Ryo Makes Me Hungry - Spring Holidays pt. 1

At first I thought I was just getting used to the cold, but there is now no doubt that we have crossed over from the hibernation of winter to the groggy hangover of spring. The birds are chirping, the snow is melting, and the rice fields - well they aren't green yet but they are a very promising shade of brown. Japanese schools run from April to March, so we are currently in the transition period between academic years. I say transition period rather than holiday because Japan is allergic to free time.

Spring Transition Period

In the UK, I used to wander about with my friends, play video games, and watch way too much day-time TV. In Japan, holidays are not days off. They are an opportunity to train. To contribute to society. To develop oneself. The students come in everyday at 8am for 4 hours of club activities. It's basically government run daycare.

On rainy days, they cant go out onto the field, so the Baseball and Athletics clubs run laps around the corridors, chanting over the sound of the Brass band practicing scales. 　I imagine an army barracks has a similar feel to it, except soldiers occasionally have some down time. And they aren't children. Everyone loves it because at least they aren't studying, which is what the large majority will be doing when they get home.

The teachers of course have no holiday at all and are expected to work regular hours. So when I leave at 4pm after a day of studying Japanese* and browsing text-heavy websites, everyone is still in the office toiling away, and will continue to toil until gone 7pm. Thank god I'm not a real teacher. One has to wonder what they are doing with all that time. I'm thinking of writing a post about it and calling it either "The Ancient Japanese Art of Pretending to Do Work", or "Boredom: A treatise on Japanese Work Culture."

Watch this space.

Homage to the 3rd Grade

Spring is also the season for change in the Japanese education system. I have mentioned before the unavoidable heartbreak of letting students go. Earlier this month the 3rd grade left to make room for the swarm of brand new seito that will descend on the school in April.  After a painful 2 hour ceremony, the students walked out the front door for the last time. The gathered crowd cheered. Tears were cried, photos were taken, and heartfelt words were exchanged. Not with me of course. I stood awkwardly in the corner trying to look like I fit in.

To top it all off, a flock of white cranes flew by in formation. The symbolism was not lost on the Japanese, who love a vague unexplained metaphor.** Something to do with moving on to new rice fields.

In all the hustle and bustle, the strange foreigner that played badly planned out English games with them once a week was not particularly the first thought on the graduates minds. I left the crowds to watch on from a distance and grieve in private.

Most of the students will be forgotten, melding together into the Japanese stereo types. The baseball boys. The class clown. The noisy obnoxious girl that is too cool to do the worksheet. The moral saint that gets visibly annoyed when other students are talking over the teacher. The quiet girl with two pigtails and glasses that is hardly paying attention because she's halfway through her book and cant wait to get back to it as soon and the bell rings.

However, two boys have done enough to separate themselves from the crowd. Writing about them here will hopefully give me the kind of closure the closing ceremony could not.

Japanese names are superbly difficult to remember, but I know Daiki's name - mainly because he was constantly being told off for talking at the back. Some classrooms in Japan are quiet because everyone is afraid to speak and look like an idiot. Daiki made a career of it, and as a result gave the class a relaxed atmosphere I am yet to recreate elsewhere. In one exercise he shouted out "Ryo makes me hungry" (Ryo being the coolest boy in class). When I tried to explain his mistake, he said "nonono", got up, walked across to Ryo, and mimed eating his arm. I taught Daiki the word "Cannibal" and he taught me that although Japanese 15 year olds seem very serious, they are in fact still children. And occasionally hilarious.

The second is a boy from up in the mountains, which was fitting because Riku towered over the other boys. I saw him at the elementary school one day helping the youngsters dig up yams from the school field  (you know you live in the inaka when there is an actual field full of crops attached to the school.) He had the rare habit of trying to genuinely communicate with me, rather than do the bare minimum to finish the exercise. Quick to smile, he always greeted me in the hallways, and knew how to say "We call it <Insert Japanese Word Here>", which effectively turned him into a walking dictionary. All the students wrote fair-well advice for the remaining students. Most copied directly from the model they were given, but he wrote

.

Which is so funny I don't need to write any more jokes. 

March 25th also happens to be when I was born. I told my teachers last week and no one remembered, so it meant a lot to get happy birthday messages throughout the day. Thank you to the center.

I didn't have room to talk about the teachers that are leaving or the end of term drinking parties, so stay tuned for part 2.  If the amount of actual work keeps up at this rate, I might just beat my usual post output of once in a blue moon. Remember to eat.

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* In other Japanese Language news - I was translating an Elementary school lesson plan into English when I stumbled upon an extremely dangerous Kanji mix up. Turns out "sex maniac" (shikiki) and colour tag (a Japanese children's game iro oni) are written with exactly the same kanji -色鬼. The Japanese are truly a fearless breed.

**For instance, the Japanese adage
"見ぬが花" (minu ga hana) - Not seeing is a flower

I much prefer the straightforward
"猿も木から落ちる" (saru mo ki kara ochiru) - Even monkeys fall from trees.

**-Disclaimer-**
So yeah, spring vacation ended about one month ago and I still haven't gotten round to writing a pt.2 - sue me. The lack of work did not in fact keep up at all, and I predictably kept to my usual tactic of writing only when absolutely necessary to chase off boredom. C'est la vie. You will never hear about the social studies teacher glued to his camera that I said goodbye to, or that funny thing that happened at the work party. Trust me, it was really funny.

The Wild Abandon of Live Music in Japan

Two weeks ago I went to my first Japanese music festival. The name, The Tokyo Hostess Weekender, may have mislead my friends to think I was going on a two day tour of strip clubs, but after going I can confirm there were far more guitars and far less seedy men singing Karaoke.*

"Festival" is also probably a little strong, considering it only had one stage, everyone didn't smell like a field, and no one was throwing beer. So maybe more of a concert. Or a two day gig. Anyway there were 10 bands playing, and I hadn't seen live music in 6 months so I was bubbling with enthusiasm. I mean, Radiohead and Sonic Youth** were playing. Even the 7 hour bus journey through countryside and Tokyo traffic didn't dampen my spirits.

I was also keen to observe the Japanese in the more relaxed setting of live music. Maybe they let their guard down. Maybe they get drunk and go wild. Maybe I would find the one.

Hats are In

First of course I should explain what this event really was. It took until we saw Caribou, a dancy housy electronic act (think 10 minute songs with one line of lyrics), followed directly by Belle and Sebastian (who often cut the choruses out of their songs to cram more words in over the top of jangly twee guitars) that I realised. The gig was a two day taster course of everything the western music biz were giving the coolie Tokyo-ians*** to lap up. None of the bands had anything in common musically. They all just happened to have popular albums coming out when they booked the venue.

So in the end I did not get to see much of the Japanese knee deep in wild abandon. Most of the crowd were not there to cheer on their favourite bands. They were instead window shopping. Some people of course were jumping about a bit at the front, and a couple of fan boys tapped their legs really enthusiastically, but the large majority watched with the disimpassioned gaze of a critic at an art gallery. There was a disproportionate number of berets. No one had their top off. People apologised for pushing past. I could have slid all the way to the front, but it felt too rude.

In between sets people put their medical masks back on and pulled out books rather than rushing for pints. And if you did sneak out for a beer, there was no free-for-all to get to the bar. There were just 3 huge lines of well behaved people snaking through the room. People waited their turn, drank their half pint, put the cups in the designated recycling bins, and went back for the next exhibition.

It's Real

The feel was best encapsulated by the early sets featuring the least know acts. As each song ended, there would be a polite moment of applause followed by silence as they waited for the next song. No laughter, no chitter chatter, no hustle and bustle. Just a sea of expectant faces wondering what the crazy gaijin were going to do next.

I am possibly being slightly unfair. Caribou, due to their lack of words and dancy beats, were perfect for the Japanese crowd to groove to and really got them going. The guy next to me even started yelling "Sun!" periodically and "Kakkoii!" as the music built. Real Estate were also amazing. I've never had a band make me feel so nostalgic for a place I've never been before. Like you've spent all day at the beach. The sun is going down so you slip a hoodie over the day's sunburn, then take the first sip of a fresh new beer. There is a fire of course, and all your favourite people are there. That's how the Real Estate set felt. With a mellow vibe like that, the whole crowd started swaying to the ripple and swell of the lilting guitar melodies. Suddenly I was in love with everyone and everything. The 4th beer helped.

Lovely Lips

Then during Temples I finally saw what I'd been hoping to see. I noticed a Japanese girl in the crowd entranced by the spectacle in front of her. As they started their final song, her eyes lit up. She then preceded to sing every word , one hand thrown in the air, the other clutching her book. I had never even heard of Temples, but this girl from the other side of the world had spent hours upon hours memorising lyrics. So I didn't quite see wild abandon, but definitely caught a snapshot of genuine fandom. She also happened to have a lovely looking pair of lips. I fell in love for the 100th time that day. Maybe I'd found the one.

I got back onto the bus, happy in the knowledge that Japan is full of beautiful women. While I fought the guy next to me for control of the arm rest, I resolved to study Japanese doubly hard so I can talk to them one day.

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* The Japanese version of a strip club is called a Hostess Bar. The target, I think is to simulate some kind of personal intimacy, rather than the western counterpart which is about seeing skin. Instead of dancing, they generally act flirtatiously, sing Karaoke songs for you, and ask for money. I know this because some friends and I accidentally wandered into one once and awkwardly sat their while the hostesses poured our drinks and tried to whisper sweet nothings into our uncomprehending gaijin ears. We very quickly realised our mistake, but had already paid for an hour long all you can drink, so had to stay. Truly awful. I'm sure no one enjoyed the predicament at all.

** Well, the drummer from Radiohead and the guitarist from Sonic Youth. Its basically the same.

*** Tokyo-ites? Tokyo-nin? Tokyo-kko?
I googled "What do you call people from Tokyo?" and the best answer I got was "Their first name if you know them, last name if you don't." And I know that the gig was aimed at the coolies because everyone was wearing hats. Coolies like hats. Hats are in.