Shirami

Sayonara

2006-08-11T23:00:00.000+09:00

Well, after two years the end finally arrived. Having spent a fortnight saying what felt like an eternal spiral of goodbyes, I didn't actually think the final sayonara would be especially emotional. I was, however, proved sorely wrong on that point. When I boarded the night bus in Hachinohe bound for Tokyo - well let's just say I was more than a little overcome emotionally. Having come to Japan with nothing more than an open mind (and a 35kg bag full of somewhat mangy clothes), I found myself leaving behind, almost in its entirety, the life that I had built for myself in Aomori during my two years on JET. A life that included many people and places that have become very close to my heart.

There can't be many times in a person's life when you have to say goodbye to someone forever, and doing it every day for weeks became a very bizarre and almost farcical ritual. Being great lovers of ceremony, the Japanese like to choose a fixed moment that is designated as the time for your defintive goodbye. As is to be expected, this is usually a very sincere and emotional moment, and can be a very touching way to part. What happens if you just happen to bump into a person that you have already gone through the motions of an 'offical' Sayonara with, however, came as rather a suprise to me. In the event of such an encounter the atmosphere quickly becomes palpably uncomfortable: the Japanese person facing you is cleary unaware of how to deal with such an unstructured situation. Conversation is kept very brief, and the person who might have been all smiles and pats on the back the day before, is now desperately hoping that they can scarper from the scene with little more than a wave and a mumbled "see you!". I count myself lucky that I only had a few such encounters.

I don't feel that it is an exaggeration to say that living in Japan has been the greatest experience of my life. Without any Japanese language abilities, and very little true appreciation of the culture of Japan, life here has at times proved difficult, frequently frustrating, and sometimes just very strange - as was noted by a previous departing JET, there can be few experiences in life more humbling than becoming completely illiterate overnight.

During my final week in Gonohe I found a little piece of folded-up paper, which on inspection turned out to be a questionnaire that newly arrived Aomroi JETs had been asked to fill out during our arrival orientation two years previously. One question asked on the form was, "What are you most worried about concerning your new life in Japan?". I wrote that I was worried that I'd be overcome by homesickness and want to go home. Thankfully, the expected homesickness never surfaced. The strangest thing was that when the end of my life in Gonohe arrived, it actually felt a bit like I was leaving home.

2006-07-30T10:38:00.000+09:00

Japan 2004 - 2006

Well everthing is very crazy at the moment. Every spare moment I have is being used to pack, so I apologise for the deficit of blogs. I will be back soon with some concluding musings, most probably written in Hong Kong. Until then I leave you with this.....

2006-07-16T00:36:00.000+09:00

Farewell Khazakstani Dance

Mind Your Manners

2006-06-28T23:32:00.000+09:00

It is perhaps no surprise that good manners have come to form a core national characteristic in a land where 127 million people live huddled together in the few open plains that exist in a relatively small, and highly mountainous, island chain. On the surface at least, the Japanese surely have to be amongst the politest people in the world. Visit any Japanese supermarket, convenience store or restaurant and be prepared for such an onslaught of courtesy, that you would be forgiven for thinking that that you had been mistaken for Prince Rainier of Monaco. When I first arrived in Japan I couldn't help but piss myself with laughter every time I went to fill up my car with fuel. The send off I received from the petrol station staff, who all lined up to bow farewell to me and scream “arigato!” until their larynxes took early retirement, seemed more appropriate for the launching of a ship on its maiden voyage, but I was just driving off to buy a loaf of bread.

JETs generally find that politeness plays a larger part in the culture and language of Japan, compared to in their home country. Take for example the fact that Japanese verbs conjugate differently depending on the level of politeness inferred. For example, the Japanese word for 'eat' would be 'taberu' if I was speaking to a friend, 'tabemasu' if I was being reasonably polite and 'omeshiagari ni narimasu' if I was speaking to someone especially important, god, or just kissing arse a bit. Generally speaking, learners of Japanese will start out by learning the 'masu' forms of verbs, which is the fairly polite form of the verb. There are several reason why starting with this verb form is useful, but it does have some particular drawbacks for ALTs like myself. The main problem is that while using the 'masu' form of verbs is fine when addressing teachers, it would rarely be used by a Japanese person in casual situations or when speaking to children. However, as many new comers to the language haven't yet learned the plain form of the verb, they are forced to communicate in the same unusually polite manner with everyone they meet. This can quickly become rather frustrating, especially early in the learning curve, when you are just starting to muster enough of a command of the language to communicate with your students, only for them all to start giggling at you because you continually address them in an inexplicably polite manner.

For foreigners the most commonly encountered manifestations of Japanese politeness can sometimes be the most irritating. First of all there are the “oohs” and “ahhs” that you, as a gaijin (lit. outsider), will almost certainly receive if you manage to so much as pick up chopsticks, never mind use them competently. Then there is the curious Japanese custom whereby foreigners are congratulated on their marvelous Japanese language abilities, even if the words uttered were painfully rudimentary – my record so far is when I was congratulated on my Japanese abilities for simply saying “konbanwa” (good evening).

Of course all this is not to say that Japanese people are always polite. For some unusual reason the Japanese seem to be painfully blunt when it comes to any kind of comment about body shape or general appearance. “You're looking fat today Ewen, you should try and lose some weight” is just one example of the friendly banter I have with one of my co-workers in the office. At first it is difficult not to take offense from such statements, but you have to appreciate there is rarely any malice intended. Indeed, such bluntness may at times result in an inadvertent compliment. One friend of mine, while on visits to the onsen (hot springs), has, on repeated occasions, received open remarks about the size of his manhood from surprised Japanese .

When I first came to Japan I think I found the levels of politeness here somewhat overwhelming, as well as sensing that the practice was so insitutionalised that sincerity was frequently absent. Yet there is something I have came to admire about the Japanese respect for civility, even if it does often ring hollow in its superficiality. Given what must surely be among the world's lowest crime figures, it seems evident that the nation's heavy emphasis on courtesy has contributed towards fostering the strong sense of mutual respect – on the surface at least – that appears to exist in Japan. If only they could just work out a Japanese equivalent for 'big boned'.

Wierd and Wonderful

2006-06-22T19:48:00.000+09:00

If you were to ask a random Japanese person on the street* what they think their country is famous for abroad, the response volunteered would no doubt simply be a list of some of the well known features of Japanese culture familiar to people throughout the world. Sushi and samurai aside, however, one thing that the Japanese would be very unlikely to suggest, yet perhaps one of the things that Japan has come to be best known for outside its borders, is the nation's apparent quirkiness.

When I first arrived in Japan I was bracing myself for encounters with the weird and wonderful on a daily basis. If the UK media are to be believed, you'd expect to find that robot dogs are all the rage in urban Japan, while square melons have nudged their boringly round counterparts off the shelves, and cyber toilets that not only wax, buff and shine, but also send information on your diet to the fridge so it can order you a healthy dinner, have become de riguer. Indeed, one late night TV show in the UK dedicates its entire focus to the latest quirky crazes gripping Japan, while another contains a regular feature which simply consists of clips from Japanese commercials and TV game shows.

This image of Japan as a land of abundant hi-tech weirdness has became so established in the UK that people will sometimes believe anything. One British comedy show conducted a mock interview a few years ago, in which the presenter successfully convinced a prominent UK celebrity that the Japanese had developed a new, and rather novel, way of smoking cannabis: via a dog. This new method – whereby the unfortunate mongrel did the smoking, acting as a sort of filter, while the user had the fumes channeled directly into his veins - was alleged to aid users in getting that extra powerful high. Of course it was complete fiction, but the celebrity was convinced. It was no doubt the fact that the story had been attached to Japan which lent the 'Cannabliss' tale a false air of authenticity. Bar financial news, the national press rarely turns it's attention to Japan unless it is to report on the latest quirky fad.

Unfortunately my expectations about the fantastical weirdness I would in encounter Japan have largely been disappointed. Of course there are many things about Japan that I find strange because of cultural differences, but it would be wrong to label these as weird simply because they are unfamiliar. In two years living here I have not yet seen a single robotic dog, or indeed ever heard mention of one, and the one square melon I did see while up in Sapporo led to such an inquisitive grilling from my co-workers when I told them about it, as to suggest that this novelty fruit is not widely encountered. That is not to say that the odd little gem of quirkiness can't be found, however.

Just last night I had the great mispleasure of sampling the latest contender to enter Japan's already crowded drinks market: 'Sparkling Coffee'. It's a wonder really that nobody ever thought about carbonating coffee and selling it in a can before. Well, not really. Up until now drinks manufacturer's common sense has spared us from its fizzy wrath. Tasting somewhere in between Coca-Cola and a cup of Nescafe, the drink isn't actually as unpleasant as you would think, but that doesn't mean it is a beverage to savour. From the reaction of the one Japanese person I saw trying this new drink, I feel confident in predicting its imminent demise – although, as my Deputy Headmaster told me today, when Coke was first released in Japan everybody hated it and said it tasted like medicine, but now they can't get enough of it; but then again Coke isn't fizzy coffee is it.

Then there is Japan's second round of Beatle Mania, although this time the beetles concerned are of the small, black and shiny variety. The 'Mushi King' craze (Mushi is the Japanese word for 'insect') has been a hit amongst primary school kids for the past couple of years here. Kids collect playing cards with beetles on them, wear clothes featuring them, can buy computer games based around beetles fighting, and are often seen having battles with their friends using plastic beetle figures. The appeal of the craze eludes me, but the kids can't get enough of it. Come this summer, parents across the country can look forward to spending their weekend foraging around the woods with their children, net in hand, as they try to catch their own real live mushi. For those who don't fancy all that hassle, they can simply visit one of the many toy stores that now stock live Beetles, complete with food, earth and plastic box. Those beetles lucky enough to catch a discerning child's eye can look forward to a life been shaken about in a tiny plastic container in an effort to make it 'do something interesting'. I haven't discovered yet whether the kids try to encourage their beetles to fight, but remembering the childhood game 'Arena' that my friends and I used to play down at the fisherman's pier, where we used to make various sea creatures fight each other for our own pleasure (crabs always won, jellyfish were rubbish), I think it's safe to say there are probably a few 'Mushi Battles' taking place across the country at any given time.

Finally, there is the now infamous Hard Gay, a leather clad Japanese comedian whose camp antics have captured the heart of a nation. As far as I can see, the joke with the Hard Gay character is that he's gay. Dressed in a skin tight leather vest and shorts, Hard's TV show follows him around as he grinds his hips in the direction of the various strangers he encounters. The results are generally very amusing, although scenes where he does his grinding into the faces of children are just a little worrying.

Just how those Japanese who travel abroad feel when they discover that their country is widely regarded as being a tad eccentric I'm unsure - although in my experience Japanese people have always appeared to revel in the idea that they are different. One thing is for sure, if they all take up drinking Sparkling Coffee, it will be a reputation well deserved.

* Warning - It should be noted that approaching or speaking to a Japanese person can be potentially hazardous and may cause them to: panic; tell you that they “don't speak any English” (in English) even though you are talking to them in Japanese; forget all their Japanese language abilities rendering the person completely unable to understand what you are saying to them; insist on using English very badly even though they are clearly uncomfortable and have virtually no knowledge of the language; cross the street to run away from you.

The End is Nigh

2006-05-31T16:18:00.000+09:00

Well I can hardly believe it, but there are now only two months left until it's all over. It has been an incredible twenty two months, but sadly my time to leave Japan is nigh, and on the 1^st of August I will walk out the door of apartment 101 Karuni Haimu for the very last time, ever. Although I have always known that two years would be the longest that I would ever stay here in Gonohe, that hasn't made the actual prospect of leaving any less strange. It's not often in life when leaving somewhere feels so definite. Ever since I signed the piece of paper in January, confirming that I would not be re-contracting for another year, I haven't been able to shrug the rather uncomfortable feeling that the clock is ticking down on me.

As is always the way when you face leaving somewhere you have been a long time, there is a tendency to remember the good times and forget the bad. With so many fond memories at the forefront of my mind the imminent prospect of leaving Japan does make me feel a little sad. But then I guess it's necessary to remind yourself that, of course, it wasn't always sunshine and smiles, and – horrendously cheesy though it sounds - the end of one stage in your life also marks the beginning of another.

During my time living in Gonohe, many of the things that appeared so bizarre to me when I first arrived have become relatively normal. These days being obliged to drive at 30mph on main roads hardly ruffles my feathers at all, I never give a second thought to the (once infuriating) fact that bank ATMs close at 9:00pm, and I even relish the prospect of eating raw horse meat – a dish that scared the life out of me when it was first served up as a treat on my arrival in the town. Thanks to Japan I have virtually forgotten what it is like to fear crime, and even in the seediest parts of Tokyo my guard is always down. Simply finding myself in situations where I have no idea what someone is saying to me has almost come to feel the natural state of affairs.

But it's not just the idea of leaving Japan that feels strange, equally the prospect of returning home is a little weird. If you'd asked me just before my departure for Japan if I thought much would be different by the time of my return, I'm sure I would have said that I expected things to be much the same. After all, two years isn't that long a time. Yet, gradually, I've come to doubt whether this will really be the case. Of course, whenever I speak to people back home they always say how everything is just the same and little has changed, but for me, having left the context of my life in Scotland, I can see many things will be different. Just take for instance the fact that in the course of the past two years several people I have known have passed away, quite a few have given birth, some have got married, and one even went bald. When I got on the plane back in the summer 2004 you still had to empty your wallet to cross the Skye Bridge, people were more than free to spark up a cigarette in the pub, and if your mobile phone had a camera built in you were very much the exception. Now the bridge tolls are gone, the smoking ban passed and camera phones are all the rage. Yet those are just examples of some of the changes that I am aware have taken place. I will also return home with a two year gap in my knowledge of UK pop culture: two whole seasons of Big Brother, the Crazy Frog ringtone craze, and the meteoric rise of The Arctic Monkeys all passed me by (which was probably for the best actually).

Of course coming back to Scotland isn't going to be like The Planet of the Apes, I'm sure that when I return it will take a little time to readjust to the 'reverse culture shock', but I feel confident that the chances that the apes have taken over are relatively slim. I did ask one friend who returned home for a visit if it was strange going back, and was interested to hear that one of the first things to strike him were the many smells that were so unlike those of Japan which he had become accustomed to. I can't help wondering that if something as basic as the smells of home can become unfamiliar then there must be a whole host of other things that I will need to reacquaint myself with. I guess this summer I shall find out.

2006-05-19T13:28:00.000+09:00

Traditional Japanese Costume

The Art of Wasting Money

2006-05-11T16:17:00.000+09:00

As a child I can remember my grandfather's frequent despair at the way money appeared to “burn a hole” in my pocket. Given a fiver, I could last no more than a day or two before the urge to spend would simply overwhelm me and I would be forced to buy some utterly forgettable sculpted plastic toy. To an extent this childhood habit of frivolousness has lingered into adulthood, however my arrival in Japan has shown me, thankfully, that I am not alone in my capacity to fritter away my funds. You see throwing hard earned yen down the drain is somewhat of a creative endevour in the land of the rising sun. Take a brief stroll around almost any small town in municipal Japan and you would be forgiven for thinking that the local town hall must be awash with cash, even if the town's residents don't seem to be particularly plush. Indeed, it can sometimes be quite a surreal experience exploring Japan's rural towns, never quite knowing, as you pass dilapidated housing and empty shops, when you might encounter a 50,000 seat baseball stadium, complete with rotating roof, cybernetic toiletry and a heated playing field.

Local government spending splurges most frequently manifest themselves in the magnificent public parks that seem to exist in nearly every Japanese town and village, no matter how small. The creation of such parks, often as public works projects, proves beneficial for local politicians as they provide employment for locals, generate prestige for the town, and create a useful public amenity. It is also widely acknowledged that contracting such work also creates a lot of scope for politicians to secure kickbacks from the local construction industry. Subsequently public parks in many small towns tend to have a dizzying array of facilities, which very often seem completely out of proportion to local needs. Examples range from small infrequently patronised parks that have three or more car parks, providing massive excess capacity, to one local park that I occasionally visit, which has three individual playgrounds right next to each other, as well as a monumental bird shaped bridge.

Even here in my beloved home town Gonohe, a relatively poor place, itself located in the poorest prefecture of all Japan, we have our own selection of prestige constructions. Take for example the local school. When it was built, Gonohe Junior High School was widely regarded as having the best facilities of any school in the entire Tohoku region (a large area of northern Japan). Such a lofty title is perhaps not so surprising given that the school's impressive collection of facilities includes a closed network TV system complete with recording studio, a sculpted Japanese garden with water features, and, most remarkably, a planetarium – all of which are lucky to be used once annually. Other surprises include the town library which must surely be one of the only libraries in the world to have its own flight simulator (if you think that is good, there is a town north of Gonohe whose library houses a painting by Picasso), and the local community centre is an impressively grand construction. It is hard to believe that all this can be found in town whose economy has been in the doldrums since long before the Japanese economic bubble burst.

The title for perhaps the most amusing waste of money, however, must surely go to the infamous ASPAM building in Aomori city. The giant triangular building, constructed out of glass and steel, which was designed specifically to provide the city with a memorable landmark. Located in the heart of the downtown, there is certainly no denying that ASPAM is an impressive sight when lit up at night. The trouble with the building, however, is that it failed to achieve its intended function. You see, when it was built, it was hoped that Aomori's glass pyramid would quickly turn into a cash-generator, securing high rents from local companies keen to have office space in such a 'prestigious' structure. This idea might have been fine if function had been allowed to triumph over form on the architect's drawing board, but those responsible for planning the construction of ASPAM were evidently more concerned about impressing people with looks rather than creating something with practical utility. It didn't take long, however, before the flaws in the design became clear to all: triangular buildings, with their impractical shaped rooms that diminish in size with each level, do not make for ideal office space. In the end Aomori's answer to the Trump Tower was forced to search for a new raison detre, eventually becoming a kind of glorified tourist office.

I guess as a Scot it is a bit cheeky of me to be commenting on the frivolous spending of Japanese politicians, when Scotland herself so recently threw such an extortionate amount of taxpayer's money at the new parliament building in Edinburgh. But you have to give credit to the Japanese, who, just as they did with the simple acts of putting flowers in a vase or folding bits of paper, have turned something fairly straightforward and mundane into an art form. My grandpa might have hated it, but there is something I almost admire about the incredible ways that my hosts in Japan can think of to waste their cash. Hell, they even wasted some of it on me.

Not like us

2006-04-04T13:18:00.001+09:00

Blond hair, blue eyes, big nose, a tall frame, I have none of these features. Indeed, neither do a great deal of the ALTs on the JET programme, yet the presence our rainbow coloured community in Japan has done little to dispel the classic clichéd image of the 'Westerner' which prevails in popular imagination here. Quite where the Japanese get their ideas from I’m not so sure. Perhaps it is an enduring legacy of the old World War Two alliance with the Nazis that can explain why foreigners are generally portrayed as sturdy Aryan thoroughbreds. Or it may simply be that such easy classification suits a nation fixated about well defined boundaries and definitions. Certainly the strength of this stereotype's hold can be confirmed by the not infrequent tales from those JETs of non-European ethnicity who, to their great surprise, have been greeted on their arrival in Japan not with joyous welcome, but instead despondent sighs: their hosts apparently disappointed at not being sent a 'real foreigner'. Thankfully I tick enough of the right boxes to qualify as a 'real foreigner’for my hosts here in Gonohe - although I suspect, secretly, they would prefer the same model but in blonde.

Of course, in fairness, it's not just the Japanese that are guilty of stereotyping. It is no secret that in Scotland many people still tend to think of Asians as being uniformly short, rake thin, cursed with horrendous teeth and gifted at martial arts. What has really come to surprise me during my time living in Japan, however, are some of the more curious notions that abound about foreigners. Some of these fantastical beliefs distinguish Westerners from Japanese in ways that delve deep into the realms of the absurd.

It takes only a short time spent living in Japan as a foreigner, before one starts to get the feeling that Japanese people view themselves as being somewhat of a breed apart: human certainly, but a sub-species not quite on the same level as the rest of us. I remember being taken aback the first time someone hinted at the Japanese national pedigree to me. I was at a friend's house, with a few other Gonohe locals, on a particularly cold winter's day. We were all sitting around the kitchen table having dinner together, and I was having a bit of a gripe about the pervasive chill that was making it difficult to sleep at night. Before I could finish my moaning, one of the Japanese women sitting round the table suddenly interjected, exclaiming, in a rather boastful tone “the cold doesn't affect me!”. My first reaction was to simply assume that she was referring to the superior heating system in her house, and so I was left rather incredulous - not to mention bewildered - when she actually followed up her opening gambit by smugly explaining that “Japanese people are fortunate to have blood at a different temperature to Westerners”. Elaborating further, she then proceeded to educate all those unfortunate enough to be present about how this apparent difference in blood temperature (in her mind at least) is what allows Japanese to endure their country's fierce winters and, of course, explains why foreigners find the waist deep snow and minus temperatures ever so slightly uncomfortable.

At the time I just brushed the incident off, reassuring myself that the women's curious belief must surely have been the uttering of a fringe imbecile. However, only a few months later a friend recounted a similarly worrying tale. Whilst casually chatting to a Japanese man, she had made the almost unbelievable discovery that he, for reasons that seem almost impossible to fathom, believed that Westerners are born without mouths. Of course, there were a few fatal flaws with what he was saying, but in a desperate attempt to reconcile his insane theory with reality, he rationalised that as Westerners quite evidently do have mouths later in life, that an opening must be cut by the midwife in the delivery room. My friend, bottom jaw to the floor, couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing, but thankfully disabused the lunatic of his preposterous belief.

What is most worrying of all, however, is that what sound like the fanciful prejudices of the occasional maniac, are in fact a reflection of attitudes which receive a degree of official sanction by the Japanese government. Take for example the female contraceptive pill, legalised here only four years ago, owing to fears that it might affect Japanese women differently to their foreign counterparts. It was argued that insufficient testing had been done on Japanese women to make sure it was suitable for them – 40 years of use by women in the West was deemed an insufficient guarantee of safety. In an amusing conclusion to that particular tale, the Japanese feminist lobby were actually able to secure the Pill’s legalisation when, spotting glaring double standards, they questioned why Viagra had been approved for almost instant release. It was evident that the men staffing the Japanese drugs approval board weren't too worried about that particular drug affecting Japanese men differently from foreigners. Perhaps we're only different when it's convenient.

In the Club

2006-03-07T23:08:00.000+09:00

Earlier this week I had the great pleasure of attending Gonohe Junior High school's 23^rd annual Judo Takai (competition). Offering Judo in schools has been strongly encouraged by the Japanese government recently in an attempt to promote indigenous sports, and I was personally pleased when I discovered that the education authorities in Gonohe had heeded the politicians' nationalistic call. The event itself was quite a spectacle, with around 60 students drawn from the three grades knocking the shit out of each other to try and win the title of 'School Judo Champion'. At any one time three fights would be taking place, and I can assure you that the students certainly weren't shy about getting physical, there were spotty teens being chucked about right, left and centre. As can only be expected, a few of the quieter students proved reluctant to give it their all when fighting the cooler kids. There were, however, a few plucky young characters who did manage to muster the necessary courage to take on the school Trendocrats – a readily identifiable group of surly teens, noted for their intensely preened hair, severely plucked eyebrows and an amusing tendency to wear their trousers half way down their arses. I have to confide that I drew considerable satisfaction when this happened, finally getting a chance to watch some of the most irritating kids from third grade getting thrashed in a way that I can only dream of doing to them.

Although my involvement in the day went no further than acting as a spectator, I actually left the tournament a little battered and bruised myself. As I sat on the floor observing one particularly exciting match, which pitted the previous year's champion against a strong contender from the same year group, I suddenly felt a violent impact against my left shoulder which caused my entire body to lurch forward. Before I had time to even think about reacting a second blow fell, this time it was my right shoulder that had been targeted. As fast as I could I swung round to try and catch the culprit before a 3^rd blow could be inflicted upon me. But when I turned round I was surprised to discover that my phantom thrasher was in fact a student, a young girl who quickly explained that she was simply treating me to a shoulder massage. The student in question evidently interpreted the term “massage” in the loosest possible way, as the experience that followed was rather akin to having an angry male gorilla thumping you on back repeatedly. Quite why the student, a third grader of dubious mental faculties, decided it was a good idea to sneak up behind me and started punching my shoulders violently I will never know. However, the custom of students giving teachers massages is not all that unusual in Japan, and to be honest it's also not really that surprising that teachers are in need of massages here, not given the amount of time they spend teaching club activities.

In Japan the school day usually finishes between 3:30 and 4:00, varying according to the school, yet virtually no students will go home at this time. This is because Japanese schools are expected to offer a range of after-school club activities for the students, covering sports, music and art. You shouldn't be confused, however, by thinking that these clubs are anything like what you'd expect back home. Club acitvities aren't just about larking about with your mates and climbing all over the school gymnastic equipment while the PE teacher is in the toilet: in Japanese schools club activities are serious stuff. Once the students arrive in first grade they are required to choose which club they want to be a member of; once they have decided, that will be the club they remain in until they leave school at the end of third grade.

You see Japanese people don't take adopting a pastime lightly; if you choose a hobby, then that becomes your thing; you buy the best equipment you can possibly afford, you practice as much as is humanly possible in your free time, and you never, ever, stray from your chosen pursuit by taking up some other hobby. As a result Japanese people tend to be ridiculously good at whatever pastime they have decided to fill their free time with, something which I discovered when I mistakenly made the decision to try joining in with the school basketball club one day after school.

One Thursday I decided that I wanted to get to know some of my students better outside the context of the classroom, so I asked one of the teachers if I could maybe join in with the basketball club for a day. The teacher agreed so I headed for the school gym to join my students. Once there the team coach immediately instructed us to begin a harsh regime of training exercises which the students were expected to do every day. There was no laughs or smiles from the kids, just a lot of sweat and numerous determined looking young faces. Almost immediately my piss-poor abilities became clear to all, as I ran about the court erratically, barely managing to control the ball. Things went from bad to worse when I accidentally knocked, not one, but 3 first graders in a row to the ground as they tried to get the ball off me. The coach looked both bemused and slightly disturbed by the presence of this lumbering foreigner who was taking out his prized players one-by-one. After about an hour of intense training he decided to call me over for a chat, during which time the kids actually had a proper game. For around half an hour the coach and I made some small talk about Scotland, covering the staple themes of whisky and Nessie, and then, unfortunatelly, the clock dictated that I had to leave, as it was time for me to catch the next bus back home.

The following week I came along to try my hand at basketball once more, but it was a similar run of events, and yet again the coach called me to one side to have another - and essentially exactly the same - strategically timed chat about Scotland. It was then that the reality dawned upon me that training was as far as I was going to get in this particular club. The coach was clearly trying to get me off the court so the kids could play, as tactfully as he could. And so it was that those 2 visits became my one and only foray into the curious world of club activities. I guess that while my brutal massage at the Judo Takai showed that being a spectator does not always ensure safety from injury, I came to learn that my non-participation in school sports is definitely in my the students' best interest.

2006-03-01T19:18:00.000+09:00

I'm worried that I may be influencing the teacher who sits next to me.

Secrets of the Japanese Smile

2006-02-22T17:50:00.000+09:00

The Japanese, like their equally unfortunate neighbours the Chinese, have traditionally received a lot of stick from Westerners regarding the condition of their teeth. During the Second World War propaganda posters even made a feature of it, regularly portraying the bestial “Jap” with his slight eyes grossly exaggerated, a squat pig-like nose occupying the centre of his face and an exaggerated mouth almost bursting with jumbled zig-zagging fangs grinning sinisterly at the viewer. If such posters were to believed then the Allied soldiers had more to fear from their opponent's molars than their bayonets. Even to this day politically incorrect children throughout the western world continue to indulge this classic stereotype in the playground: the typical school impersonation of an Asian generally involving tugging at the sides of one's eyes and then biting over the bottom lip with your top row of teeth in an effort to reproduce the perceived dental malady of the average Asian. Of course as we get older, and hopefully a little wiser, people begin to dismiss such crude stereotyping, but sometimes the playground can be closer to the mark than you'd perhaps think.

Last week I was enjoying lunch in the company of my 6^th graders at the local elementary school. Normally I would have my lunch with the teachers down the stairs in the staff room, but this week the kids has especially asked if I could join them upstairs in their classroom (lunch is eaten in the classroom here, not in a dining hall as is the case in Scotland). Once lunch was finished I hung about for a bit of chat with the kids, something, as a very infrequent visitor to elementary schools, I'd never really done before. After 10 minutes or so had passed it was time for everyone to brush their teeth, this is standard procedure in Japanese schools and even the teachers join in. In the junior high schools this ritual simply involves everyone grabbing their brushes and then heading out of the classroom to negotiate a space along one of the trough-esque sinks than line the corridors. But in the elementary school the procedure was somewhat different: instead the teacher instructed one of the students to switch on “the video”. Driven by curiosity I decided to hang about to see what was about to be shown. Once all the students had filtered back into the classroom and had seated themselves at their desks, brushes at the ready, it was time to hit the play button. The large television screen began to glow revealing a figure who I guessed was most probably a dental nurse as she was balancing, with considerable difficultly, a giant set of teeth on one hand and holding a large toothbrush in the other. The featured women began to clean the over-sized dentures using the novelty brush, all the time shouting out instructions at the kids telling them to copy her. For the next 5 minutes the classroom was filled by the sound of 30 children brushing in perfect unison. It was a very Japanese sight. Afterwards I asked one of the kids if this procedure was the same every day, she replied that the exact same routine took place every single lunchtime.

Given that the Japanese instill good dental care practices so rigorously, and at such a delicate age, you would be forgiven for thinking that the Japanese could perhaps serve as an example to the rest of the world, a shining beacon of good dental hygiene. That, however, would be until you actually visited Japan. One of the first things I was struck by on my arrival here was the pitiful condition of the nation's gnashers. Blackened calcium pegs indented with patches of assorted metals featured regularly in the otherwise pleasant smiles I was greeted with. I'd see pretty young girls who evidentially invested a lot of time in their appearances, dressed in soft pastels, the delicate scent of perfume enveloping them, and with grins that bore the dental profile of Ken Dodd. Poor dental hygiene and the accompanying bad breath, meant that in my first few months here I regularly found myself reeling from both my co-workers and students due to the stench of rotting gums and festering abscesses emanating from their gobs – I have now learned to keep ample distance from those I am talking to. Braces are a rare sight, mouths full of protruding overlapping teeth are not. The legend of the Japanese people's terrible teeth is indeed no myth. So where does it all go wrong? Do the kids simply forget all they were taught in elementary school?

There is, of course, no short answer to such questions as there are many factors which contribute to making Japan the living embodiment of every dentist's nightmares. Traditionally when a Japanese child loses a tooth, they are taught an ancient custom, "ue no ha wa en no shita e, shita no ha wa yabe no ue e nageru." Literally translated, this means "throw your upper teeth under the floor, your lower teeth over the roof." The idea is that the upper teeth will grow downwards towards the tooth on the ground, and the lower teeth will grow up towards the roof, and all the teeth will grow strong. Indeed children would sometimes even pray for strong teeth. Yet baby teeth, are regarded as ephemeral and as such little importance is placed on keeping them in good condition, after all, parents reason, they will fall out eventually. Resultantly, many parents do little to encourage brushing, which in turn simply hastens the decay of their little darling's teeth. It doesn't take long for the cumulative damage to become evident: one look at an average Japanese teen's smile and you would be forgiven for thinking that scurvy is endemic in the country. The failure to encourage a habit of regular brushing amongst young children is often the first step on the slippery slope.

Then there are the dentists, who are unfortunately more often part of the problem than the solution here. For any work done on the national health service dentists are paid per appointment, as a result getting a simple filling can require up to 10 appointments, a serious disincentive for the infamously time-strapped Japanese. On top of that, toothpaste in Japan does not contain fluoride, and neither does the water supply, meaning that the Japanese tend to have rather week teeth - and foreigners with any sense get their toothpaste posted from home. Social pressure to keep your teeth in good condition isn't strong either: for a start if everyone else has bad teeth then why should you worry about your own, and in Japanese culture the quality of someones teeth has no bearing on the beauty of their smile – hence many Japanese models have stunningly beautiful faces, accompanied by stunningly bad teeth.

So given all this in mind it seemed especially unfortunate about a month ago when I made the discovery that I have a fairly large hole in one of my back teeth. It's obvious that it's going to require a filling but, having already seen plenty of evidence of their work, the prospect of visiting a Japanese dentist instantly fills my head full of images from 'The Little Shop of Horrors'. I might be mistaken, but I think it might just be best if I sit on this one.

God bless America

2006-02-17T20:48:00.000+09:00

If you haven't already heard of Dennis Madalone, then you have been sorely deprived. His song 'America we stand as one' has recently achieved the lofty accolade of being the “most downloaded song on the Internet”. Indeed, I'm such a fan that I have actually posted a link to his song before in an earlier blog, but for those of you who missed out, just click on the word patriot.

Now Dennis' song represents a new genre in American music commonly referred to as “Patriot Rock”, which largely sprung about as a response to the tragedies of September 11th. I myself was instantly a fan of both Dennis' song and the new genre from the moment I first heard 'America we stand as one'. Indeed, so moved was I, that I decided to email Dennis personally, just to let him know just how much I appreciated his music video and song, and to inquire if there was a chance I might get to see the man himself!

- Dear Dennis

I thoroughly enjoyed listening to you patriotic rock anthem. I'm actually Scottish, but for some reason that song made me too feel proud for America, and just for a second a bit like an American too. I am currently teaching English at a a Japanese Junior High school. My school is near Misawa, America's northernmost base in Japan. I was wondering if you have any plans to play your mega rock smash hit to the troops anytime soon? I would love to get a chance to see it performed live. I look forward to your response, and many thanks for all the work you are doing for charity.

Ewen Wyness

Now Dennis Madalone is a busy man, not only is he now a semi-professional musician thanks to his song, but he is also kept occupied by his day job working as a stunt coordinator on the Star Trek TV series. Incredibly, Dennis managed to find some spare time in amongst his busy schedule to respond to my email.

- Dear Ewin / thank you for youir kind and Beautiful words about our song / please send me your mailing address and I will send your the cd and dvd of our song. p s what size t- shirt do you want / of cource there is no charge it is truly a gift. love to you and allll.dennis madalone and my family.

Good old Dennis is a man who keeps his word, for only a week later a parcel absolutely brimming with patriotic goodies had arrived all the way from the US of A. In amongst this bountiful feast of Americana I received a patriotic T-shirt, a CD of the single, 2 signed DVDs, 2 signed Photos, and two signed business cards! What touched me most, however, were the messages Dennis hand wrote, they were true words of kindness:

“Ewen, your kindness is touching the world”
“Ewen, Keep on being you”
“Always believe”

And it wasn't just me who Dennis addressed his kind words to, there was a special photo enclosed for my students with the gentle message “For the kids. God bless you all”, and one of the DVDs was marked “For the world”. So I just wanted to write a little thank you blog to Dennis, both for his highly entertaining, and in ways inspirational music video, and also for just being a ruddy good bloke. If you should die Dennis, I'm sure we'll all remember that you're with us in a different way.

2006-02-16T23:32:00.000+09:00

Absolute Gold

Imagining Japan

2006-02-14T18:11:00.000+09:00

I can remember when I first arrived in Japan being rather surprised by some of the things the Japanese seemed to think that their country was famous for abroad. People I spoke to would regularly ask me whether I had been lured to Japan's shores by the promise of it's world famous cherry blossoms, their high speed bullet trains and the unusual delights of a country with four seasons – having four seasons being something which the Japanese tend to boast about rather incessantly. Yet the Japan that was being described to me was very different to the one of popular imagination in Scotland. My mental image of Japan before I arrived here was of a nation populated by fanatically hard workers, who watched very bizarre game shows on TV, enjoyed luxuriously high tech toilets and had a rather unpleasant tendency to kill themselves. I hadn't ever given any thought to how many seasons Japan had, but coming from a continent where every country has four seasons, it struck me as a rather pedestrian thing to boast about. Equally, I don't ever remember cherry blossoms featuring in my pre-Gonohe image of Japan, yet the Japanese are utterly convinced that it is one of the first things that comes to mind when a foreigner thinks of Japan. And as for the Shinkansen (bullet train), I think I did watch a programme about it on the Discovery channel once, but it would have featured very low down on my list of famous things from Japan.

It has been very interesting, however, discovering how a country's people believe their homeland is perceived abroad. I was rudely shocked myself when I discovered that Scotland's relatively high profile in Europe, Canada, America, Australia and New Zealand is not matched in Asia. I could just as well come from Burkina Faso for all people here care. In Asia most people's image of Scotland doesn't advance much further than whisky, and bagpipes if you're very lucky.

Today I did a class at school where I asked all the kids to take a minute to think of some of the things they believed would feature in a foreigner's mental image of Japan. After the minute was up I then asked each individual student to name one of the things which they thought of. The responses were quite interesting, for while many of the kids did manage to select the kind of things which would likely spring to mind if a foreigner were asked to think of Japan, such as Sushi, Samurai, Kimono and Mt Fuji, far more students chose things which the Japanese people tend to believe their country is famous for, such as Natto, a foul Japanese food composed of fermented soya beans which it is believed only Japanese people can stomach; Onsen, the volcanic hot springs frequently exploited as public baths which dot the country; and the Tokyo Tower, a marginally famous structure in the capital purposefully built to be larger than the Eiffel Tower. Conspicuous by their absence were Karate, Oragami, Karaoke, Bonzai trees, Fugu (Blowfish), Godzilla, Haiku, flower arranging and a whole host of other staples which traditionally make up the classic clichéd image of Japan as seen from abroad.

Quite a few kids did guess correctly that Hara Kiri, the custom of committing suicide by ritual disembowelment, was indeed famous abroad, yet many were surprised to discover that Ninja are well known. No students volunteered Kamikaze as an answer, and I decided that it was probably best that I didn't mention it. On a similar note, when asked to name internationally famous places in Japan, none of the kids chose Hiroshima or Nagaski, despite them both being infamous for the tragedies visited upon them during the Second World War.

I guess gaging how your country is perceived abroad is essentially very difficult unless you actually visit foreign countries. Although the Japanese do a good job of scattering themselves throughout the globe in their infamous flag totting tour groups, the style of Japanese tours often means they have little interaction with the local people, and as such miss out on potential opportunities to learn about their international profile. Subsequently the Japanese, like people in many countries, generally rely on their own media to inform them about how about they are viewed from afar. So it is perhaps understandable that there is a considerable discrepancy in how people here believe Japan is viewed and the actual reality. I wonder if I could help by showing them a copy of Karate Kid.

Winter Break

2006-02-01T17:38:00.000+09:00

I suspect that there are many people who would agree with me if I said that in Northern Japan it often feels that you don't so much experience Winter as endure it. Sure there is a lot of fun to be had entertaining yourself with Winter sports on the weekend, but even the hardiest of souls can find the long dark nights and biting cold a bit of a chore after a while. Unlike in Scotland where a generally rainy and windy Autumn gradually slips into an similarly rainy and windy Winter, in Japan the gentle chill of Autumn, with it's fantastic display of reds and gold, snaps rudely around mid-December, when the skies darken rapidly and the menacing grey clouds which blanket the sky begin to cough up continuously heavy snowfalls upon those unfortunate enough to be living below. It's at this time of the year that you begin to wonder how Japan ever got the name 'Land of the Rising Sun' , because the sun at most times appears to be very well hidden indeed. The start of the snowfalls is accompanied by a dramatic plummeting in temperatures. It is a testament to just how far the temperature can drop that, come around mid-December, most ALTs begin to keep their olive oil in the fridge so it won't freeze on their shelves.

Were Japanese houses not built out of plastic and paper mache the winters here might not be regarded with such trepidation by foreigners. In sensible countries like Canada, Norway or Iceland people can escape the intense winter chill by seeking refuge in their insulated, generally centrally heated, homes. In Japan by contrast, land of the automated arse polishing toilet seat and robotic football-playing dogs, central heating and insulation remain inventions yet to be imagined. Instead here single rooms are heated using dangerous kerosene stoves, which are best kept running otherwise the heat quickly escapes through the house's inch thick walls. As these stoves take a while to kick-in, people traditionally take refuge underneath a kotatsu, a curious piece of Japanese furniture which is basically a low lying table with an electric heater built into it – I slept underneath mine last year as my bedroom was too cold to set foot in, never mind sleep in.

I have been told that the slow up-take of modern heating methods by the Japanese is related to the customary Japanese view that it is more sensible to heat your body directly than wasting energy on heating an entire room/house - hence the popularity of the kotatsu. Frankly I have to disagree with the my host nation on this one: when it reaches the stage when you're too afraid to even go to the toilet because of the cold (although I am fortunate enough to have a heated toilet seat) you know there is an issue in need of addressing.

So as you can probaby guess, all this darkness and cold can get a bit depressing after a while, a feeling which is often augmented by the isolation felt when living in Japan as a foreigner. As the end of December approached I could feel myself in desperate need of a respite. Remembering well how my visit to Australia the year before had really helped me recharge my batteries – as well as my supply of vitamin D – I decided that a long winter break to some hot destination was a must. It was a little difficult choosing just where to visit; China and Korea were both out because their winters are reputedly even fiercer than Japan's; I had visited south-east Asia just last summer and wasn't keen on revisiting the region so soon; I did have one friend who was going to Jordan (somewhat incredibly his route took him from Japan via Amsterdam) but traversing such a long distance didn't appeal. So finally I settled upon India as my destination of choice. I knew it would be hot there, the culture interested me, and, unlike in Japan, I knew there was a good chance that I would actually be able to eat the food. And so it was that I departed to India for my 3 week winter vacation.

I have decided that this is not the place to recount my tales from India, I did think about it, but Fog-on-the-Wyn/Shirami has always been intended as a blog about my life here in Japan – and besides, I need to save some stories to tell people about when I get home. Needless to say I had a very nice time, saw some very nice things and met some very nice people. Most importantly the weather there was fantastic, so for 21 glorious days I reveled in the baking Indian sun without even once giving a thought to snow. Unfortunately my winter sojourn meant that my dear blog has been neglected for quite some time. But fear not, I have returned and so have my musings. Expect plenty of exciting tales involving snow, ice and tubes of Raljex in the coming months.

Keep Safe

2005-11-30T18:16:00.000+09:00

I was sitting at my desk vegetating yesterday, having spent a very unproductive day without any classes as the students are studying for their forthcoming exams. My mind was becoming so numb that I decided a cup of thick strong coffee was necessary, just to make sure that my brain continued to instruct my body to perform at least the most basic tasks essential for survival. As I rose from the seat I had been embedded in for the past seven hours, and hazily shuffled across the staff room to the coffee machine, I noticed row upon row of small blue boxes had been lain out on the cluster of desks that take up much of the centre of the staff room. Several teachers were peering inquisitively at the boxes, which had been numbered 1 – 201 in black marker, and my own curiosity drew me to join them. It turned out that the small boxes contained Personal Safety Alarms, one for each girl in the school. I must say I was a little surprised by this, as Gonohe is hardly a cesspool of crime. I wondered if the move to equip the students with the alarms was a response to the recent murder of a young school girl in Hiroshima. However, after asking around I discovered that the decision had actually been made several months ago, intended as a measure to protect female students against the perceived growing crime rate in Japan.

It is true that security in Japanese schools is perhaps not as tight as in some other countries. None of the schools I have visited in my time here have been fitted with video cameras, certainly not that I have noticed, and people can usually enter and leave school buildings unchecked with relative ease. Gonohe junior high school does have an intercom which visitors are meant to call on to gain approval to enter the school, but you don't have to be a meandering psychopath to work out how to circumnavigate that security feature. One of the most interesting security measures I have heard of in Japan is the giant prong that some schools are equipped with. The idea is that if some random Johnny Nutcase decides that he wants to pay a special visit to a school classroom, the kids can stop the intruder dead in his tracks by pinning him against the wall using the two pronged pitch forkesque instrument. Although Gonohe junior High school doesn't have any of the Paedoforks, I have heard that they are relatively common throughout the country.

It is obvious that girls have been deemed to be most at risk, as none of the boys were fortunate enough to be give one of the alarms Gonohe Junior High has just purchased. According to one of the teachers, it was agreed that the male students are able to fend for themselves, although I'm not exactly sure why the staff think that a 12 year old boy would be any better placed to fend off and adult attacker than a girl of the same age.

Of course the necessity of tight security measures in schools is highly debatable, and one unavoidable fact remains: it is not always random strangers from outwith schools who are a danger to students. In one high profile case down south two years ago, an unruly student, who had been fooling around in class, was forced by his teacher to write a hand written apology using his own blood. When the head teacher of the school where this took place found out, he invited the student's parents in to make a desperate apology. Somewhat incredibly, no criminal prosecution resulted from this incident, as both the parents and the student apparently deemed that the punishment had been fitting.

In another worrying incident, I recently heard from a fellow ALT how she went to a Bon Enkai (an important end of year office party) along with the staff of her town's Board of Education, only to discover that they would be enjoying the evening in the company of some young women who had been brought in especially, all of whom were dressed in sexy novelty costumes, one of which was a school girl's uniform. This was perhaps not the most fitting conduct for people whose job directly concerns the welfare of children.

Whether or not the new Personal Safety Alarms are really necessary for the students of Gonohe I'm not so certain, but having them certainly won't do any harm. On one hand the Japanese seem to have managed to avoid the hysteria that has caused some European and American schools to resemble prisons; on the other hand they have put pitch forks in their classrooms. Obviously the schools need to take reasonable precautionary measures to protect the kids (the boys as well as the girls presumably), but it isn't in anyone's interest to frighten the children thinking that the streets are too dangerous to walk. I guess striking the balance between taking an overly relaxed position and overreacting to imaged threats is a difficult one. However, I'm not so sure if Paedoforks are the way forward.

Hospitalised

2005-11-16T23:33:00.000+09:00

I was in hospital today, after almost a week spent feeling rather poorly. The doctor I had my consultation with wasn't exactly sure what was wrong with me, so he had my chest X-rayed followed by a cardiograph scan. This was to make sure that I didn't have either a heart condition or some disease of the lung, which had an exotic name I can't recall. The whole procedure took a couple of hours and cost me around 3000 yen. Yet, thankfully, the diagnosis was good, and after the doctor scanned over the results of the tests he able to deduce that I in fact had a common cold or mild Bronchitis. Such a series of procedures may sound strange for what are essentially trivial ailments, but Japanese hospitals can often be weird places to visit.

You see here in Japan there isn't the same system of local family clinics as we have in the UK; if you're sick in Japan, it's off to hospital with you, like it or not. My first visit to a Japanese hospital wasn't actually intended. Having caught a rather nasty cold, I had visited my office to ask if someone was available who could come along with me to the local Pharmacy and help me buy some medicine. Given that I can't read Japanese, I didn't want to chance buying medication on my own, as there was a very real danger that I could be confused by the labeling and end up purchasing a tube of Anusol to try and combat my sore throat. The minute I entered the room, the entire staff of the office began circling me, each individual offering his or her own personal diagnoses of my condition. After about 15 unnecessary minutes of poking, prodding and incessant questioning, my co-workers decided that my cold was bad enough to warrant a visit to hospital. Needless to say I protested, I was after all only really after a pack of Lemsips or some other over-the-counter medication. However, my reluctance was ignored and I was whisked off to the nearest hospital, a decrepit and mangy old building that looked about the last place on earth that you would want to enter in order to improve your health.

Once inside the hospital, the first thing the staff wanted to do with me was to take a blood sample. I told my supervisor I wasn't keen, and anyway was it really that necessary for a common cold. She had a word with the nurses and I was thankfully spared having the needle stuck in my vein. Next came the consultation with the doctor, who concluded, after I exhaustively listed all my symptoms, that I did indeed have a cold. He prescribed me 10 different types of medicine to cure me of my ills, a goody bag of lotions and potions which resembled the contents of a beginner's chemistry set more closely than anything I had ever been prescribed back in Scotland. The little white paper bag I received contained pills of various colours and sizes, including a pack of little white grain shaped pills that looked just like cake decorations, a small bottle of brown ooze that had the consistency of glue which I was supposed to gargle on the hour, and, somewhat curiously, there was a blister pack of capsules named “Twat”. I decided to give my Japanese medicine a try, and so each day for about a week I closed my eyes and braved swallowing the fist full of drugs. However, a week on, when my cold had completely failed to improve whatsoever, I decided to see the illness out without the assistance of any medication.

Today's hospital visit was essentially a replay of that first visit I made last year. For the past week I have been suffering from a bad cold and have generally felt a bit run down. I had planned on just weathering the storm, but the prospect of a terminally boring day spent at school without any classes to teach made the possibility of a hospital visit seem rather attractive. As Japanese people appear to never die, the waiting room was jam packed with nonagenarians waiting for their daily injection of blood. However, after a relatively short wait I got to see my regular doctor who told me that he wanted to do the X-rays so that he could rule out lung disease straight away. Once I had the all clear, and my cold was diagnosed, I was sent home with 4 new medicines intended to usher me back to good health. But I think I'll probably just pop them in the cupboard alongside the “Twat”.

2005-10-29T16:09:00.000+09:00

Never believe Japanese road signs

The Town Gaijin

2005-10-26T23:11:00.000+09:00

It's probably not that surprising for you to hear that there aren't a lot of foreigners living here in Gonohe. Out of a total population of 25,000 I think the town's non-Japanese population can't number much more than 50. There's me, of course, then there are two other ALTs, both of whom are American. There is also rumoured to be one other American, a man married to a local Japanese girl, who lives in town but works on the nearby American military base. In my year and a half living in Gonohe I have never bumped into the fellow, but his picture occasionally crops up in the local newsletter we all get delivered to our homes, so he must exist somewhere. And that is pretty much it as far as English speakers go in town; one Scot, one Norwegian American, one Chinese American, and one Elusive American. The rest of Gonohe's foreign population is largely made of Filipinos and Mongolians, most of whom are females working in the local snack bars.

The snack bar girls are even more elusive than Gonohe's mysterious 3^rd American. I assume that as the girls spend most evenings working late into the night entertaining the local menfolk, they are likely to use the daytime to catch up on much needed sleep. Once or twice a year I do spot the Filipinos out and about town, when they tend to head out in large, luminescentlly dressed, groups. Needless to say they stick out a little as they walk the streets, not so much because of their ethnicity, but more because it's so unusual to see people in their early twenties anywhere in Gonohe (although the bright clothes don't help things). The Mongolians, who are fewer in number, aren't as instantly recognisable as being non-Japanese, and as such are less conspicuous when out and about town. As I live just down the road from 'Mongol' (the name of the Mongolian snack bar) I am sure I must have walked past at least some them without noticing.

Several former snack bar girls from Gonohe's Filipino bar have gone on to marry local Japanese men, and I occasionally meet them when they're picking up their kids from school. There are also some Chinese women living in town married to local men, many of whom work in the Chinese restaurants dotted about town. Just last weekend I was at a school festival, and I got the shock of my life when a first grader I was eating lunch with casually sparked up a conversation with me by saying in perfect English “I'm Chinese....(silent pause as Ewen looks shocked that a first grader is using English without physical coercion)........yeah, my mum is from north of Peking”. I had no idea the kid was Chinese. On top of that there are also a number of families in Gonohe who have recently arrived from Manchuria in China, ethnic Japanese decedents of settlers in what was once a Japanese colonial possession exercising their legal right to return to the land of their ethnic kindred.

The final addition to the melting pot that isn't Gonohe is our local Mexican, a lovely woman who moved to Gonohe many years ago after marrying her Japanese husband that she met in Mexico. Being Mexican she must, like me, be somewhat of an unknown quantity to the Japanese. Amongst the nations of the world, the Japanese and the Scots haven't exactly had the greatest deal of interaction. Sure, there are a few examples of cultural exchange; like most Asians, the Japanese can be fond of the odd drop of whiskey and an occasional round of golf - for those who can afford it. Tartan, or 'check' as it's known here, is fairly popular too, although skirts are strictly for women in the land of the rising sun. Probably the only famous Scot that a Japanese person is likely to be able to name is Nessie, and perhaps at a push, Sean Connery. Saying that, I guess we're not a lot better back home; ask someone in Glasgow to name a famous Japanese person, and more likely than not the response will be 'Mr Miyagi' or 'that pure mad wee guy oot a' Goonies wi aw the gadgets'.

It doesn't really matter anyway, Japanese people almost always tend to assume when they see white foreigners, that they are American. This is fueled in part by the fairly widespread worldview held in Japan, which separates the outside world into five geographical categories; 'China', 'Korea', 'The Philippines', 'America', and 'Assorted Others' (a category which is often simply labeled 'America' for convenience sake) . Although recently a sixth category, 'Iraq' has been added thanks to the ongoing war there. Technically I fall into the 'Assorted Others' category, but given my ethnicity, I am usually placed in the 'America' category whether I like it or not.

Occasionally I do protest, and point out that not only am I not American, but I have also never even visited there. Japanese people often seem to think you're being petty if you protest at being called American, but I try my hardest to point out that Scotland and America really are quite different. If I'm lucky this may extract a concession, usually this is that they will accept that I come from England (the Japanese have a word for Scotland but not one exclusively for the UK, the whole of which, much to my despair, is simply called England), and if I ask extra politely they will possibly concede to my being Scottish. Trying to point out that I am not actually English can also be regarded as petty.

Of course, I appreciate that more often than not Western foreigners in Japan are indeed American, so I never let it bother me too much. The assumption that your American also has the benefit that if I ever make some sort of gaffe regarding etiquette, or get really drunk and embarrass myself publicly, it won't do anything to damage to Scotland's image. However, it is a bit annoying when a kid that you have taught for a year and a half (and given various talks about Scotland to during this time) continues say “ah, American joke” when you tell a gag. It also makes me wonder where exactly the legions of camera totting Japanese tourists, who I saw regularly back home, come from. I guess living in a very poor and rural part of Japan there are likely to be fewer people who have the means to travel abroad.

Being one of the town gaijin can bring it's benefits; at any town event I attend I will almost inevitably have 15-20 beers/glasses of sake shoved into my hand whether I like it or not, also people are sometimes extra friendly to me as I'm somewhat of a local celebrity, and occasionally people even give me little gifts. It can also be quite funny sometimes being one of the lone foreigners. Because Japan is primarily a cash economy, I often find my pockets rapidly bulging with spare change. Keen to lighten myself of this burden, whenever I visit shops I like to use my small change to pay part of the bill. In Japanese culture this practice is not common, most probably because you can simply dump your loose change into Japanese ATMs and they will sort and deposit the money straight into your bank account there and then. However, I was never too bothered about ditching the odd fistful of coppers when at the counter, until last week when I noticed that every checkout in the local supermarket now has a small sign in Japanese and English stating “Sorry we cannot accept large amounts of small change”. As there are only 3 other English speaking gaijin in town, I have a feeling that sign was directed at me. Not to worry, if anyone asks I can always tell them it's the American way.

2005-10-18T21:50:00.000+09:00

Japanese Gods

Ewen's Guide To Learning Japanese

2005-10-17T19:30:00.000+09:00

Following on from my latest blog where I looked at some of the difficulties faced when studying Japanese, I would like to offer my guide to learning Japanese, for those who are new to the language or simply have an interest in it. Now I'm no expert, but nearly a year and a half spent in the land of the rising sun has taught me a thing or two about learning Japanese, and the potential pitfalls you can face. So here are my 5 top tips to becoming 'pera pera' (fluent):

Tip 1. Don't be afraid to make an arse of yourself: I remember my mate Gordon took a one hour Spanish class when we went on holiday to Cuba a few years ago. Keen to employ his newly acquired vocabulary, Gordon managed to land us in a rather awkward and confusing situation when he told a bemused Cuban peasant in Spanish, that he had “a thousand arses” (he was actually trying to tell poor fellow that we didn't want to pay
an exorbitant 20 dollars to stay in his mangy shack). Needless to say he embarrassed himself a bit there, but those kind of slip-ups are inevitable when you don't have a full mastery of a language. When learning a new tongue it is always necessary to be a bit game and just try your best to communicate. The occasional, or even frequent, mistake is inevitable. Only a few months ago I accidentally asked a little boy if he was a girl, when I actually meant to ask him if he was a good football player. Mistakes can be embarrassing but usually they are simply amusing.

Tip 2: Never talk to small children: It's not only Michael Jackson who thinks that chatting with little kids is a good idea. For the Japanese learner it seems like a great opportunity to practice a little bit of the language with someone who is likely to speak in a very basic manner. However, while this might seem like a good idea, in practice talking with young children can often result in tangled and confusing mess. The first problem comes from the fact that young kids can't really grasp the concept that you are not fully proficient in their language; as a result kids, unlike adults, rarely make any adjustment to simplify their spoken Japanese. It's true that children are unlikely to be talking about anything particularly complex, yet neither are they prone to following a particularly logical train of though. Following what young kids are on about can be hard enough without a language barrier, throw in the fact that you are constantly trying to translate everything in your head, and suddenly it becomes very difficult to work out how the conversation just jumped from little Shota telling you that he got a new puppy last week to him now telling you that he has a particularly large bogey wedged up his nostril.

Tip 3: Make up your own words: New words are being created all the time in languages all over the world, as old ones succumb to the fashions of the era. When I visited Australia last winter, I was amazed to discover that the Ozzies have nearly invented a whole new language by simply abbreviating every single word in the English language. New words might be adopted because they are shorter to say, easier to pronounce, or because they express something with more accuracy than existing words could have. It's always good when staying in a country to have a stab at making some new words of your own, be it solely for your own entertainment. Since coming to Japan I have adopted three new words as staple parts of my vocabulary: 'diajobes', 'muzakashers' and 'domers', which have all inadvertently crept into the everyday Japanese used by me and some of my mates. These three words are mutations of the Japanese words diajobu (ok) , muzukashii (difficult), and domo (thanks). Quite why we have come to use these terms I 'm not sure, especially as we use them in exactly the same way as their Japanese counterparts; maybe it's simply because they seem to roll off the tongue more easily. Making your own words won't necessary help you communicate – especially if you forget that they're not actually a real words and start using them in everyday encounters – but it will provide some marginal level of personal entertainment.

Tip 4. Just pronounce English in a stupid way: One of the fantastic features of the Japanese language is that many of the words are simply English loanwords which have had been tweaked to make them pronounceable by a Japanese person. Indeed there are around 20,000 English loanwords in use in everyday spoken Japanese. While some words do deviate quite considerably from the original source, such as 'puroresu' or 'eakon' which come from the English words 'Professional Wrestling' and 'air conditioning' respectively, many others still closely resemble the original English word, such as 'mineraru-wota' (mineral water), 'painappuri' (pineapple) or 'takushi'(taxi). Whenever you're stuck for a word in Japanese it's always worth just having a stab at pronouncing the English word in a Japanesey way. If your lucky you will hit gold and be understood, and if not you will look a bit of an idiot. But the success rate is high enough to make it worth trying.

Tip 5. Learn pointless vocabulary: Stupid words have incredible mileage in any language and slipping them into conversation can act as an ice-breaker when you first meet people, entertain the kids when you are teaching in school, and sometimes even prove useful in conversation. It's always fun when at the counter in a supermarket to shock the Japanese till attendant by telling them that you're a 'peasant' while your counting your small change. I have found that the Japanese words for 'aristocrat', 'peasant', 'barbarian', 'nouveau riche', and 'head lice' are particularly amusing. You might not be able to tell someone how many sisters you have, but mention that your an aristocrat and they will be most impressed that you have somehow learned such a random Japanese word.

Note: It's probably best to ignore Tip 3

Nihon Woe

2005-10-11T17:16:00.000+09:00

For most English speakers Japanese is an intimidating tongue to learn. With it's complex and unfamiliar written script, and a grammatical structure wholly unfamiliar to the English speaker, Japanese places along with Chinese, Arabic and the click languages of Southern Africa in the CIA's ranking of languages most difficult for a native English speaker to learn. Obviously I have little choice as to whether I want to use Japanese or not; I need to use it in school, at the office, when at the shops, and in nearly every other aspect of my daily life here in Gonohe. Of course, it's always impressive how far you can get by without using spoken language; the odd gesture here and there can communicate a surprising amount. Just take for example one time I visited the local car dealership where I rented my car from. As I walked into the reception area I noticed that the owner was dressed completely in black garb, looked a little flustered and was evidently in a bit of a hurry. I politely inquired in Japanese where she was going, but, as is often the case, I couldn't understand the response that she gave. However, we persevered, and although it took some seriously animated gestures, and the repeated use of the word 'fire', I finally managed to work out that she was about to depart for a cremation. This, and many other incidents like it, are just part and parcel of the difficult experience of picking up a new language, and learning Japanese is certainly not a breeze.

Pronouncing spoken Japanese is not really a problem for the English speaker, as nearly all the sounds that exist in Japanese are also found in English, but the unfamiliar grammar of Japanese can really throw people. Where English sentences are structured SVO (Subject, Verb, Object), Japanese uses a SOV (Subject, Object, Verb) structure – and often drops the subject altogether. So where in English you would say 'I read a book', in Japanese you would say 'Watashi wa hon o yonda' (lit. 'I book read'). This in itself is difficult enough, but throw into the bargain that verbs conjugate differently depending on the degree of politeness that is intended, and you start to see why many would be students of Japanese end up contemplating harakiri.

The second great hurdle for the student of Japanese is mastering the written scripts; all three of them. Japanese is written using two phonetic syllabic scripts of Japanese origin, Hiragana and Katakana, both with 48 characters each, and also kanji, an ideographic script borrowed from the Chinese in the 6^th century (although the two languages are entirely unrelated). Some words are written entirely in kana, others entirely in kanji, and others in a combination of the two. Picking up Hiragana and Katakana doesn't take too long with a bit of study, but kanji, with it's thousands of characters, can take years to master. It is a testimony to the difficulty of kanji that whenever you tell a Japanese person that you are struggling in your study of it, they almost always retort that Japanese people find kanji very difficult too. You could hardly imagine an English speaker going “aww yeah, the alphabet is really tricky for me too”.

The Japanese really aren't always the most sporting bunch when it comes to making things easy for learners. For a start they can't seem to settle on the best way to write down their language. Usually Japanese is written right to left vertically, but occasionally they write it horizontally from left to right like English, and until it fell from fashion it used to be common to write from right to left when writing horizontally. Confused? It's understandable if you are. This is perhaps compensated for my the generosity of spirit that is show by nearly all Japanese people when you display even the slightest effort to speak their language. Japanese people tend to think that it is impossible for them to fully master English, and as such they also don't expect foreigners to be able to master Japanese. While it does sometimes occur that certain individuals are so overcome with disbelief that a gaijin (foreigner) has just spoken Japanese to them, that they simply freeze up and are unable to muster a response, most normal Japanese people will greet even the feeblest stab at Japanese by a foreigner with an exclamation of “Nihon go joozu!” (your Japanese is great!).

This commonplace compliment has actually become a bit of a joke amongst the foreign community living in Japan, as it appears that no amount of Japanese is too small to be rewarded by it's utterance. My friends and I have set ourselves a bit of a challenge to see what the smallest amount of Japanese you can say is to provoke the “nihon go joozu!” response. My record so far is the time I walked into a Korean food restaurant and greeted the owners by simply saying “kombanwa” (good evening). That was all it took, straight away I was being complemented on my impressive mastery of Japanese, despite the fact I couldn't even order an orange juice.

Twice a week I have classes where I study Japanese, and in December I will be traveling south to Sendai to have my abilities tested. It hasn't been easy trying to learn the language, for all the reasons described above, but I have come a long way given that I came to the country with no Japanese whatsoever. They say you know that you have really got good at Japanese when people stop complimenting your speaking and actually start to criticise your mistakes. I think I have a long while to enjoy being praised yet.

2005-10-11T17:15:00.000+09:00

Not the easiest language to learn

Why am I here?

2005-10-04T17:05:00.000+09:00

When I originally applied for the JET programme last year, there was a section of the application form where you could select your preferred location for placement within Japan. The options meant could pick if you wanted and rural or an urban placement, asked if you would rather a town instead of a city, you could select which prefecture most captured your fancy, and indeed you could even request to be put in a specific town, city or village. Making a selection wasn't actually mandatory, but was rather just a measure to accommodate those applicants who had preferences.

I never did write down a request. Truth be told I didn't really know enough about the country to make a proper decision about where I would have wanted to be, but I thought to myself that I would have an interesting time wherever I was placed. So when I discovered that I was going to be sent to Aomori, I really didn't know quite what to expect. As a rule of thumb, those people most likely to make a specific request for placement are the ones who have visited Japan before. Those individuals are much more likely to have a feel for what different prefectures within the country are like, and occasionally people chose to return to areas that they have previously lived in. Although some of those who are undertaking their first outing to Japan do write down places like Hokkaido, Sapporo, Tokyo or some other well know location as their preferred placements, by and large this category of applicants tend to submit themselves to the luck of the draw and don't make any specific request for placement - perhaps, the main exception to this is that a lot of people might not request a specific location within Japan, but they do ask to be placed within a city or town (this is especially common amongst people who don't drive).

Many of the placements on JET are rural. As the vast majority of JET applicants are usually city or town dwellers, and given that adjusting to rural living can be difficult, the interview process for JET presses hard when questioning applicants about whether they really think they could handle a year living in the Japanese countryside. Although this wasn't a concern of the interviewing panel when I applied for JET; coming from a small village on the least densely populated inhabited island in Scotland, I must have been amongst the few applicants who the panel actually contemplated warning “Ewen, you are aware that there may actually be more than 1000 people in your town?”.

Very very few people actually make a specific request to be placed in Aomori ken, and those who do are usually condemned to endure countless inquiries of “Why the hell did you CHOOSE Aomori?” from their fellow JETs for the duration of their stay. Aomori is the very embodiment
of the Japanese word 'inaka' (countryside), a land where a fading generation of farmers are engaged in a a dying way of life; most of whom are subsidised by the government to tend their assorted crops. Famous only for Apples, a funny dialect that resembles a French person trying to speak Welsh, and the ominous shared title of being the poorest prefecture in Japan (with a GDP of around 7000 pounds a year) Aomori is hardly a Mecca for a youth of Japan. These factors have no doubt contributed to creating a demographic where the average age appears to be somewhere between 87 and dead. To be honest I'm amazed there are kids to teach at all in the ken given the deficit of youth.

It seems that the JET programme appears to take the approach that if they can't put you in the exact location you selected, then you will be quite content to be simply placed relatively near to it. That too often is the sad tale of the Aomori ALT. Seduced by the prospect of year round outdoor pursuits, enticed by the vast open sprawls of near pristine wilderness, the Aomori ALT all too often is in fact a failed Hokkaido requester. While Aomori might be sitting right by Hokkaido, I don't think there can be two parts of Japan next to each other that could possibly be more different. Hokkaido is generally perceived as the vibrant frontier of Japan, widely coated in pristine wilderness, with a wealth of outdoor pursuits available, and at it's centre, Sapporo it's glimmering metropolis, which draws young people for around the country. Aomori on the other hand is perhaps better suited to those with more rustic tastes. With it's heavily concreted landscape and frequently shack-like housing, the prefecture has a somewhat Soviet air about it. The only people Aomori is likely to attract are doctors looking to profit from it's abundance of pensioners. All a far cry from Sapporo.

Exactly how the powers that be decided to put me in Aomori I can't be certain. Most probably it was a fairly random process, whereby those who haven't specifically requested to be put in a city are farmed out to fill the many posts in the nether-regions. However, and it's just a theory, an awful lot of Canadians and Scottish JETs seem to get to get sent north into the inaka. This has raised suspicions amongst some of us that the Japanese, who have a tendency to work off stereotypes, seem to think that we will fare better in the colder less densely populated parts of the country. Perhaps they're right, the Ozzies and Jamaicans take the harsh winters pretty badly apparently, unaccustomed as they are to low temperatures of the season – never mind the neck high snowfalls.

So there are many different reasons why people end up in Aomori; some of us simple offered our fates to fortune, whilst other unfortunate souls were sent here as some sort of perverted compensation conjured up by some evil genius, so that they could stare longingly out to sea trying to catch a glimpse of not so distant Hokkaido, and there are even a few masochists who actually chose to come here. We're a motley crew, but I think we've all grown to love it......well some of us.