Today I had to give a demonstration class in one of the schools, to show myself off like a shiny appliance with all sorts of newfangled features and hope the result is that the school decides to keep me around (at least until the warranty expires). It was set up just like an normal day in class, but the teachers played the parts of the students. I played the part of the enthusiastic cheerleader, and we were off on a whirlwind adventure of classroom games and stilted English (mostly on my part. Go figure). It felt exactly like a roller coaster experience: terrifying and entirely unsettling...until the ride stops and you're suddenly flooded with a surge of exhilaration that convinces you that that was F-U-N.
As a reward, the principal gave me some muscat grapes. K, not really, everyone got them, but I wanted them most so I think that counts. I devoured them as quickly as I could with both hands because it was (yet again) brutally hot and these were FRIDGE grapes, cool enough to savor if I could just get them into my mouth before the sunlight and humid air had time to settle on them. But even in the height my grape-snatching frenzy I couldn't help but notice that the principal was not eating the whole grape: he was delicately separating fruit from skin, leaving a pile of discarded green flesh on his plate. He noticed my own indiscriminate tastes at the same time, and good-naturedly informed me that I was the odd one in this scenario. Then he called in his vice-principal and in Japanese told her, "Look, she eats the skins!" Looking amused, they proceeded to ask me if Americans also devour the shells along with our nuts. "Of course not!" I replied. But then I sort of ruined the effect by letting them know that I used to try to eat their soy beans (edamame) by gnawing through the furry outer pod.
Lasting Impression Tally:
Nifty Teacher: 0
Manic Foreigner with the Table Manners of a Squirrel: 1
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Trip Recap
Kanazawa
One of the most delightful aspects of Kanazawa is its dedication to preserving historical areas in the middle of the city, so visitors can easily walk from a posh shopping district straight into narrow, walled streets of samurai houses, several of which are still lived in. A few souvenir shops sprinkle the area, selling sweets with gold in them. A few of the houses are open to the public, and it is well worth it to see the gardens. The inner rooms of Japanese buildings are all predictably similar, whether you're viewing a humble soldier's home or a lord's: tatami mats, sliding doors, displayed instruments, and a family shrine or two. The true indication of a family's status is the loving care that has been put into the garden; and boy, is it worth seeing! Meticulously landscaped streams, banks rich with green moss and old sculptures, miniature trees and blissfully over-fed koi fish that have to struggle just to edge themselves under the tiny foot bridges. Even now, the same level of care is maintained in Kanazawa's public gardens; as I learned when I visited Kenrokuen and saw the caretakers shrouded from chin to toe to ward off sunburns after spending almost an hour hunched over the same patch of moss.
I also got to walk around a geisha house, which looked just like the samurai house but with more instruments and fewer suits of armor. In the geisha district they specialize in making delicate, sculptured sweets out of a sort of gumpaste. They are glorious to behold and not so much to taste.
I also visited a temple that was full of secret passageways and 2 whole floors that were invisible from the outside of the building. The lord of the area, fearing an attack on the castle, fortified the outer temples with hidden weapons and samurai, who could watch the visitors to the temple from behind dark bamboo slats in the doors of closets that were angled to work like one-way mirrors. Even the collection box was a trap; it had no bottom, only a steep plunge into the basement awaiting anyone who was unfortunate enough to be pushed over the edge while making a charitable offering. And, if all should go wrong, it also had a suicide chamber with 4 tatami mats (4 being the number of death) and a self-locking door that would prevent cowards from changing their minds and fleeing once they were inside the room.
None of these enhancements were noticeable at first glance, and I think that goal was furthered by the enormous, attention-stealing gold altar in the center. It was very reminiscent of the displays you can find in any catholic church, and I was just musing on the similarities between religions worldwide when my eyes settled on the offering plates, stacked high with boxes of Ritz crackers and Pocky candy (biscuit sticks covered in chocolate). So alright, maybe not that similar, but I like their style! ^__^
Osaka
In Osaka, everything’s bigger. The food. The ferris wheels. The aquariums—2,000 tons of seawater bigger, to be exact, and housing several otters, porpoises, and two whale sharks whose wide, placid grins occupied me for hours. And while I wasn’t staring at ginormous fish, I was bathing in a mosque or sinking my arms deep into a stone urn full of green, medicinal mud in Bali—or at least appeared to be, thanks to the interior designers at Spa World.
I took daytrips out from the city, as well. I saw an art museum in Kobe displaying the works of the artist responsible for Gegege no Kitaro; he had to learn to re-draw everything after losing his dominant arm and it was amazing to see the intricacy of his ink illustrations. In Kyoto I saw Kinkakuji, the temple entirely plated in gold leaf, which draws so many tourists during this season that the garden overlooking the temple becomes a sea of sticky flesh. It is every bit as unappealing as it sounds--the tourist aspect, that is. The temple itself was lovely. And in Koka, a little village with only a small train station to advertise its existence, I saw one of the last remaining ninja houses. Evidently they have few problems with vandalism or theft, since I was allowed to climb through secret attics and examine self-locking windows that could only be opened with a slip of paper, revolvers hidden in short knife handles, and rotating walls. I even tried my hand at throwing the shuriken (ninja stars), and failed at hitting the target so epically that the man who trained me could only laugh.
And now, a sidenote:
Japanese sweets are, more often than not, nothing more than a trap for the Western tourist. The Japanese have perfected the aesthetic quality of their desserts and even the simplest ones are like works of art, with delicate colors, textures, and patterns. However, if you should try one of these enticing beauties, you will find the taste (and calorie content) to be akin to that of a plain sheet of paper. The Japanese have no appreciation for butter or even the crowning ingredient itself: sugar. So what happens when America gets its feisty capitalist fingers into the Osaka pie?
One of the most delightful aspects of Kanazawa is its dedication to preserving historical areas in the middle of the city, so visitors can easily walk from a posh shopping district straight into narrow, walled streets of samurai houses, several of which are still lived in. A few souvenir shops sprinkle the area, selling sweets with gold in them. A few of the houses are open to the public, and it is well worth it to see the gardens. The inner rooms of Japanese buildings are all predictably similar, whether you're viewing a humble soldier's home or a lord's: tatami mats, sliding doors, displayed instruments, and a family shrine or two. The true indication of a family's status is the loving care that has been put into the garden; and boy, is it worth seeing! Meticulously landscaped streams, banks rich with green moss and old sculptures, miniature trees and blissfully over-fed koi fish that have to struggle just to edge themselves under the tiny foot bridges. Even now, the same level of care is maintained in Kanazawa's public gardens; as I learned when I visited Kenrokuen and saw the caretakers shrouded from chin to toe to ward off sunburns after spending almost an hour hunched over the same patch of moss.
I challenge you to look at that picture and NOT be reminded of those dancing mushrooms from Disney's Fantasia.
And what were they doing? Picking up leaves and other debris from the ground so the moss could be viewed in its naked glory. Wow.
I also visited a temple that was full of secret passageways and 2 whole floors that were invisible from the outside of the building. The lord of the area, fearing an attack on the castle, fortified the outer temples with hidden weapons and samurai, who could watch the visitors to the temple from behind dark bamboo slats in the doors of closets that were angled to work like one-way mirrors. Even the collection box was a trap; it had no bottom, only a steep plunge into the basement awaiting anyone who was unfortunate enough to be pushed over the edge while making a charitable offering. And, if all should go wrong, it also had a suicide chamber with 4 tatami mats (4 being the number of death) and a self-locking door that would prevent cowards from changing their minds and fleeing once they were inside the room.
None of these enhancements were noticeable at first glance, and I think that goal was furthered by the enormous, attention-stealing gold altar in the center. It was very reminiscent of the displays you can find in any catholic church, and I was just musing on the similarities between religions worldwide when my eyes settled on the offering plates, stacked high with boxes of Ritz crackers and Pocky candy (biscuit sticks covered in chocolate). So alright, maybe not that similar, but I like their style! ^__^
Osaka
In Osaka, everything’s bigger. The food. The ferris wheels. The aquariums—2,000 tons of seawater bigger, to be exact, and housing several otters, porpoises, and two whale sharks whose wide, placid grins occupied me for hours. And while I wasn’t staring at ginormous fish, I was bathing in a mosque or sinking my arms deep into a stone urn full of green, medicinal mud in Bali—or at least appeared to be, thanks to the interior designers at Spa World.
I took daytrips out from the city, as well. I saw an art museum in Kobe displaying the works of the artist responsible for Gegege no Kitaro; he had to learn to re-draw everything after losing his dominant arm and it was amazing to see the intricacy of his ink illustrations. In Kyoto I saw Kinkakuji, the temple entirely plated in gold leaf, which draws so many tourists during this season that the garden overlooking the temple becomes a sea of sticky flesh. It is every bit as unappealing as it sounds--the tourist aspect, that is. The temple itself was lovely. And in Koka, a little village with only a small train station to advertise its existence, I saw one of the last remaining ninja houses. Evidently they have few problems with vandalism or theft, since I was allowed to climb through secret attics and examine self-locking windows that could only be opened with a slip of paper, revolvers hidden in short knife handles, and rotating walls. I even tried my hand at throwing the shuriken (ninja stars), and failed at hitting the target so epically that the man who trained me could only laugh.
The End
And now, a sidenote:
Japanese sweets are, more often than not, nothing more than a trap for the Western tourist. The Japanese have perfected the aesthetic quality of their desserts and even the simplest ones are like works of art, with delicate colors, textures, and patterns. However, if you should try one of these enticing beauties, you will find the taste (and calorie content) to be akin to that of a plain sheet of paper. The Japanese have no appreciation for butter or even the crowning ingredient itself: sugar. So what happens when America gets its feisty capitalist fingers into the Osaka pie?
 | |
| This. This is what happens. Yes, that man is there specifically to stop the line from rioting. No, there's not a special sale or anything. I checked. And now, a bonus sidenote: Japan has some of the biggest bugs I've ever SEEN. They are both illogically huge and clearly mentally stunted, even for bugs.  I found this guy lying on the sidewalk, buzzing furiously on his back. When I nudged him with my foot, he clung to it for dear life--even after I gave him a severe poke with my reprimanding finger. Then a bicycle passed us and he fell back to the ground, once more prostrate on his back from shock at the noise. ...In case you were wondering, I left him there that time. Some things just need to be weeded out of the gene pool. |
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Sado Island
Blogging on the open road this time, off on my madcap adventure from one side of Japan to the other--thanks to a 3-week break in work that will inevitably result in a pitiful paycheck, a multi-layer sunburn, and some fantastic experiences.
Starting with Sado island.
Sado is on the west side of Japan; it took me about 6 hours to get here by train. However, this is mostly due to the fact that I refused to take the shinkansen and stuck to small, local trains instead. Say what you will about the value of time and convenience, but there is something particularly stress-free about the smaller train stations, where the only question to ask is whether your next train arrives on platform 1 or 2. And besides, with 3 weeks to go, I've got plenty of time to spare taking the scenic route.
After the trains it was time to board a ferry. They called it a ferry, but it was really more like a cruise ship, complete with multiple levels and cabins. As one of the commoners who refused to dish out extra cash for a cabin, I was relegated to a hold area with all the other cabinless passengers. It hardly mattered, since I spent all of my time on the deck, staring into the sea--I thought the people at Home Depot were lying when they called that paint chip "ocean blue"--and watching flying fish. Primary conclusions: I am definitely not in Kansas anymore.
Sado is known for producing a staggering amount of gold--whole mountains have been ripped in half and left that way once their gold supply had been drained. I visited an old mine with a French couple, Mark & Julie, and our reward for enduring the unsettling robots meant to represent miners was soft-serve ice cream with gold flakes on top. I tried again and again to taste the gold, but any flavor it might have had was easily overwhelmed by the vanilla in the ice cream. Still, it felt ridiculously decadent and I can't think of a better way to say "vacation" than, "I did something pointless and strange and I really enjoyed it."
Another thing Sado is known for is the taraibune. Sado is surrounded by volcanic rocks in all sorts of odd formations, which make navigation with a normal boat almost impossible. So the locals pragmatically substituted barrels, cut in half and augmented by a small oar strapped to the front of the barrel, which experts (and only experts, it seems) can use by laboriously wiggling them back and forth. This is the taraibune: the most awkward sea vessel in existence. Julie, Mark, and I enlisted a guide, Takayuki, to lead us to taraibune. We got to take a ride in them and even attempt to steer them, which was about as successful as you might expect steering a tub with a stick to be. But way more enjoyable.
Takayuki was also responsible for introducing us to a restaurant in a bus. He said, "If you're hungry, I'll take you somewhere interesting." And interesting it certainly was. He introduced us to a man who converted his junker van/bus into a curry restaurant, barely big enough to fit the four of us and smelling of fried eggs, Japanese curry, and pickled radish. And since I'm sure you're all dying to know: the food was delicious!
Next we went to Akadomari, a port town with a unique tradition: floating sumo wrestling. They set up a large floating arena in the middle of the port, complete with a judge dressed in official robes, and allow volunteers to try their luck against each other.
Well, really....What did you think I was going to do?
I volunteered immediately, and I dragged Julie along. Equipped with just our swimsuits and those fantastically awkward sumo diaper thongs, we waited for the men to finish throwing, tripping, and rolling each other into the water so we could have our turn. We were told there were only 3 lady contestants, us and one Japanese woman. Even with my less-than-athletic physique, I thought I stood a chance: Julie is slim and petite, and Japanese woman are hardly known for being overbearing presences. But my hopes were dashed almost before they had a chance to grow. Julie, it turns out, excelled in Greek wrestling in school (what kind of things are they teaching in France??) and the Japanese woman, Fuji, was intimidatingly muscular and simply bulldozed all opponents into the water without changing her dour expression once. In the end Fuji was the champion, which sat well with the locals and sat pretty well with Julie & me too, since it meant we got to take refreshing dips in the water (albeit at high velocities).
Starting with Sado island.
Sado is on the west side of Japan; it took me about 6 hours to get here by train. However, this is mostly due to the fact that I refused to take the shinkansen and stuck to small, local trains instead. Say what you will about the value of time and convenience, but there is something particularly stress-free about the smaller train stations, where the only question to ask is whether your next train arrives on platform 1 or 2. And besides, with 3 weeks to go, I've got plenty of time to spare taking the scenic route.
After the trains it was time to board a ferry. They called it a ferry, but it was really more like a cruise ship, complete with multiple levels and cabins. As one of the commoners who refused to dish out extra cash for a cabin, I was relegated to a hold area with all the other cabinless passengers. It hardly mattered, since I spent all of my time on the deck, staring into the sea--I thought the people at Home Depot were lying when they called that paint chip "ocean blue"--and watching flying fish. Primary conclusions: I am definitely not in Kansas anymore.
Sado is known for producing a staggering amount of gold--whole mountains have been ripped in half and left that way once their gold supply had been drained. I visited an old mine with a French couple, Mark & Julie, and our reward for enduring the unsettling robots meant to represent miners was soft-serve ice cream with gold flakes on top. I tried again and again to taste the gold, but any flavor it might have had was easily overwhelmed by the vanilla in the ice cream. Still, it felt ridiculously decadent and I can't think of a better way to say "vacation" than, "I did something pointless and strange and I really enjoyed it."
Another thing Sado is known for is the taraibune. Sado is surrounded by volcanic rocks in all sorts of odd formations, which make navigation with a normal boat almost impossible. So the locals pragmatically substituted barrels, cut in half and augmented by a small oar strapped to the front of the barrel, which experts (and only experts, it seems) can use by laboriously wiggling them back and forth. This is the taraibune: the most awkward sea vessel in existence. Julie, Mark, and I enlisted a guide, Takayuki, to lead us to taraibune. We got to take a ride in them and even attempt to steer them, which was about as successful as you might expect steering a tub with a stick to be. But way more enjoyable.
Takayuki was also responsible for introducing us to a restaurant in a bus. He said, "If you're hungry, I'll take you somewhere interesting." And interesting it certainly was. He introduced us to a man who converted his junker van/bus into a curry restaurant, barely big enough to fit the four of us and smelling of fried eggs, Japanese curry, and pickled radish. And since I'm sure you're all dying to know: the food was delicious!
Next we went to Akadomari, a port town with a unique tradition: floating sumo wrestling. They set up a large floating arena in the middle of the port, complete with a judge dressed in official robes, and allow volunteers to try their luck against each other.
Well, really....What did you think I was going to do?
I volunteered immediately, and I dragged Julie along. Equipped with just our swimsuits and those fantastically awkward sumo diaper thongs, we waited for the men to finish throwing, tripping, and rolling each other into the water so we could have our turn. We were told there were only 3 lady contestants, us and one Japanese woman. Even with my less-than-athletic physique, I thought I stood a chance: Julie is slim and petite, and Japanese woman are hardly known for being overbearing presences. But my hopes were dashed almost before they had a chance to grow. Julie, it turns out, excelled in Greek wrestling in school (what kind of things are they teaching in France??) and the Japanese woman, Fuji, was intimidatingly muscular and simply bulldozed all opponents into the water without changing her dour expression once. In the end Fuji was the champion, which sat well with the locals and sat pretty well with Julie & me too, since it meant we got to take refreshing dips in the water (albeit at high velocities).
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