“You are always on my mind. All I do is count the days. Where are you now?”
Lately, I can really relate to those three lines of Alicia Keys's song “Distance and Time”. Though Miss Keys dedicates it to all the lovers separated by distance and time, I dedicate it to all my loved ones far away. I wish I could be in so many places at once, and with so many people at the same time. That's not necessarily a bad thing, but sometimes it distracts me from living in the present time, moment and place. All desires aside, the fact is that I cannot be everywhere at once. So instead of mourning the impossible, I write to connect with people and places. I write messages and emails to people at home, I write on this blog, and I write letters.
Some people have commented on how slow and old-fashioned snail mail is. I half agree with that statement; some letters I've sent have arrived in a week. And maybe they are a bit old-fashioned, but the handwritten letter has personality. My letters have personality: mine and yours. To begin with, choosing the perfect card and stationary takes time. I love it when I glance at a card display and know within seconds that a certain card belongs in the hands of a special person on my list. However, more often than not, I have a hard time choosing. There are just sooo many cards and stationary sets that could make someone on my list very happy. I wish I could buy them all, but for the sake of the trees, I don't. Well, not really.... I'd trade my post-it obsession for a card obsession if that were the case. (Just to clarify though, I am pretty adamant about recycling and such. :p ) Rather, I'd question my budgeting skills if I spent too much money on cards.
Once I have chosen my paper and pen, the writing process begins. This takes longer than everything else put together. Maybe it's because I type on a keyboard and phone pad more than I handwrite, but writing by hand takes so long....more than I remember! I've tried to write all letters at one time, but I can't get past seven letters at a time. The letter writing happens in waves. Finally, taking the letters to the post office requires planning ahead, or sometimes means going during my lunch break and returning to the staffroom soaked in rain (like today).
“I know I'll never let you down. I will never go away.”
I always promise the people I love that I will stand by them, and yet it seems that I always go away. (Classic struggle of physical vs. emotional). I know that my friends and family want me to be happy, and sometimes that requires leaving on an adventure. I love to see new places. I love to meet new people. I love to experience something different. And, distance is a state of mind after all. Yes it is, but sometimes we can trick ourselves into being distant when the physical distance is great. This usually starts with failing to keep in touch. I haven't figured out how to avoid this dilemma, but I can feel my heart trying to when my daily choices are affected by someone far away, or when the slightest detail reminds me of someone special. I love it when thinking of someone at home makes a bad day better. Just knowing that the person would know exactly what to say reassures me. I hope I return the favor in some way. So, please know that I write to reassure you that I will never go away, contrary to how you may feel.
“I really wish that you would stay but what can we do, all the days that you've been gone I dream about you, and I anticipate the day that you will come home, home, home.”
Yes, home is California. But home is also two cities in California: Reseda and Los Angeles. Home is also France. And home is now also Japan. Home is mainly where my heart is, or has been, or continues to intersect with my experiences. So how do I deal with these feelings of belonging? You know those cards and letters you send me through the mail? Or those messages that you send to me online? Opening them feels like home. When you take the time to write to me, it's like I'm home. And when we see each other after a long time, it's like I never left home. So you see, I will never go away =)
That is why I love writing to people, and why it's a horrible feeling to lose touch with someone. Sometimes you let distance affect you. You may go from seeing a person everyday to seeing them once a year, or once every two years. You go so long without talking to him or her, and the more time that passes, the harder it is to get back into the same groove. The longer the delay, the more you fear that you will not be compatible with that person. So, you might distance yourself to create a buffer between incompatibility. The distance protects you from having to redefine a relationship. The distance allows you to hold on to what the relationship was like. And if you do manage to reconnect with someone special, there are usually two outcomes. IF you're lucky, you realize that regardless of any changes, you are still compatible in your desire to care for each other. Sadly, we sometimes find that we have grown too far apart from the other person. While it is wonderful to discover mutual love, it is scary to not recognize someone you once knew so well. Thus, I prefer to never lose touch at all. I have never been perfect at it, so I am trying to improve. If we lost contact a while ago, please write to me. I promise that I'll write back...
“No matter how far you are, no matter how long it takes him[/her], through distance and time I'll be waiting.”
I write because that's all I can offer you at the moment. I can't give you a hug when you're feeling blue, nor a pat on the back when you make me proud, nor a playful punch when you make a joke... nor can I give your hand a gentle squeeze to comfort you, nor a live smile or laugh. My letter is the only physical thing carrying those across the ocean to you, so please accept it wholeheartedly.
Here's to wishing that no letter of mine will sit in a mailbox, collecting dust. Because waiting in vain, that's a whole different song...
“And if you have to walk a million miles, I'll wait a million days to see you smile. Distance and time, I'll be waiting.”
“Distance and time, I'll be waiting.”
Monday, December 13, 2010
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Bajo La Misma Luna, Luna de Octubre
Every night, I receive an email from my parents. My mom sends me a text before she starts getting ready for work, and my dad sends me an email from his workplace. So, every night at around 10:30pm, my phone rings or vibrates and lets me know that I have mail. The time difference between California and Japan is sixteen hours, so this is one of the few time windows where the three of us are in sync and able to talk. My parents send me a brief message before they start their busy days, and I am able to read it as my busy day comes to an end. It's a rare, quiet time in our schedules that we can make up for the distance between us and the responsibilities that occupy our time.
One night, I received an email from my dad with an attachment. He had attached a song to the email. He explained that the song, “Juan el Pescador”, was recorded in Mexico in 1968 by the musical group las Estrellas de Plata. He was twelve years old when the song was released, and when he was fourteen or fifteen years old, his older sister and her husband took him to buy the song. The single was on a two-song 45 rpm record. After having saved up his money for a long time, he was the proud owner of the vinyl record. He doesn't remember why he was drawn to that particular song, and even forgot about the song until he rediscovered it three years ago. And through that email, I discovered a moment in my dad's childhood. For the next four nights, I played that song while writing back to my dad's emails.
Five nights later, my dad sent me another song. This one was titled “Luna de Octubre.” The email was mostly blank, so I simply listened to the song and appreciated the traditional style of the trio. The next night, he sent another email where he quoted the song, “De las lunas, la de Octubre es más hermosa.” Roughly translated, “Of all the moons, October's moon is the loveliest.” He then asked me if I had had a chance to look up at the moon. He hadn't seen the moon lately, but he wondered if I could see it, since it was nighttime in Japan. It was October 9th and all I could see was a thin crescent. It was barely visible, but it was lovely.
Every night after, it became a friendly challenge to see who remembered to look for the moon. Sometimes it would slip my mind, but sometimes I would look for it as I biked home from the gym. We would share our “moon story” every night. One night, we had both seen the same moon. My dad had seen the moon as he drove to work in the early hours of the morning, before the sun fully rose. I had seen it on my way home from a late workout. Although we know that we see the same moon, it had really felt like we were under the same one.
It's harder for my dad and I to look out for each other with the distance and time difference. Yet, my dad felt that the moon was a way for us to make amends with both. When the sun is rising in California, and the moon camouflages itself into the daylight, the moon is still shining in Japan. So in a way, while I sleep and my dad goes about his daily obligations, the moon looks after me from the moment I make my way home every night. Reversely, as I teach and am occupied with work, the moon appears in California and watches over my family. Although we're living in different parts of the day and do not share the same time zone, we share the same moon. We are under the same moon. Estamos bajo la misma luna.
Bajo la misma luna. I borrowed the phrase from the title of a film that my brother once suggested we watch as a family. The film is about a Mexican mother who leaves her son in the care of his grandmother, in order to work in the United States and provide for her mother and son. Every week, she calls her son and tells him that they are under the same moon, and that it looks after him since she is so far away. When the grandmother passes away, the boy decides to enter the United States and look for his mother. He has no address and no proper documentation to enter the United States, and his journey is a dangerous one. However, he finds comfort in the moon, and sees it as a sign that his mother is watching over him. I won't spoil the movie for you, but the essential point is that the moon has symbolic value, and that regardless where they are geographically, they are under the same moon.
When I replied to my dad's insight about the moon, I included the phrase “bajo la misma luna.” He immediately understood where the phrase came from and what it meant.
On October 23rd, there was a full moon, and though it was a bit cloudy, it was still radiant in all its glory.
One night, I received an email from my dad with an attachment. He had attached a song to the email. He explained that the song, “Juan el Pescador”, was recorded in Mexico in 1968 by the musical group las Estrellas de Plata. He was twelve years old when the song was released, and when he was fourteen or fifteen years old, his older sister and her husband took him to buy the song. The single was on a two-song 45 rpm record. After having saved up his money for a long time, he was the proud owner of the vinyl record. He doesn't remember why he was drawn to that particular song, and even forgot about the song until he rediscovered it three years ago. And through that email, I discovered a moment in my dad's childhood. For the next four nights, I played that song while writing back to my dad's emails.
Five nights later, my dad sent me another song. This one was titled “Luna de Octubre.” The email was mostly blank, so I simply listened to the song and appreciated the traditional style of the trio. The next night, he sent another email where he quoted the song, “De las lunas, la de Octubre es más hermosa.” Roughly translated, “Of all the moons, October's moon is the loveliest.” He then asked me if I had had a chance to look up at the moon. He hadn't seen the moon lately, but he wondered if I could see it, since it was nighttime in Japan. It was October 9th and all I could see was a thin crescent. It was barely visible, but it was lovely.
Every night after, it became a friendly challenge to see who remembered to look for the moon. Sometimes it would slip my mind, but sometimes I would look for it as I biked home from the gym. We would share our “moon story” every night. One night, we had both seen the same moon. My dad had seen the moon as he drove to work in the early hours of the morning, before the sun fully rose. I had seen it on my way home from a late workout. Although we know that we see the same moon, it had really felt like we were under the same one.
It's harder for my dad and I to look out for each other with the distance and time difference. Yet, my dad felt that the moon was a way for us to make amends with both. When the sun is rising in California, and the moon camouflages itself into the daylight, the moon is still shining in Japan. So in a way, while I sleep and my dad goes about his daily obligations, the moon looks after me from the moment I make my way home every night. Reversely, as I teach and am occupied with work, the moon appears in California and watches over my family. Although we're living in different parts of the day and do not share the same time zone, we share the same moon. We are under the same moon. Estamos bajo la misma luna.
Bajo la misma luna. I borrowed the phrase from the title of a film that my brother once suggested we watch as a family. The film is about a Mexican mother who leaves her son in the care of his grandmother, in order to work in the United States and provide for her mother and son. Every week, she calls her son and tells him that they are under the same moon, and that it looks after him since she is so far away. When the grandmother passes away, the boy decides to enter the United States and look for his mother. He has no address and no proper documentation to enter the United States, and his journey is a dangerous one. However, he finds comfort in the moon, and sees it as a sign that his mother is watching over him. I won't spoil the movie for you, but the essential point is that the moon has symbolic value, and that regardless where they are geographically, they are under the same moon.
When I replied to my dad's insight about the moon, I included the phrase “bajo la misma luna.” He immediately understood where the phrase came from and what it meant.
On October 23rd, there was a full moon, and though it was a bit cloudy, it was still radiant in all its glory.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Sexy "Joba" Time
I joined a gym! Last month, a Japanese teacher invited me to the gym to try out an easy aerobics class and a Zumba class. I had been wanting to try out the gyms in my area, so this was the ideal situation; a Japanese person would walk me through a gym. It saved me from entering a local gym and having what could have been a painful conversation with a gym employee.
We met on a Tuesday night for my gym tour. I was pleasantly surprised by the Japanese gym. Normally, I associate gyms with sweaty people, but this gym, like everything else in Japan, was absolutely pristine. I assure you, there was plenty of sweaty people, but everything else was just so clean. To start, you take your outdoor shoes off at the entrance and put them in a mini locker, turn the little knob, and take the small locker key with you. After, you walk over to the front desk and show the receptionist your membership card. On my first visit, I had to sign some liability papers. I guess safety hazards and law suits also exist in Japan :p When you finish that process, you make your way to the locker rooms. In my gym, the locker room is on the second floor. Of course, the female locker rooms have a pink curtain in the entryway, and the male locker rooms have a blue curtain in the entrance -_-. In Japan, my gender is pink. Not female or woman, but pink. I'm not thrilled about that, but it's getting engrained in my head. I have become so “cutesy” obsessed, and am so attracted to the color pink. Darn you socialization...! Still, the attention to detail in Japan is just so darn cute.... ugh.
Anyways, I digress. Back to my locker discussion. The lockers are for day use, so you can't leave anything in them overnight. However, there are smaller lockers that you can rent for an additional monthly cost. I'm considering renting one. Either that, or getting a larger gym bag to fit my shoes, clothes, toiletries, and a change of clothes. The first time I visited, I didn't have any brand new, clean gym shoes, so I had to rent some from the front desk for 200 yen. Luckily they had my size! For some reason, my “American size” in Japan is 8.5, which doesn't make sense, because I am a 9.5 in women sizes and a 7.5 in men sizes. Regardless, they had shoes that I could wear!
One of the group exercise studios is on the same floor as the locker room, and the other one is on the third floor. The cardio machines, the weight room, the stretching room and the massage chair room are also on the third floor. Yes, they have a massaging chair room. I'll get back to that in a moment... For now, let me tell you about the Easy Aerobics and Zumba class.
Easy Aerobics was not so easy... I'll explain. I enjoy exercise, and I love aerobics, but I am not very athletic. My life is full of contradictions. (Haha) I have bad reflexes, my hand-eye coordination is oh-so limited, and I'm clumsy. With that in mind, you can imagine what I look like in an aerobics class. Now, picture me in a class with instructions spoken in Japanese and really flexible and fit Japanese people, and there is potential for a seriously funny image. If you know me well, you're probably laughing now, and if you're not, you would have been laughing if you could have seen me in my first exercise class in Japan. I was always one tempo behind everyone, since I had to imitate the steps instead of listening for directions, and I couldn't keep up with the sequences. They were too complex for me haha. Everyone else though, was following along perfectly and doing it so gracefully. Japanese people bounce gracefully when they do aerobics. In California, I have done aerobics classes, and I find that aerobic moves are more mechanical. In Japan, people's feet glide...
In the last ten minutes of the class, the instructor dims the lights and guides the class through some simple stretches. The instructor is this young-looking Japanese woman, who is probably 50 for all I know, and the participants are usually older than me, way older. In Japan, age is really nothing but a number when it comes to athleticism and appearance. They age so well, and they are still so active when they are older. The easy aerobics course is popular among the older crowd, and while the level is easier than kickboxing, I am still impressed at their performance. They have no problems with the stretches she proposes. One of the stretches in the first class was a hip stretch, and the instructor approached me to correct my form, but when she tried to adjust my position, she realized why I wasn't doing it correctly. I simply can't. Let's just put it this way, a yoga instructor at UCLA once approached me during a yoga course, and tried to correct my hip stretch, but when she saw that I couldn't, she told me I had stiff hips. Another yoga instructor advised me to bend more into child's pose, and when I couldn't do it on my own, she said that I must spend a lot of time sitting and studying. I'm not sure what the health hazards of “stiff hips” are, but the description doesn't sound pretty and the “condition” is pitiful in a room full of old people that don't seem to suffer from “stiff hips.” So yes, it was a problem in California, and it continues to be a problem in Japan. But wait, there is hope...
There are certain machines in the gym that look funny, and people that ride them also look funny. Yes, I did just use the verb “ride”, and that's because that is exactly what people do on these machines. The machines are called “joba” machines, which I understand is also the word for horseback riding. They were first introduced in Japan, and apparently have been a hit in some American gyms. The machines were inspired by the benefits of horseback riding as physical therapy. The joba machines are not an excellent source of cardio, but they strengthen the core, thighs, and lower back muscles as the rider makes an effort to stay on the machine while it rocks back and forth. In addition, a friend of mine suspects that they are part of the reason why Japanese people are so flexible. I see the old folk on them, and they are soooo flexible, so I believe it!!! So, this is why I say there is hope for me and my hips. I have incorporated “sexy” joba time into my gym routine. Oh, and I describe it as “sexy”, because the circular motions are pretty provocative. I blame places like Saddle Ranch and their bull riding entertainment for that thought...
After the aerobics class, the real fun began! Zumba is led by this muscular Japanese man, who knows how to move! I appreciate the fact that there are no instructions in this class, and that you simply follow his lead. It sounds chaotic, but it works. In the beginning of the class, my teacher friend introduced me to the instructor, and mentioned that I was of Mexican heritage. I wanted to shout out, Noooooo!, People assume that my Latin roots mean that I can dance salsa, merengue, bachata or mambo really well. Not only are those not primarily Mexican, but I can't dance. Again, I enjoy it, but I am not good with coordination! So, I bet that he expected me to be really good, and I caught him looking my way during class. Sorry to disappoint you, Zumba instructor. Actually, it wasn't so bad, because we would laugh together when I couldn't get a step right. All in all, the class was great, and I plan on going every week!!! The music is so good! (Think anything from Lady Gaga to salsa to quebraditas!) I'm definitely looking into Zumba classes when I get back to the States, especially if they play songs like “Mi Dulce Niña” by the Kumbia Kings. Hehe. Oh, and in case you're wondering, Japanese people can also dance very well, and boy, can they move! Puts me to shame (again). Haha.
After those two classes (which I'm now turning into a weekly routine), I got my purse from the locker room. The locker room is such a relaxing place, and a perfect place for socializing. First off, they are pleasantly warm and the showering system is amazing. They have individual showers and Japanese style communal showers, where you sit on a plastic stool, and wash as you chat with your gym buddies. They also have cold baths, hot baths, and a sauna. After showering, you can sit in this mirror room and blow dry your hair, while a fan blows cool air towards you so that you don't break a sweat. I find that women use this time to chat some more. I can't understand what they're talking about, but I still enjoy sitting there and blow-drying my hair. When I finish all of that and leave the locker room, it feels like I have left a mini spa. I kid you not. I feel even more relaxed if I head to the massage chairs after. The massage chairs are incredible. First of all, it's incredible that they even have them! Second of all, they are so efficient. They have features that massage your back, your neck, your buttocks, your legs, your feet, and your arms, all simultaneously. Perfection!
When I do finally decide to leave the gym :p , I head downstairs to the front desk, hand them my card for them to scan, and then grab my shoes from the small locker. Of course, they thank you for visiting and say goodbye to you as you leave. I especially love hearing the polite goodbye after a therapeutic gym session!
I said I wanted to be more active this year, but let's hope I don't turn into a gym rat. If you can't reach me, at least you know where to find me :p.
We met on a Tuesday night for my gym tour. I was pleasantly surprised by the Japanese gym. Normally, I associate gyms with sweaty people, but this gym, like everything else in Japan, was absolutely pristine. I assure you, there was plenty of sweaty people, but everything else was just so clean. To start, you take your outdoor shoes off at the entrance and put them in a mini locker, turn the little knob, and take the small locker key with you. After, you walk over to the front desk and show the receptionist your membership card. On my first visit, I had to sign some liability papers. I guess safety hazards and law suits also exist in Japan :p When you finish that process, you make your way to the locker rooms. In my gym, the locker room is on the second floor. Of course, the female locker rooms have a pink curtain in the entryway, and the male locker rooms have a blue curtain in the entrance -_-. In Japan, my gender is pink. Not female or woman, but pink. I'm not thrilled about that, but it's getting engrained in my head. I have become so “cutesy” obsessed, and am so attracted to the color pink. Darn you socialization...! Still, the attention to detail in Japan is just so darn cute.... ugh.
Anyways, I digress. Back to my locker discussion. The lockers are for day use, so you can't leave anything in them overnight. However, there are smaller lockers that you can rent for an additional monthly cost. I'm considering renting one. Either that, or getting a larger gym bag to fit my shoes, clothes, toiletries, and a change of clothes. The first time I visited, I didn't have any brand new, clean gym shoes, so I had to rent some from the front desk for 200 yen. Luckily they had my size! For some reason, my “American size” in Japan is 8.5, which doesn't make sense, because I am a 9.5 in women sizes and a 7.5 in men sizes. Regardless, they had shoes that I could wear!
One of the group exercise studios is on the same floor as the locker room, and the other one is on the third floor. The cardio machines, the weight room, the stretching room and the massage chair room are also on the third floor. Yes, they have a massaging chair room. I'll get back to that in a moment... For now, let me tell you about the Easy Aerobics and Zumba class.
Easy Aerobics was not so easy... I'll explain. I enjoy exercise, and I love aerobics, but I am not very athletic. My life is full of contradictions. (Haha) I have bad reflexes, my hand-eye coordination is oh-so limited, and I'm clumsy. With that in mind, you can imagine what I look like in an aerobics class. Now, picture me in a class with instructions spoken in Japanese and really flexible and fit Japanese people, and there is potential for a seriously funny image. If you know me well, you're probably laughing now, and if you're not, you would have been laughing if you could have seen me in my first exercise class in Japan. I was always one tempo behind everyone, since I had to imitate the steps instead of listening for directions, and I couldn't keep up with the sequences. They were too complex for me haha. Everyone else though, was following along perfectly and doing it so gracefully. Japanese people bounce gracefully when they do aerobics. In California, I have done aerobics classes, and I find that aerobic moves are more mechanical. In Japan, people's feet glide...
In the last ten minutes of the class, the instructor dims the lights and guides the class through some simple stretches. The instructor is this young-looking Japanese woman, who is probably 50 for all I know, and the participants are usually older than me, way older. In Japan, age is really nothing but a number when it comes to athleticism and appearance. They age so well, and they are still so active when they are older. The easy aerobics course is popular among the older crowd, and while the level is easier than kickboxing, I am still impressed at their performance. They have no problems with the stretches she proposes. One of the stretches in the first class was a hip stretch, and the instructor approached me to correct my form, but when she tried to adjust my position, she realized why I wasn't doing it correctly. I simply can't. Let's just put it this way, a yoga instructor at UCLA once approached me during a yoga course, and tried to correct my hip stretch, but when she saw that I couldn't, she told me I had stiff hips. Another yoga instructor advised me to bend more into child's pose, and when I couldn't do it on my own, she said that I must spend a lot of time sitting and studying. I'm not sure what the health hazards of “stiff hips” are, but the description doesn't sound pretty and the “condition” is pitiful in a room full of old people that don't seem to suffer from “stiff hips.” So yes, it was a problem in California, and it continues to be a problem in Japan. But wait, there is hope...
There are certain machines in the gym that look funny, and people that ride them also look funny. Yes, I did just use the verb “ride”, and that's because that is exactly what people do on these machines. The machines are called “joba” machines, which I understand is also the word for horseback riding. They were first introduced in Japan, and apparently have been a hit in some American gyms. The machines were inspired by the benefits of horseback riding as physical therapy. The joba machines are not an excellent source of cardio, but they strengthen the core, thighs, and lower back muscles as the rider makes an effort to stay on the machine while it rocks back and forth. In addition, a friend of mine suspects that they are part of the reason why Japanese people are so flexible. I see the old folk on them, and they are soooo flexible, so I believe it!!! So, this is why I say there is hope for me and my hips. I have incorporated “sexy” joba time into my gym routine. Oh, and I describe it as “sexy”, because the circular motions are pretty provocative. I blame places like Saddle Ranch and their bull riding entertainment for that thought...
After the aerobics class, the real fun began! Zumba is led by this muscular Japanese man, who knows how to move! I appreciate the fact that there are no instructions in this class, and that you simply follow his lead. It sounds chaotic, but it works. In the beginning of the class, my teacher friend introduced me to the instructor, and mentioned that I was of Mexican heritage. I wanted to shout out, Noooooo!, People assume that my Latin roots mean that I can dance salsa, merengue, bachata or mambo really well. Not only are those not primarily Mexican, but I can't dance. Again, I enjoy it, but I am not good with coordination! So, I bet that he expected me to be really good, and I caught him looking my way during class. Sorry to disappoint you, Zumba instructor. Actually, it wasn't so bad, because we would laugh together when I couldn't get a step right. All in all, the class was great, and I plan on going every week!!! The music is so good! (Think anything from Lady Gaga to salsa to quebraditas!) I'm definitely looking into Zumba classes when I get back to the States, especially if they play songs like “Mi Dulce Niña” by the Kumbia Kings. Hehe. Oh, and in case you're wondering, Japanese people can also dance very well, and boy, can they move! Puts me to shame (again). Haha.
After those two classes (which I'm now turning into a weekly routine), I got my purse from the locker room. The locker room is such a relaxing place, and a perfect place for socializing. First off, they are pleasantly warm and the showering system is amazing. They have individual showers and Japanese style communal showers, where you sit on a plastic stool, and wash as you chat with your gym buddies. They also have cold baths, hot baths, and a sauna. After showering, you can sit in this mirror room and blow dry your hair, while a fan blows cool air towards you so that you don't break a sweat. I find that women use this time to chat some more. I can't understand what they're talking about, but I still enjoy sitting there and blow-drying my hair. When I finish all of that and leave the locker room, it feels like I have left a mini spa. I kid you not. I feel even more relaxed if I head to the massage chairs after. The massage chairs are incredible. First of all, it's incredible that they even have them! Second of all, they are so efficient. They have features that massage your back, your neck, your buttocks, your legs, your feet, and your arms, all simultaneously. Perfection!
When I do finally decide to leave the gym :p , I head downstairs to the front desk, hand them my card for them to scan, and then grab my shoes from the small locker. Of course, they thank you for visiting and say goodbye to you as you leave. I especially love hearing the polite goodbye after a therapeutic gym session!
I said I wanted to be more active this year, but let's hope I don't turn into a gym rat. If you can't reach me, at least you know where to find me :p.
Friday, August 27, 2010
"...Ain't no mountain high enough, ain't no valley low enough...to keep me from [loving you, Japan]"
There is so much to write about. I have had so many first impressions, so many questions, and have made so many exciting discoveries, that I don't know where to start, and once I do, I can't bring myself to stop. But, if I had to choose one aspect of my life here that represents most of those emotions, it would have to be cycling. Yes, riding my bike compares to riding the emotional roller coaster of living abroad: the normality of it, the excitement of it, the obstacle courses, and sometimes, the outright panic and doubt.
A couple of weeks ago, I realized that it was raining as I hurried over from my apartment to the bike shed. I was running late, so I didn't rush back upstairs to grab an umbrella or a poncho. Either way, it wasn't raining too hard.
That didn't last too long. The rain started picking up, and I had to keep blinking in order to keep the rain out of my eyes. It made for such unsafe riding, since I couldn't really see the pavement in front of me. I pulled over – aware that I could run into something or someone – and considered going back to grab my rain gear, or even stop by a shop to buy an umbrella. Both of those options would be time consuming, so I simply pulled out my lightly tinted sunglasses and put them on. I started cycling, and the rain drops started collecting on the lens, but it was easier to wipe the drops off of those, than to blink really, really fast and still have obscured vision. I was aware of the fact that I looked ridiculous, but I didn't care. As a non-Japanese coworker pointed out, people here will notice that you're different, they might point, or even ridicule, but you shouldn't compromise all level of comfort to change who you are. I agree. As long as I acknowledge and do my best to respect Japanese customs, I won't be apologetic for the things that make me different from them. Thankfully, Japanese people are understanding of foreigners, but it doesn't exempt you from the stares...
The bike ride was going well for a good while, until I got stuck riding behind a young girl that was pedaling slower than I was. I wanted to pass her, but the bike path was too narrow. We went along that way for another minute or so, when I noticed a fellow teacher waiting at the bus stop ahead. The sidewalk started to widen, and because I did not want to look like such an amateur – riding slowly behind a child – I sped up, passed the girl, and continued at that fast speed. By the next block, I was going so fast that the bike was almost gliding. I should learn to take my time. That applies to everything here, from chores to business. For example, the ATMs apply an extra fee to evening transactions, and are shut down after a certain hour. I should plan ahead when needing cash. As for laundry, I don't have a dryer, so I can't put in a load at midnight to wash a shirt that I need for work the next day. (Besides, making that much noise at night would be rude). And as for cooking, I have one stovetop, so I must learn to cook efficiently and patiently with my single unit. (Thank goodness for that rice cooker! It still hasn't launched itself into space, but it sure makes some yummy rice with little to no supervision).
After “racing” with the girl, I almost got to school without further ado. I was about a block away, when a crow sprang out of the tree branches and nearly scared me to death. I say to death, because it made me swerve into the street. Ok, I exaggerate... that street rarely has traffic, but still, I don't like that bird.
Cycling to work that morning was like an obstacle course. In the evening, when I got off of work, it was a glorious ride, until it got worse. Much worse.
I needed to go to the Amagasaki City Hall to pick up a receipt for my alien registration card. The teachers let me leave early to make it there before closing time. I felt so free, leaving work early and not having to worry about the rain ruining my hair, or about my work clothes getting sweaty or wet. (I now change when I get to school, since I either get too sweaty or rained on, depending on the weather.) I was cycling along pretty fast, feeling like a student after the last day of school. I don't know what it was, but I felt so invincible. There weren't many people riding their bikes, so the sidewalk was mostly mine and I zoomed past houses and fields. Most of the traffic lights I approached were green, so nothing was slowing my rhythm. This is how I feel sometimes, when I feel the thrill and rush of living in a new country. I feel enabled and empowered to have a job that allows me to meet people I wouldn't have otherwise met, and where almost everything is a new experience. I can travel, and see sights and colors found nowhere else in the world. Thrilling.
It's called a rush, because it doesn't last very long. About twenty minutes later, I noticed that I was soaked, and I figured that it would be best to change my clothes. I did not want to drip my way into the city hall. I was close to home, so I dashed in to change into a dry set of clothes, and grab a poncho. Woe is me. Five minutes after leaving my apartment, it was only drizzling. Instead of being dry under my heavy duty poncho, I was damp with perspiration.
I had a map to the city hall, but I could not find a certain street that I needed to turn left on. I realized that I had gone too far, so I pulled over to ask for directions. I waited for someone to pass by to ask for help, but everyone was cycling fast. Finally, there was a woman on a bike who was approaching me pretty slowly. Maybe I should have seen this as a sign that she was not at complete ease on her bike, but at the moment, it seemed like the perfect person to ask for help. I signaled to her and said “sumimasen” or “excuse me/I'm sorry”, and she slowed down even more, stopping her bike right next to me. The next thing I knew, the woman's bike was falling over to the side, and she was falling with it. It all happened so fast, yet I saw it all in slow motion.
I rushed off of my bike and ran over to see if the woman was injured. She had fallen onto the traffic lane, landed on her stomach, face and arms. Her ankles looked a bit twisted, and my first instinct was that they might have been sprained. I tried to help her up, but she wouldn't move. She just laid there, as I went between lightly squeezing her shoulder as reassurance, and diverting traffic from the left lane to the right lane. (Note: Cars drive on the other side of the road, like in the UK.) It felt like an eternity, but eventually she unfroze and started sitting up. I helped her up, and she sat on the edge of the sidewalk. I was so nervous the whole time, since she was still so close to the cars zooming by. I wanted to sit next to her, but instead I continued standing so that we would be visible to traffic. I think that ugly, sticky poncho helped. I looked closely at her face, and I noticed two things: she was an elderly woman, and she had a big bruise on her left cheek. I felt so horrible, and even though I did not physically make her fall, I felt responsible for the accident. If I wouldn't have tried asking for directions, she would not have fallen.
All I could mutter throughout the whole incident was “sumimasen.” Over and over again. I was so apologetic and appalled at the people that passed by. Her bike was still where it had fallen, and mine was also laying close by, since I had thrown it aside when I rushed over to help her. It clearly looked like an accident of some sort, but no one stopped to help. I looked distressed, and there was a woman on the floor. Still, all I got was glances and apologetic expressions, and no one bothered to stop and see if she was alright. After a while, the situation was under control, but I still needed a translator to see if the woman felt fine, or felt severe pain or dizziness. Yet, no one stopped.
After she had sat down, I had picked up our bikes and set them upright on the sidewalk. After about ten minutes, she got up to stand by her bike. I remembered that my JET Diary was in my bag. It is a planner that they gave us at Tokyo orientation. It has an index with useful phrases for all kinds of situations. I found the list of medical terms and started to ask the woman if she felt dizzy, faint or any sharp pain. She shook her head to all, glanced at my list, and pointed to “dull pain” or “nibui itami”. Right after, she beckoned for me to leave, but I didn't want to leave until I knew that she was completely alright. She kept pressing her bruise lightly, and she looked a bit disoriented. I found the word for family, trying to figure out if she lived close by. She just nodded her head. After about five minutes of silence, and me trying to figure out what to do next, she hopped on her bike and beckoned for me to do the same. I was hesitant, but got on my bike. Yet, I could tell that she wasn't going anywhere. I finally understood that she wasn't going to leave until I left. I rode off reluctantly. I was still worried, I felt so horrible, and I still didn't know which street to take. At least it had stopped raining.
I stopped at a Yoshinoya restaurant to ask for directions. I wasn't about to ask anyone else on the street. A female employee circled the street I needed on my map, and drew arrows for which path to take. I wish I would have stopped there in the first place. I was still a bit shaky and nervous on my bike, so I rode slowly. I finally got to the city hall, and I realized that it was 5pm, closing time. I almost didn't want to walk in, ready to give up and get the whole thing right the next day. However, I decided to give it a try, because the teachers had been kind in letting me leave early, and after all, the woman had stopped to help me. I did not want that fiasco to be in vain. I am glad I went in, because I got the document I needed. That document was my passport to getting a phone and the internet setup.
I can't stand myself when I sulk. Some bouts last longer than others, but I eventually pull myself out of the pit of self pity. I'd rather end a day on a good note (I don't know anyone who prefers otherwise, really), so I decided to try and get a cellphone. I biked over to the Softbank company shop (Verizon equivalent, more or less) and asked if anyone spoke English. I was delighted when one of the employees replied with a “yes.” Although they did not have the IPhone 3 in stock, he made a few calls and confirmed that they had a phone for me in Kobe, and that one of the staff members spoke English. I thanked the employee for his help, picked up a quick dinner by the station (fries and a biscuit from KFC – I thought that my college diet days would be over by now, guess not haha), and hopped on the train to Kobe. Two hours later, I was back home, with a brand new addition to my Apple family. I know you can't buy happiness, but sometimes I feel as if I can. My phone allowed me to connect to the internet and browse through emails, facebook pages, and pictures that made me feel better.
Luckily, I don't always have such chaotic experiences while cycling. I think I would throw my bike in the nearest gutter if that were the case. I also don't have that many peaks and lows as I am adjusting to life in Japan. Instead, it's a pleasant line that leans towards the peaks. I am starting to feel at home here, and while I still get homesick as I prepare pictures and maps for my self-introduction, I know that I have to enjoy being in this country while it lasts. The JET program is not forever, and I intend to make the best of it...
A couple of weeks ago, I realized that it was raining as I hurried over from my apartment to the bike shed. I was running late, so I didn't rush back upstairs to grab an umbrella or a poncho. Either way, it wasn't raining too hard.
That didn't last too long. The rain started picking up, and I had to keep blinking in order to keep the rain out of my eyes. It made for such unsafe riding, since I couldn't really see the pavement in front of me. I pulled over – aware that I could run into something or someone – and considered going back to grab my rain gear, or even stop by a shop to buy an umbrella. Both of those options would be time consuming, so I simply pulled out my lightly tinted sunglasses and put them on. I started cycling, and the rain drops started collecting on the lens, but it was easier to wipe the drops off of those, than to blink really, really fast and still have obscured vision. I was aware of the fact that I looked ridiculous, but I didn't care. As a non-Japanese coworker pointed out, people here will notice that you're different, they might point, or even ridicule, but you shouldn't compromise all level of comfort to change who you are. I agree. As long as I acknowledge and do my best to respect Japanese customs, I won't be apologetic for the things that make me different from them. Thankfully, Japanese people are understanding of foreigners, but it doesn't exempt you from the stares...
The bike ride was going well for a good while, until I got stuck riding behind a young girl that was pedaling slower than I was. I wanted to pass her, but the bike path was too narrow. We went along that way for another minute or so, when I noticed a fellow teacher waiting at the bus stop ahead. The sidewalk started to widen, and because I did not want to look like such an amateur – riding slowly behind a child – I sped up, passed the girl, and continued at that fast speed. By the next block, I was going so fast that the bike was almost gliding. I should learn to take my time. That applies to everything here, from chores to business. For example, the ATMs apply an extra fee to evening transactions, and are shut down after a certain hour. I should plan ahead when needing cash. As for laundry, I don't have a dryer, so I can't put in a load at midnight to wash a shirt that I need for work the next day. (Besides, making that much noise at night would be rude). And as for cooking, I have one stovetop, so I must learn to cook efficiently and patiently with my single unit. (Thank goodness for that rice cooker! It still hasn't launched itself into space, but it sure makes some yummy rice with little to no supervision).
After “racing” with the girl, I almost got to school without further ado. I was about a block away, when a crow sprang out of the tree branches and nearly scared me to death. I say to death, because it made me swerve into the street. Ok, I exaggerate... that street rarely has traffic, but still, I don't like that bird.
Cycling to work that morning was like an obstacle course. In the evening, when I got off of work, it was a glorious ride, until it got worse. Much worse.
I needed to go to the Amagasaki City Hall to pick up a receipt for my alien registration card. The teachers let me leave early to make it there before closing time. I felt so free, leaving work early and not having to worry about the rain ruining my hair, or about my work clothes getting sweaty or wet. (I now change when I get to school, since I either get too sweaty or rained on, depending on the weather.) I was cycling along pretty fast, feeling like a student after the last day of school. I don't know what it was, but I felt so invincible. There weren't many people riding their bikes, so the sidewalk was mostly mine and I zoomed past houses and fields. Most of the traffic lights I approached were green, so nothing was slowing my rhythm. This is how I feel sometimes, when I feel the thrill and rush of living in a new country. I feel enabled and empowered to have a job that allows me to meet people I wouldn't have otherwise met, and where almost everything is a new experience. I can travel, and see sights and colors found nowhere else in the world. Thrilling.
It's called a rush, because it doesn't last very long. About twenty minutes later, I noticed that I was soaked, and I figured that it would be best to change my clothes. I did not want to drip my way into the city hall. I was close to home, so I dashed in to change into a dry set of clothes, and grab a poncho. Woe is me. Five minutes after leaving my apartment, it was only drizzling. Instead of being dry under my heavy duty poncho, I was damp with perspiration.
I had a map to the city hall, but I could not find a certain street that I needed to turn left on. I realized that I had gone too far, so I pulled over to ask for directions. I waited for someone to pass by to ask for help, but everyone was cycling fast. Finally, there was a woman on a bike who was approaching me pretty slowly. Maybe I should have seen this as a sign that she was not at complete ease on her bike, but at the moment, it seemed like the perfect person to ask for help. I signaled to her and said “sumimasen” or “excuse me/I'm sorry”, and she slowed down even more, stopping her bike right next to me. The next thing I knew, the woman's bike was falling over to the side, and she was falling with it. It all happened so fast, yet I saw it all in slow motion.
I rushed off of my bike and ran over to see if the woman was injured. She had fallen onto the traffic lane, landed on her stomach, face and arms. Her ankles looked a bit twisted, and my first instinct was that they might have been sprained. I tried to help her up, but she wouldn't move. She just laid there, as I went between lightly squeezing her shoulder as reassurance, and diverting traffic from the left lane to the right lane. (Note: Cars drive on the other side of the road, like in the UK.) It felt like an eternity, but eventually she unfroze and started sitting up. I helped her up, and she sat on the edge of the sidewalk. I was so nervous the whole time, since she was still so close to the cars zooming by. I wanted to sit next to her, but instead I continued standing so that we would be visible to traffic. I think that ugly, sticky poncho helped. I looked closely at her face, and I noticed two things: she was an elderly woman, and she had a big bruise on her left cheek. I felt so horrible, and even though I did not physically make her fall, I felt responsible for the accident. If I wouldn't have tried asking for directions, she would not have fallen.
All I could mutter throughout the whole incident was “sumimasen.” Over and over again. I was so apologetic and appalled at the people that passed by. Her bike was still where it had fallen, and mine was also laying close by, since I had thrown it aside when I rushed over to help her. It clearly looked like an accident of some sort, but no one stopped to help. I looked distressed, and there was a woman on the floor. Still, all I got was glances and apologetic expressions, and no one bothered to stop and see if she was alright. After a while, the situation was under control, but I still needed a translator to see if the woman felt fine, or felt severe pain or dizziness. Yet, no one stopped.
After she had sat down, I had picked up our bikes and set them upright on the sidewalk. After about ten minutes, she got up to stand by her bike. I remembered that my JET Diary was in my bag. It is a planner that they gave us at Tokyo orientation. It has an index with useful phrases for all kinds of situations. I found the list of medical terms and started to ask the woman if she felt dizzy, faint or any sharp pain. She shook her head to all, glanced at my list, and pointed to “dull pain” or “nibui itami”. Right after, she beckoned for me to leave, but I didn't want to leave until I knew that she was completely alright. She kept pressing her bruise lightly, and she looked a bit disoriented. I found the word for family, trying to figure out if she lived close by. She just nodded her head. After about five minutes of silence, and me trying to figure out what to do next, she hopped on her bike and beckoned for me to do the same. I was hesitant, but got on my bike. Yet, I could tell that she wasn't going anywhere. I finally understood that she wasn't going to leave until I left. I rode off reluctantly. I was still worried, I felt so horrible, and I still didn't know which street to take. At least it had stopped raining.
I stopped at a Yoshinoya restaurant to ask for directions. I wasn't about to ask anyone else on the street. A female employee circled the street I needed on my map, and drew arrows for which path to take. I wish I would have stopped there in the first place. I was still a bit shaky and nervous on my bike, so I rode slowly. I finally got to the city hall, and I realized that it was 5pm, closing time. I almost didn't want to walk in, ready to give up and get the whole thing right the next day. However, I decided to give it a try, because the teachers had been kind in letting me leave early, and after all, the woman had stopped to help me. I did not want that fiasco to be in vain. I am glad I went in, because I got the document I needed. That document was my passport to getting a phone and the internet setup.
I can't stand myself when I sulk. Some bouts last longer than others, but I eventually pull myself out of the pit of self pity. I'd rather end a day on a good note (I don't know anyone who prefers otherwise, really), so I decided to try and get a cellphone. I biked over to the Softbank company shop (Verizon equivalent, more or less) and asked if anyone spoke English. I was delighted when one of the employees replied with a “yes.” Although they did not have the IPhone 3 in stock, he made a few calls and confirmed that they had a phone for me in Kobe, and that one of the staff members spoke English. I thanked the employee for his help, picked up a quick dinner by the station (fries and a biscuit from KFC – I thought that my college diet days would be over by now, guess not haha), and hopped on the train to Kobe. Two hours later, I was back home, with a brand new addition to my Apple family. I know you can't buy happiness, but sometimes I feel as if I can. My phone allowed me to connect to the internet and browse through emails, facebook pages, and pictures that made me feel better.
Luckily, I don't always have such chaotic experiences while cycling. I think I would throw my bike in the nearest gutter if that were the case. I also don't have that many peaks and lows as I am adjusting to life in Japan. Instead, it's a pleasant line that leans towards the peaks. I am starting to feel at home here, and while I still get homesick as I prepare pictures and maps for my self-introduction, I know that I have to enjoy being in this country while it lasts. The JET program is not forever, and I intend to make the best of it...
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
"Rain, rain, [don't] go away..."
It is raining. It was sunny earlier today, but when I started hearing a distant tapping sound, I immediately knew that it had started raining. It might be because I am from dry Southern California, but I love the rain. I appreciate how valuable it is to our earth. While I may agree with other Angelenos when they express their discontentment with the rain, it is often for the sake of the conversation... The truth is, I like the rain – I don't like when I am unprepared for it – but the rain makes me happy.
It especially makes me happy, because I feel accompanied when it's raining. This afternoon, the rhythmic falling of the drops distracted me while I was cleaning. I was able to multitask, while I cleaned my apartment. Instead of focusing on the fact that I was cleaning dusty corners, I started to think about my job as an ALT. I really like the environment at my base school. The teachers have all been so welcoming and helpful. Even if they do not speak English, they will ask an English teacher to translate for them so that we can “talk.” It seems like it will be a pleasure working at the high school. Tomorrow and Thursday, I will start working at my visit schools and meet the staff there. It sounds like they will be just as nice. Since everything has gotten off to a smooth start, it led me to question how the rest of the puzzle pieces will fit together. I couldn't help but think, will my students like me? Scrub Will my students understand my lessons? Scrub scrub Will I be an effective teacher so that my students will learn? Scrub scrub scrub. Cleaning goes by quickly when worrying, and not only was the refrigerator spotless when I finished, but I felt my worries melt away. I will offer my best effort and my knowledge about language acquisition to the high schools, and hope they reflect on the students' learning.
Effort. Effort is key. My next endeavor is biking. For the average person, biking is simple enough. I am not your average person, though, and in this case, it is not necessarily a good thing. I know how to ride a bike, yes, but one of my most vivid memories on a bike involves a ramp, sand and blood. Last year, I fell off of a bike as I turned too fast from a sandy road onto a ramp, and the bike landed on top of me. I wasn't seriously injured, but I walked away with a bloody knee, a week's worth of knee pain, and a scar so that I can always remember it. Lovely. Luckily, I still love biking, but I must be careful. I can't bike up a hill without seriously slowing down (even on a small hill; ask my best friend Stephanie, she'll confirm that), and as mentioned, I have fallen off of a bike (and under it O_o). The good thing about moving to a new country is that no one knows about your past, and I can get on a bike innocently enough without anyone suspecting that a klutz is on wheels...
I should have a bike by next week. You see, biking is a necessity in this city if you don't want to rely on public transportation. Don't get me wrong, public transportation in Amagasaki is great. Needless to say, it is a million times better than Los Angeles public transportation. Yet, taking a bus or train is not always the most direct route, and it costs money. Biking can be more direct, and it is free. I suspect that is the reason why so many Japanese people ride bikes everywhere. It is not unusual to see a grandmother on a bike, a man in a suit cycling to work, or a chic woman pedaling to a social gathering. It is also common to see women cycling with their children strapped to a rear bicycle seat. They make biking look so functional and weather proof. I have seen many people using their cellphones while biking (considering my record, I will refrain from doing so), and when it rains, people carry an umbrella to stay dry. Biking suits all occasions. Yesterday, I witnessed a young guy pick up his date on a bike, and they rolled merrily along... Oh young, summer love...
I am adjusting to life in Japan. I hope I can learn to be a cycling master like the Japanese, despite my slippery past. However, some things will be hard to change. For example, the fact that I don't speak Japanese will be my biggest challenge. This week I am allowing myself to finish setting up my apartment, but next week I will start on my Japanese lessons. Until I develop some sort of successful communication in Japanese, I will resort to smiling. Everyone understands a smile. I'm not sure how it happened, but my smile has evolved to express gratitude, contentment, happiness or worry. People respond well to my array of smiles. Unfortunately, I am having less success with gesturing. Too many gestures, or too little gestures, can confuse people. I'm not sure which one I'm doing, but all I know is that people don't always understand me when I gesture. That is usually my cue for smiling...
I like routine, and the faster I establish a routine in Japan, the better! Ironically, a routine here involves changes. Some changes I have embraced readily. For example, I love the fact that instead of signing documents by hand, the Japanese use a custom-made inkan, or stamp, to sign papers. Mine says “Kelly” in the kanji alphabet. Another change, as silly/trivial as it is, is accepting Japanese toilets. I am not reluctant to use a squatting toilet (though I have been mostly using the Western toilets at my school). However, I am not referring to those toilets, I am talking about the high-tech Japanese toilets. When you first glance at them, they seem like any other Western toilet. But, then you notice that there is a small panel of buttons to the right or left of the toilet. Those buttons serve to activate a stream of water, which will clean your bottom after you have finished using the toilet. It is a bit strange and I am almost (almost) afraid of admitting it, but I think it is a great invention. Ok, that is as far as I will go on the discussion of toilets.
We are all creatures of habit, but change is good for us. It makes us less “stuffy”, so to speak. It is interesting to see how we react to it, though...
It is raining. I know I will get used to life in Japan, and I am well under my way as I discover Japanese culture. Already, I have a deep appreciation for the kind Japanese people. I can tell that this will be a rewarding experience. Yet, a part of me feels rebellious, even as I write this. Rain is common in Japan, and it rains frequently in my city. But, rain reminds me of France. It transports me to memories of hiding from the rain underneath a bridge in Lyon, or of taking refuge behind a Parisian building as I enjoy a warm crêpe nutella... Sigh......... Alright, I admit it, the sound of rain here is quite unique. While it sounds the same as it hits the concrete floors and the buildings, I can hear cicadas humming through the rain, lamenting or praising it, I do not know, but I hear them. Yes, it is different, but for now I will indulge the rebel in me, and allow Edith Piaf to serenade me while I sit here and listen to the rain. “...Quand il me prend dans ses bras, il me parle tout bas, je vois la vie en rose...”
It especially makes me happy, because I feel accompanied when it's raining. This afternoon, the rhythmic falling of the drops distracted me while I was cleaning. I was able to multitask, while I cleaned my apartment. Instead of focusing on the fact that I was cleaning dusty corners, I started to think about my job as an ALT. I really like the environment at my base school. The teachers have all been so welcoming and helpful. Even if they do not speak English, they will ask an English teacher to translate for them so that we can “talk.” It seems like it will be a pleasure working at the high school. Tomorrow and Thursday, I will start working at my visit schools and meet the staff there. It sounds like they will be just as nice. Since everything has gotten off to a smooth start, it led me to question how the rest of the puzzle pieces will fit together. I couldn't help but think, will my students like me? Scrub Will my students understand my lessons? Scrub scrub Will I be an effective teacher so that my students will learn? Scrub scrub scrub. Cleaning goes by quickly when worrying, and not only was the refrigerator spotless when I finished, but I felt my worries melt away. I will offer my best effort and my knowledge about language acquisition to the high schools, and hope they reflect on the students' learning.
Effort. Effort is key. My next endeavor is biking. For the average person, biking is simple enough. I am not your average person, though, and in this case, it is not necessarily a good thing. I know how to ride a bike, yes, but one of my most vivid memories on a bike involves a ramp, sand and blood. Last year, I fell off of a bike as I turned too fast from a sandy road onto a ramp, and the bike landed on top of me. I wasn't seriously injured, but I walked away with a bloody knee, a week's worth of knee pain, and a scar so that I can always remember it. Lovely. Luckily, I still love biking, but I must be careful. I can't bike up a hill without seriously slowing down (even on a small hill; ask my best friend Stephanie, she'll confirm that), and as mentioned, I have fallen off of a bike (and under it O_o). The good thing about moving to a new country is that no one knows about your past, and I can get on a bike innocently enough without anyone suspecting that a klutz is on wheels...
I should have a bike by next week. You see, biking is a necessity in this city if you don't want to rely on public transportation. Don't get me wrong, public transportation in Amagasaki is great. Needless to say, it is a million times better than Los Angeles public transportation. Yet, taking a bus or train is not always the most direct route, and it costs money. Biking can be more direct, and it is free. I suspect that is the reason why so many Japanese people ride bikes everywhere. It is not unusual to see a grandmother on a bike, a man in a suit cycling to work, or a chic woman pedaling to a social gathering. It is also common to see women cycling with their children strapped to a rear bicycle seat. They make biking look so functional and weather proof. I have seen many people using their cellphones while biking (considering my record, I will refrain from doing so), and when it rains, people carry an umbrella to stay dry. Biking suits all occasions. Yesterday, I witnessed a young guy pick up his date on a bike, and they rolled merrily along... Oh young, summer love...
I am adjusting to life in Japan. I hope I can learn to be a cycling master like the Japanese, despite my slippery past. However, some things will be hard to change. For example, the fact that I don't speak Japanese will be my biggest challenge. This week I am allowing myself to finish setting up my apartment, but next week I will start on my Japanese lessons. Until I develop some sort of successful communication in Japanese, I will resort to smiling. Everyone understands a smile. I'm not sure how it happened, but my smile has evolved to express gratitude, contentment, happiness or worry. People respond well to my array of smiles. Unfortunately, I am having less success with gesturing. Too many gestures, or too little gestures, can confuse people. I'm not sure which one I'm doing, but all I know is that people don't always understand me when I gesture. That is usually my cue for smiling...
I like routine, and the faster I establish a routine in Japan, the better! Ironically, a routine here involves changes. Some changes I have embraced readily. For example, I love the fact that instead of signing documents by hand, the Japanese use a custom-made inkan, or stamp, to sign papers. Mine says “Kelly” in the kanji alphabet. Another change, as silly/trivial as it is, is accepting Japanese toilets. I am not reluctant to use a squatting toilet (though I have been mostly using the Western toilets at my school). However, I am not referring to those toilets, I am talking about the high-tech Japanese toilets. When you first glance at them, they seem like any other Western toilet. But, then you notice that there is a small panel of buttons to the right or left of the toilet. Those buttons serve to activate a stream of water, which will clean your bottom after you have finished using the toilet. It is a bit strange and I am almost (almost) afraid of admitting it, but I think it is a great invention. Ok, that is as far as I will go on the discussion of toilets.
We are all creatures of habit, but change is good for us. It makes us less “stuffy”, so to speak. It is interesting to see how we react to it, though...
It is raining. I know I will get used to life in Japan, and I am well under my way as I discover Japanese culture. Already, I have a deep appreciation for the kind Japanese people. I can tell that this will be a rewarding experience. Yet, a part of me feels rebellious, even as I write this. Rain is common in Japan, and it rains frequently in my city. But, rain reminds me of France. It transports me to memories of hiding from the rain underneath a bridge in Lyon, or of taking refuge behind a Parisian building as I enjoy a warm crêpe nutella... Sigh......... Alright, I admit it, the sound of rain here is quite unique. While it sounds the same as it hits the concrete floors and the buildings, I can hear cicadas humming through the rain, lamenting or praising it, I do not know, but I hear them. Yes, it is different, but for now I will indulge the rebel in me, and allow Edith Piaf to serenade me while I sit here and listen to the rain. “...Quand il me prend dans ses bras, il me parle tout bas, je vois la vie en rose...”
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Amagasaki-Shi
ALT: Assistant Language Teacher
JET: another name for ALTs
Yesterday was quite eventful. We left the lively city of Tokyo. All of the anxious, excited and nervous JETs headed out to their assignments, with their prefecture group. Some traveled by airplane, others on bus, and some by train. The Hyogo Prefecture JETs and I rode on a bus to the Tokyo train station, took the bullet train, or the shinkansen, to the Shin-Osaka train station, and took another bus to the Prefectural Board of Education, where we were finally picked up our supervisors or teachers.
I was picked up by two English teachers from my base school, Itami Nishi Senior High School. We talked on the car ride to the school, and they asked me about my family and me. I was glad that they were so easy to talk to, and of course, polite. Japanese people are very polite and nice. When we arrived at the school, I met some of the other teachers and saw my desk/working area. We then picked up my luggage, and we left to go see my apartment.
The apartment. We drove away from Itami City and into Amagasaki City. My apartment is only about a fifteen minute ride from school. At one of the main intersections, the teacher turned into a smaller street. I was nervous to see what my apartment would look like. We started slowing down as we approached some pretty apartment buildings, and I kept thinking to myself, “please, let those be it...” To my dismay, we drove right past them. Instead, we arrived in front of this older, gray colored set of apartment buildings. Although I was not impressed, I did not allow myself to react negatively. I remember that I wasn't very impressed with my apartment building in Lyon (technically Villeurbanne), but fell in love with the spacious apartment. With that in mind, I entered the apartment building and we lugged my heavy bags up to the second floor, and I held my breath as I opened the door with my just-handed-to-me set of keys. The door was heavier than I expected, and when I finally got to look inside, I must admit, my heart sank. It wasn't the extremely small size that made my heart plummet, it wasn't the ancient appliances that disappointed me, and it wasn't even the lack of furniture that made me want to cry. Simply, the apartment looked so lonely and so empty, and that made me want to sit in a corner and cry.
Yet, I didn't cry, and that was because there were two teachers ready to show me how everything in the apartment worked. They showed me how to turn on the gas for the shower and the kitchen sink, and they showed me how to work my washing machine. I just noticed today that I have no oven, and that I forgot to ask them how the single stovetop works... Anyways, after leaving my giant suitcases in the apartment (which made it look smaller haha), they took me to the grocery store. One of the teachers was proudly showing me the wide selection of fish, and which ones Japanese people think are the tastiest. I had told him that I was a vegetarian, but I think he forgot. However, I took note for those of you that plan on visiting me. :) I told them that I would do grocery shopping later, but that I wanted to get some items for breakfast. He looked very puzzled when I chose milk, yogurt, bananas, a grapefruit, and cereal. I caught him looking at the basket, and I repeated that I was choosing foods for breakfast. He then said, “Ahh, it's because you are a vegetarian!” I wanted to giggle. Yes, I eat cereal, fruit and yogurt for breakfast, because I am a vegetarian... He seemed enlightened and led me to the bread section to show me pastries that I could eat for breakfast. I asked him for his favorite, and he recommended an apple pastry. I just ate it as a snack, but if he asks, I will tell him that it tasted delicious in the morning with my milk, fruit and cereal =D
After the supermarket and after we dropped off my groceries at the apartment, they took me to a Udon restaurant. They bought me a giant bowl of cold Udon, with vegetable and soft boiled egg tempura on the side. DELICIOUS! One of the teachers explained to me that whereas it is impolite to slurp in America, the Japanese slurp while eating soup. They set the example, and when I tried to imitate them, the closest I could get to slurping was a whistling sound, and I still managed to “slurp” soup broth all over my shirt. Note to self: must ignore most important rule of eating soup in the United States, and master slurping. I could really get used to this...
The teachers were so kind to me, that it made it even more difficult to hold back my tears. I felt so grateful to them. They had just met me, and yet, they were going out of their way to help me and make me feel welcomed. I wanted to cry as I got out of the car, but instead I thanked them and smiled. However, once the car was out of sight, the tears came out at full force. I climbed the steps, and in front of my door, one of my American neighbors, whom I had gotten in contact with before coming to Japan, had dropped off some silverware, some shower towels, and a heater. When I read the little note she had left on top of the pile, I started crying even harder. I don't know what it is about kindness, but it has its way of making me so emotional. I started unpacking my things, but I didn't know where to start. I had no closet to put my clothes in, and no desk to start organizing my papers.
Then, I was really “a mess”. At orientation, a former JET gave a speech about his experience in Japan. He spoke about the emotional roller coaster that most ALTs go through, and the common experiences. He shared a story about moving into his new apartment. He had had a similar story like mine, where the teachers picked him up, took him grocery shopping, and then left him at his apartment to get settled in. As he unpacked, he was listening to a CD that one his friends from home had made him. It was mostly techno music. However, the final track on the CD was, “You've Got a Friend in Me,” from the movie Toy Story. It was such a silly song, one that he and his friends joked about and almost made fun of, yet, when it came on, he started crying for the whole three to four minutes of the song. For this tough, and tall American, that was a large display of unexpected emotions. So, when I finally got myself to stop crying, nevermind the fact that my episode lasted twenty minutes, I thought that I was finished crying. Wrong.
I wasn't being very successful in unpacking, so I decided to go introduce myself to the other ALT in my apartment complex. She had renewed her contract and had started her second year. I rang the doorbell and when she answered the door, I introduced myself and asked if I could come in. She let me in and as I started to ask her about herself, I started sobbing again. I tried to stop myself, but it didn't work. Poor girl, I wouldn't have known what to do if I had been her. This is somewhat how the beginning of our “conversation” went:
Me: Hi! I'm Kelly, I sent you an email.
Her: Hi! Yeah, I was wondering when you would come by.
Me: smiling May I come in?
Her: sure!
Me: So, where do you come from? I suddenly started to cry
Her: Ohh... ummm... well, my family lives in New Jersey...
Me: still crying Nice! Is that where you lived before you came here? Pitiful attempt at trying to stop myself from crying. Crying continues. Sorry, I don't mean to cry, I just moved in, and it's a bit hard to arrive to an empty apartment. I sort of stop crying. So yeah...
Her: Looks really concerned, I can tell she's trying to decide if comforting me will only make it worse. Oh, well I was born in Southern California...
Me: Oooooh, where? Crying starts again...
Our conversation went on like that for about five minutes, until I finally stopped crying. I deserve an award for “The Most Dramatic Performance”. Only, I wish I had been acting, and that it hadn't happened in front my new friend. What a way to make a first impression... Either way, it was nice to have company, and I honestly felt better after talking to her, errr and crying. I stayed over for about an hour, used her internet, and excused myself for the umpteenth time for crying. She helped me carry a bag of cooking utensils that my predecessor had left with her, including a rice cooker that is so efficient, that apparently it can almost launch itself into space. I look forward to using said rice cooker.
On second thought, and after seeing how she had decorated hers, my apartment didn't seem so bad. In fact, I look forward to decorating it and making it “so me.” Since it is so bare and small, the possibilities are endless...
My apartment was cool when I entered, since I had turned on the air conditioning earlier, but I felt the need to shower, since I was sticky from the humidity and the day's travel. My new friend had told me that bugs were not a problem, but I still closed the windows. Yet, as I drifted off to sleep, I still kind of felt itchy... scratchy, scratchy.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Expectations.
I have a tendency to set a lot of goals. My logic is that if I do not reach them all, then succeeding in some is a lot, since the list is large to begin with. Yay, mind tricks!
With that in mind, here are a few of the many that I hope to achieve in the following year:
Learn Japanese.
Learn how to play guitar.
Retain my French!
Stay active / get in shape.
Learn to cook (better).
Figure out which grad programs to apply to.
Take the GRE.
Travel!
Stay in contact with people... err, more like be better about staying in touch with people.
Voilà. Those are some of my most important goals. I'll keep you posted.
Bien à toi,
Kelly
With that in mind, here are a few of the many that I hope to achieve in the following year:
Learn Japanese.
Learn how to play guitar.
Retain my French!
Stay active / get in shape.
Learn to cook (better).
Figure out which grad programs to apply to.
Take the GRE.
Travel!
Stay in contact with people... err, more like be better about staying in touch with people.
Voilà. Those are some of my most important goals. I'll keep you posted.
Bien à toi,
Kelly
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Japan books.
This message has been sent using the picture and Video service from Verizon Wireless!
New blog.
I thought that it'd be a great idea to blog once I'm in Japan.
I also thought that I should have one up and running as of now.
Only a little over a month left. Excited. Nervous!
bien à toi,
Kelly
I also thought that I should have one up and running as of now.
Only a little over a month left. Excited. Nervous!
bien à toi,
Kelly
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