So long and thanks for all the fish

After I left Hamada I bounced around Japan for the better part of a month. I went to Lena's in Yakami, Janelle's in Yonago, Marie's in Matsue, back to Lena's, Leah's in Hamada (sans Leah), Maddy's in Matsue, Steph's and Setsuko's out on Oki, Karla's in Yakami, a wee hotel in Osaka, Damian and Kaori's in Choshi and lastly at the house of their lovely Obachan in Asahi. It was quite the trip. I got back to NZ thoroughly exhausted and spent a couple of days with the extended family in Auckland and then got down to Wellington and...

I've been back in New Zealand for over a week now but have yet to re-enter life here properly. I've spent a week holed up in my parents house being sick and doing absolutely nothing. This will end today, but before I start life here I'd just like to say how much I am missing Japan.

I am missing Japan, and I think I will keep missing Japan even once my time there starts seeming like a dream, or a movie I used to watch too often. Right now I am missing the food - Japanese food was good to me and I wish I had paid more attention when Setsuko cooked or when Yoshida guided me through tricky techniques or when Funada and I gossiped and made sweets. I am missing my wee house and knowing exactly how everything around me fits together (I am prepared to accept I went a little strange living by myself, but I am honestly finding this big house and its having other occupants rather odd). I am missing the community that I lived in, the guy at the bus stop who would shake his head sadly when I had missed the bus, the nice ladies at the supermarket who know I don't need bags. I am missing Nori. I am missing my bike and biking around all night and never feeling nervous in the dark. I am missing school and teaching. I miss my kids a lot, and I miss my office ladies (hmmm maybe I miss employment? nah). I don't miss being so noticeable but it does take some getting used to being so very ordinary. I feel invisible walking down the street here, being average height with normal proportions and normal coloured hair. So yeah. In my limbo state, before I launch myself back into life in NZ. I just wanted to say. I had an amazing time. And I miss Japan.

But more than that I am almost scared to start again here because as it is everywhere we go, whatever we are doing and for whatever reason, it is the people we meet who make life the ridiculous, rich, riotous experience that it is. And I don't want to forget all the wonderful people I have met over the past two years. I have met some pretty incredible people. On the island I met my ladies who kept me sane(ish) and well fed, and who taught me so much about being just where you are. On the mainland (both years) I met crazy gaijin friends who shared the strange and unusual trip that is Japan. And everywhere I went I met people who I danced with, drank with, laughed with, shared a moment on a train with, argued with, went crazy with... people who I will keep thinking about, people who I will lose touch with but whose memory will make me chuckle at inappropriate moments for years to come. Thanks guys.

Now to ditch the dressing gown and find a bus timetable...

Gnah. I must sleep now.

Another month...
All you really need to know is that everything has ended and it has rained.
I'll put a whole bunch of photos over on flickr to catch you up on where, what and how I have been, because I really ought to be cleaning.
But I shall tell one wee story tonight.
Yesterday was the first day that it has not rained in many, many weeks, and I was feeling a less cranky and having-a-coldy than I have been in about as many weeks, so I decided that conditions were ripe for a run. I didn't run. I decided I didn't have time and so biked my old running-course (I did of course have time for a quick run, what I really shouldn't have made time for was the cutting and sticking of many purikura, the reading of Hardy (comfort food for the brain) , the baking of two carrot cakes, one apple cake and one lemon slice (would be such as shame to see those ingredients going to waste), the watching of inter-net TV and ah... the uploading of photos. Running would have been much better for the stress/sleep thing. ) (I like brackets.)
I was thinking as I biked my old run-way, about all the last times I have been having. There have been so many conscious endings going on and because I am happy here they've all been sad. But it is all the unconscious last times that have been making me most melancholy. When I went running for the last time those week ago before the rain and the coughing started, I didn't know it was the last time. Did I look around? Did I nod to the bald quartet (two men, a woman and a dog) sitting on their door step? Did I exchange ganbarre!s with the arm-swinging old couple? I dunno. It's like after a break-up when you think about all the little things you took for granted when there is no-one there who knows to order extra condiments with the chips. A little off track. Forgive me. It is 2am.
So. I guess all I'm really saying is that I hate good-byes and all the forced memory-making. It doesn't matter what I did on my last run because running was a cumulative memory (and an oddly addictive activity for someone who has always avoided exercise on dry land (except soccer)) and it's the same with my fine friends, super students, tenacious teachers and all.
I'll be back in Wellington in less than a month now. I'll be out of my house in a day and a half... which means I have to be all packed tomorrow. Panic. Panic... sleep.
The last eight hours of merry making are starting to take their toll. It is time to sleep.

The running place

Taiko

Tubing

Primary school goodbyes

School trip to AQUAS

Chess

Hamada farewell party

Enjoy!!

JAGS has JAGSded

I really am sorry about the lack of news on this thing. Since discovering TV on the internet my life has become filled with the the inanity of re-runs and the obsessive need to watch every last episode of Scrubs, Six Feet Under and many shows of a much lower calibre. It keeps occurring to me that this is an odd way to spend my last few months in Japan, but then I choose to view it as both a necessary escape from the reality that my time here is ending and a tool of reintegration back into English speaking society.

But my time has also been more gainfully employed. For the past few months I have been involved in the planning and execution of an art exhibition called JAGS (that thing what I made the plastic tree for last year). Now that the actual exhibition has begun (it opened on Saturday) I have time to draw breath again and take stock of my situation and impending departure.

My impending departure scares me silly so instead I am going to ramble about the exhibition and post some nice photers.

Fundraising stuff for JAGS went like this:
First we baked delicious foreign treats...

...then we sold them to the curious localsThen we raised funds with an exciting rock concert
Then there was an 80's party in Matuse which I sadly couldn't go to ...Then we exhibited!
Rebecca and I took the Friday off school to get stuff set up, but the day before opening we still had only half the artwork... but thankfully almost all the JETs from Hamada and it's surrounds came to the rescue the next day and everything went swimmingly.
I don't have any photos of the opening because I was running around like a sleep-deprived headless chicken (they are the worst kind) trying to make sure everything was ready for everybody. I was interviewed by three news papers in which I tried to put a positive spin on my rather critical artwork and Nori's Mum's kagura group did an awesome performance. I will post pics when I get them.
So for the last week and a half the exhibit has been ticking along. I took some photos one grey afternoon when there was no one there and you can find those here.
I shall leave you all with a picture of my tree.
It is made of used (then cleaned) disposable chopsticks. Japan uses over half the world's disposable chopsticks and when China slapped a tax on them in an effort to curb deforestation, Japan took its business elsewhere - to Indonesia and Thailand where illegal logging is rife. And they are totally unnecessary. No restaurant I went to in Korea used them.

Der Besuch der alten Dame

I know that is a wildly inappropriate title but it was the first thing I thought of when my office-lady-friend commented "Your old-lady-friendo visit. Wow."

Yesterday morning I got an email on my phone from Yamamoto Obachan (little aunty) from Oki. It was long, detailed and in kanji. It saddened me how difficult it was to understand - when I received such mails daily my Japanese comprehension was much, much better. Anyway. I managed to get through all the bit about how she was and where she was living and how her aunt and uncle were doing and how the weather was warming up, and then I went to class without reading the last sentence 今おばちゃんは、アクアライナーで浜田に向かってます。 "Right now, I am on a train to Hamada."

And so it came about that at cleaning time, Yamamoto Obachan and three of her obachan friends came to visit me at school. Due to various untimely happenings (including Obachan having to leave the island half an hour before I arrived to visit a sick relative) I hadn't seen her since shortly after I left the Oki, so I was really touched that she still thought me worth the effort!

We stood in the corridor while she and her friends prodded me to make sure I was good and healthy and then talked about food, the weather, old times and old friends, while my students and teachers gawked and giggled. It was lovely to see Obachan, and her friends (one of whom was a ni-chu alumnus and another of whom taught one of the teachers here) have promised to look after me. It made me feel all warm and fuzzy and cared-for.

Those of you who read my rambles in my first few months in Japan will recall my adventures eating various sea creatures at Obachan's and my bafflement at evening after evening of Japanese game shows. Before I leave Japan I plan to spend a week on Oki. I am looking forward to cooking with her again and sitting in her little front room on hot summer evenings and watching still-incomprehensible Japanese TV. I am just really not looking forward to saying goodbye.

Today everything smelt wonderful.

It might just be because I am finally regaining my sense of smell after a couple of weeks of being sickly, but today everything smelt wonderful.
It was dim and grey this morning (when I got up early to call the IRD) and the whole day was cool but very humid. The morning smelt like dirt, good earthy spring time dirt. It is a smell akin to rain on hot concrete, but more... subtle. Then the wind came up off the warm sea and the kids playing soft tennis on the balconies started shrieking and everything smelt salty. Now the wind is blowing a gale and my doors are shaking and everything smells new.

Kagura and all that jazz

I went for a bike ride tonight to seek out the source of the kagura flute music that was drifting in my ranch-slider. It was the first time this year I have ventured out without a coat of any kind. The air is getting warmer and tonight it smelt like the dandelions. Actually it kinda smelt like the bitter white stuff inside dandelion stalks, but it was pleasant and spring-like nonetheless. The kagura that I found was really cool. It was at this tiny shrine two streets away from my house and I think it was telling the story of the origins of Japan. Or maybe just of Shimane. Anyway there were dragons and goddesses and a landmass was fished out of the sea with much banging of drums and trilling on the kagura flute. I had my camera handy but it was such an intimate wee performance with lots of wee kids running around and old people parked on chairs at random intervals that I didn't want to touristise the experience. I left when a bunch of high school boys turned up and started with the "Oh! Hello!" "Yes! hello!". Now that I am home I sense the story on stage has taken a dramatic turn. I can hear the drums getting illustrative over the whine of mosquitoes trying to circumvent my fly screen.
I wrote that last Tuesday and for some reason never put it up. It is nice to spend the evenings with the windows open again, rather too nice to spend them sitting at my computer it seems.
I shall briefly catch y'all up on the events of the past few month.
I went to Taiwan.
Taiwan was lovely. We didn't see or do very much, it rained all the time and we were only there for 5 days and one of those days we didn't go out in daylight hours, but it was such a buzz to be in a city, hanging out with a group of friends and going out and meeting people. I love this sleepy wee town but I just don't think I am the fishing village kinda girl. Enlightening times.
There were pretty flowers.
Japan is always gorgeous in the spring and this year was no exception. Much earlier than last year. And there is a bonus photo of the butterfly who took up residence in my light shade.
I played rugby.
I kid you not. I went down to shikoku and played a weekend of touch rugby. I got a nasty cold and hurt for a long time after. It was nice to see my countryfolk out in force. Felt right a home I did.

mmmmmm

I just had some blue cheese and it was simply delicious. I purchased this deliciousness in Fukuoka. I shall soonly write about Kyushu and all the excitement that has been mine in the last month, but I just wanted to share my cheese delight. Yes.

I don't wanna go to class or even meet my students in the corridor...

...because the little monsters keep making me smile. Something funny (bad funny) happened to the nerve that goes to my upper left teeth last week and now it hurts to expose them to anything slightly chilly - even classroom air. But! this has made me realise just how smiley my students make me. Even when I am trying to be grumpy-not-showing-teeth-lady.

Oki again!

I went back to Oki last weekend. It was lovely. The weather the first day was awful but after that the island turned on two such gorgeous days that it was hard to tear myself away.I spent the first night at Setsuko's big beautiful house out in Tsudo and it was good to get some quality time with her, then on the second night I went to the farewell party for Kamada and Kuroda, two of the teachers I worked with last year at Saigo Minami.
It was really lovely to see folk again, but almost without exception, everyone who hadn't seen me since last July told me how much I have changed. The most common descriptor was tough. I have (apparently) now become really tough. When asked to elaborate, they also came up with more confident, more energetic (and seemed to relate this to me having lost a bit of weight by not needing to warm myself with chocolate-and-peanut-butter-goodness all winter). I puzzled over whether this was just because they only saw a happy me making to most of time with friends who I miss a lot, or whether I really have changed.
And I think I have.
When I was on the island I was never bored or lonely like I have been feeling lately, but I was very alone. And being alone makes you rather introverted. I thought too much about what was going on in my head and I kind of lost the ability to guess (as one must for everyday interaction) what was going on in the minds of those around me (also they like, think in like, Japanese and stuff, so it is kinda tricky to mind-read). As Helen said it "there are some days when you just don't smile." And it is true, not because you are sad but just because you are weirdly calm.
Or something.
Anyway. I think what I am getting at is I spent a lot of time this year wishing I was somewhere else. Whenever I was frustrated at school, or uncomfortable in social situations, or lonely, or hungry for tasty Japanese dishes, I wished I had never left the island. But I don't think I have changed for the worse, so the me that has been missing that life is not the me who would be living it had I never left. I spend a lot of time living in a future that never comes to be or a present that isn't. It is time to take the advice of that great sage of Aurora Illinois, Garth: "It'll never happen man! Live in the now!" I shall try. Um and I shall also try to give a little thought to that fast approaching future of not being in Japan.
With that load of self involved soul-search-a-rooney. I shall leave you all and take off to Taiwan.
Mwah-ha-ha-ha.

An ode to teachers

I have been meaning to post this for a week, the lion thing (which was a page from the text book as hilariously mis-copied by one of my first graders with a d-b recognition problem) was just supposed to be a stall. So.
Another school year has finished. I am now on holiday.
In the final week of school we had graduation. I think I described the ceremony last year but I will do a quick recap. It is cold. And long. We spent about a week preparing to farewell the third graders, kids were making cards to give to leaving students from their clubs, making decorations for the classroom and rehearsing marching in and out of the hall for quite some time. On the day before we made the gym fit for the ceremony by meticulously measuring the distance between rows of chairs with a big tape measure. I kid you not. Since I was playing with the brass band this year I felt a lot more involved than I did at any of the ceremonies I dropped by for last year, But it had been weeks since I had had any real contact with the 3rd graders and I didn't really feel swept up in the graduation hysteria that was gripping the school... until the final parade.
After the ceremonious ceremony stuff. After all the students have gotten their certificates and bowed at all and sundry. They walk thorough the corridors while the remaining students cry, hug, take photos and thank them for their leadership and support over the past year or two. I had photos with a bunch of my kids. Some of whom I can remember the names of - others who have a nickname in my head they don't know about. And I was sad to have them go. They may not have been the easiest class I ever worked with, or the most enthusiastic, the friendliest or the smartest, but they were a good bunch who have now been dumped out of their comfort zone and out into the big bad world. And I will miss them.
The third year teachers took it pretty hard, as I guess they always do. They have worked with these students for three years and teachers here are far more involved in the life of their students than teachers back home. If a student is missing class, the homeroom teacher will visit their house. If a student is having any sort of trouble anytime, anywhere it is the teacher who is responsible. At the enkai, (the graduation after party) the homeroom teachers all talked about their time with this interesting bunch. It was amazing to hear just how much they cared for these kids who often to me didn't seem to care particularly about their own education. When the teachers watched the video messages from the students, there was hardly a dry eye in the house. Watching the ratbags sincerely thank the teachers for their patience and perseverance really helped me to understand what it takes to be a teacher, I think.
I am in awe of people who can care so much about their work and put so much of themselves into their job. Teachers get a lot of respect here, but they earn it. Yeah there are shitty teachers, I have worked with a few, and their students suffer from their lack of passion for education - a far greater handicap than (in the case of my subject) poor English skills. I know the huge difference a committed and enthusiastic teacher can make in the life of a student. I dunno if that life is for me - maybe I am still too selfish, but maybe when I am a bit older and wiser. I felt kind of ashamed farewelling my students. Last year my departing kids got cards or notes. This year I was going through such a funk in the month or so before graduation that I was just going through the motions at school and scraping by with the bare minimum. Not really good enough I guess. I suppose I am lucky to have a chance to experience school life (even in it's bizarre Japanese manifestation) with out the full responsibility for the minds of these kids.
Hmmm.
But sometimes I do get to feel like I've done something cool.
When I get a note like this from one of the kids at my bullied school.

The Hungry Lion

One day a hungry lion slowly came out of the forest. He wanted some food.

He sat on the grass and looked around. He waited for a long time.

The lion saw a rabbit under a tree. He ran after the rabbit.

Just then, a beer ran in front of the lion. The lion wanted a big dinner so he ran after the beer.

The beer ran away very quickly. The rabbit ran away, too. So the hungry lion got nothing.

Sometimes we are like this lion.

Vag Mogs

I started this post a long time ago. I wanted to write about the Vagina Monologues but it turned into a hugely confused, emotional something about how lost and out of it I have been feeling lately (worrying my poor parents by going incommunicado (does that make sense?)) and a rant about Japan what I've found here and what I will be happy to leave behind.
Since my home Internet is bung, I was adding snippets and stray thoughts every time I checked my email at school. It all got a bit much. I will try and order my thoughts and then will write something to let you all know where I'm at.
Here is the fairly lucid stuff I wrote about the Vag Mogs...
Although preceded by the craziness that precedes any production, thanks to the dedication of Titia who organised the whole shebang this year, everything came together on the day. I offered to make sashes for all involved which turned out to be far more of a headache than it should have been, but we all looked splendid on stage. I was involved in a few of the monologues, but my main one was "My Vagina was My Village" about the systematic rape that took place during the Bosnian war. It was pretty intense and knocked me around a bit, but I think it went OK (there is enough of the egotistic actor in me that I wanted some critical assessment of my performance but the best I got was "wow, awful"). We raised 80,000円 (about 1000 NZD) for the local woman's refuge. I shall post pictures if I can.
This year the spotlight (the Vagina Monologues focuses on the plight of a different group of women every year) was called 'reclaiming peace' remembering the women of the world affected by war, and the women left picking up the pieces when the fighting stops. Last year the spotlight was on comfort women, those 200,000 women from all over South-East and East Asia forced into prostitution by the Japanese military during the second world war. As you may remember, we elected not to perform the comfort women monologue for a number of reasons, one being that it is a condition of our visas that we do not make political statements. As I was writing about this year's performance, I read something that made me really, really angry. In 1993 the Japanese government issued a half-hearted apology to the surviving comfort women (but refused to offer any compensation) and it gave hope to the thousands of women still alive that something official might follow. Last week the Japanese Prime Minister denied anew that the military was involved in coercing (abducting and forcing) these women into prostitution. Some members of his party are calling for the apology to be rescinded. This made me grimly satisfied with my decision to be leave Japan and it's baffling nationalistic treatment of it's past. I need to be somewhere where I am not prevented from taking part in the political process on any level. But... is leaving really the most effective protest? where would a country be if every resident/citizen who cared about social issues skipped the country because they had a government who didn't? I joked about never coming back to New Zealand if National got into power in the last election, but what good am I overseas? I don't quite know what I am getting at here, or how this all ties together and honestly I don't think I'll be living in New Zealand long-term in the near future. But no matter where I am, I think I can safely assume I will be somewhere less frustrating, where I can make my voice heard. Here endeth the rant. The original was crazier, I promise.

Snow!

It's snowing! After Sunday's scorcher I thought it was about time to get the woollies packed up and posted out of the country, but yesterday morning I awoke with an even stronger than usual aversion to getting out of bed. It wasn't until I was shivering in the shower that I figured it was gonna be a cold one. (At least it gives me and bus-stop-fellow something to talk about, the weather is an inexhaustible conversation topic in this country. Next week we can talk about how cold this week was. Joy.) Yesterday there were wee flurries of snow. Kinda like ash after a burn off. But today school has been looking like a run-down snow-globe all day. It's days like this that I wish I could eat the hot school lunch... even if it does smell like socks.

Something I'm really not gonna miss about Japan is my pajamas always smelling like my lunch. My morning schedule is finely tuned, every second counts. In the 20-30 minutes between prying myself out of bed and racing for the bus... the hot water goes on, the veges go in the frying pan, the rice is out of the cooker, I shower while it cools, I dress, I dash. Um... breakfast happens in the shower. So you can see, until I am in a country with wheat-free sandwich possibilities, I shall bear the delicate scent of fried vegetables in the evening. Living alone huh.


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臭い

Taiko!

Taiko!
Since the very first festival I attended in Japan (wow, that incomprehensible evening on the island cruising around with Kentaro in his SUV seems a life-time ago) I have been captivated by Taiko drumming. The rhythms get into your chest somehow and it makes me silly-grin-happy to watch taiko... and playing taiko is better yet.
Last year towards the end of September, Rebecca and I joined an all-women taiko group up in Kanagi, about 20 minutes from Hamada. For the most part, those months last year were spent watching the others practising for festivals, but they always made time to teach us a few rhythms, and so every Wednesday and the odd Saturday that we were free, we trekked up there to get our taiko fix. Since we started again in February, we were been learning in earnest, in preparation for last weekend's festival. I have a a callous of which I am terribly proud.Our last practise was on Saturday and just when I thought I had mastered the rhythms... I managed to send my stick flying right to where I imagined a wee granny, or one of the cute taiko kids sitting during the next days performance. To calm our pre-performance jitters Rebecca and I met Ed for a quiet one after practise finished at 10ish. At around midnight it suddenly seemed like a stellar idea to repair to my house and watch Once Were Warriors. After which, of course, no one felt like going straight to sleep... it was almost four by the time I got to sleep. Sunday was HOT. Twenty four degrees HOT. I think that is hotter than it got the whole time I was home for Christmas. Doesn't sound hot to you? Try leaping around a drum for quarter of an hour. I was terrified, my hand were sweaty, my feet were slipping in my tabi (hoof feet, will post a picture) and my bee-antenna headband was giving my poor tired head a headache.
But once we started everything was OK, the rhythm took over and I was on a drumming high. Kiri-chan our ever patient and friendly sensei, had told me before-hand that i should smile nicely every time I made a mistake... as was to be expected there were a few rhythm errors and a wee issue with leaping out from behind the drum in my tabi... and somehow my smiles compounded so much (still smiling from the last mistake? stretch it a bit more) that by the end I was grinning like a crazy person and all the kids in the front row had stopped pulling faces to try and put me off and were looking rather scared. I can't wait to get back out there.
As a self-assured seven year old told me just before the concert...
7: "Once you've been out there as many times as me, it's just not scary any more."
Me: "How many times is that?"
7: "Hmmmm (in Japanese this is eh-to eh-to)... this is the second."
So I'm set. Next time (May I think) I will be cool, calm and collected like this guy.

Taiko makes me happy.
Thanks to the lovely folk who came to support us and take pictures.
(Pictures to come when my home Internet stops being a dick.)

I shall call him silver...

I have a brand spanking silver new bike!!
Actually, despite the enthusiastic punctuation, I am finding it rather difficult to be excited about this circumstance. It is nice to have a new bike and all but I miss my old crimson conveyance. The seat on the new one is a funny angle and the breaks both work and are kinda stiff and there are gears and other entangling gadgets on the handlebars.

You see, when I came back from the dance last weekend, after a gruelling several hours of rain-drizzled rugby and a long sleepy car trip and some unsettling Chinese food, I found that my darling bike had been taken from the station. Just why they chose my bike I will never know. It wasn't special to anyone except me and even had a protective Hamada city sticker on the mudguard. Fortunately my friend Darrell had parked not far away so I didn't have to gloomily trudge home in my girly dancing shoes or rugby boots (my sneakers did a disappearing act at a wee bar called Hideout).

But I am getting way ahead of myself with these current events. I shall now tell you of the dance, the dresses and the boys who strutted their stuff.

I did manage to get the dresses finished last week. Rebecca needed to do more than a wee bit of the cutting on her dress herself due to arm-bungness but we got there. And people told me how cool her dress was (slight grump that mine didn't garner the same comments) and the Mr Shimane sash and crown worked out fine (despite an unfortunate sitting-on incident with the crown - I must learn to be more careful with my bottom).

The party was great fun and thanks to Will's terrifying vodka martinis we were all boogieing in no time. But the highlight of the night was the Mr Shimane competition, it is always nice to see young men attempting to impress. Two of my friends from down here Ken and Darrell had decided to throw their hats in the proverbial ring (actually all the boys were from the south, which either means that we have the hottest boys living down this way, or that all the southern boys were desperate to catch the attention of the northern ladies... hmmm). They both performed admirably. Ken's dance was almost frighteningly animated. I only saw those two perform because I had to dash back to the door to let in a couple of stragglers, but I am convinced that was all I needed to see. I will post photos. You can be the judge. The actual competition was won by a fellow from Nima who sang a song about Japan.

The next day I played rugby in a rather sorry state and you know the rest.

This weekend just gone (hmmm a few days back now - curse the 'save as draft' function) I took part in the Vagina Monologues. I shall make a separate post for that one though. It deserves one.

Love to love you all.

Foxy

Deary, this thing really does get away on me. I spend so much time cyber-stalking my friends and obsessively following the links from their blogs that I forget to write my own.
Since last time I have been back to the needle-man once. It does help, and I can still almost see over my left shoulder and stuff, but during the last treatment the needling bit got pretty damn painful and I haven't been able to screw up the courage to go back.

On to happier things. Two weeks ago today, I went to my first English camp. And it was bucket-loads of fun. It was for the high school in the next town that runs a special English programme. I remember way back when I got my placement on the JET programme, that in amongst my angst at not being able to find Oki on the map, I was relieved that I had been placed at junior high school. I guess I don't feel far enough away from high school not to find the students slightly intimidating.

But these were first years and entirely unscary. My kids (the CC Lemon Shakers) were awesome and it was great to get the sort of quality time with students that for some reason I seem to be lacking at this school. The absolute highlight was getting the kids to write a play. It all began with a frog suit and a devil hat, and snowballed into a modern parable about bullying, drinking CC Lemon, and foxy boys in skirts.
A sample of the dialogue written and performed by the two boys who played the star-crossed lovers:
Kevin (aside): Oh she is foxy.
Julia (aside): Oh he is double foxy.
Kevin (aside): I want to drink CC Lemon with her.
Julia (aside): I want to drink CC Lemon with him.
Julia (to Kevin): Who are you?
Kevin (to Julia): I am Kevin. I am your hero.
Julia: Oh I'm Julia, I am your heroine.
Kevin: I love CC Lemon and you?
Julia: Yes, I love CC Lemon, and I love you.
Kevin: Shall we dance?
If only it was that easy.

The weekend after the camp, I took a trip to Hiroshima with Rebecca and Darrell to get some fabric for this weekend's prom (two nights to make two dresses... no worries) and eat some delicious Indian foods. Both of these goals were achieved. Unfortunately I also managed lose my cell phone. I realised it was gone pretty early on in the piece and spent the rest of the evening wandering the streets, retracing my steps and exhausting the batteries on my friend's phones calling over and over. All to no avail. We must have rung that number hundreds of times, but none saw fit to answer until half past eleven when I was safely home - a two hour bus ride away. In my infinite disorganisation, I managed then to dispose of the phone number of the fellow who had my phone. After a week of hoping he would call me I manage to acquire myself a new phone with the same number by only slightly underhand means and then very next day, the fellow called back about my phone. Which I now have. Hmmm... there was no point to this story, except maybe as a long winded apology for not getting back to those of you who have emailed my phone. I was, however, terrified by how lost I felt without it, I don't think I was ever so phone dependant before. Funny how a few short years ago I had no problem with wandering around foreign cities in an uncontactable state but now the thought of a message-less day is so unsettling.

Hmmm...I started this post several days ago. Life is a bit hectic because I bit off rather more than I can chew getting various bits and pieces made for the 20's dance this weekend and vagina monologues. Am sure it will all work out, but I hope I survive the working out and get can this bung body some sleep sometime soon. I will post pictures.

Also (not helping with general bung-ness) I have started playing the flute again. It is early days yet but it looks like I'm gonna play at school graduation with the brass band. It is much fun.

The machine that goes 'ping'!

It finally happened today. After a year-and-a-half of avoidance, I visited a Japanese physio-equivalent. I have been a little naughty lately you see - I have been stretching and carrying on as usual, but I have also snowboarded and taken part in a snowball-throwing competition (albeit in a gym with bean-bags for snowballs) and have somehow managed to anger my temperamental neck.

After not sleeping so very much for a few nights and a few days of headache, the inability to rotate today drove me to consult the school nurse on where best to get myself seen to. She recommended a wee chiropractic-type clinic (where I ran into my JTE - it is obviously oft-recommended) and so I trotted off with Nori (without whom I would have been lost in the scary maze of stretching contraptions and needles, dear Nori) to get chiropratored.

I wanted some neck-work done, but as soon as the man started prodding my back I knew all was lost. My back is just too bung to resist and he had a lot of fun popping and realigning bits (no girl can be told too many times that she has the back of a 60 year old) and then it was was time for ye olde acupuncture... or so I thought. Ye olde it was not. In Japan, ancient Chinese medicine has met bit shiny machines that go 'ping!' - each needle was hooked up to an electrical current and I spent 20 minutes twitching involuntarily from hair-line to knickers-line. There is no sensation quite like having quivering needles electrocuting one in the neck - and I am quite convinced this is a good thing. Then to calm my twitching I was given an a full body hot-pack... which would have been quite pleasant were it not for a few strategic needles placed to keep me awake. Throughout, I was told to let them know if any of the needles were hurting, unfortunately when I complained at a few of the particularly achy spikes, the fellow would pinch one of my belly rolls and say "That hurts, the needles are just a bit uncomfortable" (Or something to that effect, it is hard to concentrate on Japanese when you are concentrating on keeping still). I felt vindicated when all the ouchy ones bled when they took them out.

But the end result... I can almost see over my left shoulder, something I haven't been able to do for quite some time. I also have wee aches where there were no aches before though. I will see if I have nightmares about vibrating electric needles, and then decide if I shall return.

Not scary needles

Scary needles

My poor bottom

Thanks for all the lovely birthday wishes and belated birthday greetings and such. I had a very nice day, even if I was reminded by several of my students how very old I was now. My ratty second years even sang happy birthday for my in class and some of my adorable wee first years made me appallingly-spelled card. Much love.
Gemma and I had a preemptive birthday celebration last Saturday after the English camp at which I played some mean JENGA with Leif, Barbara and Darrell and then we karaoked the night away.

On the actual day I made me a birthday carrot cake which we decorated with terrifyingly sweet marshmallow (don't worry Rebecca, I did appreciate it, really) and then more karaoke ensued.

This first weekend of my next quarter century I decided to try something new and exciting.
After years of being too stingy and convinced of my own innate uncoordination to join expeditions to Ruapehu, I bit the bullet and snowboarded.
And yes, I do believe it is accurate to say I snowboarded. There was a lot of falling and bruising and tumbling and swearing and falling involved, but I don't think I sucked completely.
We got there bright and early on Saturday to discover there was no snow, or at least no natural snow, and only two runs were open. This may have worked to my advantage though because in the morning there was lots of room to practise. My friend Darrell was an excellent teacher and after a few goes I could make it down the mountain without falling... as long as I didn't turn around - that took a lot longer to begin mastering.
I very enjoyed, and even think I will go again.
But oh, oh my, it hurts.

Scraps

That nifty little video of David's trackies the other day was to be accompanied by an detailed post about where I'm at and why. Unfortunately, where I was was my flat and in the grand tradition of multi-tasking, I was attempting to keep warm, update my blog, and bake a cake all at once (note THREE appliances (4 with fridge)) and my fuse blew. Deary. I spent a good half an hour with an umbrella, a collapsible table and taped-together milk cartons remedying this situation and as a result the cake was tough, the house was chilly, my cell phone light was dead... and my insightful post was lost.

Well.

Since December...
I went home. It was many things. It was lovely, confusing, comforting, COLD, tiring and refreshing. For details of what I did and who I saw and where we went, please wade through the uberfluss of photos on my flickr.

ALSO...
A few of you know that I have been toying with the idea of another year here, but (don't worry family) I have come to the conclusion that that was just an ongoing "Rarrgh! What next?" panic reaction. While I was home, (odd, in NZ, Japan was 'home') Japan barely existed in my headspace, I talked about it, I thought about it, but I didn't feel it the way I did last time. Though I missed Japan, I know it was the people here that I missed and I'll miss them just as much no matter when I leave. I realised that I missed my kids, but not my job and I think I've gotten as much as I 'm gonna out of this gig. So it is definitely time to move on.
I located and signed the papers this morning.

Gracious. I will honestly endeavor to keep this thing up to date better. These random condensed posts are all a bit heavy. I will leave you with the story of Shinya.

Shinya hates English. I like to think he hates it no more than any other class in school but I can't prove that. He claims to have destroyed his text book, he comes to about half the classes and never, ever faces the front or stops talking and glowers at me in the corridor. Yesterday however, Shinya learnt a word of English. Suddenly English was the shizzle, it made him funny, it made everyone look at him and it was the perfect vehicle for his creepy stare (most kids don't look you in the eye - at least not for long). Unfortunately, Shinya's new word is DIE and all class he randomly called out classmates names and told them to DIE.
He got clever...

Me: Could you tell me how to get to the hospital?
Shinya: DIE?

Today he was all about English, he bellowed relevant sounding syllables during repeat after me and came up with an extensive list of fast food restaurants and electronic stores that we don't have in Hamada. But at the end of the class it was time to return to the old favourite. He told me to die. But! when I pretended to choke and fall down, the dear boy changed his mind, shrugged, said "Eh, sensei. Die, no." and walked away. This could be the start of a beautiful friendship.

Trousers in the wind

We took our togs. Oh dear.