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...
Friday, August 27, 2010
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...”
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