Ooooooooo-kay. First, I dedicate this blog entry to Uncle Ben (who, I'm sure, was just waiting for me to post something completely and unabashedly ~all~ about food. Go ahead. Comment away) and Abby (who gave me that little bit of dangerous assurance that someone's out there reading the blog and interested in recipies).
Before cooking commences, here's the back-story. I had kind of a shitty evening tonight-- got completely walloped by one of the elementary 1st graders in kendo... she didn't really pay attention when I said that what she was doing hurt (hey, I was wearing protective gear), but now I'm nursing a line of small wealts and a hand-sized bruise. I don't think anything's broken... but man... boys beware when this girl becomes a teen... she can take care of herself!
... and so I came home and baked cookies and now feel much better ^^ It must be a Granville (my mother's side of the family) thing.
This is gingerbread a la Japan. By which I mean it includes ingredients that can be found in Japan (hey, if I can get them on the island, any of ya'll mainlanders should be able to dig up this stuff too) which, I must point out, does NOT include molasses, brown sugar, or ground ginger. That's right. No ground ginger necessary. But how, you ask, will you make gingerbread men cookies without ground ginger? The answer, my friends, is 'cuz we've got the real stuff over here. That's right. Scary, twisted brown ginger root strong enough to knock you into next week or at least Korea (hey, it's only 53 kilometers away). You may be able to find it in the states (or outside of Asia) in fru-fru healthy/organic grocery stores or Asian food markets.
And, before I forget, a big hand to Tulip Girl for posting this recipe (www.tulipgirl.com/mt/archives/000930.html)... it's nice to know there are people out sharing the Japan-friendly recipe love. (if you want a copy of the recipe without my crazy, distracting, and possibly superfulous comments, then go to this link for a clean, undisrupted copy of the recipe :)
A brief pre-cooking warning: This is going to be messy. Verrrrrrrry messy. Possibly more messy than your kitchen has every been before (with the exceptions, perhaps, of my mother... even though that whole cover-the-floor-with-flour thing was my fault, and I was probably old enough to know better... and Adam of the South... I'll repeat it again, you're way lucky to not have a bug problem ;) SO. By the end of this recipe, expect to have flour dusted half-way across the kitchen, splatters of dough everywhere, and your clothes a mess. Please dress accordingly.
First step: turn on the festive holiday 'tunes. Yes, do it now. I speak from experience. You will be incapable of it later. If you aren't in holiday music mood or you just love these cookies so much that you're making them in non-holiday season, then get out the hard rock music. It will make things interesting mid-recipe.
Next, gather together the following ingredients:
4 cups flour (plus an unexpected shitload more... have 4 more cups just to be safe)
2 cups sugar
1 teaspoon baking soda
2 teaspoons cinnamon
1 teaspoon salt
4 full teaspoons chopped or grated fresh ginger (3+ inches of ginger root)
(optional: 1 teaspoon ground ginger)
250 grams butter (that's 8 oz for you non-metric folks)
4 small eggs
2 teaspoons honey
Ready? Okay! (don't throw your pom-poms at me yet. we haven't even started.)
Ooooo, you'll need one other thing too. A giant-ass bowl. Like, huge. At least twice the size of the one I used. Maybe big enough to fit two large heads of cabbage. Comfortably.
So, mix the flour (the 4 cups; hold the rest in reserve for later) in your gigantic bowl with the baking soda, cinnamon, and salt. Using your sparkling clean hands (because I know you washed them before you started cooking. We're hygenic, aren't we?), rub in the butter.
[Now, I ~know~ that if anyone who reads this and actually tries it will probably just melt the butter in the microwave. It's easier, saves time, and is less messy. But I do believe there is a difference between melted and hand-mooshed butter.]
So rub the butter into the mixture until everything gets all crumbly. Then add the sugar and rub that in. Grate your ginger or cut it very finely. Beat the 4 eggs and add the ginger, eggs, and honey. Mix everything throughly with. your. hands!
[Now... I hope you turned on the festive tunes at the beginning if you wanted to. Do you see now why it's impossible mid-recipe?
For those of you who opted for the hard rock music at the beginning... this is the point at which you can make your meanest, snarling face, raise your hands our of the bowl of dough, and do a great impression of the Mud Creature from Scooby Doo. Really!... the sticky, dripping brown dough and everything... it's classic].
...added your 4 cups of flour? Okay. This is where your "unexpected shitload more" of flour comes in. You need to add enough flour so the dough is roll-able. What, it's sticking to your hands like you're the Mud Creature from Scooby Doo?! Well then... just keep adding flour ^^
... as you're adding endless amounts of flour... this is the point in the recipe where those brave enough to consume raw eggs (or those who just never grew up) can taste the dough. On the grand scale of cookie dough goodness, I'd give this a 4/5. I don't know if much can beat classic chocolate chip cookie dough, but this is less salty (so less of a gaggy aftertaste even after you've eaten too much) and the raw ginger gives it an extra-special zing. Try it, you'll like it ;)
Next... according to the recipe, once the dough is roll-able, you're supposed to roll it out on a surface that is first cleaned and then dusted with flour. The dough may then be cut into shapes. You could do that, I suppose. Or, if you're lazy like me (and don't have access to cookie-cutters anyway), you could roll bits of dough into a small balls (each 1-2 walnuts large) and smoosh them flat. Voila! ..you've just avoided a bigger mess and saved a bunch of time.
Put a bunch of these smooshed balls on a greased tray and bake them at 180 degrees C (that's ~350 degrees F) 15-20 mins.
And enjoy :) ...I'd recommend a nice glass of Hokkaido full-fat milk to accompany. Great for dipping.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Time Warp Back to August
I was digging through old computer files today and ran across an unpublished partial blog entry from August 9th, about 4 days after I arrived in Tsushima. It probably never got posted because it took awhile for the internet to get set up in my apartment. Most of the points made were discussed in later blog entries, but for posterity's sake, here it is, a retrospective look at my newly-newbie JET days:
This last week has been insanely busy—running around to orientation events in Tokyo for 3 days; spending nearly a full day to get to the island; and dashing about to fill out paperwork, set up accounts, and meet tons of people who will directly or tangentially be part of my life in Tsushima. It’s been exhausting.
Which is why I’m taking immeasurable pleasure today in completely loafing about. There are tons of places to explore in Kamitsushima, the hamlet-like section of Tsushima where I live, but my transportation options are rather limited at the moment. I don’t have a car yet (more on that later), the bike my predecessor left has a flat tire, and my apartment’s really set back from the main part of town. I wandered around a bit on foot a few days ago and came across an ancient Korean burial ground—if I read the sign correctly—near the end of my street. Tsushima is close enough to South Korea that the port of Busan can be seen on a clear day. My supervisor took me to a look-out point, complete with a Korean-style building, as a break from paperwork. It was a little foggy, but I could still make out the outlines of a few tall buildings across the water.
I’m enjoying getting acquainted with my apartment; it has some quirks that take getting used to. Before coming to Tsushima, I’d heard about the poisonous-but-not-deadly snakes, but my real enemy here is much more insidious and difficult to combat: mold. Because the island has such incredibly humidity, it is, perhaps, inevitable, but still a pain. Despite someone’s best efforts with de-humidifying products (mostly absorbent beads in a container designed to suck all of the water out of the air), a few of the walls are horribly moldy. I want to throw the doors open to air the place out, but that would only bring in more dastardly humid air. Mold’s also taken a hold on some things in the bathroom that I’ll have to deal with eventually—I’ve been trying to work up a little courage, it grosses me out too much at the moment—and, sadly, my hot-water appliance (a little larger than a blender, it keeps a supply of hot water ready for tea at any moment). This will also have to be dealt with at some point.
Of course, I’ve also met or learned of other island foes in the past few days, such as cockroaches (one was waiting for me on the outdoor wall of my apartment when I first arrived) and mukade, the nasty species of poisonous centipede. My supervisor also pointed out the driving dangers of deer, Tsushima mountain cat (indigenous to Tsushima and on the way to extinction with ~80 individuals remaining… apparently feline AIDS is running rampant through the population, and they aren’t expected to make a recovery), and wild boar. Last night as another ALT was driving me home from an all-island ALT get-together, we saw a group of maybe 8 baby boars scrambling up a hill next to the road. Totally adorable, but I wouldn’t want to meet their mother in the middle of the road.
-----
That's it. Man... I almost wish I had to worry about mold again (it's a spring/summer-only phenomenon). I guess the choice in Tsushima is "Mold or Cold." And as with most things, the grass is greener on the other side.
This last week has been insanely busy—running around to orientation events in Tokyo for 3 days; spending nearly a full day to get to the island; and dashing about to fill out paperwork, set up accounts, and meet tons of people who will directly or tangentially be part of my life in Tsushima. It’s been exhausting.
Which is why I’m taking immeasurable pleasure today in completely loafing about. There are tons of places to explore in Kamitsushima, the hamlet-like section of Tsushima where I live, but my transportation options are rather limited at the moment. I don’t have a car yet (more on that later), the bike my predecessor left has a flat tire, and my apartment’s really set back from the main part of town. I wandered around a bit on foot a few days ago and came across an ancient Korean burial ground—if I read the sign correctly—near the end of my street. Tsushima is close enough to South Korea that the port of Busan can be seen on a clear day. My supervisor took me to a look-out point, complete with a Korean-style building, as a break from paperwork. It was a little foggy, but I could still make out the outlines of a few tall buildings across the water.
I’m enjoying getting acquainted with my apartment; it has some quirks that take getting used to. Before coming to Tsushima, I’d heard about the poisonous-but-not-deadly snakes, but my real enemy here is much more insidious and difficult to combat: mold. Because the island has such incredibly humidity, it is, perhaps, inevitable, but still a pain. Despite someone’s best efforts with de-humidifying products (mostly absorbent beads in a container designed to suck all of the water out of the air), a few of the walls are horribly moldy. I want to throw the doors open to air the place out, but that would only bring in more dastardly humid air. Mold’s also taken a hold on some things in the bathroom that I’ll have to deal with eventually—I’ve been trying to work up a little courage, it grosses me out too much at the moment—and, sadly, my hot-water appliance (a little larger than a blender, it keeps a supply of hot water ready for tea at any moment). This will also have to be dealt with at some point.
Of course, I’ve also met or learned of other island foes in the past few days, such as cockroaches (one was waiting for me on the outdoor wall of my apartment when I first arrived) and mukade, the nasty species of poisonous centipede. My supervisor also pointed out the driving dangers of deer, Tsushima mountain cat (indigenous to Tsushima and on the way to extinction with ~80 individuals remaining… apparently feline AIDS is running rampant through the population, and they aren’t expected to make a recovery), and wild boar. Last night as another ALT was driving me home from an all-island ALT get-together, we saw a group of maybe 8 baby boars scrambling up a hill next to the road. Totally adorable, but I wouldn’t want to meet their mother in the middle of the road.
-----
That's it. Man... I almost wish I had to worry about mold again (it's a spring/summer-only phenomenon). I guess the choice in Tsushima is "Mold or Cold." And as with most things, the grass is greener on the other side.
Saturday, December 6, 2008
The Lead-up to Christmas
The holiday season is upon America, and the season for explaining holidays is upon me. Really, when you think about it, Christmas is kind of complex-- there's Santa, who really has no relation to the birth of Jesus Christ (a hold-over from Paganism, perhaps? .. but I don't remember any fat men in red suits from my Greek myths. He certainly doesn't show up nativity scenes.. maybe his book from the Bible was just lost somewhere. "The Gospel of God According to Santa." .. which would go something like "merry are they who bounce small children on their laps" and I'm sure would make the Bible even more idiosyncratic and misunderstood than it already is. But I digress.)
Anyway, it's hard enough to get my fellow teachers and students to understand what my idea of Christmas is like, a holiday my family has celebrated every year, much less about lesser-known holidays like Hanukkah or Kwanzaa. Heck, I wasn't even entirely successful in explaining Judaism to one of my teachers today (as part of explaining that not all Americans are Christian and therefore not everyone celebrates Christmas... but some non-Christian, non-Christmas-celebrating Americans do celebrate other holidays in December).
I was, however, completely successful in letting everyone and their Vice-Principal know that Americans in general do not eat Christmas cake. If there's one thing that the Japanese do for Christmas, it's to eat Christmas cake. ..where they got the idea to decorate a fluffy sponge-like cake with fruu-fruu frosting topped with out-of-season strawberries next to a plastic Santa and maybe some reindeer, I'll never know. But most of my teachers think that that's what people do on Christmas. Thus my re-education process begins with the small and tangible. We ain't got no Christmas cake in America, guys. You made that up yourself.
It seems like the past week has been spent endlessly repeating the story of Christmas in a variety of comprehension levels (so far from 2nd grade through 9th grade), and I am starting to long for a bit of a Maine holiday... replete with bucketloads of snow, icicles precariously hanging from the eves, Christmas music playing ad nauseum on every single freakin' radio station, horrendously oversized and ugly lawn decorations, a live evergreen tree sprinkling its needles everywhere, and the cats drinking water from the tree's bottom and batting at bits of ribbon wrapped around the presents.
I think Tsushima took a little pity on me and offered up a rare sight-- the first and possibly only snowfall of the year, last Friday. According to some of my taxi drivers, it only snows in Tsushima about once every 2-4 years. I got lucky; the school I was at on Friday had a 'marathon' (different age levels ran different distances; the poor 9th grade boys had to run a 5K), so everyone was outside. I was part of the cheering squad and was waiting for the last of the 9th-grade boys to come by when the first flakes started to fall. I thought that might be it-- a few spits of snow-- but, to Tsushima's credit, there was actually a half-decent flurry for a few moments. No accumulation, of course (which probably would've caused an island-wide panic complete with mothers showing up at the school and demanding their children return home), and the snow-filled cloud soon passed over. There were other scattered flurries throughout the course of the day, though, which all made me very happy. The kids were so elated too-- at the end of the day during last period, it suddenly started flurrying relatively hard. I was standing at the back of the 9th-grader's class (during their end-of-the-day meeting) and made a surprised sound when I noticed through a crack in the curtains. Everyone looked at me, of course, and I guestured to the window. One of the 9th-grade boys stood up, a grin filling his face, and he dashed out onto the 2nd story verandah, leaned over the raining, and stuck his tongue out to try and catch a snowflake on it. The kids kind of went wild for a moment, but the homeroom teacher soon called everyone to order again. By the time they were let out of class, though, the snow had pretty much stopped again. It is strange for snow to be rare-- that same boy who dashed outside tried to explain that what I was seeing out the classroom window (flurries swirling around Tsushima's evergreen-covered mini-mountains) was a "vision." I wish I could import snow for them to get a real experience; I want all of my elementary kids to be able to make a snowman.
The snow picked up soon after school was out, and as soon as I got home I hopped on the bike to go to the beach. I wanted to work off some aggression from earlier in the day, and I wanted to see the beach in snow. It was lovely; all to myself, the water as blue as ever, the bonzai-like tree on a rock in the surf looking quite confused about the white stuff coming down from the sky. Heading out from my apartment on the bike, I ran into one of my neighbors coming home, and she rolled down her SUV window to say, "Be careful! It's cold!" ..I agreed but couldn't help but laughing later. Somehow snow makes it seem less cold and, anyway, there was no way I was going to stay indoors while such a miraculous thing happened outside. I needed to see the snow to swirl around me, feel it hit my face, melt into my sweatshirt (layered underneath with polypropaline, of course). It was such a beautiful, cleansing snow.
Also, I have decided that the best way of catching a snowflake on your tongue is from a bike. I should tell that 9th-grade boy the next time I see him.
Random bits of news from today:
--it was 11 degrees celsius in the hallway outside the teacher's room at today's school. I used an online metric converter, and that's about 51 degrees fareinheit. Really?! .. it feels so much colder...
--when I arrived at school today, the first thing on my daily schedule, third period, was "Training for taking refuge from intruder." This needed a little more explaining, and I found out that it was running through the school's drill for when a weapon-wielding stranger enters the school premises. Which, frankly, I think is amazing. The elementary school only has about 30 kids and, if you asked me, isn't at a very high risk of attack, but the teachers and staff are very serious about protecting them from every danger. The school had 3 police officers come in at a designated time (the teachers knew when but the kids didn't); one was dressed in dodgy clothing and was the 'intruder' while the other two were present to help direct the kids to the designated safe location. I believe everyone managed to get out without 'injury,' and then the principal and policemen then talked about safety in general and what to do if there is a weird stranger about or you think someone is trying to abduct you. (Both sited recent news stories from the Chiba and Tokyo areas, and there was a story awhile back about an elementary girl murdered near Fukuoka, so there is some credence to their fears).
I didn't understand at first-- jeez, we didn't do this in the states, and America has such a worse reputation for having problems in school with weapons-- but then I started to appreciate that despite Japan's reputation for safety, the policemen and schools are still anticipating the worst. Which, really, is the whole point of safety training. It's to be ready for that one-in-a-million chance. On top of last week's earthquake drill (like fire drills in the states except the kids were instructed to bring a textbook or other flat object to hold over their heads as protection from falling debris... which, frankly, was totally adorable), I think we'll be prepared.
Anyway, it's hard enough to get my fellow teachers and students to understand what my idea of Christmas is like, a holiday my family has celebrated every year, much less about lesser-known holidays like Hanukkah or Kwanzaa. Heck, I wasn't even entirely successful in explaining Judaism to one of my teachers today (as part of explaining that not all Americans are Christian and therefore not everyone celebrates Christmas... but some non-Christian, non-Christmas-celebrating Americans do celebrate other holidays in December).
I was, however, completely successful in letting everyone and their Vice-Principal know that Americans in general do not eat Christmas cake. If there's one thing that the Japanese do for Christmas, it's to eat Christmas cake. ..where they got the idea to decorate a fluffy sponge-like cake with fruu-fruu frosting topped with out-of-season strawberries next to a plastic Santa and maybe some reindeer, I'll never know. But most of my teachers think that that's what people do on Christmas. Thus my re-education process begins with the small and tangible. We ain't got no Christmas cake in America, guys. You made that up yourself.
It seems like the past week has been spent endlessly repeating the story of Christmas in a variety of comprehension levels (so far from 2nd grade through 9th grade), and I am starting to long for a bit of a Maine holiday... replete with bucketloads of snow, icicles precariously hanging from the eves, Christmas music playing ad nauseum on every single freakin' radio station, horrendously oversized and ugly lawn decorations, a live evergreen tree sprinkling its needles everywhere, and the cats drinking water from the tree's bottom and batting at bits of ribbon wrapped around the presents.
I think Tsushima took a little pity on me and offered up a rare sight-- the first and possibly only snowfall of the year, last Friday. According to some of my taxi drivers, it only snows in Tsushima about once every 2-4 years. I got lucky; the school I was at on Friday had a 'marathon' (different age levels ran different distances; the poor 9th grade boys had to run a 5K), so everyone was outside. I was part of the cheering squad and was waiting for the last of the 9th-grade boys to come by when the first flakes started to fall. I thought that might be it-- a few spits of snow-- but, to Tsushima's credit, there was actually a half-decent flurry for a few moments. No accumulation, of course (which probably would've caused an island-wide panic complete with mothers showing up at the school and demanding their children return home), and the snow-filled cloud soon passed over. There were other scattered flurries throughout the course of the day, though, which all made me very happy. The kids were so elated too-- at the end of the day during last period, it suddenly started flurrying relatively hard. I was standing at the back of the 9th-grader's class (during their end-of-the-day meeting) and made a surprised sound when I noticed through a crack in the curtains. Everyone looked at me, of course, and I guestured to the window. One of the 9th-grade boys stood up, a grin filling his face, and he dashed out onto the 2nd story verandah, leaned over the raining, and stuck his tongue out to try and catch a snowflake on it. The kids kind of went wild for a moment, but the homeroom teacher soon called everyone to order again. By the time they were let out of class, though, the snow had pretty much stopped again. It is strange for snow to be rare-- that same boy who dashed outside tried to explain that what I was seeing out the classroom window (flurries swirling around Tsushima's evergreen-covered mini-mountains) was a "vision." I wish I could import snow for them to get a real experience; I want all of my elementary kids to be able to make a snowman.
The snow picked up soon after school was out, and as soon as I got home I hopped on the bike to go to the beach. I wanted to work off some aggression from earlier in the day, and I wanted to see the beach in snow. It was lovely; all to myself, the water as blue as ever, the bonzai-like tree on a rock in the surf looking quite confused about the white stuff coming down from the sky. Heading out from my apartment on the bike, I ran into one of my neighbors coming home, and she rolled down her SUV window to say, "Be careful! It's cold!" ..I agreed but couldn't help but laughing later. Somehow snow makes it seem less cold and, anyway, there was no way I was going to stay indoors while such a miraculous thing happened outside. I needed to see the snow to swirl around me, feel it hit my face, melt into my sweatshirt (layered underneath with polypropaline, of course). It was such a beautiful, cleansing snow.
Also, I have decided that the best way of catching a snowflake on your tongue is from a bike. I should tell that 9th-grade boy the next time I see him.
Random bits of news from today:
--it was 11 degrees celsius in the hallway outside the teacher's room at today's school. I used an online metric converter, and that's about 51 degrees fareinheit. Really?! .. it feels so much colder...
--when I arrived at school today, the first thing on my daily schedule, third period, was "Training for taking refuge from intruder." This needed a little more explaining, and I found out that it was running through the school's drill for when a weapon-wielding stranger enters the school premises. Which, frankly, I think is amazing. The elementary school only has about 30 kids and, if you asked me, isn't at a very high risk of attack, but the teachers and staff are very serious about protecting them from every danger. The school had 3 police officers come in at a designated time (the teachers knew when but the kids didn't); one was dressed in dodgy clothing and was the 'intruder' while the other two were present to help direct the kids to the designated safe location. I believe everyone managed to get out without 'injury,' and then the principal and policemen then talked about safety in general and what to do if there is a weird stranger about or you think someone is trying to abduct you. (Both sited recent news stories from the Chiba and Tokyo areas, and there was a story awhile back about an elementary girl murdered near Fukuoka, so there is some credence to their fears).
I didn't understand at first-- jeez, we didn't do this in the states, and America has such a worse reputation for having problems in school with weapons-- but then I started to appreciate that despite Japan's reputation for safety, the policemen and schools are still anticipating the worst. Which, really, is the whole point of safety training. It's to be ready for that one-in-a-million chance. On top of last week's earthquake drill (like fire drills in the states except the kids were instructed to bring a textbook or other flat object to hold over their heads as protection from falling debris... which, frankly, was totally adorable), I think we'll be prepared.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Kendo Coolness, a Peanut-Butter Thanksgiving, and Yarn Yarns
I have fully committed to the art of kendo. With the onslaught of cold weather-- which I am told will get worse-- the kendo practice space, usually a school gym, is freezing. Proper kendo garb requires bare feet and a cotton robe and split skirt; while I hide polypropaline long underwear under the skirt, there is no saving my feet. One must love this practice to do it all-season (I've also heard it's just as bad in the opposite extreme of summer heat). Wikipedia lists the "Purpose of Kendo" as:
To mold the mind and body.
To cultivate a vigorous spirit,
And through correct and rigid training,
To strive for improvement in the art of Kendo.
To hold in esteem human courtesy and honor.
To associate with others with sincerity.
And to forever pursue the cultivation of oneself.
This will make one be able:
To love his/her country and society.
To contribute to the development of culture
And to promote peace and prosperity among all peoples.
To mold the mind and body.
To cultivate a vigorous spirit,
And through correct and rigid training,
To strive for improvement in the art of Kendo.
To hold in esteem human courtesy and honor.
To associate with others with sincerity.
And to forever pursue the cultivation of oneself.
This will make one be able:
To love his/her country and society.
To contribute to the development of culture
And to promote peace and prosperity among all peoples.
...and, y'know, I think I can suffer through the heat and the cold for the above, especially if some of the first-grade elementary kids I teach can. One of my kendo instructors once said that kendo can't be done alone; while I think he was referring more to the fact that you need a partner to practice the moves with, the moral support helps too.
As part of my commitment to kendo, I invested in a bogu, or kendo armor. Along with the fluid movements, I think the armor makes kendo really intimidating. I would not want to be on the wrong side of one of my kendo instructors when they're all geared up. It was really scary to approach them at first to try to whack them with my stick for practice; opponents hold their practice swords so that they point directly into their partner's eyes. While it's part of practice for an opponent to move their sword aside for their partner to practice a move, it's still intimidating to step toward that practice sword aimed directly at your eyes.
Here is a picture of me in kendo garb and another with two kids who regularly beat me, both first-year elementary kids that I teach. The dangerous munchkin on the right in white is a girl whose father is one of the kendo instructors; the fierce fighter on the left in dark clothing is a boy. (They were both overjoyed that I bought armor because now they can thwack my head on a regular basis, without warning, without causing any damage aside from that to my nerves).
...the armor consists of:
1. A wacky helmet (called a 'men') that appears to have wings (shoulder protection)... this is quite stiff when new and, frankly, I couldn't lift my arms at first, which was a bit troublesome. I felt kind of like an armored penguin until they loosened up a bit. The metal grill is colored red on the inside... which is a little creepy. Why red? ...to hide all of my opponent's blood that gets spattered inside? ...we are thwacking each other with pieces of bamboo tied together, it'd be really tough to draw blood even if you were trying.
2. Long padded gloves (called 'kote') which make holding my practice stick difficult but are good protection against attack.
3. A breastplate-y thing which vaguely reminds me of half of a turtle's shell made of laquered wood wrapped around the front of my body. (called a 'do,' pronounced 'dough')
4. Okay, this is my favorite... a very strange hemi-skirt of stiff fabric which covers the frontal area below the 'do' and has my name written (in Japanese katakana) over, as I believe I mentioned earlier, an area vital for reproduction.
In other news, my second Japanese Thanksgiving was rather intriguing. While two years ago my JYA program provided a turkey dinner (with sushi for our host families just in case they didn't go for the whole roasted-bird-on-a-platter thing), I was completely on my own this year and without access to any of the traditional tidbits. It was also a school day, but thankfully school lunch was rather inoffensive (which can ~not~ be said for the next day's lunch, which included what I believe was battered, deep-fried chicken liver hidden among the seaweed salad and almost made me throw up). I got the chance to try to explain Thanksgiving to my kids, though, which was fun. I even think the 3rd-year students understood; when asked what they were 'thankful' for (a new vocab word), most said normal things like family and friends.
I was scheduled for my first taiko practice Thanksgiving night, so I didn't have much time to make a fancy dinner and instead settled for hand-made tortillas with peanut butter. Hey, it was a step up from a plain 'ole PB&J. The next day the island ALTs were gathering for a "Thanksgiving" get-together/drinking party, so I brought the left-over tortillas and we had a Mexican-themed night. Next time I make tortillas myself I'll get chicken and make quesadillas; the assembled ALT forces put together grilled chicken quesadillas, which were delicious.
This past weekend I also finally re-connected with the woman who runs the yarn store-- her store is only open on an erratic schedule which seems to be subject to whim-- and spent a very pleasant afternoon talking with her and working on my fingerless gloves... which, by the way, are far more complicated that I could have imagined. I didn't realize that each finger is knit individually, and trying to juggle 8 stiches in the round for the pinkie was insane; slick bamboo needles sliding everywhere, nearly-lost stitches edging into non-existance, needles crossed and twisted and madly clicking in disarray. I felt like a newbie knitter again, perhaps in part due to the company I was with. It was amazing to chat with the store owner, who opened the store when she was 25 years old, about 37 years ago. She rides to the store on a motorbike nearly every day (like most of town, the store is closed on Sundays).
I love the feel of the store, which, in addition to hanging out to get instruction on the tricky knitting bits, is why I camped out there for 4 hours. The open-to-the-public portion of the store is really just a hole in the wall, maybe the size of 6 tatami mats. The customers are more like friends than customers; she offers advice as readily as free patterns. And she was perfectly happy to let me occupy the store's second chair and knit away as long as I wanted. I even got semi-put in charge when she ran to the bathroom... although I was a rather ineffecive assistant. Only one person came in while she was in the back, and the visitor was apparently such a long-time customer/friend that she just charged through the store into the bathroom area to have a conversation through the door.
In other day-to-day news... since the weather's getting colder, I've been spending more of the time I am at home underneath my kotatsu (the table with a heater built in underneath and which has a blanket inserted between the heater and the top so heat is trapped inside), which is a very toasty place to be. Staying under the kotatsu, however, is by necessity sendentary. I'm probably getting enough exercise with kendo and taiko, but coming up with things to do while under there is problematic. So I am composing a list of kotatsu-friendly activities:
--making lists ^^
--blogging/e-mail/other internet activities (the ethernet cable stretches far enough)
--jigsaw puzzles
--knitting
--reading "War and Peace," which was recommended by a 2nd-year ALT as a good Tsushima winter read. I'm about 150 pages in and already can't keep the characters straight. It does seem like a slowly-unfolding plot, though (the Russians have only just gotten orders to move into the war), so maybe I'll have some time to get aquainted with the characters before things get really entangled.
Let's end with some random news stories from today:
--the 0 ("zero") series of shinkansen ("bullet train") was officially retired today after 44 years of service. Thousands of people crowded onto train platforms to take pictures and videos and bid farewell to the trains. Many train and government officers officially thanked the trains for their hard work.
--a Hokkaido zoo ordered a male polar bear to be loaned to them to mate with their female polar bear, but the bear that was sent turned out to also be female. The zoo is now searching for an alternative, authenic male polar bear, possibly from the Osaka zoo.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Social news update
Whoa.. when did it get to be November? ..and not just November, but MID-November?!
Hmm.. so there's been plenty of news lately, most of it not postable (non-postable items include things I believe would be offensive to someone and things I don't want the entire world to know). If you want clarification, e-mail me.
In postable news... I'm still working at making Japanese friends, which is going slowly. I've decided to start calling people on those "Oh we should do ~~~ some day" comments and pinning them down with specific dates. This includes my cool kendo instructors with their ambiguous "We should have dinner sometime" and the obaachan owner of the knitting store who promised she'd help me make open-fingered gloves (which I think will be essential winter non-heated-classroom garb). I've been away for the last few weekends (Izuhara Halloween and then the Nagasaki mid-year conference), so this weekend I settled back in the Hitakatsu area and roamed around on my bike for awhile smiling and saying "Konnichiwa" to people-- the nice thing is they have a social obligation to respond and I feel like I made contact with someone. (The bad thing is.. well.. how pathetic is it that a chorus of "hellos" from a bunch of random strangers is the closest I can get to human contact most days?)
...and thus my idea to search for a furry companion. I think if I had a furry companion waiting for me to get home, it wouldn't matter so much if human contact is limited. However, furry companions in Japan are quite expensive and present many other complications. So it may not happen... but even the dream of a furry companion has made the last month better.
While during my darker days I sometimes think that making Japanese friends is a hopeless goal, I haven't given up. Heck, I received my first vegetables this weekend. You know, that landmark that rural JETs always talk about.. sure, it may get old after I get 20 pounds of giant radishes, but right now it's awesome. Someone's giving me vegetables! They like me! Yeah! And now I can make soup!
I also finally made contact with the taiko people this weekend. The Shushu momiji matsuri (maple leaf festival) presented an excellent opportunity to track them down since they were performing. They seemed excited to have me as part of the group, so I gave them my contact info and someone will let me know when the next practice is. Some of the taiko members seemed younger, too, so perhaps my "There are no young people between the ages of 20-35 near Hitakatsu" statement wasn't entirely true. Young people are really rare, though... maybe they're all hiding out in the taiko group, practicing in someone's garage. Hopefully I'll find some more potential-friends in the taiko group.
Hmm.. so there's been plenty of news lately, most of it not postable (non-postable items include things I believe would be offensive to someone and things I don't want the entire world to know). If you want clarification, e-mail me.
In postable news... I'm still working at making Japanese friends, which is going slowly. I've decided to start calling people on those "Oh we should do ~~~ some day" comments and pinning them down with specific dates. This includes my cool kendo instructors with their ambiguous "We should have dinner sometime" and the obaachan owner of the knitting store who promised she'd help me make open-fingered gloves (which I think will be essential winter non-heated-classroom garb). I've been away for the last few weekends (Izuhara Halloween and then the Nagasaki mid-year conference), so this weekend I settled back in the Hitakatsu area and roamed around on my bike for awhile smiling and saying "Konnichiwa" to people-- the nice thing is they have a social obligation to respond and I feel like I made contact with someone. (The bad thing is.. well.. how pathetic is it that a chorus of "hellos" from a bunch of random strangers is the closest I can get to human contact most days?)
...and thus my idea to search for a furry companion. I think if I had a furry companion waiting for me to get home, it wouldn't matter so much if human contact is limited. However, furry companions in Japan are quite expensive and present many other complications. So it may not happen... but even the dream of a furry companion has made the last month better.
While during my darker days I sometimes think that making Japanese friends is a hopeless goal, I haven't given up. Heck, I received my first vegetables this weekend. You know, that landmark that rural JETs always talk about.. sure, it may get old after I get 20 pounds of giant radishes, but right now it's awesome. Someone's giving me vegetables! They like me! Yeah! And now I can make soup!
I also finally made contact with the taiko people this weekend. The Shushu momiji matsuri (maple leaf festival) presented an excellent opportunity to track them down since they were performing. They seemed excited to have me as part of the group, so I gave them my contact info and someone will let me know when the next practice is. Some of the taiko members seemed younger, too, so perhaps my "There are no young people between the ages of 20-35 near Hitakatsu" statement wasn't entirely true. Young people are really rare, though... maybe they're all hiding out in the taiko group, practicing in someone's garage. Hopefully I'll find some more potential-friends in the taiko group.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Those precious moments
The days have seemed a little darker lately both literally and figuratively. This morning I woke before the sun even started to lighten the sky, and the sun's been sinking behind the mountains earlier at night.
For all those dark moments-- like an awful first class with the teacher who assured me there was a lesson plan after my self-intro and then made me wither in front of the class alone until the bell rang-- there's the occasional glorious smiling face.
Like today, after my elementary first and second grade lesson when the teachers announced I would be eating with the first-graders-- they cheered and jabbed the air with their fists like they'd won a prize.
The beaming smile on a first-grader's face as she wobbles her way over to me on a unicycle and catches my hands for balance... and her two friends follow, leaving me standing absolutely steady, a human hitching-post for unicyclists.
The 2nd and 3rd graders who were arguing over who would be on whose soccer team; at first I was considered a burden and no one wanted me (well, I was in pirate garb for Halloween and may have been seen as not wanting to get dirty), but then I showed off my mad soccer skills and the other team demanded another rock-paper-scissors match to try and win me to their side.
The teacher (whose soccer team beat mine... okay, so his goalie skills were far more awesome than mine, but it was my first time being a goalie) who saw me sitting, bored as hell, waiting for the last period to be over and my taxi to arrive. And promptly came over with two kendama (see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kendama if you aren't sure what a kendama is), one for me to keep and one for him to demonstrate his crazy skills. The dude can get the kendama ball to land on the spike. AND he can do it backwards (hold the ball and get the spike to land in the ball's hole). I've never seen anything like it.
The 'tea lady' -- who does so much more than make tea, including custodial work and incredibly creative nature-based arts and crafts projects-- who hauled in a box full of giant pine cones, gave me ideas about what to do with them, and made a copy of a map with the location of her secret giant pine tree grove so I could collect more.
The looks of terror on the 1-4th graders' faces as I growled and came after them with my pirate hook. Hey, it was a class on Halloween. How can I adequately show them what Halloween is without scaring them? ^^ I even got one first-grade girl to shriek and run away.
The adorable sea of kids wearing hand-made Halloween masks, all saying "Twick or tweat" and waiting for me to give them chocolate. Somewhere in the back is a girl with a mask of the pirate's signature skull and crossbones-- surrounded by pink hearts. Oh, Japan.
My taxi driver last week during our discussion of Tsushima's mountains. He looked over the ones surrounding us and, with a dismissive "Eeeeh," said they were "just onigiri." Just rice-ball mountains. The mountains here are shaped like Japan's triangular onigiri. And later I thought, you can't live just on rice balls. Sure, they'd be sufficient sustenence but aren't truly satisfying. One needs more. Even if it's just a milk tea or mikan ze-ri (tangerine jello). I suppose that's what the airline's for.
For all those dark moments-- like an awful first class with the teacher who assured me there was a lesson plan after my self-intro and then made me wither in front of the class alone until the bell rang-- there's the occasional glorious smiling face.
Like today, after my elementary first and second grade lesson when the teachers announced I would be eating with the first-graders-- they cheered and jabbed the air with their fists like they'd won a prize.
The beaming smile on a first-grader's face as she wobbles her way over to me on a unicycle and catches my hands for balance... and her two friends follow, leaving me standing absolutely steady, a human hitching-post for unicyclists.
The 2nd and 3rd graders who were arguing over who would be on whose soccer team; at first I was considered a burden and no one wanted me (well, I was in pirate garb for Halloween and may have been seen as not wanting to get dirty), but then I showed off my mad soccer skills and the other team demanded another rock-paper-scissors match to try and win me to their side.
The teacher (whose soccer team beat mine... okay, so his goalie skills were far more awesome than mine, but it was my first time being a goalie) who saw me sitting, bored as hell, waiting for the last period to be over and my taxi to arrive. And promptly came over with two kendama (see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kendama if you aren't sure what a kendama is), one for me to keep and one for him to demonstrate his crazy skills. The dude can get the kendama ball to land on the spike. AND he can do it backwards (hold the ball and get the spike to land in the ball's hole). I've never seen anything like it.
The 'tea lady' -- who does so much more than make tea, including custodial work and incredibly creative nature-based arts and crafts projects-- who hauled in a box full of giant pine cones, gave me ideas about what to do with them, and made a copy of a map with the location of her secret giant pine tree grove so I could collect more.
The looks of terror on the 1-4th graders' faces as I growled and came after them with my pirate hook. Hey, it was a class on Halloween. How can I adequately show them what Halloween is without scaring them? ^^ I even got one first-grade girl to shriek and run away.
The adorable sea of kids wearing hand-made Halloween masks, all saying "Twick or tweat" and waiting for me to give them chocolate. Somewhere in the back is a girl with a mask of the pirate's signature skull and crossbones-- surrounded by pink hearts. Oh, Japan.
My taxi driver last week during our discussion of Tsushima's mountains. He looked over the ones surrounding us and, with a dismissive "Eeeeh," said they were "just onigiri." Just rice-ball mountains. The mountains here are shaped like Japan's triangular onigiri. And later I thought, you can't live just on rice balls. Sure, they'd be sufficient sustenence but aren't truly satisfying. One needs more. Even if it's just a milk tea or mikan ze-ri (tangerine jello). I suppose that's what the airline's for.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Fukuoka Trip Part 2: Dazaifu and Onsen
... so it's been awhile since the cliffhanger of me cutting rice and eating a delicious lunch with obaachans reminiscent of the witches from Macbeth.. but the rest of that weekend in Fukuoka should be recounted too. (Especially since I'll be back in Fukuoka next weekend :)
After my morning deja-vu-Farmer-Kim excursion to the rice paddies, I decided to take advantage of the city's offerings. Sated by McDonald's and a crepe (well, what did you expect), I meandered about until I found a movie theater and-- wonder of wonders-- something playing in English. Having been out of the movie-news loop for awhile, I didn't realize until after I'd bought my ticket that the establishment was an independent movie theater and the production I'd chosen for its English, "Goya's Ghosts," was a rather dark commentary on art and the Spanish Inquisition with a few horrifyingly grotuitous moments. ...the only other possibly-in-English option, though, was "The Real True Life of Hitler," so I think I made the right choice.
After the movie ended (with a rather touching if bizarre finale), I had my first wrenching moment of homesickness. I had to pass through a hyaku-en (100 yen, like a 1-dollar) store to switch escalators and was walking by a Christmas display-- this was still October, so a little early, yes?!--when the music over the loudspeakers switched to a melancholy English-sounding song. (Sometimes if I'm not paying attention, English songs sometimes sound like they're in Japanese, and vice versa... this one sounded English-y from the beginning, but I think it was really Japanese). The thought that I wouldn't be going home for Christmas really hit me.
I'm not going to change my mind about staying in Japan over Christmas-- it's my first break long enough to really travel in, and I'll have to go back to the states soon enough to check out grad schools-- but I'm going to have to work extra-hard around Christmas to not be depressed. I'm currently planning a 2-week-long sight-seeing extravaganza with Rose, the southern Tsushima lady-ALT, to Osaka, Tokushima, and Kyoto. It'll be nice to revisit some of my old Kyoto haunts, especially the temples that I kind of took for advantage while JYA. And going with Rose, I'll get to take part in her joy of seeing them for the first time. We're going to try to hit up some of my fave Osaka spots too, like Spa World and-- good lord help us get tickets from this konbini-barren wasteland of an island you've sent us to-- takarazuka.
Anyway. I was feeling kind of low after the Spanish-Inquisition-torture movie and Christmas-store-display-inspired homesickness, so when I saw the palm readers at a bookstore near Hakata station, I made a beeline for them. The man who read my palm clearly had no idea what to say (I think he was just trying to sell the mystical palm-reading books), but his hands were warm and he told me my ancesters were watching out for me. Also, I apparently have "Big Love Power" (I applauded his attempt at English), so as long as I try hard things will work out.
Faith in myself, my "love power," and my spectral ancestors who got my back all restored, I called it a day and went back to the youth hostel.
The next morning saw me grabbing more tasty tuna-mayo onigiri and umeboshi for breakfast (it may be an aquired-taste combination) and the beginning of the hunt for Dazaifu and the legendary flying plum tree. I suppose it's time to tell the story of Sugaware to Michizane and how he came to live around Dazaifu and why there is such a thing as a flying plum tree. I wrote a lengthy research paper on the subject during my first year at Smith (during the first-year seminar that led me to Kyoto for two weeks and, in retrospect, had a huge influence over the paths I took afterward), but here's the short rapper's version:
So there was a guy named Sugawara to Michizane,
yeah, he was alright--
liked writin' poetry,
dude stayed up all night.
Haiku, haiku... Hai-KU!
Going 'bout his business
then just one day
the dude got slandered
by the power-hungry Fujiwaras
Fuji-fuji-fujiwaras!
So the Emperor who really liked him
got all in a fuss
believed those dirty liars
and sent Michizane far away.
Away, away-- so far away!
To Kyushu, to exile,
with hardly any family.
Leavin' behind his loved ones
the man was sorrowful.
Sorry-sorry-so very sorry!
So the night he leaves,
he writes one last poem
saying 'bye to his favorite plum tree,
which really meant his family.
Fam-fam fam-Family!
But you know, that plum tree
took it all the wrong way
thought Michizane'd really miss him,
so it flew to Kyushu!
Plum-plum plum-- super plum!
Now that's the best part
but the story doesn't end
Nah, gotta have some ghosties
this is old-school Japan!
Bake-bake-bakemono!
Sugawara finally dies
so far from his loved ones
and strange things start happnin'
to the imperial family
Strange, strange.. so strange.
Lightning strikes a prince
and sets fire to some buildings.
So the soothsayers decide
it's Sugawara's restless spirit.
Comin-comin- coming back at ya!
To appease the angry spirit,
they make him a god--
with the power of lightning and writin'
now he's Tenmanu.
Ten-ten-tenmangu!
So if you need some help
with an entrance exam or two
you know who to pray to
and he'll listen to you!
Ten-ten-tenmangu!
... and that's about as far as I'm going to go with that. Not really brilliant, but it gets the point across in less than 20 pages.
I later learned in my wanderings that the day I chose was a special free market day at Dazaifu (meaning anyone could set up a stall selling goods for free), but when I first arrived, the streets were insanely packed and I thought maybe it was just a popular temple.
The research paper for my first-year seminar was focused on Kitano Tenmangu, the shrine dedicated to the god Tenmangu (the former Sugawara no Michizane) in Kyoto. There are Tenmangu shrines scattered all around Japan, but probably the two most famous are the one in Kyoto and the one in Dazaifu, where the flying plum tree is located. I was a little surprised to see this statue of a bull outside the Dazaifu Tenmangu shrine:
... the Kitano Tenmangu shrine has similar bull-statues leading up the path to the shrine. It's considered good luck to rub the bulls and, indeed, there are many shiny worn spots on all the bull-statues I've seen.
Also similar to Kitano Tenmangu, the Dazaifu shrine has rows upon rows of placards written mostly by high school or university entrance examinees, praying for help during their entrance exams.
And the glory of the shrine, I give you the Flying Plum Tree-- dum dum-dum!
... see, it even comes with a plaque that labels it the "Flying Plum Tree." ...I may try to return during plum blossom season, when it's supposed to be even more impressive. It was such a surreal moment when I found it, though.. it's set prominently out in front of the shrine, but the plaque is hidden to the side, so for a little while I was inconspicuously circling the tree like one does with someone you think you know but can't be sure of, in order to buy time to place the person before charging into a conversation about your previous meeting. And it's kind of funny... I'd traveled to the shrine mostly to see the tree, but most of the other visitors seemed to be ignoring it. I finally confirmed the tree's identity when I simultaneously found the plaque and a Japanese man with an impressive-looking camera started snapping shots of it from all different angles. The Japanese may be photo-happy, but they usually only take pictures of trees if they're particularly beautiful in spring or autumn OR are famous.
Mission accomplished, I spent a few moments in the tree's company and then went to do what all the Japanese people were doing after their brief moments of reverence-- lining up to buy charms and other presents.
Sufficiently under Tenmangu's protection until the end of my studying days (and y'know, I am a life-long learner), I browsed through the shop stalls until it was time for lunch. I decided to treat myself to a very fancy lunch at a wonderful high-quality tofu chain, Ume no Hana, which has an elegant restaurant squirrelled away on a side-street near the shrine. At my waitresses' recommendation, I ordered a plum wine with a full plum a la olive-in-a-martini-glass stuck inside. Very sweet and delicious.
I also specially ordered (aside from a huge and beautifully-prepared set lunch) a few bits of deliciousness that I'd had in Ume no Hana's Kyoto branch: deep-fried mochi on a stick covered in sweet miso sauce. Can there be any higher bliss? (Or any higher-calorie mochi-based food?)
Sufficiently stuffed to last a few meals, I continued on my journey. I'd wanted to spend more time at some of the more hidden-away temples (with richer offerings of statues and art), but my reservations at a traditional ryokan in the onsen/hot-spring town of Takeo, more than an hour away, preceeded sight-seeing. According to traditional ryokan rules, I had to arrive relatively early in the afternoon to settle in and take a bath before resting and then taking, perhaps, another bath.
It was worth skipping out on the other temples. I'd had low expectations for my room at one of Takeo's bath houses because it was so cheap, but the futon was lovely and the sliding doors nicely painted.
The room was also enormous for one person, with a secondary sunny sitting-room that for some reason made me think of Aunt Beth. I don't know why.... maybe it had a family let's-all-settle-down-and-relax feeling, maybe it was the sounds of the rather loud family next door and the kids bouncing around, maybe it was the neatly-arranged alcove for two where a couple could escape while their kids played in the next room... but I think Aunt Beth would've liked it.
Looking out from the double-door/windows in the sunroom was a quaint little homey shrine and garden. I snuck out before I left to leave a little something in the shrine; it was just so peaceful to look at.
... if Aunt Beth was Japanese, I could totally see her camping out here for a week on vacation, letting the kids play in the garden, wandering around town, using one of the For-Families baths.
Takeo onsen was ~so~ amazing... such a nice chance to relax after all of my earlier adventures. I immediately dropped my stuff in the room and took a bath in the place I was staying, then came back to flomp on my futon. Then out for another bath at a different bath-house --wrapped up in my onsen's yukata, clomping around in their geta sandels and trying to not break my neck or get the geta stuck in the street grates lining the parking lot I had to walk through. Some of the baths had rotenburo (outdoor baths), beautiful with elegant gardens and stars above, and some of them were rather scroungy but had locals (great company) and scorching-hot water that soaks worries away on contact. Next time I want to stay longer.
The next morning I got up, made a brief appearance at breakfast (one of those everyone-crowded-in-one-room affairs with seating by room number), and then one last dip in the bath before heading back to Fukuoka and home. A busy weekend but just the solo-adventure I wanted with some nice down-time at the end.
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