To Kamikochi and Back: The Finale

The last two days were an absolute sprint out of the mountains and down the coast. I ended up pushing it a little too hard and didn't have the energy to write in the evenings, so I'm writing this post factum.

19/05/04 - Day 7

The mountains I came from

Came out after 48 hours off the bike, ready to get some mileage under my belt. On the way to Kamikochi, I had  been steadily rising for 5 days, barring a few dives into the cities tucked away in the valleys. That meant I had a 67km downhill saunter from 1400m to sea level. The weather was hot, not a cloud in the sky, so I loaded up on sun cream and set out on the road back home.

With the momentum of all my junk balanced on the back, I really flew down. Got to my intended campsite by about 1pm without doing anything you would call cycling. I just sat there, clutching at the breaks occasionally, watching the world go by. My wrists were more sore than my legs.

It would have been a shame to waste such lovely weather, and this seemed a good chance to see how far I could go in a day. I decided to get back on my bike, and powered on another 63km to Kurobe. Arrived as night fell, my first ever sunset to sundown. 130km in a day. Took a quick onsen bath, set up camp in the dark with my head-torch, and promptly passed out.

19/05/05 - Day 8

The Beach

Got up the next day with a measly 46km ride to Itoigawa on the coastal road. Now in my mind, Coastal road means flat easy riding next to the sea. The coastal road between Kurobe and Itoigawa was not like that. In fact, it's basically steep cliffs dropping into the sea. Apparently travelers of old used to camp in caves at the bottom of the cliffs, and would be trapped in them for weeks if the weather turned nasty and the waves rose.

The Cliffs

I was forced to climb back up into these terrifying half-tunnels they have here to protect the roads from snow and falling rocks. Made it to Itoigawa for lunch, back on my home turf in the prefecture of Niigata. I don't think I have a strong Japanese accent, but apparently I do. I had been having trouble getting myself understood for large chunks of the trip, especially in Nagano. I don't know if it was psychological or what, but as soon as I crossed the border line suddenly I was fluent again and everyone could understand what I was saying.

First sign of home.

The last bit of the route I've ridden loads of times before, a lovely bike path along an actual coastal road. Again, I was planning on camping in Itoigawa, but again I decided to push on. The promise of sleeping in my own bed with an actual mattress called me home too strong.

I pulled into town exhausted, quite possibly heat stroked, but victorious, 2 days before schedule. I've spent the last few days recovering, as Sunday I could hardly walk. Turns out I can do 220 km in two days, but I definitely shouldn't.

Post Game Reflections

I love doing this, and will be going full steam ahead with the China plan. When you cycle a long distance, you get into a somewhat zen-like state where you aren't focused on your thoughts. They just kinda float about, sorting out your problems in the background. There are no distractions, just me and the bike and the place I'm going. I hope I can keep up this positive mind set when I'm weeks or months into the long haul. 106 days and counting till I hop on the ferry.

I was mainly worried about being alone for over a week, but actually it's quite refreshing. It has however turned me into one of those weird people who start awkward conversations with you if you sit down next to them for too long. Some of the conversations were less awkward. I met a 60 year old guy walking home from Joetsu to Tokyo, a Mountaineer from Osaka who had been hiking up all the highest peaks in the Japanese Alps, and a couple from Korea who had quit teaching to cycle round Japan for 3 months. I am not alone in being crazy.

I also learned a lot about what is actually important on a long distance ride, and have come out with a whole new packing list. Hopefully I wont have to spend the first week in China buying things I need (or replacing stuff I stupidly forgot at home like my ground sheet.)

Best Stuff

3) Rain gear (jacket and trousers) from a workman's store. Just as good as the North Face #swankycampgear equivalent, at 1/10th of the price.

2) A bag of plastic bin liners, on my Mum's advice, that kept my camp gear dry in the rain and my dirty clothes separate from the clean ones.

1) My bike, I love her.

Worst Stuff

3) Ski Jacket. It's huge, and it never got cold enough to really need it. Walked around with it on in Kamikochi, but ended up carrying it when the sun came out.

2) Those damn shoes I started with. Gave me blisters, and almost lost my toes to frostbite. Much happier with my waterproof lavender abominations.

1) Loving a bike is much like being in love with a person. When you love the bike, everything that goes right re-affirms your affection. Everything that goes wrong... well that's not the bike's fault, it's just a difficult part it has. That said, I have a deep, burning hate for the front derailleur, where you have to be going at Mach 5 to get into the lowest gear. Heading to the bike shop right after this to get it adjusted.

Back in one piece.

To Kamikochi and Back: Part 2

19/04/30 - Day 4

What was originally meant to be a rest day turned out to be my highest mileage day yet. Had a bit of a slow start, because apparently 2 beers is enough to give me a bit of a hangover these days. Got up with the mission of getting a ground sheet and making inroads on the 158. Turns out sports stores in Japan are crap, and only sell ground sheets in with a tent. I guess Japanese people never leave them at home. Ended up getting a rather lovely blue tarp I found at the home center next door. It isn't exactly #swankycampgear, but it will do the job.

Set out towards the mountains, which looked ominously cloudy, foreshadowing what was almost the catastrophic end of my trip. I was trundling up happily enough, when I saw one of those digital signs giving out warnings. It said some fairly confusing things in Japanese, but from what I could gather, the upper part of the 158 was closed for some reason. The only other way through is a toll-tunnel for cars only. Lacking 2 wheels and a motor, I was a tad worried I wouldn't get by.

Got to the nearest information center. The guy there is absolutely lovely, but has no idea what I was talking about. Thankfully he called someone who did. The 158 mountain pass is closed, because it is still completely covered in snow. And it won't open again till the end of may. At this point I'm starting to panic. I really don't want to head back the way I came with my tail between my legs, but it's starting to look unavoidable. In a last ditch attempt to score a lift, I suggest maybe a car could give me and the bike a lift or something... My lovely guy jumps back on the phone. After some quick back and forth excitedly informs me that I can throw my bike on a bus at a stop half way up, as long as I put the bike in a bike bag. Overjoyed that I a) wouldn't have to go home early, and b) wouldn't have to climb the highest and worst bit of the 158 guilt free, I headed back into town to buy said bike bag.

I was so overjoyed in fact, that I pushed through some mental barriers and got even further up than attempt 1. Now camping in a deserted park next to a dam, full of beautiful cherry blossoms with no one but me to see them.
38km + 14km down + 19km back up = 71km! Nice going kid.

19/05/01 - Day 5

Started off the day real early, all packed and ready to go by 7. See I had woken up at 5 and couldn't get back to sleep on account of the nerves starting to grow in the pit of my stomach. From the Dam to the bus stop, I'd have to pass through 9 tunnels, two of which were over 1000m long.

Fear is a funny thing. I was anxious about the tunnels all the way up, cresting into full blown dread as I prepared to enter the first one. They are long, narrow, dark, and a good fifth of the traffic here is giant tour buses lugging people up to the nature. The reality though is often far better than what your fear builds it up to be. I could do with remembering that a little more often in everyday life. Going to work on Monday mornings, big parties with loads of people, doing the dishes... its never as bad as you imagined it would be.

Anyway, I'd come this far, and there was no other way round. I waited for a break in the traffic and took the plunge. Adrenaline kicked in big time, so I didn't stop and flew through as fast as I could all the way out the top.*

After the tunnels, everything was peachy. Well, comparatively so. It started chucking it down with rain, but I was so relieved to be alive that I didn't care. Made it to the bus stop, had a much needed bath at an onsen, then stuffed my bike in a bag to get on the bus. Got to Hirayu, where I dropped off my unneeded stuff and bike at the place I'd be staying on the 3rd.

The next two days I'd be camping up in Kamikochi, which meant another bus into the national park. Everyone at the bottom told me not to bother going with all the rain, but I had no where else to be, so I figured I'd risk it. Things were looking pretty grim, but the rain let up at 6pm, so I seized my chance and set up camp. 2 beers later, I was fast asleep in every single piece of clothing I'd brought, as the temperature dropped to about 2°C overnight.**

19/05/02 - Day 6

Woke up in the National park, glad to see the sun peaking through the clouds. I thought about sleeping and lounging about the tent all day, but it would have been a real sin not to walk around a bit after coming all this way. Ended up hiking about 15km up and down the river, but compared to the daily 45km+ up to this point, it felt pretty easy on the legs.

Where winter meets spring

When I planned this trip, a few people told me I was going too early. Turns out they were for the most part right. Spring takes a long time to make it this far up the river, and had only just really arrived. Snow still sat in the shadows, and none of the spring flowers had yet come into bloom.

As I am alone, I spent the larger part of the day people watching. Kamikochi is an interesting place. Near the center, there are a bunch of ridiculously expensive hotels and lodges for the super rich to experience The Nature™. The paths are flat and easy. Everyone on them is out in their prada and gucci. It really is the wild, cornered off and made safe for easy consumption. Capitalism's commodification of nature, exhibit A.

Spotted these two mad lads
hiking up with full packs AND snowboards

Step 20 minutes outside the center, and it's a completely different story. There you see the real pros, dressed to the nines, ready to take on the mountains. Helmets, ice picks, crampons, #swankycampgear galore. Kamikochi for them is just the first checkpoint on long treks up to the nearby peaks.

I felt under dressed for both camps, so resorted to watching the two tribes mingle and eating a bunch of ice cream.***

19/05/03 - Day 7

Took it even easier today, and mozied on out of Kamikochi at about 3. Good bye, you've been good to me. I headed back down to Hirayu to stay in a fancy ryokan, before charging down to the coast for the home stretch. I've had little internet or phone charge for the last two days, so I haven't been replying to messages, or keeping up with the world in general. It's been bliss. Now I'm back, so I'm writing this. Stay tuned for the final chapter. Who knows, I may not even have to go shopping next time.

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*Anyone who is foolish enough to bike anywhere in Japan will inevitably hit tunnels. Unless there is a really wide hard shoulder, my advice is to take an

aggressive line and make cars go round you wide into the other lane. Unless it is a giant tour bus. Then you hug the wall and pray.

** Thank you Lorna for getting me that giant -10°C sleeping bag! When it first came I thought it was a tad unnecessarily bulky, but now I'm in love. Top 5 birthday presents ever.

*** Of course, I am being rather hyperbolic. I'm sure plenty of visitors were just normal people up for the day to get some fresh mountain air. Kamikochi's accessibility gives everyone a chance to see the Japanese Alps in all their glory without having to invest thousands of pounds in camp-wear.

To Kamikochi and Back: Part 1

Google maps is doing my head in, so if anyone has a
better way of mapping and showing you guys my route, let me know!

19/04/27 - Day 1

First day. Almost didn't happen on account of absolutely torrential rain all morning. I kept popping my head out, hoping it would go away, but it just kept coming. Came to about 2pm and I decided I just had to risk it, or I wouldn't get to Lake Nojiri before it was dark. I encased all my camping stuff in plastic bin liners and set out into the maelstrom, ready for the worst. However 30 minutes in the rain slowed down to a drizzle and eventually petered out. Thank the heavens for small mercies.

Most of the way, I snook up a little side street, but about halfway up I had to join the 18, a fairly major road up to the ski fields. Now what you don't notice when driving up in a car, is that it really is "up". You separate the bits of road, not by climb and flat, but by climbing and climbing a lot. Its strange being half way down your gears, chugging up a mountain, thankful for the rest, because you're only slightly having to fight gravity. I knew it would be a challenge with a fully loaded bicycle, but I don't think I appreciated before I got going how annoying it is to be dragging a whole other person's worth of weight up mountains.

As I got to Myoko Kogen, I started to realise that my toes were freezing. I had some pretty durable shoes, but the tops were canvas, so the whole inside was soaked. There is nothing worse than wet socks. Went past a sign that said it was about 5 deg. C. Then it started full on snowing. Thankfully with all the climbing I was doing, my upper body was like a furnace in my rain gear, but my toes...  Oh lordy. Finally made it to Lake Nojiri, which is beautiful, but I had absolutely no energy to look around. About half way up, I'd realised how bad the weather was, so I knabbed a last minute hostel near the lake half way up. They even had an onsen to defrost the remaining toes I had left. Ate a huge pizza, had a beer, now I'm writing this, but exhausted, so I'm just gonna go to bed. So glad I managed to get started today after everything. Hoping for an early morning tomorrow, cause I have to detour a bit and cut through Nagano city to see about getting some shoes a bit more waterproof than today's pair.

19/04/28 - Day 2

Lake Nojiri in the morning

What a day. Had a brilliant breakfast at the guest house before setting off nice and early. From Nojiriko to Nagano city, it was all down hill. Except I couldn't enjoy it so much, cause in this part of the country what goes down must come back up. Nagano city sprawls out in a river basin sandwiched between mountains on either side. The road in is spectacular, as it runs through hundreds of apple orchards. Although sakura is all the rage in Japan, turns out apple blossoms are pretty gorgeous too. I stayed mostly on the outside of the city with the levy road looking down to the river, but nipped in for lunch and an extremely successful trip to Sports DEPO. After yesterday's close call with toelessness, I thought it would be a good idea to get some waterproof shoes. I also wanted to get my bike checked.

For those of you who haven't ridden a bike in years, the front three gears are the main ones, while the back gears let you alter your speed within the limits of those front gears. Yesterday I discovered, predictably while on a fairly steep hill, that I couldn't push down into my lowest front gear for some reason (which is an absolutely terrible place to discover such things.) Got to Sports DEPO, and had a guy have a look at it. Turns out there's absolutely nothing wrong with it. I just need to stop being a wimp and pedal faster. You have to be turning your legs at a certain speed for it to work, particularly hard to do half way up a hill. Secret is to go all the way down to bottom gear as soon as you sniff an incline coming.

I also had to take care of my feet. There was this absolutely beautiful pair of orange wide fitting waterproof "GUARENTEED" shoes. I need wide fitting cause I have fat feet. This has no effect on my other body parts, only me feet are... chode-y. Anyway, they didn't have any in my size, so I had to settle for the same shoe in a strange lavender color my mum would love. It's been sunshine all day, but I'm sure they'll be a worthwhile purchase.

After lunch I faced the mountains. I kinda knew it was coming, but didn't quite imagine how climbing 800m in 11km would feel. Every time I saw the 10% slope sign I died a little more inside. There was definitely a point quite near the start where I didn't think I'd make it. Instead of packing in and heading home I just took a ridiculous amount of breaks, and tried to look like I was having a good time for all the incredulous faces peeping out at me from the passing cars.

Group Photo

3/4ths of the way up, I went round a corner and stumbled upon a golf course and clubhouse, all the way up in the mountains. I'd lost the last bit of my pride around the 10th break, so I decided to go in and fill up my water-bottles. I have never felt so dirty, or received so many dirty looks in my life. Finally made it up to the campsite, only to find I'd forgotten my ground sheet at home. Thankfully its nice and dry, but I'll have to try and find a stand-in during my free day in Matsumoto. I'm knaked. Night.

19/04/29 - Day 3

I wrote way too much yesterday, so gonna keep it short. Come on Richard, no one want's to hear about shoes!

The least cool pair of shoes I've ever bought

As a reward for day 2's climb, I followed a couple of canyon and river roads to Matsumoto, for the most part downhill. Got to the Guesthouse at 1pm, way before check-in, but they let me in early cause I know Japanese and smile a lot. Took a well needed shower, washed my clothes, and had an extremely satisfying 2 hour nap.

I was thinking of taking a rest day tomorrow, but instead I'll rest this afternoon and skip it. The 158 up to Kamikochi looks absolutely savage, so I want to get as far up it as I can to break up the climb.

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Sorry this post isn't as well edited as usual. I'm writing on the go. Still working out how much detail is really necessary when I do a daily log instead of my usual one-a-year post. Bear with me while I get the balance right. Next installment is the make or break of the trip, climbing another 1000+ meters to Kamikochi. Wish me luck.

Feeling Blue: Climbing Mountains

Tom came to visit, we had a great time
getting drunk under the cherry blossoms.

I spent January crawling in and out of the cave in my room, avoiding the future, and generally feeling sorry for myself. By the end of the month though, I was sick of being blue. It was time to face up to the mountain, and answer the ever-present question: "So what are you gonna do next?"* Somewhere between here and there a plan has sprouted. But it's not the kind of plan I can just come out and say without sounding absolutely insane. It needs a bit of a preamble.
 
Picking Ladders

Working out the next step was a mountain-like-problem for me because of two mainly self-imposed reasons. For one, I had grown complacent out here teaching Japanese, leaving me completely unprepared to go back into the job hunt world. I hadn't updated my CV in 6 years, and Linkedin still felt like Facebook for parents. I had no idea what jobs were out there, let alone whether they'd take someone like me.

Secondly, I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life. I don't know now either, but back then I really didn't. I couldn't even choose a country. Japan? The UK? And everyone who I spoke to added more choices. "Why don't you come live with me in Australia?" "There's a job here in Canada you'd be perfect for."

Even if I was able to settle on a country, what about the career? It felt like I'd reached that point in life where you have to choose a ladder. A ladder I'd spend the rest of my adult life climbing. Except I'd have to pick the ladder blindfolded, and no one could quite tell me where the ladders went, or whether it was really that great up at the top when you got there. I was so inundated with fairly identical looking ladders, that I almost gave up and crawled back in the cave.

Apparently this is a problem that a lot of people out here teaching in Japan face, so much so that the JET programme set up a two day "After JET conference" to help us make up our minds. First day, a bunch of talks on different industries. Day two, a job fair. I went into it excited, full of optimism that I'd find thousands of exciting prospects for the future, and that one of them would catch my imagination.

It was not like that. The people there weren't even speaking my language. I mean sure, they were speaking English. But rather than talking about job satisfaction and meaning and fulfillment, they spoke about advancement, and how to get ahead of the competition, and the money you could make doing so.

Throughout the course of the two days, it slowly dawned on me that I don't really want to get on many of these ladders. Which is lucky, because if I did want to, turns out I'm not qualified to get on most of them. Rather than helping me find new prospects, the conference slowly killed off various different day dreams I'd had about the future. Translation companies want people with better Japanese. The Olympics wants people with event planning experience. Engineering companies want Science graduates. The only people who did want me were English cram schools. A fair profession, but one without much room to make a career of it. Less a ladder and more of a footstool.

Until I had my one on one "career counseling session". I spoke to this absolutely lovely person who taught at a school in Canada. After listening to hundreds of people talking the foreign language of business and finance, I finally found someone who spoke my language. She spoke about job satisfaction and meaning and fulfillment. A breath of fresh air.

I left the conference, resolved to go back to the UK and become a Primary school teacher. That means getting teacher qualified, either on the job or back at Uni. I got home, ready to make it happen, only to find I had missed the application deadline. By a whole 3 months. And the next application period isn't until October, for programmes starting in September 2020. Another plan, dashed before it even began. Now what am I gonna do?

On the brink of existential crisis, I was saved by some wise words, which I have a feeling my mother would prefer not to take credit for considering the result. She told me to see this time as an opportunity, not an obstacle. An opportunity? My life has no meaning or direction! An opportunity to do what? Well, to do whatever I really want to do. Which is nominally the case for everyone every day, but having a whole year free to fill definitely threw it into relief for me.

I took a look at my life, and thought about what I really wanted to do. Which was a bit awkward, because I had just recently done that and landed on being a Primary school teacher

Climbing Mountains

It's hard to track how an idea came to be. A speech about taking time traveling to work out what you want in life. A friend mentioning a guy who cycled in Asia on his way back home. A random Reese Witherspoon movie about solo hiking from southern California to Oregon, sparking the idea of doing a big solo trip like that. Or the boys here in Japan that somehow talked me into buying a road-bike 4 and a bit years ago. Whatever its origins, the idea took root and started to grow.

I should cycle.
Cycle a long way.
All the way home in fact.

I'd hop on the ferry from Osaka to Shanghai, cycle through China, up into Kazakhstan, down to Azerbaijan and Georgia, through Turkey into Europe, then across the Channel from France. 13,000km,  15ish countries, in a little under a year, poetically taking me from my miniature apartment in Japan, all the way back to the green shores of Albion.

The Long Way Home on the Northern Silk Road

Over the last 3 months I have nurtured this idea lovingly in the hope that it blooms and becomes a fully-fledged plan. Every day, I've been reading cycle touring blogs, pouring over "recommended" lists of every type of camping gear, and plotting out routes through China. I've even been studying Chinese. 我叫Richard. 很高兴认识你!

Now, I will be the first to admit that this plan is a tad ambitious. There are a lot of question marks that really can't be answered now and will just have to be dealt with when I get there. I don't know how it will work out, or if I'll even make it past the first hurdle of the cycle down to Osaka, but I'm rearing to give it a real good go.

I'm starting to feel comfortable with the idea of doing this, as I've been cultivating it up there in the back of my head for months, but there remained the tricky proposition of convincing my Mum and Dad it's a good idea. I was so nervous about what they might think that I kept putting it off, and only ended up telling them because I wanted to write this. I figured I should probably tell them directly that I'm planning on being voluntarily homeless for the next 300 days, rather than hear it second-hand from a blog.

Turns out my parents are brilliant people who will cautiously support me whatever stupid thing I decide to do next. At first impression, Dad seems quite excited, Mum mildly panicked. She's mostly concerned that I'm doing it alone, and that I'm gonna get mugged in Kazakhstan which is completely valid. Thankfully though I will have at least one constant companion with me. I bought a new bike and she's an absolute beauty (which is lucky cause we are going a long way together.)

I'm taking her on a long distance 12 day test run over Golden Week.** This is of course to make sure I don't go insane being alone for that long, and that I actually enjoy cycling up hills carrying half my life on the back of my bike. I was thinking of keeping the blog updated every few days or so about my progress. If this goes well, I'll be buying a ferry ticket, and heading out to China sometime mid August.

 So there it is. That's the plan. I'm gonna cycle home from Japan. Then I'm gonna get qualified and teach small children. Everything is gonna be fine.

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*Getting out, and staying out of caves is not always an easy process. I've found maintaining to do lists, keeping a daily schedule, and trying to instigate good habits (without beating myself up so much when they don't stick) has been working pretty nicely. Exercise and proper sleep is also doing wonders.

**Golden week is this glorious time of year where a few public holidays line up to give us five or six days off work. But this year, through some divine stroke of luck, the Emperor is abdicating. There is an extra day off for that, and a day for the start of the new Reiwa era, and because the Emperor is so nice, the extra day in between is being given to us too, making 10 consecutive days off. My teachers are going nuts. A 54-year old English teacher told me yesterday, this is the longest he's had off work since he started.

Feeling Blue: The Cave

In the week following New Years I found I'd gotten myself into a bit of a pickle. Sat, cocooned in blankets, with the same pajamas I'd been wearing for who knows how long, smelling like I hadn't showered in days.. because I hadn't showered in days. Every item of clothing I owned was out of the cupboards, strewn about on the floor, and dirty. It had been at least 48 hours since I'd seen or spoken to a flesh and blood real life person. The only food left, a jar of peanut-butter. My transformation complete, I was finally ready to live out the rest of the winter as a hibernating bear.

Except niggling at the back of my mind was the thorny knowledge that I wasn't happy, and everything was not okay. The month before Christmas my long-term girlfriend broke up with me - thankfully before I'd bought a present, but unfortunately after we booked flights to see my family over the holidays*.

From the beginning, this relationship had been a bit of an outlier for me. My usual pattern is to fall deeply in lust with someone, so much so that I unconsciously change who I am to fit what I think they'd like, then put them up on a pedestal, ignoring their faults and painting them perfection itself. The one.

At some point, sometimes a mere week or two later, the shine wears off and I remember who I am, and see who they are... and my over-puritanical mind goes, - "Are you really gonna marry her though?"

The answer has almost always been no, and I kinda just ghost out of there with as little mess as possible.

In this case, things were different. It was the first time I said I love you, and she said it back, and I thought it was true for both of us. It was my first time getting jealous, needy, emotionally vulnerable, all that couple-y stuff. It was the first time I started planning a two person future instead of looking for a route out when things got serious. So of course, it is fitting that it ended up being my first time being broken up with.

To double down on self loathing, I'd let myself believe things were going well. I was fully intending on finding work in Japan next year and making things work here. A plan. A plan for the future. Almost as rare for me as having a long-term girlfriend. Losing both at the same time.. well it's safe to say I was not dealing with it well. I fell into the black hole.

I have said to a lot of people over the years, "Sorry, I fell into the black hole." It sometimes happens that for all intensive purposes, I disappear from  the face of the earth for a few days. Usually this means defaulting on plans, not answering their messages, then appearing 3 days later with a guilty grin on my face. But "black hole" isn't quite right. A black hole is a big, powerful, cosmic, ripping force. Where I actually go, there's no movement, no action. It's life on mute.

Maybe a more accurate metaphor then, is that I tuck my knees up and crawl into the cave. For those of you with healthy coping mechanisms, let me explain.

The Cave

It goes like this.
You see a problem in the distance. It would usually be nothing, but every once in a while the brain goes all Alice-in-wonderland syndrome-y about your problems. They stretch and grow to monstrous sizes, you getting smaller and smaller in comparison, until you can't imagine where to make the first cut. There it stands, a humongous thing in the distance, inevitable yet impassable. Well, it's sometimes one humongous problem. Other times, it's a million little ones stacked up on top of each other in an enormous trench-coat.

No one believes they can climb a mountain when they see it from far away. So you crawl into the cave. Bury your head. Sit and wait with your eyes closed, hoping it will pass you on by.

Occasionally, you peek round the mouth of the cave, just a sliver to check, but all you catch is a glimpse of shadows, big things in the distance. More shadows. Each time more numerous and even more impossibly large, so you close your eyes, and find anything to avoid thinking. Thinking about the shadows. Thinking about the big things in the distance, immovable and cold.

To the point where you've got no food left. Well no food that doesn't need cooking. Cooking takes pre-planning and organisation and action. It requires you to get up from where you're sat, eyes closed, waiting for it all to pass. So you rummage through the kitchen for anything remotely edible and end up eating spaghetti with ketchup on top. Peanut-butter with a spoon. A whole pack of omiyage you were fully intending on bringing to school and giving to your teachers.**

Reminders from the outside world keep poking their head through the window, carried on the wings of Hermes.*** On your phone is 10 unread messages.  You can't open then, because then you'd have to act, open your eyes and get up. You'd have to answer, because that's what people expect. More shadows, bigger and bigger. So you keep on distracting yourself with familiar things. Nothing new, nothing moving forwards.

The game you've played for years.
The music you've heard a million times.

Old shows, where you know how it starts and how it ends. As each joke is set up, you laugh, reassured because you've heard the punchline before. Its static. It can't surprise you. No new shadows. No new calls to action. It's three in the morning. Looks like you've ruined tomorrow too. Good. There's no way you can do anything tomorrow, with so little sleep. You'll have to stay in the cave, hidden away. It may sound like a sad place to be, but its not. Sadness is just another one of those things casting shadows in the distance. See, you crawled into the cave to avoid feeling. To escape it. The calm from the storm outside.

Wrapped in Cotton

For a lot of people this wouldn't work. I don't know whether it's duty, or strength on their part, but the outside world calls to them too strongly. They cannot keep their head buried for long, it only reminds them of what has to be done, like covering a burning coal with a cotton scarf. For me though it is perfect. I have some issues with attention anyway, so at times like these I just put something flashy on a screen in front of me... and I'm away. Youtube, to reddit, to game, to video, to movie, and back again. With that much variety, there's no time to be thinking, much less feel.

And then it just stretches on and on until... Its all boring. I binge until I'm sick of it. Until my revulsion with watching one more mindless one hour youtube compilation video outweighs how afraid I am of the humongous thing on the horizon.

Things have to change. No one can remain in the cave forever. The mountains come ever closer, as sure as night follows day. Even we, with our head firmly thrust in the earth can feel it. You cannot stand still. Time pushes you forward, into the mountains, onto the climb. And if your legs falter, and you trip, it passes you by. It has places to be, regardless of whether you are ready for the ascent.

I open eyes and look to the mountains. I am absolutely exhausted from doing absolutely nothing.

-

Its been so long since I wrote last, and I'm afraid I've forgotten how to be funny, so sorry if missed some jokes this time.

This post doesn't have a witty roundness to it, because I don't know how it finishes yet. Hopefully I'll add a part II in the coming months, but I'll make no promises as I'm known to break them when it comes to writing. Rest assured though, that I'm feeling much better.

-

* Thankfully she didn't come out to Malaysia, but I was in a terrible mood the whole time, and got in a fight with my Mum cause I was pushing everyone away, and ended up crying a bunch. Sorry for almost ruining Christmas. I love you guys.

** In Japan, it is traditional to bring a small, individually wrapped cake or snack called omiyage to school after you take paid leave. It's a nice gesture to the people who have covered for you and picked up your slack while you've been gone. They do take it too far though. A co-worker missed some work to go to their father's funeral, and brought in strawberry tarts to apologise.

*** Even though the messages go unread for days at a time, I am eternally grateful to the people who reach out to me when I disappear. To the angels of mine who go out of their way to include me, no matter how unresponsive and unreachable I may seem - thank you for being brilliant people.

Japanese School Lunch

For school lunches in the UK, I remember there being a cafeteria where you could pick your own meals. So much freedom, but at what cost? Most kids don't have the kind of restraint necessary to go for healthy over delicious. Of course there was salad, but what 15 year old CHOOSES salad? I'm pretty sure my friends and I had pasta, cheese, and beans every day for two years straight. Bliss.*

While the same cannot be said about English education, the Japanese take kyuushoku (school lunch) very seriously.There is one set meal a day, and everyone (barring allergies) has to eat it. Each middle school has a Jamie-Oliver-esque employee, whose only job it seems is to make the menu for the month and collect the lunch money.

My fellow ALTs and I have a passionate love-hate relationship with kyuushoku. When it's bad, its almost inedible. A good 70% of the time there's questionable fish, natto is pretty regular, and oh my god, the salads. Seaweed, Cabbage, mandarin orange slices, and miniature dried fish is not a salad. It's torture.

When it's good though, it's the best. I could be having the shittest week imaginable, but when I turn the corner towards the lunch room and can smell curry, everything turns to sunshine. Curry day is best day. Fact.

How to Not Lose Weight in Japan

Before I came to Japan, everyone was always telling me that Japanese food is super healthy. And in the beginning it seemed to be that way. So much so that I was in danger of losing weight. Or even worse, becoming slim and attractive. The horror.

Now if you find yourself in this predicament, never fear. I have spent the last 3 years researching in secret. Let Licha-do sensei tell you one weird trick to keep your arms flabby and muffin tops protruding.

Rice. White rice. Every day. Loads of it.

It started off innocent enough. 'Mottainai' is the Japanese cultural tradition of "waste not, want not". It comes from the Shinto belief that even the smallest objects have souls. Every grain of rice, every sesame seed, every weird little dried fish thing in my salad. As a result, kids are generally forced to eat all of their school lunch, especially in Elementary school (Even if they are absolutely stuffed, or don't like the food).

After everyone receives their nutritionally allotted amount, there is always left over soup, salad, and rice. It is the responsibility of the class to eat these too. Teachers wander around, cajoling the kids to take just a little bit more, desperate to get rid of that ethical weight hanging round everyone's neck.

One day I was feeling a little hungry, so I took some extra rice to help out. Suddenly I have a reputation for being a big rice-eater. I'm getting seconds every day, and there's no stopping it. More rice at the end? Why not give Ri-Chan thirds? He loves rice. Can't get enough. Thank you so much Richa-do.

Now it feels rude to say no. They are so happy to be rid of it that I just let it happen. What started as a carefully balanced meal has become a daily, non-stop, empty-carb, endurance challenge. The worst part is, I've gotten used to it. If I haven't eaten two or three bowls of rice in a day, my stomach starts grumbling.

2nd Dessert

Last week I hit the Jackpot. Its lunch time, and everything is fantastic. The salad looks edible, gyoza instead of fish, and for a special treat, strawberry tart.

One kid is out ill, so their meal is to be divvied up amongst the other students. I am inevitably given double rice. Dessert though is different. Its a highly prized commodity. Like Jackals circling for the kill, almost every boy (and myself) get up to Janken for 2nd dessert.**

15 becomes 10, then 5, then 1.
Ive done it.

After almost 3 years of losing every lunchtime, I finally win. With glee I clutch my prize to my chest. A small part of me feels guilty for stealing dessert from my own students mouths. A much larger part thinks that after all the mushy potatoes and bony fish Ive put up with, Ive earned this.

I sit back down with the kids. Everyone is clearly envious, which makes it all the better. After tackling my mountain of fluffy whites, Its time to savor my victory. As the awe-filled children look on in disbelief, I slowly unwrap my second strawberry tart, and jam the whole thing into my mouth all in one go.

Victory is sweet. So sweet in fact that Ive basically written the last 800 words purely so I could brag about it.
Delicious.

-

*If you swap out pasta and beans for rice and beer, you've basically described my current diet outside of school. Not much changes. Old dogs, new tricks, all that jazz.

**Janken is the most ancient Japanese art of conflict resolution. Whenever anything in Japan must be decided fairly, opponents are pitted in the ultimate game of wits. Whether its choosing teams, deciding who goes first, or who gets the extra milk, Janken is the all-powerful arbiter. In the west it is more commonly know by another name: "Rock-Paper-Scissors."

Beards and Back-country Snowboarding.

Around Christmas, I realised that I had not just forgotten to shave for a few week. Stubble had evolved to something much more exciting. It was becoming beard-like. More beard-like than it had ever been before. A blanket for my face.

At this pivotal moment, I had a choice. On one side stood professional respect, approachablity, and sexual appeal. When I'm clean shaven, I look less homeless and more like I have my shit together. My students don't shrink back in horror and fear as I walk in a room.  People tell me how young I still am. The school nutritionist asks me whether I enjoyed lunch, and giggles when I reply with "Er.. yea... oishii.. thanks." Shaven is clearly the "right" choice. The choice a sensible person would make.*

On the other side of this monumental crossroads loomed a great big bushy beard that would keep my face warm while freezing to death huddled on ski lifts.

"To shave or not to shave" is just one iteration of the hundred-odd choices we make daily, each spanning the same spectrum. Do I go for a run or play video games? Try to eat healthy or succumb to beer and Mac-Donald's? Act or leave things be. The eternal choice between what we should do and laziness.

Sometimes its just far too difficult. In my typical procrastinatory fashion, I put off choosing. Except "putting off choosing" is often a choice in itself. This is definitely true in regards to growing beards.

Cowboy-Kun and the Gnar-Gnar Pow-Pow

After another month of putting off, I had started to look like a bird was building a nest on my face. However it was mid-way through snowboard season, and the extra layer of insulation came in useful the day when I got lost on the slopes.

It was a Saturday. The night before it had been chucking it down with snow. By morning, the sun had started to peer around the mountain tops at the fresh blanket sprinkled over the rice fields. Beautiful powder and clear skies. A bluebird day. Every snowboarder's dream.

We start the day riding on the official courses, but I'm with Cowboy-kun. I call him Cowboy-kun because he's from Texas, and every time we go out together he herds me along, like a runty longhorn staggering across the Rocky Mountain Front. Cowboy-kun doesn't stick to the courses. He's on a constant search for the freshest gnar-gnar pow-pow** out there. And that means going off piste.

Every run we are on the hunt for untouched snow, slipping under the "do not enter" sign to the pristine back-country in the trees. Cowboy-kun thinks we can go out just a little bit further, and sneak back on to the course further down. Snow clouds are starting to roll in, but he figures it's worth the risk.

The river

We get there and its perfect. Waves and waves of fluffy powder curve and arch around the tree trunks. Its more like surfing than snowboarding. I'm carried away, floating on top of the white cloud below me.

Suddenly I remember myself. And I remember where I am. I pull up, but Cowboy-kun is no where in sight. I've clearly missed the point where we had to turn back. To the right, a terrifyingly steep valley no one as yet has ridden on. To the left are a group of tracks, leading in the exact opposite direction of where the course is. There I am, a lost cow, all alone in the middle of nowhere. The sun goes behind the clouds. More snow starts to fall. All I can hear is the muted patter of snowfall, and my increasingly heavy breathing. I have no choice but to follow the tracks. This is gonna be quite the adventure. At least I have my beard to keep me warm.

The quest to rejoin civilization starts well, but ends with walking for more than 15 minutes in a never-ending sea of white. The top of the mountain is steep, so I can glide along comfortably, and even start to enjoy being lost. Then I hit the flat riverside between the mountains.

Do not follow this route unless you enjoy hiking

When people talk about how great back-country boarding is, the bit they never seem to mention is when you're carrying your board through thigh-deep powder. Its a sensation much like trying to drag a log through quicksand. I mean Ive never done that, but I'm certain its the same.

An hour later the sound of Japanese pop music echoes through the empty hills.*** I stumble out of the wilderness and onto a road near a ski lift. Except Ive never seen this place before. Somehow I've managed to traverse two valleys and a river, ending up in the ski resort over. Bloodied and bruised, I head to the bus stop and catch a 15 minute ride back to my car.

Shaving For Graduation

March rolls around, and my face blanket is getting out of hand. Now if I wanted to give you some fancy-smansy Hollywood ending, Id tell you I shaved because my 3rd years were graduating. Because I wanted to be at my best the final time they saw me. Because I cared so deeply about them and their future.

The truth is far more self serving. First of all, its not all its cracked up to be. Beards are itchy, sometimes you get food stuck in them, and whenever you see anyone the first thing they say is "wow, your beard's getting big." I know. I grew it myself.

I also imagined that Id look glorious and handsome, like Pirlo, or Hemingway. The problem is, my sideburns grow exponentially faster than any of the other hair on my face. This gives my beard a decidedly Amish flavour. The result was not glorious. Instead think Tom Hanks in castaway, or one of those weird dwarfs from the god-awful Hobbit movies.****

Then my kids got involved. The boys from first grade would berate me daily with:

"Big face. You hair cutto. I am sorry, hige sori."

Which is the worst japanese gag going. "hige sori" is the Japanese phrase for shaving. And it rhymes with "I'm sorry". Hilarious. Gets even better when you hear it 10 times a day.

The final straw though was a kid who got a little too into my beard. During lessons, he would try to stroke my face. Apparently I looked just like a "super cute lion with soft soft fur." Very fuwa-fuwa. Which would have been fine if he was a 5 year old from my elementary school. He wasn't. He was a 15 year old teenager soon to graduate into High School.

Safe to say it was time for it to go. I shaved my beard, and with it went my 3rd grade students. I doubt you'll ever read this, but good luck. And don't pet the teachers in high school.

-

*oishii (delicious) is probably the most commonly used Japanese word and as such is very important to master. Japanese people are incredible hype-men. Everything is delicious. No matter if it isn't. If there is food present, so is this word. If you wanna go a little casual you can say umai (good) instead. Here in Joetsu everyone has the awesome habit of adding baka (crazy) to everything, so those of us who are down with the kids say baka umai (crazy good). Don't use it in Tokyo though unless you want people looking at you weird.

**Australian for snow

***Japanese ski places like to blast out-of-date pop tunes at you from the chairlifts while you snowboard. Just in case you didn't have enough stimulation throwing yourself down a mountain at break neck speeds.

****Not the dwarf they made look like a small attractive human to wedge in a contrived love story. The ugly one there purely for comedic effect.

Drinking Your Way Into Japanese Culture

Hisashiburi. It's been over half a year. I guess I just kinda forgot I had a blog. And it probably would have stayed that way too, except a tall, handsome, southern gent from the states asked me to write a piece for the AJET Connect magazine. If you haven't heard of it, I don't blame you - It's basically an online publication for people just like me, written by people just like me: JET program English Teachers.

So over Christmas I sharpened my favorite pencil, took out a fresh new pad of paper, then put them away. No one writes on paper anymore. So clunky. On my laptop I can edit again and again and again and again... days of fun.

I eventually got round to submitting the article. After a wrestling match with the Connect editor, we reached a version that is suitable for the general public. It may be in an obscure online magazine for Assistant Language Teachers in Japan, but I've been published, and I'm counting it.

My friend Ashuu-Chan did the layout for it, making me look far more professional than I deserve. It's on page 20 Please go and take a look, if only to see her artwork.

Below is the article converted to blog form (minus most of the editor's edits). I had so much fun putting it together that I'm gonna try and write one a month for the rest of the year. The first is only 2 days past the deadline. Clearly a good omen.

Drinking your way into Japanese Culture

Last month at the end-of-year work party, I had one of those glorious moments of belonging that make the whole Japan adventure worthwhile. The food is all but finished. Everyone is beginning to get those tell-tale pink cheeks. I can see a glint in the school Principal's eyes. Kocho-Sensei is clearly gearing himself up to leap across the cultural gap.

K: Licha-do sensei... Can you drink Japanese sake?

Classic. Why don't you ask me about sashimi and natto, too? Maybe  even finish off by complimenting my chopstick skills.

R: Of course! I love nihonshu. I went to Sake no Jin last year.

The magic words. It's as if I've gained a whole new dimension that Kocho-Sensei is seeing for the first time. But, maybe it's a trick. He has to make sure.

K: Really...? What do you like?

I don't wanna come across too keen. "Licha-do sensei, the alcoholic" is hardly the tag I want, but this is a chance to change Kocho-Sensei's perspective on foreign folk forever. I might actually manage to fit in.

R: Recently, I've been drinking Katafune (a local brewery which just won an award), but my real favorite is Nigorizake. Do you know Bishamon?

Kocho-Sensei only just catches his surprise before his eyes pop out, then breaks into the biggest cheeky grin I've ever seen this steely man pull.

K: So, you'll drink some with me tonight, right? What's your recommendation?

He hands me a list of incomprehensible names, all in kanji.

R: Ah... chotto... I can't read...

So close. So very close. Next time.

Nomyu-nication

The longer you stay in Japan, the more you want to prove you aren't the typical Naruto fan foreigner, trying to buy a samurai sword, before going home to brag about your unique experiences in glorious sunrise land. Not that there's anything wrong with anime and history. Its just I don't want to be put into a little gaijin-shaped-box like that. After you've been here for two or three years, it becomes a compulsion. We long time sufferers desperately try to break expectations so that people engage with us, not as gaijin, but as real flesh and blood human beings.

If you're looking to be taken seriously in Japan, my first recommendation is to become fluent in Japanese. How enlightening. Almost like saying "All you need to do to become a pro footballer... is kick the football like a pro." And after studying for 10 years or more, you'll still slip up. It's almost enough to drive you to drinking.

Which is where my second recommendation comes in. Why drink thin, tasteless Asahi* when you can sample the real pinnacle of Japanese drinking culture: sake, otherwise known as nihonshu. For most, it's something you regret drinking with the sociology teacher at the nijikai, right before you butcher "Hey Jude" on the karaoke box. However, sake can, and should, be so much more. It's a chance to connect cultures without the social barriers that soberness creates. So much so that the concept has  entered many Japanese dictionaries:  ノミュニケーション (nomyu-nication).

Shameless Event Plugging 101

Now at this point in the Connect article, I go into advertisement mode and start gushing about how great Niigata's huge two day sake-tasting festival is. If you like the sound of that, and happen to live in Japan please check out the details. In fact, ill put the ending of the article as a footnote. For everyone else, don't read it. I totally sold out. It wasn't even subtle.**

The Day After the Enkai

Everyone in Japan sings the praises of nomyunication. And its true. Drinking parties are an incredible chance to break down social awkwardness and professional pretenses. A chance to actually get to know your enigmatic co-workers. A chance to actually talk like normal people about normal people things. Turns out the secretary at my main school is married with 3 kids. Found that out a month ago after 2 years of knowing her. Who knew.

Next day it's back to work. I look deep into my coworkers' eyes for a glimmer of the warm closeness I felt the night before. But I look in vain. The maths teacher will never bring up those super cool Japanese rock bands we spoke about together. Kocho-Sensei will never mention the 4 flasks of sake we shared. The secretary may as well not have a family. Its as if I dreamed the whole thing. They all follow the unspoken rule: What happens at enkai stays at enkai.***

Until finally on the way to class after lunch, the only young English teacher turns to me, and almost in a whisper says,

"Licha-do sensei... I heard that you can drink nihonshu."

A small smile creeps into the corner of his mouth. He knows what he's doing. Breaking the number one rule of enaki. But he doesn't care. Because we are more than co-workers. We are kinda-sorta friends. Everything is gonna be fine. His smile is contagious. I think I'm finally starting to fit in.

-

* This is of course all hyperbole. I actually do love Japanese Lager, as is obvious from the rotund beer belly Ive been carrying around recently.

 **"The Rest of the Article

I am of course extremely biased. I live in Niigata, which is famous for being an utterly boring prefecture full of rice fields.  We use that rice to make over 65% of Japan's nihonshu. As a result, there's a huge sake culture here. Living in Niigata, you quickly realize that nihonshu is the craft beer of Japan. Every city has its own local specialty. The variety is endless.

If you wanna become fluent in nomyu-nication but don't know where to start, look no further. Niigata's Sake no Jin (にいがた酒の陣) is being held this year on the 11th and 12th of March. If sake is the craft beer of Japan, then going to Sake no Jin is like hitting up Munich during Oktoberfest. 90 local breweries offer more than 500 different varieties to make it the biggest Japanese rice wine tasting event of the year. In exchange for your 2000-3000 yen entry fee, they arm you with a sake cup, and send you out into the stalls to try whatever you like the look of. I've gone every year since coming to Japan, and every year I leave with a new favorite.

Due to its fierce popularity, Sake no Jin has been designated this year's official Niigata AJET block event. We're grabbing a ryokan (complete with an onsen) for people who'd like to spend the night, and buses will be arranged to and from the event. If you're interested in joining us, you can RSVP here. There's loads more information on the AJET Block 2 Facebook group, or at Sake no Jin's website.

Richard is from Grimsby, U.K. and now lives in Joetsu, Niigata. He doesn’t drink as heavily as this article implies."

*** enkai  is usually translated to work party, although sometimes used for sports team drinking parties etc.

The Japanese Spirit of Gaman - Suffering in Silence

Two years ago I was young and full of hope. I had big plans for my life. Go to Japan and learn Japanese. See everything there is to see. Then write it all down and post once a month. Whats so hard about that? One measly post a month. Easy.

I am now 25, which is closer to 50 than my own birth. Basically an old man. And old people like me know the horrible truth - If you don't make time for them, life crowds in and steals your dreams.

I've been telling myself "I just need some free time to sit down and write", but there is always something that needs doing first. I have to go to this "job" thing, and by the time I get home my laundry basket has mysteriously filled itself up again. If I manage to get all of the chores done, there's still Japanese to study, video games to play, and beer to drink. Right at the back of my priority list, after all that super boring everyday stuff, are my big plans, slowly collecting dust.

This week I've finally put some time aside, picked a topic, and written a thing. Here it is.

Everything is Hunky-Dory

A key to understanding the Japanese is recognising their almost joyful acceptance of suffering. Japanese teachers stay at school until 10pm most nights because they cant be seen to leave before their superiors. The kids have club activities till 7. Then on top of their mountainous load of homework, they go to cram school because high school entrance exams are coming up. No one complains though. Everybody is struggling, everybody is working hard. Strap on your big boy pants and suck it up.

This attitude is encapsulated by the japanese word gaman - which is difficult to translate, but basically means "persevering silently in the face of adversity". When I speak to Japanese friends they don't want to talk about their long work hours, or how little sleep they've been getting. In fact they rarely want to talk about work at all. Everybody is struggling, everybody is working hard. They much prefer spending their few hours of free time pretending everything is hunky-dory. So we talk about how delicious the food we are eating is, or how beautiful the mountains look this time of year. Oishii ne! Kirei ne!*

When I try to complain about anything, it's just the same. I can tell they are tempted to join me. Tempted to let years and years of pent up frustration out. Instead they put on their best empathetic smile and sweetly utter the national mantra of gaman.

Ganbatte ne! - Do your best!

The Sado Long Ride

Back at the start of spring, I was polishing off a 3rd flask of sake while talking to my favorite Japanese person. We'll call him Kisu-San because even though he's a happily married man with a baby on the way, he regularly tries to kiss me on the cheek while drunk. Kisu-San is insistent that I join him on a 100km "fun" bike race on Sado island. I'm a little tipsy so I foolishly agree, despite the hibernation belly I'd been nurturing all winter.

Jump forward 3 months. The weekend of the Sado Long Ride rolls around and I am nowhere near ready. It becomes quickly apparent that Kisu-San has told some gigantic white lies. The 100km is really 130km, and we are staying in a hotel 30km away from the start line, bringing the grand total up to 160km. Then we get to the start line and I begin to realise how completely out of my depth I am. This is not a fun ride along the coast. Everyone has all the kit. Fancy bikes, jerseys, clip in pedals, aerodynamic helmets, the whole lot. Meanwhile here I am in trainers and a football top, with a bike I bought for 80 quid 3rd hand. Perfect.

Safe to say I did not gaman at all.  The British were once known for their stiff upper lip but those days are long gone. We have since taken up the national pastime of moaning loudly about everything. I am unable to do my persevering silently. It's just not how I was brought up. I complained non-stop to anyone who would listen. Mostly at Kisu-San

He however did not sink to my level. Instead Kisu-San put on his best empathetic smile and raised the battle cry of gaman.

Ganbatte ne! - Do your best!

In the end it was a really satisfying day. Being part of a thousand odd people all ganbatte-ing up and down the mountainous coast line really gave you that "we're all in this together" feel. There were young children with their fathers, and old age pensioners alike - all fighting against the odds. Conquering the land one kilometer at a time. The true spirit of gaman. I almost started enjoying the suffering, like a real Japanese person would.

That is until I remembered we all chose to do this voluntarily. And I could just as easily have been at home drinking beer and playing video games. It almost made doing laundry look attractive too.

Japanese Torture Techniques

The race was on Sunday and I was back to work on Monday. After 4 morning lessons I'm barely conscious at my desk, waiting for the angel of death to finally take me. Which is when things go from bad to baddest. The English teacher that supervises me wanders over with a worried look on her face.

"Er... Richard Sensei... I forgot to tell you something...Tomorrow is the Super Challenge Walk. I want you to walk with the first years. They are very excited to walk with you... Richard sensei... why.. why are you crying? "

Pefect. Just perfect. Last year we went on a relaxing little wander around the local area and solved puzzles at various locations. But clearly we had been going too soft on the 12 year olds in our care. Some of them had started to have fun and we couldn't have that. This year the school removed all enjoyable aspects by making the kids march a 38km course through the mountains. Which is basically torture.

For the first 20km it is chucking it down with rain. No one wants to be there. The first year students are really slow and beginning to look like drowned rats.  We get the news that the track and field long distance runners have already finished. Eventually the sun comes out and we settle down for lunch.

The next 18km takes us double the time the first half did, despite most of it being down hill. There isn't one kid in the whole group that isn't limping (I had been limping right from the start line.) Still no one is complaining, because the Japanese love suffering silently and at least it had stopped raining.

4km from the finish line disaster strikes. I've been stumbling along with the same group of first year guys since the beginning. One of the gang moans that he could really use the toilet. The Japanese don't complain so it must be serious. A clear sign that he is absolutely bursting.

Except my teacher brain doesn't kick in at all and I have completely forgotten about the spirit of gaman. I am such an idiot. I even make a joke that anywhere is a toilet if you try hard enough.

A few minutes later I notice the kid is missing. I run back round the corner to find him on the floor bawling his eyes out, desperately trying to take his tracksuit bottoms off. He's wet himself and its all my fault. How could I have missed such an obvious sign? How am I going to make this OK?

I Hate Long Distance Endurance Events

Thankfully out of nowhere a P.E. teacher comes sprinting down the road to save the day. Sensei pulls a pair of spare shorts out of his bag, puts on his best empathetic smile and says the magic words

Ganbatte ne! - Do your best!

Another teacher pulls up in a truck and offers the poor kid a lift. He declines. Even at a young age the Japanese have been brainwashed into a joyful acceptance of suffering. With something resembling a smile, the kid dries his eyes, puts on the fresh shorts, and hobbles onward to the finish line.

The moral of the story I guess is that the Japanese are crazy, and I hate long distance endurance events.

-

* I was looking up how to spell hunky-dory, and it interestingly enough traces full circle back to the some of the early foreigners in Japan. Honcho-dori is Japanese for "main road". US sailors from the 1860s then combined it with "hunky" meaning "fit and healthy". Possibly it was used to suggest everything in life is going great (i.e. "easy street"), but knowing sailors it was more likely a reference to the massage parlors in the backstreets of Yokohama. I should also mention I know absolutely zero sailors.

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.