Today I worked in a junior high and we had the kids write down what their dreams were. I walked around, helping kids with translation problems and getting to know them a little better; I was surprised by how tame their dreams were. The most common jobs included hospice worker, factory worker, and florist--all respectable professions without a doubt, but not exactly the sort of ambitions you expect from young kids. Then I got to one student who had written only three lines. Three amazing lines.
1. I want to be a robot maker.
2. I want to make better robots.
3. I want to send them to the past.
"Really??" I asked, excited. "You want to send them to the past? Terminator?"
The kid just nodded and looked at the ground, but there was the faintest hint of a smile on his face, and that smile just confirmed what I already knew: this kid is going places. :)
Monday, June 28, 2010
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Some more Folklore for y'all
There isn't much to say in this post; just a few minor points of interest.
1. I got to save a snake! It had gotten itself tangled up in a plastic net in Mogi-san's yard, and both her and her husband hate snakes. She said they were both secretly hoping it would die before they had to deal with it, but they called me because they know I like snakes. When I got there we thought it had died; it wasn't moving. I kept poking it, though--looks like childish persistence pays off once in a while, because I discovered it wasn't dead after all. I held it while Mr. Mogi cut away at the netting. The snake was obviously worn out but still really strong; it wrapped itself all the way around my ankle and squeezed, startling me into almost dropping the whole bundle with its head still trapped inside. The process was long and difficult because most of the plastic was wrapped tightly around the snake, so we had to pull the plastic away with our fingernails before we could safely cut it. Eventually we freed it, and it was so cool! It was light gray/green, and as docile as could be. I carried it over to a field with two hands--it must have been at least 4 feet long--and released it there. Now Mogi-san tells the story at the schools and someone called me "hebi onna," the "snake woman" (which happens to be one of those charming bakemono I mentioned before).
2. I learned about another Japanese tradition today. When they eat "hatsumono," the first fruits of the growing season, they are supposed to eat while facing the east and laugh. Today one of the teachers gave me some beautiful cherries (Yamagata Prefecture is famous for them) so Mogi-san and I laughed towards the east, right there in the teachers' room. Apparently it's a way of thanking the gods. Pretty cool deities, in my opinion, if they take laughter for thanks.
1. I got to save a snake! It had gotten itself tangled up in a plastic net in Mogi-san's yard, and both her and her husband hate snakes. She said they were both secretly hoping it would die before they had to deal with it, but they called me because they know I like snakes. When I got there we thought it had died; it wasn't moving. I kept poking it, though--looks like childish persistence pays off once in a while, because I discovered it wasn't dead after all. I held it while Mr. Mogi cut away at the netting. The snake was obviously worn out but still really strong; it wrapped itself all the way around my ankle and squeezed, startling me into almost dropping the whole bundle with its head still trapped inside. The process was long and difficult because most of the plastic was wrapped tightly around the snake, so we had to pull the plastic away with our fingernails before we could safely cut it. Eventually we freed it, and it was so cool! It was light gray/green, and as docile as could be. I carried it over to a field with two hands--it must have been at least 4 feet long--and released it there. Now Mogi-san tells the story at the schools and someone called me "hebi onna," the "snake woman" (which happens to be one of those charming bakemono I mentioned before).
2. I learned about another Japanese tradition today. When they eat "hatsumono," the first fruits of the growing season, they are supposed to eat while facing the east and laugh. Today one of the teachers gave me some beautiful cherries (Yamagata Prefecture is famous for them) so Mogi-san and I laughed towards the east, right there in the teachers' room. Apparently it's a way of thanking the gods. Pretty cool deities, in my opinion, if they take laughter for thanks.
Monday, June 7, 2010
What is IN this water...?
Somebody pinch me; I think I've gone off the deep end. Maybe I've accidentally been drinking drugged apple water (that's the closest thing to juice here. Weep.)
Last weekend we had a mandatory training meeting. I dreaded it because I expected it to be less than useless--and I was right--but it also gave me a chance to compare myself with other Interac employees. Favorably. Don't look at me like that! Stop it!!
Anyway, most of the other employees don't speak Japanese at all, and they are struggling to integrate themselves into the communities. Well, scratch that; they feel so opposed to trying Japanese that they are alienating themselves from the communities. It made me feel really lucky and...well okay let's just be honest here...a little too proud. I can't hold a coherent conversation but I can muster the interaction skills of a 5-year-old, and I'll be danged if that small accomplishment doesn't make me feel like a champion each and every time. My conversations usually go something like this (translated for your convenience!):
Kind Japanese Person : "How are you doing? Do you need anything? Do you like it here?"
Me: "Oh! Uh! It's pretty! And you are nice! ...Um. Um. UM. ....I like snakes!"
KJP: "...Oh, really? That's interesting! haha"
Me: "Do you like movies? UM. I like movies. I like Johnny Depp! Everyone likes Johnny Depp! Um...mm...He's cool!"
KJP: "Right! Let's go eat something!" (followed by something I can't understand that probably translates to, "...so your mouth will be too full to keep flapping like that of a over-stimulated chimp."
Me: *claps with over-stimulated glee and throws in a few "Um!"'s for good measure*
So clearly we're not talking about award-winning language skills here. And yet I flush with pleasure after even the most mundane attempts at communication--and I've used those minor skills to make a few friends, whereas most of the other employees are more comfortable interacting with English-speakers only. On top of that, none of them seem all that pleased with teaching as a job. A lot of them feel disinterested and upset because the pay is less than they would be making in a more permanent career. Over on the other side of the fence, I'm making more money than I ever have--not that that means much--and I love teaching and interacting with the kids. In short, I am starting to feel like I have a place in this crazy corner of the world. I've been here long enough for people to recognize me; kids wave hello on their way to and from school and occasionally a teacher will invite me to their home to meet their family. It's nice to feel a part of Iide, even though I'm more of a pet than a capable citizen. And I'm starting to have more fun with the kids, too. Today I taught them how to fist bump (all it earned me was a lot of confused looks but I enjoyed myself regardless). But as fun as the community is, I have just as much fun interacting with perfect strangers.
...that may be the creepiest, most misleading sentence my fingers have ever crafted, on the internet no less...
Let me attempt to explain. As I've mentioned before, Japanese people are gorgeous. Their flawless skin and endlessly versatile hair gives them the power to pull off ethereal fashions or hard-core David Bowie-style dandelion mullets without a hitch. I imagine that, next to them, I come off looking like a wide-eyed turnip girl: roundish and bumpy in odd places, and pale except for random blotches of red and purple on my cheeks and arms (thanks, Irish/English heritage. What the HECK, Evolution? You owe me.). You wouldn't think that would be a good thing, but it turns out to be pretty useful: I can stare at everyone with wild abandon while they are distracted by my oddness. Rendered equals and instant comrades by the power of curiosity, we can safely approach each other and have a baby-talk session without preamble. The social codes don't apply as strongly to me, so nobody thinks it's creepy or annoying if I approach them in the mall and ask where they bought their shoes or how they get their hair to have so much lift. They just blush furiously and stammer, and I blush furiously and stammer, and eventually we both realize how inadequate our language skills are and just laugh instead. Then we part ways, no harm done. It's pretty intoxicating, finding that people are just as interested in you as you are in them, and especially so when they are beautiful enough to shame Angelina Jolie into changing her name and making a designer, eco-friendly paper bag to wear over her face.
I just can't get enough of it! But I just know that eventually people are going to realize that it is rather odd for a grown woman to act so enthusiastic, even if she is an odd specimen from the West, and then I will have to re-learn how to be mature. Dang.
Last weekend we had a mandatory training meeting. I dreaded it because I expected it to be less than useless--and I was right--but it also gave me a chance to compare myself with other Interac employees. Favorably. Don't look at me like that! Stop it!!
Anyway, most of the other employees don't speak Japanese at all, and they are struggling to integrate themselves into the communities. Well, scratch that; they feel so opposed to trying Japanese that they are alienating themselves from the communities. It made me feel really lucky and...well okay let's just be honest here...a little too proud. I can't hold a coherent conversation but I can muster the interaction skills of a 5-year-old, and I'll be danged if that small accomplishment doesn't make me feel like a champion each and every time. My conversations usually go something like this (translated for your convenience!):
Kind Japanese Person : "How are you doing? Do you need anything? Do you like it here?"
Me: "Oh! Uh! It's pretty! And you are nice! ...Um. Um. UM. ....I like snakes!"
KJP: "...Oh, really? That's interesting! haha"
Me: "Do you like movies? UM. I like movies. I like Johnny Depp! Everyone likes Johnny Depp! Um...mm...He's cool!"
KJP: "Right! Let's go eat something!" (followed by something I can't understand that probably translates to, "...so your mouth will be too full to keep flapping like that of a over-stimulated chimp."
Me: *claps with over-stimulated glee and throws in a few "Um!"'s for good measure*
So clearly we're not talking about award-winning language skills here. And yet I flush with pleasure after even the most mundane attempts at communication--and I've used those minor skills to make a few friends, whereas most of the other employees are more comfortable interacting with English-speakers only. On top of that, none of them seem all that pleased with teaching as a job. A lot of them feel disinterested and upset because the pay is less than they would be making in a more permanent career. Over on the other side of the fence, I'm making more money than I ever have--not that that means much--and I love teaching and interacting with the kids. In short, I am starting to feel like I have a place in this crazy corner of the world. I've been here long enough for people to recognize me; kids wave hello on their way to and from school and occasionally a teacher will invite me to their home to meet their family. It's nice to feel a part of Iide, even though I'm more of a pet than a capable citizen. And I'm starting to have more fun with the kids, too. Today I taught them how to fist bump (all it earned me was a lot of confused looks but I enjoyed myself regardless). But as fun as the community is, I have just as much fun interacting with perfect strangers.
...that may be the creepiest, most misleading sentence my fingers have ever crafted, on the internet no less...
Let me attempt to explain. As I've mentioned before, Japanese people are gorgeous. Their flawless skin and endlessly versatile hair gives them the power to pull off ethereal fashions or hard-core David Bowie-style dandelion mullets without a hitch. I imagine that, next to them, I come off looking like a wide-eyed turnip girl: roundish and bumpy in odd places, and pale except for random blotches of red and purple on my cheeks and arms (thanks, Irish/English heritage. What the HECK, Evolution? You owe me.). You wouldn't think that would be a good thing, but it turns out to be pretty useful: I can stare at everyone with wild abandon while they are distracted by my oddness. Rendered equals and instant comrades by the power of curiosity, we can safely approach each other and have a baby-talk session without preamble. The social codes don't apply as strongly to me, so nobody thinks it's creepy or annoying if I approach them in the mall and ask where they bought their shoes or how they get their hair to have so much lift. They just blush furiously and stammer, and I blush furiously and stammer, and eventually we both realize how inadequate our language skills are and just laugh instead. Then we part ways, no harm done. It's pretty intoxicating, finding that people are just as interested in you as you are in them, and especially so when they are beautiful enough to shame Angelina Jolie into changing her name and making a designer, eco-friendly paper bag to wear over her face.
I just can't get enough of it! But I just know that eventually people are going to realize that it is rather odd for a grown woman to act so enthusiastic, even if she is an odd specimen from the West, and then I will have to re-learn how to be mature. Dang.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Thoughts on the Homeland
Sorry everyone, but I just have to get this out. I know you all know this already, but I just need to express it. Blame it on all the Coke I've been drinking (incidentally, if our nation had a flavor it would be fructose syrup and caffeinated soda water).
Has anyone else noticed how we aren't expected to like our own country anymore? Like the way everyone seems to reduce our country's worth to a string of corrupt/ineffectual politicians and bad reality shows? The constant reliving, re-regretting, and re-damning over old wars?
Little stuff, but constant. When I went to the U.K., everyone advised me and my fellow travelers to pretend to be Canadian for our own good. And we just accepted it; of course we shouldn't advertise where we're from. It's just not good manners, being American. I've noticed it in other American travelers; the automatic self-abasement, like mocking our country might keep other people from beating us to the punch. Not that I have a problem with the mocking; anyone who knows me should know that there is very little I will refuse to mock. It's the constant assumption that America is irredeemable that gets me--that even Americans would be stupid to be proud of their own country. Other countries have done horrible things and made huge comebacks and their citizens carry their heads high, but for some reason a lot of us don't; a lot of us repeatedly apologize for things that weren't even part of our lifetimes. It bothers me.
Today Mogi-san and I were having a relaxed chat about Japan's politics with a car dealership owner while he looked over my car, and I was overwhelmed with the familiarity of it all. Japan's laws and customs are so different from ours, and yet we all worry about the exact same things, in the exact same ways. Taxes. Our leaders. Health care. Education. I felt like I might have had the same conversation right at home in my living room. Mogi-san wasn't ashamed because Japan's prices are high or because it's difficult to make changes. Why should I be ashamed because America is that way?
I feel like we can (and will) build and re-build every time something goes wrong. It's what people do. It's what the Japanese do, and the Ecuadorians, and the French, and the Austrians. For all the cliches about the darkness in the human soul, it cannot be denied that the human soul also fosters a relentless drive towards happiness. Americans are no different. We can trust ourselves to move forward. We should.
Has anyone else noticed how we aren't expected to like our own country anymore? Like the way everyone seems to reduce our country's worth to a string of corrupt/ineffectual politicians and bad reality shows? The constant reliving, re-regretting, and re-damning over old wars?
Little stuff, but constant. When I went to the U.K., everyone advised me and my fellow travelers to pretend to be Canadian for our own good. And we just accepted it; of course we shouldn't advertise where we're from. It's just not good manners, being American. I've noticed it in other American travelers; the automatic self-abasement, like mocking our country might keep other people from beating us to the punch. Not that I have a problem with the mocking; anyone who knows me should know that there is very little I will refuse to mock. It's the constant assumption that America is irredeemable that gets me--that even Americans would be stupid to be proud of their own country. Other countries have done horrible things and made huge comebacks and their citizens carry their heads high, but for some reason a lot of us don't; a lot of us repeatedly apologize for things that weren't even part of our lifetimes. It bothers me.
Today Mogi-san and I were having a relaxed chat about Japan's politics with a car dealership owner while he looked over my car, and I was overwhelmed with the familiarity of it all. Japan's laws and customs are so different from ours, and yet we all worry about the exact same things, in the exact same ways. Taxes. Our leaders. Health care. Education. I felt like I might have had the same conversation right at home in my living room. Mogi-san wasn't ashamed because Japan's prices are high or because it's difficult to make changes. Why should I be ashamed because America is that way?
I feel like we can (and will) build and re-build every time something goes wrong. It's what people do. It's what the Japanese do, and the Ecuadorians, and the French, and the Austrians. For all the cliches about the darkness in the human soul, it cannot be denied that the human soul also fosters a relentless drive towards happiness. Americans are no different. We can trust ourselves to move forward. We should.
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