I can't stop thinking that this host change will be my last. The next time I cram all my stuff into my suitcases, I'll be heading home. No more introductions to new host family members, no more new beds to get used to and new surroundings to explore. This is it. And these past three months have gone by the fastest by far. I just got here at this house! I just introduced myself to these people! All of my stuff isn't even unpacked yet! And yet, I'm leaving on Sunday. And my stay with the next family will be my shortest stay yet. Less than three months. Next month is June! If I was in America, I would be estatic at the ending of the school year. I would be counting down the days. I would be estatic at the signs of my season-long freedom - signs like sunshine and freckles and even end of the year tests. Oh dear. Next month is June. And then July. And I won't tell you what comes after July. It'll be a cliff hanger.
I think I really have changed since I got here. You know, I'm living in Japan. Sweet.
Friday, May 11, 2007
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
Three Month Families
I haven't spent as much time telling about this host family as I did the others and the reason for that is I haven't as much of a good relationship with them as I did with my previous two families. Of course in all the families we had our ups and downs and had to work to accomadate each other, but we did work. With both previous families, we had really great communication and I was able to really count on them as a support system.
In the beginning, my relationship with this family was rocky at best. I felt, though it was mostly just a feeling, like they didn't really want to deal with me or have time for me. That was fine. I'm fairly self-sufficient and took advantage of the freedom that came with the lack of interest. I felt like they were annoyed by the questions that my other families loved, and I know my host grandmother really didn't care for the responsibilities of having a kid in the house. She harbored bitterness against me for having to do my laundry and make my lunch every morning. Had she told me, I would have gladly done it myself. I did in America and tried to in both my first two houses. Whenever I tried to talk to her, she brushed me off, saying she couldn't understand me, which was probably true, but rather disheartening.
So they took me with them on their vacation to an onsen resort up in the mountains. I played babysitter for the five-year-old, and I think that won me points with everyone on that trip.
I'm changing families on Sunday. We've just started to bond. She's just starting to ask me questions about my day and I have more of an idea of what's expected of me around the house. She's started to ask about my plans for the future and what I'll do with the Japanese I've learned. Recently, I've really busted up my foot in kendo. My club told me that if I tell my host grandma, she'll be able to take me to a doctor or at least give me something to put on it. I was hesitant to tell her because I've been so sick lately and I get the feeling that she's annoyed by it. She hints that I'm just looking for attention. But today, just as I was about to go to bed, I asked her to take a look at it and see what she thinks. She immediately starting fussing over how swollen it is and rubbed aloe vera stuff (I think it was aloe vera) all over it. I'm still in shock.
So once again, I'm leaving a family way before I'm ready. I've just stopped being a house guest and we're finally starting to connect, and I have to start all over again. Again. For the fourth time. And after three months with this next family, I'll have to go home, and head to college, where I'll start over again. I love Rotary very much, but whose idea was it to put me with four host families?! Isn't it easy to see what a pain it is?
At least I'm an adaptor now. And, due to all my family changes, I've got one heck of a support system. That's nice.
In the beginning, my relationship with this family was rocky at best. I felt, though it was mostly just a feeling, like they didn't really want to deal with me or have time for me. That was fine. I'm fairly self-sufficient and took advantage of the freedom that came with the lack of interest. I felt like they were annoyed by the questions that my other families loved, and I know my host grandmother really didn't care for the responsibilities of having a kid in the house. She harbored bitterness against me for having to do my laundry and make my lunch every morning. Had she told me, I would have gladly done it myself. I did in America and tried to in both my first two houses. Whenever I tried to talk to her, she brushed me off, saying she couldn't understand me, which was probably true, but rather disheartening.
So they took me with them on their vacation to an onsen resort up in the mountains. I played babysitter for the five-year-old, and I think that won me points with everyone on that trip.
I'm changing families on Sunday. We've just started to bond. She's just starting to ask me questions about my day and I have more of an idea of what's expected of me around the house. She's started to ask about my plans for the future and what I'll do with the Japanese I've learned. Recently, I've really busted up my foot in kendo. My club told me that if I tell my host grandma, she'll be able to take me to a doctor or at least give me something to put on it. I was hesitant to tell her because I've been so sick lately and I get the feeling that she's annoyed by it. She hints that I'm just looking for attention. But today, just as I was about to go to bed, I asked her to take a look at it and see what she thinks. She immediately starting fussing over how swollen it is and rubbed aloe vera stuff (I think it was aloe vera) all over it. I'm still in shock.
So once again, I'm leaving a family way before I'm ready. I've just stopped being a house guest and we're finally starting to connect, and I have to start all over again. Again. For the fourth time. And after three months with this next family, I'll have to go home, and head to college, where I'll start over again. I love Rotary very much, but whose idea was it to put me with four host families?! Isn't it easy to see what a pain it is?
At least I'm an adaptor now. And, due to all my family changes, I've got one heck of a support system. That's nice.
Saturday, May 05, 2007
Today I shared the best of me and it felt good
I love martial arts very much. It's hard to pin exactly what it is that draws me towards martial arts, but there's something that makes me restless and eager to learn it.
One of the beautiful things about martial arts, particularly kendo where you're always working with a partner, is your sharing your best with someone. Sometimes, definitely not always, everything you're doing is right. Even if you don't know the technique so well or you're not scoring, you're working the right way. You're remembering everything you've been told, you're completely focused, the energy is there, and you're absolutely in the moment. Of course even then you may screw up, but you're practicing right, and that makes it euphoriatic. And then, your partner is too. And that's it. Two people sharing the very best of themselves, and suddenly martial arts becomes a very intimate activity. You're sharing the moment, sharing the euphoria, sharing the energy, sharing yourselves. You can never dislike someone you've shared your best with. It's a beautiful thing to be entrusted with the best of someone, even to be able to see the best of someone is incredible. But to also put your own best out there, to share it with someone, that's incredible.
Can you understand this?
One of the beautiful things about martial arts, particularly kendo where you're always working with a partner, is your sharing your best with someone. Sometimes, definitely not always, everything you're doing is right. Even if you don't know the technique so well or you're not scoring, you're working the right way. You're remembering everything you've been told, you're completely focused, the energy is there, and you're absolutely in the moment. Of course even then you may screw up, but you're practicing right, and that makes it euphoriatic. And then, your partner is too. And that's it. Two people sharing the very best of themselves, and suddenly martial arts becomes a very intimate activity. You're sharing the moment, sharing the euphoria, sharing the energy, sharing yourselves. You can never dislike someone you've shared your best with. It's a beautiful thing to be entrusted with the best of someone, even to be able to see the best of someone is incredible. But to also put your own best out there, to share it with someone, that's incredible.
Can you understand this?
On Being an Exchange Student
I got an email from someone looking into exchange in the near future. She asked many questions, one of which was "What's it like being an exchange student?" I thought long and hard about this question, throwing adjectives and Rotary catch phrases like fun, exciting, difficult, challenging, mind-broadening, and, confusing. In the end, the one word I really felt could best describe this exchange is wierd.
There is nothing normal about being an exchange student. Nothing comforting, at least not in the beginning. In fact, my comfort zone was the biggest burden I brought with me to Japan. Even when life feels normal (which of course is a lot of the time, maybe even most of the time), it's a wierd normal.
My exchange has thus far been absolutely loaded with surprises and being so surprised is downright wierd. Wierd wierd wierd. Not knowing the language is weird of course, but what's wierder is knowing the language. I hope you understand the following explanation. Knowing the language is really an insight into the culture. Like the word "yasashii" for example. I learned in my textbook that it means "gentle." In America, we don't describe good people as gentle. It's wierd. And if you were a foreigner in America asking someone to please use easier English, you wouldn't say "Would you mind using more gentle English?" Wierd, huh?
And of course it's wierd knowing the language because what can possibly be normal about using Japanese on a daily basis?
In America, I was probably a wierd kid. Everyone says so, and I think they're only half joking. If that. But I was never The Wierd Kid. You know the one. Picks his nose, pours ketchup all over his tuna salad, smells sort of funny, draws (coincidentally) too much Japanese anime, knows all the answers in math class (or else is in remedial math), wears mismatching socks, carries all his books to class at once instead of using the locker, and of course is the slowest in gymn class.
A Side Story: When my mom was visiting, she reached for the soy sauce to pour all over her rice. We stopped her just in time, but she shot me an annoyed look and asked, "Why not?"
I am The Wierd Kid at Toba High School. I don't pick my nose in public. That's wierd. I don't know what sauce goes with which food. In fact, I was often annoyed in the beginning that they don't let you choose your favorite sauce - they give you the one called "okonomiyaki sauce" if you're eating okonomiyaki and "tacoyaki sauce" if you're eating tacoyaki. It took me a while to get in the habit of carrying around a little pencil bag for my most important belongings (pencils, pens, and flashcards of course) and I still forget to use the little piece of plastic they sell to go in between the pages of your notebook while you're writing (to provide a harder surface than the other pages of the notebook provide). I didn't know how to tie a tie when I got here. I tried to cross the street somewhere other than the sidewalk. They're still talking about that one - how I managed on my first day of school to summon the whole staff of teachers to yell at me and make angry motions that to me, held no meaning. That's wierd. I'm The Wierd Kid because sometimes I go to temples on my weekends. I carry a camera with me wherever I go, even to school and even when we just go out for dinner. I take pictures of street signs and trains and bicycles and vending machines and food. I have two holes punched neatly in each ear. I came to my first day of kendo practice with sparkling blue toenail polish on, applied by my eager little host sister. After that lecture, my host sister never touched my nails again. I can't read. In the beginning, I said wierd wierd things, sometimes rude, sometimes, in this culture, out of context, and sometimes just things that can't translate through our cultural differences.. I probably still do say wierd things, but at least whole conversations don't stop while everyone gapes at me and wonders how I could possibly have said such things.
Being an exchange student is wierd because products come in the wrong sized bottles and shapes. Because you can only buy one hairband at a time in the convenient store next door, and that one hairband costs nearly $1.80. Japanese cows don't say "Moooooo," they say "Mooeeeee." I don't even know how to write it, it's so wierd. (pronounced like the mo in Elmo and held out)
How can I make you understand what it's like to be an exchange student? I've never done anything like it before.
There is nothing normal about being an exchange student. Nothing comforting, at least not in the beginning. In fact, my comfort zone was the biggest burden I brought with me to Japan. Even when life feels normal (which of course is a lot of the time, maybe even most of the time), it's a wierd normal.
My exchange has thus far been absolutely loaded with surprises and being so surprised is downright wierd. Wierd wierd wierd. Not knowing the language is weird of course, but what's wierder is knowing the language. I hope you understand the following explanation. Knowing the language is really an insight into the culture. Like the word "yasashii" for example. I learned in my textbook that it means "gentle." In America, we don't describe good people as gentle. It's wierd. And if you were a foreigner in America asking someone to please use easier English, you wouldn't say "Would you mind using more gentle English?" Wierd, huh?
And of course it's wierd knowing the language because what can possibly be normal about using Japanese on a daily basis?
In America, I was probably a wierd kid. Everyone says so, and I think they're only half joking. If that. But I was never The Wierd Kid. You know the one. Picks his nose, pours ketchup all over his tuna salad, smells sort of funny, draws (coincidentally) too much Japanese anime, knows all the answers in math class (or else is in remedial math), wears mismatching socks, carries all his books to class at once instead of using the locker, and of course is the slowest in gymn class.
A Side Story: When my mom was visiting, she reached for the soy sauce to pour all over her rice. We stopped her just in time, but she shot me an annoyed look and asked, "Why not?"
I am The Wierd Kid at Toba High School. I don't pick my nose in public. That's wierd. I don't know what sauce goes with which food. In fact, I was often annoyed in the beginning that they don't let you choose your favorite sauce - they give you the one called "okonomiyaki sauce" if you're eating okonomiyaki and "tacoyaki sauce" if you're eating tacoyaki. It took me a while to get in the habit of carrying around a little pencil bag for my most important belongings (pencils, pens, and flashcards of course) and I still forget to use the little piece of plastic they sell to go in between the pages of your notebook while you're writing (to provide a harder surface than the other pages of the notebook provide). I didn't know how to tie a tie when I got here. I tried to cross the street somewhere other than the sidewalk. They're still talking about that one - how I managed on my first day of school to summon the whole staff of teachers to yell at me and make angry motions that to me, held no meaning. That's wierd. I'm The Wierd Kid because sometimes I go to temples on my weekends. I carry a camera with me wherever I go, even to school and even when we just go out for dinner. I take pictures of street signs and trains and bicycles and vending machines and food. I have two holes punched neatly in each ear. I came to my first day of kendo practice with sparkling blue toenail polish on, applied by my eager little host sister. After that lecture, my host sister never touched my nails again. I can't read. In the beginning, I said wierd wierd things, sometimes rude, sometimes, in this culture, out of context, and sometimes just things that can't translate through our cultural differences.. I probably still do say wierd things, but at least whole conversations don't stop while everyone gapes at me and wonders how I could possibly have said such things.
Being an exchange student is wierd because products come in the wrong sized bottles and shapes. Because you can only buy one hairband at a time in the convenient store next door, and that one hairband costs nearly $1.80. Japanese cows don't say "Moooooo," they say "Mooeeeee." I don't even know how to write it, it's so wierd. (pronounced like the mo in Elmo and held out)
How can I make you understand what it's like to be an exchange student? I've never done anything like it before.
A Sad Story
Once upon a time, there was a girl. That's me. She went to Japan on a foreign exchange. That's here.
So I was packing up about 8 months ago, trying to decide which of my beloved clothes would win the free (actually, I'd hardly call it free...) ride to Japan in my suitcases, when it occured to me that one whole suitcase was dedicated to jeans. In case you are unfamiliar with jeans, let me tell you about them. They are blue, usually, and denim. Sometimes they hug the hips, sometimes they flare at the bottom. Sometimes they have cheesy pictures on them. Usually they have pockets, though sometimes they don't and sometimes there are so many pockets you can't find the jeans. There are jeans for everyone out there - grandma's and grandpa's, retro high school kids, little tottlers who can't dress themselves, and even Japanese. Most people have a certain style they prefer to other styles, so that while jeans stock up (they're also very addicting and, because they're so essential, sell really well), most of the jeans in a person's collection consists of a mountain of nearly identical jeans. Of course the owner of the jeans can tell the difference - this pair makes me look fat, this pair clings to the leg too much, but fits the hips just right, this pair has three buttons and no zipper, this one has the conveniently big pocket - but to the average onlooker, jeans are nearly identical.
So I was stuck with a problem. I had one suitcase dedicated to 20 pairs of the same item and barely had room for my passport. I didn't think it was a problem until the travel agent sent me multiple emails, letters, and faxes warning me of the consequences of favoring jeans over my passport, which is when I decided to cut down on my beloved jeans. Next thing I knew, I had a rather sad collection of my three favorite pairs of jeans, hoping against hope that they would hold me for a year.
One of them fits me really strangely now, one of them got stuck in the tire of a bike wheel and has black stains running down it, and the last pair is so worn that the inside of the thighs look like they won't hold out one more walk across the street. I think I should have bought another pair. If you're a future exchange student, bring at least four pairs of jeans with you. And they're so expensive here.
In America, I wore jeans to school virtually every day, rain, snow, sun, and tornado threats. I wore jeans on my first date, I wore jeans to the doctors office and to the movies with my friends. When in doubt about the formality of an occasion, I played it safe and wore jeans. They were party clothes and school clothes and probably a gift from God.
Now, I wear my school skirt to school, my sweats around the house, and, surprise of all surprises, a skirt when I go out. I brought exactly one skirt with me because frankly, I didn't feel particularly comfortable in skirts. And now, with only three deteriorating pairs of jeans, I buy skirts. And skirts and skirts. What'll become of me?
And I bet you thought I was going to tell you something meaningful and insightful.
So I was packing up about 8 months ago, trying to decide which of my beloved clothes would win the free (actually, I'd hardly call it free...) ride to Japan in my suitcases, when it occured to me that one whole suitcase was dedicated to jeans. In case you are unfamiliar with jeans, let me tell you about them. They are blue, usually, and denim. Sometimes they hug the hips, sometimes they flare at the bottom. Sometimes they have cheesy pictures on them. Usually they have pockets, though sometimes they don't and sometimes there are so many pockets you can't find the jeans. There are jeans for everyone out there - grandma's and grandpa's, retro high school kids, little tottlers who can't dress themselves, and even Japanese. Most people have a certain style they prefer to other styles, so that while jeans stock up (they're also very addicting and, because they're so essential, sell really well), most of the jeans in a person's collection consists of a mountain of nearly identical jeans. Of course the owner of the jeans can tell the difference - this pair makes me look fat, this pair clings to the leg too much, but fits the hips just right, this pair has three buttons and no zipper, this one has the conveniently big pocket - but to the average onlooker, jeans are nearly identical.
So I was stuck with a problem. I had one suitcase dedicated to 20 pairs of the same item and barely had room for my passport. I didn't think it was a problem until the travel agent sent me multiple emails, letters, and faxes warning me of the consequences of favoring jeans over my passport, which is when I decided to cut down on my beloved jeans. Next thing I knew, I had a rather sad collection of my three favorite pairs of jeans, hoping against hope that they would hold me for a year.
One of them fits me really strangely now, one of them got stuck in the tire of a bike wheel and has black stains running down it, and the last pair is so worn that the inside of the thighs look like they won't hold out one more walk across the street. I think I should have bought another pair. If you're a future exchange student, bring at least four pairs of jeans with you. And they're so expensive here.
In America, I wore jeans to school virtually every day, rain, snow, sun, and tornado threats. I wore jeans on my first date, I wore jeans to the doctors office and to the movies with my friends. When in doubt about the formality of an occasion, I played it safe and wore jeans. They were party clothes and school clothes and probably a gift from God.
Now, I wear my school skirt to school, my sweats around the house, and, surprise of all surprises, a skirt when I go out. I brought exactly one skirt with me because frankly, I didn't feel particularly comfortable in skirts. And now, with only three deteriorating pairs of jeans, I buy skirts. And skirts and skirts. What'll become of me?
And I bet you thought I was going to tell you something meaningful and insightful.
Monday, April 30, 2007
update
Today was pretty awesome. I went to an apple orchard with my host family and helped out there. It was perfect weather. We stopped at a village about 200 where most of the houses are 200 years old and still in use, went out for sushi, and did a little shopping at the huge department store near our house.
I went to my first kendo tournament the other day. Got my first point, which I'm really psyched about, though I lost in the end. I also got terribly sick, which was pretty miserably, but I'm pretty much over it now.
I went to my first kendo tournament the other day. Got my first point, which I'm really psyched about, though I lost in the end. I also got terribly sick, which was pretty miserably, but I'm pretty much over it now.
Friday, April 20, 2007
I'm BAAAAACK!!!!!
Guess what! My computer isn't broken! My harddrive wasn't wiped clear.
So the other day, my host grandfather's brother (can you tell I still don't know anyone's name...) came and drank all the beer in the house. Nothing's new there. I remembered that he actually owns the computer store next door and, upon seeing him, pleaded with him to take a look at my computer.
For the record, I thought the problem was with my cord. I tore the third prong off my plug so it'd fit into Japanese outlets, only recently, it's been sparking every time I plug it in. The ends of the prongs look burnt. So I suggested to my host great uncle that perhaps the problem was the plug and maybe if I could just buy a new one the problem might be solved....
"No!" shouts my drunk great uncle. I immediately regreted not having the insight not to go to someone who's only english vocabulary consists of "Get me a beer!" So he said he'd just wipe my hardrive and everything would be good. No! Don't wipe my hardrive! Please! So I'm pleading to him, trying to convince that actually it's not really broken and I don't need his help. He gets sorely offended and the whole family has a meeting to discuss my impolite behavior. They tell me he's a certified engineer who's been to college and knows a lot about computers. I sigh and relent (imagining him spilling beer all over my laptop as he erases all my pictures of Japan, all my word documents, all my completely-legally-downloaded music). Today, I got the half-dreaded, half-anticipated phone call. He fixed my computer, didn't spill a single drop of beer on it (that I know of), and my hardrive is thankfully still in tact. And I don't owe him a single cent.
This Sunday I'll be going to USJ with Rotary. I'm really looking forward to it (though it'll be my third time... hehe...) because I haven't seen my exchange friends in a long time.
The new school year has of course started and it's going really well. I'm well ahead of them in math and science, which makes life a lot easier for me. In my home-ec class, I'm actually going to making a yukata! Woo!
So the other day, my host grandfather's brother (can you tell I still don't know anyone's name...) came and drank all the beer in the house. Nothing's new there. I remembered that he actually owns the computer store next door and, upon seeing him, pleaded with him to take a look at my computer.
For the record, I thought the problem was with my cord. I tore the third prong off my plug so it'd fit into Japanese outlets, only recently, it's been sparking every time I plug it in. The ends of the prongs look burnt. So I suggested to my host great uncle that perhaps the problem was the plug and maybe if I could just buy a new one the problem might be solved....
"No!" shouts my drunk great uncle. I immediately regreted not having the insight not to go to someone who's only english vocabulary consists of "Get me a beer!" So he said he'd just wipe my hardrive and everything would be good. No! Don't wipe my hardrive! Please! So I'm pleading to him, trying to convince that actually it's not really broken and I don't need his help. He gets sorely offended and the whole family has a meeting to discuss my impolite behavior. They tell me he's a certified engineer who's been to college and knows a lot about computers. I sigh and relent (imagining him spilling beer all over my laptop as he erases all my pictures of Japan, all my word documents, all my completely-legally-downloaded music). Today, I got the half-dreaded, half-anticipated phone call. He fixed my computer, didn't spill a single drop of beer on it (that I know of), and my hardrive is thankfully still in tact. And I don't owe him a single cent.
This Sunday I'll be going to USJ with Rotary. I'm really looking forward to it (though it'll be my third time... hehe...) because I haven't seen my exchange friends in a long time.
The new school year has of course started and it's going really well. I'm well ahead of them in math and science, which makes life a lot easier for me. In my home-ec class, I'm actually going to making a yukata! Woo!
Saturday, April 14, 2007
Hisashibari!
So I went into a sushi bar today with my host family. It was pretty fun. I went with my host grandma, my, err, aunt, her husband, and their kid (who I'm completely in love with). Honokachan (the five year-old kid) was eager to go play in the back kids' room, but everyone was busy eating. So I went with her (actually, I secretly wanted to play in the kids' room too) and boy did it cause a ruckus. First, Honochan is a really shy little girl. The only reason she wanted me to go with her was because the idea of actually walking into a room of screaming kids, finding a playmate, and playing with all those unknown kids terrified her. So she brought me for moral support. When we were about to enter, she told me to go in first. And then she decided she didn't actually want to play, so we started heading back to the table. She decided she really did want to play and we went in together. At first, she was too shy to mingle with anyone, so we sat in a corner and played with some balls together. But the other kids noticed me right at once. Not only am I rather big kid, but I also have the telltale blonde hair and blue eyes, which I so often forget about. Suddenly, a swarm of kids surrounded us, all shouting "Hello! Hello! Hello!" Poor Honochan curled up with me and I tried to usher us outside the attention. Only the attention followed us. They all came up and introduced themselves to me proudly in English. Even the three and four year-olds got in on it. They asked me to say something in English. They asked me if Honokachan is my real sister. They asked me all sorts of things. Parents came to check on their kids and didn't go back to their tables, so we had parents crowding around the door (when we entered, their where no parents at all anywhere in sight). We went back to the table and waited until it was a little more quiet before we went back. When we left the restaurant, all the kids came up to us and shouted "Goobye! Goobye!" I think Honokachan was proud that I was with her and pleased when I excused myself from all of them to play with her, but not so happy with all the attention. I was sorry she was thrust into the spotlight.
Actually I really like this kid a lot. Besides being absolutely adorable, she's interesting and curious about the world. And she sneaks up and tickles my feet when I'm trying to type on the computer.
Toriaizu (that's my new favorite word. Not sure exactly what it means, but I hear it all the time. Nobody can tell me what it means, so I think it doesn't have a clear translation. My guess is something like "Anyways" or "to change the subject"), the new school year started and I've got a whole new set of classes, friends, and kendo-mates. I'm in advanced classes too, so there's pretty much no chance of keeping up. I'm in math, biology, history, Japanese (the Heather version, not the Japanese high schools student version), English, gymn, art, and calligraphy. And a few free periods to kill. The hardest is absolutely Japanese history. For one, I've never studied it. For two, it's in Japanese I've never heard before, and uses kanji I've never seen before. Nakai Sensei says I can drop it if it's too much. I might, but I'll give it a little time first. I'm only here for a few more months anyways. That's wierd.
Oh yeah (toriaizu), I got my departure date. For sure. August 7. Later than I expected, which I'm annoyed about, but otherwise don't care. That means I'll have about 20 days to come home, unpack, repack, and fly across the country to college. I wish I had at least a bit of time for reflexion, not to mention seeing all my friends and family again.
Aww, Honokachan prepared tea for me. I have to go and have a tea party.
Hope this posts!
Actually I really like this kid a lot. Besides being absolutely adorable, she's interesting and curious about the world. And she sneaks up and tickles my feet when I'm trying to type on the computer.
Toriaizu (that's my new favorite word. Not sure exactly what it means, but I hear it all the time. Nobody can tell me what it means, so I think it doesn't have a clear translation. My guess is something like "Anyways" or "to change the subject"), the new school year started and I've got a whole new set of classes, friends, and kendo-mates. I'm in advanced classes too, so there's pretty much no chance of keeping up. I'm in math, biology, history, Japanese (the Heather version, not the Japanese high schools student version), English, gymn, art, and calligraphy. And a few free periods to kill. The hardest is absolutely Japanese history. For one, I've never studied it. For two, it's in Japanese I've never heard before, and uses kanji I've never seen before. Nakai Sensei says I can drop it if it's too much. I might, but I'll give it a little time first. I'm only here for a few more months anyways. That's wierd.
Oh yeah (toriaizu), I got my departure date. For sure. August 7. Later than I expected, which I'm annoyed about, but otherwise don't care. That means I'll have about 20 days to come home, unpack, repack, and fly across the country to college. I wish I had at least a bit of time for reflexion, not to mention seeing all my friends and family again.
Aww, Honokachan prepared tea for me. I have to go and have a tea party.
Hope this posts!
Saturday, April 07, 2007
Woops!
So I fried my computer and have been using my host family's lately. I just spent about thirty minutes updating and then realized that I haven't actually posted any of my entries that I've been posting for the past few days. Woops. So I went back to them and tried to publish them. Only I deleted them. Guess I'm not so good at Japanese yet. Woops. I think I just deleted three entries.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Today my little cousin came over and jumped on me until I woke up and it felt very much like I was at home. Only I wasn't done sleeping.
I want to apologize for my terrible grammatical and spelling mistakes. I actually think with these mistakes. Oh the horror.
Oh, my dreams are really interesting.
At first I always dreamt in English, then gradually everyone had Japanese accents. Then occasionally Japanese people would speak a word or two of Japanese. The funny thing is that American people always spoke English and Japanese people always spoke Japanese. Usually just a word, then they'd stay quiet for the rest of the dream. Then I started carrying on conversations with the Japanese people in my dreams. Now matches exactly how I think. Mostly everyone speaks English, though if there is a term that's more convenient in Japanese or a phrase that we just don't have in English, it's always said in Japanese.
Oh, and I had a dream that me and my siblings were power rangers.
Mom's coming tonight, so I'll spend today cleaning up the house, packing my overnight bag for the hotel we're staying at, and of course, practicing kendo.
I want to apologize for my terrible grammatical and spelling mistakes. I actually think with these mistakes. Oh the horror.
Oh, my dreams are really interesting.
At first I always dreamt in English, then gradually everyone had Japanese accents. Then occasionally Japanese people would speak a word or two of Japanese. The funny thing is that American people always spoke English and Japanese people always spoke Japanese. Usually just a word, then they'd stay quiet for the rest of the dream. Then I started carrying on conversations with the Japanese people in my dreams. Now matches exactly how I think. Mostly everyone speaks English, though if there is a term that's more convenient in Japanese or a phrase that we just don't have in English, it's always said in Japanese.
Oh, and I had a dream that me and my siblings were power rangers.
Mom's coming tonight, so I'll spend today cleaning up the house, packing my overnight bag for the hotel we're staying at, and of course, practicing kendo.
I think I'm losing it
Hello! I got on to my computer and the other day and realized that my homepage (google.com) has switched for about the fourth time to Japanese (google.co.jp). I never asked it to and I even when it's in English, the option to switch to Japanese is always at the right hand corner. I have no idea where the option came from or how in the world Google knows where I am, but they definitely do. My email is also officially in Japanese and I'm not sure how to fix that, though it seems that it changes back to English randomly. It might be because I write a quite a few emails in Japanese, or it might be that my email is also google and that whatever made them decide to change my homepage also made them change my email. Now, my blogger is also in Japanese. Can you guys tell, or is it just my posting options? It's a good thing this didn't happen earlier in my exchange or there might not even be a blog.
So I've been busy lately. I went out with my last host sister today and later met a whole bunch of her friends that I haven't seen in a while. The day before I went out with my kendo club. We ate and ate and ate and then went out to karaoke. Yesterday afternoon, I went to my friend's goodbye party (she's moving), and the day before I went out with friends from school. The day before I went out with five other exchange students and now, I'm pretty much broke. I haven't eaten dinner here at home in forever. I also smell pretty badly of cigarettes and beer and karaoke. I hope the smell will come off my jacket and scarf and stuff.
Kendo was pretty good today! Sensei told me that I've become good and that he's really happy with my progress. That was really great. I was happy when he told me that. My friends gave me a new assessment of my problems, and I've pretty much fixed the old, common ones. At least, I hope I did. I've been working hard to fix all the problems that are constantly pointed out to me. My newest, worst problem is actually pretty funny. For some reason, I have the hardest time springing forward off my back leg. I had that problem when I was learning jump spins in karate too. So because I have some kind of mental block (fear?) keeping me from making that tiny step, I used to compensate by bringing my back foot forward a little bit to lesson the interval between my feet. The result was that I always ended up to closer than anticipated to my opponent, which means I used the wrong part of the shinai, which is also probably connected to using the wrong tenouchi. So I worked really hard to fix that and everyone stopped fixing that. And then, hehe, yesterday Sensei pointed out that instead of bringing my back leg forward, I'm bringing my front leg back. Darn! I feel like that's much worse because I practically topple over just from that little step back. So I have to retrain my feet to make this tiny, rather normal step. I don't know why it's so hard for me.
I also thought the advice I got today was interesting. At the end of every class someone goes up front and leads through about 4 minutes of technique, sort of like a warm-down. So today was my turn. Haha, everyone says they're so impressed when I go up because I sound like I know what I'm talking about when it's obvious that I don't. They say it's almost like I've been teaching kendo for a few years. They told me that most beginners have a huge self-confidence problem and hate being up front. They don't speak loud enough, they're hesitant with they're technique, they complain when they shouldn't, and they carry themselves slumped and embaressedly. Haha, sound familiar, all you who were around when I started teaching? Even before that when I had to lead warm-ups for the first time? So everyone agrees that I have awesome energy/spirit and that my posture is great (which came as a surprise), but that I don't know a thing about the shinai. Some people say it doesn't make sense. Why do I have such a loud, confident kiai if I can't hold the shinai? Why can I do the small kotei men better than anyone else but I can't do a regular kotei for the life of me? Not that having a karate background makes me even almost good at kendo. I'm a beginner and there are no shortcuts to learning. That's what this year is teaching me. No shortcuts. Well, emersion is sort of a language-learning shortcut.
My Mom should be here by tomorrow evening. Thank goodness. I'm looking forward to seeing her.
So I've been busy lately. I went out with my last host sister today and later met a whole bunch of her friends that I haven't seen in a while. The day before I went out with my kendo club. We ate and ate and ate and then went out to karaoke. Yesterday afternoon, I went to my friend's goodbye party (she's moving), and the day before I went out with friends from school. The day before I went out with five other exchange students and now, I'm pretty much broke. I haven't eaten dinner here at home in forever. I also smell pretty badly of cigarettes and beer and karaoke. I hope the smell will come off my jacket and scarf and stuff.
Kendo was pretty good today! Sensei told me that I've become good and that he's really happy with my progress. That was really great. I was happy when he told me that. My friends gave me a new assessment of my problems, and I've pretty much fixed the old, common ones. At least, I hope I did. I've been working hard to fix all the problems that are constantly pointed out to me. My newest, worst problem is actually pretty funny. For some reason, I have the hardest time springing forward off my back leg. I had that problem when I was learning jump spins in karate too. So because I have some kind of mental block (fear?) keeping me from making that tiny step, I used to compensate by bringing my back foot forward a little bit to lesson the interval between my feet. The result was that I always ended up to closer than anticipated to my opponent, which means I used the wrong part of the shinai, which is also probably connected to using the wrong tenouchi. So I worked really hard to fix that and everyone stopped fixing that. And then, hehe, yesterday Sensei pointed out that instead of bringing my back leg forward, I'm bringing my front leg back. Darn! I feel like that's much worse because I practically topple over just from that little step back. So I have to retrain my feet to make this tiny, rather normal step. I don't know why it's so hard for me.
I also thought the advice I got today was interesting. At the end of every class someone goes up front and leads through about 4 minutes of technique, sort of like a warm-down. So today was my turn. Haha, everyone says they're so impressed when I go up because I sound like I know what I'm talking about when it's obvious that I don't. They say it's almost like I've been teaching kendo for a few years. They told me that most beginners have a huge self-confidence problem and hate being up front. They don't speak loud enough, they're hesitant with they're technique, they complain when they shouldn't, and they carry themselves slumped and embaressedly. Haha, sound familiar, all you who were around when I started teaching? Even before that when I had to lead warm-ups for the first time? So everyone agrees that I have awesome energy/spirit and that my posture is great (which came as a surprise), but that I don't know a thing about the shinai. Some people say it doesn't make sense. Why do I have such a loud, confident kiai if I can't hold the shinai? Why can I do the small kotei men better than anyone else but I can't do a regular kotei for the life of me? Not that having a karate background makes me even almost good at kendo. I'm a beginner and there are no shortcuts to learning. That's what this year is teaching me. No shortcuts. Well, emersion is sort of a language-learning shortcut.
My Mom should be here by tomorrow evening. Thank goodness. I'm looking forward to seeing her.
Friday, March 16, 2007
Seven Month Anniversary
On Sunday (the day after tomorrow) I will have been in Japan for exactly seven months. I had lots of ideas about the thoughts I might be thinking and the things I might be doing by the seventh month mark. I can't say if I'm ahead of progress or behind, because the truth I've gone completely off track. My goals have dramatically changed and I've realized that the reasons that I'm here now and what I'm supposed to be doing are not precisely the reasons why I came in the first place.
I thought by now I would be fluent in Japanese, or near fluency. Because I went through my first text book in three months, I was sure I would working through "Japanese for Busy People Three" by now. I thought I would be in love with the Japanese school uniform and that I'd be able to cook Japanese food. I thought I would enjoy Japanese television with my family and that I might even read Japanese books. I thought I own would have Hello Kitty stickers and pins stuck on it and that I would have whole CD's of famous J-pop singers memorized. I thought I would have no communication trouble and that I would speak only Japanese to my English teachers by now. I thought I'd be brilliant in kendo by now and that I'd have discovered a "new me" and that I would be completely in love with Japan by now.
I am not fluent in Japanese. I still have difficulty making myself understood. While I've made considerable progress, I can only barely call myself "conversationally fluent", especially if I'm talking to my host grandparents (who I've decided have worse Japanese than I do). In the four months that I've been working through my second text book, I have made it about a third of the way through. While this book is considerably more difficult and also introduces kanji, my learning has slowed waaaaaaaaay down and I am content with a new grammatical structure a week. When I'm walking home from school, I enviously watch the college students sport the newest fashions, looking down on us little high school kids. I can't cook Japanese food unless it's the table-top yaki style, which is like barbeque style only a little different. I watch TV sometimes, but more often than not, I completely tune it out and forget to even concentrate on what's going on. It's a lot like math class. As for reading, I bought my first manga and worked through about half of it with only few difficulties, then ran into an English book store and that's the last time I ever touched the manga. I'm still not a huge fan of Hello Kitty, though tolerating her is a survival skill I've picked up. I haven't memorized one single Japanese song, though I can sing "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" in English with my favorite Japanese singer. I still refer to my Japanese/English book and I still primarily speak English with my English teachers. I'm still the worst in my club at kendo (and the newest) and I'm still the same old Heather. And as for being in love with Japan, that's a little more complicated...
I was in love with Japan the minute my Rotary Club back home sent me the email announcing I'd be spending a year here. I was in love Japan as I peered wonderingly at the floating airport out the window. I was in love with Japan as all my teachers smiled and wished me a good morning in japanese-english. There hasn't been a moment when I haven't really loved Japan. But I love Japan in a totally different way than I did before. In the first two months, I loved that I had to remove my shoes and wear slippers in the house and that I ate rice with every meal and that I had to take a subway and a train to get to school. In the second two months, I loved that I was communicating in a foreign language and that I was learning kendo and that I was making so many friends by virtue of being foreign. And during months five and six, I loved that I was adapting and that the food was awesome and that I had scored two awesome host families. I loved the sites and the beauty and the people.
I've realized that I'm not here to be Japanese or to disregard American traditions. I've learned that I dont need to
I thought by now I would be fluent in Japanese, or near fluency. Because I went through my first text book in three months, I was sure I would working through "Japanese for Busy People Three" by now. I thought I would be in love with the Japanese school uniform and that I'd be able to cook Japanese food. I thought I would enjoy Japanese television with my family and that I might even read Japanese books. I thought I own would have Hello Kitty stickers and pins stuck on it and that I would have whole CD's of famous J-pop singers memorized. I thought I would have no communication trouble and that I would speak only Japanese to my English teachers by now. I thought I'd be brilliant in kendo by now and that I'd have discovered a "new me" and that I would be completely in love with Japan by now.
I am not fluent in Japanese. I still have difficulty making myself understood. While I've made considerable progress, I can only barely call myself "conversationally fluent", especially if I'm talking to my host grandparents (who I've decided have worse Japanese than I do). In the four months that I've been working through my second text book, I have made it about a third of the way through. While this book is considerably more difficult and also introduces kanji, my learning has slowed waaaaaaaaay down and I am content with a new grammatical structure a week. When I'm walking home from school, I enviously watch the college students sport the newest fashions, looking down on us little high school kids. I can't cook Japanese food unless it's the table-top yaki style, which is like barbeque style only a little different. I watch TV sometimes, but more often than not, I completely tune it out and forget to even concentrate on what's going on. It's a lot like math class. As for reading, I bought my first manga and worked through about half of it with only few difficulties, then ran into an English book store and that's the last time I ever touched the manga. I'm still not a huge fan of Hello Kitty, though tolerating her is a survival skill I've picked up. I haven't memorized one single Japanese song, though I can sing "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" in English with my favorite Japanese singer. I still refer to my Japanese/English book and I still primarily speak English with my English teachers. I'm still the worst in my club at kendo (and the newest) and I'm still the same old Heather. And as for being in love with Japan, that's a little more complicated...
I was in love with Japan the minute my Rotary Club back home sent me the email announcing I'd be spending a year here. I was in love Japan as I peered wonderingly at the floating airport out the window. I was in love with Japan as all my teachers smiled and wished me a good morning in japanese-english. There hasn't been a moment when I haven't really loved Japan. But I love Japan in a totally different way than I did before. In the first two months, I loved that I had to remove my shoes and wear slippers in the house and that I ate rice with every meal and that I had to take a subway and a train to get to school. In the second two months, I loved that I was communicating in a foreign language and that I was learning kendo and that I was making so many friends by virtue of being foreign. And during months five and six, I loved that I was adapting and that the food was awesome and that I had scored two awesome host families. I loved the sites and the beauty and the people.
I've realized that I'm not here to be Japanese or to disregard American traditions. I've learned that I dont need to
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Hokkaido Pics
This is me in front of the famous
clock tower. 
Me and the famous snowman. I don't know who he is, but there were a whole bunch of him all with the same face. I think he might be a marketing strategy and that's why we saw him everywhere.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
My Mommy's Coming
Today in kendo I sucked, to put it crudely. It was embarassing. At the end of class, when all of the higher ranks gave advice to the lower ranks, I got the same advice from just about everyone, and that I've recently been getting a lot.
The first piece of advice I've been getting from day one, though I feel it's something I've improved significantly with. I'm the gripping the shinai all wrong. I'm using my right hand too much and my left hand not enough. I've been told this so many times I have no trouble understanding the Japanese for "too tense" anymore. Likewise, my whole kendo club knows the word "relax" in English because of me. So whenever I get this advice, I focus really hard on not gripping the shinai too hard with my right hand. I feel like my hand is so loose that the shinai is just dangling in my hand. But, they still tell me I'm tensing too much. Maybe the problem is I that I'm changing the wrong thing, because they're still correcting me. Tomorrow, I will ask where exactly I'm too tense and what to do to fix it.
The second piece of advice is that I'm not using my center enough. Sensei tells met this is why I'm not scoring points in the shiais. My hits are worth nothing because my body isn't behind them. He's also been telling me this for a while, but this also I've been having trouble fixing. I remember when it was a problem in my karate, and occasionally it still is, but I feel like I shoulud be able to do this. Sensei sat down with me (actually stood up with me?) and physically showed me exactly where my hands need to be in order to use my center. The problem I'm having is that the shinai is supposed to be an extension of the body, and thus should be used (as far as I understand) to cover distance. Keeping this in mind, I always extend as far as I can with the shinai and sometimes, they tell me to make it even bigger. But to use my center, Sensei tells me that my kamai should be pulled in really tight. I'm thinking that means that, in the process of men uchi, the hands start pulled in at kamai, lift up with the elbows bent (forming a triangle, my friend told me), and with the left hand, the shinai comes down, the right wrist sort of snapping, adding the whip to the technique, and the elbows extended so that a lot of distance is convered. After the men is executed, you return to a tight (though relaxed?) kamai, keeping the center and not worrying about covering distance yet. What I'm confused about is when exactly the arms extend to reach the opponent. I'm thinking it must be at the moment after your shoulders have reached the position for striking and before the wrists snap into place (if that's in fact what the wrists are doing). Man it's confusing!
The third and maybe most frustrating piece of advice I've been repeatedly recieving is to have a little more confidence. I don't know what that means. That's not advice I can study, or something I can memorize by repetition. I don't know how to fix that. I don't feel unconfident. I know they must be right, of course because they're higher ranks than me, but also because I've seen so many people at White Eagle that would be so much better if they just had more confidence. I can read how to do a men uchi, or ask my friends to show me, or ask my Sensei to show me, or simply watch other people and imitate what they're doing. How do I learn confidence and when did I ever unlearn it? How did I learn it the first time?
The first piece of advice I've been getting from day one, though I feel it's something I've improved significantly with. I'm the gripping the shinai all wrong. I'm using my right hand too much and my left hand not enough. I've been told this so many times I have no trouble understanding the Japanese for "too tense" anymore. Likewise, my whole kendo club knows the word "relax" in English because of me. So whenever I get this advice, I focus really hard on not gripping the shinai too hard with my right hand. I feel like my hand is so loose that the shinai is just dangling in my hand. But, they still tell me I'm tensing too much. Maybe the problem is I that I'm changing the wrong thing, because they're still correcting me. Tomorrow, I will ask where exactly I'm too tense and what to do to fix it.
The second piece of advice is that I'm not using my center enough. Sensei tells met this is why I'm not scoring points in the shiais. My hits are worth nothing because my body isn't behind them. He's also been telling me this for a while, but this also I've been having trouble fixing. I remember when it was a problem in my karate, and occasionally it still is, but I feel like I shoulud be able to do this. Sensei sat down with me (actually stood up with me?) and physically showed me exactly where my hands need to be in order to use my center. The problem I'm having is that the shinai is supposed to be an extension of the body, and thus should be used (as far as I understand) to cover distance. Keeping this in mind, I always extend as far as I can with the shinai and sometimes, they tell me to make it even bigger. But to use my center, Sensei tells me that my kamai should be pulled in really tight. I'm thinking that means that, in the process of men uchi, the hands start pulled in at kamai, lift up with the elbows bent (forming a triangle, my friend told me), and with the left hand, the shinai comes down, the right wrist sort of snapping, adding the whip to the technique, and the elbows extended so that a lot of distance is convered. After the men is executed, you return to a tight (though relaxed?) kamai, keeping the center and not worrying about covering distance yet. What I'm confused about is when exactly the arms extend to reach the opponent. I'm thinking it must be at the moment after your shoulders have reached the position for striking and before the wrists snap into place (if that's in fact what the wrists are doing). Man it's confusing!
The third and maybe most frustrating piece of advice I've been repeatedly recieving is to have a little more confidence. I don't know what that means. That's not advice I can study, or something I can memorize by repetition. I don't know how to fix that. I don't feel unconfident. I know they must be right, of course because they're higher ranks than me, but also because I've seen so many people at White Eagle that would be so much better if they just had more confidence. I can read how to do a men uchi, or ask my friends to show me, or ask my Sensei to show me, or simply watch other people and imitate what they're doing. How do I learn confidence and when did I ever unlearn it? How did I learn it the first time?
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Tea Ceremony
Today I went to a tea ceremony with one of my host relations and two of her daughters. It's a very strict, formal ceremony in Japan, known for it's elegance and beauty. It was interesting. Seiza hurt like the dickens (whatever that means). I hate seiza vehemently. During my kendo test, I sat in seiza on the wooden floor for at least an hour while I waited. That was the hardest part of my kendo test. It's not so bad on our nice, padded floors at the dojo I practice at back home. But on the wooden and tatami floors, I come out with bruises on my ankles and knees, and every time I'm in it for a considerable amount of time, my feet numb to the pain, which I guess is a blessing. Wow, this started telling you about the tea ceremony. Sorry.
The tea ceremony was awesome and beautiful and interesting and will press my host ____ (maybe my aunt? cousin? sister?) to tell me the significance behind all the little details that go into every aspect of the ceremony. I'm sure I unknowingly butchered at least half of it, but it was nice. The tea was good, though bitter, and the okashi was also good. I think it was something anko-ish, but not sure. The little girls that went with us were loud and didn't care for the customs - or seiza for that matter. A long time ago, most Japanese sat in seiza any time they sat down, and thus were accustomed to it from a young age. Now, usually only really old people can sit in it for long periods of time (more than five minutes) without feeling pain. My Japanese friends hate it as much as I do.
Other than that, not much happened. Tomorrow I'm going out for a long bikeride around town. Maybe all day. I have no school and no kendo and no plans. Only it'll be freezing out (maybe literally) so I might just stay home and read. My current book is incredibly interesting. It's called "The Arabs" by David Lamb and is an interesting insight into the Middle Eastern history, culture, politics, and religion. I'm looking for a good follow-up book, but don't where to go. I hear Bernard Lewis is a superb author, but his books are so numerous I don't know where to start. Anyone have any suggestions? I'm looking for something not to dense and not written for someone with a lot of background on the subject.
Hope you have an absolutely magnificent day.
The tea ceremony was awesome and beautiful and interesting and will press my host ____ (maybe my aunt? cousin? sister?) to tell me the significance behind all the little details that go into every aspect of the ceremony. I'm sure I unknowingly butchered at least half of it, but it was nice. The tea was good, though bitter, and the okashi was also good. I think it was something anko-ish, but not sure. The little girls that went with us were loud and didn't care for the customs - or seiza for that matter. A long time ago, most Japanese sat in seiza any time they sat down, and thus were accustomed to it from a young age. Now, usually only really old people can sit in it for long periods of time (more than five minutes) without feeling pain. My Japanese friends hate it as much as I do.
Other than that, not much happened. Tomorrow I'm going out for a long bikeride around town. Maybe all day. I have no school and no kendo and no plans. Only it'll be freezing out (maybe literally) so I might just stay home and read. My current book is incredibly interesting. It's called "The Arabs" by David Lamb and is an interesting insight into the Middle Eastern history, culture, politics, and religion. I'm looking for a good follow-up book, but don't where to go. I hear Bernard Lewis is a superb author, but his books are so numerous I don't know where to start. Anyone have any suggestions? I'm looking for something not to dense and not written for someone with a lot of background on the subject.
Hope you have an absolutely magnificent day.
Friday, March 09, 2007
Blogger Plus?
So Blogger updated and expanded and tricked me into switching my blog over to the new, savy version. It wasn't really a trick (it said "do you want to switch accounts? yes or no?") but I wish I hadn't anyways. The differences are minor and I'm sure I'll like this one better after I get used to it and explore the features, but actually, I don't care much for features. I just want to say what I have to say and for the lovely readers to read what it. I don't need sound effects or flashy lights. Just this little text box is fine.
But the changing over process wasn't exactly difficult or anything, so I shouldn't complain. One thing that's incredibly annoying is that I have to sign in every time I come now, instead of the site remembering me. There's a button that says "remember me" and I check it every time, but it still makes me sign in. Bah.
Anyways, about Japan. Japan. Uhm, yeah, Japan is cool. Really cold. I feel so stupid complaining about the temperature because it's practically spring outside and I'm not living in the mountains anymore, like I was at the last house. But insulation is just nonexistant and I feel it for sure.
My mom's coming to visit in about two weeks, which I'm pretty excited about. I haven't been homesick but there's just something about being away from my mom for so long. I know I'm supposed to grow up right about now and be prepared to do everything on my own and I am prepared, but mom's are a good asset and I would prefer not to spend so much time away from my own. Usually, whenever I get frustrated, it's not because I can't make myself understood, but because people don't react the way I want or expect; sometimes they just flat out don't believe me. For example, if I told my last host mom about an extra kendo practice scheduled on Saturday, she would wait until I went upstairs, then call my kendo Sensei and ask if there's a kendo practice scheduled for Saturday. My Japanese has certainly progressed to the point where I can understand "practice, Saturday." If my family has a question for my teachers, instead of telling me to ask my teachers, they write a letter and tell me to give it to my teachers. I usually tear up the letter and ask myself.
The thing is that this is just a different place and the actions can't be compared to Americans. What I mean to say is that they aren't trying to insult me and don't necessarily thing I have wrotten Japanese. Let me explain.
One of the huge, fundamental differences between Japan and America (there are many) is the difference in the amount of ethnic varieties. America, of course, is made up of a whole gaggle of peoples from all over the world. Sometimes the Japanese admit to me ashamedly that they can't the difference between Americans and Canadians and Germans and French. Don't worry, we can't either. There virtually is no difference. The essence of America is it's diversity and most Americans can claim at three or four ethnic heritages. I think that I'm Scottish and British and would you believe me if I said Portuegese? Were virtually all foreigners in America. While diverse heritage is celebrated and many people take pride in theirs, Americans are also known for their nationalistic and American-centric way of thinking. A bit ironic. That means we love America. We want America and American ideals to succeed and we strongly believe we are right. Well, usually we do anyways.
In terms of language, that means that English is the Way, golden, beautiful, and awefully important, not only in America, but (as I'm finding) in the world. We have little tolerance to foreigners who blindly stumble into America without taking the time to at least learn the darn language. Perhaps it's because with so many ethnic groups to draw from, we have very little we can actually call "American". I can't tell me how many times I've been asked "So what exactly is American food? Hamburgers?" But it's not. It's spaghetti and burritos and tater tots and all sorts of foods that are associated with other parts of the world. But we darn well have a language, even distinctly different from other "versions" of English around the world. Maybe Americans insist on English because losing English is symbolic of losing our culture and values to foreigners.
I was staying at a hotel with a friend once and the guy at the front desk had a thick Mexican accent. As we were walking away, my friend said vehemently "What's he doing here if he doesn't even know the language?" Such comments are not rare in America and many Americans would agree with her assement in a second. In America, we have many minorities and a vibrant cultural background. We have many distinct values that separate us from our European parents, but little tangible evidence of our culture. No costumes (unless you count the Native Americans) to parade in, and our only culinary work of genius has been the McDonald's Big Mac. But we have a language and that brings us all together and more importantly, acts as a symbol of what we consider to be our culture.
If America is a melting pot, Japan is a blob of oil. Nobody comes in, and those that do don't mesh. Foreignes aren't expected to learn the language. With blond hair and blue eyes, you'll likely never not be a foreigner in Japan. If course Japan also has a culture to defend, which it does fiercely, but all of the cultural symbols aren't rooted in one thing (the language) like in America. In America, foreigners are accepted, but often suspiciously. They are here to take our jobs and raise the crime rate. In Japan, foreigners rarely come to stay. They bring money and business to the touristy cities and then return home with pictures and postcards. They are in no danger of losing their language to the mass amount of foreigners simply because the foreigners go home. In Japan, the burden of translation is on the native person. Or to be more accurate, on the Japanese person. When I walk into a temple, even if I'm with my Japanese family, I'm handed a brochure in English. When I buy a drink at the convenient stores, the shopkeeper points the screen instead of saying the price and finishes with a choppy "Tank you! Come again!"
If a man who appeared Mexican walked into a 7-11 in average America and the storekeeper attempted to communicate with him only in Spanish, it would be offensive. It wouldn't happen, excpet maybe in California.
I'm a foreigner in Japan, and while they love me for it, they wouldn't want or let me be anything more. They're always going to give me the Japanese pamphlets and assume I don't know any Japanese. They don't mean to offend me, but they want me feel welcome and they want my business. So strangers who don't remember their English classes in high school frantically turn the other way when they see me coming. I walked into a store once and asked a lady if they carried scissors. She told me to wait a second and called a cooworker who had done well in English in high school to communicate with me.
Man, all that just to say that my host mom gives me letters to take to school instead of talking with me.
But the changing over process wasn't exactly difficult or anything, so I shouldn't complain. One thing that's incredibly annoying is that I have to sign in every time I come now, instead of the site remembering me. There's a button that says "remember me" and I check it every time, but it still makes me sign in. Bah.
Anyways, about Japan. Japan. Uhm, yeah, Japan is cool. Really cold. I feel so stupid complaining about the temperature because it's practically spring outside and I'm not living in the mountains anymore, like I was at the last house. But insulation is just nonexistant and I feel it for sure.
My mom's coming to visit in about two weeks, which I'm pretty excited about. I haven't been homesick but there's just something about being away from my mom for so long. I know I'm supposed to grow up right about now and be prepared to do everything on my own and I am prepared, but mom's are a good asset and I would prefer not to spend so much time away from my own. Usually, whenever I get frustrated, it's not because I can't make myself understood, but because people don't react the way I want or expect; sometimes they just flat out don't believe me. For example, if I told my last host mom about an extra kendo practice scheduled on Saturday, she would wait until I went upstairs, then call my kendo Sensei and ask if there's a kendo practice scheduled for Saturday. My Japanese has certainly progressed to the point where I can understand "practice, Saturday." If my family has a question for my teachers, instead of telling me to ask my teachers, they write a letter and tell me to give it to my teachers. I usually tear up the letter and ask myself.
The thing is that this is just a different place and the actions can't be compared to Americans. What I mean to say is that they aren't trying to insult me and don't necessarily thing I have wrotten Japanese. Let me explain.
One of the huge, fundamental differences between Japan and America (there are many) is the difference in the amount of ethnic varieties. America, of course, is made up of a whole gaggle of peoples from all over the world. Sometimes the Japanese admit to me ashamedly that they can't the difference between Americans and Canadians and Germans and French. Don't worry, we can't either. There virtually is no difference. The essence of America is it's diversity and most Americans can claim at three or four ethnic heritages. I think that I'm Scottish and British and would you believe me if I said Portuegese? Were virtually all foreigners in America. While diverse heritage is celebrated and many people take pride in theirs, Americans are also known for their nationalistic and American-centric way of thinking. A bit ironic. That means we love America. We want America and American ideals to succeed and we strongly believe we are right. Well, usually we do anyways.
In terms of language, that means that English is the Way, golden, beautiful, and awefully important, not only in America, but (as I'm finding) in the world. We have little tolerance to foreigners who blindly stumble into America without taking the time to at least learn the darn language. Perhaps it's because with so many ethnic groups to draw from, we have very little we can actually call "American". I can't tell me how many times I've been asked "So what exactly is American food? Hamburgers?" But it's not. It's spaghetti and burritos and tater tots and all sorts of foods that are associated with other parts of the world. But we darn well have a language, even distinctly different from other "versions" of English around the world. Maybe Americans insist on English because losing English is symbolic of losing our culture and values to foreigners.
I was staying at a hotel with a friend once and the guy at the front desk had a thick Mexican accent. As we were walking away, my friend said vehemently "What's he doing here if he doesn't even know the language?" Such comments are not rare in America and many Americans would agree with her assement in a second. In America, we have many minorities and a vibrant cultural background. We have many distinct values that separate us from our European parents, but little tangible evidence of our culture. No costumes (unless you count the Native Americans) to parade in, and our only culinary work of genius has been the McDonald's Big Mac. But we have a language and that brings us all together and more importantly, acts as a symbol of what we consider to be our culture.
If America is a melting pot, Japan is a blob of oil. Nobody comes in, and those that do don't mesh. Foreignes aren't expected to learn the language. With blond hair and blue eyes, you'll likely never not be a foreigner in Japan. If course Japan also has a culture to defend, which it does fiercely, but all of the cultural symbols aren't rooted in one thing (the language) like in America. In America, foreigners are accepted, but often suspiciously. They are here to take our jobs and raise the crime rate. In Japan, foreigners rarely come to stay. They bring money and business to the touristy cities and then return home with pictures and postcards. They are in no danger of losing their language to the mass amount of foreigners simply because the foreigners go home. In Japan, the burden of translation is on the native person. Or to be more accurate, on the Japanese person. When I walk into a temple, even if I'm with my Japanese family, I'm handed a brochure in English. When I buy a drink at the convenient stores, the shopkeeper points the screen instead of saying the price and finishes with a choppy "Tank you! Come again!"
If a man who appeared Mexican walked into a 7-11 in average America and the storekeeper attempted to communicate with him only in Spanish, it would be offensive. It wouldn't happen, excpet maybe in California.
I'm a foreigner in Japan, and while they love me for it, they wouldn't want or let me be anything more. They're always going to give me the Japanese pamphlets and assume I don't know any Japanese. They don't mean to offend me, but they want me feel welcome and they want my business. So strangers who don't remember their English classes in high school frantically turn the other way when they see me coming. I walked into a store once and asked a lady if they carried scissors. She told me to wait a second and called a cooworker who had done well in English in high school to communicate with me.
Man, all that just to say that my host mom gives me letters to take to school instead of talking with me.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Shodan baby!
Good to be back! Man have I missed the internet, especially to document all the changes and events that have happened since I last posted. The biggest event that happened is that I changed host families. I'm now living with an elderly couple that sort of remind me of my Grandma and Grandpa Martins. They live fairly close to five grandchildren and two children, so I get to play big sister again, only now it's like big cousin or aunt or something. Whatever the case, I see all five them at least once a week and boy do I LOVE it. I've missed my own siblings and teaching karate to the little guys and my neighbors and all the kids I see everyday. Of course I still miss them, but these five guys are great and keep me healthy, at the very least. One little five year-old I see every day and we always run around and play and read and do lots of things together. Her mother is always apologizing to me, but really it's me who should be apologizing. I'm the one instigating it and she's the one keeping me company, not the other way around.
And of course, I tested for my shodan in kendo. I passed. It was a completely different test than any of the ten or so tests I've taken in karate (where I'm also a shodan). For reference, I'll explain my karate test. It started on Friday evening when a mafia of black belts watched me teach an advanced kids' class. The kids left and I stayed until about 10:00 PM (about three extra hours) sweating to my Senseis' content. The next morning, we had a rather big testing (maybe 17 or so people) so it took a while to get through the beginning. I showed up the next morning at 10 and went again until lunch, which was around 1 or so. Then we kept going at it until 7, when they finally let me limp my way home. Besides the Friday evening teaching (and other miscellaneous forms of torture), I spent most of the test actually preforming every technique I've ever been taught. I also did numerous katas, a few sparring matches, a few board breaks, and holding stances. By the time the test was over, my Sensei's knew very well where I was and what things I needed to improve. It was a very personal test and no two black tests are identical, as far as I know. The reason is that we are encouraged to make the art our own and so as the martial artist grows in skill, the art starts to become unique to the person. This means that two equally ranked brown belts will probably fight very differently from each, depending on the individual's size, strenghths, and personal preferences. It's often times interesting to see personality taking root in a person's fighting style.
Here's how my kendo test went. We had a rather small testing (only 200 or so people) so it went by rather fast. I came at 9 in the morning, when they removed the strip of cloth from my kendo gear and assigned me the number 82. I sat in seiza for about an hour and in "indian style" for maybe another hour or so until it was my turn to prove that I am worthy of the rank of shodan. This means that for thirty seconds, I swung the shinai to my heart's content, got stopped, and did it again with the next person. And then, I went, took off my gear, and waited to see if I passed or failed. I passed. On to section two, where I aced a written test consisting of two questions. They hand-checked all two hundred questions in a matter of twenty minutes or so and then it was on to section three, where I spent about three minutes performing three very short katas. And then it was over and we waited to see who passed and who failed. I passed. It was completely impersonal and very different from any martial arts test I've taken before.
So my host family is great, my school is great, my kendo is great, life is pretty great. It's been like two weeks since I last had internet access! Man is it good to be back!
And of course, I tested for my shodan in kendo. I passed. It was a completely different test than any of the ten or so tests I've taken in karate (where I'm also a shodan). For reference, I'll explain my karate test. It started on Friday evening when a mafia of black belts watched me teach an advanced kids' class. The kids left and I stayed until about 10:00 PM (about three extra hours) sweating to my Senseis' content. The next morning, we had a rather big testing (maybe 17 or so people) so it took a while to get through the beginning. I showed up the next morning at 10 and went again until lunch, which was around 1 or so. Then we kept going at it until 7, when they finally let me limp my way home. Besides the Friday evening teaching (and other miscellaneous forms of torture), I spent most of the test actually preforming every technique I've ever been taught. I also did numerous katas, a few sparring matches, a few board breaks, and holding stances. By the time the test was over, my Sensei's knew very well where I was and what things I needed to improve. It was a very personal test and no two black tests are identical, as far as I know. The reason is that we are encouraged to make the art our own and so as the martial artist grows in skill, the art starts to become unique to the person. This means that two equally ranked brown belts will probably fight very differently from each, depending on the individual's size, strenghths, and personal preferences. It's often times interesting to see personality taking root in a person's fighting style.
Here's how my kendo test went. We had a rather small testing (only 200 or so people) so it went by rather fast. I came at 9 in the morning, when they removed the strip of cloth from my kendo gear and assigned me the number 82. I sat in seiza for about an hour and in "indian style" for maybe another hour or so until it was my turn to prove that I am worthy of the rank of shodan. This means that for thirty seconds, I swung the shinai to my heart's content, got stopped, and did it again with the next person. And then, I went, took off my gear, and waited to see if I passed or failed. I passed. On to section two, where I aced a written test consisting of two questions. They hand-checked all two hundred questions in a matter of twenty minutes or so and then it was on to section three, where I spent about three minutes performing three very short katas. And then it was over and we waited to see who passed and who failed. I passed. It was completely impersonal and very different from any martial arts test I've taken before.
So my host family is great, my school is great, my kendo is great, life is pretty great. It's been like two weeks since I last had internet access! Man is it good to be back!
Friday, February 23, 2007
Host Family Number Three
I change families again tomorrow. One of the hardest things about this exchange is how transient everything is. Especially in Japan, where routine is the driving force of life, it's so easy to get used to everyday things and activities. Tomorrow, not just my family changes, but the style of pillow I use, the color and length of my chopsticks, my slippers, my shampoo, my route to school, the amount of space I'll have and where I'll keep everything. It's exciting, but a little bit of a heavy feeling to know I'll never see those people at the busstop again. Easy come easy go. It's silly to be sad about never seeing them. We've never spoken before. We usually come in the exact same order everyday. First is the short man with a big jacket and a briefcase. And then me, the foreigner wearing pants, and then the sullen-looking girl with hunched shoulders and a puppy-ish face. We've waited in the rain together. Doesn't that mean anything? For three months, we've impatiently tapped our watches and hid under jackets while we waited for the bus. What will they think when I'm not there on Monday? That I went on another trip to Hiroshima or Hokkaido? Or that I went home to my country? Or will they not think anything of it. If I got hit by a car and was on the news, would they worry about me? Would they say to their spouces, "Oh, I know that girl. She's the foreigner with the pants."
I'm not worried or anxious at all about this change, like I was a little last time. I'm excited, but not so much. Mostly, I'm just thinking about how in the world I'm going to be able to repack everything for my treck across the city. I think I've just about doubled my luggage. I'm not sure if I'm exaggerating or not - I'll tell you tomorrow after everything's packed.
So yeah, I'm become a master at adaptation. Not just to a whole new culture, but to anything. In just six months, I've successfully adopted the Japanese way of life, catered to two different family's set of rules, standards, pet peeves, and personalities, and you know, learned a language or two. It's a good feeling knowing that I'm going to change and it's going to be fine, but it's a little tolling knowing that tonight will be the last night I'll ever eat dinner made by my host mom and that tomorrow night I'll probably be tossing and turning in a new bed, with different color blankets and different rules as to how to fold them in the morning. I'm probably on the verge of learning a whole new set of vocabularly that my new host family will favor.
Guess I ought to go pack or write thank you cards or something. I'll get back to you as soon as I get internet figured out at my new house. Maybe right away.
I'm not worried or anxious at all about this change, like I was a little last time. I'm excited, but not so much. Mostly, I'm just thinking about how in the world I'm going to be able to repack everything for my treck across the city. I think I've just about doubled my luggage. I'm not sure if I'm exaggerating or not - I'll tell you tomorrow after everything's packed.
So yeah, I'm become a master at adaptation. Not just to a whole new culture, but to anything. In just six months, I've successfully adopted the Japanese way of life, catered to two different family's set of rules, standards, pet peeves, and personalities, and you know, learned a language or two. It's a good feeling knowing that I'm going to change and it's going to be fine, but it's a little tolling knowing that tonight will be the last night I'll ever eat dinner made by my host mom and that tomorrow night I'll probably be tossing and turning in a new bed, with different color blankets and different rules as to how to fold them in the morning. I'm probably on the verge of learning a whole new set of vocabularly that my new host family will favor.
Guess I ought to go pack or write thank you cards or something. I'll get back to you as soon as I get internet figured out at my new house. Maybe right away.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Hokkaido
I'm sitting on the plane waiting for takeoff. Crossing an entire country in two hours. Can you imagine that? Two hours and I can be virtually anywhere in Japan. In America, two hours of flying may take me to the next state.
We're taking off now and I'm talking to my friend, Zsofia. She's a nice person, though a little more pessimistic than I'm used to. We land and head to Sapporo. Do you know Sapporo Beer? Yeah, that Sapporo. It's a beautiful place where a grand snow festival is held every year for people to build castles out of snow and exquisite ice dancers to spring to life. Hokkaido. Sapporo. We enter our hotel and I am once again made aware of how lucky I am to be doing this exchange with Rotary. If there is anyone out there considering exchange, do it and do it with Rotary. We're at a huge huge, beautiful hotel.
We deposit our stuff and head out to see the source of the famous Hokkaido chocolate. A whismical and fun chocolate factory beckons my friend and I. Like children, we dance in (well actually, I dance in and Zsofia puts a respectable distance between us - can't imagine why...) and gape at the chocolate streaming from one contraption to another until it takes the shape of snowmen and strawberries. A women is making tiny, detailed dolls out of a sugary mixture. The result is women with dresses that I swear are real until I touch them and they melt beneath my fingers. Woops, that's 500 yen. For a brief second, I wish my siblings could be there with me. They understand magic when they see it. The tour ends (inevitably) with rich chocolate cake and hot chocolate that warms all the way through my body. It's a perfect winter day. I've forgotten such days in Kyoto.
It's late now and we are walking back to the hotel. Tsuyamasan, the man that's taking us, apologizes that we can't do more today, but I'm shocked that in a single day, we flew all the way across the country, rested at a hotel, toured a chocolate factory, and had dinner (more like dessert).
It's tomorrow and we have a full day ahead of us. Hotel breakfast, which of course is a clash of miso soup, rice, fish, toast, and cereal. And to the bus station we head. Our chaperone has business to attend to (he's the owner of a company that produces equipment for health clubs or something like that - how random is that??), so he sends us off apologetically on a bus tour through Hokkaido. Only he makes a mistake and we end up on the Japanese only tour. I am secretly thankful. Life is more fun in Japanese. More surprises that way. The lady stops us as we are boarding the bus and lets us know we are on the wrong bus and the English tour has already left. I smile and say in my boldest (and thus most vulgar) Japanese, "No problem! We'll work hard! Let's go and understand Japanese!" and board the bus. The bus driver laughs. Zsofia shrugs apologetically and follows me to our seats. Everyone on the bus loves us. Zsofia is intimidated by the attention, but I love it. It's so much fun! Everyone wants to know where we're going and why we're here and can we really understand the tour guide? Zsofia falls silent and I guiltily (and happily) take the conversation. What fun! People in Hokkaido are more open than Kyotarians. Hehe, I said Rotarians, but with Kyoto instead of Rotary. Haha, I'm funny. (gosh I'm losing it.) We pass by famous parks with statues of dead people, clocks centuries old, mountains covered in more snow than I've ever seen in my life, and line of shops filled with fresh crabs and other assorted seafood. Zsofia thinks it's horrible how everyone is gaping and wanting to eat the fish. I would also think it's horrible if they didn't look so darn delicious. Man have I changed. The people at the stores also love us. I want to see all the fish and I ask about whatever I can. They love me and I love them. One woman stops me and pulls out a fish for me to hold and take a picture with. I'd post it, but the picture was taken with Zsofia's camera. She says it's disgusting and refuses to hold it. Now, instead of them stopping me to strike conversations, I stop them to strike the conversations.
For lunch, we have yakiniku, maybe. It's my first time doing it without a Japanese person there to cook the meat. So I wing it. It's not so hard and I've certainly eaten enough of it to know how to do it. Grease is flying everywhere and Zsofia and I are both wary of the pan of meat glaring victoriously at us. Nevertheless, we approach and toss more meat onto the cooker-thingy. The food tastes of success.
We ride a sleigh back to the bus, which is at the bottom of the mountain. The tour continues and we see wierd places that don't seem so interesting at first glance. Between Zsofia and my own Nihongo, we decipher enough to find the trip exciting. But despite ourselves, we both doze a little in the second half.
We finish the tour absoutely exhausted. Our chaperone (Tsuyamasan) told us earlier we can spend the rest of the day however we want, so we go shopping at a big and rather famous department store (Daimaru), but Zsofia doesn't seem interested. We abandon attempts and head up the stairs to a movie theater. After purchasing really crazy expensive tickets (about $14 each just for the movie), we call Tsuyamasan and he tells us that we should meet for dinner for a few minutes, so I dash back up to the seventh floor and plead my case for a refund, which is finally granted to me. I don't know how to say "Can you refund my ticket?" so I said "I'll give you this ticket and you give me money. Is that okay?" She laughed. I gleefully head back down and we meet Tsuyamasan and his coworkers for a dinner of crab, freshly caught from the glorious oceans lining Hokkaido. Excellent. I think crab is my favorite food.
Tomorrow comes and we head out for the famous Asashiyama Zoo. We watch penguins and polar bears brave the snow. Maybe it'd be more accurate to say they watch US brave the snow. It's pretty cold. Zsofia is mortified with their terribly small living quarters and se we leave with her in tears. I have to admit that for being a world famous zoo that attracts more tourists than Tokyo Disney Land, it was pretty depressing. I forgot before I came that this is still Japan and everything is still on a smaller scale. Some of the animals just looked sick to me.
We eat lunch and head to the movie we didn't get around to seeing yesterday. We watch a manga called どろろ or "Dororo". It is maybe the most imaginative movie I've ever seen and completely what you would expect from a Japanese manga movie.
The next morning, we head to the airport and start our 2 hour commute across the country.
We're taking off now and I'm talking to my friend, Zsofia. She's a nice person, though a little more pessimistic than I'm used to. We land and head to Sapporo. Do you know Sapporo Beer? Yeah, that Sapporo. It's a beautiful place where a grand snow festival is held every year for people to build castles out of snow and exquisite ice dancers to spring to life. Hokkaido. Sapporo. We enter our hotel and I am once again made aware of how lucky I am to be doing this exchange with Rotary. If there is anyone out there considering exchange, do it and do it with Rotary. We're at a huge huge, beautiful hotel.
We deposit our stuff and head out to see the source of the famous Hokkaido chocolate. A whismical and fun chocolate factory beckons my friend and I. Like children, we dance in (well actually, I dance in and Zsofia puts a respectable distance between us - can't imagine why...) and gape at the chocolate streaming from one contraption to another until it takes the shape of snowmen and strawberries. A women is making tiny, detailed dolls out of a sugary mixture. The result is women with dresses that I swear are real until I touch them and they melt beneath my fingers. Woops, that's 500 yen. For a brief second, I wish my siblings could be there with me. They understand magic when they see it. The tour ends (inevitably) with rich chocolate cake and hot chocolate that warms all the way through my body. It's a perfect winter day. I've forgotten such days in Kyoto.
It's late now and we are walking back to the hotel. Tsuyamasan, the man that's taking us, apologizes that we can't do more today, but I'm shocked that in a single day, we flew all the way across the country, rested at a hotel, toured a chocolate factory, and had dinner (more like dessert).
It's tomorrow and we have a full day ahead of us. Hotel breakfast, which of course is a clash of miso soup, rice, fish, toast, and cereal. And to the bus station we head. Our chaperone has business to attend to (he's the owner of a company that produces equipment for health clubs or something like that - how random is that??), so he sends us off apologetically on a bus tour through Hokkaido. Only he makes a mistake and we end up on the Japanese only tour. I am secretly thankful. Life is more fun in Japanese. More surprises that way. The lady stops us as we are boarding the bus and lets us know we are on the wrong bus and the English tour has already left. I smile and say in my boldest (and thus most vulgar) Japanese, "No problem! We'll work hard! Let's go and understand Japanese!" and board the bus. The bus driver laughs. Zsofia shrugs apologetically and follows me to our seats. Everyone on the bus loves us. Zsofia is intimidated by the attention, but I love it. It's so much fun! Everyone wants to know where we're going and why we're here and can we really understand the tour guide? Zsofia falls silent and I guiltily (and happily) take the conversation. What fun! People in Hokkaido are more open than Kyotarians. Hehe, I said Rotarians, but with Kyoto instead of Rotary. Haha, I'm funny. (gosh I'm losing it.) We pass by famous parks with statues of dead people, clocks centuries old, mountains covered in more snow than I've ever seen in my life, and line of shops filled with fresh crabs and other assorted seafood. Zsofia thinks it's horrible how everyone is gaping and wanting to eat the fish. I would also think it's horrible if they didn't look so darn delicious. Man have I changed. The people at the stores also love us. I want to see all the fish and I ask about whatever I can. They love me and I love them. One woman stops me and pulls out a fish for me to hold and take a picture with. I'd post it, but the picture was taken with Zsofia's camera. She says it's disgusting and refuses to hold it. Now, instead of them stopping me to strike conversations, I stop them to strike the conversations.
For lunch, we have yakiniku, maybe. It's my first time doing it without a Japanese person there to cook the meat. So I wing it. It's not so hard and I've certainly eaten enough of it to know how to do it. Grease is flying everywhere and Zsofia and I are both wary of the pan of meat glaring victoriously at us. Nevertheless, we approach and toss more meat onto the cooker-thingy. The food tastes of success.
We ride a sleigh back to the bus, which is at the bottom of the mountain. The tour continues and we see wierd places that don't seem so interesting at first glance. Between Zsofia and my own Nihongo, we decipher enough to find the trip exciting. But despite ourselves, we both doze a little in the second half.
We finish the tour absoutely exhausted. Our chaperone (Tsuyamasan) told us earlier we can spend the rest of the day however we want, so we go shopping at a big and rather famous department store (Daimaru), but Zsofia doesn't seem interested. We abandon attempts and head up the stairs to a movie theater. After purchasing really crazy expensive tickets (about $14 each just for the movie), we call Tsuyamasan and he tells us that we should meet for dinner for a few minutes, so I dash back up to the seventh floor and plead my case for a refund, which is finally granted to me. I don't know how to say "Can you refund my ticket?" so I said "I'll give you this ticket and you give me money. Is that okay?" She laughed. I gleefully head back down and we meet Tsuyamasan and his coworkers for a dinner of crab, freshly caught from the glorious oceans lining Hokkaido. Excellent. I think crab is my favorite food.
Tomorrow comes and we head out for the famous Asashiyama Zoo. We watch penguins and polar bears brave the snow. Maybe it'd be more accurate to say they watch US brave the snow. It's pretty cold. Zsofia is mortified with their terribly small living quarters and se we leave with her in tears. I have to admit that for being a world famous zoo that attracts more tourists than Tokyo Disney Land, it was pretty depressing. I forgot before I came that this is still Japan and everything is still on a smaller scale. Some of the animals just looked sick to me.
We eat lunch and head to the movie we didn't get around to seeing yesterday. We watch a manga called どろろ or "Dororo". It is maybe the most imaginative movie I've ever seen and completely what you would expect from a Japanese manga movie.
The next morning, we head to the airport and start our 2 hour commute across the country.
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