Friday, November 29, 2002

*... salvation ...*
This country may have a little sense after all. Last night I braved the ice and wind to walk over to the newly opened Baskin Robbins with the glimmer of hope shining dimly in my heart. I didn't want to wish for too much. But as I walked in and perused the selections, there it was, in the corner at the end of the display, the very last vat I laid eyes on: ROCKY ROAD. My heart did a little leap. So I ordered a scoop, with a base of Jamoca Almond Fudge, too.
I fear, however, that this joy may be shortlived. A couple of reasons for that: 1) they just now opened the store, when it is quite cold and promises only to get colder. Who's going to buy ice cream then (besides me, I mean?) 2) Despite the usual assortment of American flavors, and the added Japanese style ones (like Matcha and Azuki), they had very strange-named ones that I was fearful to try, like a bright grean and black one called "Throw Down", an orange-y one called "Kick It" and a banana-flavor plus who-knows-what called "Monkey Mash" that was thrust at me on a small pink sample spoon by an eager counter attendant. 3) Umm, hello, PRICES! A quart of ice cream, whatever flavor, cost the equivalent of $15 USdollars. And, if you wanted to take home a variety pack, 12 scoops of ice cream, 12 different flavors that come in a cupcake tin-like plastic divider, it was 3100 yen or about $25. So we know that I will not be single-handedly supporting this Baskin Robbins through the long, cold winter. So time will tell how this little enterprise lasts... hmm....
But at least it's here and available should I get desperate for a taste of home... now if I can only find a 'berto's or Cotix's around the corner, I will be soooo set.
9:10 AM

Thursday, November 28, 2002

*... when in rome ...*
You know you're in a different place when you have to leave little reminders to yourself that say "britt, unplug the carpet" or "did you turn off the toilet?" That's when you also know that it is getting COLD.
I have decided that there are a couple of things that I have to do while in Japan, regardless of price or actual desire to do them. Things like visit somewhere in South East Asia, go to a salon, try an onsen... stuff like that. Last night I tried out a Japanese hair salon, dyed my hair red on red. I tried to find one that was reasonably priced and not to scared about the language difference. Pictures helped. Now here's a concept that I think could be improved on: when shampooing, they stick a tissue like thing over your eyes, I guess so you're not staring up the nostrils of your shampooer. But I think they should give you eye gels or cucumbers or teabags or something. That would be cool. Anyway, they had to shampoo me twice (after the bleach and after the dye) and there I got the best head scratches EVER. Like better-than-a-boyfriend kind of good feeling. I loooove head scratches. Then they give you a head/neck/shoulder massage in the chair. Very nice, though a little weird, since you're facing a full length mirror, and there's really no where to look except at the Japanese guy giving you the massage and staring at himself in the mirror. Overall a good experience, except when they stuck their fingers in my ears.
Speaking of invasion, I have no privacy here at Koshin. My supervisor is one of those typical Japanese supervisors they warn you about, the kind that really doesn't understand you and thinks you can do nothing on your own. When I asked her if I could use the computer, she walked me over to it (I knew where it was) and started Explorer (I knew how to use it) and then stood there while she watched me type an email. After reading over my shoulder and asking who I was sending it to, she determined that I was capable of handling the machine by myself. She still comes over and reads what I write to people, and has to know who it is going to. Dude, bug off, lady! She is starting to get on my nerves, but mainly I think because she is the first person I have to deal with in the morning, when I am grumpy from getting up so early, and she has little faith in the other teachers or students around her, giving them way less credit in their English abilities than I do. The other 2 teachers I have are interesting, one I sit next to and has great energy. Turns out that she didn't even want to be an English teacher, she wants to be a sports journalist. But she is great with the kids. The other is just plain nuts, she spends half the class going "really? REALLY? I don't knooooow, I don't knooooow" to the kids. And she says "Ffffuuuuuu" for the word "who". I have to bite my tongue on that one. She likes to grab the students by the shoulders and shake them a bit, too. Weird.
Bodies are one thing that the Japanese don't really consider. I am a pretty affectionate person, but if a teacher ever wrapped their arms around my waist, I would probably be screaming and they would probably be fired. But the Japanese don't really consider bodies (their own or each other's) something to be concerned about. In fact, at the dojo I visit, everyone changes in front of each other. Kids and grown men stripped down to their boxers, walking around like it's nothing. At home, I get yelled at for flashing my sports bra as I change my shirt. Sheesh!

9:50 AM

Tuesday, November 26, 2002

*... ch-ch-ch-changes ...*
Although this is only my second day at Koshin JHS, there are some pretty big differences between it and Miyaura JHS. The most major is distance. On a bike day, I could get to Miyaura in 10 minutes, maybe 20-25 walking. Now I have to take a bus to Koshin, an hour total travel time. So that means waking up earlier and getting home later. Needless to say I am pretty tired after day 2 here. Another notable and terribly amusing difference is during sojii (when the kids clean the school), Miyaura would play classical or Japanese folk songs. Yesterday I freaked out some of the people in the teachers' room during sojii when I busted out laughing and singing along to such classics as "Oops! I Did It Again", "Jeremiah Was a Bullfrog (Joy to the World)", and, in a throwback to my drunken tour guide in China, the BSB "Everyboooodeee (yeah!), Rock your booooody (yeah!)". That's a bit off-Japanese, if you ask me.
The kids here are awfully genki (energetic). I mean they SCREAM when I walk down the hall or into a class, and today I had about 14 first years ask me to sign their English Books. Maybe they should have played N*Sync's "Celebrity" during sojii... And the teachers are so not humble, that it is getting a little embarrassing, actually. "We have the best kids", "They are better than Miyaura, aren't they?" and every 5 minutes, the principal asks "No problems, right?". I know that this is just another one of those cultural idiosyncracies, but one of these days I am going to bust out with "No, actually Miyaura is a WAY better school." just to see what they do. At least I don't have to deal with the "Mee-stah" problem anymore, since all 3 of the teachers here are women. I can avoid being called an ugly man for one more semester... baby steps, folks. Baby steps.
1:51 PM

Sunday, November 24, 2002

*... brown paper packages ...*
(title today inspired, actually pirated, from my dad) I received the box o' stuff that my parents sent me, filled with clothes and egg noodles and lots of fun stuff. This was supposed to be the package to chase me to Japan, but it wasn't so much of a chase as it was a wait... 5 weeks and one dock strike later, I got it, although not quite in the box-like shape I imagine it probably started out as. So now I am wearing a fluffy white jacket, warm tan shoes, and my favortist hat ever, all courtesy of the package that arrived by a very tired Japanese man at 10:30 this morning (on a Sunday??). The poor thing had to lug all 41 pounds up 2 flights of stairs. I would have tipped him if I wasn't in my pajamas. And if it wasn't Japan (no tips!)
I have become quite accustomed to Engrish phrases lately, but today I saw a brother and sister pair wearing the funniest sweatshirts. The little boy was wearing a zip-up that said "drugstories" and the little girl had a college-style pullover that had the letters "PMS" on it, with "Authentic since 1971" written through the middle. I politely waited until they were out of ear-shot before busting up...
4:11 PM