Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas

with love from England and Newfoundland
via Riviére-du-Loup (Christmas 2010)

Dear friends and family,

Another year, another Christmas letter. Unfortunately, the fact that it’s being written at the last minute from the other side of the world (what else is new?) means that I risk infringing on the privacy of those nearest and dearest to me. (Sorry, daddy, but by the time you’d proofread this, I’ll be in Bangkok.) So, I’ll be brief.

Mom is working, singing, and “computer-ing” with confidence. (Now, to convince her and dad to join Facebook.) She is my source of information on everything familial, arts and culture, and Regina-related. My teachers can’t get over how わかい (young) and きれい

(beautiful) she is. 

Dad hunts (______), shoots (______), kills (______) and provides for his (_______) family/deer/pucks/zombies. He continues to maintain a mustache and a fleet of Hondas, neither of which fails to impress my elementary and junior high school students.  

John is a moneyman by day and a wildman by night. If you haven’t heard his band’s latest stuff, you should: http://thewildmen.bandcamp.com/ Most of my female students are in love with him. わかりません (I don’t know why.)    

Scott is a student, philosopher, and concerned citizen. He takes after his older brother in his ability to impressively articulate his complex criticisms and concerns about the world. My students call him “Scott-o.”

When I’m not Skyping my family, I’m whipping up worksheets and surprising students, hiding out in my teeny-tiny apartment getting domestic with my one stove-top burner and combination microwave/convection oven, or listening to CBC Radio podcasts in the great outdoors while pondering my bizarre but blessed existence.

In less than six hours, I’m off to Thailand to throw a bikini on a sun-starved body fueled for the past month by spicy chili, homemade eggnog, creamy green curry (none of which I made – I have good neighbors!), rich restaurant food, fudge, and peppermint brownies. (Fun fact: some Japanese people don’t care for peppermint or root-beer because the flavours remind them of medicine.) 

With dreams of English Christmas Eve church services and Christmas Day movies, beach parties, meditation, snorkeling, and elephant rides, this Christmas could be my weirdest yet, but here's hoping it’s a merry little one, nevertheless.

And, of course, I wish the same for you!

Lots of love,

Echo    

with love from China, America, Canada, New Zealand, Russia,
and the Philippines (who'd I miss?) via Japan

Turning Japanese

At a performance review one year ago, a certain Canadian was told that she is “too Japanese.” In true Japanese style, her supervisor’s assessment was both complimentary and critical; that “you are liked because you are very kind – too kind” and that “you care about others – you care too much.” To make matters crystal clear, her boss concluded, smiling, “I think you are very Japanese.”

So, dear readers, what do you think?

She eats raw broccoli and the skin of her fruits.

She doesn't own a rice-cooker nor does she consider rice a breakfast food.  

She has good days and bad days where chopsticks are concerned.

She's not a fan of natto. 

She prefers water to tea.

She loves to sing karaoke.

She gets called by (not her) name by locals mistaking her for one of the other blond foreigners in town.

She doesn't walk around the teachers’ room brushing her teeth after lunch or clip her nails at her desk in the morning.

She doesn't own a portable electronic Japanese-English dictionary. (She probably should.)

If there's even the slightest chance of rain or snow, she's got her umbrella. However, she will not use it to hide from the sun.

She will go without, rather than accidentally purchase a lotion with skin-whitening agents.

She's sometimes not sure whether to bow or shake hands.

She misses chocolate milk. And cheese.

She wouldn't dream of asking for a doggy-bag.

She refuses to eat KFC on Christmas Day.

She hangs out at school considerably less than her Japanese counterparts and constantly feels guilty. That said, she has no intention of not taking all twenty of her paid leave days.

Her automatic impulse is apologetic.

Her default picture pose involves the peace (victory?) sign.

After a busy day bustling with people, she looks forward to coming home to her quiet apartment, which she's never thought of as lonely because it lacks a husband and three children under the age of six.

She’s twenty-six, not married, and not looking.

She sets a good example for her students by finishing her fish – head, bones, and all.

She won’t eat while walking, unless she’s being a tourist in another part of Japan.

She's got the requisite sweet tooth, but misses the intensity of such flavors as peppermint, vanilla, and root beer.

Nakedness is nothing new.

She's still a baby when it comes to reading, writing, and having a conversation in Japanese.

When it comes to communicating, she’d rather use a written combination of poorly conjugated hiragana and katakana than open her mouth to speak.

She understands more than she can articulate.

She doesn’t drink much at work enkais, knowing she’ll learn so much more through sober observation.

She sometimes pushes the “flushing sound effect” button in public washrooms – not for her own comfort, but out of consideration for others.

If you consider sugar a drug, she’s four for seven as far as the Vapors are concerned.