Its my life outside school that keeps me here - cool people; lots of travel (going to Vietnam in two weeks to meet up with my parents and brother and sister and have been to Thailand, Cambodia and China. Thinking it will be the Philipines, Burma, Papua New Guinea this year (if all goes according to plan). I also manage to head to the cities near me at last every month or 6 weeks - usually Osaka or Kobe for some clubs and decent foreign food. In summer go down to the beach every evening for a beach fire and some swimming and music. Head to the mountains for some hiking the odd weekend; meet my Japanese friends and practice my terrible Japanese; try to convince my landlady that she doesn't have to make me dinner; play frisbee with my firsbee team;　sing Nepalese folk songs at a BBQ； try and remember how to speak French with Alamhe a fantastic drummer from Zimbabwe; teach my friends how to Irish dance or say feic or craic in a natural way; go to relax in the outdoor onsen (volcanic hot spring public bath where you bathe naked with other people - not something I thought I would ever do); drink with the lads outside Lawsons (Japanese Spar) and end up laughing with/at the hosts - incredibly dressed up orange haired Japanese guys who work in bars where their job is to entertain women who pay for their company (not anything else).

Help!

Ok I have lots of really cool pictures of the sports day and my elementary school kids - borrowed a digital camera - but despite managing to get pictures up on this damn blog before I can't seem to upload any now. It seems determined to mess me about especially since the pictures are guaranteed to be the best part. Can anyone offer any sage advice? I'd also like to know how to rob images off the internet for this thing - anyone able to help me?

Leitrim is much cooler than anyone ever knew.

So I’m a bit pissed (not too bad) and I’m on my bike cycling hands free over the river to the Bridge club for a hip hop night. Apparently the DJs are great – here for one night only before they go to Hiroshima to perform tomorrow. The gaijin are out in force – most of them dressed in their ghetto finery – one guy sporting a very tasteful medallion – its chunky, its gold, it’s a plastic dollar sign.

We’re wandering over there – past the primped and dyed uber-styled Japanese girls (put your tongue back in gaijin boy – poor Japan attracts some of the sleaziest westerners going – but you knew that). We wander past the uber-pretty, uber-styled Japanese boys. The drinking while driving in Japan is completely prohibited in Japan – zero-tolerance – if you’ve had a sip you’re over the limit. So I’m just thinking – there’s an awful lot of cars here when I realise what kind of cars they are.

Not many people reading this are from my village – but Emma if you’re out there – you know Francey Mac’s car? Think that but pimped by Pimp my Ride for Xhibit. Lots of really old, expensive, classic American cars ridiculously pimped. Then beyond the cosmetics is the hydrolics. Cars suspended three quarters of the way off the ground. Holy shit – maybe this happens in Leitrim but I’m not cool enough to know about it. As a gaijin in Japan I’m not very cool either but that’s cause I’m white – I have black friends though which seems to pass on some kind of associated cool. They are really into rap culture here. (Of course there is the other side of the story whereby any of the black JETs get subjected to some quite offensive personal comments and scrutiny which we’ve been assured is just as rude in Japan as it would be anywhere else).

So we go inside – the warm up acts are dodgy at best but still crazy dancing ensues. Just before the main act we all get called outside – a battle is about to begin – yes the cars are trying to out bounce each other. It’s the red one verses the black one – too late I remember my phones video capability and so I have an unclear video of them pulling away. It was one of the most surreal experiences I’ve had here so far I still reel when I think about it. I know that the yakuza drag race along the main road in front of my house at night and that there are some seriously pimped out cars around the city but actually watching them try to out-bounce each other really threw me. And it was the really Japanese way that they did it too – someone was there with a video camera and the red car crew practiced the little hand signal chant thing they were going to do for the video before it was switched on and the battle began. Fun times.

Undokai Aftermath

So after the sweatiness of Undokai comes the messiness of the Enkai – the drinking party. I had been forewarned about the bizarreness that is an Enkai but hadn’t really expected too much from my oh so nice but oh so tame teachers. I was greeted at the (sliding) door of the tatami room we were eating in with a pint of beer – a stammered question from someone who’s never spoken English to me before about whether I drink beer was quickly answered. Then we get down to the business of eating – such a large amount of food for so many small people. I was sitting opposite Kocho-sensei (the principal) – the seating plan was drawn out of a hat – so some polite him speaking Japanese and smiling and me speaking English and smiling ensued.

Then from what I thought was out of nowhere I was ushered up to the top of the room with one of the teachers who sits at the 1st grade teachers desk with me. We were handed a small glass of coke and two straws – then other pairs of teachers joined us and I realised it was a drinking game – only minus the drink. The teachers divided themselves up into their year groups (teachers here only teach one subject and one year group) and I was told we must do a performance. Everybody had decided to try a section of the traditional military exercise performed by the boys earlier that day. This involved them climbing on top of each other to form pyramids. My bloody camera was of course on the far side of the room while the 2nd year teachers formed a three tiered pyramid on their hands and knees before all straightening out and falling in a pile to the floor – the pictures below show the boys doing it which was all well and good but when a gang of drunk teachers were at the same it was almost too much for me.

I was innocently polishing off my beer (yes Japan has turned me into a beer lover – I can’t believe it – I like beer) when the very shy female English teacher who when I have tried to talk to her in English has responded in Japanese (which she knows I can’t speak)) came over and asked me if I would Irish dance for them. Japan is like an Irish village in many ways – they all know everything about each other and they pass on stuff about you that they have heard. I was watching the girls practice for their dance performance during the week and one of the teachers was telling me about it – traditional Japanese etc. She asked me if Ireland had any traditional dancing so I said yes. She then asked me if it was very slow and after I establishing she had never heard of Riverdance I risked a couple of 1-2-3s to show her. This is what led to my embarrassingly bad on the spot performance. Definitely a case of dance Monkey, dance.

I was rescued by my favourite teacher – Karakawa-sensei who has great English, is obsessed with the Beatles and Western rock in general and who collects swear words – he was very happy when I was able to expand his vocabulary. I stopped dancing and he got up insisting that he was going to dance with me. I then decided it was time for my revenge told all the teachers to get up – I was going to teach them Irish dancing. Oh how easy the 1-2-3s are when you slow it down – oh how foolish all my teachers looked when they tried to speed it up. Who’s the monkey now?

After two hours of eating and drinking it seemed time for most of my teachers to go home – which most of them did but the die hards kept going – of course me among them. I thought we’d end up at a bar but no we landed in another restaurant where they proceeded to order more food – what the hell? You’re all so little and you’re eating so much. By now I had discovered that a lot of my teachers spoke a lot more English than they ever let on in school (I thought that after the enkai when they had long conversations with me that they might repeat the performance in school – but I was wrong) and so I was having a great time chatting with (we got onto what names mean) Mr. Lives beside the Beach, Mr. Forrest, Mr. River and Mr. Happy in the Paddy Field. Two more hours pass and by now most of my teachers are very well on so its time for us all to go home.

I was not happy at this fading – it was only 10.30pm and I was just ready to get going. So lucky that I got a text from my friend – we’re heading to the club (yes that’s The club because there is only one club in this – the Leitrim of Japan) …

Undokai

Undokai was held on Saturday 10 September and began at 9.05 precisely – the opening ceremony, a boring affair that meant little to me was conducted with solemnity. Of course the teachers and students had all been at school for long hours before that. I went in at the usual time of 8am but when I got up at 6.45 they were all already across the road at school preparing.

The first event was the skipping competition. Whole classes trying to skip with one very long skipping rope. This small piece of bizarreness set the tone for the whole day. The three legged race was of course whole classes tied together. There was also the run along each others backs race. One kid is elected runner and runs along the backs of their classmates who after being trampled run forward to reform the bridge they are creating. What about the insurance I hear you cry – it seems that anyone who hurts themselves is supposed to just suck it up. These kind of activities build toughness – at least I think this is the attitude behind it – helped by the fact that insurance companies don’t seem to control the country. And its great all the crazy activities they have look like great craic – til I saw the one kid who had been elected back runner who never stood on a single back – he got necks every time and his classmates practically fell away screaming in pain every time. All in all though the day was enjoyed by all.

Later in the day the events took a weirder still turn when the Star Wars music came on and one boy wearing a white hat supported by three other boys attacked other similar groups until he had scalped his opponent or knocked him off his human mounts.

The girls performed a traditional Hokkaidan fishermans dance which sounds boring but which was really cool – lots of shouting ‘Soran Soran Soran’ and Mexican waves to symbolise the sea.

The crowning moment of the dangerous activities had to be the traditional military/athletic display that the boys put on. They spread out across the pitch in twos and threes and following screamed and whistled instructions displayed their prowess. Handstands and balancing was succeeded by pyramids. In the one in the picture here they go from a pyramid like this to lying out flat and collapsing on top of each other. The finale is the pyramid where they are all standing up straight and there are three layers of them.

Undokai Countdown

Sports Day or Undokai is one of the most important events in the Japanese school year – they go crazy over it and my school is no different. Classes have been skipped all over the show to make room for all the Undokai preparations. Each class designs and makes a massive banner as well as a smaller class label they wear on their PE uniforms on the day. I asked what I could do to help and it was suggested that I stay after school to help the kids with their banner preparation so I have a few times and have now slopped paint and stuck flowers on all kinds of banners – some with pictures of their homeroom teacher, some with ninja’s and one class even has the Power Rangers on theirs.

We also had a rehearsal – so the kids could practice when and where they run in, when to bow etc. It was at this that I first heard them play the Dangermouse theme tune. As you can probably understand I got very excited. ‘They’re playing Dangermouse’, I thought. “That’s Dangermouse!”, I said. “Eh!?!” (can’t convey the complex inflection they can put in this). By now I was getting very excited and had hurried over to the teacher holding the CD case (the full of himself PE teacher who has the most irritating laugh of all time) “Sumimasen, is that Dangermouse?” “Eh!?!” “Dangermouse – its Dangermouse (singing now) he’s the smartest, he’s the quickest, he’s the best … Dangermouse! Dangermouse! Dangermouse!!!” “Iie, that is Devilman” “What (crestfallen)?” “HAHAHAHAHA something incomprehensible probably about me – that is Devilman”. So it turns out that the Dangermouse music seems to be robbed from some Japanese anime that is it’s contemporary – as far as I can tell. I know Dangermouse was old when I watched it when I was a kid and it seems that this Japanese Devilman is about 30 years old. They were quite entertained when I explained that the same music was used in British cartoon that featured a James Bond-esque mouse.

But preparation for all-important Undokai had to continue so and I had to make yet another gaff. The school had borrowed several tents from other schools – steel frames with canvas covers to keep the sun off the kids and their assembled families on the day. The frames divided onto bundles and tied together and so I the builders daughter from Cavan went to help carry them to where they were being erected. I picked up one bundle of steel poles and headed over to the sports pitch – jaws dropped, “EH” was exclaimed and possibly the traffic on the street stopped moving. Then I realised, I was the only girl trying to help, the students were taking bundles four to a set and the teachers were struggling with two to a bundle. It was only me and the two teachers who are also sumo wrestlers that had taken a bundle on our own. Then the compliments started. “Rachel, you are very strong”, “Ahh, powerful” etc. To be honest what I think they were really thinking was “What the hell? Who is this freak who calls herself Rachel-sensei?”

Quarrelling

I've begun to coach the school's speech contest students. All over Japan students are coerced into taking part in the English speech contest and mine are no different. If you've seen Lost in Translation then you know that the most problematic aspect of English for Japanese people is the different pronounciation of R and L. Lip my stockings!

Japanese is a sound poor language and the two alphabets (that are alphabets - not the thousands of chinese characters) have characters that are romanised as ra ri ru re and ro but the pronounciation of them is a cross between the English R and L - rrlla rrlli rrllu rrlle rrllo (this is very much an approximation). So when the Japanese students see r or l written down its very confusing and sometimes (for me) hilarious. It is also frustrating as hell.

The two girls I'm tutoring for the contest are great - confident, friendly and now my favourites. We spent about an hour after school trying to master the word quarrel - by the end I couldn't say it but the girl whose speech it's in (twice - oh the cruelty) got it. When she finally said it right she jumped up and ran out of the classroom shouting to her friends outside that she got it. These speech contest kids are giving the elementary kids a run for their position of work highlight.

Mountaineering

When I was a kid my mother dragged us from one end of the country to the other in search of mountains to climb – our local Cuilcagh, the Mournes, Errigal and of course the Macgillycuddy Reeks. In the elementary school I was asked what the highest mountain in Ireland was and I could proudly point to Carrauntoohill on the map and say “I climbed it” (well nearly, we didn’t go to the absolute top because my father was carrying Cian (who was just over 1 year) on his back and it was too steep and nobody wanted them to go pitching off the side of the mountain). My English teacher then looked at the height (conveniently marked on the map) and said “Ahh 1041 metres, smaller than Daisen” – Tottori’s local tallest mountain. Of course I didn’t need this incident to tell me that Japan has much higher mountains than Ireland – I just have to look outside but the point was seriously reinforced by the hike we went on just over a week again.

We went to climb Mt. Mitsoku, a sacred mountain dotted with temples. The best part was that after the climb we were to stay the night in the main Temple complex and had been promised beer and entertainment.

I scabbed a lift to the mountain but unfortunately the convoy I was in arrived too late to climb – nobody is allowed to go up after 3pm. We were a bit miffed cause we had been told it was only an hour up and half an hour back and though it does get dark early here (7pm and the lights are all necessary) we thought it was a bit anal – we were 15 minutes late. But the Japanese don’t budge on these things so we settled into the monastery after being reassured that we could climb it in the morning – our zazen meditation class with the monk was going to be at 6.30 so we could climb the mountain at 8am (yippee). They had some Buddist scripture for us to copy out (I’m ok at tracing kanji but still illiterate so I have no idea what any of it says). After dinner the entertainment started – traditional Japanese dances by some yukata’ed women and a kid in all the gear. Then some different women came out, they were in yukatas too and even had on the pale geisha make-up but they were looking more hoary than pale as the moon. They were in fact several guys in drag who entertained us with a fan dance – it was genuinely hilarious especially when one of them began to loose his fake eyelash.

More beer was consumed (would you believe I actually like beer now – it’s a slippery slope from here on out) and the French CIR who organised the trip asked us to gather into our national groups and perform something from our country to entertain the Japanese people who had shared their culture with us. And so as everybody gathered into their national groups I sat there hoping no-one would notice if I slipped into my American accent and trying to figure out if there was anyone else who was the only one from their country. Lots of Americans, a sizable group of Canadians, two British guys, two girls from New Zealand, a Russian … no wait two bloody Russians and there was even two French people. I was the only one from Ireland so I tried the I have Canadian cousins can I join you trick (they were willing but it was me who couldn’t brazen it out) then I realised just cause I haven’t got the passport doesn’t mean I’m not British. I went to school in the north, I was even bloody born in the north so I wandered over but couldn’t go through with that either. And not just cause I don’t know all the words to the British national anthem – I actually know it better than the Irish one though there was a point when I did know the Irish one (enough to be appalled at what it means).

So eventually I figured out what I was going to do – up I got beer can in hand and asked everyone to raise a glass (ok can) for a toast. I taught them how to say Kampai! in Irish so we Slainte!’ed all round and it was going so well at this point (ie I had drunk more beer) that I decided to teach everybody the 1-2-3’s. So they watch me and then I slowed it down “1, 2, 3” before speeding it up and having the craic of watching a room full of half-cut people falling all over themselves trying to do a 1-2-3 quickly. And so we drank on and soon it was 4am and time to grab those two hours of sleep required before meditation.

Meditation was not what I expected – I’ve never successfully meditated (my Catholic school tried to make religion more interesting by having a prayer room (comfy seats and heating ensured that my prayers had the soft rhythmic quality of snores)). This was cool though lots of breathing, counting and a monk wandering around whacking people on the back with a big stick … seriously he was beating the shit out of them but I was a good neophyte and kept my mind on my breathing and counting as he went round smacking people.

Then it was time for the climb and Jesus was it a climb. None of these namby pamby ‘walks’ for the Japanese – parts of the hike were literally 180º inclines – we were scrambling up rock faces. It was great, I loved it. I may never sweat so much in my life again but it was fantastic. Anyone who comes to see me has to come and do it. Half-way up there was this temple built on stilts out over the edge of the cliff it was on – you could go all the way around on a little walkway and get an uninterrupted view of the country and mountains for miles. At the top of the hike was the main temple though and it was seriously impressive. It’s a small wooden temple that appears to be floating on the side of a cliff-face. The temple covers a shallow cave in the cliff and used to house seven statues one of which is hollow and filled with sacred scriptures. Its beautiful – completely worth the punishing climb. If anyone has seen Princess Mononoke there’s a bit near the start where it shows the village elders sending the prince guy away and the decision is made in a similar structure.

And the Cutest Child in the World Award goes to …

I’ve started my elementary school visits. I get to go play with the kids about three times a month and I know its going to be the highlight of work. You know the ad for the new phone network 3 – the one with the singing cherry and the two little girls who are in the finals for this award – imagine a whole school full of kids to rival those two all focused on you and trying to impress you with their English. The class consisted of my self-introduction followed by questions – I was asked what kind of beetles we have in Ireland and how far I could swim (they were very impressed with my answer of several kilometres – that earned me points). We then played games – London Bridge is Falling Down (ahh… how the lake at home returns to haunt me) and the Business Card Game.

The Business Card Game consisted of everybody approaching each other and executing this script.
Me: Hello. My name is Rachel
Kid: Hello. My name is _____. Nice to meet you.
Me: Nice to meet you too.
But really the English was just in the way of the real business – Janken. Don’t know if you’ve heard but Rock, paper, scissors is a serious phenomenon here. I’ve used it in Junior High classes where they laugh at how slow I am – but they were nothing to the elementary kids who were determined to beat me and win one of my business cards. Because that of course was the most important part – win as many business cards as you can by playing Janken for them. I think I enjoyed it far too much.

As soon as the game started I was surrounded by a huge crowd of kids – there was almost 60 in each class – and I Jankened until I was really to fall over. In the first class I was beaten badly and had no cards left. In the second class I somehow got good at Janken – I couldn’t loose even when I tried cause all the kids wanted was one of my cards so at the end I gave away the left over cards and was nearly mobbed for them. After the frenzy to get my meishi (cards) ended I was politely approached by almost every kid who I hadn’t won a card off and solemnly offered one of their cards. I now have an excellent network of contacts here in Japan, does it really matter that they are only 9?

Cead Mile Failte

I just have to reiterate how friendly the Japanese people are. Several of my neighbours (I think they’re my neighbours they must live near-by) have accosted me on the street to say hello. One elderly man tried (in very broken English after checking that I wasn’t already married) to recommend my landlord’s son to me. I was told, “He very nice boy”.

Aside from the random attempts at set ups it’s just the general friendliness in everything they do. My elementary school teacher has (after checking that I wasn’t married) decided that she and I should go out on the town together at some point.

Ireland has the reputation for friendliness and hospitality but its Japan that actually delivers on it.

Boot Camp

The Japanese constitution drawn up in the wake of WWII or ‘The War’ as it is here renounced war forever. There is a movement within the country to get rid of that clause and it is sinisterly enough supported by America for the obvious reasons. Despite the official policy there are still some very military undertones to the way things are done here. School is obviously where I’ve seen it most – lots of bowing of course but it’s the precise way it’s done and the way everybody conforms and falls in line. They expect to and are expected to.

Every class begins with the nensei (class rep) going up the top and shouting (in a voice that would be painful for a banshee to listen to) the relevant order which the rest of the class responds to with a cat wailed ‘I humbly thank you for condescending to teach me’ (I’m paraphrasing). They then all bow and in most bowing instances in Japan the parties bow to each other (and then get caught up in a frenzy of bowing to each other which threatens to never end) but in school the pupils bow to the teacher who does not bow back.

Every morning at precisely 8.05 all the teachers get up and bow to the Kocho sensei (principal) before the morning meeting begins. The school’s opening ceremony and our earthquake evacuation drill were both executed with military precision. Each class knew which exit and in what order they were to enter and exit from. One of the teachers issues orders which roughly correspond with “Attention” and “At ease”.

When I was in school we had assemblies and lined up in our classes but it was all the casual wander in when you’re ready (and late if you’re Rachel) with people standing about and chatting (or sitting on your arse and trying to sleep if you’re Rachel). It may have been a Catholic girls school but I’m happy it wasn’t boot camp.

I got the military undertones straight away but it was the traditional military style dance performance that the boys do that really confirmed it for me. School here is a mini boot camp.

Apologies

Hey I'm really sorry - I was having trouble logging onto the blog and then I got busy so here is the stuff I've been writing and not posting - its all a bit out of date but I'll catch it up!

I miss talking about the weather …

The heat here is unreal and I’m hoping that both the kids and I will be able to escape the humidity induced stupor when it cools down. Jesus let it cool down. September 1st yesterday and it was the hottest day of the year so far. I’m actually dying here – it was cooler for about a week about a week ago. During that week my air conditioning broke – normally an occasion for a full scale meltdown (physical and emotional) but it was cool enough outside so I thought it was just not working cause of the outside temperature. I slept with the door open to compensate. Then the killer heat returned and Sam (yes I have named my air conditioner because I love him, you call the ones you love by their name even if they’re an inanimate object) was still dead – he was giving me air but it wasn’t cool even though I had the damn thing set at 16 degrees (I also never appreciated until I got here that a room that is 25 degrees is actually quite cool). Eventually my supervisor came over to save me – ie to see if it was really broken before he called in the experts.

Good thing he did because it turns out that it wasn’t. My illiterate self had simply managed to switch it onto the heating setting. Poor Sam was trying to heat my room to 16 degrees when it was already 34. I hate being illiterate. Oh and by the way I can’t read. I can’t write. I’ve learned one of the (many) alphabets so I can sound out the words that come between the Kanji (the most difficult alphabet of them all – Chinese characters with Japanese meanings which shift depending on the context). The library, normally my saviour is a menacing place where I huddle beside the small collection of English language books and think of the Long Room, Hodges Figgis and the National Library (in fairness my thoughts probably shouldn’t turn to the Long Room since I can’t read latin either but it is pretty so…)

The best days of your life…

That’s what the American films try to tell us anyway – yes its school. I’m in a Junior High which is the first three second level grades – from ages 11/12 – 13/14. I’ve only taught the lethargic 3rd graders so far but I can’t help but be amazed by how defined as stereotypes they are. There are the cool kids, the popular (pretty) girls, the good athletes, the geeks, the wannabe cool kid hangers-on and the outcasts. And I can tell who is who by simply looking at them – I don’t even need to understand what the hell they say to each other. It’s made me step back and reconsider all those American high school films – I always thought they exaggerated and caricatured the stereotypes but I’m now thinking that they may just be spot on – here at least.

Moving to Japan is a lot like trying to learn how to cycle with no hands

I can cycle, I love cycling, me and Manwell enjoy our carefree spins by the river but I’ve always felt that my cycling skills left something to be desired (NB it was not my fault that the truck hit me). Its not the basics of manoeuvring and dealing with traffic that bother me, it’s the little things that give a cyclist some flair – I’m fine with speeding round corners and dodging pedestrians but the thing that has always proved too difficult is cycling without my hands on the handlebars.

I’m presuming that you know that it is supposed to be very hard to learn to cycle as an adult if you never cycled as a child – its cause kids’ centres of gravity aren’t fixed (they’re growing) and cycling requires you to shift your centre of gravity so when adults try they have a much harder habit to break. So I thought I was too old to learn to cycle without hands cause you have to shift position but I was wrong. The friendly river bike path to the beach is where I taught myself – it was easy to pick up and fun – one 15 minute trip to the beach and I was flying round an uphill corner with no hands.

But then I realised that everything you do in cycling has to be relearned without hands – turning, going over rough patches, going over the breaks in the footpath. Everything is similar but harder and slightly off kilter hence my Japan analogy– but I can do it now – I can cycle with no hands.

Shan-Shan Shangarilla – not my title this is what the dodgy dance version of the song (complete with Mark McCabe style English voice over) called it

So there we are 4 - gaijin trying to follow the directions of the dance instructor. He only speaks Japanese and his teaching method relies mostly on telling us what we are going to do – when we do try it we are expected to have mastered it immediately based on his lengthy verbal instructions. Fortunately most of the people around us (who are fluent in the language) look as mystified as we’re feeling.

A week later and we are now Shan-Shan gurus. Shan-Shan is a local festival that coincides with Obon – an important national festival when Japanese people return to their ancestral homes to pray to and feed their ancestors. It’s like the Blessing of the Graves but more important. Shan-Shan is a rain dance – hence the bell laced umbrellas although why they need a rain dance in the prefecture with one of the highest levels of rainfall in the country is beyond me (I really am in Leitrim, experimental roundabouts and all).

So last Tuesday we went out to beg the powers that be for rain and outside at the moment we’re reaping the benefits. The festival was a lot of fun. The Board of Education rented us yukatas (cotton and cooler version of a kimono) and even paid for us to go to the hairdresser and have our hair put up – think me using sign language to say ‘make it bigger’ – never been so backcombed in my life.

The actual parade was the highlight – as the foreigners we were placed near the front. Ahead of us were the BOE bigwigs who were there to drink rather than dance – an alternative option freely available to all. Everytime we stopped a cooler full of sports drinks appeared along side a cooler full of beer and sake. To my surprise the 4 hour parade flew by – a tribute to the craic more than the alcohol cause I didn’t drink.

Routine

I’ve been going to school for about 3 weeks now – the summer vacation is in August though so there’s no classes. There are students however, they all come to school practically everyday for bukatsu – club activities. I am now involved in the school swimming club and the table-tennis club. I sought out the swimmers and was roped into table tennis by one of my English teachers.

The swimming club has two hour training sessions in which myself and the 4 kids involved generally just mess about – I’m the one who does the most swimming which was never the case in my club at home. They are decent swimmers – better than me now but not as good as the best of my old swimming club (I was never one of the best) and I can swim further and faster than them underwater (great achievement Rach, you can hold your breath – hey shut up I’m proud (there’s not many comments so I have to argue amongst myselves)).

The table-tennis club is a different matter all together – the first time I walked into the gym to take part I was met with the sight of 5 kids at three tables practicing their co-ordinated table tennis moves without using balls. They looked like mini-Forrest Gumps in training – which it turns out is exactly what they are. I am abominable at table-tennis and because they are too polite to laugh it means that I’m the only one who does. I thought that my English teacher was in charge at table-tennis but today my fear of the Forrest Gump factor was increased exponentially by the arrival of ‘The Trainer’ – not only my title for him – when the kids told me who he was you could hear the ‘’ and capitals in their voices. He’s an austere man who barks in harsh tones at the mini-Forrest Gumps as they expertly reproduce the precise movements.

My serve is pathetic and I can’t master any of the robotic movements required so I exited stage left very quickly after the arrival of ‘The Trainer’. And so my education continues…

Signature Tune

I've decided that Hotel California that Eagles classic is going to be my signature tune for karaoke and I'll whip out Bad Moon Rising by Creedence Clearwater Revival on special occasions. Hotel California has proved to be nice and safe - absolutely everybody sings along its great.

Happy Alone by Kings of Leon is currently my theme tune here. I'm thinking you've all been listening to Ain't no Sunshine (ahh how I love Al Green) since my departure...

Vindication

So I’m at a cross-roads (don’t worry this isn’t a metaphor), ahead is the well lit main road that leads you home and to the right is an alley badly lit by the occasional light from apartments above. Toshiyuki is with me. He is a random guy who struck up conversation with me, two of my fellow gaijins and the little Japanese woman we met at the festival dance practice.

Her name is Miko and she works in the prefectural (county) office and has been asked (ordered) like us gaijin’s to perform at next week’s Shan-Shan festival (think dancing and spinning umbrella’s covered in bells). After practice we asked Miko to join us for dinner which we had in a very nice subo shop where the little old lady in charge couldn’t do enough for us and it was here that we met Toshiyuki.

Being illiterate is hard but its not as bad as it could be when you’re in a country whose restaurants put plastic displays of the food in their windows. Toshiyuki followed us outside to help us pick our dinner and then struck up conversation. After dinner we all exchanged email addresses before hopping on our respective bikes and heading towards home. Toshiyuki and I had the same road home and so it was that I found myself at the cross-roads facing a choice.

Should I follow Toshiyuki, an acquaintance of about half an hour, down the dark alley so he could show me where his apartment building is?

Of course I did, I’m me, but I do know that it wouldn’t be the recommended course of action at home. But I’m not at home, I’m in Japan and the great thing about this place is that it vindicates all those arguments I had with people about not having to take a taxi home … it’s safe. So safe that when one clueless Jet guy asked some Yakuza guys (real Yakuza - all tattoos and missing fingers) where to put his empty beer cans they politely took them from him and located the correct bin.

And we don’t even have Yakuza…

Entertainment

So what do you do for entertainment when you’re a newly arrived foreigner with almost no Japanese. Go out with the other newly arrived foreigners with almost no Japanese of course! We had our prefectural (county) orientation last Thursday and Friday. We went out to a club on Thursday night and I was just getting into the swing of the night – up for a few dances, had some shots etc when everybody started to drift home. It was 11.30pm and they were all going home. I ended up with a British guy, two American girls, some Japanese guys and me being the only ones who made it past midnight – it had been a long day but still…

The next day was not a good one for a hang over so it was good I didn’t have one. We were treated to a boat trip up the coast and then we headed to the sand dunes. For those of you who didn’t hear about the sand dunes before I left I have to give a brief sketch. The sand dunes are what Tottori is famous for – 16km of 300 foot high sand dunes – a small taste of the Sahara complete with specially imported camels. We crossed the dunes which in the heat is a nightmare – I recommend that everybody avoids getting stranded in a desert. And if you do don’t wear flipflops – think burning feet. But of course the sea at the other end is the nicest stretch of beach for miles – crystal clear water. I rolled down the dune to go for a swim knowing it would make going back twice as bad – I had to swim out really deep to get any water that was even approaching cool enough (the lake has spoiled me for comfortable stretches of open water).

Now I’m really going to make anyone still reading really jealous. We went out on Friday night again to a beer garden – there was actually very little garden to speak of but plenty of beer. It was an all you can eat and drink in four hours deal for the more than fair sum of €20. I felt that national pride was at stake and so took advantage and ended up teaching a group of Japanese engineering students how to say cheers in Irish. Slainte everyone!

After the beer garden those of us still standing headed to a karaoke place. It is so much fun, I can’t believe how much better it is here - €10 got us another all you can drink deal and an hours karaoke in our own booth. Myself and a guy called Reed sang Hey Jude and Take me out. I sang Girls Just Wanna have fun (admittedly with every girl and several of the boys in the room) and did Californication with a girl from Brazil. I’m going to have to come up with some signature song while I’m here. So yeah … entertainment.

Communication

I live in shoebox in a three-storey stack of shoeboxes but the ground floor contains the restaurant run by my landlord and staffed by his family. They are really nice but can’t speak any English and I’m really nice but don’t speak any Japanese. It would seem that we have a bit of a problem. But with perseverance and pointing its amazing what you can say to people. We managed to establish where I was from by me noticing my landlord was wearing a t-shirt with a map of the British Isles – this was fuel for a full 5 minutes of laughter. Another day myself, the landlady and their son bonded over our attempts to lower Manwell’s saddle to a manageable height for me. My Japanese is terrible but I’ve discovered I have a talent for guessing what they’re saying to me if I know the context.

The people here are really, really friendly. I had been here four days when I was accosted by a little old lady with a smattering of English. She stopped me and started asking me where I was from, did I live in Dan’s flat, was my mother English-Japanese? The last question immediately followed the information that I was from Ireland – I get the feeling that she thought that I would need a motive like that to come so far rather than her detecting any Asian features.

I heard the story of the gaijin who was followed around the supermarket by an old lady who exclaimed over everything they put in their basket several times. Each time we were told the story the teller would explain that the old lady was not nosy, she was simply curious about this strange foreigner, what did it eat etc. I’m not so sure, I think the old lady is actually just nosy. I know that’s what the old women at home are. They might not follow the guy who has lived beside them all their lives around the shop but they do notice if he puts anything strange in his basket.

Settling In

My bike is called Manwell but we rarely get to try out how fast we can go because everyone here cycles so bloody slowly – there are very few opportunities to test your reflexes or fight the good fight against the taxis. There are taxis but most drivers here, even the taxi drivers are polite and well behaved – its put manners on me. The only place Manwell and I get to really test our speed is on the traffic free bike path to the sea, its left both of us quite disappointed.

Politeness is as the stereotype here goes, very important. My reflections on cycling here are flippant but demonstrative and so the first few days here were a succession of introductions to Board of Education administrators and school teachers. Learning the polite Japanese phrases and etiquette and unpacking is about all I actually did.

So yeah politeness is very important here but the reserve that I had half expected is not so common. People are curious about us gaijin and really eager to help when you’re stuck – which is often.

Welcome Home Rachel

There are lots of Jets in Tottori-ken (county) but 4 of us are new Junior High Jets and have the same supervisor. Me and three Americans, they’re nice but it’s definitely a case of the American and the unAmerican. I can refer to this place as the Leitrim of Japan as much as I want and they’re not going to get it. Our first day was a long tiring nightmare of admin stuff but then it was mercifully over and I was at my apartment.

So here I am, home sweet home and yes everything you have heard about Japanese living space is true – I now live in a shoebox but it’s a pretty shoebox and its my shoebox so I’m happy. Dan the guy I took over from left me a message on the white board saying “Welcome Home Rachel” and 5 minutes here and I was comfortable. Sometimes when I set my futon out on my living room floor to go to sleep I feel like I’m sleeping on someone else’s floor but not really.

Behind my shoebox are several mountains of the popping out of the ground covered in lots of green trees variety and beyond the mountains is the sea. Now I know that sounds like I live far away from the sea but it is actually about a 15 min cycle. Half an hour takes me to a nicer beach than the one close by but I have to go up and down one of the mountains to reach it so I reserve it for special and energetic occasions.

I go to the beach quite a bit, whenever I don’t get to swim in the school pool. Yes my school which is conveniently across the road from my shoebox – I mean flat – has a 25 metre outdoor pool which has resulted in the two competing swimsuit X’s branded on my back. I have a great tan (just for Emma). To counteract this of course when I’m not swimming or taking a cold shower (I take quite a lot of these in fact I haven’t turned the hot water on at all) I’m melting – its over 30 degrees here most days with high humidity. The thermometer in my kitchen has been known to read 38º. I have an air-conditioner and I’ve fallen in love with it, his name is Sam.