrawl. There was nothing on the ATM machine I used. That was to be expected. We went next door to the bank branch connected, and they sent us to station information, who in turn gave us a number to call Osaka Station lost and found.
Dispair creeping in, we decided to go sit in a quieter place and make the call. On the way, I wanted to look just one more time at the ATM corner...I looked at the row of ATM machines, the seats to the side of the small room, and then, behind a standing sign in the corner of the room...
...where my camera bag was sitting, waiting unharmed for me. Someone had placed it there, out of sight to someone not looking, but still in the place where it had been left. In the second largest city in Japan, on a Saturday night.
Any other place in the world, my camera would have been gone. No question. Even in my tiny hometown, the hopes of retrieving something like that would be slim. And yet here in Japan, the thought of taking it probably never crossed the mind of the person who moved my bag. I'll never know if it was some other ATM user, a security guard, or what, but I know that I'm so very grateful to them, and to Japan as a whole, for being so wonderfully honest.
And that is a quality hard to find anywhere else.
That said, something happened this weekend that reminded me that there are wonderful things about Japan, things that you can't expect to find anywhere else in the world. It's just that I've become so accustomed to them takes a lot to shake me into recognizing it anew. One of these things is the amazing honesty of the Japanese people.
This weekend I met up in Osaka with a friend and we did some shopping. I had been looking for a new digital camera, and after a lot of test driving, decided on a nice new Canon IS25. I picked it up at the major electronics department store in Osaka, Yodobashi Camera, for a pretty good price, though it was still nothing to sneeze at. Contented in my purchase, we continued on with our evening in the big city.
Having spent the money on the camera, I realized a little later in the evening that it'd be nice to pick up some more cash for the rest of the night and next day. In Osaka station, on our way to our next subway train, I stopped at an ATM and made a withdrawl. I then exited the ATM booth and went on to catch the train, no problems.
Except that I forgot my Yodobashi Camera bag there. In the biggest subway station in the second largest city in Japan. On a busy Saturday night. A brand-new camera, not even out of the box, in a well-known electronics store bag.
It wasn't until many hours later, when we went to play with my new camera in the hotel, that I realized it. By then it was pretty late, and while I knew immediately that I must have left it at the ATM, I also realized the trains to get there weren't running anymore. I wasn't even 100% sure where in the subway station the ATM was, though I had the reciept to tell me the bank. Pushing back the panic in my brain, I tried to stay calm...freaking out wouldn't do me any good, I'd simply have to wait until the morning to go and try and find it...
The next day, we re-traced our steps to find the ATM. After some freak-out-inducing difficulties, we found the ATM booth where I'd made my withdrawl. There was nothing on the ATM machine I used. That was to be expected. We went next door to the bank branch connected, and they sent us to station information, who in turn gave us a number to call Osaka Station lost and found.
Dispair creeping in, we decided to go sit in a quieter place and make the call. On the way, I wanted to look just one more time at the ATM corner...I looked at the row of ATM machines, the seats to the side of the small room, and then, behind a standing sign in the corner of the room...
...where my camera bag was sitting, waiting unharmed for me. Someone had placed it there, out of sight to someone not looking, but still in the place where it had been left. In the second largest city in Japan, on a Saturday night.
Any other place in the world, my camera would have been gone. No question. Even in my tiny hometown, the hopes of retrieving something like that would be slim. And yet here in Japan, the thought of taking it probably never crossed the mind of the person who moved my bag. I'll never know if it was some other ATM user, a security guard, or what, but I know that I'm so very grateful to them, and to Japan as a whole, for being so wonderfully honest.
And that is a quality hard to find anywhere else.
Monday, October 13, 2008
working on the self
working on things. running 3 times a week. watching the diet a bit more. learning guitar. still taking yoga (though i completely forgot about it today). biking/walking/training to work instead of taking the car (which is in the shop, so that helps). changing my hairstyle, gonna grow out the bangs after so many years.
trying to get some art done too. mixed results on that so far...some good construction paper work for friends, but collage is being elusive. did some good work for the Uni Qlo t-shirt competition this year though. waiting til the end of the month to hear about that.
of course, more mixes. working on one now, but no cover/tracklist til it's finished. lots of great new material to work with though. here are some old ones that hadn't made up up yet. summer mix is a bit late, but hey, there's always next summer.
trying to get some art done too. mixed results on that so far...some good construction paper work for friends, but collage is being elusive. did some good work for the Uni Qlo t-shirt competition this year though. waiting til the end of the month to hear about that.
of course, more mixes. working on one now, but no cover/tracklist til it's finished. lots of great new material to work with though. here are some old ones that hadn't made up up yet. summer mix is a bit late, but hey, there's always next summer.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
More than too much
There are times when too much has happened to go back and write everything down. Computer/self-indulgent time is at a minimum, and so events come and go without personal documentation.
There are also times when one is so bored at work in Japanese Jr. high schools that one attempts to make up for this oversight by making one monstorous post. This time has finally come.
The summer is far and away the busiest time of the year for me here in Japan. I helped work the Tokyo Orientation sessions again this year, which went quite smoothly for us in the second session. I did a repeat of my vegetarian performance, as well as giving presentations on thriving in rural Japan and sitting in on the GLBT panel to help a friend out (no women had volunteered and they desperately needed someone). Met some really nice people, some of whom live close enough to me here in Japan to actually hang out. Always a bonus.
New JETs have also flooded our area. A lot more close friends returned home this summer than last year, and that has been strange. I knew that would be the case as a third-year though...I'd seen it happen to the other folks around me who were finishing their third year. I miss all the folks that have left, but feel like I'm still connected to them, which is a happy surprise. In another stroke of extremely good luck, we managed to get some really great new people in our area. I'm particularly glad my new co-worker is someone I can consider a true friend already, we've really clicked...I've really lucked out in this department yet again.
The summer was made extra busy by the arrival of my dad and sister for a visit. In ten days we covered 4 major cities--Kyoto, Tokyo, Nara, Osaka--as well as Himeji and Fukusaki's famous attractions. It was both incredibly good to see them and incredibly draining. Acting as travel agent, tour guide, translator and plain-old family member really wears you down. It was nice though for my father to see me doing alright for myself here in Japan, as it was all just an idea to him before. It made me feel very adult. When my dad started to cry at the airport the day they were leaving, I felt sad, but also appreciated and loved in a way that was surprising and new to me. I can count the number of times on one hand that I've seen my father cry, and they were all at the death of family members or pets. So it's kind of a big deal for me.
Of course, the summer is long over now, and work is in full swing. Doing this for the third year has really given me an understanding of how to do my job competantly, and it feels good to be able to walk into an elementary classroom and take charge. Jr. High can still be shitty, but it's in part because I'm not in charge and in part because the kids are being forced through a shitty and pointless curiculum they have no interest in. I can't really hold that against them. The kids at the "better" schools are so much more open to me now though that talking to them outside of class pretty much makes up for the lack of response in the classroom.
This puts me mostly up-to-date with the goings on of the summer, though in a very broad and dry way. There will be another post shortly though, and that may be a little less...dull? We'll see.
There are also times when one is so bored at work in Japanese Jr. high schools that one attempts to make up for this oversight by making one monstorous post. This time has finally come.
The summer is far and away the busiest time of the year for me here in Japan. I helped work the Tokyo Orientation sessions again this year, which went quite smoothly for us in the second session. I did a repeat of my vegetarian performance, as well as giving presentations on thriving in rural Japan and sitting in on the GLBT panel to help a friend out (no women had volunteered and they desperately needed someone). Met some really nice people, some of whom live close enough to me here in Japan to actually hang out. Always a bonus.
New JETs have also flooded our area. A lot more close friends returned home this summer than last year, and that has been strange. I knew that would be the case as a third-year though...I'd seen it happen to the other folks around me who were finishing their third year. I miss all the folks that have left, but feel like I'm still connected to them, which is a happy surprise. In another stroke of extremely good luck, we managed to get some really great new people in our area. I'm particularly glad my new co-worker is someone I can consider a true friend already, we've really clicked...I've really lucked out in this department yet again.
The summer was made extra busy by the arrival of my dad and sister for a visit. In ten days we covered 4 major cities--Kyoto, Tokyo, Nara, Osaka--as well as Himeji and Fukusaki's famous attractions. It was both incredibly good to see them and incredibly draining. Acting as travel agent, tour guide, translator and plain-old family member really wears you down. It was nice though for my father to see me doing alright for myself here in Japan, as it was all just an idea to him before. It made me feel very adult. When my dad started to cry at the airport the day they were leaving, I felt sad, but also appreciated and loved in a way that was surprising and new to me. I can count the number of times on one hand that I've seen my father cry, and they were all at the death of family members or pets. So it's kind of a big deal for me.
Of course, the summer is long over now, and work is in full swing. Doing this for the third year has really given me an understanding of how to do my job competantly, and it feels good to be able to walk into an elementary classroom and take charge. Jr. High can still be shitty, but it's in part because I'm not in charge and in part because the kids are being forced through a shitty and pointless curiculum they have no interest in. I can't really hold that against them. The kids at the "better" schools are so much more open to me now though that talking to them outside of class pretty much makes up for the lack of response in the classroom.
This puts me mostly up-to-date with the goings on of the summer, though in a very broad and dry way. There will be another post shortly though, and that may be a little less...dull? We'll see.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Working in the Ghetto and Hating the White Girl
It seems this blog is gradually becoming "Mellen observes Japan", but I just learned something very interesting about the community in which I work and thought I would share my findings.
Recently, a teacher at one of the Jr. High schools I work at asked my coworker and I to present a special class on discrimination in our home country. This class isn't for all the students, but rather just the students who come from burakumin backgrounds. I'm familiar with what burakumin means from my college days, but I hadn't heard much talk about it since moving to Japan. Burakumin is a term used for Japanese people who were outcastes during the fuedal period in Japan. They were typically people whose professions were considered "impure", often dealing with death (like executioners or undertakers). They were set apart from the rest of society, and often lived in ghettos and isolated communities, thus the name (buraku meaning tribe and min meaning people). Even though the system was dissolved, there still exists discrimination against people who come from burakumin backgrounds, especially in terms of employment and marriage.
It is a very distinctly Japanese kind of discrimination. To put it bluntly, it's just a kind of snobbery. In pretty much every way, these people are regular Japanese citizens. They don't practice a different set of beliefs, speak a different language, or possess any distinct physical characteristics that set them apart; none of the things we'd "normally" discriminate against in the West. The only thing that's different about them is their historical background. And going back to the 1800s, that system of discrimination was supposed to have been abolished. Yet there have been groups that have compiled huge books about which people have come from burakumin backgrounds, and sold on the black market to companies to check before hiring people or look up someone before they allow their child to marry. As always, you can get more information from Wikipedia:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Burakumin
At any rate, burakumin wasn't the thing I was surprised to find out about. Rather, it was finding out that a large percentage of my students come from burakumin areas, and that Ichikawa town has the most buraku areas in all of Hyogo Prefecture. If you do go and read the Wiki article, you'll see that Hyogo is one of the places that still has heavy discrimination against burakumin populations. The school in the more affluent part of town doesn't have any burakumin students, while at the school with the more problematic kids, apparently half of them come from these discriminated areas.
Looking at it now, seeing it from a discriminatory Japanese perspective, I see why my town is having such hard times. There are hardly any businesses in Ichikawa, and very little development. I don't live in Ichikawa because there simply wasn't housing available here, and no one is building anything new here. People don't move to Ichikawa, and the population is decreasing steadily. One of my elementary schools even shut down because there weren't enough students. While most of the other small, poorer towns in the area have amalgamated to improve conditions (for example, Kamikawa to the north of us used to be 3 seperate towns that became one) no other town will take Ichikawa in. It had never occured to me that some of these problems could have their roots in discrimination.
I never realized it before, but apparently, I've been working in a Japanese ghetto.
Next week, Aya and I will be talking to the kids who have these backgrounds about discrimination in America. Then, we'll make apple crisp with them. It seems kind of opposite to me, talking to a discriminated group about discrimination problems, rather than talking about the problem with the other students. Still, I'm sure they'll enjoy getting dessert out of it. I guess they just want the kids to realize they aren't alone in facing discrimination. As a foreign minority here, I can actually understand it to some extent.
Part of me feels like everyone should come to Japan at some point to understand what it's like to racially profiled as a white person in an affluent society. I'm not sure there is any other country in the world where that's possible. The looks of people afraid to sit next to you on the train, the old people who mumble under their breath about us thinking we don't understand, the parents who pull their children a little closer when we walk by. Me, the horrifying foreign blonde girl.
But, in all fairness, I AM different. I look weird. I speak a strange language most of the time. I don't hold 100% to the customs of this culture. There's an EXCUSE to discriminate against me, be it justifiable or not. For these kids, who are Japanese in every way, it just seems stupid that they'd be looked down upon.
Just another observation about Japan. End of rant.
Recently, a teacher at one of the Jr. High schools I work at asked my coworker and I to present a special class on discrimination in our home country. This class isn't for all the students, but rather just the students who come from burakumin backgrounds. I'm familiar with what burakumin means from my college days, but I hadn't heard much talk about it since moving to Japan. Burakumin is a term used for Japanese people who were outcastes during the fuedal period in Japan. They were typically people whose professions were considered "impure", often dealing with death (like executioners or undertakers). They were set apart from the rest of society, and often lived in ghettos and isolated communities, thus the name (buraku meaning tribe and min meaning people). Even though the system was dissolved, there still exists discrimination against people who come from burakumin backgrounds, especially in terms of employment and marriage.
It is a very distinctly Japanese kind of discrimination. To put it bluntly, it's just a kind of snobbery. In pretty much every way, these people are regular Japanese citizens. They don't practice a different set of beliefs, speak a different language, or possess any distinct physical characteristics that set them apart; none of the things we'd "normally" discriminate against in the West. The only thing that's different about them is their historical background. And going back to the 1800s, that system of discrimination was supposed to have been abolished. Yet there have been groups that have compiled huge books about which people have come from burakumin backgrounds, and sold on the black market to companies to check before hiring people or look up someone before they allow their child to marry. As always, you can get more information from Wikipedia:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Burakumin
At any rate, burakumin wasn't the thing I was surprised to find out about. Rather, it was finding out that a large percentage of my students come from burakumin areas, and that Ichikawa town has the most buraku areas in all of Hyogo Prefecture. If you do go and read the Wiki article, you'll see that Hyogo is one of the places that still has heavy discrimination against burakumin populations. The school in the more affluent part of town doesn't have any burakumin students, while at the school with the more problematic kids, apparently half of them come from these discriminated areas.
Looking at it now, seeing it from a discriminatory Japanese perspective, I see why my town is having such hard times. There are hardly any businesses in Ichikawa, and very little development. I don't live in Ichikawa because there simply wasn't housing available here, and no one is building anything new here. People don't move to Ichikawa, and the population is decreasing steadily. One of my elementary schools even shut down because there weren't enough students. While most of the other small, poorer towns in the area have amalgamated to improve conditions (for example, Kamikawa to the north of us used to be 3 seperate towns that became one) no other town will take Ichikawa in. It had never occured to me that some of these problems could have their roots in discrimination.
I never realized it before, but apparently, I've been working in a Japanese ghetto.
Next week, Aya and I will be talking to the kids who have these backgrounds about discrimination in America. Then, we'll make apple crisp with them. It seems kind of opposite to me, talking to a discriminated group about discrimination problems, rather than talking about the problem with the other students. Still, I'm sure they'll enjoy getting dessert out of it. I guess they just want the kids to realize they aren't alone in facing discrimination. As a foreign minority here, I can actually understand it to some extent.
Part of me feels like everyone should come to Japan at some point to understand what it's like to racially profiled as a white person in an affluent society. I'm not sure there is any other country in the world where that's possible. The looks of people afraid to sit next to you on the train, the old people who mumble under their breath about us thinking we don't understand, the parents who pull their children a little closer when we walk by. Me, the horrifying foreign blonde girl.
But, in all fairness, I AM different. I look weird. I speak a strange language most of the time. I don't hold 100% to the customs of this culture. There's an EXCUSE to discriminate against me, be it justifiable or not. For these kids, who are Japanese in every way, it just seems stupid that they'd be looked down upon.
Just another observation about Japan. End of rant.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
I had intended to make my next blog post about the intensely crazy yet wonderful weekend I just had a few days ago, but something just happened in the 6th grade classroom that's left me with the NEED to vent to a foreign audience.
Most things about life in Japan are easy enough to get used to. The foods you don't like, the way you must interact with your co-workers, the "cultural differences" that you expect. There is one thing I will never get used to though, and that is the punishment policies in the Japanese classroom.
Just a bit ago, I was sitting in with some of my 6th grade students. We'd spent the previous period working on posters with the theme of world friendship. Then in the break between classes, the teacher Mr. Y starts talking about what they'll do next period. Somehow, I missed what the girl in the front seat did that roused his anger, but she must have done something. Suddenly, the normally genial Mr. Y starts to yell at this girl. He bops her on the head, rough, twice. She cowers and lowers her head to the desk. Mr. Y then proceeds to grab the back of her shirt, drag her out of her chair, and then drop her to the floor by the door. Still not finished, he keeps yelling at her to get out, and literally uses his feet to push her the rest of the way out the door of the classroom.
While she cries in the hallway, he comes back and finishes talking to the class. No one besides me is disturbed. Once the class starts gathering up their things to head to the gym for the next period, Mr. Y goes out into the hall again and talks to her, though I can't hear what's being said over the other kids around me.
My gut reaction is of course shock and repulsion. If this man was a teacher in America, that would have been his job right there. Gone, no question. Yet this is a standard disciplinary action here. I have seen situations like this before...students struck hard, pulled by the collar, or dragged out of class. And these are not kids exhibiting violent behavior that requires restraint, at least not most of the time. It always seems like an extreme punishment for minor crimes.
Not only is it difficult to sit and watch this, but it's difficult to be unable to do anything about it. I'm the outsider here, and it is not my place to object. In fact, I would probably just make things worse by trying to do anything. I just have to sit and remember to the teachers AND to the kids, this is normal. But every fiber of my being wants to scream out against this behavior when it happens. I want to stand up for the kid. A grown 40 year old man vs. an 11 year old girl just seems unjustified, no matter her offense.
I try to console myself by remembering the opposite side of this spectrum. Here, the kids can have positive physical contact with their teachers. I've taught a lot of my kids how to give me a high five, but I can't lie and say I don't like it when the little guys take my hand or give me a hug. The kids have a bond with their teachers here that isn't really allowed in the States. The relationship is closer than the normal teacher-student one we know had with our teachers, even the good ones we think fondly of. Teachers are more like parents than strangers. There's a lot of responsibility placed upon teachers here for that reason, but the students do show a lot more affection towards them for it.
That said, I am not accustomed to seeing a child treated the way I just saw. And I hope that I never will be.
Most things about life in Japan are easy enough to get used to. The foods you don't like, the way you must interact with your co-workers, the "cultural differences" that you expect. There is one thing I will never get used to though, and that is the punishment policies in the Japanese classroom.
Just a bit ago, I was sitting in with some of my 6th grade students. We'd spent the previous period working on posters with the theme of world friendship. Then in the break between classes, the teacher Mr. Y starts talking about what they'll do next period. Somehow, I missed what the girl in the front seat did that roused his anger, but she must have done something. Suddenly, the normally genial Mr. Y starts to yell at this girl. He bops her on the head, rough, twice. She cowers and lowers her head to the desk. Mr. Y then proceeds to grab the back of her shirt, drag her out of her chair, and then drop her to the floor by the door. Still not finished, he keeps yelling at her to get out, and literally uses his feet to push her the rest of the way out the door of the classroom.
While she cries in the hallway, he comes back and finishes talking to the class. No one besides me is disturbed. Once the class starts gathering up their things to head to the gym for the next period, Mr. Y goes out into the hall again and talks to her, though I can't hear what's being said over the other kids around me.
My gut reaction is of course shock and repulsion. If this man was a teacher in America, that would have been his job right there. Gone, no question. Yet this is a standard disciplinary action here. I have seen situations like this before...students struck hard, pulled by the collar, or dragged out of class. And these are not kids exhibiting violent behavior that requires restraint, at least not most of the time. It always seems like an extreme punishment for minor crimes.
Not only is it difficult to sit and watch this, but it's difficult to be unable to do anything about it. I'm the outsider here, and it is not my place to object. In fact, I would probably just make things worse by trying to do anything. I just have to sit and remember to the teachers AND to the kids, this is normal. But every fiber of my being wants to scream out against this behavior when it happens. I want to stand up for the kid. A grown 40 year old man vs. an 11 year old girl just seems unjustified, no matter her offense.
I try to console myself by remembering the opposite side of this spectrum. Here, the kids can have positive physical contact with their teachers. I've taught a lot of my kids how to give me a high five, but I can't lie and say I don't like it when the little guys take my hand or give me a hug. The kids have a bond with their teachers here that isn't really allowed in the States. The relationship is closer than the normal teacher-student one we know had with our teachers, even the good ones we think fondly of. Teachers are more like parents than strangers. There's a lot of responsibility placed upon teachers here for that reason, but the students do show a lot more affection towards them for it.
That said, I am not accustomed to seeing a child treated the way I just saw. And I hope that I never will be.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
mo' mix'd up
Some older mixes converted to my new system, and given some artistic treatment (in the first case, anyway). The third one is kind of a joke that isn't very funny if you don't live in Japan, and even if you do, it's still not that funny. Track listing for that one less important, but available to those that might want it.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
A Cautionary Tale
So back at the end of February, I was in a very minor car accident. I was following some friends to a party and when they turned at a stop sign, I went to follow them without looking quite well enough to the side. I hit the passenger door of a car coming up to the intersection. Thankfully, no one was hurt, the damage to both cars was all cosmetic, and the other driver was exceptionally nice to me, especially since it was my fault and I'm a crazy foreigner here. This was my first accident ever in a car, and I felt terrible about it, but the friends I was with assured me that as accidents go, this one was not so bad.
Unfortunately, I had this accident in Japan. Which means dealing with the Japanese police. I am still dealing with this incident, now well into the month of May. Here's the story of my recent day with the Fukusaki Police.
On Friday, I went in with my supervisor to the police station. I'd been told we were going to the site of the accident and I was going to say what had happened. I assumed this meant we would go to the intersection where the collision occurred. A good guess, you'd think. But it was not this straightforward. I got into the unmarked police van with my supervisor and three police officers, two of them in plain clothes. I had my picture taken next to the van first, of course. Then, we proceeded to go back to my apartment, which is fairly close to the police station. I thought this was in order to look at my car. But no, they just wanted me to get out of the van and have my picture taken next to my car. Not near the damage to the front right light, but at the back. Just to have it.
We then loaded back up into the van, and they asked me where I went to meet with my friends. I explained the directions I took to get to the parking lot where I met the Kasai folks before heading to the party. We proceeded along this route at about 20km an hour (twenty km under the speed limit in this area), and the officer in the front seat with the camera took a picture of every corner or intersection where I turned. People behind us were honking their horns, oblivious to the fact we were on police business. When we arrived at the gravel lot where I had waited for my friends, I again had to get out of the van and have my photo taken, standing in the empty lot. After this, we once again got into the van and went back the way we'd come to the accident site.
Here, where it actually made sense to me, I got out of the van and explained about where the cars had collided. The officer with the camera then marked a chalk circle and X on the spot I estimated the actual hit happened. Then I again had to have my picture taken with it. I had to point my finger to the spot though. The picture could not be taken until I understood that I HAD to POINT to where I said the accident happened. This was the end of the first part of my adventure.
Back at the station, my friend Clay was waiting for us to return. He'd been in the car with me that night, and so the police had requested he'd come in to give a statement. We were taken upstairs in the station, to a room with tables and chairs facing a chalkboard and podium, clearly meant for teaching and lectures, not an interrogation room of any kind. I had already given my statement to the police back closer to the date of the accident, but since then, April had come.
In Japan, April is the time of year when all the people in public service and school jobs change over. Sometimes you stay in the same job, sometimes you switch departments or offices. The person who had been in charge of the department my case fell under had changed, and instead of the salt-and-pepper haired man I'd spoken to in March, a young woman sat across the desk from me. This meant I had to restate everything that I had said previously.
At the same table, side by side, an older male officer I had not met before sat across from Clay. After being told we had the right to remain silent (which took a little work with the electronic dictionary), they proceeded to ask us questions. At the same time. I had difficulty sometimes hearing the soft-spoken woman's questions over the louder voice of the man talking next to her, and I actually had to lean over and cup my hand around my ears to hear her. Sometimes we had to wait for the other officer and my friend to finish with something before we could get my supervisor to try and help with Japanese I didn't understand. Not that my supervisor speaks English, mind you, it was just a "two-heads-can-use-an-electronic-dictionary-better-than-one" scenario.
While it was embarrassing that I couldn't understand all the questions, the fact that the questions ranged so widely might explain why I was at a loss at times. I was asked about where I went to high school, what had I studied in college, why did I want to come to Japan, what were the names of the members of my family and what did they all do for a living, how much money did I make a month, how much of that money was I able to save, was I satisfied with my salary/lifestyle, had I found my apartment on my own, what was my schedule at work like...I can't even remember now all the questions I was asked. I was surprised I wasn't asked for my blood type and list of sexual partners. How much of this had to be revealed to deal with the accident is something I'll never understand, but I knew that it was probably better just to answer than to put up a fuss.
After answering all the questions, the officers read back to us the entirety of the statements. It was like listening to a biography rather than a police report about an accident. Once they'd read it aloud, they printed it off the laptop. Thankfully I noticed that my young officer didn't have the printer hooked up to the computer, otherwise we might have been there even longer. Small misprints and spelling errors caused the report to be printed no less than three times. After they were printed, we were asked to read them yet again and sign the statements. Going over the accident in the van had taken about an hour, and this question and answer session took three times that long. Having gone in at 1pm, we finally left the station at 5pm. I was informed that the police would probably also call again to settle out the rest of the details.
I apologized to Clay for making him take time off work to come into the police station for so many hours. He commented on the Japanese commitment to the very letter of the law. It seemed to me like an obsessive relationship to the brush strokes that make the characters that made the letter of the law.
The moral of this story? Do your best not to get into a car accident in Japan.
Unfortunately, I had this accident in Japan. Which means dealing with the Japanese police. I am still dealing with this incident, now well into the month of May. Here's the story of my recent day with the Fukusaki Police.
On Friday, I went in with my supervisor to the police station. I'd been told we were going to the site of the accident and I was going to say what had happened. I assumed this meant we would go to the intersection where the collision occurred. A good guess, you'd think. But it was not this straightforward. I got into the unmarked police van with my supervisor and three police officers, two of them in plain clothes. I had my picture taken next to the van first, of course. Then, we proceeded to go back to my apartment, which is fairly close to the police station. I thought this was in order to look at my car. But no, they just wanted me to get out of the van and have my picture taken next to my car. Not near the damage to the front right light, but at the back. Just to have it.
We then loaded back up into the van, and they asked me where I went to meet with my friends. I explained the directions I took to get to the parking lot where I met the Kasai folks before heading to the party. We proceeded along this route at about 20km an hour (twenty km under the speed limit in this area), and the officer in the front seat with the camera took a picture of every corner or intersection where I turned. People behind us were honking their horns, oblivious to the fact we were on police business. When we arrived at the gravel lot where I had waited for my friends, I again had to get out of the van and have my photo taken, standing in the empty lot. After this, we once again got into the van and went back the way we'd come to the accident site.
Here, where it actually made sense to me, I got out of the van and explained about where the cars had collided. The officer with the camera then marked a chalk circle and X on the spot I estimated the actual hit happened. Then I again had to have my picture taken with it. I had to point my finger to the spot though. The picture could not be taken until I understood that I HAD to POINT to where I said the accident happened. This was the end of the first part of my adventure.
Back at the station, my friend Clay was waiting for us to return. He'd been in the car with me that night, and so the police had requested he'd come in to give a statement. We were taken upstairs in the station, to a room with tables and chairs facing a chalkboard and podium, clearly meant for teaching and lectures, not an interrogation room of any kind. I had already given my statement to the police back closer to the date of the accident, but since then, April had come.
In Japan, April is the time of year when all the people in public service and school jobs change over. Sometimes you stay in the same job, sometimes you switch departments or offices. The person who had been in charge of the department my case fell under had changed, and instead of the salt-and-pepper haired man I'd spoken to in March, a young woman sat across the desk from me. This meant I had to restate everything that I had said previously.
At the same table, side by side, an older male officer I had not met before sat across from Clay. After being told we had the right to remain silent (which took a little work with the electronic dictionary), they proceeded to ask us questions. At the same time. I had difficulty sometimes hearing the soft-spoken woman's questions over the louder voice of the man talking next to her, and I actually had to lean over and cup my hand around my ears to hear her. Sometimes we had to wait for the other officer and my friend to finish with something before we could get my supervisor to try and help with Japanese I didn't understand. Not that my supervisor speaks English, mind you, it was just a "two-heads-can-use-an-electronic-dictionary-better-than-one" scenario.
While it was embarrassing that I couldn't understand all the questions, the fact that the questions ranged so widely might explain why I was at a loss at times. I was asked about where I went to high school, what had I studied in college, why did I want to come to Japan, what were the names of the members of my family and what did they all do for a living, how much money did I make a month, how much of that money was I able to save, was I satisfied with my salary/lifestyle, had I found my apartment on my own, what was my schedule at work like...I can't even remember now all the questions I was asked. I was surprised I wasn't asked for my blood type and list of sexual partners. How much of this had to be revealed to deal with the accident is something I'll never understand, but I knew that it was probably better just to answer than to put up a fuss.
After answering all the questions, the officers read back to us the entirety of the statements. It was like listening to a biography rather than a police report about an accident. Once they'd read it aloud, they printed it off the laptop. Thankfully I noticed that my young officer didn't have the printer hooked up to the computer, otherwise we might have been there even longer. Small misprints and spelling errors caused the report to be printed no less than three times. After they were printed, we were asked to read them yet again and sign the statements. Going over the accident in the van had taken about an hour, and this question and answer session took three times that long. Having gone in at 1pm, we finally left the station at 5pm. I was informed that the police would probably also call again to settle out the rest of the details.
I apologized to Clay for making him take time off work to come into the police station for so many hours. He commented on the Japanese commitment to the very letter of the law. It seemed to me like an obsessive relationship to the brush strokes that make the characters that made the letter of the law.
The moral of this story? Do your best not to get into a car accident in Japan.
Saturday, May 3, 2008
Hong Kong
Of all that's happened lately, my trip to Hong Kong is most worthy of further description. Here goes.
The future will look like Hong Kong. A city where no one is out of place and yet no one is at home. Everyone is always in transit, passing through. People peddling fake watches and handbags constantly vie for your attention in the few seconds they have as you walk toward the next station or bus stop. I listen in earnest admiration as the woman working the desk at my cheap Kowloon guest house switches flawlessly back and forth between Chinese and British-accented English. But you are just as likely to hear German, French, or Hindi as English and Chinese. Whatever language you speak, there's someone ready to speak it back at you, especially if it means you'll buy something.
There are times when I definitely feel like I'm in China, with ducks hanging in meat shop windows and older people gathered in the park for Tai Chi. Other times, like when walking through the trendy restaurants and bars of the Soho district (yes, it's really called Soho), I'm back in the North American cities I haven't seen in years. The clean and efficient metro is like something you'd find in Europe, and the British voice over the loudspeaker only adds to the illusion. That quickly fades as I walk through areas packed with women in saris hawking various wares along the sides of the streets leading to the ferry. If I'd been homesick for Japan, there were plenty of sashimi restaurants and Japanese characters and movies to make me feel like I was back at home. International doesn't even begin to cover the feeling of Hong Kong. It's more like a miniature version of the world packed into one city with no set borders, no boundaries.
I bought American candy and shopped in H&M on Saturday. I went and saw one of the world's largest buddha statues on Sunday and met Mickey Mouse in Hong Kong Disneyland on Monday. The range of possibilities was seemingly endless. Hong Kong felt like a place where you could find pretty much anything you might be looking for.
Usually when I travel, I'm happy to come home to Japan. But after visiting Hong Kong, for the first time, I felt differently. It seemed suddenly that my beloved Kobe, and even Osaka, were gray, flat places, lacking the vibrancy and dimension I found in Hong Kong. Japan is Japan, and no other ideas hold sway over it. While that's what makes it special, it's also what makes it frustrating and suffocating at times. The future doesn't look like Japan anymore. Going to Hong Kong really put that reality in front of me for the first time.
It was only after meeting some of my students on the train home and talking with them that I remembered being in Japan is a far more important thing for me to be doing. If Japan wants to eventually make it to the future, it needs people like me to help them realize they aren't the only place in the world. Hong Kong doesn't need me to internationalize it, it has it's own momentum on that front. Still, I can't say I didn't find my trip to the future fascinating, and I may have to do it again sometime.
The future will look like Hong Kong. A city where no one is out of place and yet no one is at home. Everyone is always in transit, passing through. People peddling fake watches and handbags constantly vie for your attention in the few seconds they have as you walk toward the next station or bus stop. I listen in earnest admiration as the woman working the desk at my cheap Kowloon guest house switches flawlessly back and forth between Chinese and British-accented English. But you are just as likely to hear German, French, or Hindi as English and Chinese. Whatever language you speak, there's someone ready to speak it back at you, especially if it means you'll buy something.
There are times when I definitely feel like I'm in China, with ducks hanging in meat shop windows and older people gathered in the park for Tai Chi. Other times, like when walking through the trendy restaurants and bars of the Soho district (yes, it's really called Soho), I'm back in the North American cities I haven't seen in years. The clean and efficient metro is like something you'd find in Europe, and the British voice over the loudspeaker only adds to the illusion. That quickly fades as I walk through areas packed with women in saris hawking various wares along the sides of the streets leading to the ferry. If I'd been homesick for Japan, there were plenty of sashimi restaurants and Japanese characters and movies to make me feel like I was back at home. International doesn't even begin to cover the feeling of Hong Kong. It's more like a miniature version of the world packed into one city with no set borders, no boundaries.
I bought American candy and shopped in H&M on Saturday. I went and saw one of the world's largest buddha statues on Sunday and met Mickey Mouse in Hong Kong Disneyland on Monday. The range of possibilities was seemingly endless. Hong Kong felt like a place where you could find pretty much anything you might be looking for.
Usually when I travel, I'm happy to come home to Japan. But after visiting Hong Kong, for the first time, I felt differently. It seemed suddenly that my beloved Kobe, and even Osaka, were gray, flat places, lacking the vibrancy and dimension I found in Hong Kong. Japan is Japan, and no other ideas hold sway over it. While that's what makes it special, it's also what makes it frustrating and suffocating at times. The future doesn't look like Japan anymore. Going to Hong Kong really put that reality in front of me for the first time.
It was only after meeting some of my students on the train home and talking with them that I remembered being in Japan is a far more important thing for me to be doing. If Japan wants to eventually make it to the future, it needs people like me to help them realize they aren't the only place in the world. Hong Kong doesn't need me to internationalize it, it has it's own momentum on that front. Still, I can't say I didn't find my trip to the future fascinating, and I may have to do it again sometime.
mixed up
i've been working on mixes and covers for them of late. they're meant to be printed and folded, obviously, but looking at them digitally gives you an idea of the contents. If you are interested in any of the following, let me know and i can hook you up.
Life since February, in a nutshell
so the basics since i last said anything to anyone via the internet are:
1. staying in japan for a third year. this was a tough decision, but the facts that my car and my pets at home are gone, i have no boyfriend at home anymore, no job, no place to life or college plans yet to speak of, and overall enjoy my life here made me decide to go for the full 3 year possibility. this means if you still haven't visited me in japan yet, you have a while longer to do so.
2. my work is pretty crazy, since my board of education just adopted the schedule changes i proposed back in feb. approximately 3 weeks after the school year had already started. this is going to take some getting used to all around. in theory, it'll give me less work and more time with a smaller group of students. we'll see if it works out as intended after this initial run.
3. the change at work really surprised me, as the new rotation requires 2 English teachers and i thought as of next august we were going to have only one. yet, i walk into a meeting to find my old proposal laid out and translated, so it seems as though there will be more than one person next year. mixed messages from the board of ed aren't helping. if i do end up on my own next year, things are going to be really messed up.
4. i ran for a position in AJET, the association for japanese exchange and teaching participants, but i lost. slightly a relief, though a bit of a let down.
5. went to hong kong to visit my friend robin one last time before she heads off on the rest of her adventures through india and china, after which she'll go back to canada. she was my only friend from tokyo orientation onward, and it really saddens me to see her go. still, we had a great time in HK, and if you want to see photos, they are available on my facebook, let me know and i can send the link if you're not already part of the fb masses.
feeling good, although things can be stressful at times. the next time i have a good story, i'll put it up here. or if i think of something else. we'll see.
1. staying in japan for a third year. this was a tough decision, but the facts that my car and my pets at home are gone, i have no boyfriend at home anymore, no job, no place to life or college plans yet to speak of, and overall enjoy my life here made me decide to go for the full 3 year possibility. this means if you still haven't visited me in japan yet, you have a while longer to do so.
2. my work is pretty crazy, since my board of education just adopted the schedule changes i proposed back in feb. approximately 3 weeks after the school year had already started. this is going to take some getting used to all around. in theory, it'll give me less work and more time with a smaller group of students. we'll see if it works out as intended after this initial run.
3. the change at work really surprised me, as the new rotation requires 2 English teachers and i thought as of next august we were going to have only one. yet, i walk into a meeting to find my old proposal laid out and translated, so it seems as though there will be more than one person next year. mixed messages from the board of ed aren't helping. if i do end up on my own next year, things are going to be really messed up.
4. i ran for a position in AJET, the association for japanese exchange and teaching participants, but i lost. slightly a relief, though a bit of a let down.
5. went to hong kong to visit my friend robin one last time before she heads off on the rest of her adventures through india and china, after which she'll go back to canada. she was my only friend from tokyo orientation onward, and it really saddens me to see her go. still, we had a great time in HK, and if you want to see photos, they are available on my facebook, let me know and i can send the link if you're not already part of the fb masses.
feeling good, although things can be stressful at times. the next time i have a good story, i'll put it up here. or if i think of something else. we'll see.
The missing chronicles of my life to date
This is the start of a new blog, in the old journal-style, so as to keep people updated with my life (as there has been demand for it from several corners of the globe). It is intended mostly for people who I know living outside of Japan, but obviously anyone can have a look and leave a comment. facebook is still a good way to get in touch with me though.
This is a very boring first post, but you have to start somewhere.
This is a very boring first post, but you have to start somewhere.
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