Amanohashidate, and the new pilgrimage

I use the word pilgrimage pretty liberally in my thinking and even in writing. To me, it typically means a journey with some spiritual significance attached. So my bike ride to Iwa Jinja that one day was a pilgrimage in my head. My trip to Omizutori at Nigatsugo was a kind of pilgrimage. At that time, in March, when fellow writers’ group member T-rav and I stood shivering in the dark cold of 2am Nara, I got a temple book separate page to commemorate the event (the event which I see I did not post about.. to be rectified). T-rav explained that he had a temple book so he could get it calligraphied at the temples he visited as he traveled about in Kansai; he’d gotten it at our nearby Engyo-ji (on top of Mt. Shosha, where they filmed the Last Samurai). I resolved to get such a book for myself.

Our trip to Amanohashidate was not a pilgrimage. It was a last-minute planned daytrip that almost got canceled on threat of rain. We packed our rain boots and ourselves into Robin Red and set off for this one of the three great sights of Japan.

The normal way to view Amanohashidate is to stand with your back to it, grab your ankles, and look at it upside-down between your legs. This makes it look like it’s in the sky, thus making it look more like the “bridge to heaven” it is supposed to be. It takes a pretty nice dose of imagination to make it look like that, but the landform itself is pretty ridiculous and therefore awesome.

From 2011_05_21

From 2011_05_21

We arrived and parked at the south end, and went up to the viewpoint there, before walking around the temple Chion-ji. We had lunch, and walked across the narrow landmass to the north side. It was surreal, like walking in a park with pine trees and the sea lining... both sides of the path. The water was gorgeous and clear and cold, and had jellyfish. 

From 2011_05_21

From 2011_05_21

At the north end, we walked through Kono Shrine and up toward the other viewpoint (we bought dual tickets, good for both chairlifts). At the top of the chairlift, we decided to go on foot up to the other temple, Nariai-ji, rather than take the bus. This was a mistake. We sweated dragged ourselves all the way up to the temple, and not without a susumebachi sighting (listen, I'm not skittish about bugs, but those things are effing scary. YOU try being possibly allergic to bees and then seeing one that is two freaking inches long and called "yak killer").

From 2011_05_21

We had a little time at Nariai-ji to look around and cool off. A temple lady (priestess?) came and asked if we had walked up, and warned us not to miss the bus back, since a baby bear had been spotted recently near the road, and there were worries that its mother would be hanging around. I went into the temple and there found temple books for sale. I leafed through the "look-at" copy of the one with watercolor images of different Kansai temples. I spotted Engyo-ji. I had been wanting to buy a temple book for a while, and it was nearing time to go, so I took the book to the window to get it purchased, calligraphied, and stamped.

From 2011_05_21

The same woman who had warned us about the bus and the bear tried to ascertain whether I understood what I was buying. I assured her I did. I was lying. When I got home, I looked up the kanji on the front of the book and discovered that what I'd bought was, actually, a pilgrimage book.

Because. Duh. Who else needs a temples book, anyway? To me, the most famous temple pilgrimage in Japan is the Shikoku 88 Temple Pilgrimage. The book I got is the Kansai (that I had been able to read) thirty-three (that too) Kannon (nope!) pilgrimage. The temple at the south end of Amanohashidate, for example, is not included in the book.

Let me start by saying, I know so little about Buddhism it's kind of ridiculous, being the religion enthusiast that I am, living where I do. So it was a delightful surprise to learn that Kannon is the Japanese name for Guanyin, the goddess of mercy.

Hmm... where have I heard about a goddess of mercy before? Oh right!

From Winter Vacation Part II: Penang

And Kek Lok Si was where I bought the two wooden bracelets I wear a lot (now when you glance through photos of me, see if I'm wearing them).

Easily spotted here.

From Okinawa Take Two

They were advertised as "avoid evils wood" and are inscribed with little kanji.

So I was like, sweet, I accidentally got myself maybe on a pilgrimage (which is kind of, it turns out, what happens to the character in that novel I'm kinda working on?), and I do like it when stuff comes together... so I thought, I'll do a bit more research and see what I decide.

The next day, meaning, the day after Amanohashidate, I went out to Kobe for an art gallery opening featuring the work of some JETs I know...

From 2011_05_22

On the train home, I was sitting in the jump seat (the little pull-down seat) when an old dude got on the train, and you do not (as a 25 year old) just sit there staring at the old dude who is standing, even on the long stretch between Kobe and Akashi, sorry, so I got up and he sat down, and then I noticed this poster, and did my best to read it.

From 2011_05_22

Because the parts I could read were west-country, and thirty-three, and the picture was of Nariai-ji, where I'd just bought my temple book, and the other picture was of the Kannon image, which I freshly knew is only displayed every 33 years. I wasn't sure (and still am not) if the poster was just promoting the idea of going on the pilgrimage tour, or announcing the extension of transportation lines toward Nariai-ji, or some other thing.

I do know that I have a newfound curiosity about Buddhism, Kannon, this travel, and in my spare spare time, I will be looking into it.

Some days, I feel like my job is not real. This has a lot less to do with its temporary status than with what I am doing at that given moment.

Yesterday, I thought, what the hey, I'll ride my bicycle (which was at Big Elementary, having been left there post-Autumn-festival by me upon being offered a car ride home with another JET) to Small Elementary. It's not really all that far up the valley from my other schools.

It is, however, uphill all the way. I have a lot of leeway when it comes to what time I arrive at Small Elementary, because it's so out of the way, and regular buses don't go up that road. If I make the connections the way I am supposed to, I hit the schoolyard about the time first period is starting. If I'm lucky, they will have left first period free, and I can teach the other five after taking a minute to get my materials in order and have a cup of coffee.

If I'm not lucky, I have to hit the ground running and dash off to third or fifth grade; hopefully I have all the materials in hand, but if I am hoping to dig flashcards out of the textbook flashcard box, I end up feeling lame for running late to class. The kicker is, they generally don't warn me, so I don't know until I walk in and look at the schedule on the front board whether I get 40 minutes of chill time or if I am already late.

If I drive myself there, which is against the rules (but come ON.. on the occasions when they DO warn me that I have a first period class, I can't just show up late, knowing that some of my materials are buried in boxes in their office), I kind of feel chagrined for obviously flouting the rules set down for me. If I get there at 8:20 instead of 8:35, I am clearly disobedient.

Anyway, there I was, red-faced and sweating in the cool October air, pushing my bike up the hill after whatever point I gave up trying to pedal. I couldn't help but enjoy the quaint view of persimmon trees and rice fields, wildflowers and lovely houses along the way. It was basically like taking a stroll when the other teachers are having their morning meeting. Kind of weird. Or awesome. Unprofessional? Maybe childish. But also special.

The weather yesterday resolved itself into perfection just in time for morning recess, so I ignored my physically demanding schedule and went outside to play. During my planning period, I took a walk up the hill behind the school and found the path to the little shrine at which I'm always staring when I use the stairwell. It's kind of like being in your own little world, but taking breaks from that to teach a bunch of classes. Or else, being in teaching world, but taking frequent forays out into something else.

Either way, it doesn't feel like a real job, days like that.

Today, Wednesday, which has rapidly become my get-shit-accomplished day (I generally have one or no classes on Wednesday... every other day I have four to six), my VP reminded me that these reports for CLAIR are due tomorrow. I made a halfhearted attempt to tell him that the reports are optional, and then sat down to do them in true I-went-to-college-and-can-bust-out-reports-like-whoa form. I'm at my desk, makin' outlines and mapping ideas and I feel like this is a lot more like what real office people do. Meaning, I feel like my job is "real." I've got a whole list of things to do. It sort of brings out the businessperson in me, though, and I don't dislike it.

I think the low pressure of yesterday would, were it every day, eventually cause me to explode. While the high pressure of today would, were it every day, eventually cause me to implode.

Silver-Lined Week: Shikoku, roads and rafting

The second half of the silvery week was piggybacked onto the AJET white-water-rafting trip in the Oboke Canyon. This event was just Saturday and Sunday, but since Thursday was a holiday, some of us decided it would be excellent to take Friday off and create a four-day-weekend. Some of us managed to do this without using any actual nenkyuu (allotted vacation time) because they might have had to work on a day they were supposed to be off. Yes I was proud of that engineering of schedule.

We drove to Shikoku through Okayama, like this:

View Larger Map

I was the only driver, and the rainy trek to Takamatsu was not really a big deal. The tolls were lighter than our 30-year-old map book led us to expect (6450 to cross the bridge?!), and the udon was pretty delicious, yes. It was September 23rd, and the first official day of fall. Since we'd spent the previous weekend wearing shorts and sweating through our tank tops, we were surprised to find the air a bit chilly, and wished we'd brought jeans.

The rain dampened our ambitions to explore Takamatsu's offerings at first, but as it let up we did manage to get to Ritsurin Koen, one of the largest garden parks of its kind. We missed out on the Shikoku Mura museum, and only caught the sunset from the 84th of the 88 temple pilgrimage, Yashima-ji.

We made our way back to the city below, re-found our hotel (which was conveniently located just across from the station... except that we were driving), and sought out some awesome yakiniku dinner. We crashed fairly early and hoped the following day would be clear.

It was! Armed with my driving skillz and my expert navigator Lester, we headed south for the Iya valley, home of the vine bridges, our next target. The more touristed (and accessible by bus or train) west Iya valley had some vine bridges, yeah, but WE had a CAR and damned if we weren't going to see the less accessible but more-awesome sounding east side of the valley. We picked out the most direct-looking route on the map and headed east.

Do me a favor and look at how squiggly this line actually is (zoom a bit maybe):

View Larger Map

...Yeah. Turns out, this treacherous mountain pass road winds and switchbacks up and up a mountain (at the top of which we took lovely photos). It was unbelievable and took forever. Then when it was time to go back down, the road became a loosely assembled collection of potholes. When we finally, finally reached east Iya and picked up a tourist map, it labeled our path as "National route but treacherous; recommend prefectural route." We laughed at that, but it was seriously the worst road I have ever seen. My little kei-SUV held her own, though, and we didn't even need 4-wheel drive!

The vine bridges of east Iya were awesome and scary, and I encourage you to look at those photos (link forthcoming). We pulled on our warmer clothes as it had clouded up.. in my case, the only pair of sweatpants I brought, and the only light jacket I brought, both of which would see much more action than I had anticipated. Seriously, I thought Shikoku was to the south of my town.

On the drive back, while we made for the prefectural route, I was startled/creeped out by what I thought was a person, which turned out to be a mannequin. Suddenly, we were surrounded by them, and Lester cried, "Pull over!" We had pulled over many a time during the trip so far, to admire a waterfall, to examine an oddity, or to let another car use the road. In a surreal and otherwise deserted-looking area, we mingled with puppet-people. I bought a couple mugs from the table in the center of this strange artist's haven, and we went on our way.

Adina and I were signed up to stay at the guest house associated with the rafting company to which we would be patrons the following day. Our fellow JET group members were coming in that night in a couple of rental vans; it would be very late and they would be sleeping in those vans overnight. Adina and I agreed that this was a hideous idea and were glad not to be part of it.

The photos for this weekend from my own camera are here. We also got our hands on the waterproof camera photos, which can be found here. (Yeah, still too lazy to post them one by one.. treat yourself to a slideshow moment and enjoy them en masse?)

What follows is my writeup of the JET event for the Hyogo Times:

Kicking It in the Canyons

It was my first AJET Shikoku raft trip, and I had an absolute blast. My traveling companion and I decided to take Friday off and make an extra-long four-day weekend of it, so I can’t speak to the transportation experience of the other riverbound JETs. But the three of us north Hyogonians spent Friday night at the Happy Guest House, an affiliate of Happy Raft, where we cooked ourselves breakfast-for-dinner and enjoyed the company of some Germans (who assured us we were in for a real, albeit chilly, treat) and some adventure guides employed by Happy Raft.

Saturday morning, dressed in the only-pairs-of-long-pants-we-brought (we didn’t anticipate the immediacy of fall in such a southerly place as Shikoku), we met up with the rest of the Hyogo group (there were thirteen of us in total) who had apparently slept in the vans which had carried them to Shikoku. Saturday was our full day raft tour, so we sipped on the provided tea and then suited up in our provided wetsuits, helmets, and lifejackets. One raft seats six to eight people or so, and we were sharing the river with several other Happy Raft groups, as well as some boats from other companies. The rafting guides were from all over the world, but there was a predominance of Japanese, Australian, and New Zealander guides. It was a lot of fun to talk normal speed (and often curse-word-laden) English in the visible middle of nowhere Japan.

The bus trundled us downriver to the load-in point. The guides explained that this late in the season, the water level is far below what it is in July, and while this makes some of the rapids more technical and less “fun,” it also reveals some awesome rock formations usually covered by the water. In any season, though, the waters of the Yoshino river are an astonishing clear-green; I could have spent all afternoon just taking in the scenery.

But that would never do! The wind was strong and actually managed to push us upriver if we remained inactive, so there was paddling to be done. In calm areas, we went swimming, tried boat stunts under direction by our adventure guide, or attempted to pull other JETs out of their boats.

Lunch was an all-you-can-eat bagel buffet, after which the sky unfortunately clouded over and left us all shivering in our various soggy forms of footwear. Some more paddling warmed us up, though, and by the end we were climbing the cliff face to jump into the river. Some JETs may or may not have faceplanted off the highest possible jumping rock. My own jump was only like 12 meters or so, which I assure you was Scary As Shit.

That afternoon, we all bus-napped back to Happy Raft for some tea, snacks, and slideshow before setting out more or less en masse to find an onsen to clean and warm us up. From there, we drove to that night’s accommodations, which surprised me both by being on some ridiculous mountain roads barely accessible to even my kei-SUV, let alone the buses we later saw, and by being perhaps the most kick-ass place I have ever stayed.

Due to some misunderstandings, the owner of the beautiful log cabin had expected us the night before. We drove up the narrow, winding switchbacks and joked about how this place better be worth it, and on our arrival, we were presented with plates and plates of meat (from the meat cows) and vegetables for our grilling, and half a wheel of homemade gouda cheese. There was fresh milk in the fridge for the morning, too (from the milk cows). And a flatscreen TV, and a karoke machine; beer cost extra, but we were just glad she had some, because we were NOT going back down that mountain to get it. The lodge slept the 12 of us comfortably, and because of its layout, is better suited to groups of about that size.

Day two was the half-day canyoning excursion in the Musasabi canyon. I had never been canyoning and did not even know what “canyoning” was. Canyoning, it turns out, is awesomeness distilled to a crystal clear purity. We suited up in extra layers of wetsuits (against the chill) and scrambled down over the rocks to begin treating the waterfalls as waterslides. We jumped, slid, and ziplined our way through part of a gorge few people get to see. More rocks, and trees, and moss, and of course, ridiculously awesome waterfalls and crystal-tinted water.

Canyoning is sort of a one-person-at-a-time thing, so the groups for this are much smaller than for rafting. Our JETs had to split between the morning and the afternoon canyon trips to fit into the other bookings with Happy Raft.

I definitely want to go again, perhaps with more careful planning, and maybe in the higher summer when it’s warmer and the waters are high. Happy Raft gets a thumbs up from this happy camper.

After lunch with our canyon group, Adina and I hit the road home, thoroughly worn out and happy to have gone.

Akashi Absolved

Akashi is a city almost-to-Kobe if you are coming from the west along the coast of Japan. It boasts a beautiful bridge to Awaji Island, some castle ruins, and its own style of takoyaki.

It is also the home of the driver's license center for Hyogo prefecture. So for some of us, it never mattered what Akashi had to offer. We were going to hate it anyway.

You can't associate a place with a long, painful drive, terrible wastes of time and vacation days, personal failure, and utterly ridiculous rules... without a little resentment.

I went back again on Thursday, to do battle with the beast.

Every time I had to go to Akashi (and take the requisite entire day off work, because it just takes that long), I labeled it on my calendar. My first attempt at the driving test was called "AKASHI - the practical" ... the second attempt was called "the finale" (aren't we hopeful!)... and the third attempt, "the charm" (as in, ", third time is").

I packed lighter for this go than ever before, since I would be carrying it all the whole way, rather than just putting it in the car. I had previously overpacked in a sort of heinous way, taking my heavy computer and all manner of things to do to the center, therefore condemning myself to carry them around on my back through the walk-through part of the course. I was much more judicious. Wallet, yes. Book, yes (but just one paperback). Notebooks, no, dictionary, no, camera, hell no, who wants memories of Akashi?

After managing to choose the wrong rain-fighting option (I really thought the poncho would work on a bike), and managing forget my paperwork (requiring another bike trip back to the apartment after getting off the bus at the post office, to which it traveled all of 50 meters), the morning was off to a splendid start. I roped the Other Georgian into driving me to the train station and at least managed to have nice conversations all the way there while my pants dried in the car.

The rest of the trip was more or less successful, only taking the wrong bus from Akashi station once. I made it to the testing center in the nick of time (according to the clock; the test starts at 12:55.. you can walk the course from 11:45 or so until then. But for some reason you have to be there between 10 and 10:30) and took my place on the seats in front of the endless test video, to read of course. I did watch some of the video and by now was able to decipher some of the information contained therein. They list some of the automatic fails for the test, such as "driving in the wrong lane," "running a stop sign," "collision or near collision with other vehicles on the course," and generally "being all over the road." They might have said something about "not looking at the correct mirrors in the correct order," too. "Not wearing proper shoes" was another part of the video (Jermaine-hostile shoes only!).. I walked the course twice at 11:45, then went in to treat myself to some mediocre (I'm generous) DMV-cafeteria soba noodles.

At test time, I was last in my section of line. This gave me the benefit of not having anyone ride along as passenger for my trial (you can sit in the back and observe the test of the person ahead of you in line). But also meant I had to wait a bit longer before my turn. Although I knew that this time I really had the test in the bag (after spending an hour with my good ol' driving instructor chanting "1, 2, 3, 4" as I checked each of the looking spots in the correct order for each type of turn again and again), I still found myself experiencing that very special brand of anxiety that brings its friend nausea along to hang out. I briefly considered throwing up in the grate drain to one side of the course 'road,' but decided against it.

The first girl received her talking-to inside the car while still in the driver's seat. That means fail. The guy ahead of me drove with such caution and ginger care, but I was worried for him because for all his fearful slowness, he didn't always check the bike spot right before turning, and goodness knows that'll disqualify the shit out of you! In the end, he was "too slow." Yes really. Fail. My turn.

I was passing the hell out of the test, and I knew it; I wasn't even rattled when I saw the lady making notes on the clipboard, even though writing = mistakes, generally. I could afford a few points. Things got dicey in the crank turn, as I reversed three times and was convinced right at the end that I was caught between the curb and a fourth reverse (4 times will disqualify you... one is fine, but two or three just loses you points)... although I made it out of there, I was scared that my point loss in the crank would cripple me right into a failing score. That's basically the end of the test, though, and it's a good thing, because my confidence was slipping.

I pulled carefully up to the finish curb and resignedly pulled the break, put it in park, turned off the car. "Lemmon-san," she began, and I turned my plaintive eyes on her, ready to hear my new set of "advice" about this test.

"Could you get out and come around to this side?" she asked. I blinked. That totally means pass (so long as you exit the car properly-- to see that last bit is why they do it). I exited the car properly and came around so she could tell me I'd passed. Happily returned inside to wait with the only other dude who'd passed that day (he turned out to be a friend of a friend, and resident of Himeji, so how about that?). They brought us upstairs at 2:30 and gave us a piece of paper that said we'd be getting our licenses at about 4:20, after the processing began at 2:40. I shrugged because at least the waiting was worth something now.

The man told us to be there at 3:30 and that we had free time til then. The Other Guy Who Passed pointed out that this suggested they were running almost an hour behind schedule. They had mentioned that they had a "lot of people" that day.. meaning, I guess, first-time drivers who had passed. We didn't have anywhere else to go, so the guy and I sat there for a bit, until another officer-looking man appeared and had us fill out a form. A lecture began to take place in the area right in front of us, but we were ushered into the photo booths along with about ten people who did NOT look like fresh drivers. We then waited another few minutes, paid our fee, and were handed our licenses by 3pm. I guess they rushed us to the front of the process since they were already running behind and would rather deal with us separately than along with the batch of newbies.

Whatever the reason, we were actually released an hour and a half earlier than we normally would have been. I was so happy that by the time we had bussed back to the train station, I felt like making something of this "vacation" day I'd had to take for this, so I parted with my new Himeji test-passin' friend and followed the signs that said "Akashi Castle Ruins."

Because, you know, castle ruins? Are kind of my thing.

Akashi has a gorgeous park. I was sort of sad I had tossed the camera. It had forest paths and ruins and athletic fields and ponds, and lots of kids and old people and dogs, and even one making-out couple (a rarity here). I felt like I kind of came back to myself there, because it was like (and not like) Centennial park in Nashville, and it was also just my kind of thing. At some point, upon hearing the ke-chi-ke-cha of trains at the nearby station, I actually began to sing out loud ("Train in the Distance"). I'd been really anxious and sad since returning to Japan, but being able to get out and explore just a little bit made me remember better why I wanted to come here in the first place, and why I put myself through the silly mess of dealing with Akashi too.

In the stone walls and bike trails and wooden benches, from the top of the castle-not-anymore-a-castle, with a view of the ultramodern looking Awaji bridge, treetops, the train station, ships on the water, and mountains beyond, I found it in my heart to forgive Akashi for our past encounters.

July!

Well it’s July. I know that doesn’t mean the rain will stop, necessarily (it wasn’t, you know, in any way dry previous to June anyway); in fact, it probably just means it will get hotter and more uncomfortable. I was waiting to see giant fans appear in classrooms, twin counterparts to the big fiery heaters of winter.

They aren’t coming. And in a way that makes sense. I imagined the awesome whirlwind of flying paper that every room would become if we put fans all over the place. So instead imagine for me the kind of sweltering sauna that will exist if we don’t; I don’t have to imagine it, because I will be experiencing it myself.

June was kind of a rough month, which is unfortunate because I like the way it sounds. Early summer, so full of promise. But the promises kept were bugs, rain, humidity, mold, and summer colds (TWO in one month—coming in pairs I suppose, like the dreaded mukade)… two failed driving tests, too. My first real bout of full-on cultural fatigue!

And let me tell you. I like Japan. I’m glad I’m here. But this week? I HATE JAPAN AND WANT IT TO LEAVE ME THE EF ALONE! It’s too hot. It’s too humid. It lacks proper air conditioning. It hates me because I’m white. Its policies make no damn sense. Its children see no need to learn English and so scoff at my endeavors.

It is weird to me to see the summer arrive in full force like this. I can’t believe it’s been a whole year almost, since I arrived. It’s flown by, really, and yet I know I’m a totally different person (yadda yadda…) both in work and just life in general. I think that’s what made my snap of culture shock so bad. About now, lots of new JETs-to-be are trying to pack and daydreaming about the mysterious far eastern country they are about to invade. And lots of ex-JETs-to-be (that is, the leavers) are packing their stuff, puzzling over shipping rates, and thinking about the stuff they will miss when they have to go.

And I, for eleven months, have enjoyed this place, and mentally defended it against those who would naysay its ways, and found reasonableness in its ridiculous. I feel like I’ve been stabbed in the back. I defended you, Japan. And you betrayed me. I bore the sick cold of your winter, and you repay me with a hundred percent humidity and dishes STILL WET in the drying rack after I get home at the end of the day. I dotted every i and crossed every t (figuratively, of course) and took lessons and studied hard for your damn driving test and the “advice” at the end of the second failed attempt was “Winker, Eye, Hand – you are/were (the beauty of Japanese being that you can just leave out the verb) very skilled at this.” (So, why did I fail?) –--“Winker first, then eye, then hand.”

WNFjet said after his first failed test that it was just because they wanted him to fail, they found a reason to fail him. I shook my head, certain that there must have been a reason, no matter how much he didn’t want to admit it. Because I knew I screwed up mine, so I mean, own it when you make a mistake and don’t act like people are out to get you. But maybe they ARE. (I would be, if I were testing WNF; I would be like, ‘you failed because your smarminess level was too high’) I’m totally up for saying “my bad” and “doing my best next time” when I have messed up; this time was really hard because I did a damn good job and still failed. Upsetting.

Pronounced once again unworthy to drive, I hung my head in anger and shame, got into my car, and drove the two hours home. Please tell me the irony hurts you too.

What hurts more is looking at my carefully weighed and considered vacation days and knowing I have to spend another one on this horrible endeavor. I’m hoping I can get out of this.. my VP laughed at me at first when I told him I’d failed, and I gave my It’s Not Funny face. I don’t think I’ve ever pulled that face in this entire good-humored year. He assured me that it’s okay to take vacation days during August since it is summer vacation. I vehemently expressed my desire not to. I asked about last year’s random Obon festival days off. Whether we’d get such days this year, and when, and if I could have him help me reschedule my test (since the instructions for doing so are all in Japanese) for such days off. He told me not to think about it so seriously. “The summer vacation is.. you know. Summer vacation.” This cryptic statement gives me hope.

So I’m scheduled for my THIRD TIME’S THE CHARM test after I get back from MY summer vacation (literally, “getting out of someplace” – I’ll be going to the US. Also, after the 1st of August I cannot legally drive and will be taking buses/trains to the test)… and I’m rather looking forward to the break. I also envy the kids their POOL class period when they have it. Damn.

Also, June is maybe the only unfortunate month in this country without a national holiday. Bring on July! Except the part where half my town’s JETs leave and get replaced with who knows what kind of riffraff. Leave off that part.

Addendum: while I was finishing up writing this, the principal of Big Elementary shut the windows and turned on the AC. I guess it becomes acceptable in July to do that. Someone tell the bus driver from this morning. JULY = HOT. YOU CAN USE AC. IT’S OKAY.

Second addendum: when I got home, the umbrella I bought this morning and then left leaning against a pole at the bus stop was still there, just chillin by the pole. I’m sure if it had been raining, someone would have stolen it. But I guess since it wasn’t, they didn’t. And this country ain’t so bad. Maybe.

I like [real] bananas

I keep hearing them talk about the upcoming to-ra-i-ya-ru week. I swear I thought it was “trial” only katakana-ized. Turns out, “try” is katakana, but “yaru” is just the other verb for “to do.”

Try-yaru week is when the second graders go out into the world and like.. work at jobs for a week. We ran into some at the Toyoko Inn where we stayed in like.. Hiroshima, or something. They were super cute.

Now our mice class is getting ready for theirs, toward the end of the month. I can only imagine the paperwork that goes into placing the students and prepping for all that.

I’m warming to the mice and they are warming to me. Most of them have finished writing their letters, although I’m well aware that the HS in America to which we’ll send them only has like four more days of school or something. I suppose they’ll have them when they get back from break..! I wish I had gotten my act together sooner, but alas.

I am eating Tokyo Banana omiyage from the cats’ class trip to Tokyo and Disney et al. I got a sweet Geiko-HelloKitty charm from the new school nurse. But from what I hear, Japanese people are crazy about the Tokyo banana little confections. I prefer real bananas. It’s kind of like grape-flavored things, and how they’re just not the same flavor as grapes. Only banana flavor might be worse.

I think the other souvenir tasty is full of redbean paste, though, which means it will be much more normally delicious. I’ll save it for tomorrow.

It is cool to be receiving omiyage I actually recognize, though.

In other news, it’s warm and zutto-rainy, and feels like springtime. The healthiness of my habits increases with the average temperature (to a point), so lately it’s been on the rise. More exercise and better food choices all ‘round.

Last week, I went to Akashi to conquer Stage One of Obtaining a Japanese Driving License. I don’t think my VP believed me when I told him how difficult it is (well, Stage Two is). Almost every foreigner fails at least once on the driving practical. A few famously failed like eight or ten times.

And not to be racist, but there are lots of people on the roads around here who totally cannot drive. That’s true in America, too, but I feel like if the test is going to be so freaking hard, it should mean your drivers are elite. But it’s like the SAT of driving tests. All it measures is how well you take a driving test full of nitpicky rules on a closed course. Everyone says, “oh, you’re a good driver, you’ll be fine.” I want to say, just because I am better than you doesn’t mean I’ll pass the test on the first try. But, that’s not a nice thing to say and would perhaps not further friendly relations betwixt my country and theirs. Even if it’s true.

I’m going to driving school this weekend, with a tentative reservation for the following weekend as well (CatJET took driving school three times but passed the test on her first go-round!)… so hopefully, that will help.

Akashi is supposed to be a fairly cool place, but I have a feeling way too many JETs remember it only as a place of waiting, and waiting, and inconvenience, and failure. I had thought to take a little tour of it the day I went, but the ‘easy’ part took way longer than I anticipated. So I didn’t.

In other news, my computer no longer has access to the network, which irritatingly means no printer and no internet access for me. I can use THAT COMPUTER at the desk no one sits at (where the teacher who quit used to sit).. basically I can use it anytime I want to, and I do when I need to print (I put my stuff on a flashdrive and ferry it over… this process is not foreign to me, from anytime I stay at my parents’). It’s still a pain in the ass.

Another part of me kind of likes it, as I am often overwhelmed by the immediacy of the internet. I have offline-gmail now, which means I can manipulate and respond to stuff and it gets uploaded the next time my computer connects to the interweb. And of course my blog client.

And of course I can study Japanese and write letters by hand, which I may do more of now that I will have a net of more free periods per week and a lot less internet.

Today is very comfortable.

Jermaine Goes to the Doctor

..twice.

I went first on Friday, after my school's nurse delivered her grave look and shook her head, saying it would heal faster with more medicine.

My thoughts were, hell yes, give me more medicine, because here's the thing about Jermaine/Jermaine-site/Yakedo: it was a hilarious story. But it is still there. It's gone from being a little hassle to being a big change in my life. I can't swim. I can't run. And now I am actually forbidden (well, advised not) to wear shoes with backs. It’s kind of not funny anymore.

It's not so much that it hurts or that it cramps my style beyond all bearing. I can bear it. It gets in the way, but not in such a way as to constitute a full blown emergency all the time. But. It is still there, and it's been nearly four weeks, and it's not anywhere near gone. That's the real issue. I have Jermaine fatigue.

It was in this spirit that I left for the doctor's office Friday afternoon. The clinic I went to before referred me to a skin clinic south of town, so on I went. The doctor went on in Japanese to me while I stared at him wide-eyed trying to catch whatever I could about how to make it go away. I don't think he said much about that, only it was all I cared about hearing. I know he said something about how they get a lot of yutanpo (hot water bottle) burn victims this time of year, and how they are slow to heal.

Which makes sense, slow burn, slow heal. Plus it's cold and the cold does not make you heal faster. But OH AM I EVER OVER THIS. He prescribed a cream and asked me to come back sometime the following week.

On the way out of the parking lot, just for good measure, I backed Robin Red into a blue pole, broke the taillight glass, got blue paint on the bumper and red paint on the pole. I'm just glad it wasn't another car there.

So, I went on Wednesday afternoon for my re-check, because by then it hurt more often, and looked worse, and this time they had me sit up on the bed thingy and suggested I not look, thought it 'shouldn't hurt'.. then the guy took out what looked like a tiny scalpel and pair of tweezers, and I thought he was about to remove the whole gross-looking layer of whatever-the-hell, so I braced myself for the equivalent of tearing off a scab, only times a zillion-- which made what actually happened feel like the breath of a gentle breeze. I’m rather amazed at the gentleness and dexterity with which he operated on that horrible mess of mine. I ended up staring in wide wonder because I guess I like watching horribly gross things happen to myself. He removed a few small pieces of the.. um.. like white-surface, then put some of that cream he's prescribed onto a gauze square and taped it on there. This time the cream burned a little, and I think maybe he created a path for the cream to reach the burn through the buildup or something.

GROSS I KNOW. Then he prescribed me two days worth of pillz which I am now taking. And I just want to do whatever it takes to get this thing gone as fast as I can. If they said "pour this into a tub of water and soak your foot in it for an hour," I'd do it. I don't care if it hurt.. I don't think they understand me here.. I don't want to necessarily have painful things happen to me in public, but I would totally go into my house and whimper and cry and keep my foot in that material, if they told me it would fix it.

It's part of my system of belief, that things worth having (like a wonder-drug to just effing cure Jermaine already) have to be earned (like through pain).

Just as an FYI, I've tried to just use the name "Jermaine" to refer to the blister. I named it because it was so tall and had a life all its own. Now the blister is gone, and the infected site remains.

To see a photo of Jermaine when Jermaine was still.. a blister.. please click here.

Please do not click there. It's gross. The later iterations, however, are so gross I did not even take photos.

 

EDIT: In retrospect, I think the surface area occupied by the current burn is smaller than Jermaine was. Which is a sort of comfort. Kinda.

not what I was going to write about

Someone tell me why some days I am the picture of existential panic and others I am as calm and happy as a snug little pet?

Wait, I think most of those days of perfect happiness start with a "Fri." That might help explain it a little.

Here we are and haven't seen the sun for a nice solid week. HULLO FEBRUARY.

But that wasn't what I was going to write about, no. Today is a Friday islanded between yesterday's national holiday (National Foundation Day), and Lupercal weekend (HAH - like I'm going to strip down and run through the streets of windy, frozen, rain-soaked Yamasaki), better known both in America and Japan as "Valentine's Day." But a steady stream of cloudcover has continued to roll across China and Korea to replace that which was overhead six seconds ago (yes, actually, yesterday I opened the front door and the wind immediately attempted to WREST IT FROM ME).

This Sunday is also the official start of the lunar New Year, and the Year of the (metal) Tiger officially begins! That's not the only double-whammy holiday this year.. as I was preparing my "Coming Events" board, I learned that both types of Easter fall on the same day (April 4th) this year, which only happens a couple of times a century or so.

None of this was what I was going to write about. Stop distracting me.

The plus side is, I can leave whenever I like today, because I drove myself to school. I didn't want to do this. I wanted to take the bus. I ran out of my house just in time to see it coming up the street, but I had no fear, for I've caught it at the corner before. I dashed across the street right in front of it actually.. the buses are pretty good about letting pedestrians cross. I guess this particular driver did not realize that my immense hurry was caused by none other than his arrival, and after I crossed the street, he drove on, with me staring after him sadly.

Then I felt really dumb, because having just stopped traffic to cross the street, I had to cross back to my own side. HAH. Damn. Today also happened to be the day the BOE returned their answer to my request to please let me drive my car only occasionally to work.. basically I am going to do that anyway, and I'd just like it to be legit if possible. They said if I am sick or injured it is okay. I guess I am currently injured... And for that I have to drive all the way back to Yama after work because I want to go to the doctor's. I showed the Jermaine site to the school nurse again and she said what must have been more or less "Yeah, that looks infected, maybe you should go get someone to give you some medicine for that mess." Excellent. In the meantime, ikebana which is normally Thursday was pushed to Friday. It would have been awesome to take the car today if I didn't have to go back to town and then come back out here for flower class.

The pains we take to keep beauty and life in our homes..! Speaking of keeping alive inside our homes.. my kerosene heater ran out of fuel yesterday and I was absolutely not going out front in that wet gale to attempt to refill it, and I was absolutely not going to fill it inside after the last time I tried THAT, so I just used the electric ones, which are passable, but which pale in comparison to my little champion.

None of this is even remotely close to what I was going to write about, at all.

Thanks for being here today, folks. It's time for me to do some Japanese HW and take myself to the doctor.

As per request of my brother (my actual, biological brother, mind you), I'm going to find a way to make the gross Jermaine photo optional in case you want to see it. I promise that you don't though; the girls asked to see it Superbowl Monday and were thoroughly grossed out.

Speaking of the Superbowl, I don't know whether to climb the walls in utter happiness or insist that I TOLD YOU the end was near and that 2012 gotta start somewhere, but I realize that perhaps not everyone grew up in a household where "When the Saints win the Superbowl" was interchangeable with "When pigs fly" or "When hell freezes over." So I chose the excitement option instead.

I still haven't managed to see the whole game, but I hope to eventually because what I did see was good, and what I heard about the second half was much better.

And now I really AM going to end this post so I can do whatever it was I said I was going to do.

in which the cold is vitally important: スキーが好き*！

Because without the cold we could not have things like snow. And I'm not talking, this time, about a dusting that would make Georgia proud. I'm talking about feet and inches (or I guess tens of centimeters?) of snow built up over days and days in the mountains of Hyogo. I'm talking about Hachikita.

Hachikita is a snow park. I joined Miri, her boyfriend, and his friend for an all-day adventure towards the frozen mountain slopes. The boys are veteran snowboarders who apparently go skiing and boarding all the freaking time. Miri went on a ski trip with her school this one time ten years ago. And I, well, I had never strapped on a pair of skis in my entire blessed life. (Georgia, remember? But no, not even water skis.) I was way too excited about the amount of falling I felt sure I was about to do.

Even the drive was an adventure; as we got farther north, it got snowier and snowier, until we pulled over into one of the shoulders provided for just this purpose and added snow chains to the tires.

By we, I mean the guys did. Notice that we are not alone. Cars all up and down this area were pulling over to put on these things.


We are now much safer.


Which is a good thing, because the road started looking like this.


And we started seeing REAL SNOW or something.

Our snowboarding friends helped us find our way to the rental shop so we could get outfitted with the works. I love snow pants and snow jacket so much, I want to own a set, so I can wear them all the time and be forever impervious to the winter wet.

Miss M is our model. Snowboard friends, background.

My friend Beau had advised me to take a ski class if it were available, so Miri and I signed up to diversify the learning group (it was us and like fourteen small children, most of whom seemed to be a lot better at not sliding down the gently sloping snow by mistake).

We are SNOW DOPLHIN.

My first attempt at walking in skis was perhaps the most painfully frustrating moment of my life. I found myself literally sliding farther and farther backward/downward with every motion made intending to go forward/upward. It was torturous.

Eventually I developed some kind of coping strategy to deal with the fact that my feet were suddenly way too long, heavy, and slippery for any practical movement. It required a lot of poling myself around, which I suspect will come back to haunt me tomorrow in the form of amazing shoulder ache.

Ski school did teach us some important things like how to slow, turn, stop, and all that business, although by the time it was over I was really itching to get out there and start falling. Miri was for some reason less keen on the falling idea. I think it's because she has a bad back (legit).

Our snowboarding friend, from the top of the littlest slope.

We took the tiny slope a few times, I with the mien of an intent seven-year-old, quietly hurrying back into the conveyor belt lift line whenever I reached the bottom because I had to go again. I failed to fall on this small and gentle slope. The snowboarders then coaxed us into trying the adjacent slope and that's where my real career began. That slope started with such a bang (in the form of a steep drop) that I immediately snowbanked myself. The only problem with falling is that when your feet are like five feet long it is a lot harder to stand the ef up. More than once I got myself to a crouching position, only to find I was speeding off again before I had even got my hands back around my poles. Any time I started to go fast, I would put the brakes on, and when that didn't work well enough to suit my sensibilities, I would just take a snow dive sideways. Because those waterproof pants are awesome.

Miri and I conquered the bench ski lift, too. By the end, I was hardly falling at all except when I snowbanked rather than run over a small child. I think that might make me a hero. Not sure.

Our hero rockets down the mountain, determined and unafraid. (Dramatization.)

Another group of friends is going to Hachikita tomorrow, but I'm not sure I'm up for another round so soon. I messed up my shoulder a little bit doing swim strokes improperly, and it's pretty upset at me now for this afternoon's ski adventure.

All in all, it was a good day.

*スキーが好き, or "sukii ga suki" is me trying to be clever and play on the fact that the first "sukii" means "skiing," and the second "suki" means "like." So, "I like skiing!"

in which the cold does not hurt

I went swimming on Wednesday. I have no idea how they keep the big glass-walled pool area warm enough for me and the entire winter-swim-school to run around half-naked and not die, but they do.

There's a certain freedom in wearing less clothes, and in not having to sort of huddle or hunch to be warm. The freedom of motion available in the water is even greater than normal since you don't have to worry as much about things like gravity.

Now all I have to worry about it that I don't actually know how to swim any strokes; I'm just faking it. But I did a few laps, and when I left the place I felt warmer, even though it had gotten dark and my hair was wet. There's an inner warmth that allows you to be careless (at least for a little while) of how high your socks are pulled up or whether your scarf is wrapped around you, without which warmth it sometimes doesn't even matter how bundled you are because you won't feel warm. It's like being on the run, or playing defensive chess. Working with the negative (try not to be cold) instead of the positive (try to be.. something else?).

Mostly, I think it has to do with whether you get to move your muscles and stretch your joints. Shit gets brittle in the cold. I've seen more plastic break in the last week than since I've been here. But the sauna was pretty awesome, too. 90C is really, really hot.

So I'm going to try to get in there on a fairly regular basis, and see if I can manage a bus schedule in the mix. I was able to go easily on Wednesday because I had to bring my car to school, so the lease office guy could come get it from me and change the tires, the oil, add steering fluid, install a CD player, etc. Lots of things to make my life better.

Thursday morning, I woke up with the impression that a warm front must have moved in overnight. But actually, what had happened was, it got even colder, and snowed.

A dusting of snow on my "yard."

A dusting of snow in Ichinan.

I got sent home early that day because all the other teachers had some kind of meeting in Yamasaki, so I went out for tea with The Other Georgian.

I decided I actually do like Japan after all.

Hiroshima Weekend

Spent another weekend on the travel-side. This time, Hiroshima.

Here is the breakdown of how that went:

Day 1 (Saturday):

Once we’ve got gas and directions, we leave by about 10. This is a roadtrip, so we caravan because we can’t all fit into one car. We take the expressway, which is like a hella expensive toll road (4750 to get to Hiroshima from our town), but cheaper than taking the Shinkansen (bullet train), especially when we split the cost. The mountain drive is absolutely gorgeous in the bright cool morning sunshine. After a few rest-area stops, caravan-style, we were in Hiroshima.

We arrived in the early afternoon, and quickly made our way to the sake festival outside of town, which is the reason we’ve gone this weekend. It was already in full-swing. We eat our way down the sidewalk (various meats on sticks, fried junk foods, etc.) to the actual sake-sample park, and some people inside are already passed out on the ground. It’s like 4pm or something. We start drinking sake, but I personally take it slow, partly because I don’t love the taste of sake and never have. Partly because, um, it’s like 4pm and I don’t want to be drunk.

There were a lot of foreigners at the festival (surprise?), and it was a beautiful afternoon. Half our group disappeared for a bit, but Jacquel (a girl from our Nashville departing group) turned up, so Heke and I talked to her for a bit. Then I was somehow eating udon by myself (it got chilly, so I grabbed a warm bite) and two Japanese guys invited me to share their table. They turned out to be medical students in Hiroshima, and really nice guys. Heke and I invited them to karaoke with us later, once the festival was over at 9 or so. Eventually we found our compatriots and made our various-states-of-sober way up to the train station. The train ride back was hard, being totally full of loud drunken foreigners. Our Japanese friends ended up having to go home, but they didn’t really fit in with the new group that had formed (our girls plus like four or five Marines). We went to karaoke with the Marines instead.

Day 2 (Sunday):

The next day, we went to Miyajima. Another bright and clear day, this time we spent it traversing the island and taking photos of its famous Tori. The rest of our group opted to take ropeway cars up the mountain, but I declared that I wanted to walk. I wandered around and found what I figured was the trail. Next to it, I found a much smaller trail headed in basically the same direction. So, I figured I’d take the one less travelled by.

It made a difference, but not the kind I was hoping for. I meant to meet my friends on the top (they’d given me a head start.. I really didn’t know what I was getting myself into, even without my.. um.. detour). I walked down the secluded path for quite a while, snapping photos as I went. I remembered JET-L saying the path was next to the water, along the river, and I was near a small stream. Eventually, though, my little path ended. I looked up the mountain and thought, maybe the real path is up there. And even though there isn’t an established way to climb, I could probably make it. I could hear voices above of other hikers on their merry ways.

So I began to climb. Using trees and clawing my way, up and up. I got to where I thought the path must be, and looked up again. Just a bit more, of course. Just a bit more. I clawed my way up farther. Finally, I looked directly up to see a ropeway car passing over my head. The voices were coming from the ropeway above me. The path may or may not be anywhere near me after all. Awesome.

At that point I had no choice but to turn back. Sweaty and dirty as I was, it was about to get worse. Of course going up is strenuous when you are basically arm-over-arming it from tree to tree. But coming down is more or less a barely-controlled ass-slide experience. I got to the “path” I’d been on completely hot, tired, covered in spiderwebs, and dirtier than I think I’ve been since I was like twelve.

Frustrated, I made my way back. I picked up the walking trail again, which was going to be 2.5 kilometers. Whatever, I could do a mile and a half or whatever that was. Then the trail got steeper. And basically became a magical stairway of stone, through an enchanted forest.

I stopped for breaks, mostly to make myself calm the ef down, lest I waste my hiking experience being upset I got lost. I eventually came to the top of Mt. Misen and it was gorgeous.

We shopped our way back to the boat to get back to Hiroshima, indulging in some oysters, leaf-shaped pastry, and beer. There was clubbing on tap that night (after some delicious effing okonomiyaki, Hiroshima-style), but I opted out and became a midnight pumpkin so I could be fresh for our morning plans and the path home.

Day 3 (Monday, Columbus Day, I mean Canadian Thanksgiving, I mean Health and Sports Day?):

I got up earlier than everyone else and went to see this little garden park Heke had been to the day before. It was really sweet, and nice to wander around by myself again, only this time not on a steep incline. I then went to Atomic Bomb Dome and met the rest of the team there after walking around a bit and looking at the Sadako statue and peace park.

It was in general a difficult place to be. Even from my first sight of the dome, I was choked up. I’ll post photos soon, but for now just know that it was upsetting. The Peace Park is equally hard. And the museum. Difficult but important.

The three of us that stayed for the museum, having never been before, grabbed some lunch at a cute cafe and then got off at the wrong stop trying to take a shortcut back to the hotel to meet the others. We got to the cars at about 3:15, and the battery was dead in one. Turns out, the seatbelt had caught in the passenger door, so it hadn’t closed, so the dome light was on while the car was in storage (in this suspension storage unit thing.. kinda weird) for the three days we were in Hiroshima. Totally dead.

But, JET-L had jumper cables. She didn’t know how to use them (no one did, turns out.. no one but me, of course. Can I get a hey-yeah for jumping Jill forty zillion times when it was just the alarm system freaking out?)… but at this point I can positive-positive negative-ground like a pro, so I hooked tiny engine to tiny engine right there on the platform of the car storage unit and within moments, bam, we were on the road.

Not the right one, not at first. We accidentally got on the wrong highway and had to backtrack.. essentially putting us about three and a half hours behind schedule, all told (but this is for museum, lunch, car troubles, and all)… the drive home through the dusky mountains was alright. The sake festival felt like it had been a week before.

And that was my Hiroshima weekend.

Robin Red

EDIT: I've gotten a good question in the comments which I'd like to answer here. I had intended to answer it in the entry proper, but was in a rush to post it before I went home (...because the last four days or so have been as overprogrammed as my high school and college lives.. seriously, directly from one class/activity to the next, and a little time for homework at the end).

So! Robin is a "rental," or so they call it here. It's more like a lease situation, because it's a rent-by-month instead of the way we rent-a-car for a few days in the US. She's around 150 a month, which includes insurance and all the maintenance, which honestly does wonders for my peace of mind. I was bad enough at stressing over English-speaking Jill, so I'm glad to hear that whenever Robin has any issues, all I have to do is bring her to her home and they'll handle it. They've also told me they will install a CD player soon, and snow tires in the winter.

And, even though she's a K-car, she's 4-wheel-drive. People have commented "you can drive her off-road!" ... sure. But then, I took my 96 Geo Prism off road, too. So..

Got a car. ^_^

On September 8th, actually. Bright red and shiny-new-looking, at least compared to what I’m used to.

Don’t get me wrong. I love the woodland creature beast that Jill became this summer. I miss her, even. But Robin Red has a different kind of charm which I’m still, admittedly, figuring out.

Pretty!

Yes, in Japan we drive on the left side of the road, which still freaks me out from time to time. And we sit in the right side of the car. Which is even weirder.

People in Japan back into their parking spots A LOT. I did it this time because of the direction I happened to be going when I got home.

Robin is a K-car, which means she has a scooter engine, basically.. not much power. Good brakes though.

But, what a car is, is freedom. And I intend to enjoy mine. I’m one of only a few JETs currently legally allowed to drive…