Iwate

Jeff had his birthday today, so a few of us ALT's spent the weekend celebrating with him in a ryokan.  A ryokan is a traditional Japanese hotel, usually situated near some onsen (hot springs) so guests can lounge around in yukata (like kimono but much less fancy) and soak in the onsen all day. The onsen are supposed to have mysterious health benefits, ranging from the standard claims of better circulation to the more incredible claims of cured cancer.

The onsen range in temperature, too, from lukewarm to scalding. The hottest ones are painful, but they can be endured as long as you slip into the water as quickly as possible and then not budge an inch afterwards. Your body actually cools the water around you, forming a protective layer; but once you move and bring the fresh water your way, it's almost unbearable.

The ryokan was so far up into the mountains that we had to leave the outdoor onsen at night because there were bears and monkeys and poisonous snakes around. And, of course, there was plenty of mysterious mountain cuisine to be had, including whole baby octopi and steamed bamboo shoots--you'd think either of those things would  be soft, but that would be a mistake.

More Kindergarten and an Undokai

Went to another kindergarten a few days ago. In this one they mercifully separated the age groups and only made me teach the older kids, which made the whole process much easier and more productive. After I finished my short lesson on colors, the kids started dragging me all over the place. I had at least three kids attached to each hand at any moment, and the kids had absolutely no qualms about jabbering away in Japanese even when I was clearly baffled. It made me wonder if part of the reason kids learn languages so much more easily is because they have no fear.

After I'd played several games with the older kids, a teacher asked if I'd like to see the babies. She made them sound like a zoo exhibit, and when I saw them, I realized that was a pretty accurate description. There were about seven babies, all corralled together in one room, and the teachers were only too willing to let them run around each other without any interference. It was so funny to watch the babies moving; they were all enormously chubby, with adult heads of hair on their little heads. I watched as two children, tired out, simply stopped walking and crumpled to the floor with their faces mushed into the carpet and stayed that way until they felt recharged. I have to admit I took selfish pleasure in this approach to child-tending; I was free to cuddle any kid I could get my hands on, even if they cried at the sight of me.

At the elementary schools they are preparing for the undokai, or sports festivals. I haven't seen one yet but they sound like a lot of fun; every student participates in competitions like running or kendo (Japanese sword-fighting) or other sports, and they all cheer each other on. Right now, before the festivals begin, the kids are focusing on getting ready & excited. They have assemblies where they sing the school song and yell chants as loud as they can, drawing the sound up from the very pits of their stomachs, because that gets their spiriits going.

I ate lunch with this class that day, and it was even weirder than Japanese lunches USUALLY are: curry on rice, yogurt, and bacon-wrapped asparagus. That's right; something that sounds like an appetizer at a art gallery opening (or, more likely, a bad joke about eating healthy) was something we ate for school lunch--well, SOME of us ate it. I made a student eat mine for me. During that lunch one of the boys dropped a large blob of yogurt on his shirt, then sat there and stared at it morosely while I laughed. Finally he lifted his shirt to his lips and sucked the yogurt off like a human vacuum, which only made me laugh more until he leaned over to me with a finger to his lips and a very serious expression.  I love these kids--they are crazy crazy. :)

Enkai & Kindergarten

Last night I inadvertently joined the local taiko team.

This. Is. Taiko.

How did I manage that? Mogi-san told me to bring some money and show up at a restaurant at a certain time, and I did not come to Japan to ask questions. To celebrate the new year and the additional members, the team held an enkai; a welcome feast. It consisted of a whole lot of raw things and a whole LOT of beer. I stuck to vegetables mostly; there were reddish-purplish tubers that seemed pretty safe, though they tasted odd. When I mentioned this to Jeff, Robyn's boyfriend, he said, "That's because they're squid."  Well played, Japan. Well played.

We start practice next week. I'll let you know what happens.

Today was my first day in a kindergarten. There were around 70 kids there, ranging in age from 2 to 5, staring up at me with huge eyes and scattering in all directions whenever I approached. I played outside with them, and when they found out I like frogs they showed me their collection: at least 20 frogs, caught and kept in cups and canteens and tonka trucks. The kids were not very gentle with the poor things; I watched one boy gather several frogs into his hand and then roll them all together like a popcorn ball with stray limbs kicking the air.   I ended up sneaking several of the frogs away and releasing them out of pity. 

As the kids got used to me they lost their shyness and started asking all sorts of weird questions. One girl tried to get me to eat leaves off an apple tree; another patted my stomach and asked if I was pregnant while her friend poked me square in the chest and said, "What's that?" They wanted me to hold all their hands, water plants with them, swing with them, crawl through tunnels with them, make sand cakes with them and show a proper degree of enthusiasm for everything they did. It was fun, but by the end I was wishing I had a "nap time" too.

Japan cares about your future

http://www.thesun.co.uk/sol/homepage/news/2970177/Bra-that-grows-your-own-grub.html

I expect these would be a big hit in the LDS food storage classes.

Bakemono

Mogi-san recently gave me some hand-me-down dishes, and one of the bowls has quickly become my favorite thing in the entire house. It's light blue and it has a picture of an eyeball with arms and legs running away from a pair of chopsticks. I don't know why, but from the moment I saw that thing it tickled my fancy and I laugh every time I look at it. But when I first saw it I had no idea what it was supposed to be.

A few internet searches later I discovered that my favorite eyeball was a character from an anime called "Gegege no Kitaro." It started in the '50's, but has been so incredibly popular that it is re-made every 10 years or so. It's the story of a young demon/ghost boy named Kitaro who hunts classic Japanese monsters, aided by his dead father--who possesses an eyeball, rides around in Kitaro's head, and leaves the socket at will to run around. The sheer crazy charm of it all got me thinking about Japanese monsters, so I did a little research into them too. And now I can't stop. So indulge me for a bit.

 So first off, the Japanese lump all their monsters together under the term "bakemono", which literally translates to "things that change" and, in practical terms, means "things that you should never mess with." Whereas Western fairytales/ghost stories are pretty specific about what sort of monster you're up against--complete with identifying characteristics and weaknesses unique to each class--the Japanese legends don't seem to put much stock in specifications. A bakemono can be a ghost, a "bad spirit" (a non-Christian equivalent of a demon, I suppose), an ogre, a nature spirit, a shapeshifter, a witch, or even (my personal favorite) a household item that has gained sentience on its 100th birthday. Oh yes. We're talking umbrellas and sandals that suddenly snap to life, endowed with menacing eyes and teeth and a wicked score to settle for all those years spent shrouded in dust in the garage. To this day, some people still hold ceremonies with prayers and offerings to appease their  mistreated belongings.

Among the bakemono there are also demons who can stretch their necks to impossible lengths or even detach their own heads...for some reason. They're still scary because they're also cannibals, but I fail to see how the neck thing helps them achieve that aim. Seems like it would just make them more vulnerable; making your jugular an easy target has never seemed like a good plan to me. There's also a classic Japanese response to anorexia: if a woman starves herself, she develops a giant mouth on the back of her head and her hair starts dragging everything in reach towards the gaping maw in an effort to end the relentless hunger. And, another one of my favorites, the kappa: a turtle with a hole in his head that he must keep filled with water at all times or die. They are meant to be mischevious and deadly, of course--luring people into the water and drowning them--but I can't help but find them sort of adorable, especially in plush form: 

Aww! I'd go swimming with you ANY day!

Another blatant difference I've noticed between Western tales and Japanese ones is that Western stories always have some moral or lesson, however horrible it might be. Don't accept anything from crones. Don't eat giant confectionery domiciles. That sort of thing.  Japanese stories, on the other hand, have no rhyme or reason that I can determine. Quick! You find a baby alone in the woods, crying. What do you do?

a) Poke it with a stick to see if it stops crying.

b) Take it into town with you.

c) Leave that poor sucker in the cold and beat it; you've got more important things to do than value human life.

Let's hope you picked c, because otherwise you were just crushed to death by a crazy shape-shifting hag. Care to try again? Okay, you're a blind musician who's been playing in a fancy court for a while now. Everyone praises your singing and seems excited to see you each night. Then you find out that these are not actually people; they're spirits and you've been playing in a graveyard this whole time. What do you do?

a) Keep playing for them. For dead guys, they seem pretty cool.

b) Politely decline their next invitation and leave some nice offerings for them instead.

c) Trust some Buddhist priests who paint prayers all over your body except your ears and then tell you not to speak for 24 hours.

Who knows what would have happened with a or b, but the guy in the story chose c and ended up having his ears ripped off because they were left vulnerable. Still, the priest who was responsible for that oversight explained the musician should feel lucky; if he had kept making those ghosts happy, they would have rewarded him by tearing him to shreds.

I guess when I read our stories I generally get the message, "Do right and you'll get out of this." When I read Japanese stories, all I hear is, "Don't touch anything, don't trust anyone, and for goodness' sake don't open your mouth. If you're lucky, you might make it long enough to die in the next famine."

Oh, and as a final note: if you're a guy I'd think twice before getting married in Japan. Apparently there's a 90% chance you'll wind up wed to a snow spirit, raccoon, or fox. Ladies don't face those odds in the legends, but they do have to put up with husbands who refuse to let them speak and commit ritualistic suicide at the drop of a hat. You win some, you lose some I guess.