Horrific images coming in on the TV right now about a terrible accident that happened this morning not too far away from here. A Japan Railways train jumped its tracks and smashed into an apartment building. According to what the newscaster on FNN just said, there are 50 confirmed dead and over 400 others injured. This is the worst train accident in Japan since the horrible head-on collision of trains over a decade ago on the Shigaraki line (not too far from my old home in Koka) in which 42 people died.
Trains here in Japan are such an integral part of everyday life for most folks. They are famously punctual...and safe, which is why this accident is all the more shocking.
My prayers go out to all of those involved in the accident and their families.
Monday, April 25, 2005
Thursday, April 21, 2005
Japan (Kobe) - Into the Secret World of an All Women's College
Today, Prof. W took me along with him to his classes at Konan Women's College.
Driving into the campus of Konan in the morning, we passed by several young men standing outside of the entrance gates, handing out fliers for something. There they were, at the gates, but they could go no further. Prof. W was my ticket to going where those young men could not -- through the gates, past the guards and into the glorious, magical, estrogen filled wonderland that lay beyond.
I was the special guest of the day for two English language classes. After briefing his students and giving them some time to come up with some questions, Prof. W brought me in from the waiting area to be interviewed by the students.
From my understanding, Konan had traditionally been a finishing school of sorts for turning out pretty and cultured young ladies...or as I have heard it put more disparagingly, "trophy wives." However, I would imagine that with the gradual growth of career opportunities for women in Japan and the prolongued economic slump, the "trophy wife" path is not as desirable or even viable as it once was, so perhaps such is no longer the case.
Anyway, I walked into this classroom of about 30 young women, all dressed very fashionably and all with their make-up "just so." I had to fight down my urge to be bashful and stare down at the floor.
The questions were basic but it was a good time. Each student asked me a question and then I would ask one in return:
"What's your name?" "Where are you from?"
"What do you do?" "What are you interested in?" "What are your dreams?" "What sports do you like?"
"Do you have a girlfriend? I'm single."
"What kind of girl do you go for?"
My favorite part of the class came when a young woman asked me, "How old are you?"
"How old do you think I am?" I shot back.
Various guesses were made: "21?" "22?" "23?" "25?"
"What's the answer, Tatsu? Tell them," said Prof. W.
When I told them the answer, the whole classroom let out a collective "Heeeeeee!!" of surprise. Several young women commented, "You don't look it at all!"
Fully aware of the fact that these young ladies were no doubt skillfully massaging my almost middle-aged man ego, I still couldn't help but let a big dopey grin wash over my face. More. More! Please!
Yes, yes, this guy, in the twilight of his youthful 20's, had a wonderful time indeed being the center of all this attention. And it only got better.
Prof. W took me over to the dining hall for lunch.
For any of you guys out there wondering what paradise looks like, I can now say to you, "I've been there."
Women. Pretty young women. A whole ocean of pretty young women. Three floors worth.
I swear to gawd, there were harps playing somewhere.
Driving into the campus of Konan in the morning, we passed by several young men standing outside of the entrance gates, handing out fliers for something. There they were, at the gates, but they could go no further. Prof. W was my ticket to going where those young men could not -- through the gates, past the guards and into the glorious, magical, estrogen filled wonderland that lay beyond.
I was the special guest of the day for two English language classes. After briefing his students and giving them some time to come up with some questions, Prof. W brought me in from the waiting area to be interviewed by the students.
From my understanding, Konan had traditionally been a finishing school of sorts for turning out pretty and cultured young ladies...or as I have heard it put more disparagingly, "trophy wives." However, I would imagine that with the gradual growth of career opportunities for women in Japan and the prolongued economic slump, the "trophy wife" path is not as desirable or even viable as it once was, so perhaps such is no longer the case.
Anyway, I walked into this classroom of about 30 young women, all dressed very fashionably and all with their make-up "just so." I had to fight down my urge to be bashful and stare down at the floor.
The questions were basic but it was a good time. Each student asked me a question and then I would ask one in return:
"What's your name?" "Where are you from?"
"What do you do?" "What are you interested in?" "What are your dreams?" "What sports do you like?"
"Do you have a girlfriend? I'm single."
"What kind of girl do you go for?"
My favorite part of the class came when a young woman asked me, "How old are you?"
"How old do you think I am?" I shot back.
Various guesses were made: "21?" "22?" "23?" "25?"
"What's the answer, Tatsu? Tell them," said Prof. W.
When I told them the answer, the whole classroom let out a collective "Heeeeeee!!" of surprise. Several young women commented, "You don't look it at all!"
Fully aware of the fact that these young ladies were no doubt skillfully massaging my almost middle-aged man ego, I still couldn't help but let a big dopey grin wash over my face. More. More! Please!
Yes, yes, this guy, in the twilight of his youthful 20's, had a wonderful time indeed being the center of all this attention. And it only got better.
Prof. W took me over to the dining hall for lunch.
For any of you guys out there wondering what paradise looks like, I can now say to you, "I've been there."
Women. Pretty young women. A whole ocean of pretty young women. Three floors worth.
I swear to gawd, there were harps playing somewhere.
Friday, April 15, 2005
JAPAN (Kobe) - Cherry Blossoms, Mountain Shrine and Wild Boars
Shortly after arriving here in Kobe and unloading my stuff, Prof. W took me hiking up to the top of a mountain overlooking the city. The path leading up was lined in the soft pink and greens of cherry blossom trees heading towards the end of their short-lived blooming period.
Hokura Shrine, which sits atop the mountain, is surrounded by an array of ancient trees. According to Prof. W, this collection of trees provides a glimpse of the way Japan's forests used to look before the trees that grew naturally in Japan were replaced by the endless homogeneity of the man-made cedar forests which cover most of the landscape today.
Standing beneath the trees, looking up at their tangle of branches and curiously shaped trunks that contrast so starkly with the uniform straightness of cedar forests, I could feel something, a power emanating from these trees. The idea of kamisama, nature deities, made sense in the presence of these trees.
We stopped to pay respects at the shrine
(check out them bow legs, partner. Yeehah)
After passing the shrine, we continued a bit further upward, turning back only after it started to become dark. As we passed the shrine on the way back down the mountain, the sound of something being rooted up came from somewhere within the trees.
"Inoshishi," said Prof. W.
Wild boars.
The two of us became quiet as the rustling sounds drew nearer.
Out of the blackness of the woods came one, then two, then three, four, five inoshishi. A family. It was surreal. I felt like I was in the opening scene of "Princess Mononoke."
The boars wandered by less than a few meters in front of us. Unimpressed by our presence, they continued on their way looking for their evening dinner. And then they were gone.
We continued on our way back down the mountain. I took this shot of a cherry tree and the night lights of Kobe down below.
Hokura Shrine, which sits atop the mountain, is surrounded by an array of ancient trees. According to Prof. W, this collection of trees provides a glimpse of the way Japan's forests used to look before the trees that grew naturally in Japan were replaced by the endless homogeneity of the man-made cedar forests which cover most of the landscape today.
Standing beneath the trees, looking up at their tangle of branches and curiously shaped trunks that contrast so starkly with the uniform straightness of cedar forests, I could feel something, a power emanating from these trees. The idea of kamisama, nature deities, made sense in the presence of these trees.
We stopped to pay respects at the shrine
(check out them bow legs, partner. Yeehah)
After passing the shrine, we continued a bit further upward, turning back only after it started to become dark. As we passed the shrine on the way back down the mountain, the sound of something being rooted up came from somewhere within the trees.
"Inoshishi," said Prof. W.
Wild boars.
The two of us became quiet as the rustling sounds drew nearer.
Out of the blackness of the woods came one, then two, then three, four, five inoshishi. A family. It was surreal. I felt like I was in the opening scene of "Princess Mononoke."
The boars wandered by less than a few meters in front of us. Unimpressed by our presence, they continued on their way looking for their evening dinner. And then they were gone.
We continued on our way back down the mountain. I took this shot of a cherry tree and the night lights of Kobe down below.
JAPAN (Kobe) - Everything I Own
I finally managed to make the move down to Prof. W's place down here in Kobe, where I'll be staying until I finish putting together my final preparations to launch out from Japan.
Pictured here is the sum total of pretty much everything I own in the world after a month of leisurely packing in March and then a frenzied last minute culling of possessions and paperwork (in which I actually accomplished the most work) over the past couple of weeks in my virtual family's home in Omihachiman. Two of these boxes are actually filled with letters and handmade gifts from my students that I still have yet to go through.
Note the industrial sized bottle of Listerine -- just because I'm homeless don't mean it be okay for my breath to be stankin'.
Japan (Omihachiman) - Ancient Fire Festival and Last night in Shiga
Every year on April 14th, the shrine at the bottom of Hachiman Mountain here in Omihachiman is host to an ancient fire festival with a history stretching back over 1300 years. It is one of the largest of its kind. Giant taimatsu, columns of bamboo and reeds from the surrounding areas, are built/carried to Himurei Hachiman Shrine and then set ablaze.
It is truly amazing to experience first hand - the massive pillars of fire stretching into the night sky; the men clad in traditional hapi coats (some of them quite drunk off of sake) bearing torches and giant taiko drums mounted on palanquins. The beats from the drum saturate the smoke and fire filled darkness, and you not only hear it, you feel it, deep down in the seat of your belly.
Smoke, fire, darkness, drums. It doesn't get much more primal than this.
Despite having lived here in Omihachiman for two years and then living not too far away for the last three, this was my first time to check out the festival. What a wonderful way to say to goodbye to Omihachiman.
It is truly amazing to experience first hand - the massive pillars of fire stretching into the night sky; the men clad in traditional hapi coats (some of them quite drunk off of sake) bearing torches and giant taiko drums mounted on palanquins. The beats from the drum saturate the smoke and fire filled darkness, and you not only hear it, you feel it, deep down in the seat of your belly.
Smoke, fire, darkness, drums. It doesn't get much more primal than this.
Despite having lived here in Omihachiman for two years and then living not too far away for the last three, this was my first time to check out the festival. What a wonderful way to say to goodbye to Omihachiman.
Monday, April 11, 2005
Japan - Fresh Back From India
I have spent the past few days here in Omihachiman chillin' at my brother-from-another-mother's house. His family has been kind enough to take me in and allow me to turn their home into a disaster area as I continue to try to go through papers and possessions to reduce what I have to as little as possible. It's amazing how much junk you can accumulate in 6 years.
It has been great being able to spend time with Nori. He just came back this past month from 9 months on the road, six of which he spent traveling through India. In my eyes he came back from the trip a changed man...but not so much changed as more himself than he was before.
Monday, April 04, 2005
JAPAN (Koka) - Hit the Road
10:37am. My successor is somewhere over the Pacific Ocean right now, enroute for Kansai International Airport. Bless him for choosing to live here in the apartment that I've occupied for the past three years. His choice afforded me 4 extra days to finish up my packing (and even still, it's all very down to the wire). So I guess Dean Lieber was wrong - there are extensions in the real world after all.
No good is going to come of the fact that I now have this knowledge.
Anyway, it's time to unhook this here computer and sell it off in Kusatsu. And it's time to begin my life on the road.
...
...might also be a good time to get my boxes the hell out of this apartment.
Shuppaaaaatsu.
No good is going to come of the fact that I now have this knowledge.
Anyway, it's time to unhook this here computer and sell it off in Kusatsu. And it's time to begin my life on the road.
...
...might also be a good time to get my boxes the hell out of this apartment.
Shuppaaaaatsu.
Friday, April 01, 2005
JAPAN (Koka) - From Teacher to Puutaro
Last night, I went to bed as a gainfully employed, upstanding member of this mid-sized city, respected for my teaching abilities and talent for making a fool of myself in front of large audiences. And then I woke up this morning. Unemployed. Soon to be without a place to call to my own. Awwwww yeah.
In Japan, lazy good for nothings without a job (like myself) are referred to as puutaro. At the moment, I am quite pleased to have acquired this title.
I got up this morning around 5:30 (I fell asleep last night when I should have stayed up packing), took a shower, brushed my teeth, threw on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt and wrapped a white towel on my head to get down to work.
Jeans and a sweatshirt on a weekday. It felt good. After 6 years of having to wear a suit and tie everyday for work, it feels so liberating to know that neither my suits nor ties shall see the light of day for the foreseeable future. Of course, somewhere inside, the flaming metrosexual part of me is weeping inconsolably at this development.
The town hired a cleaning service guy to come to my apartment today to give my kitchen, room with the bath and room with the toilet (in most Japanese homes, the toilet and the bath are in completely separate rooms, which, when you stop to think about it, makes a lot of sense hygiene-wise) a thorough professional going over. This meant that I had to at least get everything in those areas packed up and ready to go. Nothing like a deadline to make a bum like me move.
Shortly before 9, my doorbell rang. "Crap, I didn't get everything done in time, " I thought to myself as I opened the door. But instead of the cleaning guy standing there, it was Ms. F, a teacher from one of the elementary schools I used to visit on a regular basis.
Ms. F lives in a house on the opposite side of the rice paddy that is right outside of my window so we both are constantly aware of each other's coming and goings-- yet despite living this close for the past three years, we haven't really had many lengthy conversations. I do know, however, that she is a really cool lady. She has a son about my age who does quite a bit of traveling himself and she often talks about wanting to do the same.
Anyway, it turns out that Ms. F had stopped by on her way into work.
"I just wanted to wish you good luck on your trip," she said.
"Thank you so much," I replied, smiling at this pleasant surprise.
Ms. F continued: "I wish I could go to India with you to do volunteer work, too... but in my stead, please take this..." and with that, Ms. F pulled an envelope out of her bag and stuffed it in to my hands. "I hope this helps you on your journey."
"Ms. F, I can't take th...," I started.
"Take it. This is my 'volunteer' work," she said as she pressed the envelope into my palm, "Take care of yourself. I have to get to work." All I could do was bow and thank her.
It's night-time now and I'm about to take off for another farewell party, but I just opened the envelope and was surprised to find a very large amount of money in the envelope. I tried to call her to tell her it's too much, but there was no answer. But then again, she's not going to take it back, is she? I should just take it, thank her properly and give it to the people at LAFTI when I get there. But...still... what do you do?
Over these past few months, the generosity of my colleagues, students and the people of this community in general has been overwhelming. Between the response to the news of my apartment being burglarized in January and the news of my decision to leave my job and embark on this tour through Asia, I have received in monetary gifts alone something exceeding what I had normally earned in a month.
And then the steady stream of farewell parties - ranging from intimate affairs of close colleagues taking me out to dinner up to the huge one last week that lasted from 11 in the morning until 5 that afternoon and had, I was told today, over 100 people in attendance. The fourth graders at one of the schools I visit decided to get in on the act too and gave up their recess time for a week to plan and prepare their own farewell party for me complete with games, gifts and letters from all of them and big send-off tunnel of arms finale. Many of my other students also wrote letters and gave me gifts such as small handmade dolls and other omamori (good luck charms) to protect me on my journey.
What does a person do in the face of such generosity? I am truly blessed to have spent the past three years of my life becoming a part of this community.
Wow, I've wandered pretty far off of topic...but I've got another farewell party to get to now, so I'll have to wrap here and write about the joys of my new puutaro life later.
In Japan, lazy good for nothings without a job (like myself) are referred to as puutaro. At the moment, I am quite pleased to have acquired this title.
I got up this morning around 5:30 (I fell asleep last night when I should have stayed up packing), took a shower, brushed my teeth, threw on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt and wrapped a white towel on my head to get down to work.
Jeans and a sweatshirt on a weekday. It felt good. After 6 years of having to wear a suit and tie everyday for work, it feels so liberating to know that neither my suits nor ties shall see the light of day for the foreseeable future. Of course, somewhere inside, the flaming metrosexual part of me is weeping inconsolably at this development.
The town hired a cleaning service guy to come to my apartment today to give my kitchen, room with the bath and room with the toilet (in most Japanese homes, the toilet and the bath are in completely separate rooms, which, when you stop to think about it, makes a lot of sense hygiene-wise) a thorough professional going over. This meant that I had to at least get everything in those areas packed up and ready to go. Nothing like a deadline to make a bum like me move.
Shortly before 9, my doorbell rang. "Crap, I didn't get everything done in time, " I thought to myself as I opened the door. But instead of the cleaning guy standing there, it was Ms. F, a teacher from one of the elementary schools I used to visit on a regular basis.
Ms. F lives in a house on the opposite side of the rice paddy that is right outside of my window so we both are constantly aware of each other's coming and goings-- yet despite living this close for the past three years, we haven't really had many lengthy conversations. I do know, however, that she is a really cool lady. She has a son about my age who does quite a bit of traveling himself and she often talks about wanting to do the same.
Anyway, it turns out that Ms. F had stopped by on her way into work.
"I just wanted to wish you good luck on your trip," she said.
"Thank you so much," I replied, smiling at this pleasant surprise.
Ms. F continued: "I wish I could go to India with you to do volunteer work, too... but in my stead, please take this..." and with that, Ms. F pulled an envelope out of her bag and stuffed it in to my hands. "I hope this helps you on your journey."
"Ms. F, I can't take th...," I started.
"Take it. This is my 'volunteer' work," she said as she pressed the envelope into my palm, "Take care of yourself. I have to get to work." All I could do was bow and thank her.
It's night-time now and I'm about to take off for another farewell party, but I just opened the envelope and was surprised to find a very large amount of money in the envelope. I tried to call her to tell her it's too much, but there was no answer. But then again, she's not going to take it back, is she? I should just take it, thank her properly and give it to the people at LAFTI when I get there. But...still... what do you do?
Over these past few months, the generosity of my colleagues, students and the people of this community in general has been overwhelming. Between the response to the news of my apartment being burglarized in January and the news of my decision to leave my job and embark on this tour through Asia, I have received in monetary gifts alone something exceeding what I had normally earned in a month.
And then the steady stream of farewell parties - ranging from intimate affairs of close colleagues taking me out to dinner up to the huge one last week that lasted from 11 in the morning until 5 that afternoon and had, I was told today, over 100 people in attendance. The fourth graders at one of the schools I visit decided to get in on the act too and gave up their recess time for a week to plan and prepare their own farewell party for me complete with games, gifts and letters from all of them and big send-off tunnel of arms finale. Many of my other students also wrote letters and gave me gifts such as small handmade dolls and other omamori (good luck charms) to protect me on my journey.
What does a person do in the face of such generosity? I am truly blessed to have spent the past three years of my life becoming a part of this community.
Wow, I've wandered pretty far off of topic...but I've got another farewell party to get to now, so I'll have to wrap here and write about the joys of my new puutaro life later.
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