October Hodgepodge

Things I did during 十月

I always liked the fall. In New York, it was definitely my favorite season. Summer is hot as hell. Without mountains, winter in New York means piles of brown snow and a crappy commute, and I believe that spring is German for "raging sinus infection" (stemming from the root word "Schpringhousen") Of course, I would only make two arboreal metaphors in one sentence to underline exactly what comes to mind when we think of fall. Leaf death.

Of course, its not all that bad. Unlike any other creature when leaves die, they look nice, and that's what we look forward to in New York. Since other seasons are extreme or make us sneeze, we like the fall because its comfortable and pretty.

Well, in Japan, its a different story. Here, in a land surrounded by mountains, and close to a beach with decent surf, we are constantly counting the days until the winter or summer. Spring still sucks, I think that is a constant everywhere in the world. Fall is still really nice, but there is simply not much to do. So, you end up with this... an October hodgepodge. Strange random outings every week to fill the void that exists before the start of the snowboarding season.

It should be known, the habit of marking days until the Snowboarding season is not restricted to the Nakano Boys. Our hodgepodge begins with a camping trip in Keiso where a slope and a rail were covered in foam to allow a few boarders and skiers to hold a rail jam. First weekend of October, still far too warm for manmade snow, these guys were snowboarding on a layer of foam continuously sprayed with water to keep it slick. Then, they would pop up onto a rail and ride it without any white fluffy snow below them to break their fall, only dying autumn grass. Of course, it is also not easy to stop without the snow, so after the rail, most of the boarders slammed into the wall opposite the rail. Crazy. After the rail jam, a few bands played, a few teams of breakers broke, (including one guy who held a head spin for like 40 seconds then six stepped right out of it without any signs of dizziness.) While the stage was being used, another dude graffed a huge mural background. As it was an all night event, B and I broke out the ol camping gear and set up.


It should be known that the tent that we inherited from Rita was not a tiny little two man tent, but a Captain Stag 5 man tent. No fools were we, rather than roughing it with sleeping bags, we bought futons and proper bedding which easily fit inside. We also set up a decent patio from which we could overlook the festivities.




Nextly, we had School Festival. I wrote about this last year, so no need to go into it all again, or post pics again. I got the same "(insert non-Japanese invented activity or food here) was invented in Japan" rhetoric. We played the same games. I don't mean to underplay how impressive these festivals are. The students do all the work. I mean everything from start to finish. Staff are there to offer support and help the kids where they need it, but that's it. It is a really good project. The kids also did well. My 3rd years this year are a good bunch of kids. Some are a little too serious for their age.

After the festival, we had a school enkai. These are also fun, but the real fun was afterwards when the karaoke ensued.

I gotta pause for a second to preface with an introduction. This is Shimada-sensei.
You remember Junior High School? Remember all those teachers that yelled at you for not having a shirt tucked in, or falling asleep in class? Do you remember that one teacher that was always smiling, that treated you like a human rather than a little kid? You never fell asleep in his or her class because it was actually interesting. He never punished you for breaking silly arbitrary rules. Not a chump that everyone walked all over, but the kind of teacher you listened to because you liked and respected him. That is Shimada-sensei. In a country where the line between authority figures and students is very clearly drawn, Shimada-sensei brings a sort of energy and informality that is uncharacteristic of Japanese schools (in my experience at least.) More personally, in a culture where people are afraid to talk to me for fear that their English is not perfect, or they will be unable to understand my often strained Japanese, Shimada-sensei, despite having poor English, despite my lack of Japanese skills comes and chats with me every day.

About one year ago, Shimada-sensei was diagnosed with a sort of blood cancer (I am pretty sure leukemia, but I don't know, the medical terminology is different here.) Last October, he took a leave of absence (he is the Japanese sensei.) For a year, we had a slew of subs and temps try to fill his shoes. This September, he returned, a bit thinner, but with even more energy and a bigger smile than before. He is my closest friend among the teachers (if you look at the picture above you'll notice the Livestrong bracelet that I got him and the one I now wear.) Anyway, Shimada-sensei rocks.
Ok, back to the School Festival. So after the enkai, Shimada-sensei and I organized a few teachers for some karaoke. Enkais are fun, but still somewhat organized and formal. We needed to let loose.

Five hours folks... We karaoked for five hours, from 9pm to 2am. Look at the other senseis (who also did well, mind you). They can barely keep their eyes open. Look at Shimada-sensei (pimped out in a crushed velvet shirt, by the way)

This dude who gets his blood tested almost once a week jammed like it was his job. If you don't think Shimada-sensei rocks, I will fight you... That's no lie.

The following week, I was feeling a bit burned out by lunchtime on Thursday, so I took the rest of the day off and met up with Kaori. After a long time of wanting to do so, we visited the Garu-koen zoo in Suzaka.



















Ok, so the zoo was filled with the saddest bunch of animals since the zoo in Naples Florida. The kangaroo is named Hutch and is famous throughout Japan (they clam to have invented kangaroos, actually all marsupials are of Japanese design...Figures, built in womb pouch is pretty efficient.)

That weekend, I went to the top of Shiga-kogan with B and Ayako. We drove up taking pictures, took the chair lift to the summit and hiked down.




It was really pretty. Here are some pics, but there are many more on the Flickr site. Perhaps the coolest was at the summit where we were above the clouds and watched the sun set into the clouds below us. Trippy, but cool as hell.






The big winner of the day was Brooklyn. That little guy hiked all day and was always a few steps ahead of us. What a cool dog. He slept for the next 3 days.






Of course October has to end with Halloween. This years Halloween party had its ups and downs. We hold the party every year for the members of our adult conversation class. This year, the people who came got really into it with their costumes (most of which were homemade.) We had some large pumpkins donated to us which was also cool. On the downside, many people did not show up which was frustrating especially because the only reason they did not show was our requirement that everyone MUST be in costume.

This frustrated all of us mainly because there is this crazy notion that we teachers have the job to teach about our culture along with our language. Of course, we embrace this and love talking about our culture. If you mention October to anyone in America or Canada, the obvious response would be "Halloween" and when you think Halloween, you think costumes. Every day, we immerse ourselves in Japanese culture, eating any food put in front of us, and being expected to participate in any cultural activity or festival. Of course I am not complaining, its why I came here. Our problem is that the people who take this class expect for us to do things like the Halloween party. If we didn't do it, people would be disappointed. So we drop a bunch of money, and put in a lot of effort to make it happen. We decorate the room, schlep pumpkins around, make costumes - for so many people to not show up because they don't want to put in the effort of making or finding a costume makes me sad.

Anyway, that being said, here are some pictures from this year. Since Devin is in China, Joycie, my deputy assistant filled in as the official Devin for the evening. We even told everyone that she is really Devin dressed up as a Guamish girl dressed up as a 50's schoolgirl. That confused people more than they normally are.
Brandon got a bunch of ski apparel from the 70's and was "Ski-patrol" Stokes was and is a Canuck. I made that Batman costume.

This is my humble class from Toyota Mura. The "Beauty and the Beast" costumes (back left) won the costume contest. Both costumes, were entirely handmade (including Beauty's dress) by Hanako (dressed as Beast.)


A blast from the past. I lent Yuriko my Superman costume from last year and she turned it into a Supergirl costume. Here in this photo I show my posing diversity.


...and that's all. Some of you may be saying "last post Rich said he would talk about his kendo tournament and speak about kendo, but he didn't..."

Life is cruel and unfair. You should get used to disappointment.

-R

Why do you build me up, buttercup?

I have found that each and every time I end a post with something along the lines of "I will be posting soon" some cosmic forces conspire to inhibit me from posting for months. As such, I will refrain from promising more updates and will just update when I am good and ready. Maybe that will be every day, maybe it will be never. Either way it is more than you filthy sinners deserve.

I don't want to steal Gnorm's Gthunder, so I am going to refrain from going into too much detail about his stay here. Gnorm's travelblog will, no doubt, go into great detail on what we did and what we saw. He may not go into so much detail regarding out battle with Moss the Interrupter, who aimed to kidnap the Very Important Moss (Like VIP).




Although we emerged victorious, the battle left us both quite scarred, but I suppose that's what happens when you choose the life of a scientist.

















I will, however talk about one things: Old Balls.

In the immortalized words (or at least immortalized as soon as I post them in my blog) of S.C. Holohan, 20th century philosopher and creator of the config.sys: "Onsens are awesome."

An onsen is a Japanese public bath house built upon a natural hotspring. Since Japan is situated right on the Ring.... The Ring of Firrrrre (you know, the one that burns burns burns.... Do you realize that there are like 6 lyrics in that whole song? Johnny Cash could enter a recording studio and mutter just about anything drunk and it would still make it in the jukebox of the Patriot.)

Huh? What tangent?? Oh yea... So Japan is located right on the Ring of Fire and as such there are natural hotsprings all over the place. These not only shoot out boiling hot water, but with the water comes a bunch of minerals and salts from inside the Earth that beat the hell outta any jojoba bubble bath or bath salts that the Body Shop may be peddling. These bath houses are also designed to be the most relaxing places in the world, and they are. I wish I had pictures, but naturally you can't bring cameras into them.

Upon entering, the fine establishment, you typically pass by some sort of eatery. Bath houses are a popular place to spend the whole day with the family or with people from work, so they all pride themselves on their food as well. The one near my house is well known for their zaru-soba. Cold buckwheat noodles made on premises that are served with a light soy based sauce, wasabi, and scallions. That and some tea or beers and the relaxation beginnith.

Once you eat (or decide not to as the case may be), you work your way to the bath. Men and women each bathe in separate areas. You first enter a locker room where you disrobe, donning no more than a small towel about the size of a dish towel. The more shy individual may opt to select which body part they wish to cover with this towel, but on average the towel is proudly slung over the shoulder or around the neck. There is no modesty in an onsen... Just old balls.

Next, you wash. In order to keep one's filth outside the bath, each person scrubs and shampoos in a private sitting shower prior to entering the bath. That small towel you brought in with you is used here. After making sure that you are clean enough, as well as ensuring that you have no lingering suds on your person, time to enjoy the bath.

Now at the very least, an onsen has one bath. That number, along with the size and complexity of the bath increases along with the extravagance of the onsen. The onsen near me offers three separate baths, a waterfall (to sit under as the hot mineral water massages your back), and a dry sauna. Among the three baths, there is one indoor bath, usually the hottest one, only tolerable for short periods at a time. There is an outdoor bath that is typically surrounded by rocks and some sort of tranquil garden atmosphere, and overlooks a breathtaking mountain view. Finally, there is the cold plunge, a bath filled with freezing cold water which is especially refreshing after the sauna or when the heat of the other baths or the steam gets to be too much. As I am quite prone to overheating, I enjoy the cold plunge, though many people aren't fans. While in the bath, it is customary to put your wash towel on your head (it is cool at this point) or on the side of the bath, but never in the water. Apart from this, the order and which baths you decide to avail yourself of is entirely up to you.
Now, imagine if you will (Sean, Jen and Drew don't have to imagine too hard) a freezing cold Nagano day. There is like 50 feet of snow on the ground, a day of skiing or boarding on the mountains have left you frozen and achy. At the end of such a day, you shed off the several layers of ski clothes, and after washing up, you slip into the outdoor bath. There is snow on the ground surrounding you, but you are sitting in a bath of volcanic mineral water while breathing in the cool winter air and looking out over the snow covered valley as the sun sets. Whenever anyone asks me what part of Japan I will miss the most, I never hesitate before answering emphatically onsen.

After sufficient relaxation, you return to the shower. While the minerals and salts in the water are nice to bathe in, once they dry on your skin they are less than pleasant. After returning to the locker room, drying off and getting dressed, I usually get a bottle of milk. Most onsens sell milk in glass bottles that is uncannily the most refreshing thing you could drink after leaving the onsen. It is not ordinary milk. It's thick, like buttermilk. Between the onsen and the heavy milk, your body and your muscles are rendered to a state of gelatin. All that is left is to return home, slip under the kotatsu (a low table with a heater under it and a blanket draped over) and pass out in front of re-runs of the West Wing. Well, that's what my buddy Brandon and I do in the winter at least.

Of course, I don't want to glamorize the whole thing. Besides you being naked, there are a bunch of other naked guys, most of whom are old men, frolicking around. The trick is, of course, to enjoy the onsen while managing to ignore the old balls surrounding you. Make eye contact for just one second with old balls and you will spend the rest of your onsen experience trying to purge the image while wondering if your scrotum will also someday resemble a wrinkled paper bag filled with cottage cheese hanging down to your knees. I have been told that women have the same experiences with seeing old boobs in the onsen.

Naturally, if you are a foreigner, you must do this while simultaneously enduring the stares of these old men as they look at you. Being a hairy creature with tattoos on my back (which are still somewhat taboo here,) I am often stared at. My first time at an onsen, back when I was visiting Japan a few years ago, I had Jane's supervisor stop and complement my "muki muki macho body." Of course, coming from a country where two straight naked men in a bath would never say such a thing (or reasonably be taking a bath together for that matter), I was mildly caught off guard. I have since become used to the occasional stare. Again, some of my larger chested female friends have stated similar experiences. In a country where a healthy perky B cup is roughly the equivalent of Dolly Parton, women may stop and look at the giant mounds of flesh that in America are considered an average to small cup size.

You're still thinking about the old balls, aren't you Drew?

Ok, next time (whenever that may be) I will talk about Kendo and hopefully be able to show pictures and share good news about this Sunday's tournament.

Momotaro

Peach-boy Peach-boy

Joycie said that this story is something I should post to my blog, so here I am doing exactly that.

First off, an apology. For all those people living in Japan whose schools or Board of Educations don't treat them right. I'm sorry.

This past week, the first week back from summer vacation, there have been no classes. For the past week, I have done little more than check email, read, play baseball with students and clean up the river with students. Down time like this is nice because it gives me a good chance to speand time with my kids and get to know them. The 3rd years are all around the same age as high school freshman in the US, so they get a kick out of having a teacher that is not too much older, plus they really like hearing about America and the different countries I've been to. I in turn like chatting with students that aren't quite kids.

Aside from the students, the faculty here really takes care of me. Take, for example, what happened to me last Tuesday.

Now you should know that it's hot here. It is really hot and we naturally don't have air conditioning in school. I have a tiny fan in front of my desk that keeps my skin from meltng off, but otherwise every shirt that I wear to work has to go in the hamper the second I get home. On a typical summer's day, I take no less than 4 or 5 freezing cold showers.

So, sitting in this heat, getting a little bored, I say "厚い！スイカ　たべたい!" Meaning, "It's hot!! I want to eat some watermelon."

I didn't really want a watermelon, not that I would have minded one, but the thing is along with wanting to practice my Japanese in school, if I speak Japanese every now and then, the few newer teachers who are afraid of me start to warm up a little bit.

At that moment, Kojima-sensai, who I teach with, jumps up and says "do you want a peach?" The peaches here, by the way, are really quite delicious, so of course I responded "sure."

We go into the teacher's lunch room and out of her lunchbag, she pulls out a peach that I can only assume was part of her lunch. She hands it to me.

"I can't take your peach. Really it's ok."

"Take the peach!"

"No, I was just saying I wanted watermelon because I wanted to say something in Japanese. That is your peach, you don't need to give it to me!"

(She extends her hand with the peach further) Please! "Take the peach! I would be happy to give you my peach!!"

So I take the peach, and she smiles. I go towards the sink to cut it.

"NO!"

"Huh? I thought you said I could have the preach..."

"Yes, but cut it in the front office. They have a knife there that is good for cutting peaches."

So, I take my peach and go to the front office. In the front office is Okubo-sensai at her desk, and Suizu-sensai, who is the groundskeeper Willy of the school. Okubo-sensai looks at my peach and smiles.

"You want to cut the peach?"

"Uh, yea"

Suizu-sensai jumps up.

"I'll cut it for you!"

Now, at this point, my brain is going "Wh... huh? whats??" and I stand there frozen while she grabs the peach, and proceeds to cut it with surgical precision. Really, I have never seen a peach so masterfully cut in my life. She hands me a plate with the glimmering orange fruit perfectly cut and placed on its surface. I just stand there and hold the plate.

"Um, thank you.... would, uh, would you like a piece?"

"No no no.... I will just eat this" and she holds up the peach pit, some chunks of fruit still stuck to it. She pops the pit into hr mouth.

"You know, I have a whole peach, and you cut it for me. You can have a real slice."

"The pit is good. Enjoy the peach!"

So now I am holding this ill-gotten peach, the culmination of absolutely NO effort on my part. At this point, I would feel like a good to just shovel the slices into my mouth, so I do the Japanese thing, put toothpicks in each slice, and walk around the teacher's room serving peach to everyone. At the end, I got to eat the last piece.

Moral of the story: a ninja can kill anyone without even blinking an eye... and thats a FACT.

Oh, and for all of you who enjoyed the New Zealand post and are waiting to be caught up, your time will come. I am planning on continuing with weekly, if not bi weekly posts from now on. I will, for the most part, pick up with more current stuff, but every so often when not much is going on I will write on some past event.

As ever,
-R

The Big New Zealand Wrapup
...so we can all get on with our lives.

Ok, for the sake of the ability to write about new things, I am going to wrap up the rest of the New Zealand trip in one megapost.

After the absailing and trekking through Abel Tasman, my partner in crime and I decided that we were due some relaxation time. Naturally, while most people choose to relax on a beach, we chose a deeper, less oxygenated locale.

Just off Tutukaka Beach is Poor Knight's Island, one of the most reputed dive spot in the world. Jacques Cousteau rated it as among the top ten in the world - and it didn't take long to figure out why.

Poor Knight's Island inhabits rare wildlife, among which are the weatas: giant armor-plated insects, huge land snails, poisonous centipedes over one foot long, hungry land crabs that invade the forest and drag young seabirds from the safety of their burrows. Oh, and of course the tuatara, a miniature dinosaur that has survived on these remote islands unchanged for millions of years. The Poor Knights, the world as it was before man walked the earth. (paraphrased from www.offthefence.com.)





This is where we chose to relax. Of course, the delicate ecosystem of the terrestrial parts of the islands are maintained by not letting people onto it, but the waters surrounding the islands are no less impressive. New Zealand does a lot to protect its spectacular nature, and in the case of Poor Knight's Island, they did the most good by declaring it a national park and protecting it as such. Boat traffic is limited to a certain amount of dive boats and research vessels. Fishing is prohibited without exception. Even something as seemingly innocuous as taking a seashell from the ocean floor is not allowed. What that leaves you with is a perfectly preserved marine environment to explore.

The first dive site we visited is known as 'the gentle forest' because of the kelp that covers the ocean floor. It is not an especially deep dive site (at deepest, it may have reached 15m) but thanks to the shelter the kelp provides, there is much marine life to be seen. Lord Howe coral fish, scorpion fish, nudibranchs, sea urchin, black angelfish, sandagers wrasse, and demoiselle are among the most abundant.














Prior to Jane's poor ears filling up with water and the subsequent infection that ensued, she too seemed to enjoy the gentle forest.

Between dives, we ate lunch in the shade of one of the caves in the area. The cave was an interesting phenomena in itself. The high curved ceiling allowed for perfect acoustics. In addition, the light color of the rocks reflected the sunlight that bounced off the water and at certain points of the day, the entire cave is illuminated in brilliant white light.














The second dive site was known as 'nursery cove.' Another shallow dive (17.5m) but as the name suggests, the site is teeming with juvenile wildlife. The site is at the base of a cliff of one of the islands, which provides shelter for many species including the ones at Gentle Forest along with gray spotted morey eels, pigfish, rays, and various species of parrotfish. At one end of the site is a series of caves and archways known as 'the labyrinth.'
































After our dives, we drove around for a while, exploring the beaches around Tutukaka. We ended up at the Pickled Parrot in Paihhia, a decent hostel (with free breakfast!) that was close to where we needed to be.

The next day, we decided to immerse ourselves in Maori culture. We went to Waitangi, the site where the English and the Maori signed the "treaty" to share the land of New Zealand. Of course, I am compelled to put the word treaty in quotes because I don't see "sign this paper or we'll kill you" to be much of an accord, but new Zealanders swear that it was a friendly agreement.

At the treaty grounds, we had the chance to see a traditional Haka, the ritual dance of the Maori. The Haka was used for a variety of reasons in Maori tribes, the most noteworthy being the War Haka which is meant to intimidate the hell out of anyone standing on the opposite side of a bunch of Maori warriors. Through a series of gestures including stomping, slapping various parts of the body, showing the whites of the eyes, the teeth, and brandishing the tongue, the war haka gets the basic principle of "we are going to kill you" in no uncertain terms. (This is of course unless the opposition vastly outnumbers the Maori with a gun carrying imperial army.)

After seeing the haka, we walked around the treaty grounds, and saw a reproduction of a ceremonial Maori canoe and the official tribal meeting house of the Maori where each Maori clan was represented by their own tiki god-looking carving.




























On the following day, our last full day in New Zealand, Jane and I decided to really take it easy (by conventional standards.) Given both of our interests in sailing (mine for the leisure of it, Jane more for the plundering and pirating aspect) we boarded the R. Tucker Thompson, a tall ship that is a perfect reproduction of a 19th century Halibut Schooner.


"The Tucker is built to sail. She is a gaff rigged, square tops'l schooner. Gaff rigged means that her mainsail has four sides; square tops'l refers to the two square topsails. Schooner, in this case, means that of her two masts, the forward mast is shorter than the aft. She was designed according to the traditions of a North American Halibut schooner by a transplanted Californian, R. Tucker Thompson." (www.tucker.co.nz).

Most notable were the ship's voyages in races, particularly around the world. With few amenities that were not available in the 19th century, the ship is indeed a proper sailboat.

Don't take that to mean we were roughing it. On the Thompson, we basked in the final sunny day in New Zealand and saw the Bay of Islands once more, this time in style. On the ship, the cook, Ms. Battersby prepared a veritable feast (although despite the somewhat pricy cost of sailing, I still had to dish out a few bucks to have a coke with my meal). Rounding out the crew was Captain Garth Bishop.
The Captain was an...interesting...fellow. At first his "Ahoy Matey, batten the hatches, stand fast and secure the ringers!" vernacular, along with his salty man of the sea appearance seemed like schtick to appeal to the patrons of the R. Tucker Thompson. Later, my opinion changed when he started firing his miniature cannon at passing ships. Only after surviving his "hardy har har, arrrrrgh" laugh after the ear piercing cannon blow did I realize that Captain Garth was either hitting the rum a bit hard, or he was a few ships short of a fleet.










We stopped at the island where Captain Jamess Cook first landed in the Bay of Islands. From the topmost point of the island, there was a truly impressive view of the cove.
















We explored a few of the lagoons before heading for the ship to enjoy that wonderful lunch I mentioned before. Of course, blatantly ignoring 24 years of my mother's admonition that I have to wait 30 minutes after eating to go into the water, Jane and I took a few plunges off the ship.






















Of course, nothing we did on this trip scared me more than when Jane decided to take the wheel for a while.



...And while the intention of the voyage was to enjoy a relaxing, non perilous time - we could not resist the chance to climb up the rigging and hang out on the bowsprit.





One final ferry ride from the docks to the mainland (complete with a rainbow and the final sunset we would enjoy in New Zealand, and we were back in our rental car on the way to Auckland.



















There, after meeting a thoroughly cool guy who stayed in the same "extreeeeeeeeeeeme hostel" (everything in NZ is "to the extreeeeeeeeeme" and our hostel during the final night in Auckland, with its neon lights and flashing strobes guiding you to your "intennnnnseee bunk bed" was no exception) - we grabbed a few beers. Shakespeare Tavern and Brewery in Auckland features such brews as "Falstaff's Real Ale," and "Willpower Stout" (pun intended) appealed to the English major in me, and the beers were damn tasty. Is there nothing that The Bard can't do?











As you could undoubtedly anticipate by now, after beer, we craved one final adventure, and found that in the reverse bungy jump right in middle of town. After a crane hoisted up the two bungy cords that our seats were attached to, we were released and shot way up over Auckland for the most exhilarating panoramic view of the city before plummeting back down and back up and down again a few times. Afterwards, with hearts pounding and adrenaline rushing, we made our way back to the hostel.














The trip back was a helluva lot more comfortable than the one out. While we had an overnight lay over in Hong Kong, the cushioned seats were a nice place to rest our weary heads. From start to finish, I truly enjoyed New Zealand, and despite my frequent jabs at her that may suggest otherwise, it would never have been nearly as much fun if not for the scurvy rat of a pirate that was at my side.













Good luck on the Peace Boat Jane... See you on the next adventure.