Tuesday, December 20, 2005

This weather is godawful. It was raining for 24 straight days, and it has been snowing for the last four. I believe we have an accumulated foot and a half of snow lying about everywhere, and the liquid equivalent of a foot and a half of snow (plus whatever those ridiculous street sprinklers pump out) swamping every street. The rain-snow is sucking my will to live.

Rob, my predecessor, has been a great asset to me in everything Toyama. He sold me a very well outfitted apartment at a very reasonable price, he threw in a car, he has given me solid tips on everything from bars to heating, but there is one aspect of Toyama life that he failed to impress upon me: this goddamn weather. "Bring a raincoat," he said, "it tends to rain here." Tends to rain? To hell with the raincoat! Bring waders! Bring a wetsuit! Bring diving gear! Now in all fairness, and from what I've heard, last year's was a much tamer winter, and the rainy season was just that, a season...not a half year. Nonetheless, what am I going to tell my successor? How can I look that poor kid in the eye and not tell him that whoever colonized this place was completely batshit insane? I just hope whoever my succesor is (and it probably will be a guy, the ALT's at Koho have been male for at least the past five years) finds the blog first, and spares me the sobering task of having to inform him:

New Guy: "Hey! I heard you have a beach near you! That's awesome!"
Me: "Beach?"
New Guy: "Yeah, what's it like?"
Me: "Oh, a beach, right. Well, hell I don't even know if it's there anymore, really. In fact, you should probably forget all about that. Also, bring waders."
New Guy: "What?"

Aside from making everybody wet all the time, the weather has the annoying effect of holing everybody up. It's not exactly a party-starter. However, this past weekend a nice family of Japanese people that knew Rob invited me and Bryan to eat and drink at their place. It was a lot of fun, and an interesting look in to the world of domestic Japan. The family has two kids, each of them two years old. They apologized for the leather couch we were sitting on because one day last week, apparently, the mother left the room and when she returned the kids had taken both a black and a blue pen to the whole thing. It was a complete and total job. Every square inch of the couch had some color of pen running through it. I said not to worry, it looked professional. Bryan said he thought it was the pattern of the decor, and never would have noticed if they hadn't pointed it out. I guess two-year olds are the same worldwide.

We sang karaoke with them for three hours, and they were driving Bryan and I to our respective homes when we asked if they would be so kind as to drop us off at the bars in the red-light district instead, it was saturday night, after all. They were happy to oblige. The snow was falling heavily at this point, so we ran to this Rock bar, only to find the proprietors on their way out. We looked so miserable and sad, however, that they agreed to open up shop again for one drink, which turned in to two before we made ourselves leave out of propriety; they would have, no doubt, stayed open all night just for us. Bless the Japanese service industry. (Plus, Bryan teaches their little girl at Higashi High School)

One thing lead to another and soon enough it was 7am. We had exhausted one of the more popular bars, Penny Black, and were exhausted ourselves. Bryan decided to head on home (and subesquently slept through his stop three consecutive times), but the weather being as terrible as it was, and since I had to go bowling in town again at noon that day, I decided to stay up all night rather than walk home for an hour of sleep before having to turn around again. It is with this experience in mind that I bring to you:

The All-Nighter's Guide to Toyama Station and its Immediate Surroundings!!!

So friend, you've decided to stay out all night? Well, let this guide ease you in to the next day as gently as the smell of Folgers in the morning.

First and foremost, the station itself: Don't look for warmth in the bathrooms, you won't find any. However, the station bathrooms are fairly clean. If you are planning on staying for several nights, you can probably rent out the pay toilet, but that's never a good option since no matter how clean they are, station toilets always smell like tinkle. Rather, I would suggest to you go in to the small waiting room by the Soba Shop. It is a warm place, and the TV is always on. If you can sleep sitting up, feel free to grab an hours worth of intermittent cat naps on one of the many octagonal cushions in the middle of the room. Go ahead, people won't mind. Most of them are bums like you. Especially that real bum that often sleeps, laying down, across all of the cushions. You could ask him to leave, I suppose, but have a heart, the guy has no shoes for crying out loud.

Need some entertainment? Don't try the bowling alley, you silly ass, It's closed until 10am. I found this one out the hard way. I sat staring into its unfathomable darkness at 8am when I ran into one of the employees coming to clean for opening. She smiled that smile you smile at insane people that you half pity, and told me come back at 10. Buck up, though, kiddo. There is still much to do in the twilight hours of the morning! Might I suggest grabbing a hearty meal of mystery meat at Yoshinoyas? Always friendly, always warm, always cheap. Take a load off.

So you've eaten, you catnapped, you've walked about, but you still need to kill some time before you go bowling at 10am? Why not try Mr. Donuts? The family friendly atmosphere, rockin' music, and bottomless coffee make Mr. Donuts a must see for the all-nighter. Every twenty minutes or so one of the nice worker-ladies will walk around with a pot of coffee, filling up anyone who looks tired. Believe me, they will fill you up as long as you sit there. I sat there for over an hour, and they just kept coming! Four steaming cups of coffee later you might still be shaking when you step outside, but it won't be from the cold!

Cap off the remaining half of an hour before Golden Bowl opens with a quick visit to The Circle K across the street. Peruse the 999 yen movie selection while you grab a bottle of champaigne and some OJ. It's time to bowl.

Pop the cork and sip on some mamosas whilst you warm up your bowling arm for your 12pm engagement. When all is said and done, you will have been awake for over thirty hours! Kick back and relax, friend. You deserve it.

Saturday, December 10, 2005

I've had my first Japanese enkai experience and it pretty much turned out how I expected it to, that is, rather drunken and fairly sloppy.

Every year the teachers at Koho High School throw a party called bon enkai, which literally means "party to forget." Now, what exactly this refers to was the subject of many increasingly drunken jokes throughout the night by various teachers. At first it was "a party to forget this year and look forward to the next," then it was "a party to forget about work and relax," then it was "a party to help us forget about those damn students," then, inevitably, it was, "a party that i will totally forget."

It started with the traditional toast, I couldn't understand any of it, but I went along nonetheless. Following that about 10 different teachers and co-workers started working the room, never allowing a glass to be even 1/4 empty. I would knock back several sips of beer in a toast to one person just as another came up to me and offered to fill me up again, and toast again. Needless to say I was completely out of the park in about 10 minutes. I was volunteered to play this game where i picked up as many beans as I could with chopsticks in the span of three minutes. I got eleven. Eleven. That is less than four beans per minute. My principle got 43. I also sang a rather in-your-face version of Hotel California in front of God and everybody; my screaming talent stunned many a meek teacher. I would go so far as to say that most of them were not ready for my wicked use of the microphone as an air guitar during Felder and Walsh's infamous rif. One person, however, totally dug it: My Principle. He came up to me afterward and said,

"Brad-Sensei, you are not only a teacher, you are also an artist."

Bitchin.

At the end of part 1 of the party (thats right, part 1) the vice principle stood up and announced that everyone was going to do a bonsai chant for Koho High. Apparently the meaning of bonsai is not soley restricted to "I'm gonna slam my Zero into the side of your boat," it can also mean "cheers." Go figure.

Anyway, after this I proceeded on with a steadily dwindling crew of teachers to three other party locations. We sang, we ate, we drank, and at 1am we said goodbye. I ended up at Obata's place, playing the harmonica while he played the guitar along to the Nirvana Unplugged album at 2am in his den. The entire time I was emphatically saying "Nirvana is soooo awesome!"

I slept on his floor and I went to work the next day in the same clothes. People noticed and snickered. I snickered right back at them. My head was pounding and I kept thinking that while Nirvana is good, they aren't really that awesome. I almost lost it in my noodle bowl lunch, Obata felt the same. In fact, many people were late that morning. Thank God it was only a half day. You see, we had midterms this week and it screwed up the entire work schedule. We sacrificed half of a day on Thursday for half of a day on Saturday, which, crippling hangover aside, is about the stupidest trade I've ever heard of, since Saturday morning is worth at least two full weekdays.

On Friday night I went bowling with about seven other of my co-workers. As soon as we arrived at the alley I went to grab a beer, reasoning that a.) it was Friday night, and b.) I was bowling. This came as a surprise to every single one of my co-workers, who laughed at my Shenanigans and said, "You're so funny, crazy boy."

I tried to explain to them that in the USA, whenever you bowl you have a few beers. Bowling without drinking is just not done. "Never?" One asked. "Well, perhaps in certain Amish communities, but in general, not that I've ever heard of," I replied.

They ordered a round of sodas. I was about to say "Sodas? Why don't we just put the bumpers down now, Sally," but it's a good thing I didn't because I was the absolute worst bowler in the bunch. I had the worst score that first game.

I decided I needed to do two things:

a.) get one more beer, and
b.) step up my damn game.

Sadly, I did only one of these two things. I'll leave it to you to decide which.

Friday, December 02, 2005

First, a few stats for all of you.

I just spent 16 hours over the past 2 days in a seminar.

Yesterday was the First sunny day out of a string of 15 straight days where the Japanese weather service recorded a significant amount of rainfall in my area during daylight hours. Once again, that ratio stands at 1:15. Today, of course, it has been pouring for the past 16 straight hours.

I just recieved a school lunch bill for 19,000 yen. Once again, that is a bill for 190 dollars for mediocre lunches. I have been given exactly 1 day to pay this.

In the past 9 days I have bowled 12 different games at Toyama Golden Bowl. Of these 12 games my high score was a mediocre 153. Shameful.

In between classes, since I can't really talk to anyone, I often read. To date, in Toyama, Japan, I have read, either at work or at home, a total of 25 novels, encompassing 7,383 individual pages.

I still have 1 lingering bruise from a nasty hit I took on the side of my head during a kendo practice that was 23 days ago.

I have been asked to make the entire midterm exam for 80% of the classes in which I teach. I have done this gladly because I think 1 more iota of workload would flat-out kill my supervisor.


First, a word on the seminar. It was boring, for sure, but some of it was actually insightful, if not into the world of teaching, then at least into the minds of other JET's. For instance, in the Life After JET lecture, I learned that absolutely nobody (at least in my section) had a concrete plan for their lives post-JET. Very, very few people had even a vague notion of what to do. I am now of the opinion that practically every single JET that I know is running away from something (family, debt, relationship, career, school, etc. etc.) and is perfectly content to do so until the day that they die. Can't renew your contract here? Sign one somewhere else, preferably very far away from home. Don't like teaching in Japan? Try Australia. Try Spain. Japan not wierd and foreign enough for you? Go to China. By all means, do not go home. Do not start a career, keep passing GO, keep collecting 200 dollars, never purchase any houses, just keep running, never stop for more than three years, for the love of GOD do not settle down!

Some ideas I heard for post JET life in the seminar:

1. Foreign Service
2. Peace Corp (2 year commitment)
3. Peace Boat (go around on some hippy commune boat teaching people how to speak English for a year)
4. Roadtrip Australia
5. Roadtrip Japan
6. Roadtrip Europe
7. Work at a ski resort

All of which offer completely stable lives, secure in the long term. (cough)

But then, I guess the idea is that we don't need no stinkin' stable life, right? We're the carefree youth of the world! Just try to tie us down suckers! We will run with the wildabeasts in Africa! We will swim with the dolphins of the sea! We will treaty with backwoods tribes in the Appalachians and the Amazon! We will learn the secrets of the ancient forest peoples of Inner Mongolia! We will one day look around ourselves at 35 years old and go "Oh, Shit!"

Further evidence of this "flight or flight" instinct amongst JET's was the abhorrence many of them had when the final speaker of the conference, in her speech, mentioned that she thought women should get married around 30. You should have heard the barely supressed outcry of femenine voices in that auditorium. Thirty? Are you kidding me? I'll be climbing K2 at thirty! I can't get married! When asked why the speaker thought this, she simply said "It's a matter of the woman's biological clock," meaning that thirty is the best age for women to have children. After this age it becomes increasingly difficult to conceive and bear a healthy child. This is a medical fact, of course, but I got the feeling that it didn't really fly with many of the JETs. "The greatest job a woman can ever have is that of a mother," the speaker said. I don't think this went over well either. If she had said "the greatest job a woman can ever have is that of a deadly ninja assassin, right alongside her current partner," she might have been better recieved. Alas.

Moving on, you read the above statistic correctly, I have indeed been spending a significant portion of my time creating tests for the vast majority of the classes in which I teach. This is a pain in the ass, for sure, but far be it from me not to find the silver lining of the cloud. You see, making the tests affords me certain opportunities: I have chosen what to cover and what not to cover, I have chosen how to ask the questions, I have chosen material that is actually important, material that the students need to know, etc. etc. etc. However, far and away the single greatest opportunity writing these tests has afforded me is this: I have specifically engineered each test so that the students I do not like will fail it.

Now before you get all huffy, you should know that the students I do not like are the bad students. In all likelihood these kids would have failed it anyway, I simply came along and have guaranteed this. Trust me, these people need to fail. They need to repeat the grade. They have serious academic issues that they need to seek help for. And who are you to tell me that I can't play favorites? You wanna sit there and tell me that there aren't students that you like more than others? Sure there are. I give everybody a fair shake, but at Koho, about 1/4 of the kids chose to walk away. Fine by me. Repeat the grade, suckers.

Sure maybe 3 students in 1o will ever go on to college. Sure most of these kids have a lifetime of factory jobs to look forward to, in which they will never use a foreign language. Sure many of them can't even speak Japanese that well, much less English, but if you care enough to show up, try to learn. Otherwise, don't even bother. Become like poor Kazu, a very bright 15 year old student in my 1B class that mysteriously dropped out of school the other week:

"Where is Kazu?" I asked.

"He quit school," Obata replied.

"You mean he transferred somewhere else?"

"No. He's done. He's going to try to get a job. I think he can!" Obata said, enthusiastically.

Sure he can, he's a bright kid. I guess we'll never know what he could have done, though. We threw his nametag out today.