It's Friday, September 1, 1990. I still haven't taught a lick of English yet - but I have been told I am expected to teach the OBOE (Ohtawara Board of Education) members some English.
Hell, no. I haven't even taught the kids yet, and I get to do that with a Japanese Teacher of English--but to teach at the OBOE, oy gevalt! Aside from Hanazaki-san, my next best student is Kanemaru-san... and he's the fastest man in the Far East with a dictionary.
However, because I am anxious to make a favourable impression of Canadians on the Japanese, I agree. There is much celebrating. OBO(Y)E.
At lunch, my class of seven anxious OBOE women and two men (my bosses) stare at me with rapt attention. I have no idea how to teach or even what to teach. I ask Hanazaki-san if there is anything they would like to learn. The men say: bad-o words. The women giggle. I wink at the men and say, dame ("da-may" = no way). I give them the basic conversational: "Hello. My name is. - " and "What is your name?" stuff. They are surprisingly good and after 60 minutes are able to say: "Herro. Mayonaise is add your name-o hee-ya. Whato izu yo-a name-o?"
Better than any Japanese I know.
After class Hanazaki-san tells me that they are having an enkai (party) in my honour tonight, and ask if I can attend. I didn't have the guts to create a joke answer.
After work, Kanemaru-san drives me to my apartment throwing my bike in the back of his van. It's NOT a white van, and that confuses me.
I get dressed and we drive over to the Ohtawara Banquet Hall a mere two minutes away from the OBOE.
If you've seen one banquet hall, you've seen them all... they all sort of have this crappy Italian look to them. Fake. I'm not saying Italian architecture is fake or crappy... I'm just saying that the hall is crappy. I have photos. Just wait. The click-thru is somewhere below. The wallpaper is gold. The carpeting is red. And it's all quite jarring to my foreign eyes.
Along the far wall is a lectern sitting atop a two-inch high stage that I discover after tripping over it. On the wall behind the stage is a Canadian flag on the left, a Japanese flag on the right, and a poster with Japanese kanji (one of three alphabets) that I hope welcomes me--who knows, though. The Japanese, as I have been quick to discover, have a delicious sense of humour.
Thankfully, I am not required to sing my national anthem to get this party started. Instead, the OBOE's Hanazaki-san (I only recently learned he used to be a science teacher) gave a short introductory speech, welcomed me to the stage and asked me to say a few words.
I have to say that in what would eventually become three years in Japan, this was one of the few times I was NOT surprised to learn I had to do something. Hmmm, it must have got lost in the translation.
I did get a bit of a surprise, however. As soon as I began giving my prepared speech in English, Shibata-sensei translated for me. Remember, pretty much everybody there was an English teacher and could speak super English, right? Hunh. I'm sure it was translated for my few fellow OBOE staff who came out to celebrate my inaugural meeting with the city's middle school English teachers. Excluding those that I met a couple of weeks earlier in a drunken stupor during Obon. Of course, many of the people I met were also in a drunken stupor, so it's likely no one remembers our first meeting.
Turns out I was correct. I was drunk and couldn't remember anything. My Japanese counter-parts (IE teachers... at this time, I still considered them my equals---ah, ignorant foreigner)--they knew who I was.
The speech was fine. I apparently said all the right things, and did not have to apologize to anybody. Bottles of wonderful Kirin Lager beer were opened up, toasts were made (in Japan, rather than 'cheers' or 'salute' the Japanese say 'kanpai' which is pronounced: kahn-pie), and food was served.
I had a great time meeting the English teachers--and I must say it was a fantastic idea of the OBOE to even think about doing something like that. Sure, any excuse for an enkai, but still, the OBOE really looked after me.
By 10PM, it was over. I didn't realize it at the time, but all of the good little English teachers had to head home and get some sleep because they had school the next day (Saturday). I had no idea. I had the day off because that is what Westerners do.
Anyhow some of the bad little English teachers and various members of the OBOE said we should hit the local bars.
Someone drove us to the drinking area of Ohtawara, which as it turns out is a three-minute walk or 11-minute stagger from my apartment. I recall Kanemaru-san buying me a bowl of hot ramen noodles and beers before we staggered off to a karaoke bar.
Now, those of you who have heard me speak know I have a decent, powerful voice and a face made for radio--but that doesn't translate well for karaoke...which you might not know means, drunks trying to sing crappy songs.
I probably had enough to drink seven beers prior (who knows how much I had--- they kept topping up my glass as I drank it down!), and I was sticking around because: it's my party and I'll die if I want to; and I wanted to fit in.In fact... fitting in is what this blog is all about. Successes and failures.
Kanemaru-san, Hanazaki-san and a few of the English teachers (Tomura-sensei had smartly packed it when the original party broke up, but Shibata-sensei and Inoue-sensei of Dai-chu) were definitely there. The place only had three karaoke songs in English: Country Roads; Love Me Tender, and; My Way.
I'm not partial to country or western music or Sinatra but I do love Elvis. Unfortunately the English teachers decided to show off and got up on stage to butcher Elvis whereby if he wasn't dead, he would have killed himself.
It's not their fault... but the voices that stood out were the ones who were either the most drunk or the ones who had a heavier Japanese accent when speaking English. Love Me Tender when sung that night became one of my favourite memories--such as they are--of Japan. The inability of many Japanese to say the letter "L" and transform it into an "R" and the letter "V" into a "B" turned the song into Rub Me Tender.
I was on the floor and rolling under the table either very drunk or howling with laughter. When they finished I bought them all a drink.
It was then my turn. I have always liked The Sex Pistols. I had always imagined myself as kind of a suburban punk, which is why I dressed normal and sang My Way like THIS. Including all of the voice cracking, a few leg kicks and lip snarls.
Let's just say that when I finished and walked back to my stool, the applause was genuinely mild as almost everyone had passed out from alcohol poisoning.
For some reason Kanemaru-san's wife came into the karaoke bar (she was not at the party), dragged her husband and myself into a van and drove me home. As I poured myself out, she said her first English words to me "Sayanora" (which sounds a lot like Japanese for 'good bye') and drove away as the sun rose. It was 4AM.
Oh yeah... click HERE to see photos at the banquet hall of my welcome party.
Somewhere Sinatra is wishing I had done it his way,
Andrew Vicious Joseph.
Title is by The Beatles.
Hell, no. I haven't even taught the kids yet, and I get to do that with a Japanese Teacher of English--but to teach at the OBOE, oy gevalt! Aside from Hanazaki-san, my next best student is Kanemaru-san... and he's the fastest man in the Far East with a dictionary.
However, because I am anxious to make a favourable impression of Canadians on the Japanese, I agree. There is much celebrating. OBO(Y)E.
At lunch, my class of seven anxious OBOE women and two men (my bosses) stare at me with rapt attention. I have no idea how to teach or even what to teach. I ask Hanazaki-san if there is anything they would like to learn. The men say: bad-o words. The women giggle. I wink at the men and say, dame ("da-may" = no way). I give them the basic conversational: "Hello. My name is. - " and "What is your name?" stuff. They are surprisingly good and after 60 minutes are able to say: "Herro. Mayonaise is add your name-o hee-ya. Whato izu yo-a name-o?"
Better than any Japanese I know.
After class Hanazaki-san tells me that they are having an enkai (party) in my honour tonight, and ask if I can attend. I didn't have the guts to create a joke answer.
After work, Kanemaru-san drives me to my apartment throwing my bike in the back of his van. It's NOT a white van, and that confuses me.
I get dressed and we drive over to the Ohtawara Banquet Hall a mere two minutes away from the OBOE.
If you've seen one banquet hall, you've seen them all... they all sort of have this crappy Italian look to them. Fake. I'm not saying Italian architecture is fake or crappy... I'm just saying that the hall is crappy. I have photos. Just wait. The click-thru is somewhere below. The wallpaper is gold. The carpeting is red. And it's all quite jarring to my foreign eyes.
Along the far wall is a lectern sitting atop a two-inch high stage that I discover after tripping over it. On the wall behind the stage is a Canadian flag on the left, a Japanese flag on the right, and a poster with Japanese kanji (one of three alphabets) that I hope welcomes me--who knows, though. The Japanese, as I have been quick to discover, have a delicious sense of humour.
Thankfully, I am not required to sing my national anthem to get this party started. Instead, the OBOE's Hanazaki-san (I only recently learned he used to be a science teacher) gave a short introductory speech, welcomed me to the stage and asked me to say a few words.
I have to say that in what would eventually become three years in Japan, this was one of the few times I was NOT surprised to learn I had to do something. Hmmm, it must have got lost in the translation.
I did get a bit of a surprise, however. As soon as I began giving my prepared speech in English, Shibata-sensei translated for me. Remember, pretty much everybody there was an English teacher and could speak super English, right? Hunh. I'm sure it was translated for my few fellow OBOE staff who came out to celebrate my inaugural meeting with the city's middle school English teachers. Excluding those that I met a couple of weeks earlier in a drunken stupor during Obon. Of course, many of the people I met were also in a drunken stupor, so it's likely no one remembers our first meeting.
Turns out I was correct. I was drunk and couldn't remember anything. My Japanese counter-parts (IE teachers... at this time, I still considered them my equals---ah, ignorant foreigner)--they knew who I was.
The speech was fine. I apparently said all the right things, and did not have to apologize to anybody. Bottles of wonderful Kirin Lager beer were opened up, toasts were made (in Japan, rather than 'cheers' or 'salute' the Japanese say 'kanpai' which is pronounced: kahn-pie), and food was served.
I had a great time meeting the English teachers--and I must say it was a fantastic idea of the OBOE to even think about doing something like that. Sure, any excuse for an enkai, but still, the OBOE really looked after me.
By 10PM, it was over. I didn't realize it at the time, but all of the good little English teachers had to head home and get some sleep because they had school the next day (Saturday). I had no idea. I had the day off because that is what Westerners do.
Anyhow some of the bad little English teachers and various members of the OBOE said we should hit the local bars.
Someone drove us to the drinking area of Ohtawara, which as it turns out is a three-minute walk or 11-minute stagger from my apartment. I recall Kanemaru-san buying me a bowl of hot ramen noodles and beers before we staggered off to a karaoke bar.
Now, those of you who have heard me speak know I have a decent, powerful voice and a face made for radio--but that doesn't translate well for karaoke...which you might not know means, drunks trying to sing crappy songs.
I probably had enough to drink seven beers prior (who knows how much I had--- they kept topping up my glass as I drank it down!), and I was sticking around because: it's my party and I'll die if I want to; and I wanted to fit in.In fact... fitting in is what this blog is all about. Successes and failures.
Kanemaru-san, Hanazaki-san and a few of the English teachers (Tomura-sensei had smartly packed it when the original party broke up, but Shibata-sensei and Inoue-sensei of Dai-chu) were definitely there. The place only had three karaoke songs in English: Country Roads; Love Me Tender, and; My Way.
I'm not partial to country or western music or Sinatra but I do love Elvis. Unfortunately the English teachers decided to show off and got up on stage to butcher Elvis whereby if he wasn't dead, he would have killed himself.
It's not their fault... but the voices that stood out were the ones who were either the most drunk or the ones who had a heavier Japanese accent when speaking English. Love Me Tender when sung that night became one of my favourite memories--such as they are--of Japan. The inability of many Japanese to say the letter "L" and transform it into an "R" and the letter "V" into a "B" turned the song into Rub Me Tender.
I was on the floor and rolling under the table either very drunk or howling with laughter. When they finished I bought them all a drink.
It was then my turn. I have always liked The Sex Pistols. I had always imagined myself as kind of a suburban punk, which is why I dressed normal and sang My Way like THIS. Including all of the voice cracking, a few leg kicks and lip snarls.
Let's just say that when I finished and walked back to my stool, the applause was genuinely mild as almost everyone had passed out from alcohol poisoning.
For some reason Kanemaru-san's wife came into the karaoke bar (she was not at the party), dragged her husband and myself into a van and drove me home. As I poured myself out, she said her first English words to me "Sayanora" (which sounds a lot like Japanese for 'good bye') and drove away as the sun rose. It was 4AM.
Oh yeah... click HERE to see photos at the banquet hall of my welcome party.
Somewhere Sinatra is wishing I had done it his way,
Andrew Vicious Joseph.
Title is by The Beatles.
