Tall Foreigner Works in Short Country

Leaving Home for Home

2007-07-24T07:28:00.000+09:00

I am filled with mixed emotions right now. Tomorrow morning I will be leaving a place I call home for another place I call home. Bittersweet. I have lived in Japan for two years now. I have met some of the nicest people on the face of the earth, done some incredible things, been able to travel a smidgen of the globe, and lived in a completely unique (and sometimes bizarre) country.

I taught English to day care students, elementary students, junior high school students, and even a few old, eager elders. I learned the names of every single one of them (something I thought would never happen), what they liked, who their brother/sister was, what subject they excelled in. Not only that, but I feel like I really got to know them. Despite the mother tongue language barrier, it is amazing how much can be expressed with a little patience and a few basic words.

I came to Japan sporting a goatee, being able to speak 3 or 4 words, not knowing how to use chopsticks, weighing 106 kilos, and not knowing anyone in Japan. Now, I am leaving clean-shaven, able to speak 3- or 4-dozen words, a chopstick pro, weighing 92 kilos, and with a friendship with an entire village in the Japanese countryside!

What's next? At the end of August, I'll be moving to circa Austin, TX to attend graduate school in analytical chemistry. It's sad to think of a new beginning when you wouldn't mind not having the last thing end. But yeah, life goes on. I am ready for the next adventure! This blog was pretty much dedicated to my experiences in Japan. I would like to start another blog about happenings in my life, but analytical chemistry (endearingly known as Anal Chem by chem majors) isn't exactly the most exciting thing to read about. We'll see what happens. I hope you enjoyed reading this blog, I know I sure enjoyed writing it!

Sayonara from Japan. I'll see you in America.

Easy Choice, Right?

2007-07-18T18:09:00.000+09:00

This is where America and Japan differ--not to mention about a billion other things.

America...bigger is better...more bang for your buck...something for nothing...fat people. I always chuckle as I push the button on the left and think of the poor sucker who can't do simple arithmetic, ratios, and/or see. Poor sap.

Japan...land of the rising sun and a few other things that are so strange and contadicting and peculiar that I may never know. Anyway, they may have it right on this vending machine. The capitalist inside me just puked...but yeah...if you don't want to drink the big one, why get it?

Yari-ga-take: 槍ヶ岳

2007-07-15T16:04:00.000+09:00

Yari-ga-take (trans. Spear Peak) is the cantankerous, stubbornly rooted boil of the earth's crust. Protruding and poppable, but not. You think a peak so steep would just fall over. Not the case. The only things falling over are the people trying to climb it. To make things interesting (worse), Enid and I decided to climb it in the middle of a typhoon. Don't worry Mr. Havelaar, I made sure nothing bad happened to your daughter. Thus begins the picture book with witty dialogue.

Here is Enid climbing down the "Ladder to Oblivion" after summiting the peak. The combination of the wind, rain, and altitude almost made this photo impossible. I'm not really down with heights, so I told myself to not peer over the edge...but I had to capture those pearly whites.

Here is the obligatory summit photo with beautiful view backdrop, minus the beautiful view backdrop. At 3180 meters, Yari-ga-take is the fifth highest peak in Japan. On a clear day, you can see scenery most Japanese people only dream about. What I saw? The fog on my lenses and a nameless typhoon (the Japanese people just number them...they don't want to get personal with storms of destruction).

These are the said "Ladders to Oblivion." You would probably never guess it, but the one on the left tried to kill me.
This is "The Funnel." If you happen to fall while crossing these giant snowfields, good luck. You will slide down that mountain valley faster than expectorated mouthwash in a dentist's side sink.

Enid shows us how to navigate "The Funnel." She knows how to stick to the trail like plaque around the gum line.

This is me in a crevasse. I included this picture for 2 reasons: 1) it looks cool, and 2) I have never used the word 'crevasse' in a serious sentence.

Cultural Realization #782

2007-07-12T16:27:00.000+09:00

Japanese people are great at embellishing things. From ornamenting their entire dashboard with Pooh-san (Winnie the Pooh) and other stuffed animals, to landscaping and irrigating every square centimeter of land, they really know how to make anything look good (or gaudy). Even poop.

It's Training Cats and Dogs

2007-07-03T18:05:00.000+09:00

My sixth grade teacher, Mr. Freese, (what a scary name for a teacher) still affects my life from time to time, even though I am way past long division (I have a calculator), memorizing state capitals, and believing that he was the arch nemesis of Spider-Man. He introduced me to the phrase "Perfect practice makes perfect." Not just practice, but perfect practice. If it is not worth practicing perfectly, then perfection will never be accomplished. There is truth in this...there is also the entire Japanese psyche wrapped up in this phrase, especially if you add the Boy Scouts' motto as a kicker.

During my two years in Japan, I have been trained (in Japanese mind you) on how to give CPR, what to do in case of an earthquake, a fire, a landslide, a tsunami, if a lunatic comes to school wielding a knife, how to administer an automated external defribrillator (for comparison, this happens during 3rd year of medical school in the states), and how to best help a student who has just fainted and/or is hyperventilating. This is hands-on stuff, too.

Turns out, if a psychopath comes to school dressed in the usual psychopath clothes (the first tip-off) which includes wearing sunglasses inside, you should go straight for the best defense against such a foe: the gigantic 2-pronged fork that sits in the corner of all the classrooms. You use the gigantic 2-pronged fork by sliding a tine under each armpit and pinning him up against the wall, much like a slippery noodle on fine china.

They also start them young in Japan. Last Wednesday, we took the pre-schoolers (age 3-5) to the 3-D tsunami and landslide simulator instead of playing musical chairs. That was a bad idea. As soon as everyone had their over-sized 3-D glasses on and the door to the enormous semi-trailer/simulator was closed the havoc began. Let's just say I've never experienced a simulated boulder and a few mechanized chairs cause so many real tears before.

Bandai-san: 磐梯山

2007-06-28T10:01:00.000+09:00

As my friend Daniel so eloquently put it, "If the earth had breasts, they would be Bandai-san." Bandai-san is a voluptuous volcano in Fukushima Prefecture in northern Japan. Back in the day it erupted, rather, exploded. The northern side of its caldera burst out, like that one time I drank an entire bottle of prune juice even though I was already regular. The debris and liquid hot magma (that is probably my favorite phrase to say...liquid hot magma) clogged the rivers and streams, forming lakes and ponds copiously.

Some of the ponds are tinted cyan, saffron, or brick red from the minerals in the water. The colors were so bright at times that I felt I was walking through different divisions at the Crayola warehouse. In fact, I even pondered if chemicals were being added to heighten the effect. Honestly, you have no idea how much tourist revenue a couple colored ponds brings a community in Japan.

Well, anyway, we continued our hiking pilgrimage by making a weekend of Bandai-san. We camped near a lake along with the mosquito population equivalent of China. Enid played the role of martyr by wearing shorts.

With magnificent views surrounding us, Daniel and I bonded near the summit. You may remember Daniel from such hikes as Asama-yama Part 1, Cloud-grabber Mountain: A Survivor Story, and the lesser known Aka-dake: This Would be Really Gorgeous If There Weren't So Many Clouds. Sadly, Bandai-san was our last hike together. Right after this photo was taken, he fell 300 meters to his death. Well, in actuality, he didn't die. He is staying in Japan and I am leaving. So, save me a hike for when we see each other again Daniel, and some stories.

Greatest Job in the World

2007-06-22T10:49:00.000+09:00

They pay me to do this!

Aren't they cute? The first time I did this with them I almost laughed, cried, and crapped my pants at the same time. System overload! I especially like watching the little boy on the left, the girls in the front (one of them never bends over), and the random boys that are too cool to partake but still storm right through the middle every now and then.

Finding Peace on an Active Volcano

2007-06-18T18:00:00.000+09:00

There were moments in my life when I thought I was most definitely an extrovert. I would feel so alive and recharged when I was active with others. Then, I slowly but surely realized the importance of alone time. The flip-flopping began. Extroversion inverted to introversion. The prefix jury is still out on what 'version' I am. However, I have my own theory.

I am eco-verted. Nature is my sanctuary. Nothing makes me feel more alive. I don't know what it is. Chemicals are balanced. Perceptions are positive. Deadlines are forgotten. Celebrations are remembered. Whatever it is, it clicks.

Enid, Justin, and I hiked Mount Asama (click here for previous story about this mountain) last weekend. It was the best hike of my life. The rainy season took the weekend off and allowed blue skies the chance to wash blues away. We could see the snow-capped peaks of all the major mountain ranges in Japan, roughly 30,000 rice paddies, and were even able to take some photos without having powerlines in the background.

Life is good when you are on the edge of a volcano, you can see how far you've come, and you're in your environment, even with the occasional hallucinogenic huff and puff of volcanic exhaust.

America's Pastime...in Japan

2007-06-12T15:43:00.000+09:00

Baseball is considered America's game, but per capita, Japan takes the cake in terms of baseball fanatics. A baseball game in Japan has the usual stuff you would see at a game in the states, except here you can also find organized cheering, an unusual seventh inning stretch routine, grown men openly crying over a regular season game, 800-yen beers, cheerleaders circa 1981, the sissiest looking mascots ever, and a lot of quasi-English baseball words: Fighto! Nice Pitchy! Curbu Baru! Ret's Go! Just watch this video illustrating the evolution of the seventh inning stretch routine. There is no "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" sung over on this side of the Pacific.

24 Beers and 1 Trophy

2007-06-04T21:10:00.000+09:00

The 25th Annual Ueno Village Volleyball Tournament was held on Sunday. In all the different nooks and crannies of this tiny mountain village, there are about a half dozen neighborhoods filled with volleyball enthusiasts ranging in age from twenty-somethings to sexagenearians. Each neighborhood puts together their best team members to represent them on the court. I live in the neighborhood of Nippa (新羽) which loosely translated means 'new feather' and was a shoe-in for being on the team. Nippa cruised to two easy victories to make it to the champioship game versus the crowd favorite Katsuyama team. The first set went to Nippa quite handedly, then the second to Katsuyama. It all came down to the final set. Try to imagine an environment mixed with moments of deafening silence and then deafening roars. The scoreboard seesawed its way toward match point. Who would get yearlong bragging rights? Who would hoist the Ueno Cup? More importantly, who would be hoisting glasses full of complimentary beer at the champion's party?

The answer: Nippa

Down 19-20, we fended off match point. Then, I served out the match by winning the next three points. We felt like rock stars. The local TV station interviewed me, a humbling experience. I mumbled through my limited Japanese, "Last set...eh...very fun...eh...we worked hard...umm....this game was good. Arigatou."

Fishy! Sushi! Touche!

2007-05-27T22:43:00.000+09:00

You are a tuna. Swimming in the depths off the coast of Spain or New Zealand, you get caught. You are thrown in the deep freeze colder than the deepest waters you've experienced and hauled to a faraway land. You arrive freshly dead and hard as a hull. An auction takes place, and your worth is equivalent to a small fuel-efficient automobile. You are hauled away once again, this time by the highest bidder. You are sawed up, hacked up, sliced up, and diced up. You go every which direction, still cold and still fresh. Some of you ends up whirling around on conveyor belts being sold for a buck a plate, while others are $10 per piece in a restaurant with a drink menu and a rock garden out front. You are eaten. You are delicious.

From sea chicken to tiger prawns, if it is seafood, it can be found in Tsukiji fish market. Tsukiji is the largest fish market on the planet. There are more than 450 species of fish sold at the market, from the tiniest sardines to enormous swordfish. In order to catch a glimpse of the action, you must arrive shortly after dawn. That's when the latest catch of frozen tunas are slid out into position, much like a submarine during torpedo inventory. The auctioneer rambles, hands fly, money is made.

Soon after the auction, most of the fish will be sliced into rectangular form shown above, ready to be placed on a miniature bed of rice. This is sushi. If the raw seafood is served solo, without rice, it is called sashimi. We hit up a sushi bar for breakfast (nothing like raw fish to get the day started) after visiting the fish market. I paid about ¥1500 ($13) for 4 pieces of sushi--super fatty tuna (otoro), fatty tuna (chutoro), tiger prawn, and sea bream (tai). I must be turning Japanese because it was one of the best breakfasts I've ever had.

Buddha Boogers

2007-05-21T22:44:00.000+09:00

My meditation involves picking my nose. Buddha doesn't have that luxury.

Buddha Stole My Girlfriend

2007-05-21T18:55:00.000+09:00

If you look closely, Buddha is actually blushing. So much for living a simple, ascetic life Buddha. As Thoreau once said, "Life with a woman is antonymous to an ascetic life." Sure, she likes your easygoingness and your open ears now, but eventually you're going to have to get off your bum and do something with yourself. Status doesn't stand for everything...of all people, you should know that.

A Weekend At Home

2007-05-18T08:20:00.000+09:00

I love where I live.

Different Country School

2007-05-11T08:55:00.000+09:00

Sometimes I feel like I am teaching at a Montessori school in the boondocks of Japan. I am definitely in the backwoods, which is no small feat in Japan. Japan is basically a sprawling messy mass of powerlines, masonry work, and millions of bustling black-haired people. However, Ueno village (the village I live in) is different.

Yesterday, afternoon classes were put on hold so we could all go out and pick garbage up around the river. Last week was even cooler for the wee naturalist inside me. We hiked up the mountain in search of lunch for later that day. Basically, we learned what plants were edible and what were poisonous. We picked the good ones and headed back to the school.

I was part of the rice squad. We made fires by the riverside and boiled rice. I felt like a boy scout with a lighter, minus the sewing. We did one of the most peaceful yet exciting things while the rice boiled; we skipped rocks. It's amazing how trying to find the perfect stone, throwing side-arm, and counting in a different language brings you closer to someone and transcends age and culture.

The tempura squad was battering the wild plants with as much vigor as a pancake chef working in a lumberjack camp with a cathartic reputation. Soon enough the sound of oil splattering stopped and lunch was served. The menu: curry (fireside) rice, wild plant tempura, and edible grass salad.

Next event: the all-school volleyball tournament. You may remember, last year I broke my glasses by blocking a spike with my face.

Quirky Quagmires and Moonsets

2007-05-06T19:15:00.000+09:00

Enid and I's hiking adventures continued through the second weekend of Golden Week (4 holidays packed into one week). The weather was just starting to get nice, and it was way to early for us to climb the 3000+ meter Japanese Alps, so we settled for hiking the undisputed most beautiful marshland in all of Japan, Oze, and a peak in tourist-laden Nikko.

Oze is an elevated marshland spanning three prefectures famous for its spring blooms. In particular, in late May and early June the beautiful mizubasho come out in full force. Mizubasho is a beautiful bog plant whose name was lost in translation: skunk cabbage. E and I went early to bypass the heaps of tourists strapped with enormous cameras and tripods. It turns out, though, there were still tons of people there....AND heaps of snow! We tented it, and let's just say, sleeping on the snow is about as relaxing as it sounds.

It seems even the cold weather was on our side though, because we slept so little that we ended up getting up at 4 am. We saw the moon set and the sun rise....something I haven't seen since....ever. We cautiously walked our way across the snow pack, which at any moment would collapse and submerse your foot in a bootfull of water. Next: the nature of Nikko. After running over Enid's boots with my black bomber (don't ask), driving up a one-way mountain pass in the wrong direction (again, don't ask), and waiting in a traffic jam in the middle of nowhere, we hiked up a holy volcano. It was no Mount Ararat, but it did have a heavenly view and hell bubbling below it's dormant crags.

In the Shadows

2007-05-02T09:57:00.000+09:00

Whenever I find myself on a peak in Japan, I usually recite all of the surrounding peaks on the horizon ("There's Asama....there's Myogi....there's the Northern Alps, Central Alps, and Southern Alps!"). As I spin my head round, with jaw muscles relaxed and mouth agape, I secretly wish to finish with "And there's Fuji!". However, despite easily being the tallest mountain in Japan, it is often hidden behind the smog of thousands of Toyotas and a thick cloud-woven halo. It makes it that much more spectacular when you actually do see it.

After hiking and camping in Tokyo (Yes, see above. That is what a campsite in Tokyo looks like), we hopped in my black bomber with snow tires removed, and headed toward the pure white snow of Fuji. The mission: to climb a neighboring mountain of Fuji for a (fingers-crossed) awesome view. Below, is what we saw.

Noli the Anomaly

2007-04-25T21:34:00.000+09:00

This post is devoted and dedicated to Noli.

It should be known that:

Noli is a good friend of mine.
Noli lives about 45 minutes away via car.
Noli is one of the smartest people I know.
Noli is pronounced nori in Japanese, which means seaweed.
Noli has many peculiar interests.
Noli is half Cuban, half Greek.
Noli is from Texas.
Noli likes sumo as much as I do.
Noli rarely wears pants.
Noli is an anomaly.

Meet Noli. He is an English teacher in Japan, but he studied paleontology at an Ivy League school in Pennsylvania. He is wicked smart in more areas than one. He speaks Japanese and Texan drawl. He has a $100 ping pong paddle and beats me only 45% of the time. He hates it when I call it ping pong ("it's table tennis!") and when I mention how he can't beat me even with a $100 ping pong paddle.

Noli really enjoys hiking and camping. He also likes to position his head between your legs right before a picture is taken. It is, in a word, exhilarating.

Noli is a fantastic juggler. Noli puts most of his energy into spelling immature, blasphemous, and ebonics words during a game of Scrabble. Noli once criticized me for using the word G-love in a Scrabble game, to which I replied, "It's glove!"

On a trip to Tokyo with Noli, I discovered he bookmarked the Mark Twain book he was reading on page 2. I asked him if he needed a break from reading that one page, to which he replied "the font is small and the margins are big!" He also affirmed that he wouldn't be able to remember that he was on page 2 without the bookmark.

Noli is the best (and only) mountain unicycler I have ever met. On a recent trip to China, he unicycled along the Great Wall. He also ate scorpion and centipede. I'll ask him for photos. Noli, nice to meet you.

Trains to Terrains

2007-04-15T21:37:00.000+09:00

CHUGGA-CHUGGA, CHUGGA-CHUGGA, CHUGGA-CHUGGA

Gunma to Kyoto: 11 hours on the train.

Enid and I took the slow train because we are, let's face it, cheap. We each got five 1-day JR train passes for 8000 yen (about $70) and decided to head down south like many the spring breakers before us. Our three days in Kyoto were filled with visits to mind-numbing zen temples, over-the-top ascetical shrines, and bike rides through quaint bamboo-lined streets and, later, through the rush hour mass exodus of salary men, high-heeled women, and taxis acting like Shriners.

Japanese moment: learning that, in Kyoto, there is a job for those who like to remove moss from trees.

CHUGGA-CHUGGA, CHUGGA-CHUGGA, CHUGGA-CHUGGA

Kyoto to Shikoku: 8.5 hours via the Moonlight Rapid Service (night) train. Plus many more side trips.

Shikoku is the smallest of the four main islands of Japan. We spent three days here, too. Here the cherry blossoms were in full bloom amongst the many castles, seafood shops, fertility shrines and sex museums. Yep, the most famous fertility shrine in all of Japan lies in the coastal town of Uwajima, and in the 1960s the sex museum was erected alongside it. Women from all over Japan come to the fertility shrine to pray for easy childbirth and healthy babies, among other things. We came to learn something about the culture, and, much like 95% of the others, to gawk at the strange collection of sexual images, "toys", cartoons, sculptures, and world sexual artifacts (India, Nepal, and sadists were all strong contributors).

CHUGGA-CHUGGA, CHUGGA-CHUGGA, CHUGGA-CHUGGA

Shikoku to Osaka: 7.5 hours via the Moonlight Rapid Service (night) train.

Osaka is Tokyo on amphetamines with a cement chaser. Everything is sped up and industrialized. We only spent two days here, visiting the famed Osaka Castle, America Village (equivalent to a chinatown), and a Salvador Dalí exhibit. It was utterly fantastical and just what we needed before the 12-hour train ride home.

Kyoto Confidential

2007-04-08T22:11:00.000+09:00

While visiting temples and shrines throughout Kyoto during spring vacation, Enid and I decided to go into stealth mode to make things a little more interesting. By 'stealth mode', I mean we acted like ninjas in the temple complex areas. Just watch the videos.

Ready, Set, GO!

2007-03-27T09:47:00.000+09:00

March Madness takes on a different form in the Far East. The school year and fiscal year both end in March, which means two things: lots of bowing and lots of farewell parties. This year was no different. During the third graders graduation ceremony I decided to tally up how many times I bowed during the course of the ceremony (I mean, what else would I do?!?!? I don't understand what they are talking about, and even if I did I would probably just fall asleep like everyone else). Times bowed during the hour-long ceremony: 106.

It was actually very sad seeing some of my students leave the school for the last time. I have become very good friends with some of them, and they have made my time in Japan a memorable one.

Next up: Kindergarten graduation. The students came dressed in their cutest outfits to make them even cuter! Never before have I seen the 3-piece suit so well utilized with the matching shorts and stretched up gym socks.

This graduation ceremony wasn't as boring as the Junior High School one for several reasons: 1) while the mayor was speaking several graduates started jostling with their clothing and pulling their skirts over their heads; 2) the kids in kindergarten are just learning to bow, so it is fun to watch them try; 3) young children are the best at speaking with me...they use easy Japanese, they like actions and gestures, and if I nod my head and say something silly they think I understand; and, 4) I gave a speech in Japanese, so of course it was very moving and got all the parents crying.

Situational Martyrdom

2007-03-13T15:26:00.000+09:00

Disclaimer:

The following story may be considered offensive, obscene, immature, intrinsically shitty, and/or tasteless. Frankly, I think it is entertaining and human, meaning identifiably embarrassing.

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

I am a firm believer in "situational constipation." Consider the following situations:

Three seconds left. Your team is down by one. You are at the free throw line. You can win, tie, or lose. It is all on your shoulders.

You are standing in front of friends and family. You have just exchanged your vows. Two more words are left to be spoken.

You are scaling a mountain. The only thing keeping you on the mountain is a chain that is clenched beneath your white knuckles. If you fall, you die.

What do all three of these situations have in common? The answer: You are concentrating so intensely on the situation that the last thing you will do is poop your pants. Your mind overrides any digestive bickerings. Congratulations, you have reached the situationally constipated state.

Last weekend, Enid and I hiked Mount Myogi for the third time. And, much to my shagrin, my stomach was acting up as we were snaking our way along the ridgeline. The grumbles and pangs were intensifying with each and every step. I thought to myself, "Thankfully situational constipation will set in soon." Nope. Didn't happen.

Instead, I found myself dangling from a chain on the side of the ridgeline with my pants down. Hovering, basically in mid-air with my girlfriend encouraging (and discouraging) me from above. It wasn't my brightest moment, especially without the luxury of toilet paper (or leaves for that matter) by my side. Instead, I resorted to my handy Snoopy towel on my head.

I don't know why I just told you that story. My parents are shaking their heads right now. I just figure you will no longer have to ask me about my most embarrassing moment. And, if I can make any of your days any less shitty by telling you this story, then it was worth it.

Currency Calculator?

2007-03-07T13:47:00.000+09:00

Last month I got a ticket for driving through a school zone during a time when the road was not supposed to be used. I was warned of not performing such an action by the sign shown on the left. Obviously, I should've known better.

The ticket cost me ¥7,000 and I could mail it in. It was not a big deal. It did, however, remind me of that horrible time known only as yesteryear.

Just over a year has passed since it happened. Now, whenever I think about it I end up shaking my head, blinking one eye repeatedly while contorting my face, and bottling it up inside for some unexpecting victim.

In January of 2006, I was driving from my village to Takasaki, the biggest city in the prefecture. It was a sunny Friday afternoon, warm. I was in no particular hurry, but I was still boomeranging my Mitsubishi around switchbacks and vrooming by the rice paddies. After turning onto the nicest stretch of road in all of Japan (read as: wide enough for 2 entire lanes of traffic, and straight enough to be mistaken for a landing strip), I let my genetically heavy right foot get the best of me.

They caught me. They being the police. Caught, meaning I was (allegedly) breaking the law by (allegedly) going 82 kph in a 40 kph zone. And me, meaning me. Waiting on the side of the road, before rolling my window down, I still had an ace up my sleeve. I was going to play the "dumb foreigner" role and get out of this predicament by constantly saying "I don't understand" in Japanese. It should be noted that playing the "dumb foreigner" role could be mistaken for me just acting naturally because of the miniscule amount of Japanese I know and my goofy demeanor.

The plethora of Japanese cops that tended to me (it was a sting operation where there were about 10 cops waiting for law-breaking citizens/foreign residents) knew a handful of English phrases to convey the stupidity of my actions. Phrases like "You dangerous drive fast" and "Sign 40 kilo, you 82 kilo, Americans always" worked against my incessant I-don't-understand-ing. Eventually, I got the ticket, a court date, and an estimation of the impending penalty.

My mandatory court date was chaperoned by my Japanese-speaking supervisor, not a good thing for work relations. It took nearly 2 hours, I made my "statement" via interpreter, and my punishment was given. My punishment: ¥80,000 yen fine and a 30-day suspension of my license. It hurt. Bad.

It was not over yet. The next week my supervisor and I made the trip to the Traffic Center. I took a class in Japanese illustrating good and bad driving techniques. The class lasted all day. I learned that the Japanese term for blind spot can be directly translated to "Death Angle." Also, I was able to use the state-of-the-art driving simulator. Picture a big arcade game: with my supervisor wearing the headphones telling her the directions in Japanese, she directed me (the driver) with English directions. I blame this complicated relaying of directions for why I hit a digitalized grandma crossing the street. Luckily, I wasn't being tested on my simulated driving skills...I could hit anything I wanted. Later, I took the test (in English) and passed. My 30-day license suspension was reduced to only one day. It was great, but it ended up costing me another ¥15,000.

All in all, it was a very cultural experience...one I think everyone should go through. I just wish it didn't cost ¥100,000.

Gobbledegook

2007-02-19T14:46:00.000+09:00

Word of the Match: CORDUROYS

Winter is a lifestyle changer...same with Japan. When you are stuck inside and you start to get cravings for using gargantuan words that you can't use in front of the English class (because it contains more than two syllables), it is time you start playing Scrabble. Yep, Scrabble: the game where you have 1 board, a tray, and 7 letters usually accompanied by stale pretzels and a prune juice chaser; the game that has saved millions of old people from talking about their grandchildren too much; the game that automatically induces the smell of moth balls and medicine; the game where dead vocabularies are reincarnated.

Word of the Match: ANDROID

I realize that the only thing nerdier than playing Scrabble is blogging about Scrabble. However, Scrabble is like the step-father I never had. Thus, I now embrace it by playing at least thrice a week. Let me explain that. At first introduction, Scrabble is boring, rigid, and filled with strange new rules, much like a step-father. Later, after giving Scrabble a chance, I realized that I could definitely enjoy such a game every now and then when not preoccupied with a computer game, much like the rotating visits you have with your real, genetically cooler dad.

Word of the Match: OZONE

Every Monday night, 2 buddies and I get together for "Brains and Brawn Night." We meet at the gym and do a vigorous work-out of lifting huge amounts of weight while discussing manly things like mountain unicycling and ping pong matches against Asian people. Then, we give our pulsating bodies a break while our brains work over a rousing game of Scrabble. It is precisely what you think three 20-somethings would be doing in the middle of the countryside in Japan.

Word of the Match: WORSTED

Word of the Match: HERNIAS

Word of the Match: MOSQUE

Word of the Match: ONYX

Word of the Match: AREOLA

Word of the Match: PENTANES

Word of the Match: WIGGLERS

Word of the Match: MECCA

Word of the Match: ZOOT

Human, Nature

2007-02-18T21:37:00.000+09:00

Road Trip: Noto Peninsula

2007-02-14T13:46:00.000+09:00

Distance traveled: 1135 km / 709 mi

Tanks of gas: 2

Total cost of gas: ¥10,000 / $90
Prefectures visited: 5; Gunma, Nagano, Niigata, Toyama, Ishikawa
Things packed into my tiny Mitsubishi Mirage hatchback: 2 non-Japanese-sized people (Enid and I), 2 bicycles, 2 sleeping bags, a tent, sleeping pads, camp stove, cookware, warm clothes, tons of snacks, and Jules (Enid's stuffed flamingo that has more personality and opinions than most presidential candidates)
Bags of chocolate covered raisins eaten: 5
Number of official female-only suicide cliffs: 1
Longest bench in the world seen: Yes
Amount of garbage on Japanese beaches: More than grains of sand
Staff members who thought I was crazy after I told them I went camping in freezing temperatures: All of them

The Noto Peninsula bears the brunt of the crashing surf and fierce winds stemming from the Sea of Japan. The resiliency of the weathered rocks is only outdone by the enduring wind and waves. It is a haven for natural beauty, quaint villages, and seaside panoramas. To celebrate the 3-day weekend, Enid and I packed up my reliable Japanese car and made the 8-10 hour car ride to the coast. The weather was anything but delightful, but we made the most out of our time anyway.

A majority of the first day was spent navigating the monstrosity known only as the Japanese road network--a system where there are more traffic signals than street signs, and the label "developed country" seems ludicrous. It was surreal zooming through old Japanese villages along the coast, gawking at houses hundreds of years old, and zig-zagging around right-angled old women suffering from years of weeding the garden and not enough dairy. After hours of butt-numbing driving, we made it to the cape and our (closed) campsite. We quickly set up camp behind some rocks, high-tailed it to the local rotemburo (outdoor public bath), and ached our sore bones as we watched the shoreline fight the slow death of erosion. Before bed, we attempted to play a frigid game of Scrabble as spaghetti steamed its way to our mouths.

It rained all night, and even snowed a little. The next day was filled with a trip to suicide cliff, where women would often go to shoot themselves in the head....wait...i mean, jump off the cliff (that joke is courtesy of Enid Havelaar). We found our campsite early and then decided to go on a 30 km bike trip along the coastline. It was, in 4 words, a very good time. We even got the chance to sit on the longest bench in the world! (I can now check that one off the list. Next up: sit on the shortest bench in the world, sit on the bench at highest altitude in the world, and to bench 200 pounds.)

Pure as Snow

2007-02-01T11:52:00.000+09:00

Beautiful. Symmetric. Powerful. Pure. Haiku-worthy.

Borneo, Part III: Mount Kinabalu

2007-01-24T15:41:00.000+09:00

Mount Kinabalu is the tallest mountain in Southeast Asia. It is located only a couple degrees latitude above the equator. At 4095 meters, Mount Kinabalu's summit is only a couple degrees above freezing. Heading to tropical Borneo, it seems strange to pack long underwear, mittens, and layers of warm clothing. But, we did; we were hiking the beast.

Hiking Mount Kinabalu is a two-day affair. The trail starts in the dense undergrowth of a tropical rainforest with more green than Bill Gates' bank account. There were many birds that made noises which we never actually saw. Oh, and I fulfilled my role in the food chain by having blood-suckng leeches do what they do best to my ankles. Now, I have a pair of socks in my drawer that are pinkish white and could just as well be reusable tourniquets.

About an hour into the first day's hiking it started raining. When I say raining I don't mean sprinkles and contemplation of getting an umbrella. I mean a sort of rain that would make Noah get flashbacks. We persevered and slowly and steeply made our way skyward toward the source of our frustration--the clouds. We passed out of the tropical forests and through many different ecosystems, eventually making it above the tree line. We reached our lodging for the night after 6 hours of hiking. We were cold, tired, and sopping wet. We had no dry clothes except our long underwear, which was perfect for public display and gazing at the best sunset I have ever seen.

We awoke at 2:30 am to start the final ascent of Mount Kinabalu in hopes of seeing a breath-taking sunrise. It turned out the only thing that was breath-taking was the journey itself. With so little oxygen that high, it was hard to go 30 steps without taking a mini-break and contemplating your sanity. It was invigoratingly freezing at the top of Southeast Asia. We waited for about 30 minutes as the sun was taking it's sweet time. Alas, the sun was blanketed over like I wish I was. We basically ran down the entire mountain in 4 hours and were back in Kota Kinabalu for our flight back to Japan later that day. Our knees were jellified, our bodies tenderized, and our lungs at full size. It was an awesome trek, and an even better trip.

Borneo, Part II: Welcome to the Jungle

2007-01-17T21:21:00.000+09:00

Some of the oldest tropical rain forests in the world are rooted in Borneo. So, besides adventures under the sea, we decided to leave the oxygen tanks and deserted islands behind and hightail our sunburnt selves to some much needed shade. It turns out that rain forests aren't called rain forests for nothing. It rained so much that I think we were wetter trekking in the jungles than we were while scuba diving.

After a 2-hour ride in a van suited for munchkins and an hour long boat ride down a river of cafe au lait, we made it to our jungle camp. The boat ride was filled with sights of numerous species of monkeys, birds galore, and many logs that looked like crocodiles. In particular, Proboscis monkeys are a rare species that lives along the banks of the river. It is known for its long nose, big belly, and never staying put long enough for me to get a good picture of one.

Situated along the Kinabatangan River for 3 days, we had days filled with boat rides in oxbow lakes and through forests filled with water up to our shoulders. There was plenty of time to lounge about playing gin rummy and haphazardly swim in the silty alligator-infested water. It was awesome zooming through mangrove forests with an aluminum boat and outboard motor with monkeys dancing in the trees to the left, right, and above you. Colorful flashes from flapping wings would alert your eye to birds that make cardinals and goldfinches seem dreary. We were lucky enough to see a pair of orangutans mauling a few unlucky trees while sporadically stopping for photos.

Our nights were filled with jungle expeditions. During the night walks we would see scores of frogs exhibiting more colors than a Picasso painting, sleeping birds, and enough mosquitos to pick you up and fly away. Scorpions, tarantulas, and millipedes all decided to unite in Borneo and form a coalition of insects that I am repulsed by the most. However, I soon learned to love one species of millipede because if you rubbed its back he would spray you with the scent of almonds. We spotted many birds perched on their favorite bedtime limb during the night boat rides. It was an exploration filled with superlatives and loss of words.

Borneo, Part I: A Whole New World

2007-01-12T08:36:00.000+09:00

When I was a young lad, I used to sit and wonder what it would be like to be a mermaid princess. I could zoom along the sea floor and sleep with the fishes. I would befriend the fish and fight the evil eel king. Oh, how I would dream of such a life! Down there...under the sea...that is where I wanted to be. However, I learned that this dream would never come true. Sadly, I was limited to life on land, with feet. That is, until I learned how to scuba dive.

Enid and I spent 5 days diving in bodacious Borneo. It was Enid's first time diving, so she was busy getting her open water diver certification, while I was working toward getting my advanced open water dive certification. And what a place to do it. Off the southeastern coast of the Malaysian state of Sabah lies Sipidan, one of the top dive sites in all the world. Sipidan was formed by a mud volcano rising up from the dark abyss below. Coral grew, then fish came, and eventually palm trees and other plants formed on the island. It is paradise, especially under the water. There are 600 meter walls on all sides of the island going deep into the dark blue oblivion below. A plethora of coral, over 3000 species of fish, and hundreds of turtles call Sipidan home.

On every dive, I saw giant turtles gently gliding through the water, sharks hunting for unsuspecting coral-basking fish, moray eels popping their heads out of crevices, triggerfish darting around, pufferfish ho-humming themselves into shelter, and just about every fish in the movie "Finding Nemo." It was ridiculous really. Sipidan is an underwater wildlife glutton. I got my hands manicured by cleaner shrimp, and my finger was almost bitten off by an eel. I saw lionfish, crocodilefish, and frogfish (oh my!). There were huge cyclones of trevally and barracuda that would swallow you up in orchestrated maneuvers that would make synchronized swimmers wet their pants. Hordes of bumphead parrotfish grazed on the coral like cows munching on grass. Blue-spotted stingrays were spotted on some dive sites like coins in a fountain. It was, in a word, indescribable.

I was lucky enough to have a camera during one of my dives. I was lent the camera for the photography portion of my advanced course. I learned all the inner working of underwater photography (can't you tell from all of my subpar pictures?). I also did a deep dive, where I went to a depth of 35 meters, many drift dives, some semi-wreck dives, and a plethora of naturalist dives. I can't wait to go again!

M.I.A.

2006-12-22T22:12:00.000+09:00

Gone to Borneo. Be back in 18 days. Might post stuff along the way.

Happy Holidays.

Mish Mash

2006-12-19T16:31:00.000+09:00

Last Sunday was the Uenomura nursery school Christmas festival. It was filled with strange dances, the Christmas story (Japanified Bible version), kids dressed up as ninjas, kids doing their Elvis impersonations, and kimono clad youngsters. It was awesome. I had the pleasure of leading them in two English "Christmas" songs--The ABCs and Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star. It was the best Christmas program I've ever been to...and most untraditional.

The Chair

2006-12-18T08:39:00.000+09:00

There is a wonderful gym in the mountains near my village. It is free, located in a beautiful building designed by a famous architect (I don't know who), and steaming hot green tea is available free of charge for your post-workout consumption. I make it to the gym about three times a week, and usually the place is completely empty. On the rare instance that someone else is in the gym while I am there, they are usually older than 60, wear aprons while pumping iron, and need to set their cane down before getting on the treadmill. No joke. Just recently, we have developed "Brains and Brawn Night." "Brains and Brawn Night" involves working out and then playing a rousing game of Scrabble afterwards with fellow English teachers.

Anyway, the real purpose of this post is to show you the amazing massage chair at the gym. It looks like a recliner made for Darth Vader. This is how it works: you put your favorite CD into the CD player in the arm rest of the chair, flip the shield down, and give a relaxing listen. The tunes will melt all of your aches and pains away as the chair massages you to the beat of the music. In a word: divine.

The guy in the chair is Noli--The ivy leaguin', paleontology studyin', off-road unicyclin', two-letter-Scrabble-word-spellin' Texan. Who ever said the only good things to come out of Texas were grapefruit and Tex-Mex?

Dress in Layers

2006-12-10T22:55:00.000+09:00

Enid and I and some other friends renovated an old Japanese style house in the mountains of Ueno this weekend. It was surprisingly fun and rejuvenating to get out of the office and do some manual labor. After we finished, Enid wasn't quite ready to take a breather, so she took the liberty of wearing all of my hang-up clothes and danced around. Some things to note: she is wearing a Christmas stocking on her right foot, 3 hats, my Japanese yukata, and drinking...wait for it...water. Yes, she doesn't need any liquid courage to look this ridiculous.

I have to take credit for the artistic and nauseating cinematography. I feel it helps portray the mood at that moment.

Seoul Food: Glutton Fest 2006

2006-12-03T13:13:00.000+09:00

It has been a week now since I returned from South Korea, and I think my stomach is still full. Yes, we saw "the sights," and we talked with "the locals," and got Korean "massages." However, most importantly, we ate! Seoul food is nothing like grits and cornbread. Seoul food is the meat and potatoes of Asian cuisine, minus the potatoes. Yes, Korean food is basically meat--be it beef, pork, intestines, chicken, or dog. Oh, and kimchi. And for those of you who don't know what kimchi is...it is...umm...delicious. It is pickled cabbage mixed with a secret family recipe of 14 different herbs and spices. Kimchi is to Korea, as miso soup is to Japan, as curry is to India, as vodka is to Russians*. In other words, you can't have a meal without it.

*If I happen to die of exposure to Polonium, you know who did it.

Urano-sensei and I made our rounds 'round Seoul in search of the most delectable dishes, choicest cuts of meat, and frostiest mugs of beer. His Japanese and my English came in handy when coming across the typical Korean waitress. If she didn't speak English, chances are she spoke Japanese...or vice versa. The fact that Urano-sensei is a math teacher also came in handy when counting the exorbitant amount of complimentary dishes on the table (26 at one restaurant). It was so gluttonous, it was sinful.

FYI: If you want to be a cook, I suggest never moving to Korea to start a restauant. As you can probably tell by the pictures, you basically cook your own food on a little stove in/on the table before you. It is awesome, but I don't want you to discover this after landing at the airport in Seoul and handing out your resume filled with culinary cum laudes. That would be embarrassing. On the bright side, it would be a pretty lax job.

Nihongo-fied: City Hall, et. al.

2006-11-28T16:24:00.000+09:00

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

2006-11-21T16:03:00.000+09:00

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

2006-11-14T09:48:00.000+09:00

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

2006-11-05T21:34:00.000+09:00

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.

Schadenfreude: Part Deux

2006-10-30T11:27:00.000+09:00

.....

Lame Battle Scar

A Saturday night festival with Pilsner Urquell

Shipped straight from Czecho...I must've had twelve

I milled and chatted, then walked and fell

It rang in pain, like a dying bell

It being my bow that's shaped like an "L"

I talked to the doctor while it kinda swelled

He said "you'll be fine. It's just for a spell"

I smiled and chuckled, but wanted to yell

For x-ray or not, I can just tell

It is faux pas to sport a cast tattooed "Get Well!"

.....

Two Weddings and Some Terminals

2006-10-19T17:06:00.000+09:00

After many lines, checks, metal detectors, refresher courses on what is legal (a butter knife) and what it is illegal (lip balm) on a plane, customs officials, and passport stampers, I made it to America. I came home to go to a couple weddings. And luckily, I made it through customs with unscathed wedding presents, a Japanese care package (whale meat, sake, and "delicious" fish snacks). I was so relieved when I checked the registry that no one else had already purchased those gifts. That would've been embarrassing!

Both weddings were absolutely beautiful. Dan and Molly's wedding was in Rochester the first weekend I was home. Then, Brian and Alisa's was the following weekend in beautiful Bismarck, ND. Both guys were college roommates of mine at St. Olaf College. It was strange being in a place where I understood everything that was going on. It was also strange and surreal seeing two of my best friends tying the noose...woops...I mean knot. In all seriousness, both couples are blessed to have each other. I am happy for all 4 of them and wish them all the best.

I went early to Bismarck, ND for Brian and Alisa's wedding because I was a groomsman. I have to admit, Bismarck wasn't on the top of my list for places to visit during my short stint home. It just so happens that the bride (a very beautiful one at that) is from there and that's where the wedding was held. After experiencing all that Bismarck has to offer, I have to say I had an awesome time. The groom's dinner was entertaining, the rehearsals were bearable because of cute bridesmaids, and the service and reception were perfect. OH! And there were great friends and family to talk with along the way.

The morning of the wedding, the groom's company got together for a little morning pow wow. While the bridesmaids were getting their hair done, we went to Bismarck's world famous Donut Hole Cafe for....wait for it....bismarks. That's right, we ate bismarks in Bismarck. Ingenious. Soon after, we needed some milk to wash down the custard, cream, and jelly fillings, so we made a trip out to the famous dairy town of New Salem. Besides dairy farms, New Salem is famous for one thing, Salem Sue: The World's Largest Holstein Cow. It is impossible to miss Salem Sue as you drive by on I-94. Also, it would be an utter (or udder) shame to not get some pictures with her.

Captain and the Coots

2006-10-15T22:52:00.000+09:00

coot
n.

Any of several dark-gray aquatic birds of the genus Fulica of North America and Europe, having a black head and neck, lobed toes, and a white bill.
Informal. An eccentric or crotchety person, especially an eccentric old man.

During my time home, my dad and I had "Day With Dad." Monday was "Day With Dad" because as a pastor they have the luxury of having those horribly manic Mondays off. "Day With Dad" started off a bit slow because of me waking up at 1:30 in the afternoon due to my jet lag. However, after mentally waking up on the right side of the bed in the wrong time zone, I was all game. After a breakfast of Skittles and Chex brand cereal, we were off. Where to? Well, dad got a new boat while I was in Japan, and he happened to be fishing alongside the beaut on the dock as I walked down groggy and bed-headed. I think he was trying to catch some fatted bass to celebrate the return of his prodigal son. Unfortunately, on this day the fish were not feeding thousands, or even two. Instead, they were feeding on my boyish frustration and dad's martyred, overly forgiving Rapala.

Dad put aside his fishing rod and climbed into the boat. As I pushed off, I nearly had to walk on water before christening the boat I have anticipated riding in for many a Japanese month. Simply put, it was heavenly. Dad gunned the 75 horses in the back in the direction of a pile of black specks toward the horizon. The black specks: coots. We rode amongst the birds as they flapped clumsily to get out of the way. It was exhilariting. Dad rode like a bat out of hell and epitomized the slogan on his hat (see above).

"Day With Dad" didn't end on the lake. Later we drank a few brews (possibly my first beers with my pa, which is a moment I think everyone remembers), watched some sports, and talked about women (i.e. my mom and sister). I drove the 4-wheeler around. It was a great day...a day I cherish and a day that has made it both more difficult and easier to be away from home and my dad (and you too, mom).

Sociological Perspectives

2006-10-12T11:42:00.000+09:00

After a million hour flight back to Japan in which I sat in an area smaller than a coffin, I am home. Yes, I just left home for my other home. Here are a few differences between my American and Japanese homes:

1. My cat in America is bigger than most of the dogs here in Japan. I think my cat needs his stomach stapled.
2. In America, you have to sit on the floor when there are no more chairs left. In Japan, they don't believe in chairs.
3. In Japan, I have to invent storylines to go with TV shows. In America, I don't have that luxury.
4. Monday Night Football is aired on Tuesday nights in Japan.
5. In America, bowing is a rare sight seen only on Broadway and occasionally at sporting events. Here in Japan you get to bow after saying your name correctly in Japenglish, after you meet people, and just about any other time you are unsure if you should bow or not. My favorite bow: bowing to an empty baseball field after practice.
6. Door frames (and, not surprisingly, my cognitive abilities) are higher in America.
7. Rice is served with basically every meal in Japan. In America: cholesterol. Rice is saved for weddings.
8. Japan hasn't discovered one of the greatest inventions of all time: fire. That is why sushi is in existence. True story.
9. In Japan, kamikaze means "divine wind." In America, it means "you're nuts."
10. In Japan, obese people are athletes (think sumo). In America, athletes are the only people who aren't obese.
11. In Japan, I am blonde. In America, I am the brown-haired boy with tainted Scandinavian blood.

Homeward Bound

2006-09-29T00:03:00.000+09:00

After 14 months, to say I am looking forward to setting foot on American soil would be an understatement. Endorphins are buzzing around my brain like bees around the hive. Family. Friends. Food. Over-sized everything. Gluttony (yes, I know it is one of the evil sins). Pizza without corn and ketchup on it. Boat rides. Spices other than salt. Fast English. Not speaking slowly. Twins. Vikes. Celebrating with friends. Radio. My dad's sermons. My mom's cooking. My parents conversation. Hugs. The thrill of driving on the "wrong" side of the road. Two letters: TV. Mexican food. Comedy. Mom's meatloaf. Dad's stories. Microbrews. 4-wheeler rides. My cat. Sit-down toilets. A bed! Re-energizing myself. Not hitting my head on things. Sharing. Listening. Talking. Understanding. Picking on my older brother. Sassing my sis. Being home. Catching up.

Tohoku: 東北

2006-09-14T16:16:00.000+09:00

Single, white male looking for serenity, beauty, and openness that other parts of Japan fail to even acknowledge. I am looking for that all-natural Japan--a place where the only things in my periphery are plush horizons, virgin forests, and sunsets so beautiful you store it in your memory bank, not your digital memory card (hypocrisy to follow). In my opinion, natural beauty trumps cosmopolitan aesthetics like queens over jacks. Where can I find such a place? The answer: Tohoku.

Tohoku is the northernmost region of the island of Honshu in Japan. Tohoku is the Japanese equivalent of the scandinavian upper midwest states like Nort' Dakota and Minneso-tah. It's a place where the locals' intellects are questioned based on their speech patterns and strange verbal idiosyncrasies. Of course, I wouldn't really know anything about that due to my Minnesota upbringing and poor Japanese skills. I did, however, have an English-speaking Japanese buddy along with me to enlighten me. His name: Kaz.

Doogie Howser is to medical science as Kaz is to English. To put it a different way: Bobby Fisher is to chess as Kaz is to English. Or, if analogies just aren't your thing: Kaz is the best English speaker I have ever met. But as most of you know, most English speakers aren't very good. The best speakers are made in Japan, like Sony and Panasonic (rim shot! Thank you...thank you very much). Anyway, he is simply a phenom. In fact, his English are more better than mine English.

Kaz and I road tripped throughout the Tohoku region for about a week. We hit the big stops along the way, ate the local specialty dishes, and took in some of the most amazing nature I could have asked for. We saw a pagoda in the middle of the woods that had more stories than The Lord of the Rings series--five to be exact. We explored a couple castles, took in a sumo museum, and followed the ancient trails of the famous haiku writer Matsuo Basho. I had the pleasure of taking an oceanside outdoor bath on the edge of the Pacific, and swimming in the clearest lake in Japan.

Kaz taught me Japanese, and I taught him slang. I now have a favorite Japanese song, and he knows some ebonics. It was a good old-fashioned road trip--taking in the sights and sounds, exchanging ideas, and getting out on the open road. Just substitute the beef jerky for some seaweed, and trade that coke for some green tea.

Smörgåsbord

2006-09-05T21:18:00.000+09:00

The summer haze is melting to discernible horizons. The sky is clearer and the sun is more evident than ever, but tan lines are fading fast. Looking at my feet and the criss-cross pattern left from shade and sun and a pair of sandals, these tan lines are a great mnemonic for an amazing summer. I hope my memories don't fade like my tan does.

After Hokkaido, Luke and I still had a lot of exploring to do. So, we jumped on the Japanese band-wagon, known as "bullet train," and migrated south. Travelling at 285 kph, we were in Kyoto in no time. We spent two days in Kyoto riding bikes from temple to shrine and shrine to temple. We walked under thousands of torii, pedalled down dangerously small streets in Gion where we were paying more attention to the geisha than to the road, got a full tan due to the reflection of the gold-plated Kinkaku-ji Temple, slept in the sketchiest hostel this side of the equator, and tried not to think while thinking "Don't think!" near the edge of a famous 15 rock zen garden. Supposedly, you can start to see many different things represented by the "strategic" positions of the rocks if you meditate/don't think/hallucinate/transcend being long enough. Luke and I were there for nearly an hour and we walked away with the following conversation:

L: "That was really peaceful."

I: "Yeah. It was. I felt so content and at peace. I feel like I could stay there all day."

L: "Me too."
I: "So what did you see?"
L: "I saw 15 rocks and a tourist trap. You?"
I: "12 rocks, 2 stones, and a boulder."

***Note: Luke did not actually say that, I just added that because I have the power as narrator. I was still in euphoric bewilderment thus I can not recall his comment verbatim***

We said our sayonaras to Kyoto and went further on down the train line to Himeji. Himeji is home to the most beautiful and most famous castle in Japan, aptly named Himeji Castle. Now, I am no castle expert, but I would have to say that, yeah, I agree...it's the nicest castle I have ever seen (FYI: castles seen: 4). We took siege upon the castle, climbed up its impenetrable defenses with the help of sidewalks and handrails, and guffed with our 80-year old tour guide.

Like fall fowl, we kept heading south. Eventually we came to Hiroshima, missing the 61-year anniversary of the dropping of the A-bomb by a couple days. Hiroshima is a very international, open, beautiful city. It is hard to imagine what it looked like 61 years ago. Luke and I went to the A-bomb museum to truly understand the reasons, impact, and consequences of the explosion. The museum was refreshing because it didn't portray Japan as being only a victim--it gave a the complete history of all events leading up to the dropping. Of course, it was very sad, disturbing, and at times too vivid. The museum also focused on the disarmament of all nuclear weapons and the absurdity of their usage. There is a flame in the park outside that will remain lit until there are no longer nuclear weapons in the world.

Just off the coast of Hiroshima is Miyajima, an enchanted island filled with day adventures, monkeys, garbage-eating (tame) deer, and an enormous sea-borne torii. Miyajima is recognized as one of Japan's top 3 places for scenic beauty. We got off the ferry and were instantly outnumbered by deer. I'm glad they didn't know about that deer I bagged back in 9th grade. Anway, Luke and I were hot, so we decided to take a dip into the Pacific. Most tourists come to see the giant red torii and snap a few photos. Luke and I wrestled in the water near it, cutting our feet on the sea shells. It was obliterating to our feet, but so energizing to the young boys still trapped inside of us. After we finished, we hobbled to a nearby shop and bought a heaping pile of strawberry shaved ice. With ice cream headaches still fresh, we left our bags at the shop (with the permission of the owner) and hiked up to the top of the 530 meter mountain. We barely made it back to the shop before dusk. The old Japanese lady was waiting for us and exalting in our return. She was worried about us. Luke and I grabbed our bags and were about ready to head out when we were herded onto the porch for beer and crumpets (read as: tofu). It was awesome. I am continually amazed by the generosity of Japanese people. Anyway, we sat and talked over three beers. The woman spoke very good English and told us of her (single) daughter living in America. Her husband listened attentively with timely chuckles. Later, he showed us his sword collection, and we learned of his samurai blood.

The next couple of days were spent in Nara and Iga-Ueno. Nara was the ancient capital of Japan before Kyoto. It has the largest Buddha statue in the world which is in the largest wooden building in the world, a very famous 5-storied pagoda, and a beautiful summer fire festival. Iga-Ueno is little known outside of Japan...it is known as the birthplace of ninjitsu and has an existing ninja house and museum there. Luke and I went there in hopes of being excepted into the brotherhood, but we were too big. It turns out that about 95% of the tourists that go there are male between the ages of 7 -13. With that said, it was awesome! We got to flip through spinning doors, whip some throwing stars (I won a free T-shirt, size M for boys), and watch an amazing ninja fight. Luke was instructed to not throw the shuriken (throwing stars) like a baseball. And he took his advice seriously, most likely because the man was dressed all in black and sporting the two things that Rafael in Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles used.

Well, that rounds out that leg of the summer. Luke and I headed back to Tokyo and made the most out of all the options and the wild night life there. We slept in capsule hotels for three straight nights and did a bit of souvenir shopping before he had to go back. It was sad to see him leave...a friend within arm's reach was replaced with a swollen lump in my throat and tickling tears coming down my cheeks. I went back to my village feeling more alone than ever before, but also more refreshed and satisfied with life than I can remember.

Stiff Upper Lip

2006-09-02T18:20:00.000+09:00

This has been the first weekend in about 4 months in which I actually stayed in Uenomura. Normally, I can't deal with the deafening quietness....the low-key nights....the simple living....and having to cook for myself. Sounds almost unliveable, doesn't it? Uenomura has no conbini, convenience store, and yes, they are everywhere in Japan. In fact, 7-11 is now Japanese owned, and I secretly think the name describes the location of the stores being seven to eleven kilometers apart. Also, Uenomura is the Florida of Japan; over 50% of the population is older than 65. Thus, the only young people to hang out with are the students I teach during the week, and they aren't really into downing a few cold beers.

With that said, I do do a lot in my quaint village. There is women's volleyball practice on Tuesdays. Pottery class, which can be a real challenge on the mind when you don't speak the lingitty, on Wednesdays. Thursdays are reserved for my English conversation class. And about every other Saturday, there is a Japanese class for some of the foreign wives (and there are quite a few) that live in Ueno. I hit all that stuff up occasionally, however, I never miss a volleyball practice.

Last night I went out with my Japanese friend to see a play. We soon found out that the play wasn't showing, so we decided to hit up another venue. Bish. Bash. Bosh--about 30 minutes later I was dressed in a kimono, sporting a Japanese poncho, sword, and straw hat. I was dancing the extremely slow Japanese dance (called buyo). Also, I agreed to perform in front of the village during the next holiday, "Old People's Day." I kid you not, there is an "Old People's Day" here in Japan. Anyway, they practice every night (I am about to head there now, actually) and they take it very seriously. So far I have only done the dance with my teacher, and I basically just mimic all the contortional movements he does. The crowd seems to get a kick out of my limberless frame and short kimono.

This morning I went to a bar-b-que, Japanese style, on the riverside. It was with my Japanese class. I found the whole scenario very peaceful. I helped cook and prepare all the food with the 40-something year old women. Later, I found my niche while teaching the young'ens how to skip rocks. It made me realize that, although I thought I was seeing so much on all those weekends when I would leave and explore Japan, there is quite a bit to do right here at home.

Stay tuned for future installments, including exploring Kansai, Tohoku, and hopefully a video of me doing my thing on the Japanese dance floor. Until then. Oh, here is a picture of me with a mustache. Does that make you proud, Pops? I had to shave off my extremely manly beard because the principal would not allow a scruffy hooligan working at his school. He actually told me the children might be scared! I wasn't going to shave it off, but he was gracious enough to make a deal: he gave me vacation time so I could come home. That's right, I'll be home from 9/29 - 10/9 for a couple college buddies' weddings.

Holy Hokkaido

2006-08-23T00:15:00.000+09:00

Japan's frontier could easily be mistaken for its enormous electronic boom or outstanding automotive undertakings. However, to me, Japan's frontier is Hokkaido. Hokkaido is the northernmost and second largest island of Japan, and the most sparsely populated. It is so wild and untamed that if Clint Eastwood and Laura Ingalls Wilder happened to be Japanese, they would duel with yella' belly chickens and sleep in a small establishment amongst many grasses while calling Hokkaido home. This is not like the rest of Japan. This is Hokkaido.

Many starry nights and one full moon ago, Luke, Ashlee, Lisa, and myself packed up our covered wagon (read as: Toyota) and headed to the Sea of Japan, where we decided to ford the great void using an 18-hour ferry ride to the northland. The ride was anything but uneventful. We befriended some old Japanese men and exchanged some amenities. They popped open a fresh bottle of sake while we offered America's favorite: licorice. Not long afterwards we got a better understanding of each other's cultures as we were exchanging stories while sipping our sake through our licorice. And what would a cultural exchange be without a little competition? In a haze, Luke was challenged to a trio of arm wrestling matches. Let it be known that Luke is required to carry a concealed weapon permit when he wears long-sleeved clothing because of his upper body appendages. Yes, they are that lethal. Our new, old friends put up a good fight, but they probably should've challenged me if they wanted to boost their self-esteem.

I woke up the next morning at sea, just off the coast of Hokkaido, to the smell of fish and salty sea air, a metastasizing taste of yesterday's alcohol in my mouth, and to the semi-melodic hum of a ferry crashing into waves as it throttled down. Emma Lazarus came to mind as both the colossal island and golden sun rose up out of the horizon. We waved our waves and bowed our bows to our Japanese friends as they gave us a farewell present (a bottle of sake). We were born again as our car exited the ferry and entered a new world.

After departing the pier we headed out on some of the widest and least congested roads Japan has to offer. Where were we going? Well, simply nature (yes, I realize that sounds like a brand of granola bar). If you don't like nature, you don't go to Hokkaido. In particular, we went to Furano. Furano is in the middle of Hokkaido, far away from the freshest sushi, but oh so close to the choicest cheese, wine, and grape juice. We indulged. Also, we went to some of Furano's biggest treasures: the flower fields. Furano is known throughout Japan for its massive lavendar fields along with many other flowers. So after touring the grape juice, wine, and cheese factories, we partook in some flower sniffing with bellies bloated, heads spinning, and purple mustaches.

The next four days we camped and hiked in three different national parks--Daisetsuzan, Shiretoko, and Akan. Daisetsuzan is the largest national park in Japan. It is home to many rugged snow-capped mountains, the longest and deepest gorge in Japan, and miles upon miles of hiking trails. Like just about everywhere else in Japan, there are many onsen in Hokkaido. Onsen are public baths of hot, natural spring water, oftentimes containing many minerals that help relax sore bones and muscles and keep you looking young. We would generally take an onsen everyday after a long hike or cramped drive in the car.

Shiretoko National Park is the easternmost peninsula in Japan. It is also a UNESCO World Heritage Site because of its scenic beauty, untamed wilderness, and ice flows from the cold Pacific during the winter time. In fact, Shiretoko is the southernmost location in the northern hemisphere where you can view the ice flows. Also, Shiretoko is the Ainu word (the indigenous people of Hokkaido) for "the ends of the earth." I can testify that it truly is out at the end of the road far away from the rest of the world. We did a day hike to the top of the tallest mountain on the peninsula, Rausu-dake, on a sunny day. Well, it was sunny at the bottom at least. About 3 hours into the hike, the weather changed for the worse. It started raining, it got cold, we were walking on ice, snow, and mud, and the view was about as far as you could reach. Luke and I didn't get discouraged though, in fact, it invigorated us. So, we ran up the mountain in our gym shorts and $3 rain jackets. After passing a plethora of Japanese hikers gawking at us on their way down with looks that my mother would often give me after I did something completely brainless, we made it to the top! The view was supposed to be amazing; from it you would normally be able to see an active volcano (Io-san) the Okhotsk Sea, the Pacific Ocean, and the disputed islands off the coast that are now Russian owned and operated. However, on this particular day we couldn't even see ten feet below the summit. It was pitiful, remarkably ugly, and hypothermic, but it was also awesome and life-enhancing. To celebrate, we cooked ramen at the top and talked with the 72-year old couple that also somehow miraculously made the trip. Never did cup-o-ramen taste so good.

We ran down the entire mountain in about 1.5 hours. At the bottom our legs were aching like an arthritic tap dancer trying to keep the beat to Rimsky-Korsakov's Flight of the Bumblebee. We found the nearest beer vending machine and rotenburo (outdoor onsen) and relaxed. The rotenburo happened to be right next to a nature trail where lots of tourists (including Japanese teenage girls) would walk. Luke and I were in no mood to be modest, so we just ignored their girlish giggles and recuperated, naturally.

Thankfully, the rest of the trip wasn't as physically demanding as Daisetsuzan and Shiretoko. We drove along the coastline, taking in the Russian islands and panoramic views of the earth's meniscus. We feasted on sushi and seafood ramen filled with crab, clam, octopus, and other strange things. In Akan we visited an Ainu village and learned a little about their dying heritage. Sapporo was filled with visits to their famous beer gardens and meanderings down "Ramen Alley." Also, we hit up the dance clubs there....so, I had to trade in my hiking boots for my Chacos. Anyway, it was an awesome trip and a place where I would love to go back.

Tall Foreigner Visits Tall Expatriate in Japan -- Country Altered Forever

2006-08-03T20:33:00.000+09:00

Gunma, JAPAN -- Lucas Coan Paulsen, a high school teacher from Brooklyn, New York, normally spends his summer afternoons visiting the local Dairy Queens in his native Iowa while contemplating what barn party to attend and which hog farmer's daughter to get smitten with. Paulsen, known for his tall, athletic frame and insatiable basketball skills, often shouted "I-OOOWA!!" while watching Big Ten football and jockeying with his housemates for a place on the sofa while attending college at St. Olaf. This is where I first met him, and this is where I learned that the only thing good to come out of Iowa is I-35.

Some say Luke was born with silver chopsticks in his mouth. I can testify after watching him eat, that, yes, he was. No tutorial was needed for this guy. Luke with chopsticks is analogous to Gretzky with his hockey stick, and I don't mean he plays with his food.

Paulsen decided to spice up his summer by visiting the wasabi-filled, hand-shaking-phobic country of Japan, and me of course. This being his first run-in with Asian culture since he watched Karate Kid in 3rd grade, Luke (or as known by the Japanese, "Rukie") has been partaking in Japanese customs ever since--bowing like a bobblehead doll, eating rice and raw fish with two small sticks, and seeing all that the country has to offer.

That's right! Hear no evil. Speak no evil. See no evil. And, smell no evil.

Once settled in the quiet mountain village I call home, there will be no time to unpack his suitcases because Luke and I are planning on perusing the entire country in order to find the best tea, sushi, sights, and sounds that the country has to offer during his month long stay here. The trip itinerary goes as follows: First, Uenomura (my village and one of the smallest villages in all of Japan, if you ask me) to see what life in the (imported) shoes of Isaac looks like. Then, the northernmost island of Hokkaido to do some camping and hiking while peering across bays into Russia and shooing off bears the size of 4 sumo wrestlers. Next, we will be whisked off into the sunset in the land of the rising sun while travelling at 285 kph on the uber-cool bullet trains to see the cultural side of Japan in beautiful Kyoto, Nara, and Hiroshima. Lastly, Tokyo. How will Tokyo vie versus the city that never sleeps (a place where Luke calls home)?

Of course, there will be will be many maniacal meanderings and unplanned scamperings to places well off the radar screen. I am excited to see what the month has in store. Moreoever, I am just happy to spend this summer with a guy that is as big and goofy as I am. Ready or not, Japan, here we come!

Cloud-grabber Mountain: A Survivor Story

2006-07-16T09:52:00.000+09:00

Kumotori-san, 雲取山, on the border of Tokyo, Saitama prefecture, and Yamanashi prefecture literally means cloud-grabber mountain. It is the highest point in Tokyo and a short 1-hour train ride from the glitz and glamour of one of the largest cities on the planet. It is also in the beloved and too-frequently-visited Chichibu-Tama National Park. My fellow hiking partner, Daniel (you may remember him from the Asamayama hike), and I decided to brave the everchanging weather, rise above the stratus clouds and plow through the amoebic cumulus clouds in order to catch a few peeks of the surrounding peaks.

The hike to Kumotori-san is a 2-day affair, complete with summiting about a half dozen peaks along the way. It isn't too difficult...even you, yes YOU, could do this hike. You just need to pack up your camping gear, bring some food, and be sure to not forget the water. Yep, simple, right? Well, not exactly.

It was getting dark after about 4 hours of hiking on that first day, and we were nearing our campsite--an area right next to a small cottage (6000 yen/night) out in the middle of nowhere where you can stay and eat and replenish your water. Being the robust yenny-pinchers that we are, we had previously decided to take the true and cheap route by camping (300 yen/night). There were only about 20 minutes left of hiking until we could finally settle down for the night. That's when it happened. I remember it vividly, viciously. It struck like a viper and tightened like a boa. Muscles I never knew I had were congregating and glowing in pain like fireflies in a 7-year old's Mason jar. I was immobilized; my legs turned to knotted oak trunks. I was miles away from any sort of civilization, and I was cramping up.

In that circumstance, I did what any real man would have done: I rubbed my leg over and over again with a comical, painfully silly, and pathetic expression on my face while saying "Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!" I finished the last gulp of my water, and I limped my way towards Base Camp 1 (it's not actually named that...I gave it that name to add drama).

Once we reached Base Camp 1, we set up camp. Base Camp 1 was not what we were expecting. The cottage was nothing more than an abandoned, boarded-up building with no sort of clean drinking water. We made a crucial mistake--we assumed. We assumed there would be water...that we would be fully hydrated (with extra to spare) for the 8 hour hike the next day in the stifling heat. Instead, I wrestled in my sleeping bag that night praying that it would rain so that in the morning I could collect the water from the pans I set out and not hike the remaining portion with cramps that felt like death and could only be healed by one, H2O.

The next morning we woke up to no avail. It didn't rain, there was no water. We were going to die. We started our hike with no real plan. In about 5 minutes our plans changed when we came upon a brand new hikers lodge. It was our oasis on the mountainside with enough clean water for a blue whale to find refuge. I downed about a gallon of water and filled my 2 liter bottle for the remainder of the hike. Sure, we felt kind of stupid for not figuring this out the night before, but in actuality, I never felt better. The rest of the hike went splendidly. Ironically enough we had breathtaking views of Mount Fuji from the top of Cloud-grabber Mountain. This is very strange considering about 99% of all summer skies are covered in a thick haze. We also saw a couple snakes, a horde of monkeys, and some deer walked by our tent during the night.

Cultural Realization #523

2006-07-13T19:31:00.000+09:00

Sports are a universal language, the World Cup is proof. Well, except for Americans....they don't speak the language of soccer, ahem football, too fluently. I am a coach for the Uenomura junior high school baseball team. It is nice to coach something as simple as baseball. Although I don't speak Japanese, the sport itself transcends all languages. It is simple. Also, it is convenient that English phrases, such as "nice pray", "two outto", and "nice catchie," have hurdled the language barrier relatively phonetically unscathed.

Last weekend, I also learned that basketball needs no language to be played. Sure, it would help if I knew what the play was and what my teammates were telling me. But there are certain things that trump communication in sports. For instance, generally, being big dwarfs being small and knowing the play. Thus, there isn't much to say when sheer dominance is being performed on the court and you don't even know what your teammates are saying. I don't want to say it was talent, it wasn't. Instead, it was a combination of being nearly eight inches taller than everyone else and them never playing against someone eight inches taller than them. In a way, I felt like my, then, teenage brother playing against myself (a chubby, underdeveloped lad). No wonder he always wanted to play against me--talk about a self-esteem booster.

Anyway, Brad and I had a fantastic time playing in the tournament. Last weekend was just the first couple rounds of the tourney. We won the first game 65-15 and the second by nearly 30. Our team consisted of all Japanese people and two foreigners. We were faux pas to say the least. We were turning more heads than a phillips screw driver. Our teammates really seemed to appreciate our contributions though, so they didn't seem to mind our incessant yelling of encouraging English phrases. Note: our rendition of "And 1" didn't really work. I guess cheers aren't directly translatable. Also, the ref did have to blow the whistle to tell me to not touch the ball after we (read as Brad or I) made a basket. I didn't actually know what she said, but I said I was sorry in Japanese, basically the only phrase I know. Anyway, it was a fun time...enjoy the videos.

Shrines, Trains, and Autonomy

2006-07-11T08:56:00.000+09:00

From living 12 miles outside of a midwestern town of 566 people to visiting Tokyo on a whim, life brings awesome paths. As a pre-driver's license, sugar-addicted adolescent, I remember riding my 1-speed bike (the kind where you break by peddling backwards) that long hilly road into town just to buy a pack of baseball cards and a can of coke. In that amount of time now, I can go from my little mountain village in the middle of Japan to the bustling streets of Tokyo. The amount of open land and sky seemed infinite in west-central Minnesota. Whereas, the only thing that seems infinite in Japan are the overcast skies and the line of cars.

Above is a picture of me on my way back from Tokyo. In the background is the blurred image of a torii. Torii are gateways to Shinto shrines and can be seen all over Japan. In Japanese, torii is comprised of two kanji; 鳥 tori (bird); and 居 i (place). According to the mathematical law of summation, the two together create a place for birds--a perfect bird perch. Birds are considered messengers of the gods in Shintoism.

During the summer night festival in my village, some determined, young lads marched up the mountainside equipped with flaming torches to set ablaze the nearby torii. This is not seen as satanic, as in burning a religious symbol like the cross. Instead, it is a special celebration of something important that I never fully understood. To use an idiomatic expression: it's for the birds.

Asama-yama: 浅間山

2006-06-26T08:48:00.000+09:00

The Pacific Ring of Fire has always been fascinating to me. As a chubby elementary school student, I went to the IMAX theater in the science museum in Minnesota. With my head at full-tilt, I gawked as volcanoes were explored and (read the following with a Dr. Evil voice) liquid-hot magma spewed down moon-like mountainsides. It stuck with me. From that day on I vowed to be a vulcanologist and explore the innards of some of the most active volcanoes in the world. Sadly, that changed when I discovered sports and dreamed of being a professional athlete. It wasn't until last weekend that I got my second helping of volcanoes. My appetite for them has grown. I am satiated by their potential and unpredictability--much like that day-old, half-priced danish sitting at the bakery down the street.

Asama-yama is an active volcano located on the border between Gunma and Nagano. It is known as the ugly twin sister of Mount Fuji, which often causes Asama to get jealous and retaliate by throwing explosive tantrums. Its last eruption was in 2004. It is considered the most active volcano on the main island of Honshu.

My friend, Daniel, and I headed out at 4:30 am to tackle Asama. It was an absolutely beautiful day...one of those days where the temperature feels like you are in a cave--cool and crisp. The fog was thick in the morning but soon got burned off by the sun. Everything seemed to be going our way, that is, up until the volcano erupted and we had to hide behind a gigantic boulder until the lava flows stopped three days later, all the while playing dodgeball with fiery earth-born meteors of decapitation and death and feeling like God was spreading the ashes of the entire cremated population of a medium-sized country.

[That part was just for practicing creative writing and to see if you were paying attention. Also, I want to see if my mom can appreciate my sense of humor. I love you mom.]

The hike was everything you could hope for: beautiful forests, great weather, wildlife, serene mountain streams, panoramic views, and the pay-off at the end. The first half of the ascent was in a beautiful valley before going up the conical peak of the volcano proper. The trail was surrounded by lush vegetation and streaming with spider webs. For this reason, I let Daniel lead. Eventually, we made it to a semi-open area where we saw our first kamoshika (basically a deer/goat mix) and a natural spring. A couple hundred meters later, we ran into the ranger station and "volcano shelter." We went inside and talked with the ranger. From there to the top it was basically the rocky, Fuji-like portion of the hike, equipped with millions of rocks that will make your ankles cry and feet bleed. After what seemed like several nautical miles of climbing straight up, we made it! HALLELUJAH!

That first breath of cool, crisp, noxious, sulphur dioxide air said it all: we made it. It may have been the altitude, or the noxious gas, or even the beer we drank at the top...all's I know is that being up there was exhilarating and euphoric. We needed to celebrate, so we did what any person would do, we threw boulders into the fuming caldera below and listened patiently.

Another Time

2006-06-21T14:07:00.000+09:00

I received these photos from the editor of the village newspaper. They are from the all Gunma Sports Day in the capital city of Maebashi. You know, the one where I went to defend Ueno's outstanding tug-of-war performance the previous year, dressed in apparel suitable for a county fair worker directing cars, and accompanied by patrons in need of bran-filled diets and possible hip replacement surgery. Shockingly we lost the first match and were sent home. It is believed that the opposing team tugged with the help of a team member's motorized wheelchair.

These are some of my students' moms who I often play volleyball with every Tuesday night from 7:30 - 9:45 pm in the elementary school gym. They vehemently oppose me jumping during practice to block, spike, or cause havoc in any way, shape, or form. They say, "Iazacku! NO JUMPU!" Don't you love the attire?
This is a picture of the opening ceremony. Pictures like this make me sing a little song in my head that goes like this "One of these things is not like the others....one of these things is not like the others....one of these things is not like the others...(with catchy, cheesy beats and bops inserted in a buffoonish way)" Can you spot the gaijin (foreigner)? I think the prefectural governor was in shock when he noticed the big white guy saluting him....that, and the 7-foot tall squirrel mascot standing at his right.

If you want to read up on the festivities, go here.

An Ode to Eyes

2006-06-15T19:05:00.000+09:00

Today was the all-school volleyball tournament. My team consisted of 7 students and 1 other teacher. We were alright, although we only won one game. In the end though, only one highlight sticks out in my mind. One of my favorite students went up to spike the ball and I (on the opposing team) leaped up to block the spike. I ended up blocking the spike with my face. My glasses smashed up against my nose and fell to the floor. The crowd thought it was amazing. I thought my glasses were broken. Thankfully, they were just a little bent. After the tournament I proceeded to bend them back into place...I ended up snapping them right in half. I was so pissed. Here is a poem I wrote about it...it was quite cathartic.

.....

Problems are Larger Than They Appear
Subtitled: Five Senses

Anger fills me.
It's not that big of a deal.
I only broke my glasses
I can still hear, taste, talk, and feel.

Scratch that!
I'm in shock
For I am in Japan
and Japanese I cannot talk.

Wait, it gets worse
difficult questions are what I fear
the optometrist asking
and I unable to interpretively hear.

Oh well, oh well.
It's not all a waste.
I can still do lots of things,
like feel angry and taste.

.....

Extreme Japan

2006-06-14T14:22:00.000+09:00

Welcome to Japan--land of extremes! A place where you will find old ladies wearing kimono and riding futuristic bullet trains. A place where rich tradition meets technological super power. A place where you will find both the neanderthalian squatting toilet and the toilet that also acts as a washer, dryer, and bum-warmer (all with a half dozen settings). Japan is basically the only country in the world with sumo wrestling, yet it is one of the most difficult countries to find large-sized clothing. Japan can be bone-chilling on the northern island of Hokkaido and horribly hot on the southern islands of Okinawa. Around every corner, Japan has a cigarette vending machine. Also, around that corner you will find many old people (Japan has the highest life expectancy of all countries; about 81 years).

Japan is also a place where you will find extreme sports. I did, last weekend. In a tiny mountain town in northern Gunma lies everything extreme--whitewater rafting, caving, spelunking, (real) mountain biking, bungee jumping, kayaking, cliff jumping, backcountry skiing and snowboarding, and some other crazy stuff that I can't remember. Some friends and I did the whitewater rafting and canyoning combo.

First, the rafting. We stretched ourselves into our wet suits and strapped on our helmets. The water was a deep, dark, cold blue. The ride was amazing...filled with several instances where I thought we were going to flip the raft. I was in the very front and taking the brunt of all the incoming ice-cold water. It was awesome!

Canyoning, for those of you who don't know (which included me up until last weekend), is simply following a river downstream through a canyon. You do this by jumping off of waterfalls, repelling down cliffs and waterfalls, and doing your best floating log imitation and zooming down chutes and rapids--you rarely get out of the water. Some of the highlights included being shot down a 18-meter waterfall, doing a straight 12-meter drop into a pool below, and going down a series of small waterfalls in succession. Needlesss to say, all of it was extremely fun.

Sumo Sampler

2006-06-09T12:19:00.000+09:00

Call it a vocation...a calling...a nine-to-five eureka!...an unhealthy obsession. I call it sumo, my all of the above. Sumo is not a popular world sport. In fact, there are only a handful of countries that actually have sumo wrestling. And only one (Japan) where it is in the limelight. Sumo is saturated with tradition, and I eat it up. I gotta be a part of it.

Above is a picture of the fast-movers known as rikishi (sumo wrestlers). Too fast for my shutter, they crash into each other with so much force it makes tectonic plates look like nuzzling house cats. Not only are they deceptively quick, but also flexible and agile. I am guessing they could give Brian Boitano and Mikhail Baryshnikov a run for their money.

The top rikishi generally have a posse of other wrestlers under them that follow them whereever they go--making sure the "big kahuna" is comfortable, likes his yukata (robe), and looks powerful. Each rikishi is from a stable where they train and spar with other wrestlers from that stable. Training takes place almost everyday during non-tournament days. Tournaments are 15 days long and are held during every odd month--3 in Tokyo and 1 each in Osaka, Nagoya, and Fukuoka. Generally, each rikishi has one match per day with the lower divisions wrestling in the morning and the best (big money) matches in the afternoon.

Some of my favorite rikishi are Kotooshu, Ama, Baruto, Takamisakari, and Hakuho. Kotooshu is a very tall, lean, handsome rikishi from Bulgaria. He is my all-time favorite and the first European to be as highly ranked as he is (ozeki). He will most likely be the best rikishi one day. Ama is a very tiny man from Mongolia...he fights with heart and passion, and is always smaller than his competition. Baruto is the new guy on the block. He is from Estonia and one of the fastest rising sumo wrestlers in history. Takamisakari is from Japan. He isn't actually that good, but he always spazzes out (e.g., beats his chest, and pumps his arms up and down) during the "pre-game warm-up" which makes him fun to watch. Hakuho is also from Mongolia and is one of the most talented wrestlers at this time.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed getting a little taste for sumo. This was just a tiny bit of the huge world of sumo, so if you have any questions please ask.

Poems

2006-06-02T16:55:00.000+09:00

I'll be in Yokohama and Tokyo the next 5 days so I figured I would post something before setting sail. I realize I am no Bobby Frost of Eddie "Al" Poe, but I will try nonetheless. Enjoy!

.....

Ways of Japan

In Japan, there are many peculiar ways...
afternoon assemblies and sleeping senseis.
Though they stay until 8 or 9
they are bound to say they are fine
that they don't mind
but they constantly sleep to pass the time.

And of course the formal ways...
the set phrase and proper etiquette craze,
with side-stepping and brown-nosing galore
the inability to show someone the door
and tell them "uh-uh, no more!"
all of this (and more) can make being a foreigner quite a chore.

.....

Footnote: I wrote that while being stuck in the middle of all the Japanese bureaucracy that comes with getting an driver's license in a foreign country. It should be noted that about 90% of the time I love Japan.

.....

Haiku For You

Now who thought of this?
ahh....seventeen syllables!?!?!

Think and choose wisely.

.....

I realize my haiku needs some work. I am actually trying to write some in Japanese, but that is harder said than done. Why? Well, my name "Isaac" has 2 syllables according to the English way of writing haiku. Whereas, in Japanese it has 5 syllables (or characters)--アイザック. Furthermore, each haiku has to represent a season--different words representing different seasons. However, some words have no season associated with it and thus you have to make sure at least one of the words has a season associated with it and no other words have a season associated with it that contradicts the others. Understand?

.....

Fresh Drabby Moldy Medicine

Each day is new
and each day is fresh.
Each day begins
and ends with a stretch.

Swallows fly still
in the blue gray sky,
although this day may be
the day that they die.

So I get up...
brush, wash, and give.
There is life in my bones
and days to live.

.....

Tug-of-War

2006-05-29T10:58:00.000+09:00

Yesterday was the annual Gunma prefecture (similar to state) sports day. Each village, town, and city sent a strapping group of their finest young lads and lasses to compete in different events (note: the average age for the participants in my village was about 54). My village wanted me to be a representative on the tug-of-war team. I, of course, accepted their offer and trained relentlessly during the weeks and months preceding the event by doing hand-grip exercises and working on my technique. That sentence could also be read as: "I said sure, why not? I trained by typing on my keyboard and increasing my calorie intake, following the Newtonian equation for tug-of-war and sumo training (see E1)."

(E1): Strength Quotient, SQ = {[Gravity + Mass]/Hand-grip Potential} - Friction

Anyway, the day started early (~5 am) because we needed to round up "the gang" and head down the long, windy mountain road toward civilization, and the prefectural arena. Unfortunately, about half of the team wasn't coming due to the typhoon-like rainstorm prohibiting the track and field portion of the games from being held. We got to the arena early, found our spots, and put on our team attire. Our team attire consisted of a neon yellow, ultra-tight windbreaker (Uenomura in kanji on the back), and a baby blue logging cap with a small emblem of Gunma on the left above the ear. To be perfectly honest, our outfits were awesome....awesome in the sense that they were horrendous and I felt like I was transported back to the 1980s. We looked like we should be directing traffic at the county fair. We looked rag-tag--along with the awesome color combo of neon yellow and baby blue, about half the members on our team were grandparents and close enough to collecting retirement benefits, the other half looked normal and fit, and then of course there was me. Now, I have been in a lot of strange situations before, but never, EVER would I have pictured myself in the middle of an arena filled with 5000 strangely dressed Japanese people (many wearing some sort of "hot" or neon color), being intently stared at like a pendulating medallion, and being able to see over everyone in the entire building. It was euphoric, and what dreams (the weird ones) are made of.

Because of the rain, there was only one event at this year's sports day: tug-of-war. The opening ceremony took place, loaded with pomp and circumstance and the patented Hitleresque hailing of the prefectural governor. It was all window dressing for what was to come. Next was lunch and practice. This time was devoted to scouting the opponents and sizing up the competition. Things to note were how fat the other team was, how old, and what color of windbreaker they were wearing. Also, many teams payed special attention to our team because of the one and only foreigner in the building. I think both the competition and my teammates thought I was the secret weapon, the ace up the sleeve, the jack-in-the-box, the man, the myth, the legend, a certain "je ne sais quois." This was going to be the year that Uenomura brought home the trophy...and I was going to be the MVT (Most Valuable Tugger).

After about 4 hours of sitting around trying to speak Japanese with some old men, the main event began. It was tense...the arena was like a pressure cooker...the anticipation in the building could rival that of children sitting around the Christmas tree waiting to open their presents. It was that crazy. We were all set for our tournament run. We just had to win every match, a match consisting of the best out of three bouts. We had a first-round BYE because of Uenomura's impressive performance the year before. Eventually, we were up. It was quick, painless. We lost two bouts in the span of about 30 seconds. We were done. We lost. Our dreams would have to wait another year. There would be no tossing each other in the air like rag dolls. No hoisting of the MVT on the shoulders that pulled ropes like no others. It was an atrocity. It was humiliating. It was embarassing.

So, we packed up, high-tailed it out of there and did what anyone in that situation would've done. We drove the bus to the local hardware/everything store and bought cheap, bulk beer and drank all of it on the way back to Uenomura. It was a good trip back. We reflected on our time in the limelight. Old men snuggled up against the half-opened windows and smoked. People kept saying "rainen," or next year. Eventually we made it back to Uenomura. We went straight to the only restaurant in town and proceeded to party like I've never partied before. That's when I learned what the true meaning of sports day is: it's not whether you win or lose, it's all about the huge party afterwards.

Bon Appetit!

2006-05-21T23:23:00.000+09:00

In Mongolia, we went to a Chinese restaurant one night to socialize a bit with some English teachers in Darkhan. We ordered some Mongolian beer (which, in my experience, is the best beer in Asia) before referring to the menu to see what strange food we would be eating. It was nice being in a Chinese restaurant in Mongolia....just about everyone in our group needed a break from mutton. Furthermore, it was nice to see a trilingual menu--representing Chinese, Mongolian, and English. Take a look...what would you order?

In the end, we ordered a dish with chicken (we wanted to indulge because every other restaurant in town had banished the chicken because of the bird flu), a couple dishes of fish (not smart, considering Mongolia is a land-locked country), and the-always-comforting, can't-go-wrong white rice. In other words, we started off with a tantalizing sample of the temple explodes the chicken cube, followed by a heaping helping of fuck to burn the fish, rounded out nicely with the delectable the water boils the fish.

I thought the fuck to burn the fish was the worst fuck to burn the fish I had ever had...it was tasteless and, frankly, in need of a bit more burning. The temple explodes the chicken cube was pretty decent...I would recommend that to just about anyone; Ask for it at your local Chinese restaurant. Now, the water boils the fish was very good. So good, in fact, that I tried to get the recipe from the waitress, but had no luck. I am curious how they prepared it.

OxyMongol

2006-05-11T21:15:00.000+09:00

Back from Mongolia, evidence of the trip still lingers on--grubby fingernails with dirt-polished cuticles, socks stained from the ankle up with dry brown earth, a pink Chinggis Khan shirt that reflects the great conqueror's lighter side and love for women, a hankering for mutton surrounded by a corona of fat that my childhood pets would dream about as they waited under the dinner table, and also some great memories.

Mongolia was great. Mongolia was interesting. Mongolia, land of extremes. Mongolia was intense. Mongolia, jeez...umm....where do I begin? Those are just a couple responses I have come up with so far when asked "How was Mongolia?" Questions along those lines are just plain sinister and impossible to answer. That is why I choose to answer in the form of oxymora (plural for oxymoron), which helps to show that there are rarely absolutes when describing something, especially a country. Here are a few I have come up with: Mongolia is pretty ugly; Mongolia was almost exactly what I expected and exactly opposite of what I had in mind; My working vacation in Mongolia was awesome.

Mongolia is pretty ugly.

Yes, that's right. In some regards, it is so ugly that it is beautiful. Mongolia is roughly the size of Alaska, but we only saw an area about the size of Vermont. Thus, I don't have much to base this statement on. Just the endless brown hills, sparkling like sequined prom dresses from thousands of windblown, broken vodka bottles. The cities were a sight for sore eyes to realize that there are more sorrowful sights out there.

Yes, Mongolia was pretty ugly. However, parts of Mongolia were absolutely gorgeous. We went to a traditional ger (round Mongolian tent) camp in a semi-mountainous area to do some horseback riding and hiking. The area was green with grasses and trees! Trees are about as common as drinkable water in Mongolia. They should consider participating in Arbor Day, at least in the area we were working in.

Mongolia was almost exactly what I expected and exactly opposite of what I had in mind.

Genghis (aka Chinggis) Khan was emblazoned on everything from beer to streets to the international airport.
It's not easy being green in Mongolia. The temperature dips to -10 degrees Celsius at night and skyrocket to nearly 30 C during the day. The harsh environment leaves everything brown until summertime. Exception: the scenery can also be white with snow, as we found out while working amongst flurries.
I ate more mutton than one could ever count in a sleepless night.
The Mongolian people were as friendly a people as I could ever imagine. Their good-humor and straight-forwardness were definitely refreshing compared to the shy people of Japan.
If the Mongolian Empire basically spread the known world, in the end, why did they choose to settle in Mongolia? They could have the pick of the litter. Why choose a place with 0.3% arable land, harsh winters, hot summers, and limited natural resources? That still baffles me.

My working vacation in Mongolia was awesome.

Through the sweat, chills, intestinal grumblings, a bout with food poisoning, and weather, we managed to almost complete 4 houses. We learned the Mongolian words for cement, trowel, and water very quickly as most of our time was devoted to the masonry side of the construction process. Some great houses were constructed and even better relationships. The families we worked with were constantly cheerful and happy to be working side-by-side with some funny looking foreigners. My group worked on a house with three generations of men--Grandpa (we actually called him that, and in a couple days he understood what it meant), his son Sambo, and Sambo's sons Dirtchiem and Oka.

It was amazing to work in Mongolia, among the herds of horses and sheep. The shadow-spotted mountains offered great backdrops for 5 minute breaks and seeing what the weather was bringing. The families were very grateful for all our help and although they couldn't tell us that, you could see it in the way their eyes twinkled and lips curled.

MongoLiaison

2006-04-27T11:02:00.000+09:00

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"

2006-04-25T12:13:00.000+09:00

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

2006-04-18T21:27:00.000+09:00

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

2006-04-10T20:13:00.000+09:00

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

2006-04-04T08:18:00.000+09:00

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.

Goodbye Pictures, Hello Video

2006-03-29T21:27:00.000+09:00

Alas! I figured out how to add videos to my blog! Note: all of these videos were taken with my puny digital camera, thus the longevity of each movie is similar to the average lifespan of mayflies in Minnesota on a January day. So with out further adieu, here they are:

View from my balcony on a stormy summer's day.

Atop of a tower in Uenomura (my village). Note: I learned later that I wasn't supposed to be up there.

This was taken at the top of Mount Fuji while waiting for the sun to rise.

Note: I am not acting in this video. All of it was unscripted and genuine. It was cold. So cold that my lips froze solid in a smile as I witnessed the most beautiful sunrise I have ever seen. (this is mainly because I refuse to get up early)

Have you seen the movie "Lost in Translation?" If you have, this should look familiar. The busiest pedestrian crossing in the world. It's in a part of Tokyo called Shibuya...I pronounce it Shi-BOOYA!!!

The largest fish market in the world! Note: the freshest sushi is served just across the street! Don't tell PETA about this video.

Monkey Onsen! This was taken in Nagano...there were hundreds of monkeys!

Uenomura Sports Day! AMAZING!

Cambodia. This is a tuk tuk. A tuk tuk is basically a glorified rickshaw being pulled by a motorcycle rather than a human or bicycle. I like the name "tuk tuk."

Cambodia temple running. I am trying to make it seem like I am being chased by indigenious people. Strange...why are the words indigenous and ingenius so closely related?

Greta and I went to a famous shrine (or was it temple?) in Tokyo. This is us being culturally insensitive. Sorry mom and dad. It was Greta's idea!

Take II on Greta and Isaac's culturally insensitive visit to the famous shrine/temple.

Ashlee and I's descent down "Death Mountain."

Well, that ends the first installment of videos. I know some of them were weird, but I was going for artistic style and filmography points. Until next time.

Gut-wrenching Graduation Ceremony

2006-03-23T12:48:00.000+09:00

Today was the 6th grader's graduation from elementary school. I love them! Soon they will be at the junior high school and I will get to see them everyday instead of once every couple of weeks. I attended the ceremony dressed to the nines (whatever that means) and excited to sit through the 90-minute graduation, or what I like to call "Bow Fest 2006," where 2006 is referring to the number of times you bow, not the year. Bowing is becoming easier than standing straight. Soon I will become a gigantic lumbering obtuse angle due to the incessant ducking through doorways and chronic bowing.

The ceremony was going as scheduled. All the students remembered when to bow, the speakers did their ritual 5 bow routine, and of course I was bowing more than I had to because it is better to be safe than sorry. Anyway, the ceremony was actually really gut-wrenching. I have learned that kids in Japan are very emotional during graduation ceremonies. The last time I saw so many kids crying at the same time was when Mr. Rogers no longer wanted to be our neighbor. Cultural difference #2: Japanese ceremonies aren't really joyful or fun in the sense that American ones are. Instead, Japanese graduations are filled with straight faces, intent looks, and speeches that try to make more points than jokes. It doesn't matter to me though...I don't understand any of it. Although, it would be nice to see a smile every once and a while.

After the diplomas were handed out and some songs were sung, the 6th graders stood up, turned toward the audience (which mainly consisted of the younger elementary students, teachers, and a few parents), and performed an interactive thank you message where different parts of the message were said by different students. For instance, Jim says "We the 6th grade class," Judy says "of Ueno Elementary School," Bobby says "would like to thank you for...." You get the idea. It went on for about 5 minutes. I think it is requisite for Japanese ceremonies...complete sentences can be hard when you are nervous.

It was getting emotional, the students' eyes were welling up with tears, the message was really sincere, and the atmosphere very formal. But then I heard a noise that sounded like water hitting the floor. I was curious, so I looked toward where it was coming from and to my surprise there was a younger student vomitting over every thing. It couldn't have happened at a worse time. I have to say (now don't think of me as the devil) that it was the funniest thing I have ever seen! Of course, I treated it as seriously as I could. About a half dozen teachers rushed over to him, escorted him out, cleaned it up, cleaned him up, and brought him back in. They did all of this while the 6th graders were still thanking everyone. I just stood there thinking "what the heck just happened?" That graduation will forever be remembered as the one where the kid puked all over. I will never forget it, and I will never forget the reaction the other people had: nothing! It was as if nothing happened, OR that it happens all the time so it is just routine now!

I am taking a poll, so please comment. Do you think that I am a horrible person for thinking that a kid puking during a very formal event is funny? How do you think you would feel?

The Big Kid

2006-03-20T14:33:00.000+09:00

I was always the big kid in school, and being a teacher in Japan hasn't changed that. I still need lots of guidance like the kids, I want to eat the dessert before all of my rice, I never give handicaps when I play some made-up game with the kids, and I often get the kids in trouble for goofing off.

Above is a picture of me and the Panda Class at the hoikuen (kindergarten). They are graduating this Friday and will be first graders next school year, which starts in April. I teach these guys, along with the Rabbit and Squirrel Class every Wednesday morning. I often walk away from the kindergarten feeling exhausted and enriched....and sometimes completely awful. You never know what you are going to get when you have a bunch of three, four, and five year olds on your hands. Hoikuen is a place where the tears flow like the mighty Mississippi and the notion of relaxation is all but extinct (at least until nap time). It's a place where the students don't know you can't speak Japanese and a place where Isaac Sensei means trapeze artist and jungle gym.

Weekend Warriors

2006-03-13T16:53:00.000+09:00

You ever watch those survivor stories on "60 Minutes" or "Dateline" or what-have-you? It seems the lucky-to-be-alive survivors always do the same imbecilic things. For example, they are neither prepared for the weather in the first place or the possibility for the weather to change (Weather? Change? That never happens!), they are not experienced with the area, and/or they didn't tell anyone where they are going. I always thought those survival stories were just for our (non-imbecilic, couch potato) attitudes to vicariously experience what adventuring was all about and to find a little schadenfreude from a serious situation (*note: schadenfreude is one of my favorite words...if you want to know how I was introduced to the word, see the the bottom of this post). After last weekend, I know one is actually supposed to learn something from the misfortunes of others, not just find humor in them.

Yep, as you've probably already guessed, Ashlee and I decided to hike a series of 4 peaks and camp near the top in an area in Ueno last weekend. It was slated to be a 7-hour hike, but we could stop whenever we wanted and camp and do the rest the next day. However, we quickly learned that the hike would probably never be completed. We started late in the afternoon, to my surprise in the snow. In the village of Ueno there is no snow, but at the tops of the mountains the trail was speckled with snow, especially on the northern facing slopes. Hiking the snowy, icy pathways was a bit like walking up a slope of marbles and banana peels with 15 meter drops on either side. The hike definitely wasn't intended for the winter!

During the hike, the sun was going down faster than stock prices in 1929. And unless we found a place other than the 30% slopes we were relentlessly climbing (note, not hiking), we would be going down, too. Fear not though...yours truly navigated his way (and Ashlee's) to the promise land known only as "A Flat Spot Big Enough for My Tent." We then set up camp, surprisingly made a fire that would make the sun jealous if it were out, and cooked some authentic spaghetti that we had to eat with our hands because we hastily packed only the essentials (i.e. tent and beer).

Sleeping in a tent has always been a problem for me. I always end up rolling around for about 3/4 of the night until I am finally completely exhausted from my tossing and turning that I collapse and fall asleep just before dawn. The same was true for last weekend. One big difference though: it was cold. To give you an example: I can hardly sleep in my own room at night because of how cold it is, and I have a space heater and a wall heater. Why did I think I could winter camp? Answer: I didn't think about that. Actually, I woke up in the middle of the night and typed a text message on my cell phone to a friend of mine. It basically said "if you don't hear from me sometime tomorrow, send help!"

Alas, we survived the night, however, I regret to inform you that I typed this post with only 7 fingers because of a severe case of frostbite. We woke up early the next day, packed up camp and headed down the treacherous trails. We fell more times than a toddler learning to walk, but we eventually made it down unscathed. We plan on doing the same hike come summer.

*Schadenfreude. When my family and I were in Mexico visiting my uncle's timeshare, Uncle Louie introduced me to this word. We were near the non-resorty town of San Carlos on the coast of the Gulf of California. It was Christmas vacation and my sister flew in from Japan to spend the holidays with us. My ma, pa, sister, uncle and I drove from Tuscon, Arizona in my uncle's rickety 1970s pick-up truck, three of us sleeping in the back of the truck. Most of the time was spent enjoying the summer-like weather, consuming alcohol, and snacking on Mexican food. While in the hot tub with my hilarious uncle one evening he told me there was a word for finding joy in the misfortunes of others. I always knew that I wasn't alone in this immature, insensitive, almost devilish act; now I was positive that there were other sick-minded folks like me because there was a word for it: schadenfreude (it's German, which says a lot I think). I don't know if it was fate or karma or what, but schadenfreude became very evident during the rest of the vacation. First, schadenfreude was present while deep sea fishing out in the gulf as about every member of my family was as pale as ivory and heaving their breakfast burritos over board as others were holding back giggles. Second, after learning how to drive the scooter at my uncle's place, I passed the keys on to my sister and gave her a quick tutorial on how it works (this is the throttle, this is brake, etc.). She shooshed me aside like she had driven a mo-ped a thousand times. She hopped on and took off. I was amazed when she navigated the scooter between a narrow stretch of trees and my other uncle's 1-ton dualy pickup. But it was not to be...after about 3 seconds of what looked like experienced showboating, she crashed it straight into the side of Uncle Lou's 1970s pick-up...the one that needed to drive us all the way back to America...leaving a dent the size of Rhode Island. I couldn't believe it. I remember the first thing I did was giggle. Then I thought...oh wait, she could be hurt. That's when my dad rushed in and got Greta off the scooter, which was still charging into the pick-up because the throttle got stuck. Greta was a little bruised, a lot shaken, and full of tears. She felt so dumb, and she felt even worse because Uncle Lou's pick-up and the scooter were badly damaged. However, Uncle Lou didn't seem to mind...he came out of the house and seemed bewilderingly fuddled. I guess it was the bottle of wine he drank earlier that seemed to coat the situation in nitrous gas. Serious things became funny. Anger became laughter. Curses became schadenfreude.

Asamakakushisan: 浅間隠山

2006-03-07T08:59:00.000+09:00

Last weekend was one for the record books. I don't know why I wrote that to start this post...it could never compare to the weekend I had at Disney World when I was a kid or the beloved "Weekend at Bernie's." Anyway, I'm sure there was something important going on somewhere that warrants recording (i.e. the Oscars or Bush's trip to the Asian Subcontinent). My weekend consisted of a hike. A very good hike at that. Maci, Ashlee, Justin, and I hiked a snowy peak called Asamakakushisan to get a 360-degree view of the surroundings and of Mount Asama. I am told the name Asamakakushisan means something like "the mountain shadowing Mount Asama" or "in the shadow of Mount Asama." Mount Asama is one of the largest active volcanoes in Japan and a sight to see, especially for someone who used to make volcanoes in the sandbox with a garden hose.

From left to right: Justin: the ukelele-playing, Emeril-imitating, part Italian, part Hawaiian, fearless leader of our expedition. Maci: the always upbeat, slick-shoe-wearin', small-town-faring, Missouri girl. Isaac: me. Ashlee: the art-makin', already taken, blondie from Iowa. Some of the finest English teachers you'll ever see.

The hike was absolutely beautiful! We eventually made it up the slippery, slushy slopes after many envious looks toward the Japanese hikers equipped with their metal-studded boots. Once we reached the top, we broke out the one-time use grill, food, and booze. Justin, the cook (he is part Italian), made some delicious shrimp burgers and kebabs. Who needs a Power Bar when you could have a shrimp burger and some grilled egg plant? All in all, it was fantastic food and fantastic company.

Next hike: Mount Myogi: Part Deux. I figure I should do it right this time rather than hiking off of 4 hours of sleep and 10 beers in my stomach.

In the near future: Asama-san! I am going to try and climb Asama sometime this spring or summer (whenever the snow melts). Pray for magma-free trails.

Climatic (not climactic) Undertakings

2006-02-28T12:35:00.000+09:00

What do the Atacama Desert (in Chile) and Naeba, Niigata, the place where Ashlee and I went skiing this past weekend, have in common? The same reason why the Atacama Desert is so dry also causes truckloads of snow to fall on the mountains of Niigata. As storm fronts move across the Sea of Japan, the cell picks up steam (figuratively) and moisture (literally) and becomes obesely saturated with water. When it comes to the western coastal mountains of Japan, the storm front needs to lose some weight and gain some altitude, so it dumps enormous masses of snow. This creates a superb ski location conveniently located about 3 hours away from me. Many of you may remember from geography class that the Atacama Desert in Chile is influenced in a similar way except that the Andes prevent any clouds with moisture from entering the desert region. Thus, the Atacama is drier than most old peoples' skin. In fact, if I were to fly over the Atacama Desert and spit out of the window, the annual rainfall for that year would quadruple and meteorologists and environmental activists from all over the world would probably conclude that El Nino has returned or that global warming and the Apocalypse are joining forces (Note: I take no responsibility for the credibility of the theory discussed above, unless of course it is completely correct and deserving of an award and/or cash prize).

Anyway, yeah, so I went to Niigata. Some of you non-Japanese residents may recognize the name Niigata because Niigata is the prefecture which has been getting pounded by record snowfalls this winter and making world news. There has been so much snow this winter that even the famous "bullet-trains" could not penetrate the fluffy, white powder at times. And although the "bullet-trains" may not have been able to penetrate that snow, I just needed two skis, two poles, and some warm winter clothing to master that bunny hill and graduate up to the green runs. Black Diamond, here I come!

No, seriously, the skiing was great. It was totally different compared to Andes Tower Hills Ski Area that I used to ride the 4-wheeler to everyday after school as a pre-driver's license teenager in rural Minnesota. The longest run there took about 30 seconds. I guess the biggest difference was being on a mountain, and not a hill. This place made hills look like North Dakota (i.e. anti-hills). Anyway, if you look to the right, there is a picture of me and my beloved 4-wheeler. Gosh, I wish I had a 4-wheeler here in Ueno!

Skiing was good. I wasn't quite in peak shape, but alas, I did ok. Some highlights included finding two bottles of white wine packed into a snowbank at the top of the mountain (yes, I kept them of course), skiing down the mountain with two bottles of wine in my pockets, falling down with two bottles of white wine in my pockets, and collecting my skis and poles that littered the mountainside after falling down and realizing the two bottles of white wine were okay. And the best highlight of all about skiing: taking off the ski boots; it makes it seem as if you lost 20 kilos but gained some permanent wrinkles from your pants and socks being stuffed down in there.

Spreading the Word

2006-02-19T21:38:00.000+09:00

Above is a picture of the neighborhood (Nippa) where I live. I am about a 30 second walk from the Ueno Elementary school (the red-roofed building) shown above. Every Thursday afternoon I teach English to two different classes at the elementary school. Last week I taught 1st grade, then 5th grade. For first grade, I taught animals (with emphasis on the barn-yard variety), the noises they make, and Old MacDonald. We then played Duck, Duck, Gray Duck (or Goose depending on how you were raised). With the assistance of flashcards, I stated the name and the noise they make. They repeated and clucked, oinked, moo-ed, and all the others. However, there was one problem: the duck. I have a flashcard of a duck, but everytime I showed it they kept saying "chicken." So, like any good teacher I had to get the idea of "chicken" out of their little heads and insert "duck." And like every good teacher I used an example: AFLAC! Yes, Aflac has a Japanese branch, which is also littering the airwaves with their Gilbert Gottfried talking duck equivalent (Note: despite the difficulties for Japanese people to pronounce the 'L' sound, the word doesn't sound like Afrac). Anyway, to help them remember the word duck I would often say Aflac! afterwards. Later I found out that it did indeed work in helping them realize that this wasn't a chicken....instead, it was an Aflac. Yes, first graders of Ueno Elementary School think ducks are called aflacs. Just imagine my bewilderment as I discovered this new name to the tune of Old MacDonald. I failed as an English teacher. I wonder if the people at Aflac need help in promoting their insurance policies to the 6 to 7 year old age group.

Cognitive Cuisine

2006-02-13T20:51:00.000+09:00

Itadakimasu!

This may be the word/phrase other than ohayo gozaimasu (good morning) and wakarimasen (I don't understand) that I say the most in Japan. The Japanese (and yours truly) say it before eating. I don't think it has a direct translation into English, but it basically means "I eat" and/or "Thanks for the food." Itadakimasu! This simple word brings memories of home to my frontal lobe. You see, I am a preacher's kid and we, of course, prayed before every meal. What started with "Come, Lord Jesus" soon evolved to multi-verse "Johnny Appleseed" and movie-themed prayers involving Superman and The Addam's Family. I digress, much like an eleven year old version of me mentally-straying from the sermon as I sat in the front pew of my father's church. Clarification: My dad is the best pastor I have ever been in the presence of....it's just that when you are 11 years old the last thing you want to be doing is getting preached to....I was getting enough of that at home, especially after shooting my sister with a BB gun.

This post is to give you a taste of what life in Japan is like. Because I live in a teacher's dormitory, I have breakfasts and dinners cooked for me Monday through Friday. Yep, there is a little old Japanese lady who cooks for all us teachers. Talk about getting a taste of Japan. I get what the Japanese get. I eat what the Japanese eat. And I learn what food to thoroughly avoid while the Japanese swallow it whole. So without further adieu, Bon Appetit!

Ask any Japanese person what ethnicity of food is their favorite and they will say Japanese food. They are more proud of their food than a slaving mother cooking on Thanksgiving Day for her extended family. Many of my students say their favorite food is rice (actually because of the difficulty in distinguishing between the 'r' and 'l' sounds, sometimes it sounds like they are saying lice). Yeah, plain rice. Talk about delectable. Anyway, rice is a staple here, much like bread or whatever we have back stateside. Another staple is miso. Miso is basically salted soybean paste. It is used to make the infamous miso soup (which is sadly not present in any of the pictures shown here). Miso soup is coffee to me. It rejuvenates me and warms my soul to the core, especially on frigid winter days. Another staple in the Japanese diet is sea food. I have never eaten so much fish, octopus, squid, clam, oyster, sea weed, eel, and shrimp. Red Lobster wouldn't survive the competition over here, although I wish they would try.

Some other typical dishes include such things as giant white radishes, tofu, noodles, and salt. Daikon, the giant white radish, is like the potato for us. If there had been a daikon famine here back in the mid 19th century instead of the Irish potato famine, I don't think St. Patrick's Day would be as widely celebrated in America, and I think Pearl Harbor could have been avoided altogether. Anyway, I am not a fan of the daikon unless it is in a nice hot, steaming bowl of miso. Often the teachers snack on pickled daikon that has the crunchability of a jaw-breaker and tortilla chips all rolled up into one. It has been reported that you can hear a person chewing on daikon two kilometers away. Next, tofu. Tofu is the dark-horse for me. My previous exposure to tofu left me questioning the dietary motives of this food. I thought it tasted like mush combined with a taste of nothing. So, basically mush. But here, tofu evolved and made friends with some of my taste buds. Noodles. Japan ranks behind only Italy in noodle consumption (note: I have no idea...it just sounded good). There are many kinds of noodles here. Soba. Udon. Spaghetti. Ramen. And a handful of others. The thing about eating noodles is this: in Japan it is polite to slurp them. Yep. My mom would go nuts! For about 3 months, I was very insecure with my noodle slurping. I just couldn't do it. I felt like I was breaking this forbidden rule and that someone would come up to me and ask if I was born in a barn. However, I grew accustomed to it. My comfort to slurping noodles is evident by taking a look at my stain-spotted shirts from that dangling noodle dancing its way into my mouth. Salt. Simple...Japanese people love salt more than the Dead Sea does. In fact, to "help the medicine go down" the Japanese have been known to take a spoonful of salt.

Punxsutawney's Prediction

2006-02-01T20:48:00.000+09:00

The last couple days were absolutely gorgeous--exemplified by being able to read the daily English newspaper on my balcony as I listened to the wildlife changing around me. The river running through this quiet, mountain town was not a tiny winter stream in search of moisture but more like your little brother at bedtime, never keeping quiet or laying still. Just when I thought the joys of warmer temperatures, spring blooms, and t-shirts were making their triumphant return, a cold-prickly front moved in and dumped its contents. It looks like the river will have to take a nap until its visitor and cold temperatures melt away.

I know that February has only just begun, but it seems as though winter needs to sign a do not resuscitate order. Out of all the seasons, winter is the most immature. Winter always has to have the last say in things--just when you thought it grew up from all the harsh times it went through it decides to throw a tantrum, dropping 8 inches of powder. Winter is the season that everyone talks about, much like those childish junior high school students who you think will never grow up. Winter is a late bloomer. So late, in fact, that winter has to wait an additional season until physical changes start to occur.

With that said, I will be going skiing two out of the next three weekends. C'mon guys...you have to adapt! Let me know what Punxsutawney Phil sees. HAPPY GROUNDHOG'S DAY!

Shaken by Shaken

2006-01-30T14:31:00.000+09:00

Shaken (pron. shah-ken) is a tune-up performed on all used cars in Japan every two years. Shaken is basically an additional mechanical tune-up to make sure your car is safe to drive and road ready. Sounds kind of ingenious, right? The idea is that every two years your car is up to par and not going to spontaneously combust or have any other life-threatening malfunctions. Kind of like putting two diapers on a new born instead of one--it is better to be safe than sorry. The thing is, though, that if you put two pairs of pampers on little Johhny just to prevent a little accident you are wasting a lot of money. Same with shaken. Most shaken starts at around 100,000 yen, which is approximately $1000. Furthermore, if the mechanic finds anything wrong with your car, the cost will simply be added on the base cost. For instance, my timing belt needs to be changed and my driver's side automatic window doesn't work. Each of those things costs about 30,000 yen (another $300). So, basically all-in-all the shaken accomplishes the following: for about $1000 they check everything and tell me what is wrong (but don't fix it), refill the fluids in my car (not oil though...that is like going to get your teeth cleaned and not getting a free toothbrush at the end), check the tire pressure, vacuum the inside of my car, wash the outside of my car, and maybe one or two additional things. So you can understand the disappointment of many foreigners when they come over to Japan and need to buy a car (and then later need to get it shaken-ed).

The thing you have to remember though is that Japan is the birthplace of Toyota, Mitsubishi, Honda, Subaru, and Nissan. Thus, cars are cheap (like $1000 for a nice used car). Supply is high over here and the demand is relatively low, thus the cost is low (that took me 4 weeks to figure out in 10th grade economics class). For those poor Ford, GM, and Chevrolet lovers back stateside you understand why the market is shrinking for American made cars. They have relatively poor fuel economy and they are generally more expensive. It is crazy to think that Japan can make cars, ship them to America, and still be increasing its shares and profits in the American economy.

So, what does all this automobile economics stuff have to do with shaken? Well, not much. It just shows that you can hit the lottery when you buy a car over here, but get the shaft when you need to shaken. One side note: Concerning gas prices, Americans have it made. Through traveling to many countries and owning a car in one, I have learned that Americans have the cheapest gas in the world (most likely excluding the Middle East). Furthermore, Americans are the first to complain about the price of gas. For example, I drive a car that sounds like your vacuum at home and when I fill it up it costs nearly $40. Back home, I could probably fill it up for less than $20. Maybe that is why Japanese cars are unbelievably fuel efficient, I don't know. If fuel costs can spawn the creation of fuel efficient cars, well then I'm not going to complain (at least not as much).

Six Month Recap

2006-01-23T08:43:00.000+09:00

Six months ago I was leaving America, my home, in search of making a new home in Japan. I have experienced and learned a lot since first setting foot off that airplane. I walked into a new country not knowing what to expect AND expecting not to know. What am I doing here? What was I going to eat? How was I going to communicate? All the little things that I took for granted back home were now enormous tasks. For instance, getting my oil changed was just about harder than my advanced organic chemistry final, and they took about the same amount of time. Not knowing a language and being surrounded by people speaking that language is a lot like being completely by yourself. You get a lot of time with you, yourself, and I. So, what did I do with all that time with myself? Explored. Taught English and my culture to others. Learned Japanese and it's culture from others. Ate good food. Ate really bad food. Read more than any time in my life. Had more awkward conversations than any time in my life. Didn't understand things more than any time in my life. But, more than any other time in my life, I feel refreshed and alive.

Anyway, here are some 6 month Top Ten Lists.

Top Ten things I miss back home.
10. (put anything here).
America has everything and you can get it so easily. If you crave something there are scores of choices to help quench that craving. If you want to be entertained there are more ways than ever to have a good time. Simply put, you can basically find anything in America.
9. Names.
In America it's easy. Ted. Bob. Jim. Jill. Sarah. Japanese names, like most foreign names, are hard to remember. Although my town is small and I know every name of every student in kindergarten through junior high school, I still have the occasional relapse into name-amnesia syndrome. This is particularly difficult with adults. There are some people I talk to every week and I still don't know their names, and as weeks go by it makes it harder and harder to just ask. Furthermore, they probably already think I know their names because it is written on a nametag or something (in Kanji, mind you).
8. Cooked things.
I think the discovery of fire has revolutionized the world...it is up there with the wheel. We can use it for warmth, light, and cooking. Instead of having to eat raw things we can now cook them and make them even more delicious. The Japanese on the other hand don't agree with this way of thinking in some cases. Now, I am not anti-raw meats, I am just anti-raw meats that taste like I'm eating my own tongue. Moral of the story: go to a good sushi restaurant or always have a small camp-stove on hand.
7. Normal toilets.
Squatting toilets are a pain in the butt....FOR the butt, rather. If you have a normal toilet please do me a favor and take a moment to reflect on how nice it is to sit and take your time and be comfortable. Also, I think lines like "There are kids in Japan that don't get normal toilets! How would you like that?" should become a staple when kids complain about having to clean the bathroom.
6. TV.
There is nothing that says home like watching hours upon hours of football in the fall, college basketball in March, baseball in the summer, and a mix of all of them in between. The only sports televised here are sumo, Japanese baseball, and K-1 boxing (which is actually awesome). I love sumo, but there are times when I just want to sit and vegetate while watching a good game. Note: they broadcast Monday Night Football here, however, it airs on Tuesday night at 6 pm. Taped and ready to go. Also, sumo tournaments are held every odd month, so what am I supposed to do during the other ones?
5. Sweets.
One day a small Japanese candy was passed out at work and many of the teachers wouldn't eat it, stating it was too sweet. As an American, I think I had an expression on my face that said something like "Too Sweet!!! Is that possible?!?!" I was excited to eat this oh-too-sweet candy. Later, I ate the candy and discovered that it was about as sweet as a piece of cardboard. Moreover, it was about as sweet as carbon monoxide--you know, the colorless, odorless, tasteless gas that can kill you. Moral of the story; Japanese sweets are tasteless.
4. Spices.
The Japanese have three spices: salt, wasabi, and more salt. Note: soy sauce is basically liquid salt.
3. Breakfasts.
A typical breakfast in Japan: Rice, Miso, something salty and fishy, onions, some sort of meat that came from an animal with more than 4 legs or was an organ in the digestive system, and no sort of drink.
2. Communicating on a level higher than "Hello, I'm Isaac. It's cold. I like..." Etc.
For those of you at home try going an entire day without using a verb in a strange tense. Furthermore, only use simple verbs that don't conjugate irregularly. Also, no words longer than 3 syllables. Let me know how it goes. Note: I don't always have to speak this way, but a lot of the time I do.
1. Loved ones. This doesn't really need any explanation.

My Japan Top Ten.

10. Food.
Alright, alright, I know I bad mouth the food a lot, but I only do that because the bad food in Japan is really, really bad. With that said, there is a lot of really good food. Some of my favorites include udon (which is a thick wheat noodle in some yummy broth), yakisoba (fried soba noodles with veggies and meat), gyoza (kind of like an eggroll but not fried so much), curry, and lot of other stuff. Surprisingly, the school lunches are way above average on the school lunch list. I remember hating school lunches back when I was a chunky adolescent looking forward to afternoon cartoons.
9. Tokyo.
It's the city that never sleeps on the Far East side. Much like New York, it has everything and there is always something to do.
8. Ueno.
My little village is a really good place to call home. Ueno has about 1500 people, it is about 200 square km, and it doesn't have a convenience store (which is unheard of for Japan). I live in the teacher's dormitory with a bunch of other teachers. They have this setup because most teachers don't teach in Ueno for their entire career so they need temporary housing. Because of this there is a lady that cooks meals for me during the week and the rent is really cheap. The village for being so small has a lot of stuff going on. It also has a lot of tradition and appeal. I don't think I could've been placed in a better area.
7. Kindergarten.
When you get a big group of cute kindergarteners together and sing a song and do a dance, there is nothing cuter or more rewarding. Heads, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes will forever hold a special place in my heart.
6. Enkai.
Drinking parties with your co-workers couldn't be anymore fun. Great food. Lots of beer. And a wild feeling in the air make it one of the best nights I can remember. Also, getting to see a different side of some of the teachers I work with is always surprising.
5. Everyday things.
Living in Japan. The constant learning involved when living in another country can be a bit draining at times, but most of the time it is exactly the reason why I came.
4. Hiking.
Despite being filled with people and having an ultra-modern lifestyle, Japan has some amazing hiking. Mount Fuji, Myogi, and around Ueno have been some of the best hikes of my life.
3. Driving.
I feel like Magellan when I hop in my car and go for a drive. I never know what I'll discover, but most of the time it's superb. One thing I did discover really quickly was that driving on the opposite side of a narrow, windy, mountain road is a lot of fun (and dangerous).
2. Friends.
I have met some amazing people here, and I look forward to continuing these relationships and beginning new ones. Note: the picture to the right was a poop party. It was in celebration of a friend getting a new toilet seat, which is heated and has all kinds of other sanitary gizmos. Everything was either toilet or poop oriented at the party.
1. Students.
My students are amazing! They are fun. They are respectful. They want to learn. They are good jokers. They teach me a lot. And, they make my job rewarding and a lot of fun.

Top Ten Reasons Why I'm Staying Another Year

10. I need more material for this blog.
9. I want to continue hitting my head on door frames.
8. I can't leave until I learn at least two full sentences in Japanese.
7. I am training to be a professional sumo wrestler.
6. The title Mr. Isaac comes around only once in a lifetime.
5. I can't find my way back to any major cities.
4. I accidently signed the wrong line on my Kanji-filled re-contracting papers.
3. Sake.
2. I want to learn English, too.
1. I am a millionaire (in yen form).

One thing to note, although yen may be small, it is not that small...I'm not even a millionaire in yen form, sadly. I guess I am really staying because I need to experience more of the world (by world, I mean Japan, Asia, and different cultures) before getting set to start the real world. I also don't feel ready to leave....this experience has been unreal, the students too wonderful, and the surroundings too beautiful for me to leave just yet. I have learned a lot these last six months--a lot about Japanese, Asia, food, cultures, and many other things. Most of all though, I have learned about myself. Yep, I can survive in Japan. Keep me posted on your whereabouts and happenings. I'd love to hear from you.

All Thai-ed Up

2006-01-16T13:51:00.000+09:00

Thailand: Land of elephants, Bangkok (it's so ugly it's beautiful), kamikaze cabs, a long peninsula-like thing, delicious food, crystal clear waters, intestine-hating water, more islands than single men at a Star Trek convention, and muscle-relaxing, bone-crushing massages. I experienced that and a lot more while being Thai-ed up in Thailand.

We begin this little Thai story not in Thailand, but Cambodia. Courtney, Ashlee, and I got in our $3 tuk tuk and cruised down the strip to the ultra small airport. To give you an idea on how small the Siem Reap International Airport is, one of my grandpa's quonsets in western Nebraska devoted to holding his tractors, planters, diggers, and other miscellaneous machinery was easily bigger than this mass transportation hub in southeast Asia. We actually rode in an airplane with propellors (see right). Yeah, I thought those disappeared back when Nixon resigned from office. Anyway, they were pretty cool because you could wave goodbye and do the patented Nixon double peace pose from the top of the stairs on the tarmac.

Once in Bangkok, Ashlee and I ate a couple bowls of thai ramen, said our goodbyes to Courtney, and took the overnight sleeper train down that long peninsula toward Surat Thani. The train was delightful except for a deadly combination of things: my unusual and explosive bowel movements and the dirty squatter toilet which deposits your goods on the moving tracks below. I felt like I was doing a yoga pose or a pre-aerobic stretch while trying not to fall into the nastiness that comes with a squatter toilet and the 6+ hours of being one of only a few bathrooms for hordes of people. Thankfully, I made it through most of the night peacefully asleep as the infinitely-long lullaby known only as "tunk-tunk......tunk-tunk......tunk-tunk......tunk-tunk" sang to me from the tracks below.

From Surat Thani, we hopped on a bus and took a quick ride to the docks where we boarded our boat to Koh Phangan. Koh Phangan is an island paradise world renowned for its astronomical full moon parties. Unfortunately, the moon didn't cooperate with us while we were there. However, we never would have noticed because we were too busy enjoying our time under the sea. Yep, that's right. Ashlee and I are the newest PADI certified open water divers. It took us about 4 days and we went on about 5 dives. The first dive was a bit difficult. It takes a while to convince your land-dwelling mind that you can breathe underwater. We learned all the tricks to diving and how to avoid possible dangerous situations. After each dive we felt more and more comfortable and soon were doing all kinds of underwater tricks. It was amazing and one of the best things I have done....ever! I saw millions of fish, a moray eel peeking out of his home in the coral, some stingrays, angel fish, barracuda, and about a thousand others in which I don't know the name. I used to think that the ocean was just a giant, drab waste of space good for becoming nauseous. Now that I have seen all the life and colors down below those marine waters, it is hard not to want to go back.

Christmas Cambodian-style

2006-01-13T08:12:00.000+09:00

Yes, indeed, I escaped the neuron-chilling cold temperatures of Japan to tour two lovely countries--Cambodia and Thailand. (sidenote: Japan isn't half as cold as Minnesota...it just feels like it because the Japanese people haven't heard of, or invested in, a few amazing inventions called insulation, central-heating, and body fat). My girlfriend, Ashlee, and my friend, Courtney, were my travel buddies.

You may ask, why Cambodia? Well, Cambodia will soon be one of those bustlingly busy tourist destinations (if you don't consider it already) because of their temples. The Angkor Wat area is quickly rising as one of the most visited sites in all the world, and I wanted to see these places before the evil tourist destroyed the culture and messed with authenticity. The strange thing about being a tourist is that you hate when other tourists are getting in the way of what you are trying to tour. We have this mentality: "Sure it's ok for me to be here, but why are all these other tourists here? Don't they know that this would be a lot better if there weren't so many camera-toting, English-speaking, picture-posing, high-spending, culturally-insentive parasites sucking the atmosphere out of this place?" However, it is these "parasites" (a.k.a. tourists) that will help raise Cambodia out of the underdeveloped, impoverished world to a place where a decent living can be made and thus a comfortable, safe life can be lived. Look at the picture to the left. I originally took this picture to help remember what the living conditions looked like for many Cambodians. It wasn't until I got home that I realized the 5-star hotel looming over the less-than-luxurious shanties below. What a strange, backwards world we live in.

Oh, another reason I went to Cambodia was to visit my amazing, beautiful, fun, and inspirational sister, Greta. She will be in Cambodia for about 4 months as she and a team of friends bike from Bangkok, Thailand to Ho Chi Minh, Vietnam. For all of you inept Southeast Asian geographers, that is, in layman's terms, across Cambodia. She and a friend started the Pepyride. PEPY standing for "Protect the Earth, Protect Yourself". The ride is to help raise money to build a school in Cambodia (which has since been met and completed) and to raise awareness to the situation in Cambodia. Definitely check out the website (http://www.pepyride.org/).

You may recognize the above picture--Angkor Wat. Angkor Wat is an old Hindu temple, like basically all the surrounding temples, and was built in the 12th century. Beautifully intricate drawings and carvings cover the huge stones of Angkor Wat, much like blemishes bombard the face of a 15 year old with acne. When you think there couldn't be another carving, a huge one pops up right in the middle.

We spent Christmas eating delicious Khmer cuisine, drinking the finest Cambodian lager (no egg nog), and listening to a traditional Cambodian band (see left). The band was made up of amputees who lost a limb from one of the many landmines that speckle the Cambodian landscape and were fundraising to help themselves and other amputees in need of help. They played some of the most alive music I've ever heard. I am pretty sure they even did the Cambodian version of Jingle Bells. Kind of funny with hand symbols, a satar-like instrument, bongos, and a harpsichord-looking thing.

Feel apathetic when looking at one of the oodles of temples? Looking more at your feet than at the carvings on the walls? Do you find yourself walking through temples post-haste? Well, you may be suffering from temple overload or the medical name "templed-out." Because there are oodles and oodles of temples and almost every tourist will eventually succumb to being templed-out, be sure to see the temples you really want to see right away. For me, this included Ta Prohm, Angkor Wat, and Angkor Thom, among many others. Ta Prohm is famous for being overtaken by the jungle. Many trees have grown on, in, or around many of the huge stones in the complex (see pictures). Also, Ta Phorm is where some scenes from the movie "Tomb Raider" were filmed. Angkor Thom is a huge complex which includes about half a dozen temples. One of the most famous of which is called Bayon. Bayon is a very steep-rising structure with many faces sculpted out of the many towers. Furthermore, there is a picture depicting many war stories on the outerwall (see very top for photo). Bayon may have the best carvings of all the temples I've seen.

Globalization: Santa Claus is Coming to Town. Every Town.

2005-12-21T12:29:00.000+09:00

Globalization. Part of me loves it, part of me hates it. I love it because without it I probably wouldn't be across the globe in Japan right now. I hate it because I think it tends to eliminate culture, merging them all together forming an emormous cultural conglomerate. Being in Japan, I can officially say Japan has culture. They have more culture than you can shake a stick at.

Anyway, why am I talking about this? Well, last weekend I had a supplementary job at a nearby school. It was for a Christmas party and I was none other than Santa Claus. Never before have I seen so many kids look at me as if I was the coolest person on the planet. Now that I think about it though, the whole experience seems quarky to me. What am I doing in Japan dressed up as Santa Claus no less? When did Christmas become more about Santa Claus and less about the guy the holiday is actually named after? And why is Japan (basically a non-religious country) celebrating a religious holiday? The answer: it is fun.

Don't get me wrong, in some ways I am glad that the Santa Claus story is dominating. I mean, can you imagine trying to explain the real Christmas story to a bunch of junior high school students? It's hard enough trying to explain sleigh and reindeer. Try explaining Jesus, the Three Wise Men, and the Virgin Mary.

Anyway, I think it is great that Japan celebrates Christmas, even if it is the commercialized version. I think it is worth it as long as love is being spread, the concept of giving is in the cool, crisp air, and kids are having fun. Let's just hope that Christmas doesn't replace sumo, sake, and sushi.

Head Banging

2005-12-21T12:06:00.000+09:00

Reason #392 why I hit my head so much.

In a way, you think that evolution would make us shorter because hitting your head so much can't be good for the brain, and thus would impede the procreation of tall people and their tall genes. Good thing being tall is normally seen as attractive. Instead of focusing on finches, why didn't Darwin just study tall people in short countries? Maybe everyone in Japan is short because the tall people die at an early age from chronic head trauma. Or, just like environments mold species into possessing certain characteristics (i.e. different species of finches having different beaks for different diets), the Japanese environment melds it's citizens into being under 5'5". And that brings me to the primary difference between Japan and the US: Japan is small. And Japan being small plays an enormous role in their culture, people, and, well, me hitting my head on something every other day.

Myogi-san: 妙義山

2005-12-07T14:59:00.000+09:00

The Japanese people have a fettish with numbers I think. They absolutely love to rank things. Well, I don't know if this is totally true, it just seems like it. For example, whenever you go someplace the little pamphlet says something like "Third best onsen in Japan!" or "5th most popular temple" or "12th best bottle of sake" or "Only village in all of Japan with a sky bridge." Every area, village, town, or city has something ranked. Oftentimes it leaves me thinking "there can't be that many so-and-so's in Japan, can there?" This feeling leaves a bad taste in my mouth. It is like being valedictorian of your one-room country school. How much competition is there? I guess they have to be known for something, and they need it to be ranked.

Anyway, the only reason I bring this up is because I heard from a friend of mine that they listed the top 100 mountians to climb in all of Japan in some book or something. This is all fine and dandy except for the fact that Mount Myogi was NOT one of them. Wikipedia describes Mount Myogi in the following way, "well known for its rocks weathered into fantastic forms, this famous peak is ranked among Japan's three most noted places of rugged beauty." Ha...I know for a fact that it is indeed ruggedly beautiful. I just didn't know that someone ranks rugged beauty--no wonder there is a 0% unemployment rate in Japan.

Anyway, without further adieu, I give you Myogi-san.

This is Myogi-san from the parking lot. As always, pictures don't do it justice (except pictures in art galleries).

I took a picture of the map so in case I got lost I could just look at the 2.5 inch version on my digital camera. Genius, I know. One other thing worth noting is that the trails are ranked (there's that word again) according to difficulty. The yellow is easy, orange is medium, and red is supreme master climber only (sherpa a must). I think red also signifies the amount of blood you would lose if you were to veer off the path.

We had the great idea of climbing this death-defying mountain while it was drizzling and foggy. I felt like I was in Karate Kid looking for that elusive and expensive bonsai tree hanging on for dear life on the side of the mountain. Above, you can see some of the guys in my party who were working there way down. The path was overgrown and small. At some parts, if you took a step off the path on either side you would fall so far and for so long that you would need to scream twice! Ha. I always think that is so strange to think about. AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! (Run out of breath, inhale) AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

Tokyo: City of Sisterly Love

2005-12-06T11:58:00.000+09:00

Last weekend, my sis and I went to Tokyo. It was kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing. We were planning on going to a huge festival in Chichibu for part of the weekend, however, people were flocking to the small mountain town like it was the gold rush of 1849 and the mass exodus due to the Irish potato famine all rolled up in one. With that said, no hotel...no ryokan (Japanese-style inn)...no nothing. So, we took a look at the famous shrine, et cetera, and then left. Next stop: Tokyo.

Tokyo might be the most versatile, diverse city in the entire world. You can get your fair share of old culture and tradition, check out the ultra-modern side that puts Times Square to shame, and do just about anything else that you could think of. There are so many different parts to the city that just about everything is covered. Greta and I didn't do much. We tried to go to a parasite museum to see a 8.8 meter long tapeworm that came from poor soul. Instead, we found ourselves walking the streets among the worms and filth, not finding what we were looking for.

Anyway, we just ended up going to the most famous temple in all of Japan. Actually, I don't know if it is a temple or a shrine. If you know the difference, please tell me. This temple is in Asakusa and it is the primary bread winner of all shrines/temples.

P.S. This is like "Where's Waldo" only instead Waldo = Greta. Click to enlarge. Hint: she doesn't have black hair.

Hiking to the Heavens

2005-11-19T21:58:00.000+09:00

Last weekend I chose a beautiful area in Ueno in which to go hiking. As always, I never really know what I'm getting myself into because of the lack of roman characters on hiking guide-posts and trail markers. In a way, it makes the experience much more satisfying...it makes me feel as if I am the only one who knows about this area because I have no previous knowledge of the particular hike or any idea of what to expect. For instance, a Japanese-literate person would know beforehand that so-and-so hike has a breath-taking view overlooking the area, an amazing waterfall, etc. But with me it's a crap shoot.

This particular hike was unlike any other hike I'd ever been on. Why? Well, for starters, a road abruptly ends where the hike begins, as if the road was put there just to get to the hike (keep reading...you will understand later). Secondly, at the beginning of the hike there is a beautiful statue with offerings laying near its base. As I start my hike I wonder why, but quickly forget about it as the climb ascends toward the orange peak above.
The hike constantly followed a crystal clear mountain stream climbing higher and higher. As the hike passed the 90 minute mark I was beginning to ask myself, "what's up here?" because I was getting no clues with the surrounding nature. Soon I would get my answer.

I came across a huge granite slab with kanji criss-crossing from right to left and top to bottom. "What is this doing way out here?", is the first thing I ponder. Then I noticed some English at the very bottom of this marker.

On August, 12 1985, Japan Airline flight 123 crashed into Mount Osutake after mechanical problems. 520 people perished. There were four survivors. I climbed further to find many shrines and memorials for the people who died. As I rested at the top near the main memorial, I started to think about that day back in August. It was very eerie and peaceful at the same time. The trees were young and a different species compared to those on the nearby mountain peaks. The plane obviously cleared an enormous path of these trees out. Also, the orange foliage from the leaves kept making me think of a blazing fire about 20 years earlier. I could hear chickadees chirping away and the wind cutting paths through the jack pines. It was so beautiful and peaceful--a good place to be a final resting spot. The serenity would be temporarily interrupted as the sound of jet engines rumbled miles over head--a constant and creepy reminder of what took place that fateful August day.

If you want to learn more about JAL 123, click here. If you want to learn about the flight path and final cockpit recordings, click here.

Mr. Isaac: Japan's Fifth Largest Island

2005-11-18T10:23:00.000+09:00

Japan consists of 4 main islands: Honshu--the big island, which is home to Tokyo, Osaka, and basically everything Japanese; Hokkaido--the nature-filled island in the north famous for its cheese, beer breweries, and snow festivals; Kyushu--home of Nagasaki and warm temperatures (basically the envy of everyone living in Hokkaido), and; Shikoku--famous for...umm...I have no idea. Recently a new island appeared in the region and geologists are dumbfounded on how it came into being. This island was not formed by volcanoes under the ocean or enormous tectonic plates crashing into one another forcing a huge mass of earth shooting skyward like the others. Instead, this "island" somehow migrated into the cluster. This island is known for its very unique and previously-unseen geological formations, and can only be described as Mister Isaac.

Yep, Mister Isaac, a huge mass of...well, something. Mr. Isaac first appeared in Japan in July of 2005 and has been trying to acclimatize himself to the Japanese surroundings ever since. This is very difficult for several reasons: 1) he IS an island (relatively of course); 2) he does not speak Japanese (although he does speak in the third-person once in a blue moon), and 3) he is not used to being called Mr. Isaac....Mr. Arnquist maybe, but not Mr. Isaac. (Sidenote: Yes, this is what the students call me.) Please view the pictures below to truly understand Japan's 5th largest island.

Yep, this is where I replenish my fluids. You know those small cans of soda that you give your little cousin or nephew because you don't want them to ingest to much sugar....the ones that they still need to hold with two hands, even though your hand wraps around it twice? Yeah, well, that is the super gulp here. Note: please take a look at my disclaimer.

This is my 5th grade class. The lesson was on articles of clothing, and as you can see, I brought in many items. We reviewed the names and what not, and then we played a game. The person that said the name first, got to wear that particular article of clothing. The kids loved it. Note: some of them are actually wearing shorts, although they look like pants.

Tuesday is my favorite night of the week because it is volleyball night. I play with the women's league and straight-up dominate. In fact, I can no longer jump at practice. The coach, the only other man there, says in his Jappenglish accent, "Itsaacku, No JUMP!" So I resort to blocking and spiking while flat-footed. It still works wonders.

Cars in Japan are so small. In fact, I've had friends get out of parking tickets in Japan by lifting their car over tire locks. My car is a tiny little Mitsubishi something-or-other. No joking, your vacuum at home probably has more power than my car. Also, my car is so small that it honestly takes me about 90 seconds to get in and out of it. Oh, and my head just barely scrapes the ceiling of my car, so by the time I get somewhere, my hair is acting as if I was rubbing a balloon on it the entire trip. I end up looking like Alfalfa from the Little Rascals.

This is where I have to do my business. Yep. I think the thing I miss most about America is sitting on a toilet. There is no hurry when sitting on a toilet. You can take your time, do a bit of reading, maybe even clip your fingernails or nod off. With the squatter toilets you want to get out of there as quickly as possible. Especially if you are like me and are still trying to devise a way of sitting on your haunches, hitting the target, and having at least one free hand to grab some toilet paper and wipe. It's easy for the Japanese people...they are flexible and have tiny legs. It takes such agility and flexibility for me, that I would consider making it an event at the 2008 Summer Olympics.

Falling for Fall

2005-11-06T15:04:00.000+09:00

Fall is my favorite season. My birthday is in the fall. Football is in the fall. Basketball starts in the fall. Thanksgiving is in the fall. But most importantly, the outdoors are absolutely breathtaking in the fall. Cool crisp air and reds, oranges, and yellows always seem to liven up the surroundings, which fell asleep during the long, hot summer days.

Groves of trees which you hadn't even noticed before are now getting more attention than a cute puppy or the big package under the Christmas tree with your name on it. The surrounding mountains here are so colorful that I am beginning to run out of adjectives to describe them. I am now resorting to "Oh wow, I'm in Heaven" and giggling like a little school girl. I don't know if it is Japan, the mountains surrounding me, or all the different species of trees giving different shades of red, but this has been the most beautiful fall I can remember. It is amazing but at the same time I keep wishing I could share these beautiful fall days with someone else. Instead, I am just resorting to posting a few pictures on my blog. Enjoy!

This is one of those lame senior picture poses. You know what I'm talking about.

This is a view from atop a nearby mountain in Ueno. You can't see many colors, but all-in-all the view ain't to shabby.

If you look closely, you can see me and Ashlee's shadows in the valley down below. If you look even closer, it looks like she is trying to push me in. Good thing for my sake that she's not very strong. Ha.

This is a picture of beautiful Uenomura. I am actually pointing at the teacher's dormitory, where I live. As you can tell from the euphoric (and unrehearsed) expression on my face, Uenomura is the place to be. Seriously.

You would think that me being from Minnesota--Land of 10,000 Lakes--I wouldn't get too excited over seeing a lake. Well, Japan is home to about 5 or 6 lakes.

Onsens and Monkeys, and Monkey Onsens

2005-10-12T14:58:00.000+09:00

Part I: Onsens

I had two days off, so I thought what better way to spend those two days with the girlfriend. Especially since it was her birthday. Yeppers, so after the sports festivities, I drove up to beautiful Nagano Prefecture to pay homage to the 23 years it has been since she entered the world. She (and I) entered the world a long way away from the world we are living in today. Kind a crazy to think about.

Anyway, since she only had a half day of work one day, we went to beautiful Kusatsu in Gunma Prefecture. Kusatsu has arguably the best hot springs (onsens) in all of Japan! The city is very resorty, much like an Aspen or Vale. However, instead of the smell of pine and firs that you might smell in CO, you smell the intoxicating aroma of sulfur. Yep...kind of like mildly rancid eggs. It is this smell (actually the chemical and/or minerals that give this smell) that makes Kusatsu so great. The minerals in the hot, bubbling springs are wonderful for your skin, curing any sort of ache you have, and clearing your respiratory system. Some might find the smell annoying, but you soon learn to love and appreciate it.

Anyway, so in Kusatsu, you stay in some really Japanesey inns (ryokans) and get the Japanese treatment, consisting of about 20 course meals that look a lot more delicious than they taste. Ryokans also supply you with a fancy-shmancy yukata (robes) that you can wear throughout the city as you walk from onsen to onsen. They are pretty cool. That is why Ashlee and I took the opportunity to take a few glamour shots of us sporting our Japanesiness.

Part II: Monkeys

I don't really have much to say about monkeys. I mean, c'mon, what is there to say? Monkeys rock.
I think this picture is hilarious. It looks a lot like one of those Darwin ancestral evolution diagrams. Plus the little monkey is so cute...don't let him fool you though. He ate one of those huge cameras equipped with an enormous zoom lens that looks like a phallic symbol. I think that is why he is holding his stomach.

Part III: Monkey Onsens

Yes, monkeys like onsens too. I wonder if that's why Japanese people like onsens so much. You know what they say: "the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree." The monkeys here were running in and out of the hot springs, chasing after each other, and feasting on little insects crawling around on one another.

These monkeys were in the onsen so long that their faces turned red. Either that, or the smell of that huge turd was overpowering.

The onsen is there behind me (you can click on the image to enlarge it). I am told that monkeys from all over the world frequent this onsen because of it's wonderful atmosphere and good-looking tourists.

Sports Day

2005-10-12T13:35:00.000+09:00

Sports Day...the day you find out the coordinated from the uncoordinated, the fast from the slow, the athletic from the unathletic. It's a beautiful thing, and I had the pleasure in taking part in it.

Each year in Japan there is a national holiday called "Sports Day." It is basically like the track and field day you had at your elementary school as a kid, but instead of just making an afternoon of things, the Japanese go all out. For instance, the WHOLE village participated (this may not be the same in all areas of Japan. In fact, it may only be my village because it is so small). The elementary school was split into 3 teams, the junior high school into 3 teams, and each neighborhood (spanish: barrio) had old men and women on it.

There are only two words that describe the opening ceremony for Sports Day: Third Reich. Yep, you all remember Hitler I am sure. Well, remember when Hitler's Army briskly marched by him and performed the infamous "hail!" Well, that is what they do here. In my village, however, the role of Hitler was played by the town mayor. I am not joking...look at the pictures.

The Sports Day activities include: many relays, tire-pushing-with-a-tiny-stick race (I partook in this one being the opening leg for the mayor's influential team), tug-of-war, ball throwing in a basket, soccer relays, huge ball pushing relay race, kindergarten kiddy tractor pull, miscellaneous weird make-up-whatever relay race, crazy japanese line dancing, croquet, hurdles, and about a million other games. People who say that the Japanese are only creative in the sense that they can make already existing things better have never been to a Sports Day Festival. Talk about imaginative, well, except for the Hail Hitler thing. Oh, FYI...the symbol for a Buddhist Temple on a Japanese map is a Swastika. Coincidene that both Japan and Germany were axis powers during the Second World War...Hail No!

I did the wheel rolling relay, the Japanese line dancing, 4 man relay, and tug-of-war. Our tug-of-war team placed second. I personally think that we didn't get first because we had two women elementary school teachers on our team that couldn't have weighed more that 150 pounds combined. Funny story about the 4 man relay. My team consisted of Hasuya-sensei, Kyoto-sensei, a second grader (aka 8th grader) Hiromi, and myself. Our team was kicking butt all the way until the last quarter turn. When yours truly was really putting on the after-burners and took a corner of the muddy track a little too fast. Next thing I know, I am flying sideways through the air, splattering on the ground much like a sumo wrestler being tossed, and pulling my sweatpants up that had been pulled down by the muddy earth and my momentum. It was quite embarrassing, although I had no time to think about it. Instead, I hurried to my feet, pulled my pants all the way up, and ran the last quarter of the track. One team passed me due to my fall, but they were no match for my long strides and enormous reach of the baton to barely beat them at the finish. It was seriously one of the most invigorating experiences I have been a part of. By the way, there was a camera crew at the festivities that shows local happenings on UTV (Ueno Television) so the whole village will be able to take in the events over and over again until next year. I have already been on TV teaching kindergarteners. Ratings aren't that spectacular...exception: the older women demographic.

Headlines

2005-09-28T15:34:00.000+09:00

EXTRA! EXTRA! READ ALL ABOUT IT (if you can)!!!

Well, the monthly paper for my village came out a couple weeks ago and I was thrilled to get my hands on a copy. It's not that I love looking at funny characters that I don't understand and making up stories to them. It's that I think it is funny when I see my picture in the midst of all these strange looking symbols. Deep down inside, I think toddlers are the editors for the village newspaper. Who else could come up with such storylines as "Scribble, tree thing, hang man thing, circular switchback thing, and giraffe eating crocodile thing" to symbolize the upcoming debate on political reform? Ingenious, I know. The Japanese do, afterall, eat a lot of fish, and fish is commonly referred to as 'brainfood.' Coincidence? I think not.

Anyway, enough said. Take a look at me in the newspaper. It will probably be the only time I will ever be in the paper (not counting my obituary). So, you better catch a glimpse because you don't want the first time you see me in the paper be when I'm dead. Or do you?!?!?

I don't understand any of it either. Pretty funny, huh? Hey! It could be an obituary for all I know. Or, I could be a wanted criminal or something. Maybe it says something like "Meet the Sexiest Man Alive" Haha. I am going to go with that. The only parts I understand are: Isaac Arnquist, Protestant, meter (I am almost 2 meters tall), computer programmer (describing my bro), America, and the numbers. Anything in katakana is somewhat discernible.

Kindergarten

2005-09-21T13:25:00.000+09:00

I love Wednesdays for one reason: Kindergarten! You see, every Wednesday I can escape the routinely interesting classroom activities that take place in the Junior High School, and go to a little paradise known only as little-kids-love-you-land. You all remember kindergarten I'm sure--nap time, throwing toys, learning simple stuff like A through Z and colors, and of course letting your imagination run rampantly wild. However, at the kindergarten I went to as a kid, I never learned a foreign language like Spanish or French. Heck, I don't think I even learned any English save the alphabet. Well, in Japan it is a different story. I am teaching three, four, and five year old kids the alphabet, colors, foods, fruits, animals, emotions, paper, rock, scissors, numbers, and how to act like a big goofy foreigner. No wonder they make better cars than us, that are more efficient, and cost less....they probably learn about car production and the 4-stroke engine in 3rd grade!

This girl's name is Momo...she is one of my favorites. She always talks to me in Japanese and I just pretend like I understand what she is saying and she just keeps talking in her cute little voice. She is showing me a caterpillar that she caught.

Anyway, I don't really have much more to say except this: I understand why little kids need to go to bed by 7 pm...I think it is because they are so drained from playing, and running, and chasing, and tagging, and shovelling, and imagining, and crying, and eating, and puking, and biking, and swimming, and catching bugs, and crying some more, and dancing, and talking jibberish that there is absolutely no way they can actually stay awake. It is physically impossible!

A typical day of kindergarten on Wednesday mornings goes a little something like this: I get there by 9 am. The next hour or so is strictly dedicated to playing with them and letting my inner child out, which isn't very hard because I am just a 220 pounder with a 5 year old's mind. In fact, at the end of the hour it is the children that are sitting down and needing a break and me egging them on to come out and play some more. I guess they can only handle climbing on me, and me throwing them up and down, and playing with them with woodblocks and plastic blocks, and making puppets out of stuffed animals for so long. Then the next hour is teaching. There are about 30-40 kids there, and I teach the whole group for the first half hour and then I take a third of the kids (by age) and teach them a little something more specific, like colors and food and stuff. It involves a lot of flashcards and using a loud voice, quiet voice, high voice, and low voice. They get a real kick outta the voice inflection thing.

Today we watched a very educational video on the topic of "How are you? I am (fill in the blank)" It was a really funny video, except I don't think the children realized the humor in it, I guess that is why I was the only one laughing. The kids absolutely ate it up though...they jibber-jabber and laugh and smile and chuckle and repeat. It is the cutest thing ever! I love it.

Kids hunting for bugs with their little red hats on.

This is the last thing I see when leaving the nursery. The kids yelling "Isaac Sensei!" at the top of their lungs and chasing me as far as they can, much like a loving couple separating at a train station and one of them chasing after the train as far as they can. It is really sweet and makes every one of the 5,000 calories I burned worth it.

Swans and Raves

2005-09-20T08:14:00.000+09:00

Swans and Raves...two things that are polar opposites, much like electrons and protons, north and south, and Sumo and featherweight. Swans and Raves -- elegance and purity vs. crazy and unpredictable. Swans and Raves.

Part I: The Swan

I had a 3-day weekend this last weekend because of a very important holiday: Respect for the Aged Day. Japan respects everyone and shows it in designating a day for it. The thing is, though, once that day is over you no longer have to respect the aged. I just can't wait for the upcoming holidays of Respect for the Newborns and Respect for the Mid-life Crisis Days. Anyway, because of the extended weekend I decided to travel around beautiful Gunma prefecture. First, I went to Haruna, where one of the 3 most famous mountains of Gunma grows upward toward the heavens. A friend and I went to the famous shrines of Haruna and made the trek up the mountain. The trek was really a trek. So, when the trail abruptly ended at the road that goes up the mountain, we decided to do some thumbin' (thumbin' = hitch-hiking).

This is a view from atop a waterfall. You can't see my barrel, but I am just about going to take the plunge. AHH! Oh, and yes, I have gotten tanner since being in Japan.

The top of the mountain reminded me of Lake Tahoe, even though I have never been to Lake Tahoe. There is a lake surrounded by mountains, which are covered in trees, lifts, ice cream parlors, and people eating ice cream. It is a bit of a resort type area. We looked out over the serene lake and noticed the huge white swan paddle boats floating in the water. So, we did like anyone would've done and rented a swan and climbed aboard. There were also pink dinosaurs, but we thought we would go for something a little more traditional.

This is my friend Maci and our swan, Don Swan--he is latin and can really shake his tail feather.

There were also huge, motor-powered swan boats that I referred to as the Mama Swan. I thought it would be funny to round up all the little swan paddle-boats and follow the Mama Swan singing our swan song, or other swan noise.

Part II: The Rave

As many of you astronomers and astrologers know, last weekend there was a full moon. And what better way to celebrate another full moon than to dance the night away at a full moon party in the middle of the woods on the side of a mountain, dancing to trance music and drinking expensive (not because of taste) beer.

Sadly, I don't have any pictures of the party, but let me describe it for you. Ok, imagine about 500 Japanese people, none taller than 5'5" and then one big, tall foreigner. Also, imagine an enormous screen surrounded by enormous speakers that pump out so much bass it puts defibrilators to shame. Alright, dancing in Japan is a little different than dancing in America. First, this was trance music, so it was all about self-expression, so what better way to dance than to conform to all the other Japanese people and dance facing the screen. That's right, no one dances with one another. Instead you are in lines dancing and going crazy and facing forward the entire time. I think it was a sign of respect for the DJ up front or something, however, it wasn't Respect for the Disc Jockey Day (that is sometime in August I think). Go figure. Now, imagine all these small people doing their techno line dancing thing, and then imagine one huge white man jumping so high in the air it blocks out the projected images going toward the screen. Also, imagine lots of groans and moans from my 104 kilogram frame coming crashing down onto someone's foot. I would always say "sumimasen (excuse me)" and then they would just smile and say something like "No problem" even though 5 metatarsals were broken and they were contemplating amputation. I think they didn't want to offend the big ogre/giant. Finally, imagine staying up to 5:30 am and feeling as though you made the trek back to the U.S. and are suffering from an extreme case of jet-lag.