People often ask me why I came to Japan and to be honest I don’t remember anymore. There was no ambition for climbing the social and political ladders, no scheme to secretly change the English education system and no plan to reinvent myself as pretentious bohemian. All I wanted was to do my job sincerely and well. At times I drifted aimlessly through the rice fields and mountains of Iwaki, but what’s wrong with that? Along the way I picked up a new language, a ton of happy memories, a handful of great friends and a wife.
I’m also often asked why I stayed for so long. I stayed because it was my pleasure.
I didn't think anything memorable or important would happen in these last few months on the JET Programme, I thought it would be a time for reflection, packing and stress. I almost didn't do Cycle Aid Japan because I didn't want to be committed to something at this time, but it turned out to be one of the best experiences I've had in Japan, and one of the worst. I did the 60km 'middle course' from Koriyama to Fukushima.
Belly dancers appeared at the start.
Chie drove me and my bike up to Koriyama where the event was to start. It was a charity cycling event, not a race. I went to the bathroom and while I waited for an eternity to get into a bathroom stall a slouching, slow moving man in his late 20s shuffled up to a urinal and pulled down his trousers to reveal an adult diaper. It was apparent that this man had special educational needs. Soon after a teenager came into the toilet and upon seeing the harmless man slouched over the urinal, he turned and walked out laughing. The shame. The man in his late 20s shuffled out of the toilet and met his waiting mother who fixed up her son's trousers and led him away. I thought about a parent's love for their children, and wondered aloud why both guys in the stalls were taking such a goddamn long time to come out. Finally one of them finished and I saw in the stall the now familiar sight of shit and mess around the rim of a "more hygienic" Japanese squat toilet. Then I defecated gloriously and I worried that it would end up being the highlight of the day.
My friend who is American but not obnoxious attended the event with me and if it wasn't for him signing up as well, I probably would have quietly let the sign-up deadline slip by. He is stronger and faster than me and I was worried that he would outclass me so much as to cause embarassment, but we stuck more or less together until the end. A member of staff rode behind everyone and if you dropped back to where he was, he had to ask if you wanted to retire. This was my biggest fear, and worrying about it stopped me from fully enjoying the first half of the course. About three times during the ride a bright yellow support car slowed down beside me to ask if I was okay, and then went right by other people who were going at the same speed as me. Did my condition appear worse than everyone else's? Perhaps they had perfectly straight riding form and I was hunched and flailing all over the place. At the rest points no one looked as tired as I felt, they were either hiding it well or I was out of my league. As usual, I underestimated myself. The recommended average speed for the course was 15km/h but we did an average speed of 20km/h, completing the course in 3 hours and 12 minutes.
The rice fields and the mountains.
Maybe it was me, but the event seemed a little dour at times. The female staff at the registration desk were happy, but the male staff at the start point were very stern faced. I attempted communication with one of them, but it was weird and he didn't seem interested. When we set off the staff gave a sober applause, the kind you'd hear from a group of mothers watching their sons go to war for the emperor. None of the whooping and hollering that I was expecting. The same solemn clap was heard from the staff at all the rest points. I just wanted to be encouraged, I just wanted people to care about me. My American friend and I did some whooping when we set off from the halfway rest point but we got laughed at. The other participants mostly had severe expressions, and discussed in serious tones their condition and the complications of the course. No smiles.
However, towards the end of the course you could feel the esprit de corps. People resting on the side of the road shouted support and I shouted back. "Only 15km to go!" The last 10km included a long 4km climb, at the peak of which was a small group of staff and members of the public. They shouted "Just a little further!" and I groaned "Is this not the end?" They laughed and I laughed, finally creating the jovial atmosphere I felt was appropriate for this community event. Music was playing from my iPhone on the way down the final hill to the finish line, a certain song played and in that moment it meant something and I was happy.
The lock on the double sliding library door at school does nothing. The key pushes the lock in but it doesn't go in to the other door. It's useless. How long had it been like that? I can't be the only one to have realised, but nothing has been said. The janitor changed the lock, but the new lock is just as useless. I did speech contest practice with a student in the library and forgot the key, so I showed her how to break the door open. This was a responsible thing to do because it showed the importance of using one's initiative.
Adapting to Japanese culture is necessary if one is to live here and participate in the JET Programme. I think I've done well, but there are some things to which I have failed to adapt.
1. Sushi. For me, a meal is something that is hot and cooked, and sushi is neither. God knows I have tried to enjoy all kinds of sushi, from the cheapest to the finest and freshest. I can definitively say that I am not a sushi fan and I never will be. If there is a grilled selection (aburi) on the menu, I can enjoy a sushi restaurant, but that isn't really sushi (as sushi fans, with maximum arrogance, will be quick to point out). For me, raw fish just don't taste of anything.
2. Masks. I want to see a person's face when I speak to them. I want to see how they are reacting to me. I especially dislike the students who wear masks all year round to hide their faces. Usually girls.
3. Doorway height. The old standard for doorway height is 180cm. I am 186.5cm tall.
4. Public gargling. Teachers routinely gargle in the staffroom and the sound is disgusting. Gargling is an act which takes place in the bathroom, along with pooing and weeing. I brush my teeth in the staffroom but only when it's too cold to stand in the toilet.
5. Squat toilets. They are said to be more hygienic, but people wouldn't say that if they'd seen what I've seen. Streaks of poo have lingered on outer rims for too long for me to believe that squat toilets are more hygienic. Plus, the actual physical act of using a squat toilet is too similar to pooing in a bowl.
6. Onsen. They're too hot. Are onsen actually an ancient game of perseverance for the Japanese, and no-one tells foreigners about it? Even though onsen are supposed to have healing powers, I actually feel worse being in one. It usually feels like the contents of my stomach are being forced up and out of my body.
"Death" (死) was written on an absent boy's desk and I wondered if he'd committed suicide. I didn't follow up on this but I didn't hear anything about a suicide so I assume he's okay.
Tuesday
I did some research to support my conclusion that surgical masks are not effective at preventing the spread of respiratory illness. I found a four year old discussion on Japan Today which was interesting. I didn't find any articles to match my opinion exactly but one article said that if masks are used improperly they can increase the spread of respiratory illness; Pulling a mask down to your chin and back up to your face collects bacteria from your face and puts it straight in your mouth, a warm and moist mask worn all day becomes an ideal breeding ground for bacteria. There's also the question of whether the mask you choose is of a high enough quality to stop small flu bacteria getting in. In the end though, it's a goddamn mask and wearing one all day is not something my western mind will ever accept. I'm now used to seeing Japanese wear masks but when I see foreigners trying to fit in by wearing a mask it sheds fresh light on how strange it looks.
Wednesday
More of the annual hysteria about "INFLUENZA", the fatal infectious disease that kills almost instantly. INFLUENZA is ever present and breeds on every surface and rides every breath, but if we open the windows for ten minutes in the morning and play some Communist Party music to "change the air" all traces of INFLUENZA will disappear? Then we can go back heating the classrooms with kerosene in 2013 and making everyone feel like crap. Every year teachers have the same level of surprise and fear about INFLUENZA, even though it comes and goes every year. Instead of an annual panic and Influenza Prevention Announcement overload, why not have good personal hygiene all year round?
Thursday
Going to the gym less makes me more tired. Being less active overall makes me more tired. I know that's normal, but I have a hard time explaining it to people who can't accept that doing nothing will not increase your energy.
Friday
The convenience store didn't have either one of my trademark chicken pasta salads and only had the disgusting shrimp salad. The shrimp salad has fish eggs as a dressing, which adds insult to injury. They didn't even have the small cartons of orange juice, but had every other flavour. This is surely an intentional personal attack against me. The same thing happened at the supermarket. I was regularly buying sliced baguettes for making garlic bread, but they suddenly stopped being sold. Only recently have unsliced baguettes made a return. A friend and I were always buying a ton of delicious 88 yen banana flavoured milk drinks every week and they stopped being sold too. This is clearly a personal attack aimed at discouraging foreigners from shopping at these places.
There is no greater terror in my world than a table full of pure traditional Japanese food. The sushi and its petty vegetables, the plate of miscellaneous food that I am too ignorant to identify, and the pot of fish eggs.
Is there a food more pointless than fish eggs? Who was the first person to catch a fish and say, "Let's keep the eggs, they're delicious enough to be eaten as a seperate thing." Fish eggs are desperation food to me, or "wartime food" as someone else put it. Fish eggs would be eaten if options were low, but wouldn't be chosen over anything else.
At this hotel we also got a fish that was mostly fish eggs on the inside. If the fish is mostly fish eggs and not fish meat, don't cook it. It's not food. What if you cut open a chicken steak and the inside was mostly yolk? I am culturally sensitive.
The mysterious coin outside the salon apparently came from the Tsubame pachinko parlour. Politely returning the coin gave me a chance to infiltrate the establishment.
Pachinko parlours are so goddamn loud. Imagine a waterfall that isn't water, but instead of being water it's ball bearings and marbles, not water. That's the sound. The sound is everywhere, not coming just from the direction of the game machines like in an arcade. It's totally immersive, 3D sound. At the counter at the far end of the parlour there was a not unattractive girl looking half excited, half scared to be looking at me; a face to which I have become accustomed. I told her the coin was dropped outside and I'm giving it back, and she didn't hear a single word I said. I repeated variations of those facts and she didn't seem to hear any of it. I had to lean in close to her and scream, "This was dropped! Dropped! Dropped!" Eventually she said nodded, "Oh, it was dropped, thanks."
Based on that interaction I assume that no one talks to Counter Girl when they buy their tokens. They simply indicate a desired amount and hand over money and walk off. No real communication is expected. Although that isn't really any different from the service you get in restaurants and porn shops, where everything is said with polite set phrases. Anything beyond the expected parameters of the interaction is met with confusion or repetition - just like Siri, the robot. Not that I'm expecting waitresses to flirt with me all the time, especially not now that half the waitresses in town are my old students. I haven't seen any old students in porn shops, not in person.
It would be wrong of me to criticise pachinko as an activity considering the amount of time I've sunk into video games and stalking, also popular Japanese pastimes. It would also be wrong of me to criticise the people who frequent pachinko parlours. They may look dirty, lazy, and unsociable but I'm sure they don't play pachinko every day. They probably spend a lot of time at home too, sleeping and ignoring their unwanted kids.
My friend and I stopped for curry in Tabito while riding. We only had two thousand yen between us. I asked the waitress if it was possible to get a curry with one thousand yen. At this point it may have been assumed that we only had one thousand yen between us and not one thousand yen each. Anyway a woman who was paying for her delicious curry offered me one thousand yen to cover us. I accepted it after pretending for a few seconds that I wouldn't.
After she left I clarified with the staff the total amount of money we had, which including all our change was now over three thousand yen. Two delicious curry sets were enjoyed. Kind people in Japan, it's not a myth.
I asked a room of ten year old kids to fold a 4x4 inch piece of paper into 6 parts. It was a disaster. Half the students (the boys, excuse me) had no clue what to do. They folded the paper in half, and again, and in half again, and unfolded it to reveal eight parts. Then they stared blankly at their failure. The most blank, vacant, empty stare you could imagine. Then some of them folded the paper again to get 16 parts?
One girl was sitting upfront in the corner seat, and she'd already folded and cut out her six pieces while the boy next to her repeatedly folded his paper into eight parts, each time looking at it with the same bewildered dribbling face. It was the dumbest thing I have ever seen. And I've seen a room of 200 university graduates cheer the re-election of Obama.
I took this picture exactly four years ago from a hotel window in Tokyo on the day I came to Japan. I can remember exactly what I was thinking: "This looks exactly like the night scenes in Ghost in the Shell."
I had low expectations of Tokyo Disney Sea because most artificial attractions I've seen in Japan are in a state of disrepair. That's why my favourite places to go until now have been places of natural greatness like Ogasawara. Tokyo Disney Sea is on a whole other level, almost as if the concept and design had come from another country. The place is a shrine to consumerism and celebrates things that are of no real value, but the level of detail and craftsmanship is so high that I couldn't help but feel admiration rather than contempt.
At Tokyo Disney Sea souvenir shops which provide auxiliary seaside tat are more plentiful than the primary attractions like rides and shows. So attractions that you can ride for free as part of your ticket price are scarce but shops and restaurants are always close by and ready to take your money. Just two minutes after entering the park we ended up in a souvenir shop where I bought a Donald Duck hat, and made the fictional claim that he is my favourite Disney character. I've never liked Disney characters or Disney movies, at university when people would reminisce about their favourite Disney songs I would sit in silence and wait for the subject to change. I swore that I would wear the hat all day but it was eventually replaced by a pair of Minnie Mouse ears.
The Magical World of Disney was much more than just shops and rides arranged seemingly at random (I'm looking at you, any other Japanese theme park ever). The sections are very distinct, each with their own carefully constructed mise en scene; the dirty Arabic area has narrow streets and carpets hanging out of windows, sweaty South America has Aztec stuff and rivers for smuggling drugs, and the pirate themed area was full of wet whores.
Ariel's undersea world was great, but I broke the verisimilitude when I accidentally opened the cover of a control panel that I thought was a secret passage. We watched a live Little Mermaid show and the white woman playing Ariel was hot. I asked Chie the obvious question of "Which half of me would you rather be a fish, top or bottom?" She said bottom half, I agreed. Ariel's nook had 15 minute queue of people waiting to get inside it. When we met Ariel I was disappointed, first because she wasn't the same as the theatre Ariel (not as hot) and second because she was wearing a shawl covering her shoulders and cleavage. What's the point in having the top half of a woman's body and dressing like that?
We queued for maybe two hours to get on the Tower of Terror (!!!). A lot of people dropped out of the queue to get refeshments while their friends saved their spot - in the high school lunch queue this was the highest of crimes. All the other couples looked miserable, living lives of misery. I expected a jovial atmosphere like a queue outside a club, but people weren't even talking to the people they came with. Chie and I were the only ones entertaining ourselves. Finally we entered the pretend haunted hotel, which no-one cared about - all we wanted was the ride at the end. It started with a woman dressed in classic hotel porter gear welcoming us to the hotel in character and I tried a slow clap after she finished but no-one took it up. Everyone probably thought I was being rude by doing something that was outside of the clearly designated "fun". Don't try and make your own memories, only take these memories that we have prepared for you. Don't try and make your own entertainment, just move silently between attractions and smile when the group photo is taken. Your experience will not be unique, you will have the exact experience that is advertised with no deviation.
I love this photo. I feel that I am the centre piece of it due to my position and the relative brightness of my face. The other people in the photo must look at it and think the same. I like the girl with the dog to my left who is trying to hide her face just by hunching up and turning her head slightly (a lot of girls do this). My favourite is the tall guy at the back who is no-selling the entire thing and acting like he's in a staff photo. I was shitting myself.
The explanation for why my front bike tire was losing air didn't make sense to me because it was said in Japanese and I didn’t understand it. The Bike Man said he might have fixed it and told me to try it and see what happened. It was still going flat so I had to have both tires replaced completely. I couldn't get them replaced immediately because Bike Man takes Tuesday and Wednesday as his weekend. In all, the whole situation - from the initial suspected puncture to the full tire replacement - dragged on for about two weeks. I used not having a reliable front tire as an excuse not to go to the gym. An excuse for not exercising at home was not provided to me.
With my tire finally repaired I ride to the gym and upon approach I see men inside doing maintenance; the gym is closed. There was a sign about this in the entrance for about a week and I remember ignoring it. It would be too embarrassing to just turn around and ride back so I carry on down the road and turn left toward the bread shop to buy some unnecessary bread to cover for my mistake. The bread shop is also closed and beyond the bread shop is a dual carriage way so I have no choice but to turn around and look foolish.
I ride back past the gym and someone might be watching so I have to act like I’m doing something. Yamada, the electronics shop, is next to the gym so I go there. The smartphones look shiny as always so I look at them and touch them even though I have an iPhone in my pocket. iPad screen protectors are next, again I already own one and don’t need to be looking at them. Although, my current screen protector is a little scratched so instead of just pretending to be shopping I might really buy a new screen protector. Open wallet, it’s empty. There’s maybe 214 yen in it. It would be too embarrassing to just turn around and walk out so I press further into the shop and look at iPods in which I have no interest. Some fat people are taking up too much space.
My performance continues and I remember that I genuinely need a USB extension cable for connecting my external hard drive and Apple MacBook Air across the room. Despite having no money I look around for a USB extension cable and when I can’t find one I ask a shop assistant where the USB extension cables are. He shows me the USB extension cables and I look at the USB extension cables and think about which length would be appropriate even though I don’t have the money to buy a USB extension cable. The shop assistant, whose time I just wasted, has walked away and probably can’t see me anymore so I slowly step away from the USB extension cables and do a facial expression to convey that I’m either reconsidering the purchase or that I can’t find the right length. It’s open to interpretation.
This has gone on long enough now, if someone was watching me they’d be convinced that I knew the gym was closed and my plan all along was to buy some bread and look around Yamada. The bread shop was closed but it didn’t matter because I did a convincing performance at Yamada. I have my backpack with my gym clothes in it but no one knows that but me. Anything could be in it, maybe it’s mostly empty and I was planning to put my shopping in it. Yeah, that’ll work.
Next, I ride back to central Onahama, get money at the ATM and go to Cainz Home, the DIY shop. I realise that Cainz Home is like a toy shop for adults; an adult toy shop. I buy a cork-board, A4 size envelopes and a USB extension cable.
I’m fifteen minutes late to school wearing a hoodie with track pants but it’s spring vacation, who cares? Men pass by wearing suits and I realise immediately that today is the farewell ceremony for the leaving teachers. I will have to ride home, change clothes then come back in less than twenty minutes. Anxiety descending, anxiety descending.
A procession of Principal, Vice Principal, visiting officials and the nine leaving teachers see me return out of breath and on the verge of tears but now wearing a suit. Taking a different route to the gym I enter through the back door, hide behind the standing students and I think I’m on time therefore I am. MC starts the proceedings then the procession walks in. Students sit down; leaving teachers enter stage right followed by Vice Principal.
The leavers sit down and Vice Principal gives a short speech about each of them, all the speeches are identical apart from the names plus there are no jokes. It’s boring, I want to fantasise about Nikkala Stott but my knees really hurt so I can’t concentrate. Then the teachers themselves give a short farewell speech.Men first, women second. A boy gives nine separate speeches to the nine leavers, and then nine students come on stage to give out nine bouquets. Everyone stands up to sing the school farewell song. It’s repeated nine times for each of the departed, with a personalised verse added. The teachers give new speeches about the verses and the flowers.
All non-leaving teachers sing a song together which combines all the special verses from the previous song but to a different melody. Somehow I’m involved in this playing an extremely large gong. All students sing a short song together then all enter stage right to give every leaving teacher flowers. A third speech is given reacting to what is now about four thousand bouquets. Some girls begin to cry. Time is spent listening to sad music; all the teachers start to cry at least a bit. Vice Principal says that the nine leavers will now give their final farewell performances.
The first plays duelling banjos on one banjo and it’s amazing. The second, third and fourth read poems about concrete. The fifth admits to his vast history of abusing the girl’s softball team then commits seppuku (ritual suicide by disembowelment). More girls begin to cry, one boy passes out. The sixth also commits seppuku but she doesn’t explain why. The seventh gets down on her knees to perform rakugo but someone misunderstands and cuts her head off. Several girls start to vomit while some boys try to stifle laughter or erections. The eighth gets down on her knees, shaking and urinating, but successfully does a short rakugo performance without being killed. The ninth is crying so much it looks like her face is melting. She starts juggling onions, three at first, then four then six. The girls that aren’t trying to cup vomit in their hands cheer her on. Vice Principal gives a speech to each of the nine about their farewell performances, even to those now dead. A woman is doing cocaine in the back corner of the gym. Several students are called upon to give opinions on the performances - many choke on vomit as they speak.
Hysterical laughter breaks out among the boys when someone farts three times in a row, each time with increased volume and duration. MC asks everyone to stand up for the school song. Girls wiping up vomit with tissues and boys snorting sawdust largely ignore him. Teachers scattered around the gym stand with lips quivering, eyes watering, trying not to look at the blood trickling off stage. Vice Principal stands staring straight up at the ceiling, drooling, squeezing a tangerine. Then Principal in a quiet voice - somehow audible over the screams and wailing - calmly orders everyone to sing the song. Everyone sings perfectly but the boys are trembling, desperately trying not to laugh because someone somehow did the triple fart again. MC, nose bleeding, announces the end of the farewell ceremony. The living teachers walk off stage slowly while volunteers carry off the dead. As the students start to leave James slips out the back door, glancing back once at the severed head on stage.
