MongoLiaison

MONGOLIA

A land of fluid green hills spotted with wild horses and shadowed by the puffy cumulous clouds lounging in the big, blue sky like pale tourists tubing down a lazy river. Is that Mongolia?

Home of an expired empire, more Khans walking the street than after a prison-break, and a feeling that you might be challenged to a wrestling match or boulder-throwing contest at any moment. Is that Mongolia?

A place where mutton and mare's milk is a common meal, where the Russian West meets the Oriental East, and the dust of an old communist state is still being swept up. Is that Mongolia?

I am completely, utterly unsure. That is what draws me to it. And that is one reason why I am going there.

Yes, I am going to Mongolia, along with a group of English teachers in Japan. We are volunteering to build houses for Habitat for Humanity (HFH) from April 29-May 10. If you want to learn more about HFH, click here. If you are interested in donating to this cause, check out the comments section at the end of this post. It is time to smell some sawdust and have black dirt lining my fingernails.

Approximately 2.8 million people live in Mongolia, and about a third of those live in the capital city of Ulaan Baatar. 28 million livestock call Mongolia home....meaning there are 10 times as many farm animals as humans--I hope they don't get any hints from George Orwell. Mongolia has one of the lowest poplulation densities in the world, with about 1.5 persons per square kilometer. Compare that with Bangladesh which has nearly 1000 people per square kilometer!

Anyway, I look forward to a good trip and I will be sure to post about it when I come back.

"Slow Times at Ueno Junior High"

Ueno Junior High School--welcome to my world.

Name: Ueno Junior High School (Japanese: Uenomura Chu Gakko)

Location: Uenomura (上野村), Gunma Prefecture (群馬県), JAPAN (日本)

上 (pron. "ue") means up(per); note the kanji does a good job symbolizing that. However, I think a good old fashioned arrow would've worked just fine. 野 (pron. "no") means field or plain. 村 (pron. "mura") is village. So basically I live in a high field area, or a village amongst some upper plains. With that said, I think there must have been some major seismic activity since the naming of the village because there is nothing flat looking about this village. There is not a single spot for water to collect, for earth and erosion to take a breather from their King of the Hill match, and cars to be parked without the emergency brake engaged.

Statistics

Grades: 3; first, second, and third. Note: in America, they would qualify as 7th, 8th, and 9th.

Students: 39; 1st - 13, 2nd - 14, 3rd - 12. Thirty nine students! That is all I have to deal with! Only 39 crazy names I need to memorize. Only 39 kids to get to understand. And best of all, 39 students to get to know very well. I feel like I know them better than I know some of my friends.

By the way, 39 students is actually a step up. Last year there were only 34 students, and two never came. There are only two club activities--baseball for the boys, volleyball for the girls--and they are played year round. The new school year came and went, along with that came a new position for me: assistant baseball coach. Yeah. I used to join in the practice periodically last year, and I guess it wasn't until they let me hit during batting practice that they realized my potential. My new nickname is "Maja Reaga" (or Major Leaguer in English) because I hit about a half dozen balls over the green-netting (which is about 15 meters high) in deep left field and into the river. Because I can't speak much Japanese, my coaching responsibilities are basically complimenting the players by saying "nice catch" and "nice throw," which is actually what they say themselves...I think they learned it from the infusion of Matsui and Ichiro highlights every night on the news. Also, they think those phrases are Japanese.

About a third of the students live in a dormitory called the Kajika no Sato Gakkuen. Yes, parents send their children to Uenomura Junior High School....because they want a more nature-filled living environment and more intimate location for their children. Plus, the Kajika teaches many things: how to cook, all about nature, how to make your own clothes, pottery, and overall how to be independent and responsible. It has a Montessori feel about it. It is pretty cool. I went there last weekend and made pottery--a beer mug. OH! Next time I go to the Kajika, they want me to bathe with them. Yep, they asked me over dinner. I then approached one of the smarter English-speaking students and said, "Do we wear swimsuits?" He just chuckled and then asked the headmaster of the dormitory who speaks almost perfect English. He said, "No." To which I replied, "Hmm...." while thinking of how wrong that would be in America. The kids just thought I was weird--"Wear a swimsuit?!?!? Why?" The only way I could make them understand was by doing a gesture of me seeing them the next day in class and then going "Aww!" and covering my eyes. They understood, laughed. However, I will most likely do it next time, because it isn't weird for them, so why should it be weird for me? Hopefully I don't get deported.

To be continued....

In the next episode of "Slow Times at Ueno Junior High" find out how Isaac's bath escapade went and about the dilemmas of Ueno Junior High School students. Who will ask Kawasaki to the river festival? Will Kobayashi and Haruka continue their relationship and get over the origami dispute? Will Yuki ever reach his dream of one day being a sumo wrestler, even though he is the runt of the class? And find out which student has been sipping the sake behind the scenes. Be sure to stay tuned.

Kindergarten Graduation

Your first graduation. You will dress in clothes that your mother set out for you on your futon in your tatami room: for the girls, Sunday dresses (although they will never be worn to church) and colorful ribbons tied in your hair in ways to make you look like cute bunnies or pandas along with something sparkly to tie the whole ensemble together; for the boys, dress shorts and hiked-up argyle socks along with matching suit coats and complimentary sweater vests and uncomfortably tight neckties underneath. Relatives will come from places so far away that it would take several minutes to get there by car. Your little brother will cry the whole time, and when he isn't crying he will run rampant like an escaped monkey from the city zoo--trying to crawl up the mayor's leg and swing from his tie--while the zookeeper (mom) tries to put him to sleep. You will get a piece of paper with symbols and kanji on it that you won't understand until you are past this stupid ceremony and several years into elementary school, or even junior high school where that kanji, and reading for that matter, are taught (think of it as a take home exam). Important people will speak at your graduation saying....umm....don't know....something about dreams and being sure to thank your parents. You won't pay attention because you will be too busy trying to remember when you are supposed to bow and wondering if you could run around with your brother. Your mom will cry, but you won't know why--she probably forgot to unplug the rice cooker, and your father will be very upset when your house burns down. You will have more pictures taken of you than you can count (read as: more than 10). Yes, you graduated. You have proved yourself. You no longer put the left shoe on the right foot unless the right foot is the left foot. You have learned the names of things (some in English), the way of things, how to learn, and you are now old enough. So, good luck! Elementary school is waiting.

A Tree Grows in Tokyo

In Japan, the advent of spring is symbolized by many things: warm winds, talk of who is going to make it to the Japanese World Series, the end of a school year and the beginning of a new one, the numerous glimpses of bent over Japanese heinies amidst the freshly tilled dirt in hopes of making a salad come early fall, and animosity for the IRS for making filing taxes from abroad so menially complicated. Not to forget, the cherry blossoms.

The budding and blooming of cherry blossoms (a.k.a. sakura, in Japanese) has influenced many people: poets with their profundities, artists and their vivacity, tourists with their sights to see, and George Washington and his cutlery. It goes without saying that I, too, was touched by this incredible foliage. In fact, the last time I was touched by foliage this much was when I jumped into a pile of leaves in 7th grade.


The blossoms made it feel as if I was living in a real life Candy Land. I wanted to eat the blossoms, lick the branches, and savor the bark. I think the ants were having a hayday. The people of Japan seemed to be enjoying themselves, too. Cherry blossom season is known as "hanami," which roughly translates to flower watch. All over Japan, people get out of their tiny houses and into the parks, equipped with blanket, book, and booze (oh, and 35 mm digital camera with matching case and tripod). It is a national craze, and well worth it.


Ueno Park (pictured above) is well known for hanami. Crowds flock to the park like middle-aged women to a Michael Bolton revival concert. With that said, this particular park caters to all walks of life, from brittle old women walking their dogs to 20-somethings peeling themselves off the blue tarps they partied and slept on the night before. Hanami is uniting the masses.


Shinjuku Park, on the other hand, is much more chic and civilized. In terms of sakura, Shinjuku is like the filet mignon to the 64-ounce ribeye you get at Ueno. The park in Shinjuku offers a quality mix of Japanese gardening, whereas Ueno gives you quantity...groves and groves of cherry trees, almost too much to handle.

I anticipate a remarkable cherry blossom showing here in Ueno village (not to be confused with Ueno in Tokyo). Because of the cold temperatures up here in the mountains, the sakura comes later.



***Congratulations go out to my man Brian, my college roommate, and Alisa who are now engaged! Interestingly enough, he proposed in Washington D.C. among the blossoming cherry trees (a gift from the Japanese Emperor many years ago). Best Wishes.***

Monday Drives

Yesterday I went for a drive to the top of a nearby mountain. It was a clear day, and on clear days there is a chance that your retinas will pierce hundreds of kilometers of atmospheric haze and overlook a handful of mountain ranges. Eventually, if it is an extremely clear day, your lenses will focus upon the cone-shaped blue hue of Fuji. It is an awesome sight.

Sadly, my eyes failed me on this day on account of a few surprise guests known as cumulus. They didn't RSVP for the party, but you can't turn down visitors that come from hundreds of kilometers away and are as unpredictable as the weather.


Well, I didn't see Fuji, arguably the symbol of Japan, but I did see something else that I think symbolizes Japan. Navigating the steep and curvy roads down the mountain I came across many signs like the one pictured above. The steepness indicated on the sign was not what surprised me...the amount of numbers and the decimal point on it did.

I imagine a Japanese engineer calculating the percent grade of the new road--calculating the vertical and horizontal change, the distance traveled. He comes up with a number, 12.....%. Why does he feel the need to even put the ".09" on there? Does that really help? As a driver, are we supposed to say to ourselves "Oh, slow down! This isn't a 12% downgrade. It's a 12.09%! " The sign not only tells the conditions of the road, but also, I think, the culture that makes them.