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...)