Lost in Transition

The sun sets on 3 years in Japan

2010-08-17T23:42:00.002+09:00

Well, this is it! Joe and I are flying out of Japan tomorrow morning, so this will be my final blog post. A lot of mixed feelings right now — sadness that this journey is coming to an end, excitement about moving back, being near family and resuming a life where certain everyday things are less of a challenge.

We've had an incredible three years living and teaching in Japan. During this time I've done so many things I never dreamed I'd do. Standing in front of my first class of Japanese teenagers, I wasn't sure this would turn out so well, but I adapted to teaching and came to appreciate its many challenges. I've studied Japanese and learned it well enough to express what I want to say, albeit simply. I've been to the top of the world — watching the sun rise from the top of Mt. Fuji — to the bottom of the sea — swimming with sea turtles in Okinawa. It still blows my mind to even think about it. And besides traveling throughout Japan, we also spread our wings and went abroad, to Thailand, South Korea, China, Hong Kong and Macau. It's been an exhilarating and mind opening three years, a true adventure. When I came to Japan, I had a precious opportunity to be immersed in Japanese culture. But I also had the chance to see my own country and culture in an entirely new light, and now I'm coming away from this experience with a whole new perspective on America — its wonders as well as its weaknesses. Now, just as I once wished I could combine the best aspects of my ex-boyfriends into the perfect prince charming, I find myself wishing I could somehow combine the best of both these lands into a sort of paradise.

The Japanese have a saying, "Sumeba miyako," which literally translates to "If you live there, it's the capital" — the capital being the best place to be. So wherever you decide to settle, that place becomes home. After three years calling Hiroshima my home, I think this certainly applies. There is much I'll miss about Hiroshima and Japan. Tomorrow morning I'll be leaving a piece of my heart in Hiroshima.

Thanks to all of you who followed me on this journey. I've enjoyed sharing it with you.

さようなら日本、また会う日まで —> Sayounara Japan, until we meet again.

Kato-chan, where everybody knew our names

2010-08-16T11:59:00.001+09:00

Kuni-kun and Shin-chan, our favorite okonomiyaki cooks

The past couple weeks have been filled with goodbyes for us. On Friday, after returning our apartment key to our landlord, we headed to our favorite Japanese restaurant, Kato-chan, for one final order of okonomiyaki.

Okonomiyaki is Hiroshima's biggest specialty, and it's also my favorite Japanese food. How have I managed not to write about this yet? Okonomiyaki translates to something like "As-you-like-it-cooking" and basically consists of a paper thin flour pancake topped with a heap of shredded cabbage, noodles, meat, a layer of egg, some seasonings and a liberal dose of a barbecue-like sauce. There are a number of other ingredients you can add in as well; my usual included green onions, cheese and mochi (glutinous pounded rice cakes — they get warm and gooey on the stove). Top it all off with plenty of mayonnaise and you've got a very satisfying meal:

Photo by panduh / Flickr Creative Commons

Joe and I were to Kato-chan what Norm was to Cheers. It was our neighborhood haunt, just a family-owned hole in the wall but a place where everyone knew our names and greeted us with a smile when we walked in the door. The okonomiyaki there was always delicious, and kept us coming back every week or two for three years. We had our own seats at the bar, right in front of the stove — in fact we ate right off the stove (can't do that in America!). That way we could chat up our okonomiyaki cooks, Kuni-kun and Shin-chan. Since they don't speak any English, it was always a good chance for us to practice our Japanese, and over time we became friends. Once, they even took us out to dinner in Iwakuni. Nice guys. Gonna miss them. A lot. And their okonomiyaki.

"Nuanced" English

2010-08-15T11:59:00.005+09:00

I was looking back through old photos tonight and found some hilarious pictures I took two years ago and meant to blog about but never did. They're from a book meant to teach English slang and colloquial language to Japanese speakers. My Japanese teacher picked this up and loaned it to me to see what I thought of it. Once I started thumbing through the pages I knew I had a gem on my hands. Not only was some of the slang flat-out wrong or inappropriate, but the thought of a Japanese person trying to whip out one of these phrases in the company of foreign friends seemed totally absurd. Exhibit A: (Click any of the following pictures to see larger versions.)

To teach the word "Awesome!":

Boy: I'm stiff. I got something for you.
Girl: Wow. Awesome!

Below that, to teach the phrase "be a hero":

Boy: Even I could give a gift.
Girl: Don't be a hero. Show it to me. Quick.

To teach the phrase "Way-out!" (I guess they probably meant "Far out"?):

Guy 1: By the way, my dad will get hitched for the seventh time.

Guy 2 (wearing dog ears and mask for unknown reasons): Way-out! Awesome!

To teach use of the phrase "or something":

"I'm starving. Let's munch pizza or something."

Below that, to teach usage of "send...over":

Boy 1: If you drop by my crib, I'll send my bro over.
Boy 2: Don't worry. We're coming by the store.

To teach the supposed use of the slang "dented":

"I don't want to hear the story. It gets me dented."

To teach the exclamation "You bold-faced.":

"Don't play it so snotty. You bold-faced."

Below that, to teach the insult "jerk":

"You're a same old jerk."

Same old jerk?? OUCH!

To teach the word "lippy":

"Yell as much as you like. You lippy asshole."

To teach the word "crap":

One guy golfing tells the other guy, "Don't rap the crap and strike it now."

To teach the exclamation "How loud-mouthed you are!":

"How loud-mouthed you are! You can say one thing but you can't say the other."

Awfully polite way to confront the offending party, don't you think?

Below that, to teach the word "sassy":

"Don't talk sassy. You greenie, you."

What does that even mean?! Haha!

To teach the expression "go wild":

Smoking toddler warns, "If you talk strict, I will go wild."

Below that, to teach the word "glued":

"Chocolates are glued to your shirt again."

And last, the precious illustration at the back of the book:

My favorite is the panda that says "Alley-oop!"

Perhaps some of this is British or Australian slang I'm not familiar with. Or more likely it's just a really crappily translated book. The funny thing is that Joe has a similar type of book for learning Japanese slang, but when he showed it to a Japanese person he learned that a lot of the slang was really old or had fallen out of use. Lesson learned: Beware of learning slang in a second language. It's a mine field.

The dude in the frilly dress

2010-08-13T23:53:00.005+09:00

Over the past three years we've become acquainted with lots of Hiroshima's little quirks. One of them being this guy:

Occasionally we see him walking down the Hondori shopping arcade downtown, always in a very frilly little girl type dress. A few days ago I snapped him wearing this number, which had the lyrics to "Mary Had a Little Lamb" sewn onto one part.

Gonna miss Hiroshima and all its quirky charm.

65 years after the Bomb

2010-08-09T19:14:00.001+09:00

Peace cranes hanging around the Children's Peace Monument in Hiroshima's Peace Memorial Park.

Friday, August 6, was the 65th anniversary of the atomic bombing of Hiroshima. Yanked from slumber by a 5 a.m. alarm, Joe and I rose and got ready to catch the first train downtown to attend the ceremony. Thousands were already milling about the park when we arrived, but luckily we were early enough to grab a seat below the tents so that we could watch the ceremony shielded from the sun's brutal rays.

Friday's ceremony was attended for the first time ever by the U.S. ambassador and officials from the UK and France. Clearly, the mayor of Hiroshima said, the urgency of nuclear weapons abolition is permeating the global consciousness. He pledged to work toward a world free of nuclear weapons by 2020, issuing an impassioned plea at the end of his speech that brought a tear to my eye:

We hereby declare that we cannot force the most patiently enduring people in the world, the hibakusha, to be patient any longer. Now is the time to devote ourselves unreservedly to the most crucial duty facing the human family, to give the hibakusha, within their lifetimes, the nuclear-weapon-free world that will make them blissfully exclaim, "I'm so happy I lived to see this day."

I was glad I went to the ceremony one last time. I feel privileged to have been able to attend and be a part of an event that brings together the citizens of Hiroshima and the international community.

Peace cranes in front of the Atomic Bomb Dome

Friends and relatives sometimes ask me what it's like being an American living in Hiroshima — is there lingering resentment against America for the atomic bombing? The answer, for the most part, is no. To me personally, the Japanese have always been very welcoming. Their sentiments seem to be that the bombing was a long time ago; now, we should look forward with a common purpose to build a more peaceful world. Some of my Japanese students and colleagues have discussed the bombing with me. They are eager to share their feelings about how terrible the bomb was, but they aren't angry — just adamant in their belief that the bombing was wrong and should never be repeated.

Occasionally we do encounter anti-American sentiment, though it's not common. There are some right wing nationalists in Japan that spread their message using vans that drive around neighborhoods spouting right wing propaganda through megaphones at high decibels. Unfortunately some of these guys came to the bomb ceremony this year to spread their hate and bile. As Joe and I walked over the bridge into the park, some Japanese people handed us fliers with a smile. Only later, as we sat waiting for the ceremony to begin, did I read the fliers and discover it was anti-American propaganda with segments like the following:

How do those people sleeping beneath the ground think of Japan today? How do they speak about the present situation that the U.S. has not only refused to apologize for but is also using Japan as a shield to defend their mainland from potential nuclear attacks and thereby draws Japan into another nuclear war? What do they say about the present condition of Japan in which the agriculture, fishery and industries throughout have been devastated, downtowns have declined, Japanese education, scholarship and culture have collapsed under subordination to the U.S.? How do they talk about the actual situation that the history of Japanese people has been broken off and has taken the same course as that of an American Indian? Atomic bombs were dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki and innocent women, children, old people, workers and students were killed as mere worms. The dropping of the atomic bombs by the U.S. was completely unnecessary in order to end the war. It was a brutal act for the purpose of occupying Japan exclusively. Though the defeat of Japan was already obvious, Japanese rulers prolonged the war to maintain their positions against people's resistance, victimizing more than three million, welcoming the atomic bombings and occupation by the U.S. and practically selling the whole nation to the U.S. Such anti-national reactionaries have caused devastation of Japanese society today.

I was angry when I read this. Here thousands were gathered in a display of unity and peace to express the sincere hope for a world free of nuclear weapons, and at the entrance to the park were people still promoting division and hate, and assigning blame.

So to those who ask if we ever encounter resentment in Hiroshima — yes, but rarely. Those who feel this way are a tiny minority. The Hiroshima I know is a vibrant and loving city, looking forward with hope and optimism. While some may disagree about whether the atomic bombing was justified, they all seem to share the feeling that that's not what's important now; now, we just need to come together and work for a more peaceful future.

A woman prays at the Peace Bell in Peace Memorial Park. This is the bell rung at 8:15 a.m. each August 6 to mark the moment the bomb went off.

Hiroshima Carp center fielder...or Spiderman?

2010-08-07T14:26:00.004+09:00

Check out this incredible video I saw on JetWit.com. The Hiroshima Carp were playing the Yokohama Bay Stars on August 3 when outfielder Masato Akamatsu robbed the Bay Stars of a home run with this unbelievable catch.

Hello Goodbye Enkai

2010-08-05T22:31:00.007+09:00

Today was my last day as a JET, and my three-year anniversary in Japan. Goodbye job, goodbye health insurance! I'll miss you.

Joe and I have been replaced by another American couple who arrived in Hiroshima around a week ago. Last Friday I went out with the new JET for my school and the other English teachers for a welcome/farewell party at an izakaya (Japanese bar) downtown. Much Japanese food was consumed and cold drinks imbibed, and all were merry, as you can see in the photo above. I think the students will love the new JET — blond hair and blue eyes? Oh, I can see them swooning now.

My supervisor drove me home after work on my last day and we moved most of our furniture and belongings out to the new couples' apartment. All the teachers gathered at the front of the school to wave goodbye to me as I left, and it made me cry. I remember thinking it felt a bit like I was waving goodbye to family. I wish I could make them understand how good it made me feel. I'll really miss them.

We fly back to America August 18. Lots to say, little time to write.

Tragedy

2010-08-03T19:39:00.002+09:00

I've been putting off writing this post. Part of it is that Joe and I have been really busy preparing our exit from Japan later this month. But part of it's also that this is a tough thing to write about.

We've been saying a lot of goodbyes the past couple weeks, but the biggest was the final day of school before students' summer break began July 23. The school was to hold the usual closing ceremony in the gym that morning and I was slated to give my farewell speech to everyone, around 1,000 students and teachers.

But plans took a nasty turn. The night before the ceremony, as I laid down to bed, I got a text message on my phone from a fellow English teacher: A student had committed suicide at school. He'd jumped from a window.

I was stunned and went to bed crying. With a heavy heart, I returned to school the following morning and learned the details about what happened.

That whole week had been parent-teacher conference week, so the schedule had been modified. Classes were being held in the morning, and conferences in the afternoon and evening. Schools don't send report cards home in Japan. Instead, parents come to school to meet with their child and his/her homeroom teacher to discuss the student's performance.

This particular boy, an 11th grader, was having the meeting with his father and homeroom teacher about 5:20 p.m. The meeting was just about wrapping up when the boy stood up, walked across the classroom and simply jumped out the window, falling four stories to his death in the courtyard below.

Classrooms in Japan have large, single pane sliding windows with no screen. And since summer brings brutal temperatures and many classrooms don't have air conditioning, the windows sit wide open. Aside from a small ledge, there is nothing to stop someone from going out the window. For a long time I'd intended to post a photo of one of these shockingly unsafe windows on my blog with a snarky joke involving OSHA. Not funny anymore.

It's a mystery why this boy decided to jump. Bad grades, too much pressure? Not sure, though I was told that at least in the past he was always a good student. I remember having him in Oral Communication class all year last year and he never had trouble.

Of course his death changed the plan for Friday's closing activities. The whole school poured into the gymnasium and sat on the floor in front of the stage, silent. Teachers closed every window and door, every vent, and drew the curtains. This was to keep out any members of the media who might decide to nose around the building, or perhaps hide in the woods nearby and zoom in with a telescopic lens. With no air conditioning, we quickly began to bake in the muggy gym as the principal told the students somberly about what had happened to their classmate. In the back of the room, one teacher hugged a girl who sobbed continuously into a towel.

When the principal finished, it was my turn to go on stage and say my farewell speech in Japanese. I was already fighting tears when I went up on stage. In my hand I held an abbreviated version of my original speech, in which I would have encouraged the students not to be afraid to take risks, and to try doing something even if it makes them scared. That morning I'd shortened it to some generic thank yous and goodbyes. A few lines in I started to break down and then just cried through the rest of it. I'd always thought that it might be difficult for me to make it through my speech without getting emotional, but under the circumstances I just felt like falling apart.

After my speech, the president of student council gave me some flowers and a parting gift, and delivered a goodbye speech to me in English, which he'd memorized. I remember being surprised and impressed when he began speaking in English to me in front of the whole school, and very proud of him.

The ceremony ended after that and the students got to skip their standard school cleaning duties and go home. I think there were some counselors there to help students who were upset, and obviously the other teachers had their hands full supporting the students.

Once the school had emptied out, I wandered the hallways. Nobody had told me where the student had jumped from, but I wondered where and I was reluctant to ask because I didn't want to upset anyone. Outside in the back courtyard I found an older woman alone with a bucket, mopping a spot on the sidewalk. She greeted me with a smile and began speaking to me in Japanese, talked about my speech. In a lull in the conversation she stopped and said some things I didn't understand. Then she pointed to the fourth-floor window above her head. That was enough.

There was nothing there on that patch of brick sidewalk. No flowers, no candles, no notes or teddy bears. Nothing. Just an old woman mopping up any trace. I walked back inside and up the stairs to the fourth floor, peeked through the window in the door to the classroom where the woman had pointed. The room was dark. The curtain was drawn across the window in the middle of the room, and a lonely vase of lilies sat on the desk in front of it.

The school was empty, and I just felt heart broken. Shouldn't more be done to acknowledge what happened, some outpouring of sadness and love for this boy? Back at my desk I spent the rest of the day tinkering and crying. Even before any of this happened, it had already been an emotionally taxing week saying goodbye to one of my weekly conversation partners and struggling to write a meaningful speech that I'd be able to deliver in Japanese. I felt completely wrung out.

I thought about our student constantly for the next few days. In my mind I replayed what must have happened to him, and couldn't believe it was real. My heart ached for the student and for his classmates outside who witnessed his fall. And for his father and his teacher. I wondered why. I couldn't help but feel like every single person in the school held just a tiny sliver of responsibility for what happened. What if a smile and a kind word from any one of us that day might have been enough to change everything? I know that thinking that way probably isn't healthy, but still. What if?

It all felt like a really bad dream. I kept feeling like on Monday I'd go back to school and the boy would be there. We'd get to find out what was wrong and why this happened, and he would be there. But then you realize that of course he won't be there, and this is final. And that's what's so upsetting.

The Big 3-Oh

2010-07-11T22:01:00.002+09:00

Today was a lazy, rainy Sunday — and my 30th birthday. Woooo-eeee! We enjoyed a low-key celebration at the house, doing some writing and watching movies. Joe made a cake and put every candle left in the cupboard on it. Can't say I'm broken up about bidding my 20s adieu. My 20s were a helluva ride but now it's time to bring on the 30s!

English education in Japan: If you can't say anything right...

2010-07-10T21:13:00.003+09:00

I've been teaching in Japan for three years now, and by and large my classes are a pleasure. In addition to my classes, students have other lessons with Japanese teachers who teach them the grammar and mechanics of the English language. Those teachers are the unlucky ones, teaching the kids all the necessary boring stuff. I'm the lucky one — my classes are the ones where the kids actually get the chance to use what they've learned — to finally speak instead of just listen.

This can be a lot of fun! And... it can also be terribly painful.

Classroom management in Japan was a real adjustment for me. The expectations for student behavior in the classroom are very different from the U.S. and weren't immediately clear to me.

First off, you should know that the standard Japanese class has 40 students. This I'm sure would make American teachers choke on their coffee, given how much noise they make about having even 30 students in a class. All the students are divided up into homeroom classes, and they take nearly every class with the same cohort of kids.

Luckily for me, however, each class is divided in half for English lessons, so I teach only 20 kids at a time. Over the course my time here, I've been tasked with planning lessons ranging anywhere from 35 to 65 minutes.

My very first lessons were kind of a trial by fire where I got a glimpse into the challenges that lay ahead for me as an English teacher. Essentially, I'd been told to give an introduction of myself, showing pictures and explaining (very slowly) where I was from, some personal details, my hobbies, whatever. Then students would have a chance to ask me some questions. Picturing how this kind of lesson would have been received by American students meeting a foreigner from a strange place for the first time, I was fully prepared to field an onslaught of questions from a bunch of bright-eyed curious youngsters.

Except that when the question period came, repeatedly I was greeted with only a bunch of stares. Nobody had questions? Really?!...

Well, no, not really. The kids were full of questions, I have no doubt. But they just didn't know how to ask them. Or they were too afraid to ask them.

You know that old adage "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all"? For the Japanese, the philosophy goes more like, "If you can't say anything right, don't say anything at all." The problem is the students know their English isn't perfect, and rather than speak up and make a mistake, they'd rather remain silent.

They're also simply not used to speaking up in class at all. I remember one time I was reviewing the names of places on a map before doing an activity on giving directions. I pointed to the park on a map and asked them the English word for it. Silence. Four years of English education under their belts and no one can manage to say the word "park"? Come on! Sometimes this can be really frustrating.

I can think of no better example of this phenomenon than the recitation assignment all my sophomores were given last year. They were made to memorize a passage from their textbook and recite it in front of class. These recitations took one to two minutes. This was a challenging task for the kids, as I'm sure you can understand. It probably would have been hard enough to do this kind of public speaking task in Japanese, let alone English.

So a lot of kids got up in front of class, began doing their thing and inevitably hit a point where they had a hard time remembering the next line. They'd stand there nervously, eyes squeezed shut, biting their lip, desperately trying to will the words into their memory. I felt bad for them.

The thing is, I know that if American kids had to do an assignment like this, it would be only a matter of time before some clown, recognizing the futility of recalling the words, would just start making stuff up. He'd say something ridiculous, the entire class would laugh, everyone would relax a bit and remind themselves of the absurdity of the task.

Three hundred and twenty Japanese students gave me their recitations. Lots of kids hit a point where they just couldn't remember it anymore, and stood there silently for the next minute and a half until their time was up. Not one attempted to ham it up. No one winged it and tried to just make something up that sort of half-resembled the actual script. I wonder if the thought even occurred to them. Honestly, after listening to days of endless droning about Charlie Brown buttering toast, I would have happily handed a high score to any kid who deviated even slightly from the script in the name of a laugh.

But it went down the way it did because in the Japanese mind, it's better to say nothing than to say the wrong thing. It's better to have forgotten the script than to give the appearance of not knowing it, or of having memorized the wrong thing.

In this way, I have to admire my Japanese students. They are so earnest, so dedicated. They take their studies seriously. A lot of American students could stand to take a cue from them.

At the same time, it's this drive for perfection that also holds them back. I always tell my students, "Don't be afraid to make mistakes!" Nobody expects them to be perfect — except themselves! Getting them to overcome this fear is my biggest challenge as a teacher.

Part of the problem is that the Japanese school system enables this reluctance to take risks. You might think, "Oh, no problem, kids won't volunteer to answer questions in class? Then just pick someone to do it." But it's not that easy. In Japan, if a student isn't sure of an answer, there is no expectation that he'll try to answer anyway. He can simply deflect the question by saying "Pass". A lot of them don't even do that, though. I will pick certain students to answer something, and they will simply not respond at all. They will just sit there, silent. I didn't understand this was how it works when I first started teaching. A Japanese teacher would have recognized that a student didn't know the answer and simply moved on. But I just stood there, waiting for an answer. Waiting for some kind of recognition that I even just spoke to them. There'd be a terrible awkward silence where they'd stare down at their desk and I'd wonder if they were just trying to think of the answer or what. When they said nothing, inside I was very irritated. Their silence seemed terribly insubordinate. This wouldn't be tolerated in America.

Once I understood the cultural difference, I stopped being upset by this behavior. But it does sometimes present a challenge teaching the type of interactive lessons I'm tasked with doing, where students are expected to speak, listen, understand and respond.

My school doesn't allow teachers to give out candy as incentives. Instead, I followed in the footsteps of my predecessor and award the kids stamps each time they speak in class, whether they say the right thing or not. Students know that the participation stamps they accumulate during the semester factor into their final grade. Initially the problem with this was that the head English teacher wouldn't tell me, much less the students, exactly how the stamps would be factored into their final grade. It seemed like they didn't want to place a value on the participation stamps until the end of the semester when they could see how all the kids' grades were shaping up. Consequently, the motivating power of the stamps was severely diminished. (Well, it's that and the fact that grades just don't matter as much here. Kids know that as long as they score well on their college entrance exams, mediocre grades won't hurt them.)

Since I couldn't entice my students with candy, and it didn't work so well making vague promises about the participation points boosting their grade, I turned to all-out bribery. When Joe and I visited home last year, I returned with a bag stuffed full of little souvenirs — pennies, postage stamps, English pins with edgy messages, buckeyes, miniature American flags, Obama campaign stickers, and the mother lode — Obama campaign buttons I ordered from Democratic Stuff, a company in Greenville, Ohio, that produces campaign products. I showed the stuff to the students and told them that the five students from each class with the most participation points at the end of the semester could choose a prize. When I gave those prizes out, the kids went absolutely bonkers over the Obama buttons. Finally I'd found a successful motivator! A lot of them may not care about learning English, but they care about winning some Obama memorabilia.

I suppose if I did that in the U.S. that'd make me a "Socialist!", but here it just makes me popular.

Hell hath no fury like a Japanese baseball coach

2010-07-09T19:30:00.003+09:00

I remember when Joe and I were finally notified of the names of our schools before we moved to Japan. I excitedly typed my school's name into Google and found its website. Of course the site was all in Japanese, so I hit the Google translation button to get an idea of what it said. The translation function does a supremely lousy job of translating things, but you can still get a sense of what is said. Well, the translated version of the page described my school as a "military preparatory school" (it's not). We got a good laugh out of that when Joe remarked, "You're going to be barking at those Japanese kids to drop and give you 20!" Turns out, there was a grain of truth to that. Though it's not me ordering the push-ups — it's one of the other teachers.

Discipline in Japanese schools is a lot different from the U.S. On the surface there appears to be a lot less discipline in the classroom, and teachers tolerate more misbehavior than in American schools. This really surprised me when I started teaching here.

The thing is, the Japanese are very non-confrontational people. Often, teachers' approach is to simply ignore what little misbehavior goes on. Lucky for me, most of my students are very well behaved. Being at a relatively high academic high school, these kids are serious about their studies and feel motivated to learn. There's a famous saying in Japan: "The nail that sticks up gets hammered down." Social pressure keeps kids in line pretty well, and if they do get out of line their peers will bully them into submission. This makes for a class of kids trying very hard to conform rather than cause a disruption and call attention to themselves.

Most of the time students' indiscretions amount to ignoring the teacher and talking in class — they're no different from American teenagers in that way. Pretty minor stuff. I've had to deal with students typing English obscenities into their electronic translators and hitting the button to make the device say it out loud in class, and I've had to put up with obnoxious baseball players who want to bully the class into non-participation to cover up their deficiencies. Irritating, yes, but these situations are the exception, not the rule.

That's not the case in other lower academic schools, though. I have heard horror stories from other JETs about students pulling out cell phones and making calls in class, standing up and simply walking out the door in the middle of a lesson, and even one girl going so far as to plug in a curling iron to fix her hair during class (apparently right after P.E. period). Sometimes all the kids talk and simply ignore the teacher, who pretends it's not happening and just goes on with the futile lesson anyway.

In America, this sort of stuff would get you sent to the principal's office, or at least earn you a detention. But it seems that often times these behaviors are ignored in Japan. Kids are not kicked out of class. I have never heard of anyone being sent to the principal's office. High school is not compulsory, and until just recently, students actually had to pay tuition — around $100 a month — to attend public high school, so perhaps educators felt they couldn't really bounce a kid from class?

This is not to say there are no disciplinary measures. There are. There are a couple teachers who share the honor of being the official disciplinarians at my school. If a student acts up and ticks off his teacher, the teacher sends him to the disciplinarian during lunch or after school for a good dressing down. And this is where the disciplinary approach diverges wildly from America.

Instead of getting sent to the principal's office, naughty Japanese students at my school get sent to the baseball coach. Now I know I said before that the Japanese are very non-confrontational people. So when students are confronted, when they are actually yelled at, it sends a strong message — You really effed up, kid. It's embarrassing. And that's exactly what this teacher does.

He yells. I mean, he doesn't just lecture kind of angrily, he really lets him have it. The offender — usually a boy, I don't know if I can recall ever seeing a girl get into trouble — stands mute while the teacher works himself up into a screaming, red-faced fury. Either the boy wears an expression of defiant indifference, which only seems to prompt louder yelling, or he looks crestfallen as he tries to choke back tears. Sometimes, they do cry. While this teacher is going ballistic, all the other teachers in the office stare straight ahead, hunched over their keyboards as though nothing is happening. At times this teacher has thrown chairs. One time he even swept a heavy radio off the desk and it went crashing to the floor, though I'm not exactly sure if that was intentional considering that's kind of an expensive thing. It scared the bejesus out of me though because my desk was right in front of his at the time. And yes, there have even been times when I've seen him order kids to the floor to do push ups. I think those might have been his baseball players.

I was shocked the first time I saw this episode unfold. I had never seen any teacher act that way before, and I really didn't know what to think. He was throwing chairs and raving, and everyone else was just going about their normal business. I thought about telling him to calm down a bit, but I was scared to interfere. I always feel so bad for the students who endure this treatment. It makes me want to do something to defuse the situation and comfort them a bit, like covertly sneak a piece of chocolate into their palm as they leave the office or something. But I don't. One time I took pity and handed a box of tissues to a poor boy who was sobbing and wiping his eyes repeatedly on his shirt sleeve. I feel that's about all I can do.

After the dressing down is complete, the boys leave the office and I look at the teacher quizzically. The angry expression usually lifts from his face and he chuckles a bit. It's not that he gets a kick out of publicly humiliating students, but he seems a shade embarrassed about the crazy scene he just made. Because usually he's really not angry. He just pretends to be. And he is a very convincing actor.

Sometimes I ask what the kids did to earn this punishment. One kid got in trouble for repeatedly skipping school. Another kid cut class and hid in the bathroom to avoid taking a test. And one boy caught it for not telling the baseball coach he'd earned some failing grades, even though they'd been told they had to report any under-performance to the coach. Of course the coach knew about the bad grades, but the kid was being punished for being too scared to own up to his mistakes and face the consequences.

I have conflicting feelings about this "tough love" method of discipline. On one hand, I feel like heaping abuse on students and being physically threatening is really inappropriate. This is the very reason American schools no longer paddle rule-breakers, isn't it? Do we want them emulating that disciplinarian's behavior someday, perhaps on their own kids? Do we want to send the message that they somehow deserve less respect than us? On the other hand, well... It seems to work. The kids behave. I mean, I think my kids are just good kids in the first place, but still, American detention doesn't sound nearly as horrible as the public shaming these kids get. It seems like a good deterrent. I guess it's not so far off from the old debate of whether "time outs" are preferable to simply spanking a kid. The Japanese kids aren't being physically beaten, but they are being humiliated almost in the same manner as spanking. And the result is that I never see the kind of contempt and defiance I have witnessed American students throw at their teachers. There is a respect for authority that is sometimes absent in America. Makes you wonder if the Japanese could teach us a thing or two.

How much for that doggy in the window?

2010-07-06T20:33:00.004+09:00

How can you resist a face like this?

Look at those round black eyes. That button nose. That soft snow white fur.

Japanese people see this and go ga-ga. Hypnotized by cuteness, they open their wallets, turn them upside down and shake. Money blows away.

So it goes when it comes to pets in Japan. Japan is world famous for its culture of cuteness, and Lord knows there's nothing cuter than puppies.

Take me home with yooooou!

Pet stores here are filled with purebred animals fetching top dollar. I simply could not believe it the first time I went in to a Japanese pet store and saw that all the animals cost several hundred dollars, and many well over $1,000.

Even the cats!

For a while I had a sort of obsession with an orange flat-faced Exotic cat I dubbed "Smooshy." Smooshy's price tag was 98,000 yen — $980 or so. Every time I went to the Fuji Grand department store, I'd stop in to pay Smooshy a visit. I swear that cat was there for three months. Cooped up in that cage all that time. I always wondered when there'd be a Smooshy sale, since obviously no one wanted to pay so much for that cat. But there was never a Smooshy sale, and then one day Smooshy was gone. I wondered if someone finally adopted her or if she fell victim to a darker fate.

I read a Reuters article a while back about how Japanese people usually don't adopt animals from pet shelters. There's a very strong "brand name" mentality here where people really don't tend to buy generic or used goods, and I think that extends to animals as well. Who wants to save some throw-away mutt when you can have a purebred one from the pet shop? That makes me sad.

Japan has had a declining birthrate for years, which is one of the country's major social dilemmas. It seems that rather than have children a lot of people just adopt dogs instead. This Japan Times article says that since 2003, there have been more pets than children under age 16 in Japan. Last year there were 6 million more pets than children.

People really do treat the dogs like children, too. Japanese pet stores have an unbelievable selection of dog outfits, and it seems like nearly every dog I see out for a walk is wearing a shirt. Given the importance the Japanese place on fashion and personal appearance, perhaps this isn't too surprising.

I mean check out some of these outfits:

Every dog's gotta have a little black dress!

Yes, it's a yukata! For a dog!

Obligatory Engrish T-shirt

Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhh...

For some I think the dogs become just an accessory as part of their overall fashion statement.

There are even special cakes, muffins, and other sweets for these pooches.

Granted, Americans have been known to overindulge their pets, too. No doubt. When I worked for the newspaper I actually featured a lady who opened up a pet spa offering pet massage. You could get your dog groomed there using special fancy pants aroma therapy shampoos. Another lady I interviewed started her own homemade gourmet dog biscuit shop. So it's not just the Japanese. But, I do think that as a whole, Japanese pets are a lot more spoiled.

But I guess when you're paying that much for a pup, you're gonna treat it like royalty.

A walk around Hiroshima's Peace Memorial Museum

2010-07-05T21:17:00.000+09:00

Watched stopped at 8:15 a.m. — the moment the atomic bomb exploded over Hiroshima.

Last week my sister-in-law Jenny and her friend came to visit us, so we took them around to all the big tourist sites. Of course they couldn't come to Hiroshima without visiting the Peace Memorial Museum, and though I've seen it before, I've never blogged about it, so I decided to go with them and shoot a few pictures.

The museum is a fascinating but depressing place filled with information about World War II history, the development and proliferation of nuclear weapons, and artifacts from the bomb's aftermath.

There are a few dioramas depicting the city before and after the bomb, including this one showing where the bomb exploded, decimating the entire landscape. Only a few skeletal buildings remained.

One of those was the Atomic Bomb Dome, almost directly beneath the blast, pictured here at center. At the time, it was a government building. Today it remains as a memorial to the bomb.

The bomb obliterated pretty much everything within a two-mile radius. Joe and I live about 4.7 miles from the hypocenter of the bomb (as the crow flies), far enough away that the buildings in our neighborhood wouldn't have been destroyed, though our area was hit with black rain. Actually, I'm not sure how developed our part of the city was at that time, since the museum stated that 90 percent of the city's buildings were destroyed or burned beyond repair.

To me, the most unforgettable parts of the museum are the second-floor exhibits illustrating the destruction. There are lots of pictures and stories about victims and their personal belongings — school children's tattered uniforms and things like that. Some of these things are truly heartwrenching to see. One of the more famous items is this:

A 3-year-old boy was riding this tricycle in front of his house when the bomb hit. He was badly burned and died that night. His father, feeling his son was too young to be buried in a lonely grave away from home, and thinking he could still play with the tricycle, buried his son with the tricycle in his backyard. Forty years later, he dug up the boy's remains to transfer them to the family grave, and donated the tricycle to the museum.

Perhaps the most stomach-turning exhibit confronts visitors as they round the corner into a new room. Inside an exhibit showing the aftermath of the bomb, we see wax figures of victims holding out their arms, skin melting off. This is a common image I've heard recounted many times by survivors of the bomb and in books. I remember one hibakusha (bomb survivor) explaining how she witnessed lines of burned victims shuffling down the street, holding out their arms like zombies, begging for water.

The bomb's fury sent shards of glass flying through the air with such force that they embedded in concrete.

The heat warped steel and melted glass.

One surprise I encountered in the museum when I went through last November with Diane and Paul was an actual mention of Springfield, Ohio, believe it or not. There is a section about a project started in September 2007 to display an atomic bomb exhibition in 101 U.S. cities, and one of them is Springfield. I imagine this was connected in some way to Wittenberg University since it has such a great East Asian Studies program.

There are all sorts of books out there if you are interested in learning more about the bombing. I'm not the type of person to read a pile of history books, but actually one of the books I can recommend for those interested in learning more about the bombing is a 10-volume graphic novel called Barefoot Gen: The Cartoon Story of Hiroshima. It was written by Keiji Nakazawa, a bomb survivor. I'm definitely no expert on writing book reviews, but I just wrote one for the Wide Island View. Actually it's not so much a review as just a piece urging people to check these books out. And you should — they're incredible.

Let's play "Find the Foreigner"!

2010-06-27T12:33:00.003+09:00

Joe came home the other day with a print of his school's staff photo for the yearbook, and as soon as I saw it I started to laugh. He's like a giant gorilla next to all his Japanese colleagues. Check it out. (Click it to see a bigger version.)

Macau: High rollin'... for a moment

2010-06-26T21:08:00.001+09:00

Macau's MGM Casino

While in Hong Kong, we took a day trip to Macau, which is kind of like the Las Vegas of the East. Macau, like Hong Kong, is a special administrative region of China and essentially functions as its own country. It was a Portuguese colony up until it was handed back to China in 1999 under an agreement that it would remain autonomous for the next 50 years.

Now Macau's bread and butter is gambling. I've never been to Las Vegas, or stepped foot in a casino, so this was a first for me. After a one-hour ferry ride from Hong Kong, we got off the boat and directly onto a shuttle bus that took us right to the heart of the casino area, where there were all sorts of glitzy looking buildings.

Is that a Rolls Royce?

We walked around a couple of these places and the opulence blew me away. Chandeliers, flowers, water fountains, shiny everything. It all oozed money, money, MUH-NAY!

Joe and I agreed that he could play with $100 at the blackjack tables. Once it was gone though, he had to walk away. He chose to take his chances at the Wynn casino, seen here during one of its mesmerizing water fountain displays.

I just about choked when I saw the minimum bets at the blackjack tables. There were one or two tables with a minimum $10 bet, but no one was budging from those tables, so after waiting around for a while Joe finally took a seat at a table with a $20 minimum.

Five minutes later, the money was gone. He got up and walked away. Neither of us was really upset — I assumed we'd never see that money again, and I think he did too — though I felt a little stunned about how suddenly it evaporated. A hundred bucks. That'd've been a helluva nice dinner. Of course it was tempting to plunk down some more bills and play a little longer, but you know the next $100 would probably disappear just as quickly as the first.

Ah well. It was a nice experience anyway.

Hong Kong: The street markets

2010-06-25T23:59:00.000+09:00

Residents of Hong Kong's goldfish market

Out of all the sightseeing we did in Hong Kong, my favorite places were decidedly low key, and free: the street markets scattered throughout the city. In our time there we made it to a goldfish market, flower market, songbird market, jade market and some random fish, fruit or clothing markets we passed along the way.

The goldfish market consisted of a long street of fish shop after fish shop selling goldfish (of course), a variety of other fish, lizards and baby turtles. Some shops pre-bagged the goldfish and hung them up on the wall, making for some nice window shopping.

For goldfish on the go

Look at these fat prickly guys!

We went through the goldfish market on the way to the songbird market, a small park where we found lots and lots of birds in little orange cages, and some in those charming kind of hanging cages with the rounded tops.

This guy was feeding the birds grubs with some chopsticks. I thought that was cute.

The bird garden was interesting, though I can't say I'm a big fan of birds in cages. We didn't stick around too long as all those birds gathered in one place also just felt kinda dirty.

My favorite market of all was one that wasn't one listed in any of the tourist brochures, though, and that was just a standard food market located in an old building off a busy street. Peering into the wide open first floor I spied some fresh fish and decided to poke my nose in and see what else was in there.

It wasn't long before my jaw was hanging open.

This was not just fresh fish. Ooooh no. This was Fresh Fish. Exhibit A:

These suckers are still alive. How do I know?

Because they were sliced open and we could see their hearts still beating, that's how!

More fish:

This was just the beginning. Not only was this place a fish market, but it was also a meat market, with butchers right there slicing up huge hunks of meat — and not letting anything go to waste.

Don't miss the goods in the background here, either.

Ox tail? Or cat toy?

One section of the market housed a bunch of live chickens. We watched as a worker removed one from the cage, held it just so and slit its throat before dumping it into a large funnel to drain out the blood. I grew up in Ohio so I've been around my share of livestock, but this was something I'd never seen before and it left me a bit stunned.

Last but not least... ever seen these in your local grocer's deli?

I looked around for a display of large black cauldrons, but alas there were none.

Toads, brains, fish hearts and chickens with their heads cut off... without question the most unforgettable part of Hong Kong.

Hong Kong: Glamour and grime

2010-06-21T20:58:00.009+09:00

Hong Kong skyline at night

Hong Kong skyline by day

The above two pictures do a lot to illustrate my feeling about Hong Kong. In many ways I felt it was a city of total contrasts — luxury and wealth side by side filth and decay. At night, Hong Kong's skyline was dazzling. I've never seen such a long coastline of neon skyscrapers. By day, a haze of pollution muted that view. A completely different feel.

In some places in Hong Kong, everywhere we turned we saw luxury brand name stores selling extravagant goods with price tags to match. Not far away would be beggars with horrible deformities plunked in the middle of the sidewalk, collecting coins.

There's not a lot of mid-range accommodation in Hong Kong. You either stay at a super cheap hostel or a much pricier hotel. We stayed in a cheap hostel in the Kowloon neighborhood — truly an armpit.

We arrived late at night and emerging from the subway into our neighborhood I immediately felt overwhelmed. Lights, people, buildings everywhere. It took a while but we finally found the large, old building housing our hostel. Something in the block surrounding the building smelled like rotting corpses and I had to fight to keep from gagging. Inside, we took a slow elevator up past a number of other hostels located on different floors. Thankfully our room turned out to be clean, though also the size of a prison cell — barely big enough for two slim single beds and the tiniest bathroom known to man. I wish I had taken pictures of this but I forgot. The shower head was mounted on the wall directly in front of the toilet so that I literally could have taken a shower sitting on the pot. If I stood sideways in front of the sink I had literally an inch of clearance between my hips and the sink on one side and the wall on the other. Settling into this room, we knew we were in for an adventure.

The next morning, in the daylight, we saw the views from our building:

It is safe to say this was truly the most decrepit building I had ever been in.

On the street I marveled at the juxtaposition of old and new.

It struck me that Hong Kong actually fit the image in my head of China. Crowds, heat, tall buildings, lights, dirt, street vendors everywhere. Strange that Hong Kong should fit that image even more closely than China itself.

I wish that I had taken the time to take more photos around our building, but I didn't. Here's one shooting across the intersection by our hostel though.

And a couple more of the neighborhood street markets:

To be continued...

China Trip: Xi'an

2010-06-21T20:34:00.002+09:00

From Beijing, Joe and I took an overnight train to Xi'an, home to the famous Terracotta Warriors. Hate to say it, but Xi'an was probably the low point of our trip. While we enjoyed some of the sights there, worries about safety definitely put a damper on our stay.

We splurged on a private room on the train, which was nice for the privacy, but despite paying a premium for the pleasure the air conditioning was broken and the beds hard as rock.

The moment we got off the train, locals started aggressively hounding us to trade our old train ticket for an English map. When we refused, they offered to buy it from us — most likely so they could attempt to later resell it to unsuspecting tourists at a "discount." Probably our first clue that this place was a little shady.

Once we'd checked in to our hostel we struck out to find some lunch, only to have one of the desk clerks hurry out the front door and chase us down to issue a warning: Best to wear your backpack on your front and keep your hands on your camera at all times, he told us. The pickpockets are very slick and will open your bags and swipe your things before you know it. A couple weeks earlier, another hostel guest had had his camera stolen off his body.

Needless to say, this left us feeling a little unsettled. A short time later we stopped in the bank to exchange some currency, and Joe set his SLR camera on the counter next to him. When the bank employee spotted it he gasped a little as though he was surprised to see someone carrying nice electronics and told Joe "Oh, sir, be careful of your belongings!" Our discomfort grew.

Consulting our Lonely Planet as we began sightseeing, we again saw a note warning that Xi'an is notorious for its pickpockets. And again, walking in an underground passage beneath a busy intersection, we saw signs on the wall warning us to watch our belongings — in only English. By this point Joe's paranoia was spinning in overdrive. Every time he saw people looking at us he worried that they weren't just looking out of curiosity, but to determine whether they could steal something.

That made it hard to relax, but we tried to enjoy what we could.

The Terracotta Army of course was the main draw and the reason we made the jaunt to Xi'an. Some history (thanks to Wikipedia): Back around 210 B.C., the first emperor of China took the throne and ordered the construction of the Terracotta Army and his mausoleum. Around 700,000 workers were enslaved to construct the army, which included some 8,000 warriors as well as chariots, horses, officials, acrobats, strongmen and musicians. This army was supposed to help the emperor rule another empire in the afterlife.

The main pit

These warriors are life size and generally stand around 6 feet tall, with each having unique facial features and even different hair styles and uniforms depending on each soldier's rank.

They were discovered by some farmers in 1974 and excavation continues to this day. It is considered one of the most famous archaeological finds in the world.

I enjoyed seeing this but I have to be honest; I was a tad disappointed. It seemed a little over-hyped to me. I expected something that would really take my breath away, but it wasn't quite that imposing. But still really interesting nonetheless.

Probably my favorite part of Xi'an besides the Terracotta Army was the Muslim Quarter, where we went first to eat some lunch and ended up sampling several Muslim treats as well as some gyouza (Chinese dumplings). Many gastronomic delights.

Muslim Quarter

Numerous roadside vendors were selling a selection of dried fruit, cheap, colorful and delicious.

Giant legs of lamb and some other mysterious spicy dish

Nothing wasted here.

Straight from the nest?

And a few last photos of other sights from around the city:

Bell Tower, built in 1384.

Big Wild Goose Pagoda, built in 652.

Pyramid replica by the side of the road on the way to the Terracotta Army.

Birds hanging out in the park.

And last but not least, we left Japan but we did not escape the Engrish. Saw this lady walking through a park:

caffeine

crap

treasure

shoes

toys

books

China Trip: The Great Wall

2010-06-13T19:29:00.002+09:00

Joe and me on the Great Wall of China

Of course one of the highlights of our China trip was our visit to the Great Wall.

Though the Great Wall once spanned more than 8,800 miles, it is no longer in one piece. Parts of the wall have crumbled and broken down, but certain sections are accessible to tourists. We essentially had two options to see the wall while we were in Beijing: either go to Badaling, the closest and most easily accessible section of the wall (and thus most crowded), or take a tour offered through our hostel to hike between a couple sections that were further away, but more beautiful and less crowded. Joe wanted to go to Badaling. I wanted to do the hike. Guess who won.

And thus we were up at 6 a.m. waiting for the tour van to pick us up. The itinerary: drive for three hours to the Jinshanling section. Hike for four hours to the Simatai section. Have lunch at a Chinese restaurant. Drive three hours back.

The stretch between Jinshanling and Simatai amounts to six miles, but the hike takes four hours because the wall is steep and crumbling in sections, requiring hikers to use both hands to safely navigate. All that effort came with a reward however — the mountainous terrain made for spectacular scenery.

When we went, there were numerous trees covered in apricot blossoms, which I at first mistook for cherry blossoms. If you look at the pictures above you will notice the blossoms dotting the hillsides. This picture of the blossoms was my favorite though:

One of the older, disintegrating towers:

So now I will make a confession. About an hour into the hike, at the base of a very long incline and looking at the wall snake up and down, up and down the mountains, the tour guide gave us a choice. We could either continue the hike along the wall, or we could take a shortcut down through a valley that would cut out a portion in the middle and get us to Simatai faster, leaving more time for photographs. The group split in half — half wanted to continue on the wall, and half wanted to take the shortcut. Joe wanted to do the shortcut. I stared up at the long and steep hill. My motivation for doing this trip was more about wanting to see the scenery than sweat my way through a challenging hike anyway, I reasoned. And the scenery didn't look like it would change much from what we'd already seen. I caved. We took the shortcut.

On one hand I kind of regretted that. On the other, it gave us the opportunity to see some things I hadn't expected. Living in the shadow of the Great Wall were poor farmers raising goats and crops on terraced hills.

Now that's a room with a view.

This old man's back was permanently bent into this position.

Terraced fields

(Photo by Joe)

Finished! View of the wall from the restaurant where we ate lunch. (Photo by Joe)

Parts of the trip did not go as planned... The drive there and back took four hours each way, not three (with no stops). The gas station we stopped at just before starting the hike had the most primitive bathroom I have ever used: a large concrete room with holes where you do your business out in the open — no stalls, no running water, no toilet paper, nothing — just go and let it drop down a concrete chute. A Dutch couple who came on the trip actually brought their 1-year-old child — who was sick, and who we suspect gave his cold to Joe, who later gave it to me. And from the time we started the hike, we were followed by Chinese hawkers. They sweetly offered to take our picture in spots and always offered us a hand to get over rough patches, and then literally begged us to purchase exorbitantly priced souvenirs after following us for three hours. All stuff that left a bad taste in my mouth.

But hey. We got to see the Great Wall of China. It was breathtakingly beautiful. Really can't complain. The whole time I couldn't help but think "I can't believe I'm actually on the GREAT WALL OF CHINA!" Surreal, right! What an amazing blessing.

Here's a slideshow of some more photos, for those who are interested:

Great Wall of China

China Trip: Temples

2010-06-12T19:26:00.006+09:00

Temple of Heaven Park

Beijing boasts plenty of interesting old temples, and we wandered through a couple while we toured the city. These places were lower key than the Forbidden City and Summer Palace, but still beautiful and rewarding, and they brought us closer to Chinese going about their daily lives.

First up is the Temple of Heaven Park, a lovely wooded complex where people once prayed for good harvests. The inside of the park was alive with activity. Old people stood in circles, moving swiftly as they kicked hacky-sacks back and forth, while in other areas of the park dozens of people danced to lively music. As we walked along, we passed one man serenading his friends with an accordion.

Joe by one of the many lovely old trees in the Temple of Heaven Park.

The main hall in the park is the Hall of Prayer for Good Harvests, originally built in 1420 and rebuilt in 1890 after it burned to the ground from a lightning strike. This hall is supported entirely by wooden pillars, with no nails.

Hall of Prayer for Good Harvests

The halls in this temple complex were round built on square bases, shapes which my Lonely Planet informs me signify heaven and earth respectively.

Like the other palaces and temples we'd seen, the inside of the halls here were elaborately decorated.

The second major temple we visited was the Lama Temple, the most renowned Tibetan Buddhist temple outside Tibet. Incredible architecture here as well. The Lama Temple is a lamasery, so we saw monks going about their business, as well as lots of worshippers burning incense, bowing and praying. That's what I really appreciated about visiting this place — getting to witness the process of worship.

(Photo by Joe)

The temple complex was filled with many halls like these.

Couldn't fit the entire structure in one shot.

Certainly a sacred and spiritual place, and a wonderful experience.

China Trip: The Summer Palace

2010-06-11T22:03:00.002+09:00

Canal at the entrance to the Summer Palace

Out of all the incredible things we saw on our China trip, my favorite had to be the Summer Palace, a site once used by China's royalty as a summer retreat from the Forbidden City. M
y Lonely Planet described it as an "opulent dominion of palace temples, gardens, pavilions, lakes and corridors (that) was once a playground for the imperial court."

Words cannot convey the wonder I felt inside the Summer Palace. It was truly stunning — despite existing in a cloud of smog. Everywhere I looked in the Summer Palace looked like a beautiful photograph. I easily could have spent the entire day there wandering around taking pictures, and probably would have if Joe didn't start getting restless after a while.

Temple on the way to the main tower

Joe — too big for ancient China. Surprise.

The centerpiece of the palace complex was this magnificent structure, the Tower of Buddhist Incense. The inside, painted in extraordinary detail, houses a several-hundred-year-old bronze statue of Buddha featuring 1,000 hands, 12 heads and 24 arms.

Ceiling

The tower is perched at the top of a hill overlooking a giant lake dotted with dragon boats carrying tourists across to the Seventeen Arch Bridge. Imagine what this could look like on a clear summer day with water sparkling in the sun...

In the 1700s, the emperor ordered 100,000 laborers to expand and deepen this lake. He liked to sit on this hilltop and watch the imperial navy do drills.

The dragon boat we rode

Seventeen Arch Bridge on the other side of the lake

It was a fascinating place, and an afternoon I'll never forget.

China Trip: Donghuamen Night Market

2010-06-09T22:31:00.001+09:00

We made it to a handful of markets while we were in Beijing, including the Silk Street Market (haggling for anything and everything) and the Pearl Market (huge building overflowing with pearl vendors), but the most memorable by far was the touristy Donghuamen Night Market.

The Donghuamen is located in a swanky part of Beijing with numerous luxury brand stores lining the streets, and while the fare at this night market was certainly exotic, ya can't exactly call it high brow...

There were crayfish on a stick...

Scorpions on a stick...

Crispy bird's nest...

Hmm, let's see, bee cocoon, long horn beetles, water beetles, centipedes, snakes, silk worm or star fish... on a stick!

And many, many other things that ought not be considered edible, not the least of which included sea horses, grasshoppers and various animals' internal organs.

Did we eat anything? Well, yes. No, I was not brave (or stupid) enough to eat the things you see pictured above. I did, however, consume a small sandwich consisting of an English muffin with diced meat inside. I saw this and thought it looked appealing and ordered it without knowing what it was. Only after hearing the price did I look at the price board and learn that what I'd ordered was stir fried pig liver with green chili peppers. And you know what — it wasn't bad.

Joe, having successfully devoured his own pig liver sandwich, got even bolder and decided to give the exotic food roulette wheel another spin. While I snacked on sugar-covered strawberries and kiwi on a stick, he returned from a food tent holding this:

Those would be fried silk worms.

He ate one. Chewed. His grimace told me all I needed to know. The verdict: The outside was crispy, the inside, well — I seem to remember it being described as "like a burst of puss." NO thank you!

I think the only thing I ate after that was some fried ice cream, which was delicious. And sane.

China Trip: The Forbidden City

2010-06-08T19:44:00.006+09:00

There were 600+ photos on my camera from our trip to China and Hong Kong over the Golden Week holidays this spring. You could say I'm feeling a little overwhelmed about writing about the experience. There is just so much to show and tell, but I've got to skim the cream, and that's difficult. I'll try.

It was an incredible trip. The Great Wall, the ancient palaces, the street markets, the Hong Kong skyline at night? All absolutely unforgettable, jaw dropping experiences. Nothing I describe here can do justice to many of the things we saw. Not everything about the trip was lovely, though. Some parts in fact really sucked. But I never expected China to be a pleasure cruise. It was dirty, it was raw, it was old, it was loud. It had its own kind of charm, I suppose. Despite its rough edges, though, I loved Beijing.

We flew to Beijing on a flight from Hiroshima with a stop along the way in Dalian, a city whose name I already knew for only one reason. The spring before I came to Japan, working as a newspaper reporter, I covered a horrific car accident just down the road from my parents' house. Three Chinese international students from a local university were killed in the crash. Another driver who had just been through the Wendy's drive-thru came unhinged when he saw he got mayonnaise on his sandwich even though he ordered no mayo. He reacted by blazing down the road at close to 100 miles per hour. His SUV collided with another car, went airborne and crushed the Chinese students' car stopped at a light, killing them. One of those students was from Dalian. I drove by that spot everyday in the following months until we left for Japan, and I always thought of them.

So it was an odd coincidence, I guess, that Dalian was our first glimpse of China.

It was immediately clear that China would be nothing like Japan. Coming in for landing, we saw rows upon rows of buildings (maybe apartments), all exactly alike, crammed extremely close together and extremely close to the runway. Inside the airport, the workers we saw wore militaristic uniforms and helmets. No one smiled. A totally different vibe from Japan.

We were there just long enough to get off the plane, file through immigration and get back on to continue the trip to Beijing. Beijing itself was enveloped in a thick cloud when we arrived. I thought some rain had probably just rolled through. The following day I realized it was pollution.

I expected Beijing to be polluted. I just had NO IDEA it would be as bad as it was. It was by far the worst smog I've ever experienced. It's like living in a fog. You look across the street, and it's foggy. Less than 24 hours after we'd landed in Beijing, I was blowing black snot out of my nose. After a few days, I started feeling asthmatic symptoms that I usually only struggle with when I exercise really hard. Really kinda scary, and made me wonder how people could live their whole lives in that kind of environment. Chinese people were constantly hocking up huge loogies and spitting them into the street, which was pretty nasty. Often on the trip I gaped in wonder at the ancient marvels we were seeing — and that was while seeing everything sitting in smog. My head spun at the thought of how mind blowing it would all be if the air were actually clear.

I can say, at least, that our hostel was beautiful and extremely clean; in fact it was the nicest hostel I've ever stayed in. We stayed at the Peking Yard Hostel. The place was pristine, overflowing with flowers inside, and located in a quiet hutong, a traditional old Chinese neighborhood with narrow streets and alleys. During the day we could see other Chinese going about their business without a bunch of other tourists around. Down the street we found a little Chinese restaurant with a huge menu with pictures. The staff didn't know a lick of English, but we ended up eating several meals there because the food was so good, and cheap. Somehow we managed to communicate with the staff through pointing and miming, and I guess they liked us, since they always smiled and laughed a little when we came in. I think they don't see many tourists. My favorite dish was made with chicken and peanuts and red peppers and spicy sauce. The sweet and sour chicken was tasty too — and much to my surprise tasted exactly the same as the stuff back home. The desk attendant at our hostel was nice enough to write in Chinese "Go easy on the spice" on a scrap of paper for us before we went there the first time, and we made sure to show it to them every time. They always nodded and smiled, and our food was always just about as spicy as I could stand it. So I imagine that I wouldn't have been able to eat it if it were prepared as usual.

We hit most of the main tourist sites while we were in Beijing: The Great Wall, the Forbidden City and Tienanmen Square, the Summer Palace, a few markets and a couple significant temples.

I'll start with our first destination: the Forbidden City.

Tienanmen Square, at the entrance to the Forbidden City. Say hello to Chairman Mao!

The Forbidden City is in the middle of Beijing. It is a walled city that was built in the early 1400s and served as home to 24 of China's emperors over the course of 500 years. It took more than a million workers 15 years to build the palace complex, with some 980 buildings remaining today. According to the brochure we got, "It is the most magnificent ancient architectural complex we have in our country, and the biggest and most intact architectural complex of palaces in the world."

Our view of the Forbidden City from a nearby hilltop. Amazing (and yes, draped in smog).

As you can imagine, it was crowded. Going on a Saturday morning didn't help matters. Generally speaking the crowd was not so troublesome, except when we were trying to get a glimpse inside certain significant buildings — then the mob just crushed against the entrance. It reminded me exactly of being uptown at Ohio University during Halloween, where everyone is pushing together so hard you start to worry you might actually be crushed or trampled. And thus I learned: Chinese people do not like to queue.

These palace buildings are definitely more detailed than the structures we've seen in Japan. The temples we saw in Korea looked similar.

We spent half the day wandering around admiring the buildings and exploring a few exhibits filled with precious jewelry, intricately carved jade and ornate clocks. The Hall of Clocks and Watches was a real treasure, filled with elaborate clocks given to emperors over the years.

These don't even hold a candle to some of the more ornate time pieces.

The Nine Dragon Screen (Photo by Joe)

The dragon was the symbol of the emperor in ancient China. The story goes that this wall is made up of 270 glazed tiles. Shortly before the wall was to be complete, one of the tiles fell and broke. This meant that the project couldn't be completed on time, which would have led to the beheading of the craftsmen involved. Luckily a carpenter managed to make a replacement tile out of wood that looked like the original. The emperor never noticed the difference, and the craftsmen kept their heads.

Wandering between the city walls (Photo by Joe)

Perhaps the biggest shock of the trip for Joe began while at the Forbidden City. Joe saw a baby whose pants looked to have split in the behind. He pointed the baby out and commented about how unfortunate that was, and how his poor mother must be trying to cover him up. Later, I spotted another baby's butt hanging out a split in the seat of his pants, and that's when we realized this was a deliberate style. Before long we saw one mother let her young child squat down in a corner by one of the buildings, pull the split in her pants apart, and urinate right there. We were stunned. This place was once considered to be the emperor's palace for hundreds of years. Now kids are pissing on it. The same episode repeated itself later right in front of us on the sidewalk outside the Summer Palace. I thought Joe might have a heart attack from the look of shock on his face. No question we ain't in Kansas anymore, Todo... this was like some total opposite Bizarro world from Japan. (Though... now that I think about it... Japanese men seem to have no quibbles about peeing in public sometimes, too...)

Joe felt too creepy photographing it, so here's a picture from Flickr Creative Commons so you can get an idea what I'm talking about:

What exactly's the point of pants, then? (Photo by Kongharald)

Talking to the workers in our hostel later, we learned that this is a pretty common thing in China for kids who aren't 100 percent potty trained yet. Makes it easier to go without having to wrangle with your clothes while you're squatting and all that. And it saves on the expense of diapers.

As I said: China... A charm all its own...

(To be continued...)

Yukata Festival

2010-06-06T23:17:00.001+09:00

Kids are always cutest in yukata

Toukasan, also known as the Yukata Festival, happens the first weekend in June and marks the beginning of summer in Hiroshima. It's one of the biggest festivals of the year here, and also one of my favorites.

The Yukata Fest is your standard Japanese street festival with plenty of street vendors and, of course, thousands of people wandering around in colorful yukata (lightweight summer kimono). Seeing so many people in colorful, festive yukatas — especially the children, they're darling — is a real treat and always leaves me in a cheerful mood.

I took some lessons to learn how to put on my yukata, so I do know how, though I'll be honest: I really didn't feel like messing with it this weekend, so I didn't wear it to the festival after all. On the up-side, I got lots of stuff done.

Some images from this year's festival (and a few from last year's, too):

Yakitori (grilled chicken on a stick)

Aag! Cuteness...is...killing me!

Yukata and super dos!

Flavoring for snow cones

Bird whistles... with a Japanese twist

Guys in yukata...

...and girls in yukata.

Hanging bags of candied fruit. YUM!

As the Japanese say, "banana choco"

Blue candied apples featuring Doraemon, famous child cartoon character

Bouncy ball vendor

Who doesn't love bouncy balls?

HipPop Monster!

2010-05-21T17:50:00.002+09:00

Engrish is everywhere in Japan, and by this point I am so used to seeing my native language horribly butchered that it doesn't even really register most of the time. However, now and then you do still come across a real gem. This is one of those times.

I was in the Fuji Grand department store near my house, in the kids' section, where there are a bunch of stickers and notebooks. A child's address book on the bottom shelf caught my eye and when I picked it up, this is what greeted me on the front cover:

Well, you can see it for yourself. A baby's ass with a smiley face drawn on it exclaiming "Nice to meet you!" as it hovers over a big city skyline, a little girl above the baby's butt informing us "It's so cute!" and a baby boy in the corner with the commentary "Oh My God!" and "Shit! My hip is the monster..."

NO CLUE what any of this is about.

Let's turn it over to see the back cover, shall we?

Yo! Yo! Check it up! "My hips were monster when getting up in the morning!!"

On the inside were several pages of very amusing stickers. You can click the pictures to enlarge these.

I do have to admit that the baby wearing the bat ears saying "Ga Ha Ha Ha Ha!!" is awfully cute. But is he a bigger charmer than the baby in the bottom right corner with a butt that proclaims "I'm hungry"?

Also love the stickers in the bottom right corner here with the blank baby's face stating "Unbelievable!", as well as the baby bottom saying "Feel so good!"

I was tempted to buy this but I really didn't have any use for a child's address book, and the rings in the binder were such that I didn't think I could find other blank pages to insert. So for a few minutes I was just the weird gaijin photographing stuff in the notebook section. This embarrasses Joe, but it really doesn't bother me.

Spring visit to Mitaki-dera

2010-05-20T17:30:00.004+09:00

Statue at Mitaki Temple

Earlier this spring when the cherry blossoms were in bloom I took a day off work so I could check out the cherry blossoms at Mitaki Temple without having to beat the crowds off with a stick. It was a gorgeous day, bright and sunny without being too warm, and I was exceedingly happy not to spend it at my desk.

I was surprised to find relatively few cherry trees on the temple grounds itself, though there was a whole lane of cherry blossoms leading up to the temple grounds, as well as a large cemetery dotted with blossoms along the way. A few of those pictures got folded into the post about cherry blossoms.

Despite the overall lack of cherry blossoms, Mitaki was stunning as usual. I ended up meditating for a long time sitting alone in the middle of a silent bamboo forest.

God, I am going to miss this place.

More photos of the red-clad jizo statues I find so fascinating:

Even a tiny snake statue gets a red beret (and some offerings).

Love this tree.

A couple of many stone carvings that dot the sides of the cliffs:

One thing I always find strange are the junk food offerings that people set in front of the rows of statues and carved stone tablets beside the temple.

Inside of Mitaki Temple

I'll be back again.

Some globetrotting Peeps

2010-05-19T17:20:00.001+09:00

Since we came to Japan, my parents have been kind enough to occasionally send packages from home with certain necessities or gifts. The latest package was a box including a bounty of Easter candy. Usually the packages take one week to get here, but when Mom and Dad's package hadn't arrived three weeks after they'd sent it, I'd given up on ever seeing it. I imagined some postal workers somewhere were enjoying our Peeps.

Finally the package did indeed show up at my school, a bit worse for wear but still in one piece and, miraculously, unopened. But the real surprise came when I inspected the papers stuck to the top of the box:

It seems our package made a detour to Sri Lanka on the way from Ohio to Hiroshima. How that happened is anyone's guess, but it was kinda neat to see the package had gone all that way.

As for the Peeps, they tasted even better than I remembered. Thanks Mom and Dad.

Cherry blossoms in Hiroshima

2010-05-18T17:33:00.001+09:00

Cherry blossom season is a special time in Japan, one regarded with much reverence. Every year around early April the Hiroshima landscape bursts into a cloud of ethereal pink blossoms that stay just 10 days before unceremoniously fading away almost before you can notice.

The Japanese take advantage of their arrival by planning picnics under the blossoms. During hanami (literally, flower watching) season, the parks fill with people splayed out on plastic blue tarps covered with all manner of Japanese snacks and sake.

I enjoyed the blossoms in a number of spots this year, including my own neighborhood, Peace Park, Mitaki Temple and Senkoji Park in Onomichi city. It's always a pleasure to slow down and appreciate the cherry blossoms, and there's no doubt we'll miss this piece of Japan when we go.

Some more photos:

Sakura with Japanese lantern in Onomichi

Giant cherry tree on my way to work:

Around Mitaki Temple:

In Hiroshima's Peace Park by the Atomic Bomb Dome:

Playing dress-up with kimono and yukata

2010-05-17T18:38:00.002+09:00

Me, wearing a traditional kimono.

When my Japanese teacher, Yoshiko, asked me recently if I'd be interested in learning how to wear a kimono and yukata (summer kimono), I figured this was one opportunity I shouldn't pass up. Joe bought me a yukata a couple years ago as an anniversary gift, but I'd never actually worn it, in part because I didn't know how to put it on myself and in part because I wasn't sure I could clean it properly afterward. But it would be a shame to leave Japan without wearing the yukata, or even understanding how to wear it for that matter, so on a couple weekends this spring I went with Yoshiko to learn all about it. I assumed that all Japanese people know how to put on kimono and yukata, but it turns out this assumption was wrong — Yoshiko was learning for the first time, too. Apparently it is not a skill all children learn, but rather something passed down from generation to generation.

On the first Saturday afternoon, Yoshiko, Joe and I went to a community center in her neighborhood where there were a number of other Japanese ladies and a French woman being dressed up in kimono by some older Japanese women.

Me with my Japanese teacher, Yoshiko

The process of putting this thing on was MUCH more complicated than I ever realized. It took two ladies working together around half an hour to put this thing on me. Imagine my surprise when they told me that they had been taking lessons for ONE YEAR to learn how to properly dress people in kimono. In Japan there are in fact licensed professional kimono dressers. The event we were attending was actually the culmination of their course — after taking lessons for a year, they were finally getting some real-life practice dressing real people in kimono rather than dummies. Needless to say, I was not able to learn in one hour how to properly dress myself in a kimono, but it was still a very enlightening experience.

There are at least 12 parts to the kimono that must be assembled in very specific ways. (There are many layers and strings and other pieces underneath it that you can't even see.) How it's worn also depends on your marital status. The ladies hadn't realized I was married and dressed me with long sleeves that draped almost to the floor, which is usually done to signify a woman is single. I actually didn't even realize this until I saw the pictures later and realized my kimono looked different from the other ladies'.

The kimono doesn't look so uncomfortable to wear, but it is. There are a number of pieces underneath tied very tightly to keep everything held together just so. The pink part across the middle (the obi) was very stiff and tight, as well. It was hard to breathe in all the way. Kind of reminded me of wearing my wedding dress, actually...

Joe and me

The yukata is more comfortable and a bit less complex. The second Saturday I spent with Yoshiko, we went to the house of one of the women who dressed me in the kimono and learned how to put on yukata. I think all told learning and practicing the steps took around two hours.

Yukata time! I'm in the center, Yoshiko is at left, the teacher at right.

Probably the most difficult part of putting on the yukata is properly assembling the obi, which is the stiff pink fabric in the middle.

I probably can't remember all the steps exactly off the top of my head, but at least now that I've practiced it I should be able to get it right with a little refresher from some YouTube videos. I'm hoping to wear my yukata to Hiroshima's Yukata Festival in June, so my skills will be put to the test then.

Scuba diving in the Kerama Islands, Okinawa

2010-05-16T16:40:00.004+09:00

Me (on the left) with two diving buddies

While in Okinawa, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to experience the islands' world class SCUBA diving. I was able to do three dives in the Kerama Islands while we were there, and it was awesome. I am truly, truly blessed.

When Joe had told my supervisor about the cheap plane tickets we got to Okinawa, her husband decided to get in on the action as well and planned a weekend down there, so he was my diving buddy. It was nice to be able to dive with a friend (especially one with a camera equipped to take pictures underwater — all these pictures are his). We rented our equipment from "marine club an", a one man diving shop that I can highly recommend. The owner did not speak English, but he was super nice and patient, so we managed well enough.

The Kerama Islands are a 20-mile boat ride from Okinawa's main island, and they're known as one of the top dive sites in the world. I didn't bring my camera because I didn't want to chance it getting wet, so I wasn't able to photograph the stunning islands we were diving around, but it truly looked like something out of a calendar — emerald water, rocky islands rising sharply out of the sea, pristine beaches on deserted islands.

Say hello to Nemo!

Being early March, the water was around 72 degrees, chilly enough to require a full wet suit, including hood, and gloves. With the wet suit on, I didn't feel cold.

Visibility was 20-25 meters (21-27 yards), which was much better than what I experienced last fall in Kochi-ken, though not as good as it can get in Okinawa. We were diving to a depth of 10-20 meters (32-65 feet). One interesting feature of the dives around these islands were the huge underwater cliffs.

Black-headed sea snake — yes, highly poisonous.

I saw a number of the same fish that I saw in Kochi-ken, though not all. The indisputable highlight of the diving though? Swimming with a sea turtle.

When we arrived at the site for the second dive, the guide told us that this was an area where the sea turtles liked to go, but we needed to get our gear on quickly and get in the water, because they would swim away once they saw lots of divers in the water (We were on a large boat with divers from a number of dive shops). We did and sure enough, soon after our dive began we saw one lone sea turtle swimming our way.

It was a really surreal feeling to witness this. He swam past us, slowly and surely, flapping his fins as though he were flying. He paid us no mind as he passed by. I swam toward him to get a good look and got within a few feet of him. Incredible.

The other awesome find on this trip was a couple of whitetip reef sharks. Don't worry, they weren't exactly man eaters — maybe 3 feet long. The guide led us to them in a cave on the bottom of the ocean and shined a light on them. They were just hanging out motionless on the sea floor.

Here's me holding a long, black sea cucumber handed to me by the guide. It was squishy like a sponge.

And a few last pics:

Yellow oxfish

Turkey moray eel

Moon grouper

The Chinese garden: Marvel of man and nature

2010-05-15T23:15:00.005+09:00

My Okinawan souvenirs. Aren't they cute? (Photo swiped from the Net)

Hundreds of years ago, Okinawa had a close trade relationship with China, and Chinese influences are still apparent today all over the islands. Perhaps the most ubiquitous souvenirs for sale were pairs of shisa, a creature from Okinawan mythology that's a cross between a lion and a dog. Shisa serve as guardians to ward off evil, and hence are often found on rooftops and around entrances.

In our wanderings around Naha, we stumbled across a traditional Chinese garden and decided to go exploring. The garden, Fukushu-en, was gorgeous and turned out to be one of my favorite parts of the trip.

My Internet research tells me that Fukushu-en was built entirely with wood and stone from the Chinese city of Fuzhou, Naha's sister city. This place really took my breath away. Walking through it, I often thought that everywhere I looked felt like a picture.

I'm no expert on the differences between Japanese and Chinese gardens, but I have to admit that I kind of preferred this garden to the Japanese gardens I've visited. Japanese gardens seem to be designed with a lot of meticulous landscaping and careful thought in the use of plants so that flowers are always in bloom no matter the time of year. Sections of the gardens are designed to highlight these flowers when they are in bloom. More emphasis in the Chinese garden seemed to be placed on the creation of graceful structures that flowed naturally with the landscape. Chinese gardens are designed to achieve a balance between architecture, rocks, water and plants (feng shui and all that). The swooping curves of the structures in Fukushu-en were really lovely.

The waterfall you see above actually had a caves built into the rocks behind the waterfall so that you could sneak inside and look at the garden from behind the waterfall.

Not only was looking out at the landscape from the garden's buildings a treat, but so was looking up. Take this pagoda for example:

From the inside looking up:

Or this little gazebo:

Looking up:

The level of detail we encountered in places was truly extraordinary, like these columns that had intricate dragons carved into them.

These dragons actually had free-standing stone balls in their mouth that could be rolled around but were too large to be removed from the mouth.

Last but not least, a door knocker. Because old door knockers are cool.

I really could have spent all day in this place, taking photos and relaxing. It was this little oasis of calm in the midst of the city, and I found it so fascinating that it makes me want to learn more about the Chinese culture.

Tacos, rootbeer and pineapple in paradise: Okinawa

2010-05-09T21:22:00.006+09:00

Okinawa in early March. Beautiful beach — too cold for swimming.

Time to catch up. So let's go!

Remember how we went to Yokohama for a work conference in early March? The conference was to help JETs who are leaving the program and returning to their home countries this summer prepare for that transition and get ready to find a new job. The months are winding down now on our contract, and we had to tell the powers that be at the Board of Education when we would leave Japan so they could purchase our plane ticket home. So the date's now set — we'll be flying home for good Wednesday, August 18. (And yes, we will graciously accept all baked goods you might think of giving us to welcome us back *cough cough* chocolate chip cookies!)

With August creeping closer and closer, we've been more motivated to make plans to go see places and do things that we really want to do before we leave Japan. And one of those places was Okinawa, the string of islands that extends from Japan's southern tip all the way to Taiwan. It's subtropical, it's sunny, it's beautiful. It'd have been a shame to miss it. So rather than head directly back to Hiroshima at the end of the conference, which ended on a Wednesday, we flew to Okinawa instead and finished out the week there.

You're probably familiar with Okinawa, right? Famous for the Battle of Okinawa at the end of World War II, during which one-quarter of the civilian population of Okinawa died. The U.S. was trying to seize Okinawa to use as a base for invading mainland Japan. The Japanese waged numerous kamikazi attacks — more than 1,500 planes — and there were mass casualties on both sides. When it became apparent that the Allies were winning, many Okinawan civilians committed mass suicide, with families gathering around grenades (given to them by Japanese soldiers) or leaping off cliffs. Wikipedia informs me that some historians believe that Okinawa led directly to the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, as a way to avoid a ground invasion of the Japanese mainland. Since the Japanese were so fierce in their defense of Okinawa, with so many casualties and mass suicides, military strategists looked for an alternative way to subdue the mainland.

Okinawa has been in the news often recently because there's been a big push by the Japanese to move the U.S. Futenma military base out of Okinawa. The current prime minister of Japan pledged during his campaign to oust the base, but he recently went back on that promise and now says it's not realistic. I'm not sure if this is a big story in the U.S. but it's gotten a lot of attention in Japan. In late April around 90,000 protesters in Okinawa held a rally against the base. Luckily that stuff wasn't going on when we visited.

It was a little early in the year for the trip, actually. Going in March meant there wouldn't be a ton of tourists yet and the weather would be very pleasant, not too hot. The downside was that the sea was still too cold for swimming. I wasn't terribly bothered by this though since I planned to go SCUBA diving, and Joe isn't so interested in swimming in the ocean with all its creepy crawly stingy bitey creatures.

Joe booked us a budget hotel in the red light district. He didn't know it was in the red light district. But it most definitely was. Every night there would be a line of dodgy looking pimpy guys dressed in black, wearing sunglasses, gathered around the front doors of clubs lining the street leading up to our hotel. Really no idea what they were doing, but they made me a little uneasy. Come to think of it, that might have been the only time I've ever felt remotely unsafe in Japan. Not really unsafe. Just uncomfortable. It was shady. But with a guy as big as Joe with me I really don't have to worry.

The first thing we did Thursday morning was head to the only public beach we could find on our map of Naha. This is what we found:

Nooooooooooooooooooo!

I was a bit perplexed why the Japanese ran this highway right in front of this beautiful beach, but there must have been a good reason. Right? Looking at the map again, we realized the picture of the beach had been taken from the highway so that it wasn't shown. Of course we could see the highway clearly drawn on the map in front of the beach, but I guess it just hadn't registered. The water was a beautiful turquoise nonetheless, and we got to watch some Russian dudes in Speedos go for a swim — the only ones hearty enough to attempt such a thing in those still very chilly waters. Later we caught a bus out of town to a resort where we spent time on the beach pictured at the top of this post.

It really would have been better if we could drive in Okinawa, as there's not much in the way of public transportation. But with our international driver's licenses having long since expired (they were only good for one year after we left the U.S.), we weren't able to rent a car. So we had to make do sticking close to Naha.

Aside from the beach, Okinawa itself had an overall more relaxing vibe than the rest of Japan. I've often heard Japanese people say that Okinawa feels like a foreign country. There are plenty of taco joints there, the clothing is a bit more relaxed, the public transportation's not so great and the local dialect is significantly different. All true, though I wouldn't go as far as saying that it didn't feel like Japan. There was still an awful lot of concrete and characterless buildings crowded one on top of the other, just like the rest of Japan. It basically felt like Japan with a little more kitschy tourist vibe in spots. Case in point:

Obama says "Irasshaimase" (Welcome, At your service.) And his chest says "Oppai" (Boobs). I wonder what the Japanese would think if we posted signs like this of Japan PM Yukio Hatoyama in Hawaii? Hmmmm...

On the walk down the shopping arcade we came across these traditional Japanese shamisen featuring snakeskin, camouflage or goya, the bumpy bitter melon so popular in Okinawan cuisine. Wanna jam on one of these?

We ate a lot of goya chanpuru (bitter melon pictured at left cooked with tofu and Spam — swiped this pic from the Net) and tacos, and also paid a visit to the A&W restaurant for root beer floats, something you don't find elsewhere in Japan (most Japanese people hate root beer). Nago's Pineapple Park was a bit too far away for us to easily reach, so we hit a local pineapple joint instead to taste tested pineapple wine. It was truly awful. I really wanted to like it, really did, but... it was bad.

Other points of interest: Shuri Castle (meh). A traditional Chinese garden (gorgeous). SCUBA diving (incredible). I'll talk more about the latter two in the next posts.

Where I've been

2010-05-09T18:26:00.005+09:00

Leaves at Mitaki Temple on a fine spring day.

So I've been gone a while. Maybe you've noticed. Life kinda picked up speed this spring and I simply have not been able to keep up with documenting it all. Since my last post about our jaunt to Yokohama, Joe and I have gone into traveling overdrive, visiting Okinawa, China, Hong Kong and Macau. There was cherry blossom season and all its accompanying flower gazing, and a couple of kimono/yukata wearing lessons, and a lovely afternoon spent at Mitaki Temple. Plus I've picked up two new conversation partners that I'm meeting with each week.

And while I haven't been writing here on Lost in Transition, I've still been periodically contributing to JetWit.com and working quite a bit on the Wide Island View, the Hiroshima JET newsletter turned webzine that I edit with my partner in crime, Joshua Zimmerman. Besides writing some pieces for JET publications in other prefectures to help cross promote our publications, I also recently wrote an article for the May edition of the JET alumni magazine in New York, which will be published soon. And, feather in our cap, the Wide Island View was just named the Best Online Resource of the year by National AJET, which I'm really happy about. I've been working with some of the NAJET representatives and other JET publication editors on creating a new national JET webzine, basically a larger version of the Wide Island View that will make it easy for JETs in every prefecture to create their own online publication in a centralized space.

So things have been fine, just BUSY. But I hate getting so behind in the blog, so I'll be writing more soon about it all. Just thought you should know.

Wandering 'round Yokohama's Chinatown

2010-03-22T19:54:00.015+09:00

In early March Joe and I went to Yokohama, a suburb of Tokyo, to attend a conference for JETs who will be leaving the program and returning to their home countries this summer. While we were there we paid a visit to Chinatown.

Although Yokohama's Chinatown is one of the largest Chinatowns in the world, it was much different from the ones I've seen in San Francisco and Bangkok in that it was so much more sedate. The other Chinatowns I've visited have had a crowded, frenetic atmosphere, but this one was clean and peaceful, without too many people milling around. Though, I suppose that could have been because we visited during business hours on a Wednesday afternoon.

It seems that the dish of choice in this Chinatown is shark fin soup. A number of restaurants we passed were serving it, though we didn't realize this until after we'd already eaten lunch and really started walking around. I don't think I would have tried it anyway though. It's a delicacy, so it's expensive, and plus I think I have a problem with the idea of sharks being killed just so we can eat their fins.

My Japanese teacher tells me that the fins don't have much of a taste at all. They just soak up the flavor of the broth.

Another interesting dish we passed on the street: pigs feet. I'd just eaten so I didn't try this... but it doesn't seem very appetizing anyway.

Plenty of places also were selling nikuman, steamed buns with some meat inside. Joe and I absolutely love these things. You can buy them in any Japanese convenience store, and we're definitely going to miss them when we leave Japan.

All previews of things to come, since Joe and I will be taking a trip to China later this spring.

Plum blossoms at Shukkeien Garden

2010-03-20T21:52:00.002+09:00

One thing about Hiroshima that I really love is how there are always flowers blooming no matter what time of year it is. The weather is mild enough to allow this, and the Japanese are very conscientious about planning their gardens so various flowers bloom year-round. Consequently, winter is not nearly so dreary around here as it is back in Ohio.

I still remember the spring we had in Ohio before moving to Japan. It was the tail end of winter and the weather was uncharacteristically warm. We walked around town admiring the tulips and other flowers that bloomed during this warm snap. Then, in true Ohio style, the mercury dipped some 30 or 40 degrees overnight and the freeze killed everything. So much for the flowers that spring. You could say I was a bit pissed.

That doesn't happen in Hiroshima. The weather here is very stable and predictable, with a slow, steady roll between each season.

In February the major flower to bloom is the plum blossom. They come out about a month before the cherry blossoms, and though they're not as loved by the Japanese as cherry blossoms, they look pretty similar.

The small but excellent Japanese garden in Hiroshima city, Shukkeien Garden, features a grove of plum trees that burst into clouds of white and pink petals come February. Here are a few pictures from our trip there on the last day of February.

The mystery of the randoseru

2010-03-16T20:32:00.004+09:00

With spring break rapidly approaching and the beginning of a new school year coming up in April, now seems as good a time as ever to talk about Japanese school supplies. Specifically, backpacks.

All elementary school children in Japan carry the same style backpack, called a randoseru. The randoseru are sturdy bags made of leather or a similar kind of synthetic material. They look like this:

This kind of backpack has caught the interest of my sister-in-law, who is an elementary school teacher in Indiana. She's been collecting various Japanese objects to use in her classroom to teach her students a little about Japan, and she was interested in getting her hands on one of these. So last Christmas I made a point to stop and look at them when I was in the Sogo Department Store downtown.

...and received perhaps the biggest sticker shock of my life:

That's right, the above bag is 60,900 yen. Using a conversion rate of 90.6 yen to the dollar, that makes this bag ... $672. $672 for a backpack? What, is it diamond studded? Lined with mink fur? Does the bag perform sexual favors? What on earth?

After rationalizing that I must be looking at a luxury brand name bag for rich kids (who can afford bags that perform sexual favors), I went to look at other racks of randoseru in the store.

Same story.

These? 45,150 yen ($498).

Oo! How 'bout this pink one?

Oh, only 39,900 yen ($440). Maybe that's the fake leather.

I checked other department stores and found similar prices there as well. I guess I don't have to tell you that my sister-in-law didn't get a Japanese backpack for Christmas.

To be fair, elementary school children are given their randoseru in first grade and use the same bag all six years of elementary school, so they are durable bags. And when you figure that a lot of American school kids end up buying a number of backpacks over the course of elementary school, that adds up too. But, the Japanese families are still clearly spending much more.

It's beyond me how these bags can cost so much. Yes, a fine leather bag wouldn't be cheap, but $600? Really? Why are these bags so significant? Why are Japanese parents willing to pay such ludicrous prices? Why does a little kid need such an expensive bag? Seems to me people are getting fleeced by some big corporate executives who are undoubtedly laughing all the way to the bank. It's just one of many aspects of Japanese culture I have yet to understand.

Farewell, sweet stove

2010-03-15T21:09:00.002+09:00

I'm not sure if I've mentioned this before, but Joe's certainly heard me complain enough about it: Japan doesn't use central heating or insulation. Windows are single pane. Needless to say, though Hiroshima does not morph into the arctic tundra each winter, it is still damn cold.

Lucky for me, the main teachers' office does have a few electric heaters, though by themselves they're not powerful enough to keep everyone out of hats and gloves while they work. To provide proper warmth, they bring out a kerosene stove. As you can see in the picture above, I am lucky enough this year to be seated at the desk directly next to the stove, so I have had the next best thing to a fireplace just a few feet away. Every time I'd leave my desk to go freeze my ass off in the bathroom or break room, I'd come back in and warm up again in front of the stove. In case you're wondering, they place a kettle of water on top to steam off so the air doesn't get too dry.

The stove basically serves as the school's water cooler. Everyone comes and wastes a few minutes getting toasty by the stove. So if I'm not busy there's usually someone hovering near my desk to chat with.

Once in a while it's a little stinky, but there seems to be enough people coming and going from the office that I suppose we get enough ventilation. I haven't asphyxiated yet, anyway.

Despite the electric heaters up by the ceiling and this kerosene stove, the area beneath my desk still manages to feel like a refrigerator. I combat that with a mini electric heater under my desk. Between all these heat sources and my blanket, I manage to stay warm in the office during the winter. The classroom, well — that's another story. More than half my classes are in a room with a stove as the only heat source, and they are very chilly over the winter. That same room also lacks an air conditioner, so it absolutely roasts in the summer time, too. American kids don't know how good they have it what with their central heating and air conditioning and all.

Anyway, the whole point of all this is to say that today they turned off the stove. Or rather, they never turned it on. It was a gloomy rainy day today but the temperature's been slowly rising, so I guess they figured the stove's not needed anymore. So today I mourn the loss of my beloved stove. On the bright side, it's just another reminder that the cherry blossoms will be here in a couple weeks.

A little local flavor in Kyushu

2010-03-14T23:10:00.003+09:00

I just want to share a few last photos from our trip around Kyushu that didn't fit in to the other posts. Kyushu had it's own quirky character. I really liked the place.

For one thing, the first thing that greeted us outside Beppu train station was this bizarre statue:

The words engraved on it in English say "The man called 'Shiny Uncle' who loved children." And there's a baby demon riding his coattails. Creeeeeepy! Yet delightfully absurd! This is apparently the way the people of Beppu have chosen to immortalize the founder of their great city.

Another cool thing about Beppu? This dude.

This is actually a portable shrine that can be carried through the streets. Wikipedia informs me this guy is considered a tengu, a class of supernatural creatures found in Japanese folklore, and also one of the best known monster-spirits. For a long time they were seen as disruptive demons and harbingers of war, but over time their image has softened and they are now seen as protective spirits of the mountains and forests.

So this guy with the long red nose made random appearances around town. There'd be little images of him posted in various places along the street, above shops or whatever.

Another thing I enjoyed about Beppu was a very wabi-sabi traditional old street market that we had to walk through between the train station and our hotel each day. It was basically a lot of gray-haired Japanese with modest stalls selling clothes, fruit, fish and various Japanese foods. The fish in this place was so fresh that some of the fish laying on ice were still gasping for air (including these).

Later on in the trip in Kumamoto, we stumbled across a couple of places that made for a good chuckle along the city's main shopping arcade, the first one being this Thai restaurant:

We're used to seeing some pretty unfortunate Engrish in Japan, but this was just way out there. Could something really be mistranslated this horribly?

Turns out no. In sharing the photo on Facebook, a friend more in-the-know than us informed us that this is a restaurant chain that funds sexual health and family planning clinics in Thailand. Free condoms with every meal. Their slogan? "Our food is guaranteed not to cause pregnancy." Oo, my mouth's watering. Tempting, but we skipped it to eat raw horse instead.

Further up the street one of the shops had a display out on the street with various weight loss supplements, including...

Jesus Body. Jesus Body! Now who wouldn't want a Jesus Body, lean, rippling muscles, six pack! Oooh boy! Too bad we can't reverse this on the Japanese and advertise Buddha Body supplements back home... guess we don't need any help achieving that, huh.

Slick Jesus Body package designers woo us with this message:

New discovery to be kept secret from others.
This discovery is a secret.
I can lay it down because I am correct.
We will not make you sorry.
Pleasure to have the real thing.
I really longed for this.

Japanese Engrish is so cute. Who could make Jesus into something cute? The Japanese.

Horsin' around in Kumamoto

2010-02-27T18:43:00.006+09:00

Night view of Kumamoto Castle from our guesthouse on the hillside. (Photo by Joe)

From Mt. Aso, we headed to Kumamoto, home to what is generally considered to be the finest castle in Japan after Himeji. Unlike Himeji, Kumamoto-jo is a reconstruction, since it burned in 1877 during a rebellion by samurai warriors. The castle did, however, withstand the attacks by the rebel army and "proved its worth as an impregnable castle."

The plum blossoms were beginning to bloom while we were there, sending splashes of pink and white across the muted winter landscape.

A sign on the grounds informed me that "The stone foundations with their unique sloping lines and curves and their massive impenetrability are famous throughout the nation as the 'walls that repel enemies'."

The stone walls definitely were impressive and higher than the ones we've seen at other castles. It seemed impossible to imagine scaling these behemoths.

One interesting feature of Kumomoto is the built-in slots for dropping stones or other weapons on attackers, as well as the covers that can be pulled down over the windows.

The museum inside was nicely done and well labeled in English. I particularly liked the miniature models of the castle and grounds, and this illustration showing a cross section of the castle's interior.

Besides the castle, we also paid a visit to Suizenji Jojuen Garden. The interesting aspect of this garden is that it was built to represent the 53 Stations of the Tokaido Road, the old road that linked Tokyo and Kyoto. It even has a miniature Mt. Fuji.

You can imagine what this looks like when everything turns green.

While in Kumamoto, we made a point of trying the area's specialty dishes, including some tasty garlic ramen, lotus root stuffed with spicy Japanese mustard (karashi renkon) and raw horse meat (basashi).

Yes, we ate raw horse meat. I didn't even know you could do that before moving to Japan. It made me think of the time when I was maybe 13 and I went to Florida to visit my Nana on spring break. During the visit I asked her if we could eat at McDonald's. Her disgusted response: "Ah, it's all horse meat!"

Basashi and karashi renkon

The Japanese aren't so turned off by that idea, though, and in fact the stuff is considered a delicacy, because it was a little pricey. Surprisingly, the horse meat didn't have a very strong taste of any kind. It really just reminded me of tuna sushi, but chewier. I feel like I should have felt guilty about trying this, but truthfully I did not. I just tried not to think about it.

The karashi renkon was good but that mustard was seriously spicy. It kinda makes its way up through your sinuses 'til you feel like your brain is burning. But I liked it!

And now I have been up the Aso!

2010-02-26T23:59:00.004+09:00

Soon after we first arrived in Japan, I remember buying a bottle of mineral water from a vending machine. The label featured a photo of a mountain and the slogan "Straight from the Aso." Joe and I got a good chuckle out of that... Mineral water. Straight from the Aso. HAR HAR HAR HAR!

Turns out "the Aso" is a very famous mountain in Japan, or rather a volcano (just like Mt. Fuji). And not just any volcano, either — one of the world's largest active volcanoes. The springs that flow from Mt. Aso are so exceedingly pure that people dip containers straight into the springs and take the water home for drinking and cooking. Hence the slogan on the water bottle.

Mt. Aso as seen during our bus ride to the ropeway station.

The caldera of "Aso-san", as it is called by the Japanese, measures 15.5 miles in diameter and is actually home to a small town. Within Aso's caldera are several other volcanic peaks, the highest of which is Nakadake. Nakadake remains active today and continuously emits gases and occasionally erupts. Tourists can ride a ropeway up to the top of Mt. Aso and peer into the crater, which is filled with a vibrant turquoise-colored lake that looks like this:

Photo swiped from Wikipedia

This is of course what we were hoping to see when we went to Aso after leaving Beppu, but we were not so lucky. The weather was pretty lousy when we arrived at Aso. It was very cold, cloudy and drizzly in spots. We took the ropeway to the top only to discover the entire peak was encased in thick fog.

Walkway leading to the crater

Many signs were posted around the area warning visitors that the volcano spews sulfur dioxide gases that can shock the respiratory system and cause life threatening physical reactions from those with asthma, bronchitis or a heart condition. Visitors were advised to carry wet tissues to cover their nose and mouth if they felt any "abnormalities".

Inside the ropeway building were some maps with lights at various points around the rim. The lights would go on when the gases became dangerously strong over certain points.

Along the way to the rim we saw several concrete shelters in case of an eruption, though, as my friend Adam pointed out before our trip, one has to wonder if these bunkers wouldn't morph into massive broiler pans to roast the poor folks trapped inside on such an occasion.

Once we reached the rim, this was the view we got:

No pretty green lake for me. *tear*

We tried to walk along the rim toward Nakadake but it wasn't long before we were socked with strong waves of gas that quickly changed our minds. After purchasing a couple yellow sulfur rocks as souvenirs from an unmanned table, we scooted on back to the ropeway station where indeed the warning lights were lit up for the area where we'd just been walking. Not inclined to go back out for another lung-full of poisonous gas, we just caught the next ride back down the ropeway and said so long to stinky Aso.

The weirdest thing I have ever seen in Japan

2010-02-25T23:59:00.002+09:00

Warning: Not Safe For Work.

I've seen a lot of weird things in Japan. I mean, you don't have to look far to find the weird side of Japan — it's half of all the media reports on Japan anyway. The Naked Man Festival, the peeing boy truck, the tanuki statues, it's a long list.

But this thing I saw in Beppu totally takes the cake. I mean, this was just so ... out there.

While touring the jigoku in Beppu, Joe and I stopped for lunch in a little ramen shop after leaving the hell with all the crocodiles. (This is, you'll recall, an area filled with tourist kitsch for the kids.) Emerging from the ramen shop, we were face to face with the suggestive mural pictured above.

Being a diligent reader of my Lonely Planet guidebook, I knew exactly what this was when I saw it: A sex museum. Yee-haw.

I figured it would be a lot of erotic paintings, sculptures and sexual artifacts and whatnot. Probably some portable penis shrines of the sort that get paraded around during Japanese fertility festivals. Whatever. But I was not prepared for what I would see inside. Oh, Japan, I should not underestimate you.

Joe and I forked over 700 yen each to the old woman manning the front counter, a large glass case filled with a wide variety of sex toys. No big surprise there. I was quite tickled by some of the merchandise, in fact.

That's really quite clever, isn't it?

Walking further in, we encountered some glass cases filled with wooden statues of phalluses and ceramic knick knacks "doing it."

Yeah, baby!

Um... Ow.

Not so weird yet right? Yeah somewhat strange, but this IS a sex museum after all, so what did we expect? Uh... Not this:

Taxidermic zebras making love against the back wall. This is where the tour takes a depraved turn. Carrying through the whole place were the squeaks and moans of a an over-excited Japanese girl in a porno playing in a theater off beyond the zebras. Appropriate background accompaniment, I suppose eh, sets the mood. Past more photographs of animals having sex, we came to this:

An animatronic orgy involving Snow White and the seven dwarfs, as well as Prince Charming and the Queen. You cannot make stuff like this up. That's Dopey in the left foreground playing with a large pair of knickers and other dwarfs looking on as one of them pleases Snow White, bare butt high in the air.

Yes, that's Grumpy on the right taking matters into his own hands, so to speak. Yes, the Queen has a dick for a nose. The worst part: when you hit a button on the outside of the exhibit, all of the characters would move. Dopey waved the underwear up and down, Grumpy flogged the dolphin, the others ducked around maneuvering for a good view of the action.

What can I say? HOLY CRAP.

The second story had more provocative interactive wax figures. One was a woman wearing a skirt that would blow up to reveal everything underneath when you hit a button. There was one of those movable claw carnival games filled with sex toys. And there was even an exhibit where you had to peek in through a small opening and hit a button. When I hit the button, a red light came on to reveal a topless woman sitting in her underwear and a split second later a sudden stream of water shot out from her underwear to hit the glass in front of my face. Made me jump.

Ah, Japan. Always an adventure.

Go to hell and back: Check!

2010-02-24T18:37:00.003+09:00

The boiling waters of Beppu.

Valentine's Day this year was red hot. Positively steaming.

We headed south to Kyushu, Japan's southernmost main island, to the famous little town of Beppu. Beppu is famous for a couple things: 1) onsen, also known as hot spring public baths, and 2) its "burning hells."

Beppu is built upon numerous geothermal hot springs, which make the town a pretty steamy place. There are numerous hot springs for bathing in, and then there are the hot springs too hot to handle — those are the burning hells, known in Japanese as jigoku. They're just for looking, not bathing.

Down the mountainside in one area of the city, eight of these hells bubble to the surface in a variety of colors. There's plenty of tourist kitsch surrounding these wonders of nature, but it was still worth the visit. Here's what we saw.

First up: Umi Jigoku (Sea Hell)

This pond of boiling turquoise water is about 656 feet deep (nearly 220 yards — think of that, well over two football fields in depth!). It was formed 1,200 years ago after a volcanic explosion.

A great deal of stinky steam poured off these hot springs. It smelled like sulfur. Not so pleasant but I didn't really mind.

As you can see, there's a basket of eggs boiling in the water. Perhaps the sulfuric water increases the eggy intensity? These hot spring boiled eggs are considered a specialty of the area, and they were sold in road side stands and even the train station.

Hot springs boiled eggs for 50 yen a piece (55 cents). I think they're covered in salt.

In sharp contrast to the Sea Hell was the nearby red hot spring. Not big enough to be one of the official eight jigoku, but pretty cool (and equally stinky).

Next up: Oniishibozu Jigoku. A.k.a. Oniishi Shaven Head Hell. So named because the hot gray mud that bubbles to the surface here resembles a bald monk's head, perfectly round and smooth and shiny.

These were cool. I stared for a long time. The mud all around the bubbles hardens into what looks like a ringed tree trunk made out of clay.

Number 3: Yama Jigoku (Mountain Hell)

Mainly a lot of steaming rocks. Penned up nearby were an unhappy hippo and icky looking monkey. Also a very sad elephant. And some flamingos that were attacking each other. Nothing like random zoo animals to make an instant kiddie attraction.

4.) Kamado Jigoku (Oven Hell)

If the unhappy hippo didn't cast enough of a touristy haze over the place, the next hell stepped it up a notch with a corny demon statue.

Kids not impressed by the unhappy hippo? Don't despair, they should really love this character and his giant...

BALLS!

Amusingly, the brochure left out those gems with a shot expertly photographed from the right angle.

The Oven Hell includes a large blue pond that changes color somewhat depending on the time of year, and some smaller ones filled with bubbling red water and brown mud.

Fifth up: Oniyama Jigoku (Demon Mountain Hell)

This Hell bubbled violently with waves splashing everywhere. Signs informed us that the force of the steam rising off this hell was strong enough to pull one and a half train cars, and indeed it was too steamy to photograph.

Supposedly all that steam creates an ideal environment for breeding crocodiles. There were dozens of crocodiles and alligators penned up nearby.

We even saw one with moss growing on its back.

That can't be good.

Number 6: Shiraike Jigoku, the White Pond Hell

According to the sign, the water is clear when it bubbles from the ground but over time it takes on a creamy white-blue hue. There were some fish tanks in a building next to the pond. They contained piranhas.

The last two hells were 1.5 miles away. There's a bus to take you there, but the next one wasn't due to arrive for another 40 minutes or so, so we decided to hoof it. Probably not the smartest decision we've ever made, as the sidewalk disappeared after the first five minutes. But, at least we got some nice views over the city and the ocean as we walked.

It was neat to see the spouts of steam dotting the city.

After a nice walk in close proximity to traffic we came to Number 7: Chinoike Jigoku the Blood Pond Hell, which is the oldest natural jigoku in Japan. It looked pretty much like the first red hot spring we saw, just bigger.

The red color comes from the red clay beneath, which dissolves in the water. The water is used as dye and is supposedly "good for skin diseases," though the sign didn't specify if that was for curing or causing them.

Last on the list was Tatsumaki Jigoku, the Water Spout Hell, an intermittent spring that shoots water every 25 minutes or so. It apparently spouts up to 65 feet, though the rocks built up over the top blocked the spray.

I could have done without all the hokey tourist melodrama — crocodiles! piranhas! blood! demons! — but I guess that's just par for the course at a site like this. I might have appreciated the lighthearted nature of it a little more if the animals weren't treated so shabbily. Still, the hot springs were intriguing. Worth the visit.

The evening after seeing the jigoku, Joe and I went to visit a really nice onsen at the Suginoi Palace. We had wanted to stay at this place, but at a minimum of $200 per night per person, it was obviously too expensive, so we opted to stay in a cheap business hotel instead and just visit its onsen for 1,000 yen ($11).

I was nervous about going. You can imagine that bathing in front of a bunch of other Japanese ladies didn't exactly fill my heart with feelings of calm and serenity. Especially not when I'd be the lone naked foreigner. Actually though, it turned out to be not a big deal at all. Here's how it worked.

The onsen provided me with a towel and wash cloth. After stripping down and stashing my belongings in a locker room, I entered the showering area where everybody was taking a shower seated on little plastic seats. There were partitions sectioning off each shower head. You're still in a big room with lots of other ladies showering, but it's sectioned off enough that you feel like you have your own little area. The onsen provided face wash, shampoo and soap, which even had a lovely limey scent since the Beppu area is famous for a kind of lime.

After showering, it's time to soak in the bath. Essentially it is like a giant swimming pool that is perhaps 3 feet deep and steaming hot. I tied my hair up so it wouldn't drag in the water (a faux pas) and set my washcloth on the ledge of the bath because you're not supposed to bring it in the bath with you and I didn't know where else to put it (by the time I got out, it had disappeared).

You can opt to bathe indoors or outdoors. I headed outside and wasted no time getting in as it was probably around 35 or 40 degrees outside. The onsen was designed with five tiers, with water from the higher steps pouring down to the lower steps. The Suginoi is situated high on the hillside overlooking the city, which made for a beautiful night view while we were in the bath.

Like this only at night with all the city lights. Photo of Suginoi stolen from the Net.

I hadn't expected to stay in the bath very long. I'd tried the public bath in our business hotel the previous evening and it was so hot that I got out after 10 minutes feeling a bit lightheaded. This was better though. Whenever I started to feel too hot, I just hoisted myself up onto the ledge and sat in the brisk winter air for a few minutes until I'd cooled down enough to get back in. Steam rolled off the smooth surface of the bath. The water came up to my chin.

At the front of the bath, on the lowest tier, the tiles were formed into reclining chairs with a wooden headrest. After a while, I snagged one of those and laid there for a very long time feeling so relaxed I was kind of half asleep. All the things that irritated me about Japan just melted away. Turns out bathing with a bunch of Japanese ladies filled me with calm and serenity after all.

Christmas in Tokyo

2010-01-31T23:59:00.003+09:00

Statue of Liberty and the Rainbow Bridge

I saw the Statue of Liberty for the first time over Christmas last month. And I didn't even go to New York.

Nope, I was able to see a miniature replica of Lady Liberty on Tokyo Bay. Who needs the Big Apple when you can go to the Big Mikan? (Mikan is what they call clementine oranges here.)

Joe and I spent three days in Tokyo over Christmas last month. We got a real kick-ass deal from a travel agency by our house — round trip shinkansen (bullet train) tickets plus three nights in a business hotel including breakfast and metro subway passes for two days, all for 35,000 yen a piece. At today's exchange rate of 90 yen to the dollar, that works out to around $390 per person. To put that in perspective, a round trip shinkansen ticket alone from Hiroshima to Tokyo usually runs around 37,000 yen ($412). So it's like we got a deal on the shink tickets and then hotel, breakfast and subway passes for Free. Yeah! Hotels in Tokyo are expensive, so you can imagine how psyched we were to get this deal.

We didn't go into Tokyo with any grand itinerary. We mainly wanted to walk around and do some sightseeing and eat a lot of international food, which is exactly what we did.

Here's a little about what we saw:

— Christmas lights

Tokyo has tons of pretty Christmas lights, which really helped to brighten up our holiday. Some of the prettiest ones were in Midtown, just a short walk from our hotel in Akasaka.

These blue lights changed formation in a kind of light show.

Lights display hanging overhead between buildings.

— Ginza

Ginza is Tokyo's upscale shopping district. While I'm not the type to window shop or buy obscenely overpriced luxury clothes, I still wanted to see it just to see it.

Disco mannequins in Ginza

We poked our heads in a couple shops, including the brand new Abercrombie & Fitch that had just opened. My Japanese teacher had told me about this while we were planning the trip, telling me with astonishment that the men in this store were shirtless. So I wasn't entirely surprised to see middle-aged women lining the sidewalk waiting to get into the store, a skinny eight-story tall building. Hoping to find a cadre of chiseled, blonde-haired, blue-eyed Norwegian boys, I waited patiently to get in. No Norwegian boys in sight, unfortunately, though there was a shirtless Japanese guy with a six-pack getting his picture taken with customers. While this could have made a memorable souvenir, I had to take a pass due to the overpowering stink of Abercrombie's crappy cologne and duck out as quickly as I could. Oh well.

Lunch was German beer and sausages in a restaurant across the street from Abercrombie, where we were seated in our own private booth. It was in a cozy little room with a sliding wooden door carved with a design with spaces in it so you could have privacy yet still see through to the restaurant outside. This place was great, and I was tempted to spend all afternoon there drinking way too much beer.

— The Skyline

Not the chili. For incredible night views of the city we headed to the observation deck on the top floor of the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building (City Hall), which actually was next to the Keio Plaza Hotel, where we stayed after first landing in Japan. It felt like a lifetime since we'd arrived at the Keio, blurry eyed from jet lag and senses on overload in such a foreign place. The views from the top of the City Hall building were just as I remembered back then — buildings and lights that stretched out forever, as far as the eye could see.

There were several souvenir shops set up in the middle of the floor with lots of bright lights that reflected off the windows, obscuring the view. That was annoying. But then, I guess that's why the view at this particular building was free, whereas you'd have to shell out $10 or so at some other observation decks. So I really couldn't complain.

— Tokyo Tower and Roppongi

I suppose we couldn't have gone to Tokyo without paying a visit to the Eiffle-Tower-esque Tokyo Tower. We walked through Roppongi, the night club district, to get to it. Yep, it's a big tower. Now we've seen it. We didn't go up because we didn't want to pay.

On the streets of Roppongi there were a lot of Nigerian dudes wearing urban duds trying to get pedestrians to go into certain clubs. It was a strange place, very un-Japan-like.

— Shrines

We hit a couple of the obligatory big shrines and temples in Tokyo, the Meiji Jingu Shrine, which sits on a wooded 175-acre complex, and Sensouji, Tokyo's oldest Buddhist temple. These were pleasant places, though nothing drastically different from many of the other shrines and temples we've seen throughout Japan.

Sensouji in Asakusa

I did enjoy browsing the shops lining the street up to Sensouji even if they were filled with a lot of the standard tourist kitsch. The hanging decorations reminded me of Charlotte's hotel room in the movie Lost in Translation.

— Harajuku

Ah, Harajuku. This area of the city is known as the favorite hangout for teenage cosplayers who like to dress up like anime characters. A bunch of them were hanging out near the entrance to the Meiji Jingu Shrine in what amounted to a giant Hot Topic convention.

Interesting outfits. I'm sure if I were 19 and Japanese with money burning a hole in my pocket, I'd probably get into this.

— Akihabara

The over-the-top fashion continued in Akihabara, the electronics district known for its maid cafes.

Akihabara

There were many maids handing out advertisements as we walked along, most covering their outfits with puffy winter coats. I asked one if it would be OK to photograph her and was surprised when she said no. After that I tried to covertly snap pictures of a few other maids on the street, but it was really difficult to get a clear shot as night set in. As soon as a maid spotted my camera she would turn her back or hide her face. It seems that photographs are normally limited only to those who pay for the privilege.

Maids on the street corner

Joe and I finally settled on a maid cafe advertised by a maid with an English sign. It turned out to be a very small, brightly lit room filled with super cheap tables and chairs arranged too close together, cheap linoleum covering the walls and a shelving unit full of electronics and sound equipment set right out in the open. The maids were young and not very pretty. Looked like they were probably just out of high school, not much if any makeup, and they were all wearing cheap black and white maid costumes that looked like they'd been sold out of a bag at a Halloween shop — and not the sexy kind either. These outfits covered all skin from their knees to their neck. This surprised me because I'd assumed the appeal of these places was sexual. Isn't the whole reason guys go to these cafes to get an eyeful of a girl in a short skirt, sexy heels and fishnet stockings? It seemed we'd unwittingly selected the unsexy maid cafe.

At any rate, our waitress was friendly enough and we ordered some coffee and cake. When she brought it to our table she set it down daintily and carefully added the cream and sugar to my coffee herself and stirred it. Then she informed us that we must chant a spell over the coffee to make it more delicious, and taught us how to do it. Together we said the spell with her while she motioned her fingers in the shape of a heart over the coffee.

Still tasted like coffee.

I was creeped out by the whole thing. I wanted to like it but I didn't. The atmosphere was all wrong — cramped and brightly lit with girls who didn't have the looks for the role. We finished our coffee and left. On the bright side, there was a really awesome kebab street vendor just outside where we got a cheap and delicious dinner.

— Shinjuku and Shibuya

Our seedy adventures continued in Shinjuku and Shibuya, the neon crazy areas famously featured in the movie Lost in Translation.

So many lighted shop signs line the streets in Shinjuku that the dead of night still looks like mid-afternoon. We went and just wandered around for a while. It is street after street after street that all look like this.

Some areas were a bit shady, and we passed some strip joints and one place with some rather...large... sex toys in the window display for all to admire.

Oh, and also this place:

Didn't see the inside. Apparently American honky tonk ladies aren't Joe's style.

We also passed several billboards for what appear to be male escorts. These appear to be the bad-ass pretty boys of Japan. Interested?

Here are some real life lookalikes:

In Shibuya we crossed the world's busiest intersection. It was very...busy.

— Tokyo National Museum

Tokyo has it's fair share of museums, but we chose to hit the National Museum, Tokyo's biggest and oldest. I'm usually not the type of person who enjoys going to museums, but I did like this one. Architecturally, it was absolutely beautiful, and the art and artifacts within also held my attention. I learned about samurai swords and armor, painted screens, kimono, lacquerware, etc. Beautiful.

— Gardens

Koishikawa Korakuen Garden

We hit a few gardens in Tokyo, including the East Garden of the Imperial Palace, the garden within the Meiji Jingu shrine complex and the Koishikawa Korakuen Garden next to Tokyo Dome. None were extraordinarily impressive, but then again December is not exactly the prime time to be admiring a Japanese garden. Unfortunately the visit to Koishikawa Korakuen was spoiled by the ungodly din pouring out of Tokyo Dome. It sounded like a giant pachinko parlor (their pinball gambling joints). In the spring, and minus the noise, I imagine Koishikawa would be quite pleasant.

— Other Stuff

So those are the highlights and here's a few more random things. Since it was Christmastime, shops everywhere were selling Christmas cakes, which are a big thing in Japan. Lovers get their darling a Christmas cake. They are small, beautifully decorated, and obscenely overpriced.

These cakes ran around 3,000 yen a piece (more than $30). Rather than shell out for a whole cake we just enjoyed a slice each at a coffee shop. I was hoping to see some deep discounts on these beauties the day after Christmas. Alas, by then they were nowhere in sight. I was not entirely surprised. There is an old saying in Japan that likens unmarried women to Christmas cake: After 25, nobody wants them. And sure enough, after the 25th, they were all gone.

Besides the Christmas cakes, we also saw a few shops selling cakes that looked like this:

I'm not sure what these things are but they certainly looked like a big loaf of bread with some sweet toppings. I am not sure if there was anything in the middle or not, but this being Japan, I would not be entirely surprised if they actually considered a plain hunk of bread with some ice cream on top a proper dessert. Joe and I have learned the rule in Japan that 99 percent of the time, sweets look much better than they taste. And so chances are if it looks like a hunk of bread... well, it ain't gonna be better than a hunk of bread.

Last but not least:

Ah, Ohio's own, right there in Tokyo. Did you know the first Wendy's opened in Columbus, Ohio? This was the first Wendy's I'd seen in Japan and it will likely be my last as I recently read an article that the Wendy's restaurants in Japan would be closing. *tear*

All in all, Tokyo was fun. Parts of it were disappointing, but other parts lived up to expectations quite well. My feet were squawking by the end — we did a ton of walking and just sightseeing. In that few days, we just scratched the surface though. If I get a chance to go back again, I'd like to spend more time ducking into Tokyo's little nooks and crannies, enjoying a few more drinks late at night, and delving a bit deeper.

Winter in Hiroshima: A season of all seasons

2009-12-31T18:18:00.002+09:00

I've been wanting for a long time to snap some snowy pictures around my neighborhood. But it doesn't snow that much in Hiroshima, and when it does it doesn't often accumulate. This afternoon, though, I peeked out the window to see I'd finally gotten my wish, on the last day of the year.

Winter's a bit funny in Hiroshima. It's not like the period of drab, gray gloom that overtakes Ohio. There are still streaks of life under that thin layer of snow. Kinda makes you wonder, what season is it really anyway?

Some shots from my neighborhood:

Where's the beef? Kobe!

2009-12-30T21:18:00.008+09:00

After plenty of hemming and hawing for several weeks this fall, Joe and I finally accepted that we really didn't want to go anywhere this Christmas. School closes down for several days over the New Year holiday, but prices are a lot higher during that period and when it came down to it, the prospect of going abroad just left us both feeling exhausted. So we just planned a couple short trips in December instead and now we're home being lazy bums till the New Year.

The first trip was a weekend in Kobe and Osaka Dec. 12 and 13. If the name Kobe doesn't ring a bell right away, think beef — Kobe beef. At $100 a pop, these aren't your ordinary everyday beef steaks. The cows that produce Kobe beef are treated like royalty as far as cows go (well, apart from the whole slaughtering thing). Legend has it that the farmers raising these particular cows give them beer and massages everyday. I've even read that some get massages with warm sake, though that seems just a bit too far over the top for me to believe. Whatever it is they do, the result is the most tender, flavorful steak in the world.

Now, there's no doubt $100 for a steak is obscene. I don't dispute that. But considering I hadn't had a real steak in two and a half years, since moving to Japan, I didn't feel TOO guilty about it. Hey, once in a lifetime thing, right? Right.

We went to a restaurant called Mouriya in downtown Kobe, where they had English menus and seated us at the griddle so we could watch the chef prepare the steaks right in front of us. Joe and I both got the top-graded A5 filet mignon lunch set, priced at 9,800 yen.

I thought the chef was finished when I photographed this, but after I took the picture he also added some bean sprouts cooked with little bits of fat he cut off from the meat. The meal also came with some soup, salad and tea.

I know this doesn't look like much, and indeed I was still hungry when I left the place (most expensive meal I'll ever eat where I walk out still hungry!), but the meat was far and away the best I've ever tasted. So soft and tender, and perfect with just a little bit of salt. I've heard people say it's so rich that they could eat just a small serving, but I didn't feel that way. My Freudian Id was urging me to reach out and snatch my neighbor's steak and eat it, too.

After lunch we hung out a while in a coffee shop before heading to the Kobe Luminarie, one of Japan's famous winter illuminations. The Luminarie was actually the whole reason for the trip, though as it turned out I ended up being more excited about eating the Kobe beef. (And, it was better than the Luminarie.)

The Luminarie runs for 12 days every year in early December and is a tribute to the rebirth of Kobe city after its destruction in a big earthquake in 1995. The installation, donated by the Italian government, is a series of arches designed to look like a cathedral. Seen from afar, they form a rather impressive tunnel of light.

Kobe Luminarie's main attraction

A kind of light castle at the end of the tunnel.

The lights were pretty, but the crowd was insane. People started lining up at least an hour before the lights switched on at 4:45, and the city had erected blockades along streets snaking throughout the downtown. Having been warned that the wait to go through can become hours long, we made sure to arrive early enough to be near the front of the line. Even so, the sheer number of people made it impossible to enjoy the lights in peace. Everyone was bumping into me, ruining photographs by sticking their cell phone cameras up into my shot, etc. Rather than getting the warm and fuzzy holiday spirit one would expect from such a fantastic lights display, I just felt like kicking a lot of people. And, I also think the lights would have been prettier in the pitch dark rather than the twilight, but again, that would've meant waiting for a couple hours.

So, that particular part of the trip was a little disappointing, though I was still glad we went since I always would have wondered about it if we hadn't gone. The next day we paid a visit to the Osaka aquarium before taking the bus back to Hiroshima.

View of Osaka aquarium from the ferris wheel (it's the oddly shaped red and blue building).

Osaka's aquarium is one of the biggest in the world, and it was pretty awesome. It's eight stories and there's a huge central tank running between several floors that contains some whale sharks, stingrays, manta rays and sea turtles, all very impressive.

Whale shark (Photo by Joe)

Whale shark again.

If Andy Rooney were a fish...

Stingray

No idea, but this is one funky fish. (Photo by Joe)

Some sort of jellyfish.

Sardines (Photo by Joe)

These look tasty. (Photo by Joe)

Aww. Can you get any cuter than this lil guy?

In the last exhibit, visitors had a chance to pet a stingray and a small shark. I did. Joe watched.

It felt very soft and slimy. Don't worry, its stinging ability had been removed. No Steve Irwin mishaps here.

Fall foliage and friendly faces

2009-12-22T20:40:00.001+09:00

The beautiful shrine across the street, end of November.

Christmas is coming, and I haven't even written about autumn yet. In my defense, the fall colors weren't at their peak in my neck of the woods until the end of November.

View of a mountain from the third floor of our apartment building in late November.

I'd been looking forward to Thanksgiving time for months — probably more than a year, in fact. That's because my friends Diane and Paul came to visit us from New York City. I used to work with Diane on the newspaper back home, and she moved to New York right after I moved to Japan.

It was so exciting to have friends visit, finally, and get to share what life is like here first hand. Countless times I remember telling Joe at our favorite neighborhood okonomiyaki joint that I couldn't wait to take Diane and Paul there. After months of anticipation, it was practically surreal to see them both walking toward us at the train station downtown.

We hit the requisite tourist spots around Hiroshima: Peace Park and the atomic bomb museum, Hiroshima Castle, Miyajima and last, Mitaki Temple (as well as that okonomiyaki joint!).

Paul, Diane, me and Joe at Miyajima

Our trip to Mitaki was actually my third that month. (You'll recall my Zen-like discovery of Mitaki last summer.) I'd gone in early November to find the leaves were just barely starting to change, and then in mid-November I actually took a day off work specifically to go to Mitaki in the middle of the week so that I could enjoy the fall foliage without the crowds. The colors were a bit muted then, though, and the place was overrun with old people. I thought I'd already missed the show.

Turned out I'd just gone too soon. The colors were fantastic while we were there with our friends, and I was happy they'd get to see the temple at its best.

On this visit I knew a bit more about what I was looking at, since I'd done some more research on Mitaki for an article in the Wide Island View.

It turns out that all these statues of children wearing red bibs and caps are called jizo. They represent a deity known as the guardian of children, particularly children who died before their parents. It makes sense that these are here because there actually was a military hospital on the site of Mitaki during World War II, and many of the atomic bomb victims were brought there to be treated. In fact, monks buried the unidentified victims there in those mossy old tombstones I photographed on the last visit.

Wikipedia has this to say about jizo:

In Japanese mythology, it is said that the souls of children who die before their parents are unable to cross the mythical Sanzu River on their way to the afterlife because they have not had the chance to accumulate enough good deeds and because they have made the parents suffer. It is believed that Jizō saves these souls from having to pile stones eternally on the bank of the river as penance, by hiding them from demons in his robe, and letting them hear mantras.

Jizō statues are sometimes accompanied by a little pile of stones and pebbles, put there by people in the hope that it would shorten the time children have to suffer in the underworld. (The act is derived from the tradition of building stupas as an act of merit-making.) The statues can sometimes be seen wearing tiny children's clothing or bibs, or with toys, put there by grieving parents to help their lost ones and hoping that Jizō would specially protect them. Sometimes the offerings are put there by parents to thank Jizō for saving their children from a serious illness.

Interesting stuff. Also, remember that horrific, spiky haired demon statue I photographed on the last trip? This one?

He, I found out, is one of the Shitenno, guardians of the four directions. Which of the four he is, I still don't know. At any rate, they are warriors that ward off evil. (I sure as heck wouldn't want to mess with this guy!)

Just a few last shots:

More guardians at the temple's entrance.

It was great to share these places with Diane and Paul. As visitors, they were seeing Japan through a set of fresh eyes, and it reminded me a lot of what it was like when I first got to Japan. Paul was eager to try all the new and novel drinks in Japan's ubiquitous vending machines, and Diane had tried her best to avoid the squat toilets, only to find herself eventually forced into using one (just as I was). They enjoyed seeing all the oddball Engrish clothing and shirts all over Japan. The Engrish hasn't lost its charm for me, though I do find that I don't always look twice anymore at certain weird stuff. Recently Joe and I were in an elevator with advertisements for restaurants in that department store. One of the restaurants was named "Goo Goo Viking" or something like that. I remember commenting to Joe, "You know, I guess that's funny isn't it? When I first got here I would have been so tickled by how wacky that is, but now I just figure... eh!" We've gotten used to buffets being called "Viking", and a restaurant called Goo Goo? Well... par for the course of the butchered English language we encounter everyday.

I digress. It was lovely having Diane and Paul here. We got up early on a Tuesday to see them off at the bus station and I was caught off guard by how suddenly very sad I felt as I watched their bus pull away. Just a little affirmation that I think it's time to go home next summer, and get back to a place where all the faces are familiar again.

A Zzzzz for effort?

2009-12-07T20:12:00.009+09:00

Snoozin' on the job

The Japanese are very sleepy people. They are experts at being able to sleep anywhere, any time. At work, in meetings, sitting on the train, standing on the train — any time they can grab a few winks, they do. Vending machines are stacked with a huge variety of espresso drinks and other super-caffeinated elixors to help them battle the Sandman.

When I first arrived in Japan, one of the things that shocked me about my school was seeing teachers sleep at their desks. It is not an uncommon sight to see various teachers put their heads down on their desks during the day and just take a nap for 20 minutes or even an hour. What's particularly shocking about this is that it happens in the main teachers' office, right in front of the vice principal.

It's the same story in class. Students will bow their heads and sleep through an entire class, completely undisturbed by the teacher, who appears not to even notice or care.

There's a kind of mutual understanding that everybody's just exhausted all the time. "Shou ga nai" as the Japanese would say — "It can't be helped."

There's good reason for all these droopy eyelids. The typical Japanese teacher works 12 to 14 hours a day. Technically, they only have to be at school until 5 p.m., but I think they might be branded as lazy if they actually left at that time. They start their day around 7:30 a.m. and most are there till at least 7:30 p.m., and some as late as 9:30 p.m. Or even later.

Now, being honest, this does not always mean they've got their nose to the grindstone the whole time (as you can see). I do think they tend to be less efficient than the standard 9-to-5er. Sometimes, much to my annoyance, presence is valued over productivity; there are days when they are just logging the face time expected of them, doing eight hours of work spread out over 12 (or more) hours, wasting their lives away.

My supervisor tells me teachers at my school typically teach 18 classes per week (each class being 50 minutes long). That works out to three or four classes a day — less than what most American teachers do in my hometown, especially now that budget cuts have slashed school staff to the bare minimum.

That said, they do have some responsibilities that American teachers don't. First of all, most of them are assigned (involuntarily and arbitrarily) to supervise school clubs and sports, which often meet for several hours after school everyday. Some, like the baseball team, even meet for practice before school as well. Oh, and those teams and clubs meet year-round. Now it's true that some American teachers coach teams too, but that's voluntary and they get paid additional salary to do that. Japanese teachers don't.

On top of that, most of the teachers are assigned to be homeroom teachers. The ones unlucky enough to be homeroom teachers for seniors serve as counselors to their 40 homeroom students, guiding them through the process of getting into college. This is no small task, as anyone acquainted with the college applications process in America knows.

Japanese teachers also play a much more active role in students' lives than American teachers. If a child gets hurt or lands in some trouble outside school, often the homeroom teacher is called before the parents. Whereas American parents tend to be really defensive about not wanting outsiders to interfere with how they raise their kids, in Japan it's just the opposite. Homeroom teachers in Japan are more intimately involved in the character development of each student, working to instill discipline and decency. Recently, one student at my school was picked up by the police for throwing rocks at an abandoned building and breaking windows (something I once did as a teenager — minus the getting arrested part!). His teacher had to scrap weekend plans to pick him up from the police station and likely give him the scolding of his life. Another example: In a lot of upper-academic schools, like mine, students are prohibited from having part-time jobs outside of school. The thinking is that they should be focusing their full attention on studying. If parents discover their kid has a secret job, they might not take it upon themselves to confront their child and make him quit. No, they very well may call the kid's homeroom teacher and make the teacher get the kid to quit!

Then when you consider that it's common for teachers to come in to work on Saturday, and sometimes Sunday as well, to teach supplementary classes and supervise student activities, you start to understand why they are falling asleep at their desks.

As for the students? Consider some of the daily stresses endured by Japanese students. There are no school buses for high school students, and they can't drive because the legal minimum driving age is 18 (and they're not allowed to get their license before graduation). So all the students ride their bicycles to school, some from significant distances. Remember, schools here do not serve as neighborhood schools like schools in America; students must take exams to gain entrance to certain schools, and they attend the best school they can get in to in their area. If they live in the countryside, that school could be very far away. Joe has students who commute by bus, train and bicycle from their home two hours away. Imagine how exhausting that gets day after day — especially if you're one of those kids who really wants to play a sport, and it requires practice before school starts! The Japanese are hardcore when it comes to these pursuits; if you want to be part of the team, you must be at every practice. No excuses.

As if the commute and the extra-curricular meetings weren't enough, there's also juku — supplementary "cram" schools that students attend in the evenings and on weekends to try to get ahead so they can go on to the best colleges. My supervisor guesses that around a third of the students at my school attend juku at some point during their high school years.

You know those articles you always read saying how U.S. schools are so far behind schools in other countries, especially in Asia? Say like this recent MSNBC story that included this nugget:

Kids in the U.S. spend more hours in school (1,146 instructional hours per year) than do kids in the Asian countries that persistently outscore the U.S. on math and science tests — Singapore (903), Taiwan (1,050), Japan (1,005) and Hong Kong (1,013). That is despite the fact that Taiwan, Japan and Hong Kong have longer school years (190 to 201 days) than does the United States (180 days).

Yeah... that's totally misleading. While it does clearly demonstrate how much time is actually wasted in Japanese schools on non-instructional activities, what's missing from this equation is the number of hours Japanese kids spend in cram school. If that were factored in, it would be easy to see why Japanese kids are outscoring American kids — because in reality the Japanese are spending far more time in the classroom.

It's not at all unusual for some of my students to head to juku at the end of the regular school day and stay there until late in the evening, say 10 p.m. Last year a couple girls in my advanced English class told me that not only did they attend juku everyday after school during the week, but they also attended on Saturdays and Sundays — for 12 hours each day! That 12 hours a day applied every day over summer vacation, too! They were happy when summer "vacation" was over! I could hardly believe it when they told me that. Who can imagine American schoolchildren forfeiting their summer vacations to take extra classes 12 hours a day all summer long in hopes of getting into a better college? It's inconceivable! There is actually a Japanese term to describe this kind of insanity: shiken jigoku — literally, "examination hell."

Some Japanese children start going to juku from a very young age in hopes that the extra preparation will get them into a better junior high school, then a better high school and then the best university. They sacrifice their childhoods in the name of their future. I know one woman who told me she was forced to go to juku in elementary school, and it is her worst memory of that period of time in her life. It's just heartbreaking how much pressure Japanese society places on the children here. There seems to be no recognition that people have limits, that learning has limits! After sitting in regular school all day, who has the mental energy to absorb much more at juku? It seems absolutely crazy! There's no time for reflection, no time for critical thought. I almost feel like it's a form of mind control.

In fact, in some ways I feel like the time demands on students result in lower expectations at regular school. Their schedules are crammed so full that deadlines for homework in my school seem to be unenforceable — some of the kids literally have no time to do their homework, so they're routinely allowed to hand in assignments late (and even then, clearly done half-ass).

One of my other JET friends gave her students a survey that included a question about how many hours of sleep they usually get each night. Some of the kids said they averaged four hours a night.

That is why students fall asleep in class, and that is why the teachers ignore it. I don't get upset when it happens in my class. Usually I leave the Sleepy McGees alone unless their participation is necessary for the lesson at that moment, in which case I take a piece of paper and rest it atop their head and wave it back and forth while saying cheerily, "Wake up! Wake up!", until the tickling of their hair startles them awake. I feel it doesn't do any good to get angry at the kids.

It's this "Life is Work" approach that has contributed toward something of a revolt among a subset of Japanese youth who can't handle the pressure. I read a book a while back called Shutting Out The Sun: How Japan created its own lost generation, by Michael Zielenziger. It's about the phenomenon of hikikomori, young people who completely withdraw from society. They lock themselves in their rooms and refuse to come out — sometimes for years. Their families enable them by leaving food outside their doors, but family members are too embarrassed to reach out for help. There are more than 1 million of these shut-ins, according to this book. That's mind-boggling! But can you blame these guys? I think I'd become a hermit too if I were Japanese!

Part of this book focuses on a guy named Hiro, whose parents sent him off to juku starting at age 5. Since he'd scored well on intelligence tests, they hoped he could earn a place at an elite elementary school that belonged to a feeder program that would ultimately guarantee students admission to a prestigious university. Hiro started juku each day at 4 p.m. and wouldn't get home until 10 p.m. He was constantly exhausted. At age 6, he flunked the entrance exam, but his parents pushed him to continue studying for entrance exams anyway so he could go to a top school. In an interview with the author as an adult, Hiro recalled outbursts of anger toward his mother due to all the pressure, saying:

I remember one time yelling at her and saying 'I am not going to be your robot anymore.' I remember all this anger welling up inside me. I threw a cup against the wall. Another time I threw my pencil box out the window. She pushed me so much... she ruined my youth.

Don't get me wrong, I have great respect for the Japanese work ethic, but I also think that this level of stress is unnecessary, not to mention unhealthy. Last year, I visited an 11th grade class to teach a special lesson and I noticed a kid with patches of hair missing all over his head. I saw the kid sitting there twisting hairs and pulling them out! When I said something to the classroom teacher after class, she said he was OK, but his hair was falling out because of stress. She said this like it was no big deal, just an everyday statement of fact. Well, whether it was stress, or a medical condition like trichotillomania, obviously that kid's dealing with way too much anxiety — why was I seemingly the only one so bothered by it? (Maybe they were just brushing me off because they already had it handled?) In recent weeks there's also been a girl who routinely comes barging into the teachers' office at random times in a full blown panic attack, hyperventilating into a paper bag.

The light at the end of the tunnel for these kids is college. I'm told that once they graduate high school, the pressure lifts. Whereas going to university only doubled my workload, the opposite happens for Japanese college students. For them, it's Party Time! (I guess it's party time for American college kids too... but for us it's "Work hard, play hard." For the Japanese, it's more like "Worked hard, play hard.") It is not their performance in a college that is so important — it is what college they gain admission to. Once in, they are allowed to coast by — rather low expectations are placed on them. As long as they show up, they pretty much cannot fail, and once they graduate and get a job (and many colleges have arrangements to feed graduates into certain companies), their company will put them through a training program. Then of course it is back to work. For those who enter white collar professions, becoming what the Japanese term a "salaryman", they can only look forward to a lifetime of 60- to 80- hour work weeks — just like the teachers at my school.

Japan has created the perfect system to churn out generation after generation of workaholics. Indeed, most of them are so overworked, they hardly have time to form their own identity. I feel like a lot of them wouldn't know what to do with themselves if they did have free time! Some of my co-workers will readily tell you that they go home everyday after work and spend what little time is left before bed by drinking. And they don't see anything wrong with that. It's so depressing.

This all sounds pretty brutal, doesn't it? I wonder if I have the impression that it's worse than it is. After all, many of my students are happy. They seem to like school. They talk about how much they enjoy their school club activities, respect their teachers and love their friends. They may be insanely busy, but the up side is their shared exhaustion seems to produce a deep sense of camaraderie.

Just another day in English class

2009-11-17T21:26:00.005+09:00

Click the picture to see a larger version.

At the beginning of the school year, I have all my kids make name cards to help me remember their names. Today, one girl passed hers back at the end of the lesson with these drawings all over her name. They caught my eye as I was putting the cards back in my file drawer, and um... yeah. I wasn't sure whether to laugh or worry. So I did a little of both.

I asked another teacher what the kanji at the bottom said. She said it refers to a warring period in Japanese history, specifically to the losers of these battles, who traditionally committed ritual seppuku (suicide through disembowelment). Oh! How pleasant!

I expressed concern about the girl but the teacher kind of laughed it off. "Oh, are you worried she might... hurt herself?" she asked. "Oh, no. She's just a bit weird. But she would never kill herself."

Right... Just checking. Mental note, random drawings of people hanging — no big deal. I asked her to check with the girl and see if everything was OK. Just in case.

It does remind me what a weird and tumultuous time high school is. Makes me think of another fellow JET who did a travel lesson with his students. They had to fill out a worksheet inventing their own country and give it a name, national symbol, that kind of thing. One girl named her country "Murder-land" and made its national symbol a large butcher knife. Repressed rage, much? (Or maybe just an intense dislike of English class?)

Ninja turtles?

2009-11-09T22:29:00.000+09:00

Whenever I walk between Hiroshima Station and the Hondori shopping street downtown, I pass by a building with a pond out front full of turtles sunbathing themselves on rocks.

They are usually stacked up on one another keeping an eye on pedestrians passing by on the sidewalk. I enjoy staring back for a while.

I really like the one standing tall on edge of the rock in front, pushing himself up as if he's trying to see us all clearly. Wonder what we all look like to him?