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.

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.

-

*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.

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.

-

* 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.

Peaks and Troughs on the Sea of Homesickness

At the start of the month I came back from a holiday in Malaysia. As much as I enjoyed going away to see my family, I was pleasantly surprised how good it felt returning to Joetsu. Before I left I'd been getting a little tired of the endless process of adapting to a new culture. Its fun and exciting to be greeted everyday by new challenges - today I had Shark for lunch, and yesterday I got in a snowball fight with 8 year olds while trying to leave school. However sometimes it gets a bit exhausting trying to fit in. Like cleaning time* at school, where my internal monologue runs something like this:

"Who is in charge here? And what is this useless cleaning utensil consisting entirely of a torn up silk handkerchief tied to the end of a stick? Maybe if I just hit things with it with purpose, no one will notice I've got no idea what's going on. Why cant I have a brush like everyone else?"

Or the eternal quandary of the ex-pat: Is everyone staring at me because I'm foreign and scary, or because I'm doing it wrong? Most of the time the answer is both.

The Peaks

Getting out of the day to day for a while makes you not only appreciate how much this new way of life has grown on you, but also how much you've changed in the process of adapting to it. From my time in Malaysia I discerned the following: My sister now knows the terms "Naru Hodo" (I see/understand) and "Daijobu" (no worries) because I say them instinctively without thinking now. I bumped into an American tourist, and rather than say "Oh, sorry", "Ah, sumimasen" escaped my lips, before I bowed and shuffled on my way. Sometimes I wear a mask when I've got a cough. Bile rises to my throat when I see rubbish in public places. I feel hungry if I haven't eaten rice that day. I wave at children I don't know. Seeing foreigners makes me feel nervous because they are scary and generally doing it wrong. Live in Japan long enough and it can't help but rub off on you.

The effect of the trip away can be summarized in the sage words of a wise, not so old, woman**: a place doesn't quite feel like home until you come back to it. And Joetsu was there waiting for me with open arms. Returning felt less like bracing myself for the rest of a cold and unforgiving winter, and more like sliding into a warm bath after a day of snowboarding. Which is excellent by the way. Even better if you do it with your friends and 20 Japanese people that you don't know. And then of course there is warm sake, watching Cowboy Bebop, Katsu-don, Karaoke and occasionally even teaching. I really have no right to complain.

The Troughs

Sometimes though (for lack of a better word) Homesickness strikes. You're loving the challenge, the culture, even the weird Gaijin you have to hang out with now, when suddenly something hits you out of the blue. An invite to a party you obviously cant travel 5,713 miles to go to reminds you of all your friends back home who are getting along with new things, building new memories together, still in relationship, still in a place they know and feel comfortable. I-tunes shuffle sticks on "Bridge over troubled water" and suddenly you're tearing up in the car and you don't know why. You miss your cue and mess up a Japanese conversation you thought you'd mastered. You see Britain mentioned in the news, or hear a song you don't know, and realise there's gonna be 2 years of shared pop culture references you will never quite understand.

And its not specifically sick for home in the sense that you want to go back to Britain right now, or even "I miss roast dinner and normal pizza". It isn't missing things or a place. I'm an adult (supposedly), so I can go without chocolate orange for a year. Its more like you miss the feeling of fitting in easily, almost subconsciously, without having to try. I used to know how to shop and talk and interact like people do. I swear I remember a time when I was normal.

Sometimes in Japan it can be difficult to feel comfortable in your own skin. No matter how hard you try, you aren't gonna do it right.

What gives homesickness it's bite is the possibility that the "home" you are missing is no longer there when you get back.*** And when you get there you can't fit back in. And everyone is staring at you because your foreign, scary, and doing it wrong.

Peaks > Troughs

It should of course be noted that 99% of the time I feel more like the first half of this post than the melancholy (and slightly melodramatic) second half. I really should have swapped the sections and ended on a happy note. Yes, I stick out like a sore thumb, but to be honest its kind of nice being special by default. I'm instantly more interesting than I've ever been before just by being me. All I have to say is "I like shishamo" or "We have chopsticks in the UK you know?" and minds are blown. In a small Japanese rice-growing inaka town called Itakura, I'm a famous celebrity and everyone knows me. For being that weird scary Gaijin that is doing it wrong, but a celebrity none the less.

-

* In Japan, there is a grounds keeper, but no cleaning staff. It is the responsibility of the students to clean the school everyday. In theory this is an amazing example of how fundamental community and working together are to Japanese culture. In reality the students perfect the art of doing nothing while looking busy, and everything is dirty.

**My mother...

*** Which is why I think "homesick" is the wrong word. A better one is maybe the Portuguese word Saudade, which has no direct translation but roughly means a deep nostalgia or longing for something or someone that may never return. Or for the Philosophy buffs among you, Heidegger's moments of Angst where one no longer feels like he belongs to the world he finds around him.

The Tori and the Tamago

Recently I ran into a dilemma that hasn't been faced by the British public since 1948. For about a week I hadn't been able to hear out of my right ear. I assumed mother nature would do her thing and unblock it without  too much human intervention, but I was beginning to lose hope. Usually I would have rang up the local Doctors and gotten an appointment, but even the easiest task becomes 5 times more complicated when you throw the Japanese language into the mix. I don't even know if GP's are a thing here, and more importantly the NHS isn't here to pick up the check. With pay day just out of arms reach, I had to decide which was more important: beer money or hearing.

The Last Sentence is a Joke About Blocked Ears

After making a quick pros and cons list, I realised I could put this off no longer.  The deafness had evolved from a blockage to a dull ache and constant ringing noise, both of which are dangerously close to the symptoms of an ear infection. My students as always were doing their best to avoid speaking English, but even when they did I couldn't hear them. On the flip side I had mastered the phrase "mou ichido, kudasai" (Once more, please), although saying it 50 odd times a day was getting a little tiring. Every cloud has a silver lining, but that doesn't mean it's gonna stop raining. Sometimes you've got to face the facts, grab an umbrella, and stop stretching metaphors.

I swallowed my pride and came clean. There is no subtle way to communicate with people who do not share the same language as you. I tried to tell the teacher next to me in the staff room, but it suddenly became a group exercise of "Guess What the Silly Gaijin Wants." After much pointing, a quick game of charades, and consultation with the not so trusty Google translate, I managed to explain the problem to the gathered crowd. People cheered. Kyōtō and Kōchō-Sensei high fived. "Naru hodo" echoed round the room. At least I think that's what they said.

Let's Listen!

I am now learning a whole new language for the first time. Being able to say "J'adore la bibliothèque" after 5 years of French at school does not count. Considering there are 3 different alphabets, I thought the difficult part would be writing and reading. However I'm 66% of the way there already. With two done in four months, I should have Kanji down by Christmas.

What has proved difficult (and last week impossible) is listening to Japanese. It isn't until you leave your mother tongue that you realise how fast native speakers talk. And how little they separate out words. I was going to complain about the speed of the Japanese language, but realised its true of all languages and their native speakers. Time is money, and the faster we can communicate what we want to say, the better we are doing it. In theory.

It's also something I find fairly difficult to study. I've downloaded all the NHK's free podcasts (which you can find here) and been listening to them in the car. It hasn't really worked though. Other than the giggle every time the host Michelle Yamamoto says "program", I keep realising half way through that I haven't been paying attention and I've got no idea what government propaganda has been playing for the past 10 minutes. I have a sneaking suspicion that without actually taking part in one to one conversations with Japanese speakers, my listening wont get any better. Except my Japanese isn't good enough to have a one to one conversation. What came first, the tori or the tamago?

Now I have gained a little empathy for the plight of my students, I have been trying to speak as clearly and slowly as possible while still sounding relatively natural. I'm never quite sure what speed to speak to teachers though. There is a fine line between considerate and condescending.

Otololaryngogology

Back to the cheering Elementary school teachers. The school nurse took the reigns and set me up with a doctors appointment that very afternoon at an ear, throat and nose specialist. Which is a thing that exists  apparently - an Otolaryngologist. I tried to teach it to my kids but they told me I kept pronouncing it wrong.

Considering the only form of communication I had with the Otolaryngologist doctor was a questionnaire with questionable English translations,* everything went smoothly. On top of being able to hear again, it only cost as much as a trip to Mac Donald's. Plenty of money left for beer: an all-round victory for international relations.

Things are great now. It was like the first day with a new pair of glasses, but for my ears.** I'd forgotten what it was like to hear things clearly. The students still refuse to speak, but at least now I can hear the wind rustle through the trees after I ask a question in class.

-

* One of the options was "Ear exploded". If that had happened, I wouldn't have waited a week to sort it out. Hopefully.

** No, I did not have to get a hearing aid.

Leave it to Richard Teacher

Yesterday began like any other day at elementary school. I was inevitably 5 minutes late, stuck at a red light, and desperately wishing I knew what I was supposed to be teaching in a matter of minutes. I was especially anxious, as the night before I received the most cryptic email from a teacher to date (although I have a sneaking suspicion that if you put the email into google translate you get perfect Japanese out the other side):

"I'm sorry Richard teacher, reply becomes slow.
 Game of grade 3 and 4, and then leave it to Richard teacher. 3 grade, thank you to the center (at the school card) how to pronounce the game and story, of the alphabet about the culture of Halloween. When the time left over, I will or "Mission Game", the "Alphabet Song". In fifth grade, in charge has changed. It is Miss. M

Thank you
Miss. T"

The Culture of Halloween

I`m not complaining. I truly do appreciate being somewhat kept in the loop. It shows how hard the elementary school teachers try to communicate with us. They could have sent an email in Japanese, or no email at all. Ill take what I can get. My favourite bit is "thank you to the center." The Japanese can be so unintentionally earnest in their phrasing. I'm gonna start using that all the time.

Turns out that the usual fifth grade teacher was ill. Miss. M is a brand new support teacher that doesn't speak any English or particularly know the children in the class. So what the email translates to in practice is,

"Please teach the whole of the first three lessons on Halloween, countries, and the alphabet. You will do this alone with minimal aid. Thanks a bunch."

The panic sets in. I try to remember my training. I remember I've had no training. I look for resources. There are predictably only flashcards. That's OK, there`s only ever flashcards. I chug a cup of coffee. What is Halloween about anyway? And why do we dress up as spooky things? Is it to scare away ghosts? Surely ghosts like spooky things. If we really want to scare them we should dress as comforting things like duvets or the smell of freshly cut grass. Suddenly I hear a small child`s voice at the door of the teacher`s room. "Lichaado Sensei....Eigo.."

It's time.

Teaching Japanese Elementary School Children

This is not an isolated event. Before I came to Japan I imagined teaching would be about planing lessons, making worksheets, keeping organised, and well... remembering how to speak English. While this is partly true of Junior High School, Elementary school is a whole different ball game.

The main stumbling block is there are only a few teachers in each school that talk enough English to even let me know what's going on. Not that it's their fault. Most of the staff became teachers before English was on the Elementary School curriculum, so they are having to teach a class they`ve never had training for. Just like me. Add to that some foreign guy who can only say "Ohayo gozaimasu", "Wakarimasen", and "Toire wa doko desu ka?", and you`ve got a real party.

                                          A general morning conversation:

Lichaado-Sensei: "Ohayo gozaimasu"

(the morning greeting that literally means... it is early. Very efficient. Very Japanese)

JTE: "Ohayo gozaimasu, '&#%!)#$="!#'"&!%$=...etc"

(Some apparently random collection of Japanese syllables.)

Lichaado-Sensei: "Gomennasai, Wakarimasen."
(Sorry, I for some reason thought it wouldn't be an issue coming to japan with next to no Japanese)

JTE: "Colar gaamu preasu."
(Please teach a 45 minute class on colours. Thanks a bunch)

Winning at Japan

The Japanese 8 year olds and I still have no idea what Halloween is actually about, but they had fun pretending to be ghosts, witches, and Frankenstein. The lessons went well in the end, in large part because the senpai ALTs are kind enough to share their wealth of experience. Thank you to the center.

Turns out teaching in Elementary schools is about three  things: have a bunch of flashcard games, give simple graduated explanations, and smile till your face falls off. You have to be careful playing games with definite winners and losers. It all gets a bit too much for some of the kids, who tend to break down into tears. Which is strange, because I don`t remember crying at all at school. Guess I must have ALWAYS BEEN A WINNER.

One Month in – Genki Kids and Onsens

The pedantic among you will have noticed that I have been in Japan for more than a month. Well I originally planned to blog more things at the start of September (or as the ever-efficient Japanese call it - month nine), but between drinking on the weekends and entertaining genki kids during the week, the blogging kind of slipped through the cracks. 

To be honest though, I think you have to cut me a little slack. I sleep on the floor, all my clothes come out of the washing machine drenched, and I have only just realised that my hob will never get hot no matter how long I wait unless I put a pan on top of it. The simple everyday tasks of going to the supermarket or ordering at a restaurant have suddenly become impromptu games of roulette. I haven’t paid my bills yet because I don’t know how. I'm doing my best.

There is of course the unavoidable fact that I am extremely lazy and forgetful. Today I had one first period lesson, leaving the rest of the day to stare at a computer screen pretending to do work. I mean seriously, it does not take long to plan a lesson for six year olds. After reading every news article on the BBC website and compulsively checking the Scottish independence referendum results, I have realised I can procrastinate no longer. I have loads to blog about and plenty of time to do the blogging.

So before you all start thinking "Oh typical Soonton-Sensei, so predictable", "he never keeps up with anything", "I knew the blog wouldn't last", etc. or you forget about me completely, here is an update on my life in Japan one month-ish in.

Small Victories

Moving to Japan has been unlike any other movement I've made up to this point. Moving to University in Durham involved finding places just like the ones in my home-town, just closer. You ask "Where is a good pub?" and someone can point you in the right direction. Or even better, you see a sign which looks like a pub sign, or a name like "The Rose and Crown" and know instantly what you’re getting. Moving to the US, someone may have to explain to you, "Nah brah, we don’t have pubs, we like totally get wasted in bars" before you can find a drinking establishment, but at least they speak a form of English. Here I am not only illiterate and mute, I also have no idea which cultural cues indicate somewhere as a place to drink the pints. Sometimes by chance I manage to find an Izakaya. I can’t read the menu, so I mumble something like,

 "Nama biiru kudasi"

which elicits a condescending

 "Sugoi! You’re Japanese is so good! Jouzu!"

As if I have just pulled a bunny rabbit out of a hat. Then something hardly larger than a half pint is slid my way while they wait patiently for me to order some edamame or other bar snacks. Silly Gaijin, you can’t drink without eating! Barbarians!

Finding the pub is just one step in the exhausting process of forgetting all my old cultural norms and learning new ones. When someone asks you to be "on time" they mean 10-15 minutes early. It is polite to ignore people when they sneeze: pointing it out draws attention to their weakness or something. Bring a hand towel around with you, because there is nothing to dry your hands with in the bathroom. There are a million and one of these maxims to live by, and no one can tell you them all. You just have to gaman your way through it. 

As there is an extra layer of social ineptitude added to the difficulties of daily life, one must take refuge in small victories while living abroad. This week I managed to buy a fan and a vacuum. To most this is nothing, but finding out where they are sold, working out why one is triple the price of the other, and navigating the interaction with the cashier really makes me feel like I've done something with my day. Dream big.

Kocho-Sensei's Penis

I don't know if it is my new-found social ineptitude or if the Japanese just aren't telling me things, but I never seem to know what is going on. Life here has a habit of hiding little surprises round every corner. Each day is its own little adventure, but there were a few moments that really caught me off guard.

One week in I looked up from my desk to find the teachers room completely deserted. A small Japanese child came in to ask for.... something. I flexed my Nihongo muscles and said in broken Japanese "sorry... where are teachers?" He either did not know or more likely I was not saying what I thought I was. We stared at each other for an awkwardly long amount of time, neither able to cross the linguistic gap between us, before he eventually ran away. Turns out there was a staff meeting and no one thought to invite me. For two hours. Afterwards the Japanese English teacher who looks after me said she would pass on anything I needed to know. There was nothing to pass on.

Then of course there was Japanese sports day. In England sports day is just another day, except you wear your P.E. kit all day. People run, get heat stroke, then go home. In Japan they prepare throughout their summer holidays, coming into school to make banners, learn cheers, and practice events. 

The "cheers" are 8 minute choreographed routines created completely by the students - which doesn't seem impressive until you see four 3rd years trying to teach over 100 students the words and moves that they made up. Unfortunately Segun (Blue team) who I was cheering for lost, but they came closer to winning than they have in about four years. For my unwavering support, the students threw me up in the air and cheered. I have never felt so fulfilled. I think next year is our year.

Things didn't really get strange till afterwards. In Japan there are work parties called "Enkai" which are only slightly less than mandatory. Like most nights out I have had in Japan it was Nomihoudai, which basically means "all-you-can-drink" within a certain time limit. Honestly, this system would not work in the UK because people would abuse it, but here it is the cheapest way to drink. Want sake? Sure. More beer? Let me bring you three. Sounds all good so far - except the enkai was at the local onsen.

For those of you who don’t know, onsens are basically public baths built on natural hot springs. Not only was it my first time in an onsen, I was also not informed that the onsen was an optional segment of the enkai. The result was me, the principle, and the grounds keeper trying to make small talk about the fishing industry naked with very little common language. Thank god I’m half blind without my glasses - although I still caught Kocho-sensei taking a peek. It was far less awkward than I expected.

Bros

Afterwards the principle and I shared a bottle of sake at the nomihoudai and talked the night away. I worried that maybe it was only the alcohol, and when we went back to school he would almost certainly resume his role as the distant authoritarian figure. However I caught his eye over Tuesdays morning’s assembly and I swear I saw a small smirk. I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

I can’t speak or read Japanese, I have no idea how to teach elementary school children, and sometimes I eat in restaurants alone because supermarket shopping in Japan overwhelms me too much. But for all the moaning that I have done here, which could basically be summarised as "culture shock - its real", not all the little surprises are bad. Turns out the Japanese English teachers are mostly very supportive, the other Gaijin love to drink too, and there are places I can drink my fill for £12 - as long as I can drink it in under two hours. What’s not to love?

When Friends Eat Together God Smiles

It’s taken a while but things have started happening again, which is convenient because I’d run out of things to write about. I go to Japan in less than a month now. When I applied about eight months ago it was a kind of abstract “how cool would it be to live in Japan?”, but now it’s getting closer I am at some point going to have to come to terms with the fact that this really is going to happen. The problem is I can’t particularly imagine myself in this foreign place full of foreign things going about my life as normal.

How Low is Too Low?- a beginners guide to bowing


Help is on the way! This week I go down to London for my pre-departure orientation. Two days training and then I’m supposedly ready to be unleashed on a classroom of children who can’t understand what I’m saying. The itinerary looks to have a singular one hour workshop on how to teach, a whole bunch of introductions from people we will never hear from again, and a short course on how to avoid insulting Japanese people by putting your hands in your pockets. I'm pumped. To be honest though I'm more looking forward to meeting all the other ALTs in exactly the same situation as me. Charging into the unknown is fun as long as there is a bunch of you doing it. Otherwise it’s just me sat in a flat trying to get the wi-fi to work with nothing to help me but a manual in Japanese. This may still happen, but at least now it will become a witty anecdote I can tell my ALT friends at the local sake bar. Which is presumably a thing.

"I am in trouble now"

I have also received more news on both the housing situation and the schools I will be working at. I received a hilarious if not slightly worrying email from my supervisor on the Japan side in broken english which contained the line “I am in trouble now.” Turns out my predecessors building is being destroyed and they don't know where to put me. I have been given the option of either living in a private apartment in Joetsu City or living in Yasuzuka – a very small village that gets heavy snow in the winter, and is 45 minutes away from anything of note. I’m all for immersion, but have chickened out and taken the swanky bachelor pad in the slightly bigger city.

As for schools, I am based at Itakura Junior High School (12-15 year olds) as well as visits to four elementary schools (6-12 year olds) and another junior high School. I am tentative about the elementary schools, especially as I haven’t spoken to anyone under the age of 15 in about 5 years. I tried to do some scouting of Itakura JHS, but all I managed to find was this website that I can't read,

http://www.itakura-j.jorne.ed.jp/

and this Google maps image of children outside the school. I think they are running because they love their school and their teachers and are well behaved and love to learn English. Everything is going to be fine.

Fish Egg Curry

On a side note, I have finished my volunteering. A strange part of teaching I had never thought about before is getting to know and befriend students who you are never going to meet again a term later. After my final lesson, my favourite Bangladeshi man invited me round for lunch – which turned out to be a banquet for one including a satkora curry, a fish egg curry, lentil soup, spicy side salad and all the rice I could eat. I had no option but to have seconds of everything. I then had to find a hole for two different desserts. The wife was very pleased with herself. To top it all off at the end of the meal he said something adorable like “In my religion, when friends eat together God smiles”. Stomach bulging, tears barely contained, we shook hands for the final time and hugged like men. His wife looked on disapprovingly.

Going to Japan

So I've found out where I have been placed in Japan, which has made the whole "teaching English abroad" thing seem very real and scary. I've decided to write a blog because that's what people do when they go abroad, and maybe it will calm me down a little. A Little introduction: I'm from Grimsby, and I am going on the JET programme to teach English. They have placed me in Joetsu City.

Why I Was Freaking Out

a) The Wikipedia page for Joetsu City is worryingly sparse. Even Grimsby (which deserves its grim title) has a larger one. All I can gather is that Uesugi Kenshin was based there in the 1500's. People used to think that he was a reincarnation of the Buddhist god of war Bishamonten, so at least there is some good news.

b) The population density is 211.15 people per km². To put that in perspective, there are 828 people per km² in North East Lincolnshire. So although there are 205,521 people there, its all very spread out. It doesn't sound like the monstrous blade-runner-esque cities I had always assumed Japan was made up of. 

c) I've read a lot of blogs recently about living in Japan, and all of them agree on one thing. I am and always will be treated as a foreigner who cant speak Japanese, eat with chopsticks, or order food for themselves. Just because two of these things happen to be completely true doesn't mean I'm looking forward to always being 'White Richard from England'. However this is just the tip of a much larger iceberg. I worry I am going to be extremely lonely. In a miniature room. A miniature but extremely messy room.

Why I Calmed Down

I don't want this to all be doom and gloom - there's plenty of time for that later. Although I am a little nervous about the whole thing, I am also extremely excited.

a) England sometimes gets a bit cold and sometimes gets a bit hot, but on the whole there are few places in the world that are so temperate. Japan is not like that. Summer is so hot you have to bring a towel with you to wipe your face, winter is so cold that it wont be weird if I wear a woolly hat everywhere, and spring is full of cherry blossoms. I'm not sure about Autumn. In summary, I'm really looking forward to a climate that isn't grey with a chance of light rainfall 90% of the time. My main worry right now is whether there truly is such a thing as a cool ski jacket. I have yet to see one.

b) The extreme seasons are complemented by a beach for the summer and mountains (with lots and lots of snowboarding!) for the winter. I cannot ask for more. As long as I am not alone doing these things. No where is more depressing than a beach if you are on your bill, and Snowboarding alone would probably lead to me being found frozen to death weeks later  because I took a wrong turn.

c) Something like 100 JET participants are placed in the Niigata prefecture, so at least we can all be alone together. Of that 100 over 50 will be from the US, but I'll take what I can get.