Nagasaki, Part II

When last our great adventurer was heard from, she was dragging her weary feet away from one of the most depressing experiences in the world, head swirling with images of destroyed buildings and mutilated bodies and an oppressing weight of perhaps mislaid responsibility bearing down. What on earth could possibly revive her spirits?

The Body Shop, of course.

... I don't mean to lessen the experience of visiting Nagasaki's atomic bomb museum or the actual events, but as a traveler and human being and, for that matter, blog-writer, one must press on. It does not to do dwell on (oooo HP reference there, did you catch it?) such dark experiences. Short doses do much more.

Since the girls-only chat at Nagasaki orientation during which we were told to take care of ourselves in girlish fashion, I had been obsessing about getting some peppermint foot lotions to hold in reserve for cheering myself up after the potential dark days of teaching that were to come. The Body Shop delivered. (All the pretty fragrances also did a nice job reviving my appreciation of the world, despite its horrors like the atomic bomb). I am now fully stocked in peppermint-scented foot care: exfoliating foot scrub and brush, cooling foot lotion, and "Intensive Foot Rescue" for when things get desperate. As far as I can tell, the packaging doesn't explicitly limit what my feet will be rescued from, so I'm going to let it be a catch-all for all sorts of disasters. Maybe I should pack some in an earthquake/typhoon emergency bag or smear some around my doors to keep the bugs out. ... if my feet are rescued, maybe the rest of me will be too.

... I don't remember all the details of what we did the rest of the day, but I think it was mostly spent poking around various shopping establishments and walking along the pier. There was a nice sea-breeze, and I haven't yet gotten tired of gazing at the ocean with mountains in the background. Dinner consisted of more pizza, some with teriyaki sauce and some with-- blissfully-- normal sauce, and another trip to Baskin-Robbin's for crepes. Except, of course, for Rose, who committed "The Great Crepe Betrayal"-- copyright moi-- by not ordering one when Joe, Gavin, and myself (the other 3 Tsushima newbie ALTs) all did. For shame, Rose. Even if you never ~said~ you were going to order a crepe, it was certainly implied. And I don't know if we can be friends if you don't appreciate the deliciousness that is the crepe, Japan-style. ;)

Sunday dawned with a renewal of energy, and the Tsushima ALTs were once again ready to brave new historical wonders for the sake of taking pictures and giving our mini-vacation some legitimacy beyond easy access to fast food and night life. Since we didn't have a huge amount of time, we settled on Glover Gardens, which is a somewhat-preserved foreigner's estate from the 1800's pleasantly situated on top of a hill overlooking Nagasaki City.

Although it was a hot morning and kind of a hike up the hill, our journey was aided by incredible outdoor escalators:

... and our efforts were rewarded by many fine views of the city, a lovely British tea-garden, and the best shot of a hawk-like bird I've gotten so far, a species which also runs rampant in Tsushima. [It's still not a great picture... but identification, Uncle Ben? ;) My Japanese-English Guide to Living Things in Japan book fails me].

All in all, a lovely trip. Peace is the word. Or, to be Japanese, the guesture.

Nagasaki Prefectural Orientation: Never-ending Party Off-the-island. Part 1.

Last weekend was the Nagasaki Prefectural Orientation and my first trip off the island since arrival. It was a wonderful 3 days of city life and daily consumption of sumptuous Baskin-Robbins ice cream.

My plane left from Izuhara around noon, so I left the apartment around 9 to arrive with time to spare. It still took me around 2 hours to drive from Hitakatsu to Izuhara, but it felt like I was flying around the mountain curves with more ease than my last trip.

Arriving Thursday afternoon, the other Tsushima JET newbies and I checked into our hotel and went to a covered shopping arcade. I nearly cried when I saw the 24-hour McDonald's. While I very rarely indulge in its fat-dripping offerings in the states, here in Japan McD's is like a big of home transplanted. A Big Mac here tastes just like a Big Mac at home, and for a few blissful moments I can pretend to be anywhere in America, as long as the secret sauce lolls about my mouth. Add to that the fact that I can only get it while on the mainland... well, that's a good set-up for McDonald's obsession and consumption. It's not that I'm homesick or want to be home in America. It's just that the daily effort of getting around using Japanese can be draining, and the food is fairly foreign, so something exactly like it is at home that I can order in English is a blessing. I am glad to report that I am not the only American who feels this way or even the only expatriot. During the lunch break at orientation, one of other island girls from New Zealand made a bee-line for McDonald's and ordered a Mega Mac-- yes, that's a double Big Mac-- and we had a stimulating discussion about how we'd almost never considering eating such things at home.

We ended up at a small hole-in-the-wall bar for dinner Thursday night, after Rose and I snuck off for Baskin Robbin's (oh my goodness the chocolate-banana crepe... mmmm), which had pretty decent pizza if you can ignore the mayonnaise sauce. Actually, I think it's pretty good, but I had a hankering for authentic American food after seeing the golden arches, so I imagined the mayo sauce away.

Friday saw the dawn of orientation, which was pretty much like Tokyo orientation but smaller-- and, as the JETs who were helping run it said, they had to repeat stuff from Tokyo. It was nice to meet up with the Nagasaki JETs I hadn't seen in awhile, though, especially the other islanders. You've got to bond when someone from a smaller island than yours is going to skip the evening bar-hopping festivities in favor of buying toilet paper (which, according to her, was too expensive to imagine on the island. I guess they can get away with jacking the prices up incredibly because people still have to buy it.)

I went to a few post-orientation get-togethers, including a tabe/nomihodai (all-you-can-eat/all-you-can-drink) dinner at a hotel which had delectable cheesy potatoes. I know, they're really pommes des terre au gratin, or something like that, but let's call them what they are. Cheesy potatoes. And yes, for all of my family who knows me too well and must be wondering, I found some ketchup to go with them. Japan has a sad lack of cheese, aside from the dairyland of Hokkaido, and Tsushima is no exception.

I should make a checklist for future mainland visits. It would go something like this:

--Get a Big Mac.
--Make time for your daily Baskin-Robbins.
--If cheese is to be had, go out of your way to get it.
--Try the local delicacy if it sounds at all edible.
--Definetely try the local soft-serve ice cream flavor. If there isn't one, get matcha.
--If there's a handicraft place, go and make something, however ridiculous.
--Buy stationary.
--Ride on a train if possible.
--Hop in a scenic onsen if one is available and it's not too hot. Climb a mountain if necessary.
--Try to get to a high point in the region or surrounding wilderness and take scenic pictures.
--Go to at least one historic place and take tons of photos so no one knows what you were really doing the rest of the time... which is, mostly, searching out food, eating it, and trying to burn off the calories.

... if you can't guess from my list, on Saturday I went to a bunch of historic places in Nagasaki City ^^ The focus of the morning was the Nagasaki Peace Park and atomic bomb museum area. I really wanted to see everything there was to see, perhaps to assuage some of the guilt I have walking around a city that was obliterated ~60 years ago by my country and wondering, every time I pass an old man or woman, if they lived near Nagasaki during the war. But I couldn't do it. The peace park was fine; there was an assortment of statues from Japan and other countries, all dedicated to the ideals of peace:

... which was all fine and good. However, Ground Zero, the spot above which the bomb exploded and was a source of suffering for so many, was filled with too much residual energy. The black tower marks its exact location:

... after that, I wandered into a memorial hall with a couple of the other ALTs, but we ended up skipping the museum. Having been to Hiroshima, I knew it would probably be fairly graphic, and I wasn't up for it after the heaviness of what we'd already seen.

(... to be continued in Nagasaki, Part II...)

Adventures at the Suu-pah

When originally thinking about applying for JET early on in my senior year, I thought a bit about what it would like to live alone. Out of all possible considerations, this was by far the scariest and the least avoidable-- even if I didn't do JET and stayed in the states, chances were I'd be by myself, alone, in an apartment somewhere. I thought it might be lonely sometimes, but I'd get a cat and everything would be okay.

I failed to consider finding myself in an apartment that restricted pets. I haven't actually asked, but I cringe to think about what a kitty would do to my tatami mats. In the states de-clawing would be an option, but out here in the sticks where cats are more homeless outdoor creatures than furry balls languishing away until their next can of tuna, I don't know if that would be an option. So far, it hasn't been that big a deal. I glimpse a fluffy kitty now and then, and it suffices my base level of feline companionship.

A much more difficult problem and one I hadn't really considered was cooking for myself. Not only cooking, but making a list and getting the things on it while wading through an avalanche of kanji characters and pushing through a crowd of obaachans (old grandmothers), trying to find something edible or easy-to-make-edible. I think it's about time for a run-down of how my visits to the suu-pah (the Japanese abbreviated version of "supermarket") are going.

When I first arrived, food was kind of an issue because I didn't have a car and didn't know that there was a suu-pah within relative walking distance. I relied solely on some food that my supervisor put together for me for the first day. On day 2, we went to the suu-pah and got food that was supposed to last me until I got my car-- 4 days, which turned into 5 when we learned the car wasn't ready for pick-up on the expected day. Subsequently, I had to get a little creative with what I had left and what canned things my predecessor had left me. This resulted in original and nourishing but perhaps not repeatable meals like mushroom-hot-dog-rosemary-spaghetti sauce over pasta. (I think I deserve a little credit for getting nearly all the food groups in).

Once I got the car, food seemed easier to deal with. I could choose when my battles with the grandmothers would be and take the brightly-colored kanji packages slowly. And, for the most part, I think I've succeeded. Making a good list, however, and sticking to it is still a little problematic, especially now that I've started school (more on that later) and have less time.

... just for kicks, here's my most recent shopping list and a concurrent list of the things that I actually got.


1. Cereal

... well, I did get cereal, delicious Fruits Granola, which is basically an assortment of mostly unidentifiable but delicious grains, dried fruit, and nuts. Awesome with...

2. Milk

... for some reason, all fresh milk in Japan is whole-fat or tastes it. There are many different kinds of milk to choose from, though, which makes me think that they do have different levels of fat... but it's really not obvious. There is such thing as "skim milk," but that's really dry milk.

3. Tofu

... I ended up with 3 single-serving packages (all tied together) of black sesame tofu, which is simply delicious. I can't buy the plain stuff if black sesame is available.

4. Fruit

... ambiguous list item, since I was trying to get something in season. Since it's between seasons right now, or seems like it, I ended up with 1 nashi (the apple/pear combination fruit I wrote about earlier).

5. Veggies

... also going for what is in season or seemed like it by low price, I got cabbage, greens (which look like bolted lettuce, but I'm sure they're something else), 4 tomatoes, 4 cucumbers (both all in one package), and sprouts of the Asian variety.

6. Non-spaghetti pasta

... after the ~4 days of spaghetti while waiting to get a car, I've laid off pasta for awhile, but I want to try my hand at a casserole one of these days. This is in preparation.

7. Pasta sauce

... the end result was getting "meat sauce," which comes in a can... if it's anything like the bag-packaged variety, it will be watery and have little meat, but I can pretend or add in more hamburger.

8. Olive oil

... Olive oil! From Italia! Or so the package says... but since Italy isn't as far away from here as America, I'll believe them.

9. Butter

... I recently learned that the tub-o-yellow-stuff that's sitting in my refrigerator is actually margarine and not the real stuff, so I got sticks of Hokkaido butter. I've never had that particular kind before, but being dairy and from Hokkaido, it's got to be delicious.

10. Other food for ~3 days

... yeah, ambiguity again, but I was counting on the maybe-something-will-just-look-like-it-wants-to-be-cooked phenomenon. I ended up with one slab 'o deep-fried tofu, a chicken breast, mini-hot dogs (ever adaptable to many dishes), and 3 one-serving-size packages of ready-to-cook yaki-soba, all neatly packaged together. Yaki-soba, basically a noodle stir-fry, is sort of a throw-whatever-in-the-pot dish, so it shouldn't be too hard to use the rest of the ingredients.

11. Food for the evening

... I was tired and didn't have the energy to grocery-shop, unpack everything, and cook, so I got konbini-style katsu (deep-fried pork) curry and an individual package of "raw milk cheese cake" for dessert. Apparently Japan distinguishes between two types of cheese cake, one that is baked and one that is not. I got what was available, which was the no-bake cheese cake.

So what was the result of this fine bit of shopping, you might ask? A successful first attempt at yaki-soba:

... well worth the effort of battling obaachans for the best ingredients. :)

Re: Mini-lizards-- a humble apology and meek request

To all the mini-lizards/yamori/gecko-like creeping things and, in particular, the adult I escorted out of my spare room a few minutes ago:

I do apologize. You are by far more clever, faster, sleek, and able to crawl through tiny spaces than I previously gave you credit for. Why, if you could crawl under my closet door when I was chasing you around, your younger and smaller relative would surely have been able to crawl under my outside door and had no need of the theatrics of dashing in when I was taking the garbage out. I even think I know how you got into the room this time, by squeezing through the unavoidable tiny crack around the screen.

However, it was really not nice of you to hide in my curtains. And it's nearly unforgivable that you lept onto my arm when I went to open them, even if you were as startled as I was. You're going to give me a bad reputation with the neighbors if you keep this up; I've nearly used up my screaming quota for the month.

Therefore, I have a request. I know you must like those dark, cooler spaces, and maybe you were just hanging out by the window so you could slip out again. However, it would be much better for all concerned, if you ~absolutely have~ to come inside, to stick to the wide-open spaces. And standing still when I try to catch you with the flattened milk-container-and-Styrofoam-tray contraption. The sound of your little sticky feet padding across the floor rapidly-- pat-pat-pat-pat-pat--- totally freaks me out. Hey, I'm paying homage to your speed here. Work with me.

It's just a proposal. Think about it.

P.S. You're the first adult gecko that I am aware of entering my apartment since I got here. I don't know how to judge gecko gender, but I really, really hope that you didn't lay any eggs or anything. I'd be very upset if you did.

The enkai

Lights will remain dim and sounds muted in my apartment this morning in honor of the passing of my first enkai and in the hope that I will survive the ensuing hangover (another first).

It just figures that it would happen when I'm alone and in a foreign country. I woke up this morning with vertigo-- well, it was kinda fun to watch the walls spin for awhile-- and wondering how I'd gotten a cold and the flu overnight. It didn't take too long to figure out that I was fine as long as I didn't move and, from there, the cause.

The enkai was everything that I'd thought/hoped it would be, with a little somethin' special in the way of a local delicacy and a pleasant lack of groping by male co-workers. Enkais, for those of you without backgrounds in Japanese office social politics, are basically office drinking parties at a restaurant during which people can let down some of the barriers they carry throughout the day, get drunk, and say what the really mean. The next day at the office or, in the case of last night, the following Monday, anything... shall we say, out of character... that was said or done is forgotten and never mentioned. This particular enkai was a welcome party for me, and as the guest of honor I got to sit across from my supervisor's boss, which I think translates as our section chief, and chat it up with the head honcho.

A slight tangent on the subject of drinking... my supervisor had asked me a bunch of questions during the initial drive from the airport to my apartment (well, we did have nearly 2 hours to kill), including whether I ate fish or not, if I could use chopsticks, and if I drank alcohol. I said yes to all three, and he seemed particularly impressed that I drink. Given the Japanese's low tolerance for alcohol and women's slight frames, it's somewhat uncommon for Japanese women to be able to drink a lot. He was sufficiently impressed to mention the fact that I drink at nearly all of the 7 schools we went to visit. I suspect, as a result, there will be more enkais in my future.

I was told to prepare a speech for last night's enkai, or at least brush up on my self-introduction, but my co-workers were kind enough to let me do it after a few rounds and some delectable sushi, after which I probably would've tried to sing The Star-Spangled Banner if they'd asked me to (hey, I've been able to practice with the Olympics going and American peeps winning so many gold medals. And it's not just me-- you watch, the camera usually gets a close-up of the starred athlete mouthing the words). I think my Japanese improves after a few drinks, anyway.

There was one moment of horror, which was of course the Expensive Local Delicacy for The Honored Guest moment-- it's really not acceptable to decline, you have to at least try it. And at first, I thought that I'd lucked out. One of the pieces of sushi that I was given was topped by a slice of the local delicacy, a kind of shellfish that translates roughly to "turban shell" and in the wild looks like a giant snail in a shell like a hermit crab might inhabit. Upon inquiry as to what it was-- being sort of greyish with a darker lining around the edges, it was surely something that I'd never had before and I wanted to make sure it wasn't fugu, or potentially deadly blowfish-- a whole specimen in a shell was promptly produced, and I was given a toothpick to do battle with the beast and wrestle it from the shell. Oliver, a senior ALT who has been in my BOE (Board of Education office) for 2 years, was sitting next to me and generally watching my back. He said he was given the same thing at his welcome party and that it took some effort to remove the thing from its shell. Thus informed, I jabbed with vigor, but the toothpick's edge wasn't very sharp and I couldn't get enough purchase to even start to pull it out. Removing the toothpick and examining its tip (which at this point was a little bent), I made a comment about how difficult the turban shellfish was to eat, and then started thinking about how to ask for different jabbing utensils or at least a new toothpick.

Here comes the horrifying part (ready?): when I looked back to the shell, the flesh had retracted into the deeper recesses of the shell. The thing was still alive. And I'd just stabbed it with a toothpick. (Oliver assured me that his had been dead. I must be special.) I gave up my vegetarianism while studying abroad my junior year in part to experience the wide array of culinary experiences that Japan had to offer, and continue to eat fish and meat as much as for convenience as remaining open to new experiences, but in that moment, I regretted the decision. I wanted to smuggle the poor creature into my purse and make an extended bathroom break, during which I could dash out a convenient back door and carry the brutalized shellfish the 2 blocks to the harbor, whereupon it could be returned to its salty home.

As it happened, the thing retracted far enough into its shell that it was deemed inedible (the effort required to remove it was officially declared impossible, at least with my meager toothpick) and the plate was whisked away before I had the chance to implement my Shellfish Rescue Operation: Back Door plan. Instead, I was given artistically-arranged, chopped-up, and definitively dead pieces of turban shellfish. I rather hope that I'm not given the honor again. The texture was kind of like cartiledge (the Japanese described it as katai, or "hard") and the taste, while not unpleasant, got stronger the more I chewed.

Otherwise, it was a wonderful evening as, indeed, it was intended to be. Being the guest of honor, everyone was trying to make me feel welcome and happy. Their efforts went as far as having the afore-mentioned section chief, who sat across from me, giving a speech in English about how happy they are to have me in Tsushima and how they hope I'll enjoy it here.

Delicious tempura followed the sushi, and juice-swollen grapes and pieces of nashi (kind of like a pear with an apple's crunch... very, very tasty) rounded off the meal. We lolled around a bit in post-feast fashion and the men had their cigarettes (sadly Japan doesn't have the same no-smoking-in-public-places-or-restaurants laws that Maine does... the smokers did ask me if it was okay, but I didn't mind that much, and things are just different here). Then, we were all off to karaoke!

I was a little surprised because I didn't know that there was a karaoke place so close, but there was a tiny one was just down the road from the restaurant in downtown Hitakatsu. Good to keep in mind. Oliver and I sang a few songs in English, and our office-mates sang some traditional Japanese songs, which was all quite amusing.

Sufficiently stuffed, beyond tipsy, and entertained, the group broke up and I was driven home, soon afterwards collapsing on my bed in the triumph of surviving my first Japanese enkai.

A Brief Warning

I would like to considerately request that all weird-looking bugs vacate my bedroom ASAP. I really don't know how you're getting in, but if you get any scarier-looking, the Killer Bug Spray is going to make an appearance. I just want to know one thing: why, WHY, are you attracted to my pajamas?! Don't you know how disturbing it is to stagger into one's bedroom after a long day and find a palm-sized grasshopper atop one's bed? Please, go after the food in the kitchen. I'll even leave some out for you if you promise to attack it and not my bed.


This also goes to the mini-lizards attempting to invade my entryway. Don't think that just because I'm trying to take the garbage out at 7:30 AM, pre-tea-consumption and still a little blurry-eyed, that I didn't notice you scooting in as soon as the door was open. You'll have to do much better than that. Hiding under my shoe-cabinet amidst the dust-bunnies and old spiderwebs won't work either; my broken-down-cardboard-milk-container, now turned into a bug/lizard/other-small-pest catching device, can reach all the way into the corners. So don't even try it.

Leftist driving, my new-found love of momo, and mountains upon mountains

Tsushima drivers beware: I got my rental car yesterday (see picture!) and shall be wreaking havoc on your streets, driving among you, until such time as this driving-on-the-left with the steering-wheel-on-the-right thing becomes more natural. As it is, driving here feels like a video game, and as such, rear-ending old grannies is 10 points, right?

... actually, driving is going fairly well, all things considered. Aside from the first, nearly-heart-attack-inducing 8-minute drive from the car rental place to my apartment earlier today, I think I've been doing well. Unfortunately, the hardest place to drive in my general vicinity is the road leading to my apartment. In many places, it's too narrow for two cars to comfortably pass, so whichever driver decides to be more considerate backs up to an area that they can comfortably pull off to the side. This is made difficult by the fact that the road leading to my apartment is lined on one side by a stream leading to the ocean which lacks guard rails in many places.

As with many things Japanese, my car came with an extra something to make it even more adorable: a Jenglish tag on the plaid blue seat covers. Just in case I wasn't sure about the seat cover's relationship with the car.















... they're friends, obviously.

On a completely different subject, a long time ago, one of my friends told me that I absolutely ~had~ to try a Japanese peach, or momo. I finally got around to it, and oh my-- it's sort of like daintily packaged bliss. First of all, they're enormous, a good-enough sized portion to comfortably sit in but adequately fill your hand. Secondly, they're juicy, with a quality of juice unrivaled in my experience. And, unlike the American/what-can-be-bought-in-America counterparts, the juice doesn't fly everywhere when you bit into the peach; it's relatively easy to enjoy without ending up a sappy mess. The scent is rather on the light side but can be detected without puncturing the skin. Finally, the color of the flesh is delicately pinkish, almost white, making the consumption of momo a high-quality aesthetic experience.

The only down-side to momo is how ridiculously priced they are, although what I'm paying is probably more than usual because of island inflation (did I really just pay ~800 yen... nearly 8 dollars... for 3 peaches? Oh yes I did). Given the whole package, though, momo are a rare but definetely-worth-it indulgence.

I wrote earlier about how mountainous Tsushima is, but I never would've been able to picture the reality, so here are a few brief glimpses. The picture on the left is one I randomly took from along the side of the road (during my driving practice earlier today), and the one on the right I actually climbed pretty high up to get, after tons of steps in the nearby Omega Park area (Omega is, apparently, a name of a company... I think):















... it really is like a tropical paradise.

Japanese towns are tucked into the nooks and crevices of these mountains. Take, for example, my apartment building. It's in Furusato, a "ward" of Kamitsushima. [Think of it this way: if Tsushima, the entire island, is a city, then Kamitsushima is a district, like Brooklyn but micro-scale, and Furusato is the equivalent of a neighborhood within Kamitsushima]. My apartment complex is the last thing on my road (I think... it doesn't seem like there's anything out there... the road continues, but I haven't actually explored in that direction yet), nestled between two mountain ridges. Because it's so far off the beaten track, as it were, there is an abundance of wildlife. I've seen swarms of dragonflies--looking out the window now, around dusk, there are maybe 150 flying around between the apartment complex and the woods, hopefully snatching up pesky mosquitoes and smaller bugs. Sorry the dragonflies don't photograph well-- you'll just have to come and see them. Here's what the apartment complex looks like:
















Behind the complex, to the right of the light in the picture, is a Japanese-style graveyard, mostly mini-shrines with names on them and ashes interred within.

... Oh, wait! What's that in the lower left-hand corner?

Here's a close-up:














... identification, Uncle Ben?

For the record, this isn't the first time I've seen this kind of bird. They don't seem to be very shy and particularly like hanging out nearby the riverbed (now filled in with weeds) that defines one side of my road (note the absence. of. guard. rails!!).

Well, I hope the pictures this time around help you folks get a better idea of what it looks like here! ^^