India

On the way back from Japan, you might as well stop by India. What the hell else do you have to do?

You arrive in Delhi where you meet Mr. Zakheim. He’ll be your guide for the trip. From there you will go to Jaipur, Pushkar, Jodpur, Udaipur, and then back to Delhi. But first, some general points about India.

India is in a constant state of disrepair. Everything is crumbling. The roads are unpaved or unfinished, the buildings are falling apart, the historic sites are perpetually being “worked on”, and the sewers are… less than unobstructed.



Roads – They are congested. There are auto-rickshaws (tuk-tuks) everywhere. Sometimes you see cars. Everyone else rides a motorcycle – sometimes four at once. The tuk-tuks only comfortably fit one driver and two passengers, yet you somehow see ten people piled into and hanging off of them. Despite the considerable amount of human cargo, everyone drives like dangerous mental patients. Traffic rules do not exist. Lines are a suggestion no ones heeds. The motorcycles and rickshaws all jockey for position in between the cars. Basic maneuvers usually taken for granted, like turning and stopping, turn perilous when driving in India. Pull up to a red light on a “two lane” road, and by the time the light turns green, it’ll be at least a six-man race. By some miracle, you will not be killed going from place to place. As a travel agent once described it, “everything falls into place.”

On the road, the only way people signal to each other is by honking their horns. Passing a pedestrian? Honk the horn. Coming up on another rickshaw? Honk the horn. About to turn? Honk the horn. The sound loses all meaning when it’s constantly coming at you from every direction simultaneously.

Rubble – on every block there is at least one pile of rubble. Where does it come from? There is no way to know. Sometimes it’s gravel. Other times it’s pieces of bricks (never whole bricks) or broken bits of stone. It serves no discernable purpose. It can’t be used to build (what are you gonna build out of a heap of broken bricks?). And it usually doesn’t look like it necessarily came from a nearby demolished building. Sometimes you see people sweeping small bits of rubble (like gravel) into little trays – ostensibly to move it into another pile.

Buildings – many are either half built or half falling down – it’s impossible to tell. Below is picture of a typical scene on an Indian street. You tell me, is this building being built or torn down?



Cows – they are everywhere. Yes, the rumors are true. They walk unmolested in the streets, lounge on piles of rubble, eat the trash lying around, and shit – everywhere. There are no efforts to control them. If a cow decides to hang out in the middle of the road, so be it. Traffic will be backed up for miles.

Dogs – also everywhere. In the middle of the night, you may hear bands of wild dogs howling in the street outside your window. Do not be alarmed. They will not attempt to ram the door.

Heat – India is oppressively hot. Despite this, all men wear slacks and a collared shirt – every one.

The day after you arrive in Delhi, jump on a bus to Jaipur. The bus will be cramped and in slight disrepair. You won't know it at the time, but this will be the nicest bus you will be on in India.

Saigo

So, today was my last day of classes. We played games. Everyone had fun. It was great. One of the games we played was “ask Seth a question, and if he laughs you get bonus points”. The first graders did a great job. They came up with better, funnier, more original questions than the third graders. They’re a really smart class. It’s days like this that I regret my decision to leave. But, unfortunately, the vast majority of days are much much slower – skull-crushingly boring, in fact.

I can’t believe the year went by so quickly. It almost feels like I just got here. Still, I’m bored at work and there’s nothing to do in my town, so I’d just as soon go. I can’t help but think that if I had been placed in a more vibrant area, I’d be staying longer. Of course, I could have been placed even further into the middle of nowhere…

Japan is no longer an adventure. It’s become normal. It’s time to move on. I know I’ll miss it though (especially the service – I don’t know if I’ll be able adjust back to customer service that doesn’t grovel at you – just the other day, I saw a gas station attendant block traffic to let a customer safely exit, and then he bowed deeply to the car as it drove away – that’s service).

Anyway. I have to be out of my apartment in about a week. This’ll probably be my last post (unless something interesting comes up).

Thank you (both of you) for reading.

Arigato gozaimashita!

Paying Respects

Our school's science teacher’s father-in-law just died. The funeral is today, but last night the staff all went up to the Kofu funeral home to pay our respects at the wake-like-event.

So we get there (everyone’s in black – not surprisingly), walk in, and get in a long line. The line leads around the corner to a room where I can hear Buddhist chanting. There are a ton of people there – both waiting in line, and on their way out. I mean, I barely talk to this teacher, and I’ve never met his wife. I bet a lot of the people there were as loosely affiliated as I was. When you die in Japan, all the people-you-know’s friends and co-workers will come and pay their respects.

So, I’m standing in line, trying to figure out what’s going on. There is a group of men sitting behind tables near the wall. The men are friends and neighbors. People are giving them money. The money is in a special envelope and is either $30 or $50. This is a custom. The line leads to a room with an alter. Immediately in front of the alter is a priest, who is chanting. Behind him, to the left and right, are family members sitting in two groups, facing each other. In the center of the room, there is a table with four sets of incense jars(?). This is where the line leads. The people come up, four at a time, bow to both sets of family members (on the left and right), put their hands together for a second to pray, then take a pinch of incense pebbles(?) in their fingers, hold it up to their face (eyes closed, faced bowed), and put it in the adjacent jar(?). Then they “pray” again for a second, bow again to both sets of family members, and exit to the right. It takes about 15 seconds.

As I exited right, there were more men to bow to. Among them was the teacher. He thanked me. But, standing next to him was our principal. Was he well acquainted with the deceased? No, he was not. Then why is he in a place of honor? Because he is Kirikane Sensei’s boss. In Japan, if a family member dies, your boss will have a respected position at their funeral.

Leaving the room, there is a funeral home employee that hands out moist hand towels and thanks you for your hard work. Behind her is a group of woman (friends and neighbors) who hand out gifts. The gift is a set of special money envelopes – for funerals.

Farewell

Friday night was my farewell party. Of course, I didn’t hear about it until the day before:

“How are you going to the party tomorrow?”
“What party?”
“You’re farewell party.”
“Um… I kind of made plans…”
“But you have to go to your farewell party.”
“Why am I only hearing about this now?”
“I don’t know. We’ve been talking about it for weeks. No one told you?”

So, I had to postpone my plans… I’m not sure why they scheduled the goodbye party so early. I’m not even leaving for another month…

The party was fun. I sat next to the principal, per his request, so I wasn’t near Kae (who usually translates the goings on that I don’t understand). But the speeches were largely about me, and while I understood a lot of it, there’s also a lot that I missed. I wonder what they said… Then, I got up and gave a little speech. By the time the speeches were done, the hot food was cold, and the cold food was warm. Oh, Japan…

During the enkai, the principal asked me if I knew Simon and Garfunkel. Apparently he really likes them. I told him yes. He asked me if I knew Bob Dylan. I said yes. He asked me if I knew John Denver. I said yes (one song counts, right?). He was so impressed that I knew these old bands. “Subarashi!” he said. “Ii na!” he added. “We will sing at karaoke.” Uh oh…

After dinner, the partiers decided to go to karaoke. Most of the teachers went home (including Kae – she got the hell out of there). I really don’t like karaoke, but, because it was my party, I had to go. Plus, the principal really wanted to sing with me. So, we went. We sang some Beatles and (odd versions of) Simon and Garfunkel songs. It ended up being fun. The principal was really drunk. He was practically falling asleep while the other teachers were singing Japanese songs. He really can’t hold his liquor.

Rock, Paper, Scissors

When it comes to kids in Japan, every decision that needs to be made is done by playing Rock, Paper, Scissors. It’s called “janken”. What side of the room do we start at when picking new seats? Janken. Who wants this extra dessert? Janken. What are the teams? Janekn. Who’s going to volunteer? Janken. What’s the turn order for this game? Janken. They have it down to a science. And they do it so quickly, sometimes I’m not even sure what’s happened. Did you know you can play Rock, Paper, Scissors with upwards of ten people? You can.

So, for my first lesson with the little kids in elementary school, I teach them how to play “janken” in English. It’s absolutely the most useful thing they could know.

Speaking of the little kids, the second graders are completely out of their minds. There are ten kids in the class and at least six of them have some sort of advanced case of ADD. They just can’t focus or sit still – for a second. You can’t take your eyes off them. When you turn around for two seconds to draw a little picture on the board, all of a sudden there’s a kid right behind you. When you warm up with twenty jumping jacks (to practice counting – and to tire them out), they can’t help but to bounce into each other – and you. When you play a game that involves moving about the room, you’ll inevitably find a couple kids hiding under the piano, or rubbing their heads against the earthquake helmets hanging on the wall.

The Phone

Talking on the phone in Japan is a procedure. There are no quick phone calls. First, you start out by saying “hello” and giving an elaborate introduction of yourself in the most formal language possible. Then you apologize for disturbing the other person (both people do this). Then, the conversation can go anywhere, but it always consists of a lot of agreement. A friend of mine counted 32 enthusiastic “hai!”s in a row when one of his teachers was on the phone. When the conversation is finished, both sides apologize to one another. Often, this is accompanied by bowing – to the phone – usually just the head and shoulders, but I’ve heard tales of deep, from the waist, full body groveling – to the phone.

Honesty

Kae gave back a test today, and, like all teachers do, she made some grading mistakes. Of course the kids who got cheated out of a few points came up and had their grade bumped, but the kids who benefited from mistakes came up as well. I was kind of shocked. And it wasn’t just one or two kids, it was several. They all came up to have their grades lowered. I thought the rule for beneficial teachers mistakes was “keep those points.” Not here…

School of Rock!

Today, there was a Yamanashi middle school track meet. About two thirds of the students and teachers went. I didn't. Those that remained had a half day. We had class. But because we couldn't teach the curriculum with most of the students gone we had to come up with another idea. Then, the unthinkable happened. Flexibility was shown. The schedule was changed so that all the kids had English and music back to back. We combined all the classes and watched "School of Rock". It was awesome.

Then we spent fourth period outside with gardening tools, in a half-assed attempt to rid the sports field of the grass that has grown there.

Meetings!

To emphasize the Japanese fixation on meetings, I'm copying the itinerary from my friend's school's overnight. This is is:

[It is the schedule for a 2 day/1 night trip to Takato, Nagano. The Shimobe passion for meetings has gone beyond pathological. Sorry it lacks detail but I am a little busy right now.

7:00am meet at Tokiwa station for a meeting,
7:30am board bus (speeches fill the 2.5 hour ride)
10:00 arrive in Takato and have a meeting/opening ceremony
10:30-2:00 orientation activities in Takato (includes lunch)
2:00pm award ceremonies and meeting
2:30pm drive to hotel
3:00pm meeting in parking lot to discuss opening ceremony at hotel - I am serious!
3:30pm opening ceremony at hotel to discuss hotel facilities and schedule
4:00pm go to rooms. Students free time/teacher's meeting
4:30pm meet in gym for dodgeball game (short opening ceremony of course)
5:30pm closing/awards ceremony, explain where dinner will be served etc.
5:45pm meeting in lunchroom to discuss what food is available at the buffet.
6:00pm itadakemasu meeting (10 min) and dinner
6:45pm gochisosama meeting and how to clear your table (15 min)
7:00pm students free time/teacher's meeting (5 hours)
12:00pm lights out.

6:00am rise and shine (fold bedding and cleaning)
7:00am morning meeting (opening ceremony)
7:45am breakfast meeting (what food is available at the buffet)
8:00am breakfast
8:45am meeting to discuss next activity (which is making lunch)
9:00am meet at firepits for a meeting on how to make lunch
9:30am begin making lunch
11:00am tanoshikatta meeting while food gets cold
11:15am eat
12:00pm meeting to discuss cleaning procedure
12:15pm cleaning
1:00pm inspection and closing ceremony
1:30pm go play gateball
3:00pm closing ceremony at hotel
3:30pm tanoshikatta speeches on bus ride home including a 15 minute speech by Mochizuki at the rest stop.
6:00pm arrive at Tokiwa beer store and buy a 6 pack of tall boys - chug 3 in the first hour with the lights off and curtains drawn rocking back and forth whimpering.

It all adds up to something like 18 hours of meetings in a 36 hour trip (half the time, including sleeping and transportation)]

He hates his school.

Japanese TV Part 5

Sometimes I just don't understand...

The rage in Japan is comedy fads. A performer finds a bit that's sort of funny. He performs it on a variety show. It gains popularity and becomes a sensation. But the funny thing is rarely a character, or a sketch. It's usually just a single joke. One bit. And it becomes a sensation. These things, naturally, only last about six months before fading away, and the performer becomes a panelist on another variety/game show.

Right now, this guy is the current fad. All he does is count. And when he gets to 3, 5, sometimes 6, sometimes 8, and 9, he does a funny voice. That's it. That's his whole thing. My kids love it. They love when I do it. They come up to me and say "ich, ni," hoping that I'll say "SAN" in a funny voice. They can't get enough of it. I think its the stupidest thing ever.

When I came to Japan, this guy was the fad. In this clip, he's doing a commercial for a Pokemon-like game called "Dragon Tamer", but the shtick is virtually the same no matter what the context. Six months ago, the kids liked when I said "sonnano kanke ne" and did the thing that he does, but now they don't care about that. This guy has retired his speedo and now appears (fully clothed) on variety shows.

Before I came to Japan, about a year and a half ago, Hard Gay was the fad. He actually does a character, so I think he's idea had more legs than these other things. But now, he's old news.


Update: I don't know why, but some of those links went down. Here's another video of Kojima Yoshio - the "opapi" guy. Here's the counting guy - counting in English for an American guy - this is extra weird...

Student Teachers

For the past three weeks, we’ve had two student, English teachers come and train at our school. A couple points about that:

1. The teachers both went to this school when they were junior high students. Apparently, all student teachers get placed at their hometown school if it’s possible.

2. Kae was responsible for supervising the teachers, but she sat out the lessons. I taught the lessons with them while Kae sat in the back.

3. Going over lessons with the new teachers was entirely tedious. One of them spoke practically no English. (“How is she going to teach English?” you might wonder. “Entirely in Japanese” is your answer) They insisted on going over every point of the lesson with me. Whereas Kae takes for granted that I can read the example dialogues she write, the new teachers wanted me to practice with them. Maybe they just wanted to practice reciting the English, but they way they approached it was as if the practice was for my benefit. I know how to read and speak my own language, thank you very much. Also, these detailed goings-over included things like “now I will put the picture you are talking about on the board.” As if I would get confused/angry if they suddenly put up a picture of the very thing I’m talking about. (Here’s what that would look like: “This is Ken… what… what are you doing? What’s that picture of Ken doing on the board? You never said anything about a picture! Take it off the board! Now, get out of my sight! You’ve failed the student teaching seminar!)

4. The students were so respectful of the student teachers. Even the class that usually goofs around was stone-cold silent and obedient. I was amazed. In America, whenever there’s a new teacher – substitute or student – the kids always test them to see what they can get away with. I remember. I did that as a kid. I mean, sometimes these kids don’t pay attention, or they talk to their friends, but they never maliciously challenge a teacher’s authority like American kids do. In fact, they behaved better with the guest teachers.

At the end of the day, after brass band club, Kae asked me to stay a little longer because we were going to have a small going away party for the student teachers’ last day. I was promised cake, so I stayed. This brings us to 6:30. Everyone sits down in the tea room, with their cake, and instead of just having a pleasant goodbye snack, there had to be speeches. Japanese people can’t do anything without formality getting involved. By the time the closing speeches were made, the little cake get-together lasted almost hour. So I didn’t get home until almost 8 – on a Friday. And I left early. Most of the other teachers are still there.

Apparently There’s a Pool

On Wednesday, my afternoon elementary school classes were cancelled. So, on my way out the door for lunch, I said goodbye to everyone and they said “see you next week.” I figured I was in the clear and wouldn’t be expected back in the afternoon. But then some other teachers, along with the principal, came up to me and told me that, this afternoon, everyone would be cleaning the pool. Then, they said (at least this is what I had thought they said) “we want you to come help us clean the pool.” I obviously didn’t have an excuse (being that I’m usually at that school on Wednesday afternoons), so I said I would. They practically cheered. “Really? That’s so great! Thank you so much! Who would have guessed?!” It’s almost as if they were expecting me to say no. I think they were expecting me to say no. I wish I had known that.

After lunch I change out of teaching clothes and into pool cleaning clothes and head to the pool. I didn’t even know the school had a pool. Apparently all the schools in the area (elementary and middle) have pools. But they only use them, like, twice a year. I guess because the kids don’t have the summers off, a little bit of pool time is put into the schools’ yearly schedule. I don’t know why each school needs a pool though. If they only use it twice a year, wouldn’t it make more sense to have one pool that the kids get bused to on their two pool days? It would.

So, when I get down there, the kids are already there – in their gym/pool-cleaning outfits – blue shorts, white shirt, red hat. I get a look at this pool – it’s filthy. There’s an enormous puddle of mud in the middle of it. No one has heard of a pool cover.

There are actually two pools – a kiddy one (not nearly as dirty) and a big one (filthy). I get assigned to clean the big one along with the fifth and sixth grade boys. Everyone gets a scrubber-brush and a small piece of wood (for the stuff that the brush won’t quite get). We all get evenly spaced along the width of the pool. Everyone gets a small four or five foot wide section running the length of the pool. Then, as coordinated by the teacher in charge, we all clean a designated section at the same time. First, clean the wall. After a few minutes – stop. The teacher comes around with a hose to rinse it off. Then, scrub your area up to the line. After a few minutes, stop. The teacher hoses it off. Then, use your piece of wood to scrape the stuff that’s really stuck. Then we move on. This is how the cleaning proceeds – for the entire pool. Notice that cleaning times and sections are uniformly allotted. So, if you had a section that was particularly dirty (as many were) you were given the same amount of time to clean as someone with a much less dirty section. In that case, you only have enough time to scrape off the first layer of dirt – or whatever you could get to. “We’re finished cleaning this area whether its clean or not” seemed to be the attitude.

This further supports my thesis that, in Japan, the purpose of cleaning (as it concerns school cleanings) is not to make things clean. Rather, it is a socialization ritual. The point is that everyone is there and participates. The cleaning is regimented so that everyone participates equally. While this practice does not result in clean pools or schools, it does have an effect on the kids. None of the kids have attitude or a sense of entitlement. Even the “bad” kids, who goof off a little during the cleaning, don’t challenge the system that forces them to clean. In America, if you did this to kids, you’d get an earful of “Are you kidding me”s and “I’m gonna tell my parents about this”s and “I don’t want to do that”s. It could just be that this is a small town I’m teaching in. Maybe the kids in more metropolitan and affluent areas of Japan have more attitude. Or, maybe the cleaning thing actually works…

Anyway, when we were finished, the pool was still dirty. I mean, the puddle of mud in the center was gone, but the dirt and calcified… things… that were really stuck, remained there. Did we make progress? Absolutely. Do I want to swim in this pool? No. Should they have hired someone to do this? Yes.

Sumo! and other stuff

So, this weekend I went to Tokyo to see some sumo matches. Here are some pictures.


This is the stadium. We got there a little early.


This is the first part of the ceremony - where all the guys in the same class (who are about to wrestle) come out. There's a lot of ceremony for a sport that consists of two guys in diapers trying to push each other out of a circle.


Then this guy comes out and purifies the ring by screaming and stamping his feet.


When the wrestlers come out, they line up and look at each other.


Then they stamp their feet.


Then they go to their corners and throw salt onto the ring to purify it.

They do this several times - going to the center, looking at each other, and then going back to their corners to stamp their feet, slap themselves, and throw salt.

When their ready to fight, they go back to their corners - to get psyched up.


Like this guy right here.


Then they fight - like these guys.


Then someone ends up on his face - like this guy.


Or thrown out of the ring - like this guy.


This guy had a lot of sponsors.


On Sunday, I went to Harajuku where things happen on Sundays.

First, there's the Rock-a-Billy guys with the big hair.


They're there every Sunday.


They have big hair.


And they dance around.

There are also a ton of bands that gather along the sidewalk leading from the train station to the park.


Like these guys.


And this guy.


And his fans, who all know to lean back in unison.


This band is cool. They're an all female (except for two guys) calypso, steal-drum band.


And of course - this band.


In the park, there was a Jamaican/Reggae festival going on. The music wasn't great, but the food was good, and the crowd was interesting.



Check out this group


Um...



More crowd.


And, that's that.

Eternity

Today the principal overheard a conversation I was having with Kae about me returning to America. He interjected by saying that I didn't have to return. I could stay in Japan forever. In fact, he has an open room in his house that I can stay in for free - forever. I can't tell if he's kidding. I don't think he wants me to go.

Speaking of forever, despite the insistence of the girls in brass band, the "official" music room fish are not sleeping, or resting, or taking a break, or on vacation. They're dead. They're floating belly up over murky water. Some of them are decomposing. It's not pretty. I just noticed it today, but god knows how long they've been floating there. I think the filter broke - or someone shut it off. I accused Aiko of killing them. She yelled at me, "Sleeping!". After much arguing, we compromised - they're sleeping forever. For eternity.

Nerds!

In a previous post I mentioned that JETs were nerds. In fact, most of the foreigners who come here are nerds (or, at least nerdy in some way). I had wondered, “what is it about Japan that attracts nerdy people?” Wrong question.

I was talking to Kae about the new JETs coming in this summer. She said that she had heard that the ones coming to our town had all studied Japanese culture. She wondered aloud if they were otaku. I said that they probably were. Most JETs are nerdy – even the ones that didn’t study Japanese culture in school. I wondered aloud why this was so. So, she asked me if I thought that Japanese people were nerdy.

The Japanese, as a people, are nerds. That’s it. It was so obvious, but I somehow never put it into those words. I had previously wondered why Japanese people liked nerdy things like fantasy, video games, and cartoons, but the answer is embedded in the question – because they’re nerds. The people here are polite, obsessive, and lack self-confidence – they’re nerds. They love cute things, corny music, and anything associated with Disney – nerds.

So, I told her “yes.”

Now, the question is “why are Japanese people nerds?” Is it a recent phenomenon or is it ancestral? The samurai weren’t nerds, were they?

Otsukaresamadesu

I don’t know if you read Slate, but I do. Last week they had a feature on procrastination. This is relevant because I am, as you may know, a chronic procrastinator (it’s really a miracle that this blog even gets written). And, if you’re reading this, you’re probably procrastinating a little right now. That’s ok. We can work through this together. I’ll point you in the direction of an article that embodies my feelings about procrastination:

http://www.slate.com/id/2190918/

And one about procrastination in other cultures:

http://www.slate.com/id/2191310/

This article posits the theory that the Japanese may, actually, procrastinate more than Americans. I want to say that this is absolutely true. In Japan, procrastination is not the problem of the individual, as it is in America, rather, it is institutional. Procrastination and inefficiency are actually built into the Japanese system.

Every morning we begin the day with a morning meeting. This is an entirely useless activity. Someone stands up, tells everyone to stand up, then we all bow and say “good morning” in unison. Then, the meeting coordinator gives the date and says that the meeting is starting. Then he/she gives the floor to the principal. He says a few words about how the day is starting before passing the conch to the vice principal, who says something equally useless. Then the homeroom teacher for each class talks about who’s absent today and why, and other useless information. Only occasionally (when the schedule is different or there is some event later in the day) are the contents of the meeting of any relevance. The whole thing is just a waste of time.

And so are the staff’s daily activities. Some teachers are actually busy, but what is the vice principal doing all day? He never leaves his computer. He sits in front of it for almost twelve hours a day. What is he up to? There’s no possible way that the vice principal at a junior high school with ninety seven students has so much work that he has to put in twelve hour days. The principal pretty much blatantly has nothing to do. He’s constantly walking aimlessly around the staffroom, and whenever I look into his office, he’s staring out the window. They’re both wasting time. But the key is that they look busy. You’ll almost never see a Japanese person blatantly wasting time (that’s why the principal’s behavior is so shocking). Everyone masks their procrastination by making it look like they have a lot to do. The appearance of work is vastly more important than actually doing work. That’s why it’s such a big deal that everyone comes in on time and leaves very late. You get paid to be at work, not to do work. If you come in late or leave early, you must be lazy. Even if you only have three hours worth of work to do, you must stretch it to twelve hours. To be efficient is frowned upon. To be efficient is to finish early, and to finish early is to be lazy. To be efficient is to be lazy.

Earthquakes

Last night, before falling asleep, I thought I might have felt a little rumbling. It was very subtle, and I was half-asleep, but I could have sworn I felt something. Turns out, I did. There was a 6.8 quake 100 miles from Tokyo – in the ocean. Apparently, the city got a little rattled. No tsunami though…

Japanese TV Part 4

This one might win…

Over the weekend, I was watching TV late one night, and I came across a gem of a Japanese TV show.

There’s this J-Pop singing group (called AKB 48) that consists of about 40 high school girls (in school uniforms). A bunch of them were on this weird show (in their uniforms – of course). They were broken up into two teams, and they were playing a game that I’m going to call “Guess Who’s Being Electrocuted.” The host of this show (with giant Elvis hair) lines up six of the girls from the Red team, and puts little electrodes on the first one. Then he tells his goofy assistant to turn the “switch on.” The girl flips out, shakes a little, drops to her knees, says it hurts, and then they turn off the electricity. He does the same thing with the other five girls – to similar effect. Meanwhile, the Blue team is watching how each girl reacts to being electrocuted. Then, they secretly put electrodes on only one of the Red team girls, and turn the switch on. All the girls react as if they’re being electrocuted – trying to mimic their initial reaction moments earlier – flipping out and such. Then, the Blue team has to guess which one was actually being electrocuted. They guessed the wrong one.

Then, the Blue team got electrocuted and the Red team had to guess.

That’s all I have to say about that.

Golden Week

This past weekend was Golden Week. It’s a long holiday – not actually a week – rather a four day weekend, but I’ll take it nonetheless. Everyone travels during Golden Week. I went to Yokohama and Kamakura with some friends.

Tip: Don’t travel during Golden Week.

Yokohama was cool. Much like any other Japanese city. It’s famous for its Chinatown. The Yokohama Chinatown is more like a tourist attraction than a residence for Chinese people. The Yokohama Chinatown didn’t seem to be a residence for Chinese people. Rather, it is a place that Japanese people go to get a taste of China within their own country. The place was packed with Japanese tourists. So many filled the streets that it was hard to move. The shop owners were Chinese, but I didn’t get the sense that Chinatown was a community that the Chinese people actually lived in. It was more like a theme park with gift shops and Chinese restaurants.

We stayed a few blocks from Chinatown, in a hostel. The part of town we stayed in was one of the strangest places I’ve ever been. The streets were run down (which is really strange for Japan) and there were barely any young people (strange for a city). In fact, almost all the residents of this part of town were old, crusty looking men. Most of them walked with a limp. And they were all over the neighborhood. Around every corner, there was another group of hobblers. It was like a zombie movie. “Day of the Living Dead,” I’d call it (they all went to bed early, but were up shuffling around aimlessly shortly after sunrise). It was really, really weird.

Also really weird was this sea-world type attraction outside the city. It was celebrating its 15th anniversary, but it looked really run down (eerily atypical of Japan). Also, the people there looked seedier and fatter than the Japanese people I’m used to seeing. And the employees in the (American style) food court weren’t very polite. It was almost like being back in the States…

Kamakura was cool. There’s a daibutsu (really big Buddha statue) there. But, it was super crowded. The trains were packed. Absolutely stuffed. And just when you thought they couldn’t get more crowded, additional people somehow squeezed themselves on. It was so bad that the omiyage I bought for the tearoom at school got a little crushed.

Yatta!

Yay! I actually did it. I got boys to join the brassband. I don’t know if there have ever been boys in our school brass band (in the photos of past year’s brass bands there’s not a single boy – and those go back for I don’t even know how long). But, now there are. Thanks to me. Someone give me a cookie.

A few weeks ago we did that demonstration I mentioned. All the kids assembled in the gym, and sat according to their club activities. All the sports teams wore there team uniforms. The first graders sat in the front – they were the main audience. We went first. We got up there, made our lame little presentation, and played the song we had prepared (or, rather, the students had prepared – they memorized the song, I had not). I thought it went terribly. Then, the tennis team gets up there – they hit a few balls around, etc. Nothing too exciting. Then the badminton team gets up. They hit some birdies around – they all have great form and they really kill the birdies. A good pitch, I thought, except for the fact that whenever a group of girls were volleying, the ones standing on the sidelines waiting their turn all yelled “fight” at random intervals. But they did it in Japanese (“faito!”) and in the most horrible high-pitched screeching voice you’re ever heard (outside of Japan), but at the same time rote – totally without emotion. It was upsetting – like uncommitted banshees offhandedly cheering during a badminton match in hell. I got the chills and covered my ears.

Then, the baseball team gets up. They look cool in their uniforms, they make a brief speech about how much fun baseball is, and then they bust out the big guns. They grab a boy who had expressed interest in baseball and pull him from his seat. They give him a bat. The catcher squats down at one end of the stage (no mask or gear). The pitcher stands on the other side of the stage. They put the interested first grader in the batter’s box, and proceed to throw fast balls at him. He wears no helmet. Swings wildly. Hits nothing (thank god). All I can think about is how dangerous this is – the catcher missing a catch, or the pitcher hitting this little kid in the head, or the kid actually connecting – firing a line drive into the crowd of other children… the lawsuit that would ensue… how fast this would be stopped if we were in America…

Anyway, they do this with several kids. One of them, I wanted to join brass band. His sister just graduated and she was an excellent saxophone player. I was hoping that he’d follow in her footsteps, but the dangerous little demonstration they’d staged made baseball look awfully cool, and the little goofball decided to join the baseball team instead… But I did get three boys to join – one the younger brother of another graduate who I was friendly with – he played guitar, so maybe music runs in the family. I mean, I didn’t force them to join, but I think my presence made brass band look more appealing to boys who would have been turned off to the fact that no boys have ever been in brass band. So, now we have eight new students, which doubles the size of the band. The music teacher thanked me for making brass band look cool, but I think she should have erected a statue. I mean, this could be my lasting legacy in Japan. If there are boys now, in a year, a new crop of students will see that it’s acceptable for boys to be in brass band and want to join. Years from now, in the-middle-of-nowhere Japan, there will be a school that has boys in its brass band club – because of me. At least that’s how I imagine my one contribution to Japan…


Today’s Update: All day, the principal has been hounding me to eat this thing he brought in. Its called nagaimo – literally, “long potato”. It looks like a huge, misshapen three-foot long potato. Last week he talked about it. I said I had never eaten it before. He told me it was delicious. Then, yesterday, he told me he was going to bring some in for me to try. Then, today, he plops two down on the table, wrapped in newspaper. After lunch, he asks me if I want to eat it. (Eat it how? It’s a three-foot long root that looks like it was just pulled out of the ground. You want me to just take a bite?) I tell him I’m full. He tells me that he grew them himself – in his field. Oh, I see where this is going… I tell him that I’d be happy to have some in a little bit. Ok, he says. At three o’clock, we’ll have nagaimo. At three-ten he comes up to me like a giddy schoolgirl and leads me into the tea room (he’s practically skipping). The tea lady had peeled it and cut it up into thin slices. She pours some soy sauce for us to dip it in, and we eat. The slices are hard, but flexible – nothing like a potato. Biting into it, it has the texture of a water chestnut or a bamboo shoot, but once you’ve chewed it a couple times, it reveals its true self. It’s slimy. Horribly slimy. Instead of turning to starch like a potato or any other normal food, it turns to slime. I mask my horror. The principal is staring at me, grinning. “How is it?” I swallow a mouthful of slime. “It’s good.” “He had to dig a meter down in order to harvest it,” the tea lady tells me. I grab another slice, dip it in soy sauce, smiling at the principal as I do it. As I pull it out of the sauce, I notice the slime threads stretching and then snapping – like mucus. He says, “go ahead – eat,” and puts a handful onto my plate. Then, another teacher comes in. “Oh, wonderful – nagaimo,” she says. I tell her this is my first time eating it. She mentions something about my mouth being itchy. The tea lady tells me that many people are allergic to nagaimo, and their mouths get itchy when they eat it, or they get small hives when they touch it. I swallow more slime. “Really?” I say. “If I start to have trouble breathing, give me an EpiPen and take me to the hospital.”

So, now I’m sitting here, ten minutes after the incident, typing this. I’m just waiting for the symptoms. I know they’ll come. I think my mouth might be getting a little itchy…

Class Trips

This week, both the second and third graders are away on class trips. The third graders went to Hiroshima, Kyoto, and Nara for the week, and the second graders went somewhere in Yamanashi for a couple days. Most of the staff left to accompany the students. So, Kae is gone, along with the principal, and pretty much everyone else. I wanted to go too, but there probably would have been several meetings if they had taken my request seriously. Plus, it would have cost me something like a thousand dollars. Before they left, I asked the kids to bring me back omiyage (gifts that you bring back when you go somewhere). Most of them thought it was funny. Yuka flipped out (as she is prone to do) and screamed/whined to Kae asking if I was serious. Anyway, I have no classes this week. It’s more boring than usual…

[Side not about Yuka: Once a week (per my request) Kae and I have the students write a “journal” entry. It’s the only real opportunity they have to practice writing in English (writing original thoughts in English is completely absent from the official English curriculum). Each week we give them a topic to give them some ideas. One week’s topic was “If you could have a robot in your house, what would you do with it” – or something to that effect. Yuka wrote that, if she had a robot, she would have a Gundam. (Gundam’s are giant, heavily-armed, flying, pilot-able robots from the popular anime series Gundam). I saw her writing this, and I asked her what she would do with the Gundam – like, would she fly it to the moon, fight bad guys, blow up a city, etc? She told me that if she had a Gundam, she wouldn’t do any of those things. She wouldn’t want to get it messed up and dirty. She would just want to look at it. “Madness,” I thought. I asked her, what if the world was in peril, and we needed Yuka to step into her Gundam and save the day? She said she would not want to do this. She would rather the attractive (animated) protagonist from the series step into the Gundam and save the world. Is this not crazy? She would prefer to watch an animated character (one she is unabashedly attracted to, by the way) fly around in a Gundam than do so herself. That seems crazy to me. What would you do if you had a giant, heavily-armed, flying, pilot-able robot in your possession? Would you use it? If I had one, I would be in that thing so fast…]

The new principal really likes me. He told me as such when he was drunk at the enkai we had recently. He is also not as good as the old principal was at hiding the fact that he has nothing to do. The old principal would disappear into his office and stay there, with the door closed, all day. The new principal, I think, gets antsy. He can only be in his office for short periods of time. When he gets bored, he starts walking around the staff room blatantly wasting time (no papers in his hand, no trips to the paper shredder or the copy machine, nothing). He used to work at an elementary school, so I don’t think he’s quite used to the middle school routine. While walking around, he invariably makes his way to my desk where I always look busy – either studying Japanese, doing actual work (rare), or writing these blogs. The other day I was grading a stack of “journal” entries – I started and worked through the pile. It doesn’t take all that long if you just sit down and do it. Well, he was so impressed at how hard I work, that he suggested that I take a break. I mean, there were about fifty papers, but they each only take about forty-five seconds to correct… He can’t sit down for forty minutes and do work uninterrupted? I guess not…

No Boys in Brass Band

So, I was studying Japanese today - because I had nothing else to do - no classes or anything... I study out of a book that I get from the JET program. It covers a lot of ground really quickly. So, I'm past the point of "Hi, my name is...". While reading a sample dialogue (in Japanese), my principal comes up to me, sees what I'm reading, and decides that he's going to give me a Japanese lesson. So, he reads the first sentence of the dialogue and has me repeat after him, which I do with no problem (like that helps me with the meaning...). But then he decides to take it back a step - by teaching me the alphabet. I learned the alphabet before I came to Japan. It was the one thing I knew. But, he writes it all down and has me repeat after him - like reading along with the ABC's. We do this several times. Thanks for the Japanese lesson...

Also today, the new 7th graders went around to all the different club activities so they could decide which one they wanted to choose. I was hanging out in the band room, trying to recruit kids. It was really funny. The kids come in, they walk over to one of the 8th or 9th graders, who hands them an instrument and gives them brief instructions on how to play it. Then they kids blow away until they make a sound. My job was to make brass band look cool (its a sad state of affairs when I, of all people, am the authority on what is cool). I really want some boys to join. There hasn't been a male member of the Nakatomi Junior High School Brass Band in over 5 years.

Tomorrow, we'll give a little performance to further persuade the new kids. Before the performance we all stand up and give a little speech about how great band is. The speech ends with the whole band saying something like "lets enjoy brass band together" in unison. We were rehearsing this. After everyone yelled this phrase, they sort of just stood there awkwardly. I jokingly suggested that all give a thumbs up at the end. Unfortunately my suggestion was regarded as a good idea. It looks really nerdy. I don't think any boys are going to be joining brass band this year...

Love Patrol

Today was a half day at school. After lunch the students went home because there was a big regional teachers union meeting happening at our school in the afternoon. Kae and the Vice Principal had told me that I could go home after lunch.

So, I went up to ask the Principal if I could leave, but before I could say anything, he handed me a bright neon jacket and an orange flag and told me to go outside to be a parking attendant for all the teachers who were arriving. Great...

Soon, Kae came out, also in a jacket. Apparently suckered into doing the same thing. She told me that on the back of the jacket, it said "love patrol". I think she was kidding, but she insisted. So, there I was, waving the cars in, in my neon jacket - the love patrol.


This has nothing to do with the love patrol. Yesterday we had opening ceremonies. Typical ceremony - speeches and bowing. I wanted to make particular note of the amount of bowing that went on at this ceremony. Example - the Vice Principal opens the ceremony: he stands up from his chair, takes a couple steps, bows to the board of education people who nod back, he approaches the stage, bows to the stage, climbs the stairs to the podium, stands behind the podium, bows to everyone, everyone bows back, he says the date and that we are starting the ceremony, takes a step back, bows to everyone, everyone bows back, he gets of the stage, turns around to face the stage, bows to the stage, walks to his chair, turns around to face the BOE people, bows to the BOE people, BOE people nod back, Vice Principal sits down. And that's just how it started. Every single person who made a speech (and there were a lot of them) had to go through the exact same procedure. Sometimes everyone had to stand, then bow, and sit down. It was excruciating.

New School Year

The new school year just started. The new teachers are here. They seem pretty nice, but I think I preferred the teachers that just left…

The new principal is cool. He was the principal at one of the elementary schools I teach at, and he would assist me with the fifth grade classes. The new vice-principal seems a little weird. He could be nice though. The jury’s still out on him. The new secretary is really shy – painfully so. The new Japanese teacher seems like a real goofball. He bows really deeply and has a weird smile. He’s a young guy, so I’m not sure why he’s so uptight. When he introduced himself to the students he told a story (a fable, I think) that seemed really rehearsed.

Anyway… I was sitting in the staff room this morning, minding my own business – doing some research on where I should travel during the Golden Week holiday – when I notice that most of the teachers in the staff room are gone. This is not so strange – I frequently find myself alone in the staff room. But, the only teachers there were the new teachers. As soon as I realized this, a buzz came through on the intercom, and everyone got up to leave. They motioned that I should come with them. I followed them to the gym where the rest of the school was waiting to welcome them. Awkward. I should have been in the gym when they arrived, but no one told me about this ceremony. I did a quick social-awkwardness calculation. If I jumped ahead of them, and entered first, it would look weird – as everyone would start clapping when the door opened, and then it would only be me. If I entered last, right after the last new teacher, it would look equally weird. So, I waited a couple seconds after the last teacher went in, and then I quickly went in and took my place among the other, not new, teachers. It’d be nice if someone had given me a heads up…

So now, I am, once again, alone in the staff room. I was helping the music teacher out with preparations for the new students’ arrival (it was great, someone actually asked me for help, and I had a task to do) while the students where cleaning. When I finished, I looked up, and realized that the staff room had emptied. I walked around the school thinking that the students were in homeroom. No one was around. I think everyone’s in the gym, but the vice principal is hosing off the stairs that lead down there, and I really don’t want to a.) get hosed b.) get asked to help hose, or c.) slip and fall down the wet stairs.

Haru ni narimasu

Spring is coming. Flowers are blooming.


Japanese people are very proud of their four seasons. Some think that Japan is the only country that has four distinct seasons, and I sometimes get asked if there are seasons in America. They are very impressed when I tell them that South Jersey has the same climate as Japan.

Many people are enamored with the beauty of the seasons, especially the cherry blossoms in the spring and the falling leaves in autumn. But, I think the main reason that the seasons feature so prominently in Japanese culture is the change in temperature. In America, we completely control our indoor climate – buildings and houses stay virtually the same temperature year-round (68 in winter, 72 in summer). But, the Japanese allow the weather into their houses (and many other buildings). Most houses are not insulated. It gets cold inside in the winter and unbelievably hot in the summer. In the winter, families gather around kotatsus (little tables with heaters on the underside) and in the summer they open all the windows. The seasons really affect their state of mind.

I know that many people in America are also affected by the seasons. But, imagine that it was 40 degrees in your house in the winter. When spring came, yes the days would get longer and the flowers would bloom, but you’d be pretty thrilled that your house was getting warmer and you could come out from under your little heated table.

Side note: I was talking to the vice-principal about the cherry blossoms. Last week he told me that they wouldn’t be in bloom by the time I got to Kyoto. But, he was wrong. They’ve already started blooming. (Not such an expert now, are you?) Anyway, we started talking about some of the other flowering plants – like the hakumokuren tree with the white flowers that is directly outside the window. I commented that it was beautiful, but the flowers have already started to fall off. He compared it to a woman who is very very beautiful, but who has very dirty behavior.

But, he’ll be leaving. The teachers all found out if they’re staying or going. The Vice Principal is going, which is a shame, because I enjoyed talking with him. Other notables: Dai Sensei is leaving. He’s, like, the nicest person ever. And he loves practicing his English with me. A couple weeks ago, I helped him prepare for an English proficiency test by doing a mock-interview. I’m sad to see him go. The staff room won’t be as genki without him. Who will belt out the tenor part of the school song? Also leaving is the secretary – Yoshihiko Sensei – another extremely nice person. She wants to get lunch again sometime. Oh, and Fukasawa Sensei – the really cute teacher who played flute in brass band – is leaving too. She’ll be teaching at elementary school from now on.

After Graduation

So, last week was graduation. The ninth graders are out of here – they all got into their high schools of choice, which is good. The school is pretty quiet without them. Why am I still at school, you ask? Graduation apparently does not mean the end of the year.

For two weeks after the ninth graders graduate, the 7th and 8th graders still have classes. This makes no sense. Then there’s a week off, and then its back to school. Weird. I don’t like it. School years should not be separated by a mere week. There’s something brilliant about a summer vacation. Done in June – return in September. Each year feels distinct – with a clear ending and a true beginning. Can you imagine if, when you graduated from elementary or middle school, you only had a week before you had to go to your new school? Welcome to the Asian school system.

Oh, there’s a summer break. But it’s hardly a vacation. The kids still come into school everyday, but instead of classes they do their club activities. No one ever gets a long break. The longest is a week at a time. The kids are never out of school for very long – even during the day. They get here at 7:30, and, now that the days are getting longer, they stay until six. Six! The system is designed so that the kids have no lives outside of school. They even come in on Saturdays for club activities. In the West, you go to school, do your schoolwork, then go home. The process is streamlined. School just feels like one part of your life – not the whole thing.

I don’t know why anyone would want to be a teacher in this country. The pay is relatively low and the hours are insane. The kids are frequently in school for over ten hours but the teachers stay even longer. Many times it ends up being a twelve-hour day. Do they have so much work? No. But the culture dictates that everyone come in and look busy for the better part of the day. Oh, I forgot to mention that there’s no such thing as tenure, and teachers are moved from school to school approximately every 3 or 4 years. These changes are made during spring break. This year, spring break starts on Wednesday the 26th. The teachers will be told by the Board of Education if they are being moved on the 25th. Then, they will have the week of spring break to move themselves to a new school. What if you get moved across the prefecture, a one-and-a-half hour’s drive away? Sometimes this requires uprooting your family. Other times it requires getting an apartment near your new school and living there six days out of the week (if you’re at school for 12 hours a day, you can’t afford another 3 hours of commuting time). The whole thing is crazy.

Ugh, the teachers are about to have a meeting. Who knows when they’ll be done? I think, last time, the meeting lasted until 7 (its 3:30 now). Why do they have these meetings? Many of the teachers have admitted to me that the meetings are pointless – just a forum for the vice principal to ramble endlessly. I mean, he’s an expert on so many diverse topics (photography, astronomy, carpentry, the dangers of the yakuza, the city of Miami, big-band jazz, coffee, etc.). Why wouldn’t you want to listen to him for hours?

Graduation Practice

I had to get out of there. Graduation practice is so boring. Practice walking in, practice clapping while the graduates walk in, practice sitting down, practice standing up, practice bowing… Everything has to be so meticulously choreographed. “When I take the first step up to the podium, everyone stands up. Now lets practice that a couple times…. Ok, when I sit down, everyone sits down. Now lets practice that a couple times… Ok, when I bow everyone bows… When I put this paper over here, everyone sits down. Now lets practice that a couple times…” I was ready to go crazy.

They even practiced getting their diplomas – step up, bow, principal reads what’s on the diploma, student receives the diploma (left hand, then right hand), bows and exits, all set to music – for all the graduates. Why bother having a graduation ceremony? We just did the whole thing.

Update: The teachers just came into the teachers’ room to have a meeting about how graduation practice is going. I assume the students are still in the gym, practicing. They discussed what needed to be worked on, and then left to go do more practice. How much longer is this thing going on? Isn’t it time for lunch yet?


ps - Wow. Today was the first day we haven’t had milk for lunch. Instead, we had liquid strawberry yoghurt to drink. Chigaimasu – chotto hen desu ne.

Japanese TV Part 3

I recently watched a show where a female pro-wrestler and her goofy, nerdy-looking husband went and ate at various restaurants. They were apparently visiting the ten best restaurants for “nabe”. Nabe is a type of food. It is a bunch of stuff (usually mushrooms, konyaku noodles, cabbage, and chunks of fish) sitting in a boiling, watery broth. It’s pretty tasteless. And it all looks the same. Why spend 5 minutes explaining what’s in this particular nabe? It’s the same stuff that’s in all nabe. At each restaurant, the waiter brings out the pot of bubbling nabe to the odd-couple, and they, without fail, say “segoii!” Like they’ve never seen anything like it before. It looks the same as the last pot of nabe! Why does that impress you? Then, there’s a tense moment where they taste it for the first time. The camera gets up real close as they blow on it and take the first bite of the boiled, unseasoned fish. Everyone holds their breath. And then, “oishii!” Once the tension is gone, the goofy music starts to play as we watch them eat the rest of the nabe in time-lapse (with a timer speeding by at the bottom of the screen – for no reason). It usually takes them about 15 minutes to finish the whole, tasteless bowl.

This show was on for, I kid you not, an hour and a half. How is that an hour and a half show? At most, it should be a ten minute segment.

This is what they put on the TV at the gym…

Hong Kong (Part 3)

Lantau Island – one of Hong Kong’s larger but less inhabited areas. Lantau boasts the world’s largest outdoor Buddha (now accessible by a scenic 25 minute cable car ride) as well as numerous hiking trails. After much deliberation, you will decide to buy a one-way cable-car ticket. How will you get back down? Who knows. In your cable car you will meet a nice Chinese couple (with his parents). They are originally from the mainland, but they went to college in America (he went to Georgetown – smart guy). They met while working in NYC, moved to Beijing (his hometown) for a few years, and have spent the last five in Hong Kong (his parents are just visiting). They will tell you all about Lantau’s many hiking trails, and suggest a daily plan for you. They will tell you that there is a trail from the Buddha to the top of Lantau Peak, but it is difficult. You will ignore their warning. You plan to see the Buddha, hike to the peak, then take a bus to a harbor town, and then catch a ferry back to Hong Kong.

After spending slightly too much time at the Buddha (and lunch) you decide in the late afternoon to quickly hike to the peak. At the outset of your journey, you will meet many people on their way down. You will ask each of them how much longer it will take to get to the top. Basic logic dictates that the closer you get to the top, the less time it will take to get there. Basic logic does not exist on the path to Lantau Peak. The first person you meet will tell you “45 minutes – max”. The next person will tell you that you are an hour and a half away. Further up the mountain, a third group inform you that you still have an hour forty-five to go. The path up the mountain consists of a series of steps made of rock that cut, practically, a vertical course up the side of the mountain. Walking up will be unpleasant. “But it will all be worth it when you get to the top and see the amazing view,” you will tell yourself. When you finally get to the top, after almost two hours, there will be no amazing view. Oh, there is potential for an amazing view – but, no amazing view. Freakin China… During the winter months, smog blows from the factories on the mainland and settles over Hong Kong. It would be gorgeous here… The Chinese will destroy their country. Hopefully they won’t take Hong Kong with it. Hiking back down takes a while, and, like going up, is painful (but in a different way). The sun is setting by the time you get back to the Buddha.






On the final day of your trip, you will take a bus through the mountains to the south side of Hong Kong Island. There, there are beaches and markets. It will be a beautiful day.





In the afternoon, your friend will have to leave. His flight will fly out this evening. You will not be leaving until the following morning. You will say goodbye to him – thank him for an amazing trip. Then, you will go back to the harbor to finally see the light-show. It will be a total let-down. But you will meet some nice Korean guys and have a conversation about cameras with them.



The next morning, at Hong Kong airport, you will bump into some fellow Yamanashi JETs. You knew they would be in China when you were, but didn’t know that they would be leaving Hong Kong (of all places) on the same flight. You will have traveling companions on the trip back to Japan.

Hong Kong (Part 2)

You will spend the first day wandering around the city. It is awesome – warm and bustling. You will make your way to the mid-levels – an international neighborhood that gradually slopes into the mountains. You will ride the winding series of escalators that take you to the top, but you will make a brief stop to get pizza. After months of eating gross to mediocre (possibly mayonnaise filled) pizza in Japan, this Hong Kong pizza will be delicious. Mmm, authentic pizza. It will severely burn the roof of your mouth (a necessary sacrifice to save your tongue), but you won’t care. After checking the price of real-estate in this neighborhood (yikes!) you will reboard the escalators and take them to the top. Walking back down will take you through some odd paths, and you will eventually reach a zoo randomly situated in a park/forest south of the city. The jaguar will not be doing anything, but the gibbons will be interesting. They sure do know how to have a good time. In one of the parks, you will meet a young Asian-American mother with a midwestern accent. When you ask her, she will tell you that Obama won the Iowa caucus. Hazzah! A good day indeed.


That night, you will take the world famous tram up to Victoria Peak – a high point on Hong Kong island with a view of the entire city. At the top is a 5-story shopping center complete with an EA store and wax museum. You will forgo the wax museum to play several rounds of NBA Street: Homecourt at the EA store. If your parents’ could see you and your friend playing videogames at a tourist attraction at the top of Hong Kong, they would laugh – or yell. After this realization, you only played for another two minutes. At the top of the viewing station, you will be treated to an amazing view of the city. You will also meet some American travelers who claim that you can view the nightly light-show from the peak. This is untrue. From your vantage point, you can tell that a light show exists – for other people, who are standing in designated light-show-viewing areas. The peak is not one of these areas. You will not be able to enjoy the light show.


After the unviewable light-show, you will decide not to take the tram back down the mountain, but rather, take the hour walk down the dimly lit trails that lead into the city. As you are on your way to do this, you encounter a young Hong Kongian (Hong Konger? Hong Kongese?) couple. When you ask them the location of the footpath, they will talk you out of walking down the mountain. They will not say, “It is a stupid idea,” but this is what they will be thinking. Instead, they will convince you to take the tram back down with them.

Hong Kong (Part 1)

Hong Kong will be great. It will be warm and sunny and beautiful. You will go through customs to get there. It is practically a different country.

The first thing you will notice about Hong Kong is the warm weather. It will be nice. The second thing you will notice is that the gritty, narrow streets with glowing, hanging advertisements occupying all the space above street level, bustling with people at all hours of the night – the city looks like it does in the movies. You expect a John Woo style shootout to ensue at any moment. This place is cool.

The third thing you will notice is that everyone is short. Cantonese people are short. This will be especially noticeable having just come from Beijing, where everyone is tall. The fourth thing you will notice is that all these short Cantonese people speak English. Yay!

The fifth thing you will notice is that the people are much more well-dressed and put together than people on the mainland – no pajamas here. Also, there’s no spitting. Why is there no spitting? The people of Hong Kong keep their mucus to themselves? Is it a secret? No, it’s civilization. Welcome to the first world!

That night you will make your way down to the harbor for a much talked-about, nightly light-show. However, you will arrive twenty minutes late and will be unable to see it. Instead, you will wander around Kowloon. Kowloon is more active at night than it is during the day. You will visit the area’s many open-air night markets. The markets will occupy entire streets for blocks at a time. They will be enormous. The markets and the surrounding restaurants and shops will be open well into the night. You will browse clothing stores after midnight. When you go back to your hotel at 1 AM, the crowd will show no signs of waning.