this morning...

http://www.nytimes.com/2006/09/29/washington/29detain.html


(saw this and my morning intentions to finally make a list of places i want to go in sendai so i can go tomorrow were thwarted. follows the hastily written, but well-intentioned letter. i figured it's more important that the letter gets sent than that it's that well-constructed.. volume versus content, etc. what is going on? why in the world could this possibly be an ok thing for america to do?)


Dear Mr. Smith,

I was disappointed to read your name amid the 65 Senators who voted in favor of measure S.3930 yesterday.

Laws that make it United States policy to not allow suspects, even suspects in heinous and murderous crimes, access to basic judicial and human rights do not make anyone safer.

Instead, denying prisoners a habeas corpus right to challenge their detentions and allowing interrogation techniques that can be determined by the president fosters a sense of mistrust between the United States and other nations. (And that mistrust is in no short supply already, as evidenced by comments from leaders of Venezuela and Pakistan in the last two weeks. Whether or not these comments were based on truth or not, the fact that they were made indicates that other nations feel that the United States has overstepped its bounds in the name of fighting terrorism and protecting its citizens. And, as you know, opinions like that are what put Americans in danger of violence from terrorism.)

The way to create a safer America – and a more peaceful world - is by "setting a good example" - by embracing, not pushing aside, the important ideals of innocence until proven guilty, a fair trial and human rights and dignity.

I urge you to please reconsider your position on this issue and take steps to prevent the president from signing the bill into law. You're in a position to shape the way people around the world think of America; please use your power to help make "fairness," "freedom" and "human rights" a part of what America stands for.

Respectfully,
.....



"On behalf of President Bush, thank you for your correspondence.
We appreciate hearing your views and welcome your suggestions.
The President is committed to continuing our economic progress,
defending our freedom, and upholding our Nation's deepest values.
Due to the large volume of e-mail received, the White House
cannot respond to every message. Please visit the White House
website for the most up-to-date information on Presidential
initiatives, current events, and topics of interest to you.
In order to better receive comments from the public, a new system
has been implemented. In the future please send your comments to
comments@whitehouse.gov.
Thank you again for taking the time to write."



and, just now, a news story that the Senate approved 700 miles of fencing along the Mexican border... i'm going outside.

somewhere to get to

'i thought i'd begin by reading a poem by Shakespeare, but then i thought why should i? he never reads any of mine.'
spike milligan

-----
also, when one hasn't paid attention to the world at large for awhile and suddenly starts again, it's pretty astounding not just how many horrible things are happening, but also the magnitude of these things... how can so many terrible things be happening, to so many people, right now, and i'm sitting here, comfortable in my apartment, with the luxury of thinking about these things and these people (or not), knowing that my life will likely continue much the same whether or not i know about what's happening or choose to pay attention to what's happening?


Musee des Beaux Arts
by W. H. Auden
About suffering they were never wrong,
The Old Masters: how well they understood
Its human position; how it takes place
While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking
dully along;
How when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting
For the miraculous birth, there always must be
Children who did not specially want it to happen, skating
On a pond at the edge of the wood:
They never forgot
That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course
Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot
Where the dogs go on with their doggy life and the torturer's horse
Scratches its innocent behind on a tree.
In Brueghel's Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away
Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may
Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry,
But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone
As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green
Water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen
Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky,
Had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.


What happens - in that 'final analysis' - to those who turn away and sail calmly on when they know that there's so much suffering and so many things they could do to help; those who ignore the smallest possible things they could do - those who delete the amnesty international emails without opening them but can spend hours looking at yuppie cooking sites, who ignore those moments where they have this flash of conscience (flash of consciousness?) about real perspective and the real world?

meisties, meisties, fightin' the good fight.

so bloody strong.

'nobody said it was easy... no one ever said it would be this hard.'

or, alternately: 'we are so strong. so bloody strong.'

...bad.day.today...
three classes, and three groups of students i couldn't control...no promise that tomorrow will be any better. what can i do to make it better? patience, patience, patience. walking the line between not letting students misbehave and not being so strict that they're rooting against you (and they think you're rooting against them)... so difficult. but i think the bigger problem, the issue that has me most concerned, is that when they start to misbehave, i start not to care. and i think about my own teachers who were sad and uninspiring, and they were the ones who didn't care. i don't want to be bitter. i don't want to not like my students. i want very much to like them. how do i make a lesson plan that entices them enough to pay attention? one that's not boring? adrian said after a difficult first few weeks he decided that class had to be fun for him too otherwise he wasn't going to make it... but i don't know what to do to make it fun for me. some things i love. i love the smart little girls (and also feel guilty that i'm letting them down by letting the rowdier boys take over class) and that 10 minutes of hitting the balloon with hayato before class. i love my last class on friday and their drawing of the he/she. i love being over the top and goofy during songs. i love hearing 'wakata!'( 'I get it!') why, why, why do i let myself get drawn into these antagonistic roles with these students? they're obviously testing me, and they're children, of course they're not going to be perfect and quiet all the time. aaaggghhhhh. please help me. help me to be more ambitious to get students involved and really "give it my all" in class.

why do i have to make everything so hard?

to combat bad things, good memories/good things about being here:
- the way shigeko, when she knows who's on the other line, sometimes answers the phone at school 'mushi mush' (instead of the 'mushi mushi' that i had somehow, through some short story or essay or something, remembered or heard about)
- green tea with rice
- japanese pears
- mmmm... ramen
- twisted somen noodles
- pre-mixed convienience store beverages: coffee and milk, and green tea lattes
- crescent bread and honey toast
- discount produce bins at the grocery stores
- the way eggs are sold individually
- all the french patisseries that are so popular and prevalent here
- warm edamame
- arts and crafts magazines
- choco-chan's clip-clip-clip of toenails on the floor, and the way shigeko said he was named 'choco' after that 'choco-choco-choco' sound
- the reality show where seven single girls and guys travel around the world on a bus together, and at least once every episode someone ends up in tears ... and during these intense emotional scenes there comes these 'wacky' commentators to throw in (what i imagine to be) light-hearted barbs about these people's soul confessions
- good lord, going down that roller slide in magiyama with tk
- drinking water out of a spring or a faucet with your hands - on hikes or at yochien
- motorists who always yield to bicyclists and pedestrians
- sunday night sunset walks by the river (the fourth longest in japan, i've been told once or twice): old men in baseball caps riding bicycles or resting on the river bank, a grandchild and grandmother with butterfly nets, a woman in a denim shirt sitting on the concrete steps facing away from the river and smoking a cigerette, the sound of (what i presumed to be a high school) baseball game carried from across the river, a man in a white dress shirt and black suspenders who i pass going one direction and later going the other.
- the ri-fucking-diculous way i tried to explain 'putting all your eggs in one basket' for the weekly idiom in the adults' class, and literally falling down laughing (hey! another idiom) with adrian during class.
- the 'pardon?' boys in mari's class and 'oh no! my cola!'
- darts and 'lite ton' and 'xyz' at 'cannabis'
- the moth on the train back from sendai, and how everyone, from teenage girls in school uniforms to golf shirt-clad middle-aged men, stood up in an effort to get away from or to get the moth out of the car
- first night in the apartment and the feeling of hope and possibility - and spices in the window
- shigeko laughing so hard she made herself cry at the thought of both adrian and i hiding from students at the start of yochien
- sparklers in the drive way, and the feeling that this is what it was all about - why does everyone need to try so hard when it's this simple?
- a certain student's clipped 'su-mi-ma-sen' ('excuse me') when she can't see what i'm writing on the board
- thin-line pens - and in so many colors!
- the 2004 calendar on the wall and boxes addressed to the teacher that left more than a year ago in the apartment (that i haven't yet taken down or taken to recycling)
- there are more, but i feel better now, and it's getting late...

and it wasn't all bad things today. a photo of shigeko, mari and myself fake-eating fish-shaped waffle-like sweets filled with anko (sweet red beans - which tastes better than it sounds). One of the first things i learned about tk was that he's 'crazy' for anko. :)

'what's your favorite subject, judy?'
'do you like spaghetti?'

'seeing is believing...'

this week, TK (who often, often uses the phrase 'seeing is believing') made a cd of pictures from my first few weeks here. here's one from my first full day in Japan - at TK and Shigeko's home with one of their daughters, Kyoko, TK's mother, Adrian (the teacher who I succeeded), myself and TK and Shigeko's dog, Choco-chan. (the twins hat was then fresh from minnesota as i brought that as a gift.) picture was taken post-sukiyaki.

the week (or so) in pictures (sort of)

09.15 - Not a pretty picture necessarily, but laundry day at the apartment.




09.16 - Temple in Ishinomaki. Upper right corner: the white things hanging on the tree are folded pieces of paper that contain fortunes. (Outside some temples are boxes like vending machines that one can put money in - usually about 100 yen, the equivilant of about $1 - and get a fortune.) According to TK (my source for all Japan information), some people hang really bad fortunes (as a way of dissiminating the bad fortunate into the big, wide, open universe ) and some hang really good fortunes (as a way of saying thank you and hoping it will come true). The fortunes are on many trees around almost every temple I've seen. (I got a fortune out of a bright red machine outside of Godai-do in Matsushima. Because it was in Japanese, I couldn't read it myself, but, according to TK, it said I didn't have the best fortune, but the second-best. I guess I can live with that. :) )





09.19 - Before yochien (kindergarten classes), Mari (right) and I found costumes used at undokai. (Before coming to Japan, I never liked it when people used foreign words when they were writing in English - I found it distracting and not very useful - "If 'yochien' is kindergarten, why do you need to write 'yochien'? The rest of the article isn't in Japanese, why did you feel the need to translate that one word?". Now I understand. The person writing (likely) didn't include the word to be pretentious or becasue they wanted to teach that one word. Likely there was no extra thought into including that foreign word in the text. That's just what the thing is called, and what they're used to calling it. Like you'd call orange juice orange juice (I'm drinking orange juice), you'd call yochien yochien (not "kindergarten") and undokai undokai (not "a sports festival"). Also the big gray object in the forefront of the picture is the CD player on which the song "Hi! How are you? I'm fine" is played (two times every class).




09.20 - Ikebana class. Gyakugatte - one of the basic styles of skin, one of the most elementary forms of ikebana.

Close up of gyakugatte stems to help me remember...

Hongatte - another basic style of shin (basically gyakugatte reversed)

Work by two other women in the class (their last names are printed on the cards in front of their flowers)




09.22 - Walk to work. A sign on the sidewalk encouraging people to look both ways (I think). The Japanese word for frog is kaeru, which also means "to go home" and as a result there are punny signs featuring frogs urging traffic and traveling safety.

Glory/celestial shot of the 100 yen ($1) store.

Following three picture from the green way: a path in the middle of the street for bikers and walkers. Has flowers and miniature water treatments.

Tombo, or dragonfly, at the house next door to TK Study Room. The black patches on its wings means autumn is arriving, TK said.

TK with tombro. He held up his finger and it flew to him.




09.24 - Kenjo-zan (Mount Kenjo). Cups and bottle by a spring on the way up.

Chestnut on the tree. (It's chestnut season.)


Ishinomaki as seen from the top of Kenjo-zan.

To the east and the Pacific Ocean.



Shigeko and TK with a man we had lunch with at the top of the mountain. He brought a miniature gas heater and made ramen.

Rice fields on the way to Kenjo-zan.

Rice harvest in progress.

Later 09.24 - Past an elementary school and pink elephants on an evening walk.




09.25 - Symmetry: another picture from laundry day. Large spider discovered on balcony when going out to hang out laundry. Spider's current whereabouts: unknown.

mute as the native country that was never there

... I hear something
and think I remember it
and will know it afterward

in a few days I will be
a year older one more year
a year farther and nearer
and with no sound from there on
mute as the native country
that was never there again
now I hear walnuts falling
in the country I came to

W.S. Merwin, from "A Morning in Autumn"

Today, we went hiking and had boxed lunch picnic on Kenjo-zan, a mountain that's about a 15-minute car ride from my apartment. Pictures to come. Also, I think I may be allergic to rice - not as in eating rice, but in a hayfever kind of way. It's rice harvest season here, and since Thursday night I've had sore throat and stuffy nose; nothing major, but could be my first known allergy, folks...

Life is good. People are good. But, I miss you. (I went to a pet store yesterday, and they had turtles and rabbits and frogs and very expensive cats and dogs. And newts. They didn't have the orange firebelly, but of course I thought of Figgy and company and all the times we found newts fuzzy with carpet residue in the hallway or under the encyclopedias. I hope you can come to Japan. I want to show you things and have mountain-top picnics and laugh together at the ridiculous things one does unintentionally in a foreign country.)

article 9

http://search.japantimes.co.jp/cgi-bin/nn20060923b5.html

verbing nouns

toothpastefordinner.com

dinner... just because I can

what a world, what a world... that i can post pictures of what i made for dinner to the entire world in less than the time it takes to fry an egg, as if other people were dying to know what i eat "while out there a whole crazy world." but i can, so here's my sunday night comfort food: okonomiyaki try ii ... much more successful than try i.

technical difficulties; also 'snost and lost'

for reasons unknown to me (a miracle considering my vast, vast knowledge of all things technical), I had to reset the layout - or "template" - for this website. Minimal information was lost, but I tried for a few days to figure what was wrong and fix it, which is why, my dear, grand legion of readers, there has been no kathy-centric news of japan the last few days.

But here!:
from Mike Doughty's site (http://mikedoughty.com/gallery/MIke-no-longer-lives-life%2C-he-only-photographs-it/tobefilledwithawe_oct22_2004). His "I hear the bells" (which contains the word "ampersand" and the lines "you snooze you lose, well i have snost and lost") has been on repeat for the last three or four days in my house, and this is nice, too.

what a day, what a week... things that happened:
1. I taught a 50 minute class using the wrong material - material from another class. d'oh. The students, bless them, gave absolutely no indictation that anything was wrong or that their teacher was a moron who was teaching them all the wrong material. They responded to cards and played games with reasonable success, and, as far as I could see, didn't shoot each other or me any odd looks of "What is going on? Last week we were talking about 'They went to the park. Where THEY go? THEY went to the park' This week, it's all 'on, under, over.' " I didn't realize what I had done until the end of the class, when I gave them back their workbooks. (Workbooks, what a word. I now operate in a world that has workbooks and where the t-rex puppet means 'he' and the minnie mouse puppet is 'she' and where students have to be watched before class so they don't try to climb the bookshelf. The climbing the bookshelf bit only happened twice, I guess.) Made me realize how much control and responsibility one has a teacher - just how much faith students have in you (and how little control they have; this is all in another language), and, thus, how important it is that you try hard to do the best you can and to present the information as clearly as possible.

(The teaching mix-up, however, actually happened two weeks ago. This week was test week at school. So, yeah, d'oh, I mixed up and taught them the wrong lesson on the week before the test. But the class did very well on the test, and I told Shigeko about what I did as soon as the class was over. She laughed, bless her, and said it's something that every teacher's done at one point. I don't know if that's true, but it made me feel much, much better. But, still, seriously, pay attention lenius.)

2. During an overzealous moment demonstrating "I CAN seee the board. I CAN'T see the board" I got gum stuck in my hair during class. I don't normally chew gum, but TK offered it after our afternoon snack (there's almost always afternoon treats before school actually starts at 4:40 p.m. or 5 p.m.), and I didn't want to say no, and it's not that I'm opposed to gum in any way, I just don't like to chew it regularly. I knew I lost my gum during class, but I couldn't find it after a quick half-second check. Then one of the girls who was sitting two spots away from me sits up and comes over and pulls it out of my hair. Awesome.
3. I went to my first ikibana class. Ikibana is a type of flower arranging, but different from Western style arrangements. It's very specific and there's many rules and outlines of how many flowers and angles at which they be bent and where they should be. I didn't think I was going to like it that much, honestly, but I do. They're flowers so they smell nice and they add a nice aesthetic to the apartment. Plus, I like the thought of displicine and spending time thinking about how to arrange something that nature made beautiful to make it even more so. No one, however, in the class including the instructor speaks any English, and, of course, my Japanese skills (at present) are sort of limited to "thank you," "thank you very much." Still, I think it will be fine. Shigeko studied with this instructor for almost 20 years, and she's teaching something that's based on the physical. She shows you how to do something, you do it, you show her what you did, if she likes it, she smiles; if she doesn't, she moves it around. The instructor was also TK's gymnastics coach, and one of the other women in the class showed me a ikibana magazine from earlier this year that has the instructor's picture and a short story about her. So, ikibana, I'm excited about that.
4. At school, right before the adult class, I stabbed myself with a thumbtack. I didn't think it was that bad, but when we were giving introductions and "how are yous" at the beginning of class, the student sitting next to me asked if I was ok. My finger was bleeding more than I thought. So I went to get a band aid. During class. But now, anyway, I know where the first aid kit is.
5. Twin boys in Thursday's 1A class (6-year-olds) stuck pencils in both of their nostrils and in their ears as the class started the test (this week, as I mentioned, was test week for all the children's classes). Both got up, smiling so big and so proud, to come over and show me. Yesterday, at the onsen after work, I could laugh about it.
-----
Adrian said you have to be able to laugh at yourself to survive here. That's true at school, as it is for any teacher, I'm sure. Culturally, I'm not quite at the point where I can open myself up to laugh yet, I don't think. On the weekends, when there's not a prearranged activity, I still feel pretty lost. I went for a really long walk today. I found the park I couldn't find when I went looking a couple of weekends ago, but I still feel really disconnected and limited because I can't speak the language. No one has been rude because I can't speak Japanese, and I don't think most people expect me to be able too, because I obviously am not Japanese and I don't look like I'm Japanese and most people aren't surprised when I can't understand what they say. And people really have been so welcoming - unbelievably welcoming, actually, going out of their way to help someone who - and it sounds so ridiculous when it's put like this, but this is what happened - came to their country with no idea how to speak the language, and so must be accomodated by them. (Today, it started to rain while I was walking and someone actually pulled their car over to offer me an umbrella.)
But language is so limiting. I feel like I can't go into a restaurant, I can't go to a tea or coffee house, I can't browse in a sweet store (and there are many of those there), I can't buy onsen tickets or take the train, I can't figure out how to get money out of my bank account via the atm. And I realize that these are in part (in large part, actually) limitations that I'm putting on myself. Today I organized some of the Japanese textbooks that I brought and the study notes left by previous teachers. Tomorrow, it is my intention to go to Doutour coffeeshop (they have a pointable picture menu), and get a few basic phrases down, so I can feel a little more comfortable. I also need to study a little so I can ask TK about the possibility of Japanese lessons; I want to have at least put in a minimal effort before I ask him to donate some of his time. I also want to make a list and schedule of places I definitely want to go while I'm in Japan, and then schedule a weekend or vacation when I will go there. I know I'm just starting, but I've also been here a month already, and I don't want to miss out on seeing and experiencing things while I'm here just because I didn't have things together.

Also, maybe a testiment to my state of mind, but I saw this for the first time today, and out of some mix of happiness and longing and gratefulness for the opportunities that are available and the opportunities that I've had and guilt for not being more satisified and brave and taking advantage of those opporutnities, and joy for the all the beautiful things there are, it made me cry. But, it's inspiring, I think. Bless matt, too.
http://www.wherethehellismatt.com/

Man, it's still raining. I wish I had some knitting needles.

things that are true today that weren't true yesterday

was going to write about something at work today, but then thought how odd that i would happen to come up with this title (for something completely unrelated) on the fifth anniversary of terrorist attacks. i always think of julia and her sister and her beautiful email reflection and "all about the fire in your life on the evening news."

ishinomaki

as long as i can post pictures...

ishinomaki as found on a sculpture outside the train station

undokai pics try ii

undokai

today... so much:
1. Five hours of undokai (sports festival) at the yochien (preschool) where we teach once a week. The preschool is associated with a Buddhist temple, and if I had to describe it in one word (which probably isn't a limitation that anyone but I am going to put on myself), it would be "charming." The school by itself is like something from a movie, with bright paintings of cartoon characters and playground equipment that includes an elephant slide, a t-rex slide, and a cow, a dachshund and more animals for climbing on.

Plus, of course, there's the children. First of all, the ones I teach are kindergarten age, so automatically there is an adorable factor with their tendency to stare off into space or cling to your leg and have hair that sticks up or is braided into pigtails and look so darn cute in their miniature clothes. (They wear uniforms and baseball-like hats complete with elastic straps that go under their chins. Baseball hats are color-coded according to children’s classrooms.)

But, because they are kindergarten-age and you are their teacher and you are American (and thus look different and act differently than other teachers and people in their lives and are a novelty), they are also so incredibly happy to see you. We (myself and whoever is assisting with the class... it alternates every week between TK and Shigeko, Mari, and Ai-san) walk by their classrooms on the way to the gym (where the classes are held), and there’s cries of “Kassie-sensai!” and little ones running up to give you a high-five or wave. They’re just so overjoyed to see you. I've only led one class at yochien, plus observed one and co-taught one with Adrian, but already they seem overjoyed to see me, like we’ve already bonded or I’ve proven myself (which I don’t like I have at all. But I don’t want to dismiss student appreciation. Heaven knows I’ll take it wherever I can get it.)

So, that’s the school: surrounded by this wooded mountain with an adjacent temple and in a building that belongs in a storybook and with enthusiastic children. Today, today, though, was just over the top (but not in a bad way).

Shigeko and I represented TK Study Room at undokai, and she picked me up at 8:10 a.m. this morning. This is plenty early considering I’ve gotten into the bad habit of staying up late and sleeping until 10 or (gulp) 11 a.m. since my workday Monday through Friday is 1-about 9:45 p.m. And it didn’t help that last night I stayed up until at 4 a.m. fucking around (for lack of a better phrase) online and with this very blog.

(Freshman year of college, the person who lived kittycorner across the hall from Sarah and me told me that the human body’s sleep cycle naturally repeats at 3 hours. So if you can’t get a full night’s sleep, she said, your body will feel more refreshed if you can something that’s a multiple of three – 3 hours or 6 hours. I still don’t know if that’s true, but I like to tell myself that when I can’t get as much sleep as I should. So 4 a.m.-7 a.m. = three hours of sleep.)

I woke up a little before my alarm, but went back to bed. Alarm went off at a little after 7 a.m., I was up, had those post-dream, pre-full conscious thoughts. As I mentioned in a previous post (yes! self-referencing), at 7 a.m., a song plays on a citywide broadcast system here. This morning, of course, was no exception. Except: shortly following the music today, there was a woman’s voice making an announcement in Japanese that, of course, I couldn’t understand. At that point, I started to wake up a little bit more. After living in Cannon Beach and being prone to worry anyway, I don’t take tsunamis and the possibility of sudden natural disasters lightly. What is this woman saying, is something wrong?, I half-wondered from my futon bed. (From ambulances to fruit salesman to recycling trucks, there are all sorts of recorded voices that are broadcast through speakers on vehicles here, so in a way I kind of tune them out because I can’t understand them, but I was paying more attention from my sleepy state because I could tell this was from the main speaker system, not a vehicle.) Then, when following the announcement, a siren went off, my heart went into overdrive. I jumped up from the floor, pulled on a pair of corduroys and looked out the window. Last night was the biggest and longest earthquake since I’ve arrived (and, again, it wasn’t bad at all. I think it maybe lasted 15 seconds – which probably means it lasted about 5 – and it wasn’t very strong), so I was also kind of primed for disaster. I pulled back the curtains, slid open the balcony door and watched to see what other people were doing - if it was serious and others were getting up and getting out. No one came out, and the siren stopped after two times (stopped after two times doesn’t make any sense to me now. “What do you mean stopped after two times?” Two blasts is nothing, and I know I was up and about for awhile before it stopped, but I never questioned the “two times” until I proofread this, but oh well.), so I figured things were OK, but my heart had been jump started and I was up for the day.

I asked Shigeko about the siren when she picked me up not quite an hour later, she said, yes, the voice means it’s just a test, and that she hadn’t heard it, and had I heard any fireworks this morning? Ishinomaki’s big festival is a fireworks festival, but it’s held in August (early August, I didn’t get to see it this year). However, I actually heard fireworks the night before, and told her so. No, she said, these fireworks would’ve been this morning. It was overcast today, and apparently in lieu of an announcement on the radio or television, to let parents’ know if undokai was still going on or not, they light off fireworks in the morning. One firework means the festival will go on; more means no festival today. Parents list for the fireworks to learn if the event will go on or not.

Man, I’m a tease. I haven’t even started to write about undokai and this is long and it’s getting late and I want to get to bed earlier tonight. But undokai, basically, is a school festival for families. Parents, grandparents, siblings, even cousins and aunts and uncles come to the school to watch students participate in races, dance and do choreographed pom-pom routines to music, play music, play games. There were games for parents (musical chairs which concluded an interview with the winner over the p.a. system) and grandparents (basically a relay using a crochet-like mallet to hit a ball down a line and run back) and parents and students together (making baskets with bean bags – cooler than I made it sound – and children riding on their mom’s shoulders and trying to take off other children’s caps). All the school’s teachers were, of course, busy with their classes, but I didn’t have any official duties than to wave at students, give them thumbs up and say “good job!,” so I sat next to the principle and the PTA president in the main tent under an archway decorated bouquets of at least two dozen balloons and cartoon characters rendered very skillfully from construction paper. It was so much fun. Five hours was perhaps a little long. But I took 118 pictures and four short videos of the action. Students performed to a Disney melody and to “Stars and Stripes Forever” and numerous Japanese tunes. Flags – both nations’ flags and flags with elephants and gators and those mass produced and those made by yochien students – were hung about over the field and along the classrooms. It was cute – or, kawaii. There were parachutes and students who lost one shoe during a race and kept going, and those who cut across the round dirt area where undokai races were held. I joined parents and other teachers for tug of war. I’ve been having some technical difficulties with posting photos on Blogger, and I question the wisdom of posting pictures of children I don’t know on the internet, so I’m only going to put a few pictures from undokai online. If you’re interested in seeing more pics, let me know and I can email them.


After undokai got over and Shigeko and I helped clean up, the sun came out and it was hot, and Shigeko asked me if I wanted to come back to her house to have “frappe” – like snow cone. She and TK are so wonderful. I so want to be a good employee for them. I want to be a good teacher, anyway, but they’re so wonderful to me, I want to do them justice. So, yes, we went back to her house, I had a reunion with their vocally uninhibited dog, Choco, and had shaved ice with maple syrup and condensed milk. TK had come back from his reunion with college friends in Sendai, so we all ate together and talked. I asked them about making ramen. The night before I was in the grocery and wanted to make ramen, but no clue. So, long story short, they asked me to stay for dinner, we went to the grocery, I asked them dozens of little questions about grocery-related items that I don’t realize I don’t know until I’m in the store and I have no way of asking anyone.

So, we had ramen and okonomiyaki (also called a Japanese pancake or Japanese pizza which I had had at their house before and tried to make at the apartment and failed through equal parts burning and having the cabbage and green onion doughy part fall apart) and I got lessons on ramen from Shigeko and okonomiyaki from TK. Dinner was followed by ice cream and sweet German wine and watching a serial samurai movie. Japan makes so much sense when I’m with them. And then I come back to my apartment where I don’t know the language or how to communicate or how to get anywhere or have a comfortable place to sit and read or anyone to talk to, and I feel kind of overwhelmed and lost. But, just because I don’t know the language now doesn’t mean I can’t learn.

Also! Today, heard from the meisties – shout out! – which suddenly made things seem a lot more manageable and enjoyable. ‘Cause, you know, you’re awesome. Love, all-enveloping love. And I’m so glad things are going well for you and healthy and happy and you’ve gone from PCT to PCV.

Thoughts from the Indigo Girls, who I have been listening to for part of the writing of this long-winded entry:

“Oh, the fear I’ve known, that I might reap the praise of strangers and end up on my own.”

“We are fortunate ones, fortunate ones, I swear.”

“maybe that’s all that we need is to meet in the middle of impossibility.”

“don’t you write you it down, remember this in your head. Don’t take a picture, remember this in your heart.”

away

some scenes from matsushima, japan as observed Sept. 9, 2006