Santa-san wears slippers, too!

Before I begin, a couple of notes. As I look around the office, I see only three other bodies: One belongs to one of the two vice-principals, and the other two belong to teachers. But one of those teachers is only scheduled to be here for about half a day.

There are actually a few more people in the building: some teachers who have offices elsewhere in the school, as well as the office staff. But it's ridiculous that anyone has to be at school. I have a sheet listing everyone who works here and, according to my count, only 18 of 47 of them are here today. Tomorrow, that number drops to 14. Needless to say, but I'll say it anyway, I'll be taking an extended lunch break today. And tomorrow. Go figure.

OK, now that I've gotten that out of the way...

Last Friday I had the pleasure of dressing up as Santa Claus, better known around these parts as "Santa-san," and visiting a local kindergarten. I guess you could say that's one of my jobs as one of only three foreigners living in town. My supervisor told me I was dressing up as Santa so I was dressing up as Santa. I'm sure I could have begged out of the assignment, but I was more than happy to oblige.

One perk of the assignment is that I didn't have to show up for "duty" at the community center-like place down the street from where I live until 9:30 a.m. Since going to school before that didn't make much sense, I got to sleep in. Hooray for Santa!

Another perk of the assignment is that I was originally told to show up on December 12th, by mistake. Which meant that day I also got to sleep in and didn't get to school until around 10 a.m. Santa rules!

Just about the funniest thing about that December 12th mix-up is that when I called my supervisor to tell him something was amiss, he told me I was in the wrong place. So he came to rescue me, took me to the right place, and was then told that Santa wasn't supposed to arrive until until the 21st. Ta da! That's when I told my supervisor, "I'm not as dumb as you look." (Luckily, we get along great!)

The funniest thing about that December 12th mix-up was how I scored a free can of hot coffee.

There I was, standing on the edge of Gokase's "Union Square" (I'll have to come up with a better name for it later, but that's what I call the "heart" of this village, the parking lot in front of the "big" grocery store), waiting patiently for my supervisor to come to my rescue, when this man in the parking lot started motioning toward me.

At first, I thought, "Oh, this must be the guy I'm supposed to go find." But then I thought, "No, no chance. I think he needs some help with something." So I gave him this look like, "Yeah, sure man, what do you need?" And then he started motioning more to me as if he needed help carrying something perhaps. And then I think he signaled to his buddy that he had found someone for the job. And then he signaled back to me, first putting his hands together as if he were lifting something up and then giving me the ol' "OK" sign with a slight shrug of his shoulders. So I finally got the message and walked over to him. And all the time I couldn't help thinking to myself, "Is this guy mute?"

It turns out he needed help moving a small tent stand. The thing weighed all of about 3 pounds and we moved the sucker all of about 10 feet, so I probably used up a grand total of about 5 seconds of my time and zero calories of my energy helping the guy out. Still, he insisted on buying me a drink from one of the, surprise(!), three vending machines that were right there.

Of course, he didn't ask me if he could buy me a drink. He just grabbed some coins out of his pocket, pointed to one of the machines, gave me this look like, "You wanna drink?" and bought me a can of hot coffee. While he was putting the coins in, I even tried to stop him, saying to him, in Japanese(!), "It's okay, it's okay, it's okay!" But he ignored me and bought me the drink anyway.

Even after he handed me the drink and I said "Thank you!" in Japanese(!) he didn't appear to understand that I actually knew a word or two of his language. I'm glad that I don't normally come across such people who are "afraid" to (try to) talk to me in Japanese. But if do I ever come across another such person, hopefully he or she will also be kind enough to buy me a drink!

Now, back to my Santa story.

So I showed up at 9:30 a.m. and sat around a small room with three other Santa wannabes (one each for the four kindergartens in the area) and various assistants (the elves, I suppose you could say). And then the moment came and I was finally handed a Santa suit. I tried it on, was surprised it fit (lengthwise, not girthwise!), and was actually rather impressed with how I looked in it. Yama-san, meet Santa-san.

Around 10:00 we departed by "jumbo-taxi" for the kindergarten, which was roughly 1 minute away. I was hoping we'd walk through town, to see what kind of looks I would get. But I guess Santa isn't a walker. So the jumbo-taxi was my sleigh, minus the reindeer. Oh, and the "we" was me, the taxi driver, and my "elf."

Anyway, at the kindergarten we did a bit more sitting around and drank some tea, and the taxi driver and my elf prepped me for my job in a mix of Japanese and English. And then we finally got to go see the kids!

There were a whopping 52 of them and they seemed rather surprised that Santa was there. So I waved to all of them, gave them a ton of hearty "Ho, ho, hos," and repeated "Merry Christmas" over and over, before finally sitting down on the stage in front oft them.

There was an awkward brief moment of silence before the children started a short question-and-answer session with Santa. I have no clue what the kids were asking, but that's why I had my elf. I whispered my "answers" into his ear and he told the kids what I "said." That went on for about five minutes and was really bizarre. And the whole time I felt rather uncomfortable sitting in the tiny chair they had provided me with (which I guess was supposed to be Santa's throne) and wearing a pair of those ridiculous slippers that I talked about in an earlier blogpost.

When the Q&A session ended, all the children sang a song for me and after that we finally got around to passing out the presents. The children lined up in front of me and I handed each one of them a little bag of goodies. The littlest ones were carried over to me and guess what? Yes, they started crying when they got a good look at me. That was so cute!

Finally, there was a brief photo session so some of the kids actually got to sit on Santa's lap. But since no one told them to tell Santa what they wanted for Christmas, I was off the hook for more presents!

Unfortunately, after the pictures were taken, it was time for Santa to say good-bye. Some of the kids wanted me to stay longer and were tugging at my outfit. But off I went, back to the North Pole.

I was kind of hoping to keep wearing the Santa suit for a while, but I had to take it off as soon as we got downstairs. Oh, well. The fun was over. But the memories will last! Especially thanks to the picture of me and the kids in the local newspaper. If you look closely (and can read katakana), you will see my name, on the right-hand side, just below the "T)"! Pretty cool, huh? Oh, and Santa-san, if you're reading this: I'm not leaving you cookies and milk, I'm leaving you a pair of slippers that fits! So be good to me! Oh, crap. I just realized Christmas is over. Never mind Santa-san. I'll see you next year!

It's Christmas Day, and I'm at school.

Only in Japan. Only in Japan are the people crazy enough to be at work on Christmas Day. So here I am at school, along with most of the other teachers and staff, and there's not a single student in sight.

At least we had yesterday off, but only by coincidence. We didn't get yesterday off because it was Christmas Eve, we got yesterday off because December 23rd is the Emperor's birthday. And since December 23rd fell on a Sunday this year, we got Monday off instead. How nice!

Crazier still, some teachers were actually supposed to be teaching today. You see, the junior-high-school students went home for the holidays after school on Friday, but the high-school students weren't scheduled to go home until after school tomorrow! But that plan changed for some reason (a lot of kids were sick?), and the high-schoolers were allowed to go home on Saturday. So all the students are gone. But here we are anyway.

Before I came to Japan, I heard that the Japanese were very hard workers. For example, I heard about all the long hours Japanese workers put in at work, all the pressure kids were under to get accepted to good colleges, and all the deaths (including suicides) that were supposedly connected to the stressful lifestyle over here. (Did you read the "death by overwork" story published in the Economist about a week ago?)

And now that I'm here, I can personally attest to the fact that, yes, the Japanese do put in long hours, at least in schools. (Even though the school day doesn't start until around 8:10 a.m., which isn't all that early, most teachers stick around until about 6 p.m. or so.) But it's hard to say if Japanese teachers truly work harder than their American counterparts, just because they put in longer hours at the workplace.

For instance, in America, for the most part, teachers teach five classes a day. Here, well, I'd say teachers teach only about 12-15 classes a week. So what do teachers do during all of those other hours at school? And what do they do on days like today, when there are no students around? Good question.

If you ask me, there's a whole lot of nothing going on: Phone-answering, envelope-stuffing, paperwork-completing, desk-cleaning, smoking-break-taking, and "I'm-busy"-acting, followed by more phone-answering, envelope-stuffing, paperwork-completing, desk-cleaning, smoking-break-taking, and "I'm-busy"-acting. I'll be doing a lot of the above all week long.

Not all teachers will be here every day this week, but those who do stay away from school have to take a day off. The only days off that everyone gets are next week, from Monday to Thursday.

Of course, in all fairness to my colleagues, Christianity is practically non-existent over here, so there's really no reason for the Japanese not to work on Christmas Day. And I'm actually very impressed with the abilities and professionalism of my fellow teachers. (Overall, I'd have to say that, on average, teachers here are far more qualified than teachers in the United States.)

So it's certainly a bit unfair of me to say the Japanese are crazy for being at work today. But if you look around and see the deserted classrooms, well, you have to wonder what the point of being here is. And if you were to ask around, I'm still sure everyone who is here today (except for "Jumi-cho," but that's another story) would tell you that they'd rather go climb a rock.

Is that mochi? Mochiron!

You'll have to forgive me for starting off another blog on the topic of the cold weather, but I have to get something off my chest. Or rather, I wish most of my colleagues here at school would get something ON their chest.

I'm sitting here at my desk at school wearing on my chest, namely: Four shirts (three of them of the long-sleeve variety and one of those three my trusty ol', beat-up, formerly-owned-by-Jack-"the Ripper"-Clark wool baseball undershirt), a thick sweater, and a fleece jacket. And for good measure, I'm also wearing a knit hat (on my head). Granted, it's not how I prefer to dress. But guess what? I'm not cold. And guess what else? The heat is on. Yet another reason to not be cold. (By the way, right now the kerosene heater is making what I swear is that exact same whirling, whistling sound that an airplane's engines make as the plane sits on the runway, waiting to continue taxiing. Makes me wonder where I'm flying to.)

So why, oh why, is practically everyone around me cold? And why does practically everyone around me have to make that horrendous suck-wind-through-their-teeth (accompanied by groans of "samui!") sound every five seconds that absolutely drives me nuts? And why do so many of my colleagues look like they are freezing to death?

News flash: Winter hasn't officially started yet. It's still cold and will be for some time. Stop complaining and dress for the weather. For crying out loud! (Which is exactly what the people around me are doing: Crying out loud!) If you think it's cold here, go to Vermont. Now that's cold!

OK, now that I've gotten that rant out of the way, on to my post for today.

Yesterday, I had the pleasure of participating in a mochitsuki "party," if you will, right here at school. As I mentioned in an earlier blog post, rice is more pervasive in the culture over here than I ever imagined, and mochi is just one more part of that pervasiveness. Mochi is a sort of Japanese "pastry" (ha ha ha) made of rice (mochi rice, of course) that has been pounded into
oblivion by willing participants such as myself. Mochitsuki is the whole process involved in making the mochi.

Most people at the school figured yesterday was my first experience with mochi-making, so they were surprised to hear that I first learned of and participated in mochitsuki at an agricultural festival in Takachiho that was held about a month ago. But that time I was barely involved in the process. This time, I got a much better look at how mochi is made.

So far, the only Japanese food that I've tasted and can't stand at all is a disgusting soybean concoction called "natto." (Natto is so gross that whenever I see it, I want to puke. It reminds me of TV shows like "Fear Factor," and I think to myself: "The only way I'm gonna eat this is if someone pays me a LOT of money.") But I have to rank mochi right up there with the most boring, flavorless, "what's-the-point-of-eating-this?" foods ever created by mankind.

Just about the first step in preparing mochi is, of course, boiling water. Then, the rice, wrapped in a thin cloth "blanket," is placed in a wooden container that sits above the boiling water. When the rice is "done," the fun begins.

The rice is then placed in, or rather, poured into one of various types of big, thick-walled, polished-stone "bowls" that have been wetted down with water to prevent the rice from sticking to them. Then two, three, or four people grab big wooden mallets, dip the ends in water, sort of massage the rice for a minute of so and then start pounding the daylights out of the rice.

A "whacking" session usually only lasts for about a minute. That's because unskilled whackers often hit other mallets or the side of the "bowl" rather than the rice, so occasionally splinters make their way into the mass of rice, necessitating a quick break to remove them. Also, most whackers quit after about 30-50 whacks, since their arms tend to get tired and the rice starts to stick to the mallets. These frequent breaks mean that bystanders often have a chance to join in on the whacking. And about ten of these minute-long pounding sessions later, the rice is ready to be shaped into mini dumplings or pancakes or whatever else you want to call them.

Sometimes, if you're really unfortunate, the mochi is served plain. That is how it was served the first time I participated in mochitsuki as well as at one of the kagura dances I attented. Eating plain mochi is almost like eating chewy Play-Doh. It's NOT good. Other times, such as today, the mochi is filled with anko, a (supposedly) sweet (but really not-so-sweet) azuki bean paste. So what you end up with is pounded rice filled with pounded beans. Heaven! (There's a running joke between me and the kids that anko is actually Japanese chocolate!) And I've also had mochi served with a brown, arrowroot powder that is called kudzu-mochi. I have to admit, that was probably that best type of mochi I've had. It's still just plain ol' rice, basically, lumped into a ball, but at least this wasn't just white rice, it was "brown" rice.

It amazes me that the Japanese put so much work into producing such a plain product. But just about every Japanese person I've met really likes mochi. Have a look for yourself. Doesn't it look delicious? Mochi? Mochiron!*

*Mochiron means "of course."

Two words: Atsui and Samui

No, those aren't the last names of a couple of Japanese baseball players. Those are the Japanese words for "hot" and "cold," respectively.

When I first got here, it was boiling. I wore shorts and my trusty sleeveless T-shirt whenever I could, I constantly put to use one of the countless freebie fans that I picked up in no time (you find them all over the place since they are a popular marketing device), and I always carried around a small towel like everyone else, to wipe the sweat that was pouring off my brow. In the picture here, you can see that I even advanced quickly from carrying my towel to wearing it on my head, as many guys in these parts do.

And everywhere I went, I heard people saying, "Atsui desu ne!?" Well, I barely knew any Japanese at the time, but I was certainly smart enough to figure out right away what those words meant: "It sure is hot, huh?" For those of you out there who've never been to Japan, trust me on this: Come to Japan in the summer and you will quickly learn the true meaning of "Atsui, desu ne!?" It's HOT HOT HOT! Actually, it's not really the heat that bothers everyone, it's the humidity.

It stayed hot until about mid-September. Then it cooled down a bit, and by the end of the month, I could finally put away my trusty ol' towel. (NOT! See, you always carry around a towel here, because there are usually, or at least quite often, no napkins in restaurants and no towels to dry your hands off with in many bathrooms, for instance.) I was still wearing my short-sleeve shirts, but at least I wasn't dripping in sweat.

The cool period didn't last very long, however. Right about the middle of October, the temperatures started to drop and the teachers and students switched to their winter wear. I must have not gotten that memo (like many other memos!), hardy har har.

I remember the first day of the switch, I glanced around and all of a sudden just about every teacher besides me was wearing long-sleeve shirts and ties (most teachers didn't bother to wear ties in the hotter months). And I tell you, it really wasn't any colder that day than it had been several other times earlier in the month. But I guess the Japanese, as individuals, don't like to write their own rules. That was the day to switch, so switch they did.

Because I was still wearing my short-sleeve shirts, I started getting funny looks from other teachers, all of them wondering how I couldn't be cold. Well, I wasn't, plain and simple. But sure enough, a couple of days later, winter arrived overnight, and I was caught unprepared. Note to self, I thought: Bring a jacket from now on, just in case! (Winter in October? What's going on here? As much as I like Gokase, I still wish it weren't located near the highest point on the island, since that makes it just about the coldest place to live on the island of Kyushu!)

I can't recall one day here when I wore one of my long-sleeve shirts without a jacket or sweater over it. That's how quickly the temps sank from warm, minus the humidity, to cold, rather than from warm to cool to cold.

Well, those cold days in October quickly gave way to cooler temps once again, especially on the coast, at least for a while. I guess we were having the Japanese version of an Indian summer. So I put away my jacket and busted out my short-sleeve shirts once again. But I was still just about the only one of the teachers who didn't make a definitive switch to winter wear.

By the beginning of November, it gradually got colder and colder, however, and some days I seriously began to worry how I was going to survive the winter. At school, that is. I tell you, some days it was absolutely freeeeeezing in the building! And did anyone turn the heat on? Nope! (In August, when it was boiling, the best they could do for us was turn on some electric fans. Meanwhile, the monster air-conditioners that are attached to the ceiling sat idle. I have a funny feeling those are used for a limited time only. So no surprise there about the lack of heaters.)

And guess what I started hearing, time and time again? "Samui desu ne!?" I'll give you a million bucks or a million yen (your choice) if you can tell me what "samui desu ne!?" means in English! OK, just joking. But you're right, it most certainly means, "It sure is cold, huh?" Even when it wasn't cold, at least as far as I was concerned, I heard that phrase over and over. It's like everyone gets paid 100 yen every time they say it or something!

And then, one day in the middle of November, I heard talk about powerful, kerosene heaters. "Heaters at last! Heaters at last! Thank God Almighty, we have heaters at last!" I thought to myself. Too bad I didn't read the fine print before I got my hopes up. Namely: 1) The heaters weren't coming out of storage until December 1; and 2) The heaters can only be used if the INSIDE (Ahhhhhhhhh!) temperature is under 50 degrees. Like I said: Ahhhhhhhhh!

As December 1st approached, the days were getting colder and colder, most teachers and students were wearing more and more layers of clothing, and "samui desu ne!?" was quickly gaining in popularity. By the end of November, it was so cold at school that I sometimes wore two jackets and a knit hat. I spotted at least three teachers doing their best impersonation of the Michelin man, with their big puffy down jackets. And it wasn't unusual to find some students and teachers bundling up in blankets while seated.

What the heck is going on here? Do the Japanese really like to torture themselves? As far as I'm concerned, yes! December 1st is the day those heaters come out, so pray that Hell doesn't freeze over before that. Because even if it does, by God, those heaters will not be turned on!

The heaters first appeared in the library on November 28th. (When I first saw them, I made a fist and let out a little "Yes!") Two days to go. And then on November 30, the kids started distributing the heaters throughout the school. (Another fist and another "Yes!") One day to go. Only there was one little problem with that. Can you remember what day December 1st fell on this year? (C'mon, that was just a few days ago!) That's right, Saturday! Guess what that meant? More suffering! More waiting!

So there were the mega-heaters, sitting all around school. Idle. Worthless. Useless. Torturing us like crazy. Gee, thanks but no thanks! All the shouts of "samui desu ne!?" weren't going to change a thing. Wait 'til Monday.

And then Monday arrived! Hooray, it's Heater Day! NOT! I eagerly waited for someone to turn the darn things on, but for some reason, they just sat there, idle as before.

When I went to one of my classes, I asked a teacher I was working with why we couldn't turn the heater on. His reply: No kerosene. You've got to be kidding me! No kerosene!? What the heck!? After class, I asked another teacher why we couldn't turn on the heaters in the teacher's room. He quickly reminded me of the fine print: It wasn't under 50 inside! Well, at least he had a sense of humor about it and suggested that we open the windows...

December 3rd came and went without the use of the heaters and I was starting to doubt this whole heater thing. Maybe it was just a sick joke?

December 4th. Tuesday. I noticed something different about the heater closest to my desk. The cord was stretched out on the ground, and the plug was inches away from the socket. Torture! "Please, someone, anyone, finish the job and plug that damn heater in before I strangle someone or freeze to death (whichever happens first)!" And then, at 9:26 a.m. (Who, me, checking the time?) history was made! The heater was plugged in, and the "on" button was pushed. And then, like a miracle, flames appeared and heat began to flow. Hallelujah! Hooray! And, several hours early, Happy Hanukkah!

(Editor's note: Despite the fact that the heat is now flowing and the school is noticeably warmer, the cries of "samui desu ne!?" are more popular than ever! I guess I need to get in on that money-making scheme...)

Recitation, Speech, Debate

Back in early October, a regional recitation and speech contest for junior-high school students was held in Hinokage, a town that is not far from Takachiho. The winner of the speech contest and the first- and second-place finishers in the recitation contest advanced to the next round, which was the state-wide competition. The state-wide competition was the end of the road for the competitors in the recitation contest, but the top three finishers in that speech contest advanced to yet another round. As far as I know, these competitions are held once a semester, one for junior-high school students and one for high-school students..

My school sent five kids to the regional contest in October. Three participated in the recitation competition and two in the speech competition. And I'm proud to say that one of the five, the only guy, advanced to the all-state recitation contest (he was not one of the six "winners" there), and one of the girls took third place in the speech contest.

Contestants in both categories are judged on such things as pronunciation, intonation, and delivery. But in the end, no matter what the subject of the speech or recitation, the bottom line is, the winner is the one whose English is best. Period. That's why I'm not much of a fan of these contests.

Another reason: I didn't notice much of a difference, if any, between the recitations and the speeches. For the recitation contest, each student had to memorize an excerpt from a story of their choice and recite it from memory as well as possible. And for the speech contest, each student supposedly wrote his or her own speech about a topic of their choice and also had to memorize it and deliver it as well as possible. But the speeches were definitely not always the students' own work. Trust me on that one.

So what is the difference between memorizing a piece a literature and memorizing what someone writes for you to say? Not much, really.

Japanese high-school students also have the opportunity to participate in debate contests. I got to attend one in Miyazaki city at the end of October. My school sent two teams of three to the debate contest. The debate topic was whether or not students should have to attend school on Saturdays, as they once did in Japan. Each team took on two other teams, once arguing for and once arguing against.

The debate contest is a much better event than the speech and recitation contests. Even if your English is great, to win you also have to be able to argue your point, organize your thoughts, and think quickly, for example. And unlike at the recitation and speech contests, the topic for everyone at the debate contest is the same, which levels the playing field.

Ka-Ka-Kagura, Ka-Ka-Kagura

Last Thursday, one of my colleagues told me about an event that was happening that night in a couple of the villages surrounding Takachiho. The event was kagura. Kagura is a type of traditional, slow-paced, theatrical dancing that is rather famous around these parts. For instance, the Takachiho shrine holds a daily one-hour kagura performance (that I have yet to check out), and one or two kagura dances are usually performed at the various festivals that are held around here. (I have seen some of those.)

But there was one big difference between the kagura being held Thursday night and those other "kaguras." See, Thursday night's kagura was the real deal. What do I mean by that? Well, how does all-night kagura sound? Yep, they start dancing around 7 p.m. and don't stop until about 7 a.m. Apparently, the magic number of dances is 33. Think about it: If each dance lasts 20 minutes, that's 11 hours of dancing! But I saw one dance that lasted for almost one entire hour! Holy cow!

When my colleague mentioned the dances to me, he gave me quite of bit of interesting background information about the whole activity. For example, the dances are usually held at someone's house. I'm not quite sure how someone gets chosen to host the event, but whoever does get chosen ends up hosting for something like 30-40 years! Which means the lucky homeowners are forced to renovate their place to accommodate the large amount of people who watch the event.

Furthermore, guests commonly bring one or two bottles of shochu (which is kind of like gin, or schnapps minus the fruity taste) and/or some money in exchange for the opportunity to watch the dancing. In return, the hosts provide food and drinks for the onlookers all night long. Also, each village has its one day during the year that it hosts the event, so you have the chance to go from village to village during the fall/winter months to watch lots and lots of kagura. There is even some sort of official kagura calendar that lists things such as date, location, start time, amount of people that can be hosted, and the amount of cars that can be accommodated!

Anyway, my colleague gave me a rough idea of where to find the two or three performances that were going on that night. So that night I drove around the outskirts of Takachiho for a while and, sure enough, I found a couple of locations rather easily. But neither was all that appealing, because even though I saw was a bunch of cars in a parking lot and lights at both places, I didn't see any people. Obviously, I was in the right place, but I felt uncomfortable about walking into some stranger's house. So I drove off.

Luckily, however, I'm not completely without an adventurous spirit. So instead of driving straight home, I decided to try to find a different place that was hosting the dances. Almost immediately, I found a sign pointing to another performance. Again, however, I wasn't completely sure where the house was. But after a few seconds, I saw lights off in the distance, up on the side of a hill. So I tried my best to find the house. But it was dark, the roads were narrow(!) and windy(!), and I had no idea where I was going.

I ended up driving down a road that was apparently taking me to a village that I had been to once before. (I like to explore these back roads on occasion, and I think I am therefore getting a feel for where they lead.) And then I saw lights! "Cool," I thought. "There must be some kagura going on over there!"

I eventually recognized the side road I was on and knew exactly where I was. And when I got to the main road, I knew I had struck it rich. For one, the street was decorated for kagura, which means there were red, green, and white decorations hanging. For two, there were people walking to a central location. And for three, there was a crowd of people milling around up on the hill. Bingo!

So I parked the car and walked on over. (One thing about parking here: Street parking is practically non-existent in Japan! Then again, almost anything goes here. So for events like this, people park on the side of the road. Even if that means parking only a few feet away from a tiny police station. And you really don't have to worry about getting a ticket. Oh, and another thing about parking: When you buy a car, you have to "own" a parking spot for the car. Since street parking is practically non-existent in Japan.)

I felt right at home right away. See, the dancing was going on inside the house. But the house had these nice sliding doors that opened all along the side, so a lot of people were watching from the outside as well as the inside, huddled around a couple of fires. So I made a beeline for one of the fires. (Despite the freezing temperature, I felt more comfortable standing outside than sitting inside, especially since sitting means not on a chair but on the floor on tatami, which are woven straw mats.) And because as a gaijin I'm almost an instant focal point whenever I walk into a crowd, since we are so few and far between, I was offered some shochu and conversation(!) right away.

The Japanese are a fairly creative folk. So it was no wonder that the shochu was being warmed in long, thick stalks of bamboo held in the fire and served from those same stalks and poured into bamboo cups. How cool! But I don't like shochu, so I passed. Besides, there is absolutely zero tolerance here when it comes to drinking and driving.

But I didn't pass on the conversation. I talked for quite some time (in both Japanese and English) with several locals of all ages as well as a bunch of funny, older guys from as far away as Miyazaki city and Fukuoka (both about 3 1/2 hours away), almost all of whom suggested we meet again some day. But you never know how sincere such suggestions are when they are given to you by half-drunk people.

Anyway, I watched about five hours of the dancing. Most of the dances are rather slow-paced and rhythmic, and they are almost all accompanied by slow drumming and flute playing. Sometimes the dancers carry swords, and they often shake these tamborine-like sticks. Dancers sometimes even wear masks, often with wigs attached. There are solo acts, as well as performances with up to about five dancers. And sometimes the dance is more like a play. And all the performers where these white yukata-like outfits, usually with some red and green decorations attached. Oh, and traditionally all the dancers are male (with very few exceptions).

I'm happy I got to enjoy the "real" kagura! The drum beat is somewhat mesmerizing and I found myself often whistling to the sound of the flute. I kind of wanted to stay all night long to get the full experience, but at 2 a.m. I decided to go home. (Hopefully, I'll have a camera by the time I go to watch kagura again this weekend so I can add some pictures to this post.)

The hidden and missing surprises one encounters while driving in Japan

Today, I did quite a bit of sight-seeing by car. Early in the morning I saw a sign that piqued my interest. (I'm slowly able to recognize more and more kanji, so I'm able to read more and more signs.) 2 kilometers off the main road there was an elementary school. I decided to head up that road, which is one of countless narrow, winding roads that can be found here in this hilly area. I can't recall seeing more than one or two one-way roads in all the time I've been here, but almost every side road is so narrow, it's hard to believe they aren't one-way roads.

So many of the roads around here, even some of the "main" roads, are so windy and narrow that at just about every turn there is at least one pole with a round mirror attached to it so that you can see if there is any traffic coming. I've never seen so many of these mirrors on roads before, but I tell you, they come in handy. Of course, you end up looking at the mirrors so often, you have to learn how to drive without looking at the road! But that's not such a good idea, since another danger lurks: ditches!

Yes, there are ditches along the side of most roads. It's insane. I'm not talking ditches that you can drive into and possibly back out of, either. I'm talking drainage ditches that appear to be just wide enough to swallow your tires whole! It's pretty damn unnerving to tell you the truth. A video of me driving into one of those damn ditches, hearing this awful screeching metal and a loud "BAM!" and coming to a sudden standstill constantly runs through my head as I drive alongside these dangerous obstacles. Ahhhhhh! Luckily, the video has yet to be filmed and I hope it never does make it to a theater near you!

Another surprise along these roads is that you can find a drink (never food!) vending machine just about anywhere, so you don't really have to worry about dying of thirst in case you do happen to drive into a ditch. I swear, just about every five or ten minutes there'll be a drink vending machine somewhere along the road. You can find vending machines at fairly obvious locations such as bus stops and rest stops, but you also find them at just about every pull-out along the road as well as under random trees just off the road. Why don't we have this many drink vending machines in the U.S.? Oh, and in case you're wondering what types of drinks you can buy: Mostly about 10 varieties of tea and coffee, along with one or two sports drinks and usually one variety of coke, too.

Just hope that the machine you find isn't as old as the one pictured here! I really doubt this one still works, but it sure would be cool to refurbish it, eh? I found this one in the middle of nowhere. I went exploring down a road one day and boom, there was this ages-old vending machine. Crazy! The machine sure would make for a nice souvenir, don't you think? Do you dare me?

Ditches and vending machines aren't the only surprises you get, though, when you venture down the path less driven. Some of the roads are so old, they aren't really maintained anymore, so they are slowly becoming overgrown with brush, bamboo, branches, and whatnot. Which means you have to drive slower than slow, not just to navigate the narrowness and windiness! It's really nuts!

I found such a road today. I headed down one road that seemingly led to two towns, since their names were clearly posted on a big, blue road sign, in both kanji and romaji (the latter being English for all intents and purposes). What a road it turned out to be. The first odd thing I noticed was that all of a sudden there was a sign on my half of the road directing me to the left, off the "main" road and onto a tiny road that was serving as a detour. Huh? Since there was no traffic whatsoever, I slowed down almost to a halt and noticed that the "main" road appeared to be washed out or something. Hmmm...

Anyway, I took the detour. After about 30 seconds, I noticed the second odd thing: The road (path?) I was driving on was running alongside a beautiful, brand-new bridge. But the bridge wasn't quite finished. Despite the fact that there were polished signs with the name of the bridge on both ends, tall light poles in place to light up the bridge at night, and shiny guardrails along the sides of the bridge, one thing was missing: The actual road bed! It really looked like the construction crew vanished into thin air before they finished their project.

Anyway, after about another minute, the road/path I was driving on rejoined the "main" road, so off I drove. I couldn't help but notice how the road on that side of the bridge looked like it had been paved only a few weeks ago. But I also couldn't help but notice how the road was slowly becoming overgrown with brush, bamboo, branches, and whatnot. Just when I started to think that maybe I was on the "Road to Nowhere," guess what happened? Yes! The road ended! Unbelievable! I just don't get it. Did the construction workers run out of money? Did they go on strike? Were they on their lunch break? Did they all get kidnapped? Say what?

Come to think of it, I've experienced this before in Japan. You see, down near Nobeoka, there are about six or seven huge support structures in place, running perpendicular to the highway. They have obviously been built to support a roadbed, most likely for a freeway extension. But there's no roadbed, nor does it look like one will ever be built. I just don't get it. What a strange country! Anyway, happy trails to you!

The long and intricate mysteries of school lunches (Part II)

But even before I sat down, I had to get my food. First you grab some chopsticks and a tray. Then you grab your rice bowl and fill it with rice. But for some reason, that day there were rice bowls as well as plates. I grabbed a rice bowl, but the lunch lady told me to grab a plate. I never figured that one out. Eating rice from a plate? Weird.

Yeah, so when I had my food, I started heading toward the table the lunch lady instructed me to sit at. But the principal was at that table and I didn't exactly want to sit with him. So I headed away from the table, but guess who intercepted me? The lunch lady! That was the only time she ever told me where to sit. I don't get it.

Oh, and we fried up our own steaks. Each table had a little grill, big enough for about three steaks. So we all took turns. That was cool. And we got to use a fork and knife! But it seemed that most everyone was using the silverware only for the steak. When they ate their rice and salad, they used chopsticks. I guess you can call that digital multitasking.

As is often the case during a meal, someone, this time the principal, mentioned how well I use chopsticks. (Before coming here, we were told that the Japanese often use such a remark as a conversation starter and I've already heard it a number of times.) I just sort of shrugged and said, "Thanks." But then the principal asked me if I had ever used chopsticks in America. It sort of blew his mind when I told him that using chopsticks in the U.S. is rather commonplace. And then he asked who taught me how to use them and I told him I think it was my mother. Again, he was sort of flabbergasted.

Then the principal asked me about the steak: "Do you like Japanese beef?" (Yes.) "Which is better, American beef or Japanese beef?" (They are both good.) "How often do you eat steak here?" (Rarely.) "How often do you eat steak in America?" (Not very often.)

And I also get this a lot: "Can you eat rice?" I lay off the sarcasm and simply say, "Yes." (I have a feeling that most Japanese seem to think that Americans never or only rarely eat rice.)

Another question that comes up all the time: "What do you prefer: Rice or bread?"

Anyway, yesterday, for the first time, I did not take any rice! I told you I'm sick of it, so I just skipped it. Only one or two kids seemed to notice and when they did, they were kind of surprised. But they quickly forgot.

Oh, and the rice gods must be listening! Because today we actually had something called "takikomigohan," which basically means some sort of flavored rice. I didn't recognize everything that was in the rice, but the main added ingredient was chestnuts, a popular fall food in these parts. (Here's a picture of a different type of mixed rice from back in September.) Man, it was nice to finally have something in the rice! Yeah! But you know what that means: It'll be a while until I'll be eating rice again!

The long and intricate mysteries of school lunches (Part I)

This isn't a picture of yesterday's lunch. It's a picture of a lunch we had some time ago. But that doesn't matter. What matters is what's in the picture. Or what's not in the picture? Look in the lower-left corner and you'll see a super-sized hot-dog-bun-shaped piece of bread! Yes, bread. Instead of a bowl or rice! I guess I'm back to the topic of rice...

As I mentioned before, we only have bread for lunch about once or twice a month. I am so sick of eating rice, I was sooooo thankful to have bread for lunch yesterday! Hallelujah! The world is safe again! Of course, it's not a perfect world I live in here, so what were served was white bread, not wheat bread. What's better, white rice or white bread? Hmmm. I don't know what's healthier, but I know what I prefer: white bread!

I can't stand white bread. I bet I used to eat it every day until I took a nutrition class in college and found out that white bread is basically a worthless, nutrition-less substance. Since then, I've done my best to eat avoid white bread. The same goes with white rice, though, right?

Before I came here, I didn't eat rice that often, but I did eat it. And I probably ate more white rice than brown rice or wild rice. But at least I know that brown rice and wild rice exist. Sure, brown rice and wild rice cost more than white rice. But why can't we have something other than white rice at least once a week, for crying out loud! Can you tell I'm getting sick of rice?

I also know that butter and rice tastes better than plain rice. But do they ever serve butter? Nope. And I know that soy sauce on rice tastes better than plain rice. But don't even think about putting soy sauce on rice here. People will look at you like you're nuts!

Once time for lunch when we had a particularly delicious sauce with our main dish, I poured some of it on my rice. Sure enough, I got a couple of those strange looks that time, but I didn't care! That was some good sauce and I wanted it on my rice. But I quickly found out another reason you don't put any sauce on the rice they serve here, besides the strange looks you get: The sticky rice loses its stickiness, and good luck eating non-sticky rice with chopsticks.

Last week was quite a week in the dorm cafeteria. Tuesday was "Food Appreciation Day." My predecessor mentioned that we would be "celebrating" that day once a month, but since we didn't have such a day in August, September, or October (or was I out of town each time?), I figured they must have trashed the idea. Boy was I wrong.

Just before lunch, I found out from a teacher that we were having the "hungry menu" as he put it. "Oh, no, not Food Appreciation Day!" I thought. Crap! See, on Monday I felt really sick at lunchtime so I gave away most of my food. By Tuesday, I had regained my appetite and was ready to chow down. Why couldn't Monday have been Food Appreciation Day!?

Tuesday's menu was soup, salad, two tiny fish about the size of sardines, and, you guessed it, RICE. I happen to like sardines, so I expected the fish to at least taste good. Wrong. I'm not sure exactly how the fish were prepared, but they were dry as a bone and just about as crunchy as a potato chip.

The teacher I was sitting with (good ol' Moto!) told me that the kids at our table were talking about how the lousy food was having the wrong effect on them. Instead of them thinking, "Geez, I sure am thankful for all the other days when I have such delicious food in such large quantities," they were thinking, "This food sucks! We're hungry!" I have to admit, I was thinking pretty much the same thing. I mean, I wasn't just thinking about how hungry I was, I was thinking that the kids must be pissed!

The weird thing is, you could eat as much rice, soup, and salad as you wanted, as long as it lasted at least. Isn't that sending sort of a mixed message? You can eat as much as you want at just about every meal, as a matter of fact. Nevertheless, I hardly ever go for seconds. Tuesday would have been the perfect day to go for seconds, but I was so put off by the food, I stuck with my one serving and suffered.

Wednesday's meal was back to normal, but I would rate it rather high on the scale. And then, well, you can't beat Thursday's meal: Steak! What the heck is going on here? On Tuesday we were made to suffer and two days later we're being treated like royalty? Say what?

Of course, the steak meal was not without its adventure. Half the school, the senior-high-school students and their teachers, was having steak on Thursday, whereas the other half, the junior-high-school students and their teachers, was having teriyaki fish. On Friday, the process was reversed. I didn't quite understand that until Thursday. That's why when the "lunch lady" asked me on Tuesday if it would be okay if I had steak on Thursday and fish on Friday (Fish Friday!), I said, "Sure."

Most of the time, the students sit in the cafeteria by grade. 1st-graders sit in the back of the cafeteria on the left, the 6th-graders sit in the back on the right, and the other "-graders" sit accordingly, in a U-shaped pattern. Normally at lunch I sit with the junior-high-school students, because I work with them way more often than I work with the high-schoolers. But since I was having steak, the lunch lady directed me to sit with some of the high-school teachers. (To be continued...)

A funny thing happened on the way to the ... school

Actually, more than one thing happened and nothing that happened was really funny. But what happened was different. The differentness of my day started this morning because I left my apartment early. Early means 7:30 a.m. Usually, I leave around 8:00 a.m. Why did I leave early? Because one of my neighbors, Moto (short for Motohiro), asked me last week if I'd be interested in walking to school with him. (All of my neighbors either work at the school or are married to someone who does.)

I've been walking to school since I moved from Takachiho to Gokase. I'm not sure exactly how far from school I live, but I estimate the distance is around 2 km, and I need about about 20-25 minutes to walk to school. For the most part, even though there aren't sidewalks along the entire route, the walk is pretty safe. The last 10 minutes are the safest, since during that time I walk along a back road with very little traffic. (Here's a picture of us, on that very back road, taken on December 11.)

Anyway, I usually leave my apartment around 8:00 because I am not required to be at school until 8:30. All the other teachers (and, from what I gather, the entire office staff) are expected to be at school and at their desks by 8:10. Getting to arrive "late" is just one of countless perks I have being an ALT, or assistant language teacher.

Yeah, so leaving at 8:00 to go to school makes perfect sense whereas leaving at 7:30 is crazy. But sometimes craziness is rewarded.

Moto is Japanese. I'm American. Moto is eager to improve his already good English. I'm eager to improve my beginner Japanese. I'm still a bit chicken to speak Japanese with Moto, since his English is so good, but I'm not chicken to ask him the ol' "How do you say (blank) in Japanese?" and I'm not chicken to ask him "What do those kanji (Chinese characters) mean?"

So today, on the way to school, instead of trying to learn Japanese on my own, from one of several books, I learned from a much better source: a human! What did I learn? I learned how to ask "Are you sick?" (Moto was sneezing) and how to say "Who's the girl on the left/right/in the middle?" (we saw several elementary-school students walking to school). And I learned the kanji for "kindergarten" (we passed the bus stop near the kindergarten). Stuff like that. What I learned may not seem like much, but every bit counts.

When we got to school, I had another new experience, thanks to arriving early. I saw four students standing in front of the main entrance to the school, greeting their fellow students as they walked past them on their way to one of the side entrances (since the kids don't enter through the main entrance). My first reaction was, "I guess this has been going on since I've been coming to school, but I never knew it. It's a good thing I came to school early for once to see this!" (I actually arrived at school at about 7:45 the day we went on the hike to Mt. Aso, but that was not a regular school day, so there were no greeters.)

From what I understood, those particular kids had that duty on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday of this week. And I'm pretty sure they'll be there on those days next week, too. But I'm not sure how many weeks that duty lasts. Oh, and they start greeting kids around 7:45 and stop around 8:05 or so, or around the time most of the kids have arrived at school.

What I find a bit odd about the greeting duty is 1) we are talking about kids greeting kids, not the staff greeting kids, and 2) this is a boarding school, which means that the kids are being greeted just moments after arriving from the dorm, which is a two-minute walk away! (The walk is actually shorter for teachers always and for students heading to and from the dorm during regular school hours. For whatever reason, before and after school, when the kids walk to and from school, they have to take a slightly out-of-the-way route. It's a bit hard to explain, but basically, instead of taking a beeline from the dorm to the school, when they exit the dorm they have to take an exit stage right, go up a staircase, walk back downhill to the parking-lot entrance, and then take a hard left to enter the school grounds. There are other quirks like that that I hope to mention some other time on this blog.)

Yeah, and to cap off my morning, well, as soon as I walked into the teachers room, I noticed a few people in there who are almost always only in there for one reason: whenever we have meetings! So arriving early also meant that I had the pleasure of sitting in on a lovely teachers' meeting.

You can imagine how fun it is to take part in a meeting when you don't understand a lick of what's being talked about. Then again, for the most part, the meetings only last 15 minutes at the most and seem to be a great way for the teachers and staff to exchange information. Also, most teachers, including myself, get to sit at their desk during the meeting. So if I'm really bored, I can just study some Japanese or whatever. And before every meeting, the agenda is placed in our mailbox. So I usually grab it and ask someone afterwards if I missed anything important. 99 times out of 100 there's nothing of importance to me. But apparently in Japan it's important enough to attend meetings even if you don't or can't participate. So in a way, I'm did my share this morning.

(Sorry for not posting any pictures to this story. My camera died recently so the only pictures I can shoot now are those that I can take with my cell phone. Unfortunately, the quality of those pictures isn't that great. But soon enough I'll get a new camera. And I do have more pictures to post. It's just that I didn't think any of them really fit this story.)

Hiking "on" Mt. Aso

This past Friday I went hiking with the "ni-nensei" or "second graders." (They aren't really second graders as we know them, but rather the kids in the second grade of junior high school. Even in high school, you can be in the second grade! But more on that some other day.) That was the third trip I took with the "ni-nensei." (We also visited a folklore museum in Shiiba and shrines in Takachiho and Amanoiwato, but more on those trips another other day.) I was told we were going to climb Mt. Aso. We didn't actually climb Mt. Aso, however, since Aso is a volcano. As a matter of fact, Aso is supposedly the world's largest active volcano. I have no idea if that is true and, since this was the first time I'd ever seen a volcano up close, I can't exactly say it was a giant compared to others. But it was big.

In any case, we did climb a mountain and the peak we made it to the top of is called "Nakadake" (basically: "middle peak") and is 1506 meters high. There was another peak on the mountain that is called "Takadake" (basically: "high/top peak") and is 1592 meters high, but unfortunately, I only made it to about 1520 meters. You see, like I said, I wasn't alone on the hike, so I couldn't just go off on my own. I tried, but then I turned around.

I was part of a group of three that made it to Nakadake first, well ahead of the rest of the pack. I tried to convince the two kids I was with that we should go on to the next peak, since part of my climbing nature is to make it to the highest possible peak. At first they resisted, but then they came along. But after only about a minute, they hesitated again. I initially went on by myself, since I figured I would need about 25 minutes to get to the top of Takadake and back, but then decided the two kids had the better idea: We should wait for everyone else. So I reluctantly turned around.

Eventually, the whole group made it to Nakadake and we had lunch next to the peak. If you know Japan, you would correctly guess what lunch was: Yes, a bento box! Actually, we had two bento boxes: One with three triangular onigiri and the other with the "meal." I gave away my "sausage," more like a frankfurter, as well as the two little umeboshi (pickled plums) on top of two of the three onigiri, but ate the rest.

I expected to go down the same trail that we went up, which was not very steep and therefore relatively easy to climb, but our leader decided to take us around to the other side of the volcano. So we ended up hiking kind of in a big "U" around the volcano and our bus had to come around to the other parking lot to pick us up.

The closest we got to the volcano was on the way up. We were able to see part of the way down into the crater and we were also able to see smoke rising up from the crater. But without being foolhardy or paying for a helicopter ride, there was no way to get a great look inside the crater. (There appeared to be two craters, but I suppose they are considered to be one.)

The route down was a lot steeper than the route up and I was thankful then that we had hiked in the direction we had gone in because we wouldn't have had much fun climbing up that steep path. When we got to the bottom, we walked along what must have been ash or a mixture of ash and sand. I had the feeling we were walking along a desert, except that the sand was black. At one point, most of us started to cough slightly, since we could smell what I suppose was sulfur dioxide coming from the volcano, but no one got sick. We were far enough from the crater that the smell was not overwhelming.

Up until that point, we hadn't come across many people along the trail. But as soon as we made it to the parking lot, I realized how much of a tourist spot Mt. Aso really is. Every few minutes or so a tour bus pulled in to the parking lot and unloaded about 50 passengers. Most of the tourists apparently don't hike the trails. Instead, they ride the cable car up to the observation platform near the edge of the crater, eat at the restaurant, and shop in the souvenir stores. I almost wish we had gone back the way we went up so that I never would have seen the touristy part of Mt. Aso.

Oddities about baseball and softball in Japan

Before I came here, I heard that a bunch of the teachers at my school were on a baseball team called "The Bombers." So I asked my supervisor if I could join the team. Lucky for me, they were happy to have me. And about two weeks after I arrived, we had our first games. Even though that day we were just playing softball, and co-ed softball at that, I was happy to be on a ball field again.

The tournament was held at the G-park (which is presumably short for Gokase-park), a pretty nice athletic facility right across the street from the school. I got quite a dose of Japanese baseball/softball culture that day, starting with the field itself. Some of what I experienced: Most fields in Japan have an all-dirt infield; the players on the opposing teams bow to each other before the game starts; the quality of play isn't as high as I expected for a baseball-mad country like Japan; and we had to wear pin-on jersey numbers, which is apparently not a rarity. Anyway, I just did my best to go with the flow.

A couple weeks later, I finally got my first taste of Japanese baseball, starting with a nighttime practice in preparation for our first game. The first thing I noticed was that we played with "Kenko" balls, a type of rubber baseball. I had heard about them and perhaps even seen them before, but this was the first time that I was actually playing with them. What a weird feeling that was! I was so psyched to play "real" baseball only to find out that I was reduced to playing "rubber" baseball. But within ten seconds or so, I accepted my fate and decided to make the most of it. (If there's one thing I learned from all the years I spent playing and coaching baseball in Germany, Switzerland, and Austria, it's that the best way to deal with cultural differences is to accept them as quickly as possible rather than fight them.)

After a few minutes, I even began to enjoy using the rubber balls, at least on defense, because they took true hops (at least in the infield!), they were easier to throw than a baseball since they were a bit smaller and lighter, and the chance of getting injured was pretty low. But when I came up to hit, I realized that unless you hit the ball square, you weren't going to do much more than hit a weak grounder or pop-up, or put a bunch of wicked backspin on the ball. It was then clear to me that games would go pretty fast. Kenko baseball is therefore kind of like softball, in that the game goes faster than a baseball game.

Oh, and batters don't wear helmets! That rule kind of stinks, but again, there's nothing I can do about it. But it's definitely no fun when a guy is throwing 60-70 mph fastballs and you're not wearing a helmet, even if the balls are made of rubber. I swear in my first game I was getting the gaijin treatment. Guess where the first pitch of every one of my plate appearances was? That's right, they went whizzing by my head!

Another thing I find odd about Japanese baseball is the spikes that many of the players wear. They have these totally old-school spikes, the kind that players wore in the United States in the 50's. And those shoes are expensive. They cost anywhere from about (the equivalent of) $70-125! That's unbelievable! Lucky for me I brought a great pair with me!

And we have four(!) (player-)umpires for our games. How ridiculous is that?

Oh, and here's one final interesting tidbit about baseball over here, at least for now: They make bats especially for the "rubber" game that have rubber barrels! My team has two such bats, and since they look like any ol' other aluminum baseball bat, it took me quite a while before I discovered that they were indeed different. All I know is, I wasn't exactly crushing the ball so I kept switching bats in order to find the "perfect" one. And at some point I put one of the specialized ones in my hands. Shazam! Guess which bat I've been using ever since? And yes, I am hitting much better. Coincidence?

Irashaimase! Irashaimase!

Here is a little video featuring one of the many speakers that are a common sight in supermarkets and other stores. They have little sensors on them and thus start up automatically when someone approaches. This particular one is located in one of the few grocery stores in Takachiho. It's called A-COOP. The "A" stands for "agriculture" or "agricultural." If you listen closely, you'll be able to hear the male voice blaring out "irashaimase!" twice in rapid succession before going on to indicate some sort of sale. I can't make out too much of what he says myself, except for a couple of prices, but by now I certainly know what "irashaimase" means. Especially in A-COOP, you hear that word a million times. It means something like "welcome," but I think it's more of a "I'm here to serve you." It's the first thing you hear in many stores, but the employees at A-COOP go a bit overboard with it. It's pretty funny how often they say it. Even the cashiers, in the middle of ringing customers up, blurt out a constant stream of "irashaimases." It reminds me a bit of walking into a Waffle House. As soon as you enter the door, you get greeted by a chorus of "Welcome to Waffle House" or whatever it was that they say.

Not all of these speakers greet customers with "irashaimase" but they all have one thing in common: They make the customer aware of a special offer. Plus, they are a bit annoying. In Tokyo we were exposed to similar greetings on the streets from store employees and other people selling various things. But, according to my buddy Carl, the concept is carried to far more ridiculous extremes in China. Thank goodness that's not the case here.

Quite a Joy Full restaurant!

There is this really cool restaurant called Joy Full that we were introduced to by my supervisor. He took us there on our first night in town. I guess you could say that Joy Full is a Japanese version of Denny's. Except that the food at Joy Full is really good! And cheap. The place really looks like a regular ol' American-style diner, with booth seating and a drink bar. And the restaurant has these fabulous menus that are full of bright and colorful pictures. That makes ordering easy for someone like me who doesn't speak much Japanese, since all you have to do is point at the picture of what you want. They even serve hamburgers, cheeseburgers, French fries, pizza, spaghetti, and ice cream, for those of you who are thinking of visiting and don't want to eat Japanese food for some reason. But if you do want Japanese food, Joy Full is also the place for you. My favorite meal is fried pieces of marinated pork served over a pile of shredded cabbage, along with rice, miso soup and a pickled vegetable, all for about $5.25, including tax (you don't tip in Japan). It's really yummy!

The picture above shows the new menu that came out recently. That gives you an idea of what the restaurant is like. Judging by the cover, it's actually almost unbelievable that the restaurant is Japanese! And the new menu has far more English than the old one. "Grand Menu"? And pictures of pizza, beef, and a hot dog? What's going on here?

To be continued...

Rice, rice, and more rice!

I'm sure you know that the Japanese eat a lot of rice. And before coming here, I knew I would be eating a lot of rice. But I didn't realize just how much rice the Japanese eat. Take a look at this dormitory cafeteria meal plan for October and you'll be able to see for yourself. I've highlighted the gohan, i.e., rice, in pink. On 20 of the 31 days in October, rice is served for breakfast, lunch, and dinner! Holy cow!

I generally only eat in the cafeteria for lunch. (I have only had dinner there once and have yet to have breakfast there.) So it's not like I'm eating rice as often as the locals. But get this: We just bought a bag of rice for the first time in Japan the other day (5 kg for about 1980 yen). So now we have started having rice for dinner at home. I can't imagine having rice for breakfast as well, but maybe that's next.

Oh, and in case you're wondering what we have for breakfast, well, we eat stuff that we usually eat in the States, such as: various types of rolls/bread, eggs, granola, and fruit.

Of course, the Japanese eat "sticky" rice, which makes it easy to eat with chopsticks. And at lunch I've noticed that most kids (and staff members) eat every last grain of their rice! So I do my best to do so as well. In the States, people might look at you funny if you were to pick your bowl of rice clean. But over here, it's quite OK to concentrate intently so that you can get those last few grains, one by one, between the tips of your chopsticks and into your mouth.

As a matter of fact, I've noticed that most of the kids and staff members who eat in the dormitory cafeteria finish just about every last bite of all their food, not just their rice. I think I was pretty good about doing that before I came here, but now I guess I try even harder to not waste any food. Have a look for yourself at this "after" picture. Not bad, eh?

On another note: Look closely and you'll see a tiny straw for the milk (which is also served each and every day for lunch and almost every day for dinner!). I never use the straw, but I'm one of the only ones who doesn't. I think the straw is pure waste. I used to think that the Japanese had a problem with touching the milk carton directly with their mouths and therefore insisted on using the straws. But they drink from plenty of other containers without using straws. Hmmm? I smell a topic for another blog...

How do you say "I'll be back" in Japanese?

This is a picture of typical "o-miyage" that you can find all over Japan. "O-miyage" is what you give to your colleagues when you return to work from a vacation or business trip or whatever. Buying a box of o-miyage usually means that you are buying a box of some sort of individually wrapped cookie or tiny cake. Whenever you return to work, you simply put the box in the designated area and let your colleagues dig in as they please. And since in Japan teachers constantly go out of town on business or whatever, nary a week goes by when there isn't at least one box of o-miyage. And since the idea is to bring back a product that is typical for the area you visited, you get to try all sorts of different goodies, depending on where people went. I've already had rather delicious junk food from Okinawa, Osaka, and Fukuoka, for instance.

What's funny about the o-miyage pictured here is that they all have a picture of "Chigi-san" on them. Chigi-san is the Arnold Schwarzenegger of Miyazaki prefecture. I don't know too much about the guy, except that he used to be a comedian on TV. And now he's the head of the prefecture! From what I understand, since he's taken over (early this year?), he's been doing one hell of a marketing job. Miyazaki is growing and growing in popularity, and people flock from all over Japan to Miyazaki to catch a glimpse of "Chigi-san." His caricature is is plastered on everything in these parts from the o-miyage pictured above (some of the cookies even have his likeness stamped on them!) to key chains, fans, and even piggy banks. Believe me, he's popular! And like I said, he's trying his darndest to popularize Miyazaki products, one of which is the mango.

He even welcomed us at our orientation a few weeks ago in Miyazaki city. As we waited quietly in this nice room in one of the prefectural administration buildings for him to appear, we suddenly heard a bunch of shrieks. Obviously, the man was on his way. He arrived seconds later and promptly proceeded to give his speech. He started off in English but eventually switched to Japanese. And before we knew it, he was gone (to more shrieks from the public waiting patiently out in the hallway).

In any case, when it was time for our lunch break, we, too left the room, just as Chigi-san had. And what do you know? There were about 100 people lined up on both sides of the grand stairway, cameras in hand, patiently waiting for Chigi-san, obviously. Well, thinking fast, I decided to put on a little show for the crowd. I pretended they were all waiting for me so I started waiving to them all. And then I pretended for a few seconds to give a speech, yelling out a few quick thank-yous, waving some more, and posing for pictures. The crowd seemed to like it, believe it or not. Then I went on down the stairs, waving some more, saying "Hi" and "Thank you" and whatnot and shaking some hands here and there. I felt a little ridiculous but still tried to enjoy the moment that really wasn't mine!