Here Comes The Rain Again

There's a typhoon blowing through Japan - or more importantly, through my city of Ohtawara-shi in Tochigi-ken (Tochigi Prefecture), Japan - today, Thursday, September 19, 1991.

I'm from Toronto, Canada. We don't get typhoons, tsunami or earthquakes or volcanic eruptions. We get snow - not a lot of it, mind you. People are of the misconception that Canada is a vast wasteland of ice and snow, that we use sled dogs to get to work and then back to our igloo homes... or that we just got electricity 10 years ago. Some people actually believe that crap.

Some people in Canada do live like that - but that's only during the winter a way up north near the Arctic Circle. Toronto is actually more southernly than many parts of the U.S. - and I'm not just talking about Alaska!

Snow... we get some snow - and yes, it's cold... but we're actually just above a so-called snow-belt that dumps snow on Buffalo in the US. Yes, we maybe get 8-inches of snow in a storm... and maybe only have three or fours storms a year... but that's it. We still walk to work or school - we just dress warmly. Sometimes I even wear gloves - but never a hat! That would mess up my hair.

And as far as snow and Ohtawara... This past winter  1990-92, we got a lot of snow... the difference is it melts in two days, unlike Toronto where it tends to stay until March. And cold? You bet. Inside it feels colder as there does not seem to be a lot of insulation between the walls in Japanese buildings. I asked about that once, and was told that because of the humidity in the Spring, Summer and Fall, Japanese building don't have insulation and are not as air-tight so as to allow the building to breath. If you are cold, use a kotasu, electric blanket and/or a gas heater - just remember to open a window to vent the gas. So... I'm supposed to open a window to vent the gas... but doesn't the open window let more cold in? Yup. Welcome to Japan.

I complained about how cold I was, and my office - the Ohtawara Board of Education (OBOE) purchased a combination heater/air-conditioner that was very powerful... and I never sweat or froze again - unless I left the confines of my apartment. True.

This is just to tell you that I had never seen natural disasters or weather like what Japan has at any time before in my life.

Oh - and the number of times Godzilla has gone stomping through Ohtawara-shi looking for Mothra!? It's ridiculous... I mean, my first experience with a Godzilla-like creature was a single cockroach in my apartment the day I moved in 13+ months ago. Aside from some spiders on steroids, I've not encountered any other bug in my place.

Stereotypes. Screw'em.

My impression of the Japan prior to arriving was that here were geisha everywhere. I haven't seen one yet! And that all of the men were dressed in navy blue pinstripe suits, wore glasses, had an attache case, straight black hair and had no sense of humour.

Okay... that might have been a poor example of showing how stupid stereotypes are. There are more than enough men in Japan who fit that description. But sense of humour? These guys are stupid funny - and I mean that they are hilarious!

Anyhow... while Tokyo does indeed get its fair share of earthquakes every day (some of which you might even notice), tsunami and volcanic eruptions that affect the country are exceedingly rare. Why am I mentioninig this? It's because there's a typhoon blowing in Ohtawara right now! It's actually typhoon season!

Really? In Canada we have duck season and construction season - but typhoon season? That's insane! Fortunately, there are only about 5-6 typhoons in the late summer, early fall.

I'm just trying to tell you that okay, for maybe 15 days a year in Ohtawara, it rains - hard. In Toronto, it's the same - but it's snowing. It's the same, but different. Welcome to life as a gaijin (foreigner) in Japan.

I'm up at 6:45AM, and despite being in a good mood these past two days, I awake feeling very tired.
 
It's pouring rain.

Fortunately I have an umbrella, which I take with me as I ride my bicycle to Ohtawara Chu Gakko (Ohtawara Junior High School) where I work (this week) as an assistant English teacher on the JET (Japan Exchange & Teaching) Programme.

Unfortunately for me, the umbrella last a whole five minutes before the typhoon's winds shred the fabric covering me.

I am now soaked. My navy blue suit weighs a ton thanks to all of the water it has soaked up, and I'm also riding head-first into the storm.

What's worse, though, is that this is only the beginning of the storm.

(And... just for you, oh reader... here in 2011, I found out that what I was just in - didn't even qualify as a typhoon! In fact... it wasn't even directly over Ohtawara!

Here's some data on Tropical Storm Luke (the actual storm - I found this info in 2011) :
Tropical Storm Luke formed from a disturbance that moved through the Northern Marianas and formed a depression on the 14th of September just to the west of the islands. The depression began to slowly intensify as it moved towards the west-northwest and Tropical Storm Luke was named on the 15th of September. Luke reached peak intensity of 60 mph (97 km/h) prior to recurving to the northeast and weakening due to increased shear. Tropical Storm Luke then paralleled the southeastern Japan coastline, dropping heavy rains. The resulting flooding and landslides killed 8 people and left 10 others missing prior to Luke turning extratropical east of central Honshū Island.

So... despite it not being a typhoon, people died.

Teachers at the school did dig deep and find some clothes for me to wear - it's all sportswear - but it's dry and very warming, both physically and emotionally. They even dug out some slippers for me to wear that actually fit me (almost).

 I actually could ring water from my suit - apparently you shouldn't do that, however, as it tends to make the suits all wrinkly. Some of the female teachers took my suit and hung it up to dry, and watched as a small river fell from it nearly drowning the home economics teacher in the process.

I have six very hot cups of o-cha (Japanese green tea) and then have to pee for four minutes straight. The time was straight... my urine strain was a little wobbly.

Maybe the stars are starting to align up for me? I'm tired and luckily only have two classes to teach at school. I do very little, but that's okay. It doesn't matter because everyone from teachers to students is polite and warm. Perhaps it's because everyone knows that the last tie I was here I was stalked by a university student on a week-long internship program to learn how to teach.

You can read about that HERE, but just know that it was some of the best sex I had ever had! The problem was when she started stalking me, dropping out of school to follow me around, and then dropping by when any guests I had over left so we could screw each other's brains out until the morning, when I would go to work for days and days with out sleep. It was a very tiring  - but wholly satisfying experience.

The head of the English department - Inoue-sensei comes up to me at 4:15PM and asks me to do a recording of an English test for him since I'll be at another school next week.

He' such a nice man! I miss him so much! Besides being a great friend, he also told me so much about life in Japan - a lot of which I have already shared with you, and many more that I will share in the future!

Inoue-sensei gives me a couple of telephone cards for my collection (see HERE for what I picked up), and then asks if I'll be free one Sunday in October to accompany him on a trip to Nasushiobara! I have no idea why, but sure!

It stops raining - or typhooning - or I guess tropical storming as I am about to go home, so at least I'm not going to get soaked again.

At home, Matthew my friend and local legend calls - we ride out for a ramen (noodle) dinner. We then rent a couple of movies and watch one back at my place.

When Catherine Willens calls again at 10PM, I kick Matthew out so I can talk uninhibited until midnight. When we are done exchanging more life stories, she tells me she only actually called to invite me to a party. I can't recall when or where, but it seems she wants me to be her date.

I  guess she doesn't know that while I no longer have a girlfriend in Ashley, am trying to sleep with Karen, and trying date Shoko, I am still a friend-with-benefits with my ex. There's probably a few other women I'm chasing or am sleeping with this week that I haven't mentioned, but since I either can't remember their name or I haven't met them yet, it doesn't matter.    

Before heading to bed, I stay up and do more of my puzzle on the Tower of Babel. The easy part of the puzzle is now finished. Now all I have to do is put together 500 pieces of white fluffy clouds.

Somewhere I am wrinkled,
Andrew Joseph
Today's blog is sung to you by The Eurythmics: Here Comes The Rain Again: POURING

Update on Fukushima-ken

Well... it's been over three months since the March 11, 2011 9.0 Magnitude earthquake spawned a huge tsunami that helped create a nuclear crisis in Japan at the Dai-ichi (Big One) nuclear facility in Fukushima-ken.

What's going on? This information below is current as of June 15, 2011:

• Japanese officials recently doubled their previous estimate as to how much radiation had escaped from the Dai-ichi nuclear plant. The Nuclear and Industrial Safety Agency says the radiation released from Dai-ichi has been estimated atabout 770,000 terabecquerels during the week after March 11, 2011. Previous estimates were at 370,000 terabecquerels;
• The Agency believes nuclear reactors No. 1 and No.2 meltedfaster than the Tokyo Electric Power Company (TEPCO is the owner andoperator of the nuclear facility) than previously stated.
• Japanese government says an extension of the exclusion zone around the plant will likely be enlarged;
• Nearly 90,000 residents have been forced to evacuate in the exclusion zone and remain displaced;
• Concerns about workers at the plant and their work conditions haverisen in recent weeks, with multiple incidents of exhaustion, heatexhaustion and dehydration; 
• A band of retirees, many over 70-years-old, have volunteered to take over work duties at the plant;
• Japanese government has banned the shipment and sale of green tea (o-cha) growing in prefectures near the nuclear plant after testing on tea leaf samples showed a high dosage of cesium radiation released from the plant,and higher than the legally allowed level. O-cha from Fukushima-ken (Fukushima Prefectuire), Ibaraki-ken (Ibaraki Prefecture), Chiba-ken (Chiba Prefecture), Kanagawa-ken (Kanagawa Prefecture) and Tochigi-ken (Tochigi Prefecture) are affected. 
• The Japanese Environment Ministry will allow theincineration of rubble and possible burying of rubble underground thatmay be highly radioactive in an effort to speed up theremoval and disposal of debris associated with the disaster.Some 23 milliontons of debris needs to be removed from coastal areas decimated by the disasters to allow rebuilding. 

Files compiled by Andrew Joseph

Windy

It's 2:49AM, Wednesday June 19, 1991. The sexy Japanese university student named Junko lies naked beside me in bed.
We met on Monday, as she and a bunch of other university studentsvisited Ohtawara Chu Gakko (Ohtawara Junior High School - aka Dai Chu)to see what it's like to be a real teacher. 
Despite the awesomeness of the past two nights with this tigress--shekeeps coming back for more--I have no idea what her last name is - andI'm well beyond asking her - especially if I want more.
I think I do.
I was actually asleep and woke up from a dream. A dream I had about Ashley.... which made me horny again.
Now looks-wise, while Ashley was cute, but Junko looked like she could be a lingeriefashion model - but I hardly ever saw her in lingerie. Unfortunately, I knew my relationship (physical) with Junko was going tolast as long as she was in town... she had to be back at her universityby next Monday. Wherever the heck that was.
I was 26-years-old to her 21 - and while writing about having sex with a21-year-old now in 2011 when I'm 46 seems strange, I never even gave it a secondthought back in 1991. I just thanked my lucky stars I didn't have agirlfriend this week.
So... why was I dreaming about Ashley? Looking at what popped up, I'mpretty sure I knew what I wanted from her. Oh well. No sleep for Junko.
No need to wake-up, we roll out of bed at 6:15AM, have separate showers, look at each other and then get dirty again.
I kick her out at 7:30AM - she shouldn't be seen leaving my place - notthat I'm embarrassed - actually, quite the contrary... I just don'twant any students at Dai Chu to see her leave my place... then she'llget talked about, and I don't want her to feel shamed by anyone.Although... I'm pretty sure she doesn't care, as she leaves myapartment wearing one of my dress shirts.
It's so obviously my shirt. Not only is it a man's shirt, It's purple -and no Japanese man would ever wear anything like what I wear.
Shunning Junko's offer of a drive to school (again, people talk in thistown - already my boss Hanazaki-san (Mr. Hanazaki) seems to know I'veslept with this hot tamale. We're not that loud, are we? Besides... we'd probably never even make it to Dai Chu.
At school - considering I've just had sex with a woman who should be afashion model - everything is great! The students are nice to me. Themale teachers are looking at me with awe, while some of the womenteacher's are giving me the squint eye--like they know who I'm sleepingwith and are wondering if I'm the predator or if Junko is. I think theyknow it's Junko, as one of the teachers comments (in English) "NiceShirt-o" to Junko. She says it loudly, glances at me and goes off tomake o-cha (green tea) for all of the male teachers.
I don't get any from her, but that's only because Junko has already brought me a cup, gently blowing on it to cool it down.
I'm pretty sure that blowing on the gaijin's (foreigner's) tea is a Japanese social faux pas - I don't care because Junko doesn't care.
What the hell is her last name?
Man - if only Ashley could see me with her!
During my classes, I talk with the idiot students who weren't nice tome a few days ago - but even their attitude toward me is softened toone of awe and respect as they seem to know I'm boinking the hotuniversity student-teacher, Junko.
At 4PM, I head to my back doctor for some quick adjustments - Junko andthe rest of the teachers have a meeting beginning at that time.
I stop off and get a bottle of Coca-Cola and head back to my place wondering what I'm going to eat for dinner.
As I open the door, step in and close it, a gentle rapping ensues. It's Junko.
Well, I guess I know what's for dinner.
She brought food, too.
When we're done, we eat dinner and tell her that it looks like tonightmight be our last night together. I'm busy tomorrow night, and onFriday I made plans to go to Disneyland with my ex-girlfriend Ashleyand a few other Tochigi-ken JET (Japan Exchange & Teaching)Programme people.
Despite the prospect of not being with Junko this weekend, I'm looking forward to spending it with Ashley.
I am so screwed up in the head.
I tell her what I am doing this weekend and with whom. Even thoughshe's not from Ohtawara, she knows who Ashley is. Junko begs me to lether come with me to Disneyland.
World's are colliding.
In 2011, I look back at this moment and realize this woman would havedone anything for me. Anything... she would have come with me toToronto, we could have started a family and she could have made moneyas a model... Not only is Junko super sexy, sexual and smart - shespeaks English very well. And, she doesn't seem crazy.
I reaffirm the 'no' answer, as I'm afraid she is either falling for me too quickly, or she's a lot more than just crazy in bed.
She is about to leave my place at 9PM so that I can do some laundry and iron some shirts. Junkogave me back my shirt and wore the one she had on from yesterday whichshe had hidden under my bedroom pillows. Oh and when she puts onyesterday's clothing, I notice she didn't wear any form of underwear atschool today... She'll never be a lingerie model with an attitude like this!
I think I'm going to run out of condoms...
She's still at my place when the doorbell rings at 10:30PM and Matthew beginspounding on the door. Junko says she'll answer it for me, but I pushher naked body back into my room and tell her to be quiet.
Matthew just popped over to say hi - use my washroom - and then stagger home after an enkai (party).
I have no idea why I was hiding Junko - perhaps to keep her to myself.
While Junko and I watch a television show about porno stars in thecountry - and why is this only on when Junko is around? And man is there alot of nudity in this program - I have to make a few phone calls.
I don't know about you, but I find talking to other women on the phonedifficult when I'm straddled by a 21-year-old sex goddess. Still, Italk to Melissa and Mari Ann and discuss plans for Canada Day in Tokyo asMari Ann invites me to a celebration at the Canadian embassy -I have no idea how she got that invite. We need to find out if Matthewcan be my guest, and if Melissa can be Mari Ann's, as she and I are thetwo Canadians.
Meanwhile, Junko is being Junko on top of me. She's feeding me food while she rocks my world.
I call Ashley - while Junko is entertaining me - and tell her about the final plans for our trip toDisneyland on Saturday (we're spending the evening at Susan St. Cyr'splace on Friday).
Why am I calling and thinking about Ashley et al when I have a Junko food craving?
Can I have my cake and eat it too?

Somewhere Junko doesn't need sleep when she's with
Andrew Joseph

Today's blog title is by The Association... Junko reminds me of WINDY - breezy and easy.

PS: Wasn't that wicked of me to call Ashley while I was under Junko? It was. Being evil can be fun!

Cover Of The Rolling Stone

This story is nothing to sneeze at.

In March of 1991, I had to spend the first four days of my week teaching at Wakakusa Chu Gakko (Wakausa Junior High School) in the small city of Ohtawara-shi, Tochigi-ken in Japan.

I was feeling fine. The weather was warn and sunny. Wakakusa is a very nice school with friendly smart students and equally cool teachers. Tomura-sensei (Mr. Tomura, teacher) was the head English teacher (eigo-no sensei) there, and always came to my apartment at Zuiko Haitsu to pick me up and drive me to school.

Arriving at the school, I went in to the teacher's lounge on the second floor of this modern, and clean institution and made my greetings to the principal and vice-principal, and all of the other teachers there. Almost before I could sit down at my desk, one of the female teachers would always have a piping hot cup of o-cha (green tea) to hand to me, while bowing graciously.

It's always a great time. The weather outside is so nice that all of the windows on the far side of the lounge are wide open letting in the fresh air. It's a nice change of pace considering how cold it had been just a few weeks previous.

Sitting at my desk and examining my teaching schedule, my nose began to get runny. Then my body began to get achy. I felt tired. I had chills. I had a fever.

I was sick, but had never been hit so hard or so hard in my life.

Tomura-sensei was alarmed and quickly drove me back home. I had only been in school for five minutes.

I got into my apartment  - with help from Tomura-sensei - said good-bye and that I'm sure I would be fine tomorrow... and here's the funny thing... within minutes after he left, I was fine.

World's greatest actor? Perhaps. But I wasn't acting. I was genuinely feeling ill. And now I was genuinely feeling better.

Not wanting to be fooled, I took some ibuprofen (Aspirin), drank a bottle of orange juice and went to sleep for a few hours.

I awoke having to pee, but otherwise still feeling great. No runny nose or body ache - nothing. I watched some television, did some laundry and vacuumed the apartment.

The next morning, I'm still feeling fine - but again upon arriving at the teacher's lounge - 2nd floor - at Wakakusa, I began to feel ill again.

Someone - and I'm unsure who - thought it might be an allergy. They asked me if I had any allergies. I told them I had none that I knew off - but that was in Canada. Through frantic translations with Tomura-sensei, it was indeed determined that I was allergic to something at Wakakusa.

That's when it was pointed out that the Japanese Black Spruce tree was in full bloom at this very moment - and with the windows wide open on the second floor, and the trees being at that height and taller - I was getting a real good dose of pollen. Apparently I wasn't the only one suffering, but I was suffering the best, or worst, depending on your own view of these things.

While Monday was indeed the heaviest day of pollen at Wakakusa, it was still heavy enough for me to go home again on Tuesday. As a precaution, Wakakusa had a gaijin-free week until the tree stopped dropping pollen. In fact, the OBOE (Ohtawara Board of Education) over the next three years refused to allow me to teach at Wakakusa during heavy pollen times. Other schools were fine, because none of the others had Japanese Black Spruce all over the yard.

Somewhere my nose is running and my feet smell,

Andrew Joseph
Today's blog was written and performed by: Dr. Hook and the Medicine Show - TAKEALLKINDOFPILLS


PS: Back in Canada, I later found out I was allergic to cats, goldenrod, and molds. I wasn't tested for Japanese Black Spruce, but it's safe to say I can add that to the list.

Good Day Sunshine

This story takes place during my third year of living in Japan.

You know how familiarity often breeds contempt? Well, I've been here in Japan for close to three years now. Three years of trying to amuse myself and others about my more or less true tales of woe and fun here in Japan. Through it all, I've managed to learn how to cook Japanese noodles--it's easy. You just get someone to boil you some water and add it to the contents of a styrofoam cup!
I've learned that there are Japanese woman with large breasts who will date me (thank-you very much - not that breast size is overly important to me) and that you don't really need to know the language as long as you can gesture effectively.
I've also learned a few more important things. This past January, the principal at one of my schools informed me that I would no longer be afforded the luxury of a car ride to school. He was actively refusing to allow one of the teachers (and my friend) from doing me a favour. I mean... there was no reason for this sudden snub. How can you tell someone they shouldn't pick up a friend to drive them to work?
Ordinarily, I don't mind riding my bicycle to school, but this particular school was an exact 10 kilometres away from my apartment. Ten kilometres through a heavily trafficked area where nothing actually exists but barren rice fields,a couple of 7-11's, car exhaust in abundance, and a cold whipping wind.
So. Nice and late on the Monday morning, I got on my blue convertible (the bicycle), and headed for school. Naturally, it was raining. Oh, and cold, too. Just slightly above freezing, actually.
It's amazing how that one degree Celsius can make the difference between the hellish nightmare of discomfort and the tranquil beauty of snow. I rode with clenched teeth, figuring on ways I could humiliate and then beat-up the principal. Needless to say, after a slow, cold and wet ride, I was not in a good mood upon my arrival at school.
Usually I get there in time ,for the teacher's meeting at 8AM. Not today. I actually left my place at around that time just so I could ensure I would arrive after the first period started.
As I sat down at my desk, dripping wet in my jeans (also the first time I had not worn a suit to work--all part of my silent protest), one of the o-cha ladies (a lady who serves green tea to the other teachers, but also has a second job a teacher of social sciences where students are taught about sexual equality. Nobody really passes that course), she gave me the first of my 18 cups of green tea (o-cha, again).
She then gestured towards the principal's office, and said, "Dozo (Please)." I take it she wanted me to go in and say 'herro'. I said "Ato de (later)."
Boy oh boy, you should have heard the sucking of air through  the teeth!
A few minutes later, the vice-principal made his appearance. I stood up, bowed and said "Herro." Hmmm, I think I'm developing a speech impediment. He, too, gesticulated towards the principal's office and said "Dozo." I told him the Japanese equivalent of 'No thanks. Maybe later.'
There was so much sucking of air by the rest of the teachers watching the situation, that the vice-principal promptly blacked out from the lack of oxygen.
Teachers rushed around and forced green tea down his throat (quickly brewed by the social science teacher), while the physical education teacher broke open a new carton of cigarettes and placed one between their fallen comrade's lips.
Luckily he survived. Survived to enjoy swollen kidneys and an agonizingly raspy cough.
Ten minutes later, after it was apparent I was going to sit and fume until I was dry, the principal came out of his room and welcomed me to his school. I think I managed a weak smile, but said nothing.
My show of disrespect to a 'superior' was certainly unheard of in Ohtawara. After all, I'd been quite the good little gaijin (foreigner) since arriving in Japan.
However, I decided to throw all of that to the wind in an effort to teach the Japanese some real internationalization. If respect is not offered to me, it certainly isn't going to be shown by me. Respect is not a 'given'. It has to be earned. At least that is what I think.
Still pissed off, I went to my four classes and had a surprisingly good time with the students. However, the onset of a cold was beginning to run down my nose, disgusting many a student. Coughing and sneezing quickly arrived, too.
I got 'permission' from the principal to leave school 30 minutes earlier than usual, and rode home angry in the cold rain.
I decided for no apparent reason to take a road I had never taken before, neither passing anyone or being passed - until I spied a little girl in a red rain slicker and matching boots walking along the side of the road whilst holding an umbrella.
She was barking at a dog. Mimicking it, actually. Anyone who knows me, knows that this is something I like to do as well.
I let go a deep Rottweiler-like bark (I did have four over the years). The dog she was barking at quickly shut up in respect. But my barking did cause the girl to quickly whip around to see if she was going to be killed by some sort of dog on a bicycle. She laughed when she saw it was only me. We had never met before.
I slowed down and said "Konichiwa (Hello)". She held her umbrella out to me seeing as I was completely soaked.
I was completely stunned. I stopped my bike, got off, held the umbrella over the two of us and slowly walked with her while pushing my bike.
Her name was Sachiko Watanabe, and she was seven-years-old. We asked each other the standard questions two people meeting for the first time would ask while we continued to bark like mad dogs in the rain. We laughed at our own silliness.
We finally gave our vocal chords a break from the barking while I tried to hold her umbrella, walk the bike and play rock-scissors-paper with her.
After a few minutes of puddle hopping, we came to a side road that led through yet another cross-section of rice fields. Sachiko pointed towards it and looked up at me. I sadly shook my head and pointed in the direction we had been traveling.
I handed back the umbrella, got on my bicycle and said good-bye.
We waved that frantic wave of new friends saying farewell and headed our separate ways. It was still raining, but it didn't seem so cold anymore.

Somewhere feeling better,
Andrew Joseph   
Today's title is by The Beatles -listen to it HERE via a 1967 Beatles cartoon. Why was I not aware these things existed before today?? This is brilliant!
PS: True story, bark for bark. Just when you think everything sucks, something or someone will always come along (eventually) to show you it doesn't suck. You DO have to be willing to listen, though.

Talent Is An Asset

Geisha in Kyoto - on a Telephone Card

For those of you going to Japan and expecting the place to be crawling with white-faced women in kimono's - let me set the record straight. That's not Japan. At least not anymore.

What is a Geisha? Well, for one thing, they aren't prostitutes. Geisha translates into gei (art) and sha (performer). Art performers - specifically performing traditional Japanese arts.

In my three years in Japan, I only saw one woman in full geisha garb - and thus I assume she was a geisha. One person. Yes,  there are plenty of television shows and ads featuring geisha (or someone purporting to be a geisha), but they are not a common sight in Japan.

The white face make-up, the fantastic kimono and the impossibly elaborate hair are three visual definitions of a geisha... but they are so much more. And I wish I could tell you more from personal experience, but I'm going to have to do so from information gleaned from books I've read. Yes, I can read.

Women wishing to enter the profession start at the age of 15 in Kyoto or 18 in Tokyo. There's a full year's training to become a geisha. Historically, geisha began the earliest training at the ages of 3-5 - merely watching and learning.

Now women can apprentice first as a maiko (which translates to 'dance child') or can begin training directly as a geisha--though women who first apprentice as a maiko are said to enjoy more prestige later on.

Way back in the 16th century, Japan had legalized pleasure quarters built with yuujo ('play women') who were fully licensed and classified. The highest level was the Oiran, who performed erotic dances, skits and yes, would sleep with their customer. Now these Oiran weren't stupid. They were educated in many performing arts as well as sex.

In the early 1700's, the geisha arose - they were men! Men who would entertain other men who were waiting at the pleasure quarters to see an Oiran.

Dancing girls--odoriko--were literally teenaged girls who were trained in the art of dance and were paid entertainers in the homes of samurai (Japanese warriors). When they were no longer teenagers, they were unable to called themselves odoriko, so instead adopted the name geisha, after the male entertainers. 

Around the mid-1700s, these new geisha forgo the sex aspect, concentrating solely on the entertainment aspect like their male colleague geisha. By the 1800's, the geisha was considered a woman's occupation. By the 1830's the geisha began changing their style to look high class, to go with the high class entertainment skills they were offering. It became more formalized.

Geisha on a bridge circa 1934 - from author's private photo collection.

So, there is indeed a prostitute angle here with the origins of the geisha--but most people wouldn't know that. During WWII, women--including geisha--went to work in the factories to keep their war efforts going. As such, there weren't any geisha practicing their trade--and there certainly weren't a lot of young women entering the trade. To make matters worse, after the war (please don't make me have to say who won the war), when the U.S occupied Japan, prostitutes actually called themselves "geisha girls" to all the Joe's in the U.S. forces.

After the war, the geisha profession began to build itself back up. Nowadays, they still offer the high-class entertainment skills of music, dance and conversation, but they also hold a high social status. Geisha are single women who have achieved economic self-sufficiency and independence in a male dominated Japanese society. It's a way of life without having to become a wife--an expected norm here in Japan.

Nowaday's, geisha ply their trade within the traditional Japanese tea houses or in Geisha houses.

• Skills: Well, musically, it could be the shamisen, shakuhachi, yokobue, drums, learning games, songs, calligraphy, traditional Japanese dances, tea ceremony rituals, literature and poetry.

• Appearance: Geisha have been known to continue performing into their 90s. The white-faced make-up we associate with the geisha is actually usually only worn by the apprentice maiko. Geisha will wear the full make-up on occasion during special performances. The white make up is applied to the face, neck and chest.

• Different hairpins and style of hair denote different stages or levels of geisha, as does the length of the eyebrow--the short eyebrows are for the younger geisha, longer for the older... though I'm unsure when that distinction is arrived at.

• Dress: The kimono is always something highly colourful... but what is interesting is the obi (belt) that is always brighter than the kimono she is wearing. Okay, I find it interesting.

Somewhere, my girdle is killing me,
Andrew Joseph
This blog's tile is by Sparks, from their album Kimono My House. The song title matches even if the song itself doesn't. HITLERONKEYBOARDS

Parallel Lines (& Other Non Sequitors)

Anyone who lives in any one place for awhile tends to start over-looking many of the things which would have previously shocked them. Fortunately for me, after a year-plus in Ohtawara (just the other side of Erehwon), that hasn't happened to me yet--or maybe it has and I just haven't noticed it. Oh well, no use in crying over o-cha (green tea) that may or may not already have been spilled.

Some of the things which continue to baffle the heck out of me are the parallel lines   that dissect every main thoroughfare of every city in Japan. I am, of course, talking (writing!) (whatever!) about the crosswalks.

According to Japanese traffic laws, a car must come to a complete stop to allow any person who is standing at a crosswalk, to cross. In my 13 months here, I've not once seen a car stop to allow anyone standing patiently at a crosswalk to cross. In fact, I've actually observed cars I've been in speed-up when they approach these designated crossing areas so they can pretend there wasn't enough time to stop.

Another observation: at a flashing yellow and red light, I've seen the cars that are supposed to stop, continue making the ones that don't have to stop, stop. I've actually tried to explain things to my driving companions, but I usually only get a "Honto?" (really?) or a smile that says, "Y'know, I really didn't know that one, and I'm forgetting you mentioned it now."

How about the dog owner? He like animals - just not in his house. After all, we can't have the little bugger messing up the grass tatami mats that make up our floor. And besides, since Japanese houses are often considered too small for people, where are you going to put the dog? The answer is, usually, outside. Yup. What lucky pup wouldn't pull at his choke chain to be afforded the luxury of his very own patch of stone and dirt with a total absence of that annoying soft and cool grass to lie upon? Ah, what's a dog to do? Well, according to the three (three??!!) miniature  collies that now surround my apartment complex, there is always the barking option. Woof. Talk about Three Dog Night.

Another confusing aspect of Japan is why the most preferred colour for an automobile is white. I asked around a bit and got numerous explanations. "White cars are easier to see in the night." was a popular answer. Sure, but if you have your headlights on, it shouldn't mater what colour the car is as you'll still be able to see it. Another explanation has it that for some reason "Ten years ago, white cars gave us a higher re-sale value." Okay, but why and what about nowadays? A final explanation on why white cars are so popular is: "White is pure, and we all want to be pure." Uh, yeah.

I would suppose even the most casual observer of life in Japan would have noticed the absence of common critters like squirrels. Although it could be argued that there aren't enough trees to support their habitat, there certainly are enough nuts.

Hey... you don't suppose all of the squirrels were killed trying to cross the road?

Somewhere waiting at a crosswalk,
Andrew Joseph
PS - Today's title is not by Three Dog Night, but rather by Blondie. In the liner notes for Blondie's Parallel Lines vinyl album (which, along with Pink Floyd's The Wall, it's the first album I ever bought with my own money) there are lyrics listed for a Parallel Lines song, though no such song exists on the album. The lyrics, written by Debbie Harry, are:

The lines I have written that you read between
The lines on the pages
The lines on the screen
Of lines spoken - I say what I mean.
It's parallel lines that will never meet

Ship in the desert
Ships in the night
Ships that pass in the night

Evangeline stream - Evangeline's dream,
It's parallel lines that will never meet.
But just in case you need a song to listen to, here's one of the first ever rap songs - called Rapture.

These Eyes

This one is sub-titled: Interview With A Japanese Housewife

This was more like a conversation than an interview, but I'm told that most of my conversations have the appearance of an interview because of my bluntness.

Yumiko was my friend. I met her through an Ohtawara city English class I donate my services to for ¥10,000 ($100) for a three-hour class. She has since moved away from Ohtawara, but she and I did get together for a friendly meeting or two.

She's 26-years old, about 5'-3", with jet black hair that hangs in shiny curtains past her shoulder blades and  possesses alabaster skin that would make all of the doll makers cry in shame. She's pretty, though perhaps not the head-turning type. What catches your attention are the eyes that sparkle with glee. Her lips tell a different story, though.

Yumiko has ben married for two years, and is pregnant. She lives in a company housing project apartment and tends the daily running of the household. I rode my bicycle out 30 minutes to visit her.

"I've been out to my old hometown of Kawaguchi to buy some clothes for my baby. They are very small. Almost all of them are white or yellow," she says in perfect, but hesitant English. When I asked why she only purchased items in those two colours, she smiled at me as though I was her baby and patiently explained: "I don't want to know that our baby is a boy or girl. But my doctor knows. I want the surprise."

When she and her husband went to visit her family, she said grimly that "We have grown about two kilograms." She then puffed out her cheeks and made a tiny piggie sound. She then asked me if I liked sumo. When I answered in the positive, she said, "Good. because I am now big enough to join. Please cheer for me."  How could I not?

Then it happened. I spoiled the moment by asking what she does during the day. She let out a big breath of air and shrunk a little. The smile slowly became invisible. "I don't like to wake up early in the morning in winter. But I wake up at 6:40AM (except on Saturday and Sunday). I prepare a sandwich for my husband that he eats. Then we have a sandwich, a cup of milk and fruit every morning."

"You and your husband?" I asked confused.

"No. He quickly eats his sandwich and leaves home at 7:10AM," she continued after pouring me a cup of o-cha (green tea). "It takes him three minutes to walk to his company. Then I sleep again. I'm a bad wife!! I wake up again at 10AM and wash and clean our rooms..."

"A bad wife? A bad wife?!" I shiver incredulously. "You do all of the housework, make him his breakfast AND you're seven months pregnant!"

She seems shocked by my 'western' ravings - and well she should be - this is the way it has always been in Japan. She agrees that it is not a fair world for the women of Japan, but she is confused that I would agree with her, what with being a man and all.

"I usually have lunch alone," she continued. "But sometimes with my friend." I notice the emphasis on the singular. "Do you have a school lunch, An-do-ryu? When I was in elementary school and junior high school, I always was looking forward to my school lunch.

"My friend is a Christian and an English teacher. She teaches me about the Bible once a week. I go to the public hall to study English twice a month and to learn patchwork once a month. I'm stitching a bag of patchwork - it's my hobby besides looking after my husband."

Did I detect some bitterness? Hmmm.

"I listen to classical and jazz music, read books and watch TV in my free time. My husband used to come home at 10PM all of last year - he works hard, but his pay is very low. He would have a bath and dinner and go to sleep almost immediately. I suppose he was very tired, so we didn't have enough time to talk with each other. I often felt sad and felt like I was a housemaid."

I want to say something, but don't for fear of depressing her even more. Perhaps sensing my discomfort, she added: "It's a wonder I am now pregnant."

Ah the twinkle is back! ... fading?... "But he comes home at 8:30PM this year because his boss has changed. So we have time to talk with each other."

She's smiling again, but I can still see the sadness lingering. There didn't seem to be much use in me prying into her life further, after all I have a pretty good understanding of where she is at right now. She's merely a lonely, pregnant housewife who would like to spend more time with someone - anyone, even a gaijin (foreigner) - but mostly her husband.

Damn this country.  It's not her husband's fault, it's just the way things are in Japan.

Somewhere I have to make time to talk with my wife more,
Andrew Joseph
PS: Today's title is by The Guess Who. You can listen to it here: 20/20

Photo above is from a New Year's Eve card Yumiko gave me.
Second photo shows off the reverse of that card - you'll notice that there are some numbers along the bottom - it's for a New Year's Day lottery. Since I never saw the results, I'm unsure if I ever won - or what you did win if your numbers came up. Matthew?

PPS - Photo below - That's Yumiko's baby 17+years ago.

Teacher, Teacher

Let me tell you about what a day is like for me in the first couple of months in Japan.
I'm going to break it down into two parts - today's episode is about school; and tomorrow's is about personal life.

It's Tuesday, September 11, 1990, and it's the first day of class at Kaneda Kita Chu Gakko (Kaneda North Junior High School).
I'm up at 6:30AM, do a load of laundry and hang it outside on my northern balcony while awaiting Gunji-san, the school nurse, who arrives at 8AM. (Check out the scan here at the top telling me about my transportation details).
She's nice and has a radar detector for some reason in her too small white car. She's always smiling and speaks little English - but that's okay, because I want her to concentrate and continue hunching over the steering wheel as she navigates the 1-1/2 lane paths through rice field after rice field on the way to school. We do chat, and I think I know what she means maybe 65-70% of the time... I pretty much understand one word and hope like heck that that is the subject.
We arrive at school at 8:15AM - a 15 minute car ride that would have taken me 45 minutes to ride, if my boss Hanazaki-san had not intervened and told them they need to provide me with a car ride... besides, I don't think I ever would have found the place (my atrocious lack of direction may also have had something to do with Hanazaki-san's decision).  
I warn the teachers that I might be upset because of I had a fight with my girlfriend last night (again). I even tell them who it is (fellow AET Ashley), because I'm looking for compassion.
As a nice welcome to Kaneda Kita - surprise - I'm asked to give a short speech to the teachers and then one to the school. Aaarrrggh! Good thing I kept the one I prepared for last week's visit to Ohtawara Junior High School.
When I'm done, they present me with flowers - an outstanding display that I will attempt to re-gift to Ashley. I'm cheap, not stupid.

Check out the scan at the side here, showing my school schedule - pretty busy, eh? Apparently I don't go to the schools  on Monday - I spend it at the OBOE (Ohtawara Board of Education) - funny, in 2010, I thought it was Fridays I spent there. Good thing I wrote stuff down.

Each class is a solid 50-minutes long. There are three classes of first-years (Grade 7); four second-years (Grade 8); and three third-years (Grade 9). Despite the newness of it all, I find the classes boring as both Yashiro Keiichiro-sensei and Sagawa Ise-sensei (sensei means teacher) translate everything I say into Japanese.
This shows how naive I was, as I expected the kids to understand what I was saying. Nope. Even dumbed down a bit, I was speaking several levels ahead of where these kids were, and I was too stupid to know it yet - what with this being my second week of actual team-teaching. If you scroll down to the bottom, you can see a page of a first-year English book the kids use. Why would I think they would understand everything I tell them in a self-introduction? Even I don't understand half the things I say or write.
Between classes, some of the students come and chat with me in broken English and broken Japanese, and I appreciate the effort, because at least it shows that some of them like me.
After arm wrestling a really strong boy or three (read about it HERE), I meet a really grubby kid - Wakanabe Hakashi-kun (kun implies "boy"/chan is used for girls - and like in all Asian countries, the surname is placed ahead of the given name... he's Wakanabe-san or Hakashi-kun). This boy hates to study (so his teachers tell me), but he's a nice kid even though he likes to pull on my substantial arm hair.
Lunch (in class 1-1) is a rather filling combination of milk, rice, fish (salmon), salad, chicken and (back at the teacher's office) several cups of o-cha (green tea - of which I would have anywhere between five to seven cups of a day at work - not by choice, mind you, but because it is offered up by the female staff, and I didn't want to insult anyone by saying 'no thanks').
While in the office after lunch, a man walks into the place (he's not a teacher), sees me and walks over and asks if he can see my hands (in English he said: Han-do, pu-reez). Shocked that I understood him, I complied. Now with Keiichiro-sensei (he prefers I call him Yashiro - in a cool sign of friendship) translating, this guy wants to read my life lines on my palm. It's free, so what the heck?
He says I'm going to live a long and happy life with a good strong wife and kid--just one (so far, by 2010, he's right). He says I will work on my own and that I am very lucky, with luck dominating my being. I will also be rich.
(In 2010, I work as a writer - pretty much on my own, and have always considered myself lucky because my life is actually pretty good - although I am not rich - well, only in the things that count, and I'm pretty p-o'd about it. C'mon retirement fund lottery!

For some reason I think the rest of the afternoon classes are boring - more translation and less real interaction, I suppose. Is it going to be like this for my entire time here?
When 5PM comes, Gunji-san drives me home - and lo and behold I'm at my apartment in 15 minutes - with my flowers.

Somewhere reading between the lines,
Andrew Joseph
Today's title is by .38 Special and can be heard HERE.
The scan beside this shows as page from a 1st -year English textbook. 
Oh... and if you wish, here are a few photos of Kaneda Kita Chu Gakko - SCHOOL DAZE.

John The Fisherman

Continuing from where we left off yesterday (it's August 28, 1990 and I'm on a surprise road trip courtesy of my boss at the Ohtawara Board of Education), Hanazaki-san and I are touring the Basho-no Sato Museum in Kurobane Village (now a part of Ohtawara-shi as of 2005).

Looking at some armour, the samurai wore a metal face shield that had a permanent scowl on it complete with long grey whiskers added for ferocity. True or not, I was told that because so few Japanese could grow a decent beard (that doesn't seem right), the facial hair was added to make it seem like the wearer was a wild man. On the samurai helmets is a gold inlay - and it looks beautiful.
There are also arm and ankle protectors that appears to have bamboo on the outside with a metal mesh underneath. Hanazaki-san tells me the whole get-up could weigh between 30-40 kilograms. Man, no wonder the face masks had a scowl.

We examine some maps and scrolls showing how to travel from Kanemaru House (MY Kanemaru-san's family comes from a famous line of samurai!) here on the property down south to Edo (the old name for Tokyo). One map unfolded is about 30-feet long and when folded four inches thick.

We walk over to a meeting area where the samurai would eat, drink green tea (o-cha) and relax in front of a fireplace of sorts. I drew this (in 1990) to show you what it looks like (It says  'sand embers for fire' and 'table':

We then walked to an expansive garden with Hanazaki-san telling me I should build one like this in Toronto - I wish. We exit through a big red gate (after a total of 40 minutes).

Driving down the road towards a bridge over the Nake Gawa (Nake - pronounced nah-kay - River), Iso-san of the OBOE, who has actually been our chauffeur (but deigned not to accompany us in the museum), asks me in decent English (he must have been studying while I was touring!) if I have ever seen yana.
 I say 'no' because I have no idea what yana is - so we drive into a valley to see some up close. At first I think he means bamboo (take - pronounced tah-kay)... but then I realize he means a traditional Japanese fishing trap made from 8-metre-long bamboo poles - because that's what Hanazaki-san explains to me.
Anyhow, out in the river sits a yana fish trap. It's about 75-feet long made of bamboo that is tied together like a raft. One end of it is immersed into the fast flowing river. Water can and does flow through the cracks in the tied together yana, but they want that. With one end submerged, the other end is raised maybe six feet out of the water.
This is another drawing I made that day - obviously I'm not an artist, but hopefully you get the idea (from left it says: water/log/yana/bridge to edge):

Okay... if my drawing was not good enough, go here, but COME BACK.
The fish are forced onto the bamboo by the river, but with the water falling through the cracks, the fish are left ripe for the plucking.
The types of fish caught here are: Ayu (Japanese sweetfish) that have the same silvery sheen as a mackerel but are only five to six inches long; carp (koi) 12 to 18 inches long; and eel (unagi) in the nine to 10-inch range.
I walk along a flimsy wooden bridge to the yana - holding onto a rope on the side, I make my way down. I nearly wipe out in to the river six or seven times because I'm wearing dress shoes, but I make it down to pick up a flopping ayu. The water is suzushi (cool), but not samui (cold), and I don't mind getting a little wet.
As we leave the river, we walk to a restaurant 100 metres away where they cook ayu. They take them still alive and kicking from a bucket and dump them into a large square pan where they flip around some more. Three men each take six-inch long skewers and impale the fish through the gills and then through the body twice, sort of scrunching it up a little. Thank goodness the fish finally dies (I hope).
One of the men (Vlad the Impaler) tells me in perfect English (what the heck??!!) that the ayu have a very short life span of one year, with its name translating into the aforementioned sweetfish. I have four or five - it's extremely tasty and salty - and this is coming from a guy who doesn't care for fish all the much.
I'm not sure how much money these guys could possibly make in a day, but because they were able to practice their English with An-do-ryu sensei (he knew who I was??!!), there was no charge.
As I left, he yelled out to me: "Please enjoy your stay in our country!"
Anyhow... that's all for now... we'll continue with our trip through the outskirts of Ohtawara tomorrow.

Somewhere enjoying my stay, but wishing I had an ayu on a stick right now,
Andrew Joseph
PS - Today's title was caught by Primus... weird but their Sailing on the Seas of Cheese album is one of my all-time favourites! Have a listen to the title song - HERE.
PPS - crappy drawings aside, at the top is a photo of some bamboo growing near an Ohtawara playground situated (without fences) beside a graveyard.

PPPS - John is my first name.
PPPPS - Okay - Here's a photo I took of a yana on the Nake Gawa:

Be True To Your School

It’s Tuesday, September 5th and my first day of school at Ohtawara Junior High School, the largest middle school in the city.

I had actually visited the school the day previous, but had spent the day in the teacher's office, as apparently some standardized student testing was going on. Of course, I didn't know that until after arriving.
That means I spent two sleepless night worrying about my first day of teaching. To say I was nervous was a complete misunderstanding of the word. Scared spitless… yes, my mouth was dry.
Leaving my apartment, I rode my large 18-speed bicycle the ten minutes down a newly paved stretch of road with a plethora of rice fields around me. Hundreds of students walked or rode a bicycle in the same direction. Children of the Rice.
At 8AM, I arrived safely at Ohtawara Junior High School (aka Dai Chu - Big Junior - as it was the biggest junior school in the city.) and parked my bicycle in the already crowded bike rack, and locked it up. Checking out the other bikes, I notice that not one of them was locked up. Despite being in a city, the school is contained within a large area of farmland. Not exactly a hub of criminal activity.
Walking slowly to the teacher’s office, every single student (gakusei) glances at me, bows deeply and says, “ohio gozaimasu (good morning)!” Respect! Baby, I love this place!
I’m wearing a light grey suit and tie and have a green backpack with me containing the English language books for years 1-3 that I will be using to team-teach with a Japanese Teacher of English. Hence forth, these folks will always be called “teachers”. Me, I’m an Assistant English Teacher (AET), and by the time I’m done, these brilliant Japanese kids will be speaking English like a native (not like a Texan, Bawstonian or New Yawker) and know all of the idioms like the peace sign and the thumbs up. Okay... they all know the peace sign. More in another blog.
As soon as I arrive, I make sure I go over and bow first to Principal Mori (kouchou–sensei), the vice-principal (kyouto–sensei) and then to the other teachers (sensei). Everyone is smiling. Everyone is glad to see me. Everyone is speaking Japanese to me.
That’s cool. This is Japan, afterall. I should be speaking their lingo. I just can’t yet. Luckily, Shibata-sensei comes by. He’s a mid-20’s skinny, hip guy with good hair that has obviously seen some gel, and is pulled back up onto his head with a slight messy tousle. Handsome guy. I'll post some pix of him in the next blog...
After five minutes of talking with him (in English), it’s obvious that he has a fantastic sense of humour—as do the other young teachers around, as everyone is laughing and cracking funnies in English! Even some of the older teachers join in. Nani? (What?) This teaching thing is going to be friggin’ easy!
I should mention that as soon as I sat down (next to Ryuichi Shibata), I was immediately brought a small clay-fired mug by one of the pretty women there and poured a nice steaming hot cup of o-cha (green tea). Thanks to Styx, I was able to say domo arigato (thank-you very much), leaving out the Mister Roboto crap. Really, check out this video by the Polysix: HERE. Remember, click on the coloured words in my blogs!
Because of my dry mouth, I quickly drained my cup. Seconds later, another woman was pouring more tea for me. Thanks again. I drank it. More tea, from another woman. Hmmm, I think I see a trend. Let’s confirm. I threw back another and saw the first three women jan-ken-pon (rock-paper-scissors) to see who would get to serve me. Not sure if it was the winner or the loser.
So, it appears as though the women make and serve the tea to the teachers… turns out that the women are teachers, too. Young or old, experienced or inexperienced, the women get the tea for the men. It doesn't matter where you work or go, that's the reality of this male-centric country. I’m no male chauvinist, but the guy in me could see that this country was… what’s the word I’m looking for… oh yeah… AWESOME!
Look… read the intro to the blog under the title… I’m calling myself an idiot, okay?
Anyhow, I now had four cups of green tea in me, and it flowed right through me. I had to go. Unfortunately, before I could mention my predicament, Shibata-sensei also told me it was time to go. Not sure what he meant, I bit my lip and followed him.
We went outside to a large building that was obviously the gymnasium. There, all of us teachers took off our shoes and put on some stupid, floppy slippers. Luckily, my large feet were anticipated, so they had slippers for me in size 30. Japanese shoe sizes are measured in centimeters. My 10-1/2 US shoes are equivalent to 30cm Japanese, which equals one foot. How handy. Or footy.
Did I mention that the slippers were pink with green cartoony frogs on them? Why are all the slippers that fit me, pink? What's with the frogs? Do men like pink?

Following Shibata-sensei up a set of stairs I suddenly realized that I was now walking on a stage in front of the entire student body of about 700 students. Junior high school, for those unaware, consists of Grades 7, 8 and 9 aka Year 1, 2, and 3.
The students were in their dress uniforms. They looked resplendent!
Behind me on the stage (see photo above) was a large flag of Canada, Japan, and one of Ohtawara. Awesome!
The principal gets up to the podium. Someone yells out “Bey!” All of the student bow in unison. The principal gives a slight nod of acknowledgment. He then gives a speech in Japanese. Concludes. Someone yells “Bey!” again. Another bow by the students. I'm unsure of the spelling of the word bey, or even what it means, but it obviously meant something to the students.
Shibata-sensei then says it’s time for me to give a speech. Say wha-? No one told me! Or did they? Damn this language thing.
Okay. No big deal. I majored in political science, I can sling with the best of them.
I told the crowd how happy I was to be in Japan, and how much I was looking forward to meeting all of the students. I  hoped that as I taught them English, they could also teach me Japanese and about Japan. It was all translated very quickly and efficiently by Shibata-sensei. If he was actually relating what I said, he was very good at English translation.
Anyhow, when I finished, the thunderous silence was deafening until someone yelled out “Bey!” and everyone bowed. I did the same, brought my head up and smiled my biggest smile. It started a murmur within the crowd of students.
I think they finally realized I wasn’t your standard teacher, despite my grey suit.
I looked to go back to my seat on stage, but Shibata-sensie held up a hand and shook his head no.
A pretty young female student (who’s kidding whom! They were all pretty!) got up on stage with a handsome young male student (this boy, wasn’t so handsome, but that just might be me) who held a large bouquet of flowers.
They bowed to the Japanese flag, bowed to principal, and then bowed to me. Dammit. I forgot to bow to the Japanese flag and to the principal! Getting to know these social customs is going to be a chore! But I’ll figure it out!
The girl said, in English: “Welcome to Japan and to our school, An-do-ryu sensei. We look forward to you teaching us English. Thank-you.” Are they all this good at speaking Japanese?
She grabbed the flowers from the boy, handed them to me, both bowed deeply while I did the same. Awwww. 

This time, I bowed to the student body, looked up smiled and winked at them (lots more murmuring!), turned, bowed to the principal and then bowed to the Japanese flag. I didn’t bow to the Canadian flag, because that’s not what we Canadians do. I’m not actually sure what we do to our flag, but I’m sure bowing isn’t on the agenda.
As I sat down, everyone else stood up. Someone yelled “Bey!” Everyone bowed and left the auditorium.
It’s 9:30AM. I’m emotionally and physically drained. Unfortunately, my kidneys are not. I still have to teach...
Somewhere bowing to pee-r pressure,
Andrew Joseph
Title by The Beach Boys