Sunday, September 18, 2011

Here Comes the Rain Again

(August 25, 2011)

I am in love with life again. It’s taken some time, heaps (one of a number of New Zealand slang words I’m adopting) of energy, and the patient presence of a lot of wonderful people I hope to introduce you to over the coming months. But it’s happened, and it’s happening, and I couldn’t be happier.

There was an epic thunderstorm at Mochigase Junior High today.* I say “at” my school because it literally hovered over the building for about thirty minutes – booming and flashing and pouring. A few female teachers in the staffroom seemed genuinely afraid, but I could not contain my glee. Sensing my poorly-concealed excitement, Uegami-sensei, the gentle soul who last week taught me my colours, calmly began a lesson on thunder (kaminari), lightning (inazuma) and rain (ame), after which I half-enthused, half-mumbled (with the help of my pocket dictionary, of course), “kaminari ga suki des!” (I love thunder!)

This, of course, was met with a variety of exclamations that I can’t yet translate but have come to recognize as a combination of approval and disbelief (the same sort of reaction I get upon affirming that I can eat sushi). It also got Naoki-sensei - a lean, crusty, greying social studies teacher and baseball coach who, I learned the other night at my staff enkai**, speaks passable English when he’s had a few and who is going to become my best friend but doesn’t know it yet – chanting “rolling thunder” and “you are my sunshine” until I eventually broke down and sang a few lines. More exclamations and approval. If I ever wrap my head around this language for real, they’ll probably organize a parade.

Aside from possibly the best thunder and some of the warmest colleagues I’ve yet to know, I also had the most fantastic supper. Nothing fancy – spaghetti in a garlic-y tomato sauce with eggplant and broccoli, a piece of bizarre but delicious green tea bread from Hello’s, the neighbourhood bakery, and a glass of grape juice. But considering that it’s been nearly four weeks since I’ve had anything tomato-ey (aside from an actual tomato offered by my Singaporian big brother “Momma” that I devoured like an apple), it was just what I wanted. Also, it was the first proper meal*** I’ve cooked in this apartment, so it was kind of a big deal.

All in all, a very good day.


*As seems to be the case in Japan, the whole thing came out of nowhere. Sure, it was gray and overcast beforehand, but also cooler and not nearly as humid as my first few weeks here. So, I figured “daijobu” (no problem) and headed out in the morning without any of the four umbrellas the previous tenant left me. Thankfully, it stopped as abruptly as it started, and by the time I left school to catch my 4:07 pm train home, the worst was over.

**For now, let’s call it a party, and leave it at that.

***I will wax poetic on the infinite joys of eating out at another time.

Oh, Mr. Sun

(August 23, 2011)



While trolling Facebook on my commute to Kawahara Junior High this morning, I learned that Jack Layton, former Leader of the Official Opposition in Canada, died of cancer yesterday. Inexplicably, I was immediately overcome by an intense homesickness.

Patriotism? It’s possible. Guilt over the passing of a politician who devoted a good part of his life to a party whose platform I am embarrassed to say I am not overly familiar with? Very possible. Culture-shocking* because, although my Facebook world is full of condolences, the reality that few people in my current city have even heard of the man means grieving alone?** Whatever the reason, the rainy day had just gotten drearier.

And then, out of the blue, in came the sun as twenty-plus elementary school children (kawaii = cute!) shuffled into the previously quiet bus, juggling a rainbow of umbrellas, book-bags, and bus fare, and sporting easily identifiable yellow hats specific to their school – baseball caps for the boys, bucket hats for the girls. Although clearly on their best bus-riding behaviour, the little ones couldn’t help staring at the gloomy girl with her strange kiniroy (gold) hair and aoy (blue) eyes (yes, I am learning my colours), nor could they contain their giggles when she “hello-ed” them.

Needless to say, they made my day. Fingers crossed, they are some of the same children whose school I will be visiting for the first time tomorrow!    


*Or, “cultural fatigue-ing,” as the excellent keynote speaker at that oh-so-long-ago Tokyo orientation more accurately labelled the overwhelming sense of exhaustion that inevitably accompanies cultural adaption.

** Thankfully, this was not my case, as I did get a text from Josh, a fellow Tottorian originally from Edmonton, making sure I’d heard the latest news from Canada. Somehow, knowing that someone else in my immediate vicinity was also thinking about home made me feel less alone and more justified in feeling a bit blue. 
                                                                

Time Warp

(Saturday, August 6th, 2011)



The air con in my apartment is set at a Siberian 26 degrees Celsius. I woke up around 5:30 this morning to turn it on; sweaty, gritty, and gross. Then I got distracted by my brand-new baby; a ridiculously high-tech iPhone, the kind I swore I’d never own. So much for sleeping in on a Saturday. 

It is mind-blowing to think that it has been more or less a week (depending on which time-zone you consider) since I bid my family adieu and boarded a plane for Tokyo. Feels like months ago. Not in the sense of “oh-my-gosh, this-was-a-mistake, get-me-outta-here,” but in the “I-don’t-think-I-can-possibly-accomplish-anything-else-this-week-unless-I-decide-to-cure-cancer” kind of way.

And, in true Japanese-form, I am not alone in my thinking.* Most, if not all, of the other new ALTs in Tottori City have expressed similar sentiments. Between endless introductions and piles of paperwork, setting up “life-lines” (cell phone, bank account, and, hopefully soon, internet), navigating new necessities (grocery shopping, getting around, and going to the bathroom), Shan-shan parade dance practice, and trying not to melt into the sidewalk, we’ve had a pretty jam-packed few days. Which is why, today, we are heading to the beach for some well-deserved rest and relaxation.

If you think for a moment that I accomplished any of the aforementioned activities by myself, think again. Nihongo ga hanasemasen. I don’t speak Japanese. I also don’t write, read, or understand more than the odd word and only if it is spoken to me slowly and deliberately. For the first time in over twenty years, I am essentially illiterate.

That said, I am meant to be here. Despite my doubts, this has been affirmed to me time and time again over the past week. Whether it be my pre-arranged accommodations in an apartment building housing a dozen or so other JETs, or the fact that, although many school authorities apparently know minimal English, the Kocho-sensei (Principal), Kyoto-sensei (Vice-Principal), and the JTE** that I will be working with at one of my junior high schools all speak far better English than most Canadians speak French, I know that I am in the right place. It’s going to be a steep learning curve, but knowing that I have support systems in place will help ensure it’s an exciting challenge, rather than a daunting task. Ganbarimasu! I’ll do my best!


*As Misa, my Canada World Youth counterpart, would so often say, getting the most out of a cultural experience is all about “adapting and adopting.” Over the last several days, I’ve reminded myself of her wise words.

**JTE = Japanese Teacher of English, responsible for running the class, dealing with any disciplinary issues, and making sure their non-Japanese-speaking ALT understands where she is supposed to be and when.





                                 
                                                                                                                

A Hard Day's Night



Ohayo gozaimasu! Good morning!

If my calculations are correct, it is currently 1:47 pm on Tuesday, August 2nd in Regina. In Tokyo, it is 4:46 am on Wednesday, August 3rd. And, yes, despite doing everything right (drinking lots of water and not sleeping on the eleven-and-a-half hour plane ride, struggling to stay up until 9:30 pm local time the first night, then passing up subsequent evening escapades in order to get adequate shut-eye), I am sitting in my empty hotel bathtub, wide awake for no good reason. Jet-lag destroys body, mind, and soul.

Luckily for me, the latter two are just fine, thanks no doubt to concerted efforts to get enough sleep. Yesterday, I woke up at 5:30 am, after a respectable 7.5 hour sleep, feeling more human than I had in several days. The night before that, I slept so hard that I neglected to notice my first earthquake. (My roommate, on the other hand, felt it, woke up, tried to wake me, couldn’t, decided she must be dreaming, and went back to sleep.) I did, however, feel my bed ever-so-slightly wobbling this morning, leaving me with a sensation both queasy and cool. It lasted all of 30 seconds (if that), but by then, I was awake for real, buzzing with adrenaline and excitement. It’s too soon to tell, but earthquakes may become my new thunderstorms.

Body-wise, I’ve also been fortunate so far. My family (minus John, who stayed in Regina to attend the wedding of two good friends) spoiled me on the trip to Calgary, letting me snack, veg, vent, snore, and hug them at will before parting ways (me, to the airport, and them to represent the family at my grandma Ruby’s 80th birthday party in Edmonton). My flight was fine, aside from the notably marginal food (good ol’ Air Canada) and the ridiculously early dimming of the cabin lights. However, it was smooth sailing, the H2O flowed, and we made good time.

When we arrived in Tokyo, I felt cheated. A well-informed friend, who spent several years in Japan on the JET Programme* and who has been a frequent source of information and advice over the weeks leading up to my departure, told me that stepping off the plane feels like being hit by a wave of hot lava. The humidity simultaneously soaks and drowns you. Needless to say, I had been emotionally preparing for this moment for some time, making a conscious effort not to complain when Regina experienced several consecutive days of 40+ degree temperatures in late July, and not allowing myself to panic when reading about power-saving initiatives in Japan that result in most office buildings setting their air conditioners at 28 degrees. However, when I stepped off the plane, I felt...warm. Slightly uncomfortable, sure. Drowning? Absolutely not.

Fast-forward through several days’ worth of workshops, ceremonies, new friends and incredibly cheerful current JETs** (many of the same smiling faces that had scattered throughout Tokyo airport in neon pink t-shirts, welcoming us to Japan and paving the way to our waiting buses like bright breadcrumbs), prefectural and embassy meetings, and general information overload, to yesterday morning’s panel discussion on “The Daily Life of an ALT in Japan.”*** Only a few minutes into introductions, one of the panellists warned, “Oh yeah, we’ve been experiencing unseasonably cool temperatures lately. It was super cool the day you guys arrived. It’s gonna heat up.” The girls from Barbados and Trinidad aren’t concerned. Should I be?

In just a couple of hours, I leave Tokyo (which I didn’t have time to experience – I’ll be back!) and my air-conditioned five-star hotel to hop a plane with several other (awesome!) JETS bound for the Tottori prefecture. The next time you hear from me, I will be settled into my new apartment, no doubt sweating profusely and rueing the day I claimed the humidity unimpressive. Can’t wait!



*JET Programme = Japanese Exchange and Teaching Programme

**JET = Japanese English Teacher, refers to those individuals hired by the JET Programme

***ALT = Assistant Language Teacher, refers to all individuals hired by JET or another similar organization