Nihongo-fied: City Hall, et. al.

I have been in Japan for 493 days. I am starting to become de-sensitized to all the quote-unquote silly Japanese customs and peculiarities (for example, the art of bowing like a stiff man doing standing sit-ups, the ridiculously small shoes you have to change into in the bathroom, the jiggling bodies of sumo wrestlers crashing into each other, the squatting toilets, the high-pitched Japanese women that are constantly trying to morph in to cute kittens, and of course Japanese television...where you are met head-on with kaleidoscopic storylines and game shows on steroids). In fact, if you have been reading this blog from the beginning, you have probably noticed that I am slowly being weaned from the immature remarks on the eccentricities of Japanese culture that I used to focus so much of my blog life on. Maybe it is because I am embracing this alien (astronomically speaking) culture as my own. All I know is that I don't notice the little (stupid) things as much as I used to. Sad. I think I am growing up.

In honor of this, the death of my immature outlook on a weird culture, I must dabble in my old life and honor what once was. On Monday, my first graders (7th graders in the states) were learning new vocabulary and grammar. On this particular day, the textbook dialogue went a little something like this:

A: "Excuse Me."
B: "Yes?"
A: "Where is city hall?"
B: "Take bus No. 3."
A: "How long does it take?"
B: "Well....about 20 minutes."
A: "Thank you."

Nothing special...just an ordinary day. Then came the practicing of the new vocabulary words and repeating after me.

Isaac: "Take"
Class: "TAKE"

Isaac: "Number"
Class: "NUMBA"

Isaac: "City Hall"
Class: "SHITY HORU"

Yes...I had thirteen innocent little boys and girls blurting out "SHITY HORU!" I didn't notice it right away...I guess I am so used to hearing the Japanese pronunciation of English...or Engrish. Later, when they were repeating the full sentences, it finally hit me. About 90% of them were saying "Where is Shity Horu?" I did what any English teacher would have done in that position...I encouraged them to speak loudly. My music teacher in high school always told me that it is better to be a loud singer singing the wrong note than a quiet singer singing the correct note. If you can hear the mistake, you can correct it. I plan on correcting their pronunciation next time.

*Sidenote: My favorite Japenglish:

"Whito bodo maka wa doko desu ka?" Translation: Where is the whiteboard marker?
"Usuarry." Translation: Usually.
"Dabeedoh Bohyee." Translation: David Bowie.
In sports: "Nice pray!" Translation: Nice play!
"Makudanorudosu." Translation: McDonald's.

Seoul and Euphoria in South Korea: A Prelusion

My first memories of South Korea go way back...all the way to 7th grade (which is pathetic now that I think about it because I have had an adopted cousin from Korea my entire life). You see, that's when I was learning the capitals of countries throughout the world. Such places as Ankara, Rangoon, and Tegucigalpa were gracing my vocabulary as well as star-dotting the pages of my parents' enormous hardbound National Geographic atlas. I remember that atlas well. It is so big it can't fit on a shelf so we put it in the next best place, under the couch. I would often pull it out while on all fours after pestering the cat. I would flip through the pages with freshly clawed and bloodied wrists (thanks kitty) and say under my breath, "I want to go there...and there...and there." I could live in that atlas.

In particular, I am fond of South Korea for several reasons: Seoul, yin-yang flags, and bar-b-ques--which sounds like Woodstock reincarnate. South Korea was the flashcard you always wanted to get when quizzed on the capitals. I mean, if you couldn't remember Seoul, I'm pretty sure you will never get Ouagadougou (Burkina Faso).

Furthermore, living in Japan has given me a chance to live that little kid's dream of going here, there, and everywhere in Asia. And next, you guessed it, is South Korea. The Japanese math teacher and I are heading there tomorrow for a 5-day gut-stuffing, culture-soaking experience. This trip is going to be particularly unique for a few reasons:

1) I am going with the math teacher from the junior high school I work with. It will be his first time out of the country. He speaks a bit of English and I speak a bit of Japanese. Lastly, Japanese and Koreans have a bit of a history. Just a bit.
2) If for some reason something is not expressed in English, it will be in Japanese, so we will get a full take on South Korea. Too bad we don't speak Korean.
3) They eat dog there. I can't wait.
4) They don't call it South Korea for nothing...yin has it's yang. I'll spell it out: N-O-R-T-H.

I'll keep you posted on what happens.

Marathon Man

Yesterday, was marathon day at school. For two hours we didn't have class. Instead, we embraced the wonderfully fulfilling activity know only as running. Or, in my case, dawdling. You may be thinking "you got out of two hours worth of class to run an entire marathon? How 'dat be....ain't marathons long?" Good question, Sherlock. Well, you must remember the time difference here and then take into account the conversion of miles into kilometers and don't forget to carry the 1. All that said, the marathon works out to be a brisk 1.88 km. We all know it is human nature to to embellish stories--like how big the fish you caught was, and how pretty your first girlfriend was--but the Greeks really know how to be drama queens. It turns out it is just under 2 kilometers from Marathon to Athens. Yep....true story...at least at my school.

My team consisted of 6 people--me and 5 students (picture below). Azusa (aka Zoom-chan), Yamato (aka Mountain Man), Hidekazu (aka Potato), Tomomitsu (aka The Kenyan), Me (aka Prefontaine), and Hiromi (aka Foresuto Gamupu) made up the red team (out of 7 teams) for this year's marathon relay race. Thanks to strong showings from the first 5 legs of the race, we started the anchor leg in first with a 30 second cushion. Mountain Man was our anchor and our hopes were high. We waited with bated breath (which I wouldn't suggest trying after sprinting several kilometers) as our man was making his way through the scenic mountain course. Our eyes were glued to the final turn as the pink team came peeling round the bend...then the yellow team....soon followed by the sky blue team....which was being tailed closely by the white and navy blue teams. It was discouraging. I wondered what happened to Mountain Man. This was uncharacteric of him. He could run like the wind blows. Did he slip and fall on a pine cone? Did he get lost? We soon found out.


Mountain Man came dashing around the bend, high-stepping and barefoot. He carried his shoes like footballs, and pumped his fists like the pistons in the 2-cylinder cars common here in Japan. He glided over the gravel track like a knife over butter unthawed. It was heroic, and ridiculous. He finished, collected his breath, and told his harrowing story. It turns out just pass Kurosawa's place and before the bridge, Mountain Man's shoes totally obliterated. I looked at his shoes; the tongue was wagging and loose from the unlaceable laces, and the sole was soulless. Frankly, it was disturbing. Thankfully, we still beat the lowly purple team and didn't come away empty-handed--we had to carry Mountain Man to his homeroom afterwards.

Arafune

Arafune is Japanese for enormous rock ship with sheer cliffs on all sides that if you were to fall off the cliff (or get hit by a stick [thrown by an immature foreigner] while aimlessly wandering off-track down below) you would die...several times over. Many geologists theorize how such an enormous thunderhead of rock and stone and other hard things became into being in this particular location. Here are some of their hypotheses: (1) seismic hoop-la and rigamarole involving plates and pushing; (2) God; (3) liquid, hot magma, and; (4) an enormous meteoroid crashed into this particular location after discovering how to achieve its dream of finally becoming a meteorite (see definitions of meteor, meteorite, and meteoroid for clarification on astronomically [pun intendend] nerdy punchline).

After spotting Arafune from atop nearby Mount Myogi several weeks ago, Enid and I decided to hike up it last Friday. It was intense. It was fierce. It was daunting. Much like hearing your own eulogy, it was death-defying and life-defining.

Scratch that. It was actually pretty simple. And a lot of fun.