Expectations

I haven't posted in a while because life has been a bit of a roller coaster.  I don't like to whine and complain, and things are always better the next day.

I was thinking while driving the 4.5 hours home from Gunma today of all the things that I never thought I would do... ever, really... but especially in Japan.

For example, I used to pride myself on my road trip abilities.  I remember driving all through the night with my father, unable to sleep, staying awake to keep him company, and listening to 70's music on the radio.  We would drive across multiple states, only stopping when the gas tank neared empty.
 After a series of Japanese road trips almost every weekend since we've arrived in Japan, I have to announce I am hanging up my long-distance road trip shoes.  After all, there's a reason why this country is criss-crossed with railway lines... the highways are emotionally exhausting and difficult to navigate.

There are no interstates in Japan.  You have expressways, for which you have to pay.  Unfortunately, the expressway is not in our budget... so "backroads" are our only option.

Only backroads in Japan look like this:

Yes, it's picturesque frozen in a picture.  But do you see any lane markings on this road?  Know why?  It's basically one lane.  Do you see any guard rails?  No.  Just giant gutters.  And the best part is playing Japanese "chicken"... two cars going around a sharp curve on a one lane road in opposite directions, who's going to yield?????

Two words: defensive driving.

After spending an hour on such a road, my head hurts, my stomach is nauseated, and I need a break.  I never thought I would say I took our interstate system in America for granted... but it-construction, potholes and all-is a very lovely and beautiful privilege.:)

This Saturday is our school festival.  For those of you not in Japan, most Japanese schools have a giant festival of presentations, music, and sports that takes ages of planning and time.  

I was told 2 weeks ago there was a teacher's song for the festival.  We were to sing "Hey Jude".  In English, I asked?  Yep.  Great!  Not worried at all.

A day later, I was asked to play the tenor saxophone in this song.  E? I asked.  Yes, they said, we heard you  play.  PlayED I said, emphasizing the past tense, playED.  How long did you play, asked they.  Seven years, said I.  Ooooh, ahhhh said they.   $@$^%&$# said I.

But then, like a gift from the magical heaves above I was told I did not, after all, have to play.  They were unable to get the music in time.  They were very sorry.

Yessssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss!  Happy dance and wine ensued.

At work this past Thursday, I find this on my desk:

Do you see any words on this music?  Neither did I.  So I asked... if I am singing, where are the words?

Oh no, said they, this is your saxophone music.  E????  I don't have a saxophone, said I.  A student will lend you one for the performance, said they.  E?????  But I need to practice, I protest.  Silence.  Crickets chirping.  A gentle cough.

So, this Saturday morning, after not playing in about 12 years, I will pick up a tenor saxophone--the fingerings of which I had to look up on the internet--and play a solo in front of my entire town without a single minute of practice.  Didn't think I would ever have to do that... ever... except in nightmares...

I make one last effort tomorrow to find ye olde saxophone rental store... as my attempts to break fingers, a hand, or anything really this weekend while canyoning failed, and I have no legitimate injury to prevent my playing.

If sliding down a waterfall didn't kill me, I doubt the saxophone solo will.  Unfortunately. 

 Jumping, floating, sliding and twisting my way down a river... also not something I ever expected to do.

It's all about expectations... and flexibility.  

Yes, I would rather have open heart surgery than play a sax solo in front of my entire community, my students, and coworkers.  I would rather have a root canal than slide down the above referenced waterfall. I would rather be attacked by snakes than drive on one lane mountain roads with no guard rails.

But, I accomplished two out of the three things listed above relatively painlessly....and though not exactly enjoyable, I am no longer afraid.

By the time I come back from Japan... I will be fearless.:)

Pyros and Baby Steps

This is not a sign you see in Japan.

Alan has had a huge problem with the Japanese practice of burning yard waste and trash.  We live by several farmers who frequently set moderately large blazes that conveniently send all the smoke directly into our apartment.  It has been triggering Alan's allergies, and yesterday it was so bad, we had to leave the house.  This unfortunate practice has made Alan ( I had thought unfairly) label all Japanese people as "pyros."

Students did this themselves!

However, the past week in school has only lent support to Alan's theory. For example, fire drills in the U.S. are boring, routine affairs that usually occur in the dead of winter, pouring rain, or blazing heat.  You wander outside, wander back inside, and call it a day.

Not so in Japan.  Japanese fire drills are much more fun.  It involves a lot of shouting over the intercom, running around with flags, and setting fire to large basins full of gasoline multiple times.  It was pretty impressive.  Even more so, as three students got to work the extinguisher to put out the gasoline fire.  I would have thought one teacher demonstration would have sufficed... but nope, three more student led demos followed.  And then, one last, long, glorious fire to finish burning off the gasoline.  Yup.

I went to science today with the first graders and you'll never guess what they were doing... biology!  Of course not.  They were setting things on fire.  First, they experimented with candles and oxygen, and then for no reason that my poor Japanese could discern, started burning plastic.  Now I know where the strange smell of burnt marshmallows that has been hanging over the school comes from.

Despite the battles we continue to have with various bureaucratic organizations, this week was an upturn from the past two frustrating weeks.  After hitting a new low of this go-round in Japan, I am encouraged by the fact that it seems like life here moves at a baby-step pace.

Anyone who knows me knows I typically move at about 100 mph.  I do a lot, do it fast, and don't have much patience for anything except my students.  Life here is the opposite of fast.  It is the new definition of "slow".  And the people and processes move slowly too... and slowly, slowly I am learning to cope.

I had several victories this week in communication with staff and students, the most frustrating part of my time here so far.  The Japanese teacher who sits directly behind me and has never uttered more than a mumbled "ohayo gozaimasu" my direction has suddenly discovered a personality and an English ability!  She sits next to me this month during lunch, and is much nicer than I might have otherwise assumed.  Hooray!

I also worked out and wrote a Japanese "script" to ask the homemaking teacher to help me find materials I need to make my winter project--a handmade yukata.  She has been so unbelievably nice and helpful, not only ordering me the material, but giving me coupons to a special sale at a sewing store for clearance obis next week.  She has offered to help me every step of the way if I need it, and offered me the use of the school sewing machines if I decide hand sewing is too difficult.  Hooray hooray!

My winter project--a handmade yukata!  Kirei, ne?

Lastly, the women teachers at the junior high are having a pizza party for *both* Alan and I!  I'm so happy they included Alan, as I've been worried about spending time with co-workers without him.  I think he is happy too, so triple hooray and that's it for today.:)