On Many Neglected Subjects

I've had too many adventures lately to record them all (and still have time to get out and do all of my upcoming planned adventures), but I'd like to share a few of the more interesting ones, give ya'll a brief update on the newest critter inhabiting my ceiling, and extrapolate on some of the small but intriguing parts of teaching in a Japanese school.

First, my newest apartment guest!




...It took some researching, but this little fellow is a common Japanese crab spider. Not to be confused with the common Japanese spider crab, which is an enormous beast that lives in the dark, cold ocean waters around Hokkaido and looks like it should have its own horror movie series. I thought it was a small crab at first because of its large forelimbs and wondered how on earth a crab could get into my apartment--I do live by a stream that has smallish crabs, but I've never seen ones that small before. Just a spider, though, and quite welcome to scurry around my ceiling as long as it likes.



Onto recent adventures. I finally found the awabi (abaolone) breeding facility up in Waniura. I originally thought that it was a public-funded government facility that bred the awabi in order to repopulate the native population, but it's actually a private company. Apparently people breed awabi in private enclosures in the ocean, much like fish pens, and buy baby awabi from this facility. Sometimes they're also paid to release baby awabi directly into the ocean, from what I imagine is a league of shellfish collectors. Since awabi have to be a certain size to be legally caught, the released babies will get a chance to grow up and breed themselves before they are of catch-able size, thus increasing the local awabi population.


Anyway, it was an enormous facility with rows upon rows of stacked tubs full of awabi. The babies were so cute! ..they feed on flat green seaweed and can grow very slowly. I saw some 2-year-old awabi that were only a couple of inches long; they'll be released sometime in the next year. Some of the 7-year-old awabi, which are kept as parents, were 5-6 inches long.

I've also done a lot of gallivanting about the woods behind my apartment lately, as well as another visit to the site of the old Omega Tower. That area, close to my apartment, used to have one component of a global positioning system developed in the late 60's and implemented in 1971. Only 9 towers were built all over the world, tall and powerful enough that no matter where in the world you were, you could pick up the signal of 3 towers and triangulate your position. The Omega nagivation system was made obsolete by GPS' satellite system. Now the area of the former Omega tower in Tsushima is a park with a great view.

Omega tower park:

And, last, a rant about some experiences in my Japanese schools---


If you've never worked in a Japanese school system, then you don't know how intrusive teachers can be into the lives of their students. Well, for cultural reasons Japanese teachers are held responsible for their students' actions more than the students' parents are--if a student is caught shop-lifting, for example, or smoking, the school is blamed much more than the parents. The parents expect the teachers to be responsible for their students' moral education (there is actually a class called "moral education,") so what I see as intrusiveness may just be part of a teacher's job description.


But I still can't always wrap my head around it. As I type this, for example, the 2nd-grade middle school homeroom teachers around me are discussing a joint lesson they're going to do on nutrition. Their kids are roughly the equivalent of American 8th-graders, and the teachers are worried about how nutritious their kids' breakfasts are.


Of course I want my students to have nutritious breakfasts, but this subject really gets to me for two reasons. First, rice (the whiter and more processed the better) is praised greatly over bread, which from my perspective is a cultural slam. For heaven's sakes, they're both grains. I think part of this reasoning is that rice is more time-consuming to prepare and shows that the mother really loves her child if she gets up early to get the rice going, although no one has ever directly said that. This leads to the second reason I always cringe when the subject of nutritious breakfasts comes up (and it does come up, more than you would imagine)-- mothers are expected to get up early and make their kids a spread of food, with as many nutrients as possible. Bread is a cop-out, taking only a few minutes to toast; if you're a mother, you have to give more! You don't love your children if you spend less than 45 minutes preparing their breakfast! Instant miso soup? ...are you sure you made the right decision in having a child, you irresponsible woman?


I actually got "Tut, tut"-ed when I said that I'd had multi-grain cereal for breakfast. Well, I don't have a child to be responsible for, so I guess they'll just have to get me get away with being unhealthy. But these teachers really expect all of their students' mothers to make rice, miso soup (loaded with freshly-cut vegetables and tofu or some other sort of protein or it doesn't count), preferably a little fruit, milk, and some other protein dish, such as a slab of cooked fish. (Definetely nothing like sushi; not only is that a cultural 'celebration' food and not something Japanese people would eat everyday, but according to these teachers, breakfast must be hot. Yet another black mark against my cereal). The students' fathers aren't even called into the discussion; they aren't expected to help out with cooking, just as they aren't expected to help with cleaning, laundry, or other household tasks deemed 'womanly,' even if both parents have jobs. I know that's the slowly-changing American cultural norm, too, but I can't imagine American teachers sitting around and blaming the mothers' non-nutritional breakfasts of cornflakes on their childrens' inability to concentrate during class. It just wouldn't happen.


I could understand, a little, if the teachers were using non-nutritious breakfasts as a way out of taking responsibility for their students' actions. "Really, Tommy shop-lifted yesterday? And you're blaming me? Well, Mrs. Fisher, I'm so sorry, this is an incredible blemish against the reputation of Hirsch Middle School. I metaphorically prostrate myself in front of you in forgiveness. Clearly we did not do our job in making him an upstanding citizen. But, you know, it doesn't seem like he's able to concentrate very well in Moral Education... are you sure that you're making him a healthy breakfast every morning? If he doesn't start the day off right, we can't do our jobs, you know!"


... but that's not what's happening and, given the Japanese social tendency away from direct confrontation, the above conversation is practically impossible. The teachers are actually serious that making a good breakfast (of their perfect ideal, rice with miso soup and protein-packed side dishes) is a mother's responsibility. Not all teachers, of course, but the ones who do believe this are very vocal.


It just makes the oatmeal-loving feminist in me cringe.

Okinawa Part 2: Scuba Discourses and Yonaguni

The depths of my dives in Okinawa were all around 20-30 meters or 60-90 feet, about the same as Jeju but much deeper than Key Largo. I was surprised at how the depth can creep up on you; the water was remarkably clear with visibility of up to 30 meters in some locations, so it ususally didn't seem to get darker or murkier the deeper you went. I had a brief conversation with Azu, one of the guides, about nitrogen narcosis, which in simple terms is a possibly dangerous physiological reaction to diving deep where you feel intoxicated or like you're on laughing gas underwater because of how different gases in the body react to being under pressure. It can occur at shallow depths but is more likely to be noticable at or beyond 30 meters, around the maximum depths that I was diving. Azu had experienced it a few times but I still haven't.


Unfortunately the weather wasn't great while I was in Chatan, so we were restricted to beach dives almost every day. It usually didn't rain, but the wind made the water too choppy for the boat captains' comfort. One memorable day we went out to a pier where American navy boats dock; there wasn't a boat in port (otherwise it would've been closed for diving), but the nudibranch on and around the pier poasts were very cool. It was a mostly silty bottom, which presented an additional challenge; you couldn't kick too hard or all the silt would get stirred up in the water and decrease visibility to a few feet.


...I hate to complain about it, but the subject came up a few times and it's worth mentioning if only for my future reference. Doug, the divemaster with whom I dived most days, said that a significant portion of the people who come to Chatan to dive aren't certified scuba divers, were never trained properly in the first place, or haven't dived in so long that they have forgotten their training. The non-certified divers are looking for a guided beginner's dive, with the divemaster doing all their bouyancy control for them. The divers who were trained but not very well or haven't dived in years and forgot how also need the same kind of assistant. I think this is a rather unsafe way to dive because you're putting your life in the divemaster's hands. If it's a good, safe divemaster, then you'll most likely be fine, but the good, safe divemasters generally don't like taking untrained people underwater. Also, bringing someone underwater for the first time when they don't know what they're doing is a good way to induce panic, the worst thing that can happen underwater (because just like when you're driving a car or doing anything else, it leads to people doing stupid things). Since I went through the process of getting certified, I know all the risks and dangers associated with diving and how to avoid them; if you know what you're doing it's okay, but if you don't it can be a disaster waiting to happen.

I didn't share any dives with non-trained divers (thankfully there were few enough divers that having two teams, certified and non-certified, were enough to separate us), but during my week of diving I did share some dives with people who had never been properly trained or hadn't dived in years and either didn't have full mastery of bouyancy control and/or went through their air very quickly.


A simple explanation of bouyancy control: when you're wearing a wetsuit (which is most of the time except in the most temperate climates in summer), the same air/nitrogen bubbles in the wetsuit that are designed to keep you warm also make you float. Even the weight of your air tank generally isn't enough to compensate for this and help you to sink, so you need to wear a belt with lead weights on it. This helps you to get underwater. Once you start going down, though, the pressure of the water pushes on the wetsuit, decompresses those air bubbles that were making you float, and decreases the bouyancy, or float-abillity, of the wetsuit. So the same wetsuit and amount of lead that at the surface helped you to get underwater is now making you plummet to the bottom, metaphorically speaking. Since ideally you want to be perfectly bouyant, floating up when you inhale and sinking slightly when you exhale but otherwise maintaining the same depth position, you wear a bouyancy compensator (BC). This is basically an inflatable life vest that you have full control over inflating and deflating (small or large amounts). When you reach your desired depth, you add enough air to the BC so that you can 'float' at that depth underwater and not continue plummeting to the bottom/dragging yourself across coral but also not too much so that you start to float up.


People who aren't good at bouyancy control sometimes go all the way to the bottom and stomp on coral before they get themselves under control. I saw this happen a few times, and it's horrible. The person's fine, but the coral you and everyone in your group went down to see is damaged. Not good or ethical diving.


Of course, when you start to go back to the surface, the pressure on your wetsuit decreases, the air bubbles in it expand, its float-ability increases, and of course you've still got the air in your BC that you put in at the bottom, which makes you super-floatable. It can be really dangerous to rush to the surface, though, so someone with good bouyancy control will release the air as they ascend. (Usually there is a planned "Safety Stop" close to the surface for 3-5 minutes to allow the body to adjust to the decreased pressure and reduce the likelihood of 'the bends' or other pressure-differential related disorders). People with bad bouyancy control won't release the air out of their BCs as they ascend, though, and this is one of the most dangerous things that can happen underwater. I saw it happen a few times during my week of diving. Everyone's ascending in a group, most people letting air out of their BCs, and suddenly, whoosh! There goes Person X, rushing to the surface uncontrollably because they weren't letting air out of their BC and now they're super-bouyant. If the divemaster is good (and all of mine were), they'll be watching everyone carefully for this and catch the fin of whoever is rushing to the surface or otherwise stop them and then deflate their BCs for them. This is also not good diving.


While bad BC compensation can be bad for the local flora, fauna, and/or the diver in question's health, bad air management on a group tour is just bad manners. Slow, controlled breathing underwater means that everyone gets to stay underwater longer and enjoy more. If even one person in the group is constantly racing about, whipping through their air, or isn't completely comfortable underwater and hyperventilates, then whenever they run out of air, usually everyone else also has to go back to the boat, even if you've still got half a tank of air left. Of course, air mangement improves with experience, so I wouldn't expect a newbie diver to have as good air management as a divemaster. But it is irritating when someone who has dived longer than you and with more frequency still has bad air management and because of them you can only have 30-minute dives when y ou're able to conserve your air for 50-60 minute dives at the same depth. There are many other factors that go into air management, of course-- age, fitness, smoking, etc-- which is why it's hard to find a good scuba buddy suited to your diving ability. I definetely missed my Key Largo scuba buddies when I was in Okinawa.

From Chatan, I went south to the remote and western-most point of Japan, Yonaguni Island. I thought Tsushima was really inaccessible, but you've really got to try hard to get to Yonaguni.

It was definetely worth it, though. I spent 4 days diving there with a generally big group of people (8-12)--it was getting towards New Year's and everyone was on holiday. My favorite fellow divers were a couple and a single woman, all three from Tokyo. The couple was elderly, maybe mid-60's, and while their air management was horrible their company made up for it. The wife insisted that I call her "Kitty," and her husband, "Giri-giri-san," which is like "Mr. Close Call," a nickname earned for his ability to nearly empty his air tank with each dive. You're supposed to surface with a certain amount of air left, but his age combined with other factors means that he always speeds through his air; even with what I considered really short dives, he was near empty every time we surfaced. The middle-aged woman from Tokyo I really admired because like me, she came out to Yonaguni by herself and does it every New Year's. I haven't met many truly independent Japanese women, but she sure was.

We spent a bunch of dives trying to see hammerhead sharks with generally bad luck. The hammerhead-shark diving sites are really deep; the group descends to around 30 meters and swims straight, maintaining that depth, while looking for sharks. The ocean's bottom is far below, at least 30 more meters and sometimes too far down to even see, so there's not much to look at while you're searching for the sharks. The water was a gorgeous blue that surrounded us--I've never seen that color blue while diving before, it was like floating in a brilliant blue light. Cool for the first dive or so but it got old fast, especially after two 30-minute dives of not finding sharks. I did catch a distant glimpse of one hammerhead, though, and it was worth all the other dives of looking and not finding. Unfortunately the shark reversed direction and swam away immediately after I spotted it, but as it twisted its body to reverse, its head was outlined in the brilliant blue water. There's no mistake, it was definetely a hammerhead.

I also got the chance to dive at the ruins off the southern edge of Yonaguni. They were discovered in the 1970's by the man who runs the dive company that I went with, and no one really knows how old they are. I twas really cool, though, to see underwater steps and terraces and an arch and holes where building posts used to go. There was a rock that the dive guides said was theorized to represent a turtle (part of what they think was a religious gathering area because turtles had a celestial connection), but I think that was a bit of a stretch.

Ironically, single hammerhead aside, I think my favorite Yonaguni dives were the plain old coral ones that everyone else seemed to be disappointed by (because there were no ruins or large sea life). One day we gave up what seemed to be the fruitless search for hammerheads and went to an area with natural underwater arches and passageways that was just gorgeous. We saw turtles--possibly my favorite underwater critter although it's a close race with stingrays--and many clownfish playing in anemones and other micro life. Underwater geology is just fascinating, to. One of the arches, more of a long tunnel, that we went through was very porous, and after we came out our air bubbles filtered up through small holes in teh rock. It looked like the ocean bottom was breathing.

Unfortunately I haven't invested hundreds of dollars into underwater camera equipment, so I don't have any pictures to share from my diving. I was able to take some decent pictures at the famous aquarium in northern mainland Okinawa, however, so let these stand in for things I saw while scuba diving (or, in the case of the manta ray, would like to see someday).

In the Scorpionfish category, possibly a lionfish.

(those spiky fins are poisonous!)

up close

The underwater love of my life, a nudibranch!
(i.e. gorgeous sea slug)

Another nudibranch. I saw many with this coloring.

The wingspan of this manta is bigger than me.

I'd really like to see one underwater one day!

Yonaguni underwater was fantastic, and on-land was pretty cool too. My diving schedule was pretty exhaustive, but I rented a scooter one late afternoon and the next morning to check out the island. I'd never driven a scooter, so that was an adventure in itself.

This is before I got on the scooter. Once seated and in motion, I was sure that I was going to crash and die, even though I never went over 30 km/hour. It was wicked fun, though.

Yonaguni's most famous claim to fame is the Westernmost Point of Japan.

This is one of those official signs.

"The Country of Japan

The Westernmost Point
Yonaguni Island"

Looking west from the westernmost point of Japan.

...as you would expect, not much to see.

Although I did hear that you can see Taiwan on a really clear day.

Distance from Yonaguni's Westernmost Point to other places.

Ishigaki (next Japanese island over) 117 km

Naha ('mainland' Okinawa) 509 km
Tokyo 2112 km

Taiwan 111 km

I thought the wild horses were cooler than the Westernmost Point, though. They live on the southernmost part of the island. Yonaguni is tiny, tiny-- see visual comparison with Tsushima below-- and there are very few people who live there year-round, maybe around 1,000. Since there is no high school on the island, all the high-schoolers to go boarding-high school on Ishigaki, the next island over (about a 30-minute flight).

A visual comparison of Tsushima and Yonaguni (with my foot for reference).......

Tsushima. Slightly bigger than foot-size.



Yonaguni (directly north from the foot).... maybe 3 toes.

Anyway, even with the island being tiny there's plenty of room for the horses to roam free.

There's also room for goats to hang out nonchalantly on the wrong side of their fence.



I think every place in Japan is required to have at least one wacky tourist attraction, really out there. Yonaguni's is the "Standing God Rock," pictured below. It supposedly looks like a god. Standing. Like they do.




Yonaguni is also famous in the world of Really Dangerous Alcoholic Beverages for having a type of awamori/saki that is 60% alcohol. You drink it straight or on the rocks. The factory where they make it is kind of out of the way, but one day after diving I climbed up the hill to check it out. I taste-tested a few of their offerings, and I think it's truly a skill to make something that strong taste good.



Oh, did I forget to mention that the food in Yonaguni was fabulous?? ..there were more places to stay that I would have imagined for such a small place but very few restaurants, so most of the inns are more like Japanese-style B&Bs that also serve dinner. Here are some of the delicious and sometimes surprising meals I got:

My first meal of 2010. Not pictured: rice and Osaka-style New Year's soup with mochi.

The white stuff was peanut-tofu and to die for.

One of my first meals on-island, and it kind of freaked me out.

Soup- OK. Dark red sashimi (raw fish)- OK.

Mikan/tangerine-OK. Various side-dishes-OK.

Deep-fried fish head with still-flailing fins and gritted teeth- ummm....

Close-up of the fish head.

Acutally, it was rather tasty. I just couldn't look it in the eye.

Last meal of 2009. Not pictured: rice and soup.

I tried and could not eat the pigs' feet (upper left), but

I loved the eggplant tempura, sauteed wheat gluten (upper right), and sashimi.

Okinawa: Naha Beginnings in Chatan

Gaijin-shock aside, after getting settled at my hostel in Chatan I went exploring and ended up on a beach in time for a beautiful sunset.

There were a couple of boys kicking around a soccer ball in the sand and, just across from the boardwalk, a group of what must have been American military folk playing pick-up basketball. It was a little surreal.

Kudos to catering to the American troops, though, because I was lucky enough to find a Mike's around the corner from my hostel. Yes, the delicious American-style Mexican food chain found near military bases throughout Japan (including Sasebo, Nagasaki) originally started in Okinawa. I was very happy to sink my teeth into their bean burrito, covered in awesome -real- melted cheese. Just look at it dripping down the sides into their signature sauce. And, yes, that's a side dish of real sour cream and a glass of water that I didn't even have to ask for!

The next day was Christmas Eve and my first day of diving. I was the only customer so we took it slow and went to the beach around the corner from the shop. This day's two dives were my first beach dives, and I was surprised at how much energy I had afterwards. Climbing on and clamoring around a boat in all of my previous diving experiences must have taken a lot of extra energy, but I just figured that being half-dead after two 50-60 minute dives was normal. The corals at the Chatan beach were nice, and I saw my first sea snake, a white-and-black banded thing that looked like a normal snake but slithered around underwater. I saw one that was coiled around the stem of a coral, hidden from view of fish swimming overhead. My dive times were respectable but nothing to write home about; I did much better in Jeju last October when I was in the middle of 10K-race training. it's amazing how the slightest difference in fitness affects air usage underwater.

After diving, I went to the nearby famous shopping complex amusingly named "American Village."

I didn't think there was much that was particularly 'American' about it, but there were the general city-assortment of international chains like Starbucks, which I appreciated. There was also what seemed to be a special American surplus import store that had really cheap clothes, hats, scarves... just tons of stuff everywhere.

Lining many of the streets were blooming hibiscus bushes, simply gorgeous.

Okinawa culture shock

Last year marked my second Christmas in Japan in a row, and instead of hunting for snow and Santas-on-a-boat in Tokushima, this time around I went south. Far south. To Okinawa.

The idea was to have my first warm Christmas ever and spend as much time scuba diving as possible. I booked my trip with Reef Encounters, an English-speaking dive company located in Chatan, about 45 minutes north of the airport and central Naha. With Christmas craziness (trying to find presents, make cards, and mail everything out in time, not to mention planning entertaining classes on the subject), Saki being sick (in what turned out to be an oops-I-ate-the-mouse-toy-whole-and-now-need-surgery-to-remove-it incident), and hosting some Christmas-y parties, I was too busy to make detailed plans and asked Reef Encounters to make reservations at a cheap hostel for me.

Walking around looking for the dive shop and directions for my hostel, I was a little shocked-- it seemed like a relatively suburban or at best urban sprawl-y area, but there were so many foreigners everywhere, women with small children and babies and African-Americans, all strolling along by the shore. [I don`t mean to stereotype, but after living in a rural Japanese island for over a year, it was quite a sight. I think I`ve only seen foreign children once before in my stay here, on the mainland in a McDonald`s, and I still remember the way the light made their stark-blond hair seem blinding. And as for any foreigners with a dark skin tone-- well, they`re just as rare.] It was a sunny, warm day, and everywhere I looked, foreigners in flip-flops and tank tops speaking English.

Later I learned that the dive shop and Chatan itself is right next to one of America`s larger Okinawa military bases. The families taking a walk probably lived very close by. There`s a lot of controversy over the bases in Okinawa and, indeed, all American military presence in Japan. It`s a complicated subject and I`m not an expert, but I can say that it certainly lends an international and, for me, rather home-y feeling to that part of mainland Okinawa.

The area around Chatan has a multitude of international restaurants, including Mike`s, the same American-style Mexican chain restaurant (everything smothered in real cheddar cheese and oozing sauces) that I found in Sasebo last July for my birthday dinner. I learned that it`s a chain that was started by a former American military person and only found near American bases with the idea of attracting military personnel stationed in Japan. Chatan is also the first place in Japan that I`ve seen graffiti, although once I started looking for it it was all over mainland Okinawa.

I`ve repeatedly heard Okinawa refered to as a very unique place in Japan and occasionally as not a very Japanese place (as if Kyoto was a 10 on a scale of 1-10 of Japanese-ness and everything else falls somewhere lower, is less authentic). Depending on how you look at it, there is some truth to this.

Historically, Okinawa (plus the southern islands of what is now Kagoshima Prefecture, including Amami Oshima) was its own domain, the Ryukyu Kingdom. It seems that they ruled themselves quite nicely for awhile, in a good geographical location for trade (or traders` pit-stops) between China and Japan. In the 1300`s it became a tributary state to China (read: it sent China money/goods to be left alone or minimally under their protection), and in the 1600`s after threat of invasion from Kagoshima`s Satsuma clan, it started paying tribute to Japan as well. Throughout all, the Ryukyu islanders maintained their own language and dialects thereof, but during the Meiji Restoration (late 1600`s), Japan declared the Ryukyu islands to be part of Japan, not just a tributary state. China wasn`t in a position to dispute this, and Japan stormed in with its new education system and forced the Ryukyu inhabitants to learn standard Japanese. These days, very few young people can speak any of native Ryukyu languages/dialects, although some of the older generation still only speak a Ryukyu language.

After WWII, America made Okinawa one of their protective states, which was perhaps justified since the war had completely devastated nearly everything. The US maintained control until the early 1970`s, when (according to the dive master at Reef Encounters, an expert on US military involvement in Okinawa) America allowed Okinawa to take a vote on the future of its status. It could become its own nation again, remain an American protective-state, or revert to being part of Japan. Okinawa voted to become part of Japan again.

If you also take into consideration how far some of the islands are from one another and the western-most island, Yonaguni, is in within sight of Taiwan on a clear day... it`s easy to see how Okinawan culture has great potential to differ from the mainland.

Although I spent most of my time scuba diving and didn`t have as much time as I would have liked doing tourist-y things and learning about native Okinawan customs, I did notice a few small things that seem native to the islands. For one, jasmine tea is usually served in restaurants in place of mainland Japan`s green tea. There are also shisa, or the traditional Ryukyu version of the guardian lion-dog, everywhere. Outside of the tourist shops, I saw them most frequently in rural areas as part of a gate into a front yard, like an outdoor genkan (entryway). They always come in pairs with one on each side of the gate, much like the Korean lion-dogs found outside of Kyushu Shinto shrines.

A few more Okinawa tidbits before moving onto my own personal adventures in the next blog post-- in addition to being the most concentrated area of 100-plus-year-olds in Japan (a country known for its longevity in general), Okinawa is also the poorest of the prefectures. Given Japan`s relative wealth, this may not be saying much, but I did notice an abundance of street-venders, spreading their hand-made jewlery and other wares on plastic tarps on the side-walk. It`s not a common sight in Japan. There was also one woman who had trained a cat to sit on a chair of bar stool-height and prop its paws on the back of the chair. Many Japanese people lined up to take their picture with this costumed cat and gave the woman money for doing so. It`s the closest to begging that I`ve seen in Japan, not including Buddhist monks or people on religious pilgrimages.

... so much for background, more to come later on scuba diving and personal adventures!

Resurrection of the Dead (and other Halloween themes)

I don't know if anyone still actually reads this thing-- even Uncle B's patience might have worn thin after all these months-- but here's to taking another stab at being a regular blogger.

Things that have happened since last May (in no particular order):

--Halloween has come again, and instead of terrifying the kids (a la last year and the pirate costume), I'm opting for laughter. I've never seen anyone Japanese laugh so honestly as when some of my co-workers stroll into the staff room and see my brightly-painted clown face, replete with red foam nose and curly wig (thanks a ton, Aunt B!). It was worth every minute of hand-stitching the costume to see them literally double over with laughter. And a police officer came out of his police box to ask if he could take a picture with me (on the way to pay for my internet bill after a morning of elementary classes).

--I visited Korea, twice. Once to see M. in Seoul and get hideously drunk; I have so much more sympathy for all those poor souls I saw on the floor of Chapin's 4th floor bathroom and even a little understanding for the girl who scared the wits out of me once when I went in for a Monday early-morning shower. The second time was an almost completely sober trip for scuba diving on the southern island of Jeju (hey, a girl's got to have a post-dive beer once in awhile). Great nudibranches and the most amazing soft coral ever. Also an abundance of pro divers who can tell a frog fish from a stone fish at first glance (really, they look the same to me) but occasionally mistake a tube fish for a sea horse (which even I can tell apart... and it was a disappointment, too, because I really wanted to see a sea horse). Great dives, great people, but I did miss my former dive buddies. Ya'll rocked.

--I've tried to be consistent with getting back into running, or at least making myself sign up for races and then train for them. I ran a 5K in early July and then took a long hiatus during the insane heat (well, it wasn't so terribly hot this year compared with last year, but if you're talking about running it was still really hot). I've signed up for a 10K, running-shoe-gods help me, in late November and hope to sign up for either a 10K or half-marathon in mid-January. I recently discovered that running is infinetely easier to get hyped up for when motivated by good music and have been more diligent since starting to run with my iPod. And races exist even in backwards rural-ass Japan if you look for them (and insist that if there's going to be a race, it should be open to women as well as men). ....also, as a side-note, I think running has significantly increased my lung capacity and, subsequently, scuba diving ability. I did some pretty deep dives in Jeju (compared with Key Largo... average usually went to 30 meters, or around 90 feet deep) and still managed to make my air last for at least an hour and up to over 70 mins.

--I've become good friends with a cooking-buddy and have been getting lessons on Japanese cuisine in exchange for American recipies. We've been cooking together since about June, and so far I can make chawan-mushi (oh-delicious-eggy-custard-with-hidden-shiitake-and-other-treats-inside), namban chicken, Japanese-style mixed veggies, loads of sauces, sushi, different kinds of rice, gyoza, and something that greatly resembles American-style Chinese crab rangoons (which don't appear to exist outside of America and, as such, I have had immense cravings for). We've in turn made American staples like meatloaf (plus mashed potatoes and frozen peas... god it was a meal straight out of my childhood), yeast-based bread (challah!), mexican food (tortillas made from scratch and then used to make quesadillas, burritos, and enchiladas). We shall be moving on to sloppy joes next week followed sometime in the future by pizza and meatballs. On the Japanese side, I want to learn how to cook fish-- yeah, it's kind of ironic, I've lived in Japan for over a year and have yet to cook fish... I could say it comes up often enough in school lunch that I get my decent share, but honestly I'm a little scared. In general, fresh fish in the supermarkets don't come pre-beheaded and gutted, and I didn't want to take that plunge by myself.

--While still on the subject of food.... porridge. Oh my god, porridge. Never could I have ever imagined that adding milk to oatmeal could be so delicious. This is also the result of making stuff with my cooking-buddy (who wanted to see what all of the fuss was about in all those British books she's read). Here's a quick recipe that I've made frequently of late (1 serving):

3/4 cup water
1/4 cup powdered milk
1/4 cup plus 2 t oatmeal
1/8 t cinnamon
2 T raisins
1 egg
1/8 t vanilla
1/4 c milk
1 T brown sugar (or honey)

Basically, boil the water. Add in oatmeal, powdered milk, cinnamon, raisins, and stir. If using instant oatmeal, it's done in a few minutes. For the real stuff, it's 8-10 mins. When done, turn off heat. Mix in egg well (stir briskly immediately after dropping egg in), then add in vanilla. Put the oatmeal in a bowl and top with brown sugar (or honey) and milk.

..I found this recipe (with a few minor modifications) from a website that would get more credit if I could remember which one it came from. Also, Japanese cups are slightly smaller than American ones, so if you're state-side you can probably not worry about the extra 2 teaspoons of oatmeal.

--I've discovered many new beautiful scenic points on the island, including one today that was just up a path that I've been running by since last May. I also found an absolutely fabulous snorkeling spot; no need to pay the hefty local diving fees if I can get an experience as good by myself with a snorkel. Pictures to come.

The Return of the Yamori, Mukade, and, of course, Me

I returned to Tsushima last week from a much-needed nearly 3-week holiday extravaganza. My optimism has returned, a welcome guest after the extremely dark months of February-April... during which I gradually devolved into a depressed stupor sustained only by cookie dough (and the occasional carrot... which, really, could only slightly off-set the insanely healthy if enormous lunch I got every day at school) and the furry friend I share my life with. I wonder if running out of vitamins had any effect on my mood. Certainly I was burned out and in desperate need of a respite from co-workers' incompetence and students' apathy.

In any event, those dreary days are gone. The sun has returned, and even the nights are warming. It's a blessed time of year to be outside. I've also gotten a few new JTEs from the mainland who seem to know what they're doing... and, while this leaves me scrambling to figure out what their idea of a competent ALT's job is, it's a welcome change. I wrote earlier about losing my favorite JTE, but having two good JTEs is better than only one. Now I'm only wishing I was elsewhere half of the time instead of 3/4ths of the time. My relationships have mostly deepened with elementary teachers who stuck around, too, so for the most part teaching at my elementary schools has also improved. Life is getting better.

Of course, with the warm weather come my favorite pests to complain about. The yamori (gecko) welcoming committee was just waiting for me to get back; there was a yamori clinging to the outter wall of my shower window all last week, sort of like a yamori stained glass window-- a rather disconcerting thing to marvel at whilst covered in nothing but soap suds. And, as I inevitably knew would happen, it was there to greet me in the shower this morning.

Luckily, I'd opened the shower door before disrobing because Miss Furry Thing loves romping in the shower before I completely soak it down. She immediately discovered the yamori but seemed unsure of what to do besides yowl at it... so much for my instant yamori disposal system. Not that I really approve of her eating geckoes, for the geckoes' sake (not to mention my sudden insecurity about whether or not geckoes are poisonous at all)... but it would've been nice if she'd gotten in there and done the job before I had to worry about it.

Especially since I rather botched the job-- call it lack of practice-- and may have maimed one of the gecko's feet. It was completely unintentional... the thing just wouldn't let itself be slipped onto my special broken-down milk carton gecko/other-creepy-crawling carrying tray. So even as I rescued it from possible death, I got a fresh dose of gecko guilt this morning.

I've also seen mukade scurrying around outside-- none inside, and I hope to my bug-eating yamori guard that it stays that way-- so the pests of warm weather have really returned.

The Obaachan Manifesto*

*To be updated as necessary.

Introduction

My experiences in Japan have already been colored by many memorable obaachan encounters. There are, of course, as many types and individual eccentricities of Japanese obaachan (literally "grandmother," more loosely "old woman") as there are types of any sort of person. It seems, however, that much of my contact with obaachans can fall into a group of distinct categories, which are as follows.


The Oh-You-Teach-My-Granddaughter/Grandson/Great-Niece-Twice-Removed! Obaachan

This category is probably the largest and has the singular ability to always catch me off-guard. I'm usually stooping to tie my shoe, fumbling for car keys, or sizing up a small farmer's stand to determine how many bugs are likely to be found in ~that~ particular head of lettuce. Out of all obaachans, they also understand the least rudimentary English and have the heaviest local accent, making communication all but impossible. This is particularly trying (for both of us) as they try to describe their particular distantly-related relative whom I teach. [In the obaachans' defense, I still don't know all the names of all of my students, and in my defense, there are >300 students whose names I'm trying to remember and many of them resemble each other]. These obaachans are always good-natured, however, and usually leave me feeling very positively about them, their relation, and the world in general. They sometimes also try to shower me with presents, from vegetables to small candies they'd tucked into their purses presumably for just an occasion.


The I'm-A-Million-Years-Older-Than-You-Are-And-Therefore-I-Know-How-to-Micromanage-Your-Life-Even-Though-We've-Never-Met Obaachan

This type of obaachan is the most frustrating for the duration of an encounter. Looking back, however, I get the most amusement from them, if only for their audacious persistence. I still chuckle sometimes, for instance, at the obaachan who peered into my shopping cart last fall, spotted the 500 yen small package of fresh figs among my other selections, and told me I shouldn't buy them because they were over-priced. (She didn't tell me where I could find cheaper ones, of course, because there were no other cheaper ones... they're the first fresh figs I'd ever seen in a grocery store and, indeed, were only available for a few weeks around the time of our encounter).

Oooo, I still get a little annoyed just thinking about it. That was nothing compared with the obaachan encounter of today, however. I was driving along a narrow side-street -- barely enough room for one car-- and discovered an obaachan walking in the middle of the road. Squeezing off to the side (next to the railing beside the river)-- since she did not budge from the center of the road-- I crawled at a snail's pace until she was past and then resumed normal speed. Soon I reached my destination but had trouble deciding where would be best to park.. there wasn't much room and I didn't want to block the street. I'd just reached the building I was heading for when said obaachan came barging over, stormed between me and the person I'd come to talk with, and started telling them how bad my driving was. She went further-- oh the drain of my usual bountiful reserves of patience -- to say that when she first saw me, she worried that it was my first time driving.

Now, I can almost ignore the rudeness of interrupting a conversation. But to tell someone in my presence that my driving is ~that~ bad? ... it's beyond rude, it's insulting. Maybe she didn't think that I'd understand her Japanese. It's a sad characteristic trait of this type of obaachan, though, that they speak with perfect clarity and little trace of a local accent. I nearly almost understand exactly what their beef is and how they think I should change my life.

In today's instance, though, there was not even a trying-to-be-helpful "Why don't you do X instead of your youthful and irresponsible choice Y?" comment. It hurt, too, because I take pride in being a careful driver (some would probably say too careful), but no one over here thinks that I can drive because of the driving-on-the-left thing.

To summarize... this type of obaachan is one of my main pet peeves. They get under my skin and stay there, although I'm sometimes later amused by their audacity. While I don't approve of their blunt methods or rudeness, I do appreciate their honest opinions. Much of Japanese speech is shrouded in polite nothings, like delicate wrapping that must be teased apart from a fragile package. These obaachans' speech can be a refreshing change from that norm.


The Farmer Obaachan

It should be noted at this point that any particular obaachan can, at different times, fall into many different categories. This is a manifesto of 'obaachan encounters,' not obaachans themselves. That being said, the Farmer Obaachan encounter is usually passive; I see Farmer Obaachans tending their fields, hauling their vegetables around in little carts, and shuffling down the road from one field to the next.

There are two distinctive physical attribute, the first being their walk. After decades of laboring stooped-over in fields, these obaachans are usually unable or unwilling to walk fully erect. They are permanently hunched-over, to varying degrees, and shuffle along the side of the road as if they used a cane (which they don't). I thought this was very sad at first, but they are generally happy and love to make plants grow, so they don't seem to mind the toll that the effort has taken on their bodies.

These obaachans' second physical attribute is their complete inability to color-coordinate. Granted, they're working and sweating in the fields most of the day, so one does not expect the fashionable name-brand clothing of the younger generations. However, even the all-for-comfort, anti-fashion-police little old me is forced to reject their blue-background, flower-patterned pants paired with a green jacket layered over a peach shirt, all topped by a deep purple-background, flower-patterned Little House on the Praries bonnet. It's simply too much.

However much I disapprove of their fashion statement in general, one has to applaud their individuality and creativeness. I couldn't dream an outfit like that up.


The Driving Obaachan

Japan is probably one of the few countries which makes identifying obaachan drivers easy. There is a special "Old People's Sticker" that obaachans (and ojiisans, or 'old men,' to be fair) can slap on the back of their car. It's tear-shaped -- appropriately coded for the reaction of the driver who happens to land behind them -- and half orange-red, half yellow.

In Tsushima's winding mountain roads, there are occasional turn-offs along the side of the road. They're meant to help in narrow areas for smaller vehicles to give larger vehicles more space to maneuver. Because passing can be dangerous and difficult, generally slower vehicles also pull over into these turn-offs to allow faster vehicles to pass. Driving obaachans, however, rarely if ever use the turn-offs. If you get stuck behind a driving obaachan, you are most likely stuck there for awhile. Since driving obaachans also usually drive at speeds well under the speed limit, if you get stuck behind one you will most likely be late for whatever you were trying to get to. One has to wonder if they ever check their rear-view windows or if their eyesight is simply too bad to make out the blur of a car behind them.

I can't currently think of anything good about driving obaachans. In addition to the above, they also have a tendency to pull out in front of moving vehicles with very little time for the moving vehicle to slam on the breaks to prevent crashing into them.


Conclusion

Obaachans have many facets and intriguing qualities. Sometimes I love them, sometimes they truly irritate me.... but they're always fascinating. I strive to find the uniqueness and the good that is in obaachans and make those qualities my own.