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(L-R: Iso-san; Hanazaki-san (standing), pear farmer and wife, my mother Lynda Hyacinth Joseph

It's been an exciting past two days, as the people of Japan have really taken a shine to my mom, Lynda, as she visits Ohtawara-shi (City of Ohtawara), Tochigi-ken (Tochigi Prefecture), Japan from Toronto.

I've been here 13 months already, so perhaps I am old news to the people of Japan... but then being invited to participate in - not just watch - the Sakuyama Obon Matsuri (Sakuyama Festival of the Dead)... well, it's nice to feel good again. I've been on a major downer lately as my girlfriend or woman troubles have really taken their toll on me. I'm not clinically depressed or anything, but I wonder if anyone I know is? Hmm. I'd ask, but I'm too much of a coward.

Yesterday, the OBOE (Ohtawara Board of Education) took my mother and myself all around the outskirts of Ohtawara to see sites I've not even seen before. I'm unsure if that was because my mother was with me or if it was because I brought a large bottle of good Canadian whiskey for the OBOE superintendent.... I'm sure it was my mom!

It's Thursday, August 19, 1991, and I go into the office again in the morning. My vacation is up, so even though there is no school for me to teach due to summer vacation, I am still expected to be at work at the OBOE. That's fair, of course.

At the OBOE, I try to sort out the upcoming issue of the Tochigi JET (Japan Exchange & Teaching) Programme newsletter, The Tatami Times. I'm the editor-in-chief, which means I have to put the content together. Because a lot of new people have just arrived in Japan (and Tochigi-ken) one month ago, I need to make sure that I present them with interesting and useful materials along with the usual mindless comedic crap. The magazine is a mess... as I have no idea what to include or where to put it. I actually have too much material.

I head home at lunch and then pick up my film (or rather my mom's film) from the Iseya department store. When you receive your film back (remember, this was 1991!), the clerks open up the film envelope and show you a photo so that you can assure them that it is your film.

At Iseya, the place is essentially run by pretty young Japanese girls in their early 20s. They took great delight in opening up my mom's entire set of photos and placed them out for me—and the other young girls they called over—to see. I am always an object of great amusement for them. I wonder why I've never asked any of them out? I guess I need to gain greater Japanese language skills.

They ask me all about the places in the film, and who is taking photos of me. They giggle with delight as I try to explain that it is my mom's film and that I do not have a girlfriend right now.

I head home totally bedazzled by all of the female attention and chat with my mom a bit before heading back to the OBOE at 1PM. Hanazaki-san asks me with a pained look on his face of I am busy.

"No."
"Then let's leave."

So we do, dropping my my apartment to pick up my mom. I love surprises!

Iso-san, the gentleman who usually drives us around in his white van, joins us, but this time we are in Hanazaki-san's white Jaguar... what he calls his Toyota Camry. I'm telling you, I got lucky! My office crowd has a wonderful sense of humour... I've heard of other offices for AETs (assistant English teachers) are often rather dour.

Oh... and juts so you know, I had already given Iso-san (and Hanzaki-san) a present earlier, to thank him for looking after me here in Japan. It's nothing great, but it's from the heart.

We first go to the Sakuyama district (in Ohtawara) pear farm I visited last year (photo HERE) and get to load up on free pears and grapes. Okay, I do the loading up, as my mom is leaving for Canada tomorrow. Remember mom - don't tell Canadian customs you visited any farms!

Catacombs with 100's of Buddha statues.

Then we drive out to Yawn, sorry, Yaita-shi (Yaita City) to the Sawa Kannon-ji (fountain spring-goddess temple). It's about 400 years old and is in really great shape. We head down into its catacombs where there are hundreds of Buddha statues! Back topside, my mom and I load up on good luck charms (all of which I lost in my house fire three years ago).

It's raining now. What with Ame Otoko (Rain Man = me) and Ame Oka-san (Rain Mother = my mom), how could it not?

Iso-san then takes my mom over to the kimono school across from the Nozaki-eki (Nozaki train station) that is currently the only JR (Japan Rail) station in Ohtawara. To me, it's actually farther away than the one up at Nishinasuno-machi (Nishinasuno Town) to the northwest of Ohtawara.

My mom tries on a kimono... photos galore via her camera, and just to prove that it's not really a mom-thing, but a camera-thing, it runs out of film. I can see now in 2011 why digital cameras are so awesome.

Kimono school teacher and my mom.

My mom bought a kimono - just not this one... hers was purchased while out west. I'll see if it still fits me and take a photo. Not.

The school has a scale there to weigh bolts of cloth, so I get on and weigh myself, coming in at 77 kilograms (which is just under 170 pounds). All right! I've lost 3 kilograms (~6.5 pounds) since arriving. How the heck did I do that considering all of the booze I've been imbibing?!       

We then head back to the office, as I'm supposed to meet the new English teacher taking over for Nozaki Chu Gakko's (Nozaki Junior High School's) Ishihara Norko-chan (surname first), who was a good friend of mine. She introduces herself as Mrs. Hiyama... so I have no idea what her given name is.

Her English is rusty, but she's really nice and we chat for an hour. Why won't she leave and go back to her school?!

Hanazaki-san then drops us off at my apartment, and by US, I mean myself, my mom and Hiyama-sensei (Hiyama teacher). I guess bevause it was raining, I left my bicycle at the office - and it is now, in fact, pouring like someone should be building an ark and gathering the animals.


I was supposed to have dinner in Nishinasuno tonight with all of the other AETs in our northern section - including Karen, the new girl in Yaita who wants to be my girlfriend. I just want to get laid. I don't want a relationship. Anyhow, since it's my mom's last night here, I stay home and eat a burger and fries dinner.

Naoko and Suzuki Tokunori (the gentleman who allowed me to participate in the Sakuyama Obon Matsuri) come over to make their good-byes to my mom. I think she wishes I would have hooked up with Naoko, as she really took a shine to her.

She shows Naoko some photographs of her trip to western Japan, making sure she sees pictures of a guy she met that she thinks would be perfect for Naoko. Ah... my mom the pimp.

Everyone wants to talk to my mom - including Hiyama-sensei who is still there and joined us for dinner. I have to admit, it was nice to not be--or want to be--the center of attention for once.

Naoko, ever the classy broad, phones for a taxi to come and pick us up tomorrow. Nice.

Somewhere wishing these past three days could have lasted forever,
Andrew Joseph
Today's blog title is originally a Bob Dylan song: This VERSION is sung by Roger McGuinn (The Byrds, whose version of this song I love), Tom Petty (& The Heartbreakers), Neil Young (Buffalo Springfield; Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young - he's Canadian),  Eric Clapton (The Yardbirds; John Mayall & The Bluesbreakers; Cream; Blind Faith; Derek & The Dominoes - his dad was Canadian), Bob Dylan, George Harrison (The Beatles). Ah, but I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now.
PS: The photo up above is indeed one from my mom's camera - I took it. Hard to believe my mom is Indian with that complexion, eh? Plus, she's 52 in this photo. I refrained from posting a photo of her until this moment, her last fun day in Japan... she died two years later of a disease you only hear about on the television show House. It breaks my friggin' heart to look at her photo, let alone write about her. I know she would have laughed her head off reading every single one of my Japan - It's A Wonderful Rife adventures. She missed me getting married, having a fantastic son, and would have been there for me when I needed her the most. It hurts everyday knowing that and living in the house where she died. Crap. I'm tearing up now.

Johnny Carson Theme Song

With apologies to novelist Charles Dickens... this blog is about Great Expectations. 

It's Tuesday, August 13, 1991. After meeting my mom in Thailand (she flew in from Toronto), and spending a few days there, we are now back in my town! Ohtawara-shi (Ohtawara City), Tochigi-ken (Tochigi Prefecture), Japan.

Despite the raunchy sexual time I had with a pair of Thai women, it's still good to be back home - and that's what Ohtawara is to me. Home.

My friend John - also from Toronto - has spent the past week here in Japan by himself or hanging out with his friend Barb, who is apparently living in Tokyo. I have no idea who she is or what she does. The brief meeting I had with her left no indelible mark on my life except to think that she's a twit. I think I meant to put an 'a' in there, instead of an "'i".

John is apparently out seeing the country, and he left no food or drink in my place (except for a couple of eggs and tea) before departing.

So the first thing I have to do today is go shopping for food at Iseya. With my mom, Lynda, as she wants to see what a Japanese supermarket looks like. I hate to say, folks... but it looks like any other supermarket in the world. Brightly lit, lot of aisles and food placed in places you'd never expect to find it.

My temper with John is growing to legendary proportions. I guess it's because he's come here with expectations for me. He expects me to be fluent in Japanese; to be able to know where every place is in Japan; how to get to every place in Japan; and even know my way around Tokyo. Remember... this is 1991. No World Wide Web yet. Heck... I've only been down to Tokyo maybe five or six times myself.

He expects me to do this, do that... and I hate it when people expect me to do anything... that's when I rebel.

Before we go out, I do laundry for my mom - which I think blows her mind, as she has never seen me do laundry... as I always expected her to do it for me back before I left home.

Still, despite it being MY place... my mom insists on cooking dinner for us. Old habits, I suppose... but I appreciate a touch of home cooking.

Just as she finishes cooking the meal and we are about to sit down to eat - Here's Johnny at my doorstep.

I am not amused. My mood is rather sharp the rest of the evening.

Great expectations. I hate'em.

Somewhere expecting a headache,
Andrew Joseph
Today's blog title is the theme song to The Tonight Show starring Johnny Carson. The show's instrumental theme is a rearrangement of the the Paul Anka song called 'Toot Sweet'.

Free Bird

I'm at Wakakusa Chu Gakko (Wakausa Junior High School) today, Wednesday June 26, 1991. I have another four English classes to team teach - and it's tiring, but at least it beats being back in Toronto having to find honest work during the recession.
Here in Ohtawara-shi (City of Ohtawara) in Tochigi-ken (Tochigi Prefecture), this school is the only junior high school that has separate classes for the mentally-challenged kids. I eat lunch with them every day - it's fun.
Today I played the piano for them - Bumble Bee Boogie - in their class room.
I notice that some of the kids are playing a joke on their teacher - but I shut up and let them go about their business - because what the heck! I love a good joke, too.
Because Japanese kids serve lunch to their fellow students and teacher in their class - the same holds true here. They pile a lot of cheese onto the plate of one bot who absolutely hates cheese! The look on his face is priceless! As well, they add about 10 chopsticks - of different size - to the plate of their teacher! Riot!
I play with the kids for a bit after eating - and then it's the typical clean-up time when all of the kids clean their class room and hallways before heading out to play.
Because the teacher's have a meeting, I'm taken home early - as the meeting is all in Japanese - and despite being called a teacher, I sure as heck am not one. For one thing, I'm better paid than a veteran 20-year-teacher. Truth. Sad but true, folks. I believe one such teacher - Mr. Inoue over at Ohtawara Chu Gakko (Ohtawara Junior High School) once confided his salary to me... it was the equivalent of $26,000 a year. I made $36,000 a year as an assistant English teacher (AET) on the JET (Japan Exchange & Teaching) Programme.
Back home, I ride out to my back doctor and feel quite good afterward. Back home I eat dinner and go to kyudo (Japanese archery). I haven't played much since being hit by two cars in separate incidents last autumn. Part of it has been a reluctance to participate because I'm not as good as I think I should be - even as a beginner, but also because I did bugger up my shoulder.
Kanemaru-san (Mr. Kanemaru), who is one of my bosses at the OBOE (Ohtawara Board of Education) is the one who got me involved in this sport - and I feel as though I have not only let myself down, but him as well.
Tonight, however, I shoot well . I don't know if this was a bad thing, but I placed the arrow's feather through my lips to smooth them down. I have no idea if it helped or not, bit I did shoot better. Maybe that's my good luck thing. Still, despite the good shooting, I tire easily.
Kanemaru-san has been instructing me on form... and while I do have some strength back, the whole bow and arrow thing scares the heck out of me. He tells me that my form is pretty good - and that's half the battle in kyudo.

While I figure I tire easily due to a lack of practice in using certain muscles, the Ohtawara Kyudo Club feels that I should be using a bow that requires less brute strength to pull it.
The ego in me likes having the heaviest bow in the club, but the reality of the situation is that despite being the big, bad gaijin (foreigner), I'm not as strong as I thought I was. I defer to their wishes.
They then try to give me a two-finger archery glove - but I prefer my three-finger glove as it seems to help me keep my face out of the way when I draw the string back.
I shoot well all evening, and remember all of the form techniques one must master to shoot properly.
As such, before I leave for the evening, I tell them I want to shoot at a real target (60 feet away?) in two weeks, rather than the practice one that sits eight feet in front of me. Kanemaru-san says "okay". His English is getting better, as he an I didn't have to use the Japanese to English dictionary all that much today.
I'm psyched at my progress today.
Tim Mould calls me up. He's the Kuroiso-shi (Kuroiso City) Boys High School AET. He asks me to write a letter to the new AET who will be coming to his city to teach junior high in August. What the heck? I like to write. And I seem to know what I'm doing as an AET.
I try to call Susan St. Cyr regarding the last weekend at Disneyland and about life, but she's not home. I call Mary Mueller up - she was the leader of the Tochigi-ken JET AETs - and though she is with a guy named Peter, I still have a major crush on her. I could listen to her talk for hours and hours, and thanks to her ability to carry a conversation, I frequently do listen to her talk for hours and hours.
Oh yeah... before kyudo, I went to the Iseya grocery/department store near my home and ran into some students from Ohtawara Chu Gakko. They followed me from one store to another (Mimasuya) and then back to my apartment. They followed me up the elevator and to my apartment door and then came into visist for a while.
It ticked me off - because despite me telling you readers everythging about my life, I still enjoy my privacy. So I called my other OBOE boss, Mr. Hanazaki.
He immediately called the principal of Ohtawara Chu Gakko, and then called me back to say that it won't ever happen again.

Somewhere again starting to feel like I belong in Japan,
Andrew Joseph 
Today's blog title is by Lynyrd Skynyrd - because I feel uncaged today - plus I'm licking bird feathers on arrows. ICAN'TCHANGE

Santa Claus Is Coming To Town

It's was around this time in 1990 when I felt pretty darn low.

This was my first Christmas away from my Canadian family and friends, as I was now living in Ohtawara-shi, Tochigi-ken, Japan

Because of major blow-ups with Ashley (my on-again, off-again girlfriend for the first two years of Japan rife), whatever plans we had made to go traveling together to Thailand were in pieces.

To further complicate matters, after she broke... I mean, after I broke up with her, she made arrangements to go to Thailand with three other female AETs. I had tried to do the same, but those girls didn't want me around. Just kidding. Hmmm... probably not kidding. 

Instead of Thailand, I tried to make arrangements to fly out of Japan with Tim Mould - a late arrival in Japan and thus also late in planning a vacation - I wanted to go anywhere. I was desperate. Anywhere but here!

I tried and I tried to get a flight out but they wouldn't let me change my travel locale of Thailand... to be honest, the last thing I wanted to do was to be in Thailand the same time as Ashley - even if we were back together this week. uhhh... hang on... nope... we just broke up again.

Just before Ashley was to leave, we got back together again. Feeling stupid with a lack of blood flow to my brain, I gave her my Donald Duck watch to wear. It was a treasured keepsake that I had bought several months previous in Canada - and is treasured because I love Donald Duck - did you know he doesn't wear any pants? Also... he can't fly... but Daffy Duck can. Just like in real life - white ducks can't fly... eerie, huh?

I used to wear two watches at a time - one on the left arm (the watch I still have on in 2010), and one on the right (Donald). It was a style of fashion in those days - at least it was one I was trying to start. For the records, I also used to roll up one leg of a pair of shorts and keep the other one long. Sadly, the rest of the world wasn't interested in following my lead, but it did make me stand out.

"Hey! There's that idiot Andrew wearing the lopsided shorts and two watches!"

"Yes, but at least he has the legs to pull it off!"

It's true. I still have the legs to pull off wearing two watches.

Anyhow... back to the story. I was sad. Sad for myself that Ashley was going away without me and I wasn't going to get laid for awhile. Sad because I wasn't going away on vacation. Sad because I was away from my Canadian contingent. And sad because I had to stay in boring old Japan.

It's sounds stupid, but that was what I was thinking. I'm thousands of kilometres from Toronto and living in Japan (It's actually 8500 kilometres and about 6500 miles). I'm a stranger in a strange land having the time of my life. I even got laid by three different women in the five months I've been here... those are pretty damn fine numbers considering the previous 25 years had nada!

Realizing how lucky I was, I got off my ass and marched outside and walked the 100 meters or so into the downtown core of Ohtawara-shi. It was starting to snow. And though it was cool, it wasn't Arctic cold. I was home and I might as well act like it. I caught snowflakes on my tongue and got rosy red cheeks. It's Christmas time and home is where the heart is.

I went out and bought a small live coniferous tree from the local Iseya department/grocery store. I brought it back home and decorated it with all sorts of knick-knacks that I had already picked up. That's what the photo is of up above! And by gum, I had a great Christmas. 

Of course the alcohol helped a bit too. Kalula and Rum & Coke and egg nog with... to be honest I ran out of booze when it was egg nog time, but it was still pretty tasty even though it upset the heck outta my weak stomach. I think it's the nut meg. Ugh.

And Matthew. That bugger didn't go anywhere, either. In fact - despite him being my best friend in Japan, he and I never really traveled together outside the city. At least not very far. I think he was busy trying to pick up women. Since he eventually married local babe Takako, it seems like he stuck to his plan until she stopped trying to run away and gave in to his charm.

I spent Christmas in Japan - and after talking to a lot of the other AETs in other towns, it seems like most of them had traveled outside the country and only returned after the new year. Matthew and I - we were in Japan, and we got the whole Japanese experience over most other gaijin who wanted to see other countries. We had a damn fine time on our own and together.

There's nothing wrong with traveling, but when in Japan, you should at least take part in the social customs and holidays. Thanks to a shockingly bad break-up with Ashley for a couple of weeks, I was able to do just that.

Somewhere enjoying Christmas in Japan,

Andrew Joseph

Today's title is performed by Bruce Springsteen: CLARENCE

Thanks Matthew! And Merry Christmas to all! Happy Hannukah! Have a Kwazy Kwanza! And... if I've left anyone out - have a Happy Holiday season!

PS: I'll be back tomorrow!

PPS: And why did he mention that stupid watch?

PPPS: And why does he keep mixing up its grammar?
PPPPS: And where did Matthew and Andrew hang out when they weren't drinking and trying to pick up women?
PPPPPS: I've dug up some whimsical writing of Matthew's that I am going to reprint tomorrow - it's witty and funny and emphasizes the Japanese view on Christmas. I know! I can't wait.

Gimme Some Lovin'

I have spent a lot of time talking about Japan, but very little about Ohtawara, which is fine, but Ohtawara is my home for the next little while, and I think it's only fair I show you around.
The following takes place on Monday, August 20, 1990. It's my third week in Japan.
The players for the next three years are Matthew Hall from New York, my girlfriend Ashley from Georgia, and Kanemaru-san, Hanazaki-san who work at the Ohtawara Board of Education (OBOE) and are my co-supervisors--it really means they are reasonsible for my well-being while I am working and living in Japan.
Today is my official welcome to Ohtawara party. Sitting in the office, at 1PM Hanazaki-san drives me to the local Ashikaga Ginkko (Bank of Ashikaga) where I get an ATM (automated teller machine) card and a quick lesson on how to with draw money. I take out 50,000 yen in five bills. Apparently that's $500. Yeesh. He drives me to my apartment at 1:30 to try out the new bicycle they have bought for me and just had delivered. It's a large blue 18-speed bicycle - much better than the tiny Zero-speed bike my predecessor, Cheryl, used last year.
I decide to ride out to Iseya and do some shopping. I purchase a cereal box that's a hologram--the entire box--and some much needed Coke. It costs the equivalent of $18 and will last me four days. Milk, cereal, and sundry items like eggs and beans that I know how to cook.
Oh yeah, before I left the office I mentioned to Hanazaki-san that I had lost some weight since arriving. I was 80-kilograms when I left Toronto on July 28, down to 78 kg on August 10 and again down to 74kg on August 17.  (176 lbs-171.6lbs-162.9lb2). While I think it's great, the OBOE are aghast.
After shopping and going home, I head back to the office. I walk through the front door and notice people are still trying to take up decorations for the party. I look away - and head up to the second floor via elevator of the three floor building. It was a week later that I discovered an outside spiral staircase that leads directly into MY office area.
At 5PM, I'm led to an OBOE meeting hall for the reception. I meet Tomura-sensei for the first time - he'll be my interpreter. His English skills are superb. I go over my speech with him to make sure there aren't any surprises.
At the reception on stage, I'm introduced, and here Tomura-sensei translated for me the words sportsman, musician, always smiling and making jokes. I almost blush.
Next Masayoshi Arai, the deputy mayor of Ohtawara makes a speech - apparently it's similar to the first as Tomura sensei translates into English: "It's the same as the first speech", I laugh, but I appreciate it.
Lastly, Izumi Fukasawa, the OBOE superintendent tells me how handsome and nice I am. I guess the bottle of booze (Canadian Club!) I brought from Toronto for him worked wonders.
I receive a large bouquet of flowers from the bespectacled 40-ish Mrs. Akutsu-san (always nice and smiling, too), and then it's time for me to give my speech.
I expected Tomoura-sensei to be standing next to me, but no, they moved him well off to the side so as to give me the entire stage. Unfortunately, he was so far away that he couldn't hear me well enough to translate as well as we'd practiced. It was already a speech Jimmy Stewart would have been proud off (see Mr. Smith Goes to Washington... really... go rent it or buy it), but it was made even longer by Tomura begging me to go slower or asking me to repeat things.
It's all cool. To me it's the perfect revenge for what they made us gaijin go through during our initiation at the Keio Plaza Hotel in Tokyo when we listened to a speech by Phil A. Buster (see the Jimmy Stewart movie).
Anyhow, I thought they'd laugh when I mentioned my dramatic weight loss since arriving here, but it didn't get the laughs I expected - maybe the joke was lost in translation or they though I was sick or something. I also joked about not knowing how to cook (that's why I was losing weight!) or how to do laundry. Again, no laugh. Tough crowd. But they said they liked that I was always making jokes!
When it was over, they made an opening toast, people kept topping off my beer every time I took a sip, so I have no idea how much alcohol I actually consumed. The guests whom I talk to, are all my English teachers, and they are all very, very nice. The only lady I'd consider exceptional was newly married, so I think I may have to stick with Ashley. Besides, she's gorgeous and things are going stupidly well.
The party that began at 5:30AM on the dot, ended two hours later at 7:30AM on the dot. It was mentioned in Toronto that the Japanese were  punctual, but this is ridiculous.
Because I had to talk to everyone (wanted to to talk to everyone), I didn't get to eat much, and my growling stomach tells Hanazaki-san as much. He quickly orders Mr. Iso and Akutsu-san to get me bento boxes of the banquet's leftovers to take home. Hanazaki-san he powered chugged several bottles of beer down (it's free, and I would do the same if I wasn't busy eating now).
Home stretch now.
I discover it's going to be impossible for me to carry all of the food and a few ginormous bottle of Kirin biru (Kirin beer), the huge flower bouquet while trying to ride a basketless bicycle in a three-piece suit in some humid 30C+ (40+ with the humidity and 50+ with the suit on).
Iso-san places my bike in his white car's trunk and drives me home, helps carry stuff up with me, comes in to place things in the kitchen, sucks a tonne of air between his teeth when he notices I didn't take my outdoor shoes off and replace them with the floppy indoor slippers, bows and leaves.
I call Ashely at 7:50PM, but she's not in, so I try Matthew and get some Japanese man twice. I eat a couple of tiny lobsters (crawfish) (ommigawd it's tasty) and try calling Ashley because I'm in love with the fact that I lost my virginity with her the night before.
We talk for three hours, hanging up at 11:30PM - I ask her to come by tomorrow for a spaghetti dinner.

Somewhere eating the first good meal I've had in a week - tiny lobsters!
Andrew Joseph
Today's title is by the Spencer Davis Group (and so is tomorrow's) - SO GLAD WE MADE IT.
PS - I know I wrote about this day before in an early blog, but I was going on 20-year-old memory. This time, well, let's just say I found the 1990 National Geographic calendar with jotted daily notes plus the pages of fully-scripted diary entries of July 29 - October 18 that I thought was lost.
PPS - The next couple of month's diary entries have pretty detailed descriptions of life including my sexual exploits. Innuendo will have to suffice because I may be a jerk, but I ain't no pig. Anyhow, just trust me that you'll read about cooking, Ohtawara's schools and go on a drive with me all over this beautiful city of Ohtawara.
PPPS - I'm only going to do detailed entries like this one if I think you might use it to learn more about Japan. Hey, you learned about parties (enkai) that last to the wee hours of the evening; how one never knows how much one drinks; presents are an excellent form of bribery; white cars; the fact that pretty much everyone in the audience except the deputy mayor, my superintendent and the OBOE office (less Hanazaki-san) all understood my speech without translation because they are all superb English teachers! You also learned the importance of indoor footware; the timing of jokes; that I'm in love/lust with Ashley; and my office cared enough to have a bicycle shop cobble together parts to make an 18-speed built for a giant Nihonjin (Japanese person) or one normal-sized gaijin (moi). You also learned about the weather and punctuality.
Come back tomorrow for another installment, and don't be late.
PPPS - Photo is of the City of Ohtawara office.

Unbelievable

Thursday, November 15, 1990

I'm up at 6:30AM. It seems like it's going to be one of those days. At 7:15, I notice one of my goldfish swimming outside my tank. He's lucky and I toss him back in. Stupid suicidal fish. I've had fish since I was 4, and don't ever recall a goldfish jumping out of the aquarium.

Next, after having a shower, I'm unable to turn off the hot water heater. After struggling for 10 minutes, it turns off.

Tomura-sensei of Wakakusa Junior High School comes by at 7:30 after I shovel in two spoonfuls of corn flakes. I go to school hungry.

Perhaps I should have just stayed in bed. I'm still grouchy over last night. I keep mulling over my question to Ashley two nights ago: "Do you trust me?" "Yes," she said. I'm not so sure, though. Last night I said to her that I was in love with her. She never said it back. It hurt. A lot. I'm pretty sure I don't want a relationship with someone incapable of loving me. Something to dwell on, to be sure.

Classes at Wakakusa go smoothly with Mrs. Onuma - what a cutie! The last class of the day is a team-teaching demonstration between us in front of eight teachers - all from Wakakusa but from different class subjects. It goes well.

At 4:30, I'm driven home by Tomura-sensei - he tells me the students aren't allowed to leave school while there is still some light out. We discussed the major differences between Western and Japanese schools - maybe I should make a document (Or at least tell you in this blog what those differences are!)

I go home and read a letter from Kristine. I like her innuendos, which is too obvious a joke for me to do about breasts. Anyhow, unless I'm reading the letter wrong, she's more or less suggesting I visit her because she's 10 minutes from Kyoto, a city famous for its 400 year old temples. I'm pretty sure that the temples aren't going to be my primary reason to visit. Something to really think about. The innuendo! The innuendo!

I go to Iseya department/grocery store (after first seeing if Matthew is home - he's not), and purchase food. Again. I also pick up a copy of a picture and some dry cleaning. The clothes smell good.

I sit in my messy apartment listening to the metal-rap take my brother Ben sent me. Red Hot Chili Peppers and EMF. Me like. It's all new to me.

As I'm eating, Matthew comes over. we watch the TV video tapes Ben sent over - there's a lot of Tiny Toons, which is sugary but watchable. There's also Cheers, Simpsons, In Living Color, Kids In The Hall (I didn't realize it at the time, but Dave Foley and I were in Grade 9 together, and were friends).

Matthew leaves at 8:30, I do a serious clean-up of the place and do some laundry. I talk to Tim Mould. Like myself, Tim has been asked to speak at an AET conference in Saitama prefecture (essentially next door to Tochigi-ken). Because I tend to get lost when I travel in this stupid country, I ask if I can travel with him as we leave a day earlier than the non-speaking AETs (Assistant English Teachers) like Matthew and Ashley.

I'm supposed to speak about Team-Teaching at this Nov. 27-30 conference. I don't team-teach. I either give self-introductions or pretend I'm a tape recorder and have students repeat after me. This speech is going to be a killer. I only did it because Catherine (Gasoline) called me up and asked me to.

You know what's even more weird? On the evening that Catherine called me to ask if I'd do her ... a huge favor, the next morning my OBOE (Ohtawara Board of Education) office apparently knew all about it.
My apartment is finally clean. My mind... it's confused and very tired, and I hit the hay early at 11:30.

Despite the crappy beginning, the day was good. Actually... things seem to have worked out... now can I keep it going? Can I go and visit Kristine while keeping Ashley ignorant of that fact? Maybe I need to break up with her for a weekend or more. Again. It worked once before. (Okay... the next blog will reveal woman #2 and a trip to Osaka).

Somewhere, it seems unbelievable that my apartment is cleaner than my thoughts,
Andrew Joseph

Today's title from EMF

You've Made Me So Very Happy

An interlude from the daily diatribe.

Let's talk about sex baby, or rather protection from sex. Like the Who sang, "I'm t-t-t-talkin' 'bout my c-c-c-contraceptive". Sorry, my keyboard is sticky.

Not sure what the kiddies do nowadays, but I can only hope that when ready to get down and jungle boogie with a significant or non-significant other, that proper precautions are still taken. For you, oh gentile reader, here's something I pulled out for you - HERE. While I'm sure that was amusing for those of you who are still reading, today's topic is about condoms. What the heck did you think that was in the photo to the left? Blown glass? ... No... some jokes are too easy. See below.

As mentioned, prior to arriving in Japan, I had never been with a woman in that, you know, way. And I'd never had sex with a woman before, either, though I did have a lot of practice. Those of you who are able to, may ask me to flex my right forearm - it is incredibly muscular, probably from all those years of playing the accordian. Geez, I seem to have a lack of blood flowing to my brain while I write this with one hand. I hurt the other one playing pool. Chalk up another bizarre accident for Andrew.

Anyhow, in the hopes of finally scoring in Japan, I brought with me three boxes of condoms figuring it would last me the one year I was then planning on staying. However, after finding a girlfriend - Ashley - sleeping with another Japanese girl in Osaka while Ashley and I had broken up for a week (ahhh, you didn't hear that story yet), and a lack of proper coordination in applying said condom to the anatomy resulting in a few unusable prophylactics, the box was becoming empty, so to speak.

Thank goodness dear old mom sent me five more boxes, probably silently praying it would keep her from becoming a grandmother anytime soon. I know... my mom sent me condoms. Although since passed on, my mom, Lynda Hyacinth Joseph was very cool. I'm unsure I could ever do wrong in her eyes, though she'd probably be rolling them at some of the lame-o jokes in this here blog.

So, why would I have to have condoms sent over from Toronto to help sate my urges? Actually, the condoms did nothing to sate my urges... but was merely a means to an end. Huh? Come again? Probably. Y'see, there's a size difference between Japanese men and North American men, even though this Canadian was born in England and is of India-n heritage. That's the dot, not the feather. I'm Canadian now and reaping all the glory that comes with it.

I once read in a Penthouse magazine that the average U.S. man is endowed with between five to seven inches, while the average Canadian had between six and eight inches. Let's just say I'm proud to be an average Canadian. My wife isn't readying this, is she? Didn't think so. Anyhow, the proof, as they say, is in the pudding. Check out the photo above of the two condoms I blew up in three breaths apiece and tied up and placed onto my green velour winter jacket. I didn't realize that there was some spermacide on the damn things, and added an oily stain to the coat, which I hid in this photo. As for the size difference in the balloons, well the difference in condom size may not seem like that great a difference to you, but it was to me. Let me explain by going back in time two weeks before that special delivery from my mom.

Realizing that I was running out of rubbers, I thought maybe I could buy some from a local pharmacy, though someone told me--might have been Matthew, might not have been Matthew--that Japanese contraceptives were smaller than our Western ones. I didn't care about that... I just figured a pharmacy would have condoms - Western ones, too.

Mr. Maniwa, who owned a popular pharmacy in downtown Ohtawara was whom I visited to purchase said contraceptives. Maniwa-san was a member of the Ohtawara International Friendship Association. He was also a bit of a tippler, a leech who once squeezed Ashley's bum and tried to grab her breast, but was still very kind and generous to a fault to Matthew and myself. He was also a very funny man with a wacky Three Stooges sense of humour - minus the monkey wrench of course.

So... I went up to him and asked him in English if he had any Western-sized condoms. Maniwa-san understood English quite well, and spoke it like he was drunk (which was a possibility). He told me that he didn't have any "Western" condoms, but suggested I try a Japanese condom "ribbed for her pleasure". I figured I could invert it so that it would be ribbed for my pleasure. Why should Ashley or whomever have all the fun? Just kidding, they were plain condoms - i just wanted to do the joke. So I bought a box of 10 Japanese condoms, took them home and waited until Ashley came over. That was three days later, but it did afford me time to practice.

So... raging with lust and armed with a Japanese condom and standing in the kitchen of my apartment, I attempted to place the condom onto myself. No bragging here (at this time), but it was a very tight fit... so much so that I could only unroll it past the head before a twitch sent it flying directly at Ashley's face hitting her smack in the nose. I'm talking about the condom hitting her, okay? Well worth the 3,500 yen (US$35) for the five minute laugh it afforded Ashley and myself, but we were now left unprotected. Thus ended the ball game. Sort of. This isn't porn people. I'm trying to turn a phrase.

So... this is the third paragraph in a row I've begun like this... it's why I called my mom and asked for some help. I also went back to Maniwa-san and told him that the condoms he had sold me were too small, and related the story back to him. Sorry Ashley, I told the lecherous old man about you getting a shot in the nose. Ooops... I did it again. Anyhow, he didn't believe the size of my tale, but still offered me a full refund. I told him to forget it - we're friends - just don't tell anyone about the condom shot heard round the world.

Friendship aside, he didn't believe me. It's why after the package from my mother arrived, I took the photos. See below for the close-up. I'm unsure what that orange junk is on the junk protector - but my Japanese photos did go thru a fire a couple of years ago (real time). Could it be hair dye?

Two more stories... when I went to Iseya to pick up my film, the cute early 20's slender girl with red dye in her hair to indicate she was rebellious and who works there did one of those whistles where you put a couple of fingers in your mouth. Anyhow, that whistle brought five other pretty young 20-something slender girls with red dye in their hair to indicate they are rebellious running over to the photo counter as I arrived simultaneously. The six of them smiled at me in unison (which was a very sexy trick), while the one actual photo counter girl found my envelope of photos. Now, as per Japanese custom, they open up the photos and pull out a photo for you so that you can ensure that it is indeed your set of photographs.

Not missing a beat, she rifled through the deck of 36 photos and pulled out the photo of the two condoms and then looked up at me. I smiled, said 'hai' (yes), she handed the photos to me and said "big-gu, big-gu" and then they all giggled behind hand-covered mouths. I should have taken names and numbers, but I had a feeling they knew where I lived.

In a similar vein, I've had Japanese junior high school boys point to their crotch (wearing pants, okay) and say in English: "smal-lu, smal-lu" then point to me and mine and ask: "An-do-ryu big-gu?" I nod in the affirmative and friendly backslapping ensues, as I now have become cool enough to answer such a stupid question. Hell, I'm a guy... of course I answered their question. We're all egomaniacs who believe that six inches looks a helluva lot like nine inches.

Somewhere, a Sheik(h) and a Trojan walk into a bar...
Andrew Joseph
I wonder what happened to that coat? Oh yeah... the stain.
Today's title brought to you by Blood, Sweat and Tears... which sounds alot like how I lost my virginity. Just kidding.

Crying

I thought about skipping these daily glimpses into my life to get back to the wacky writing I did describing Japanese culture versus myself - and I will - but indulge me a bit longer so that you can get a better feel for the day-to-day existence of life in Japan for a gaijin. Some of this crapola is eye-opening to me now.

Tuesday, November 13, 1990.

I'm up at 6:30AM and get ready to go to Wakakusa Junior High School. Tomura-sensei, if you will recall, is the Christian gent who had me over to his house a few weeks earlier - see HERE. He's a great guy and an excellent English speaker, and I swear that every time see him I immediately think of George Takei of Mister Sulu fame. He picks me up at 7:30 and we have a pleasant drive to school in his white car.

Before classes start, I think I have all the katakana alphabets memorized. I'm sure Matthew had them memorized two days after arriving--but then one of us was busy getting biz-zay, if ya know what I mean.

I teach two classes  - one with Mrs. Onuma and one with Tomoura-sensei discussing the cultural differences between Canada and Japan (which is what this blog is all about. d'uh). The students mention that they all want o come to school in Canada. 

I ate lunch with the teachers - finally I get to sit at the grown-up table; after I memorize nine new kanji (the Chinese style letters) taught to me by the two English teachers who take the time to show me the correct order to draw the Kanji. Thanks.

In the afternoon, Onuma-sensi and I play a Q&A game with the students, and we all have a lot of fun as it gets quite silly--to me it's important that the students have fun... it's a foreign language and it can be a difficult subject... making it fun will make it less of a bother to want to learn.

Tomura-san drops me off at home at 4:30 - early, because of a teacher's meeting. I go to Iseya and pick up my film, buy some food, go home and begin making some chili.

Matthew arrives at 5:30, Ashley 10 minutes later. Matthew presents me with my belated birthday gift - a Gameboy!!! Dammit, that was a lot of money and very thoughtful of the boy. It broke my heart to tell him that I bought one for myself a week previous. He told me he bought it last week for me while he was in Tokyo. Aaargh. At least it's not a complete waste, as I insist he keep it for himself.

Tim Mould from Kuroiso arrives at 6:45 and immediately hook him on Max Headroom and Star Trek: The Next Generation. We relax, eat dinner, eat popcorn and cookies (the latter two courtesy of Matthew's girlfriend, Takako - please let me be right about this!). Ashley and I finally make up as we sit under the kotatsu (blanket covered heater/table) with our legs pressed up against each other, and holding hands. Because we're under the kotatsu's quilt, Matthew and Tim fail to get the message to split and stick around til 10PM. We make up some more before leaving on our bikes for her place at 11:30. We ride out, kiss and I leave.

Prior to that at my place, Ashley told me that she had been very sad the entire weekend. So... I guess she did notice how angry I was at her (Believe me folks, I left out the real nasty stuff I wrote in my diary - call it 20-year-too-late wisdom). She knew I was angry because of this past Saturday and my "date" with Takako's sister Kaoru Kurita. She said she didn't eat anything on Sunday or Monday and cried herself to sleep the last three nights. Hunh.Did I really have that much of an effect on her? Is she in love with me? I am with her but dare not say so. I did once before - a month ago - but she stated to my face that she was not in love with me.

I don't know what to think or do.

Somewhere playing with a Gameboy,
Andrew Joseph
Lyrical title by Roy Orbison

Hey, Hey We're The Gaijin

The following should be sung to the tune of "Hey, Hey We're The Monkey's" after you've had a few beers. It doesn't actually make the shoddy writing better, but at least you'll have a beer. As a reminder, the Japanese term "gaijin" literally means outsider, but is generally recognized as "foreigner". Gaikokujin, I believe, means foreign person.

"Here we come.
Walking down the street.
Get the funniest looks from
Everyone we meet.


(refrain) Hey, hey we're the Gaijin.
People point and stare 'round the town.
But we're too busy teaching
To put anybody down.


Just trying to be friendly.
Wantta sing, dance drink and smoke.
We're from a foreign nation.
That they pay us to speak is a joke.


Hey, hey we're the Gaijin.
You never know where we'll be found.
So you better get ready,
We're gonna live in your town."
(and fade out).

Okay. Stop singing now. No matter how dull and boring a person you are--don't worry, the Japanese probably think you are fascinating and exciting. It's almost an obsession, but like a horrible car accident, they can't look away when they see you. It's why they know everything about you and what you do. Little brother is watching.
Remember how you once went shopping wearing a shirt with a small rip in it? Well, everybody noticed. They may not have said a word to you, but they noticed and told all of their friends. Didn't you wonder why there were four new shirts stuffed into your mailbox? Creepy? Yes. But really, it's not a bad type of attention.
There is no such thing as an anonymous foreigner in Japan--especially for those of us who live in a small city, like Ohtawara. Fifty thousand very curious folk.
It's why I can say with great conviction that I am a G.O.D. That's right--a Gaijin On Display.
No matter what I do in my city, someone besides myself is taking notes.
The populace is not only used to seeing me fly down the street on my overly large bicycle, but they also see me crying helplessly in front of the ATM trying to decode the miserable Kanji (an alphabet officially consisting of 1,942 Chinese symbols) buttons on the machine.
Before becoming a G.O.D.--back when I was just your run-of-the-mill gaijin--people used to point, stare and shout "Gaijin". But, since achieving G.O.D.-hood, now they point, stare and say "Gaijin-san". Yes, they call me mister.
It's a subtle difference to be sure, but I think it's because they realize I'm not just visiting their city, I've becoming a part of the community.
I may not have mentioned it yet, but I love Ohtawara.
As a known entity, you can pretty much kiss your privacy goodbye--especially if you are going to hang out with me. That's what happened to Ashley.
In my circle of Japanese cohorts, Ashley was known as An-do-ryu's girlfriend. In her circle of cohorts, she was also known as Andrew's girlfriend, but she continually tried to downplay it to the natives by insisting that she had no boyfriend. She said she didn't want people to think we were sleeping together. They knew.
She had no idea that her bosses were talking to my bosses, and knew the real deal about our relationship. It was important that they knew the truth.
I asked Hanazaki-san if he had an opinion as to why the people of Ohtawara were so curious about my life in the city. He told me it was because I was a part of their community and they wanted to ensure that everything was all right for me. He also mentioned that at 25-years-of-age (it's still early September of 1990--and my birthday is two months away), I was at the perfect marrying age. It's why they wanted to know my dating situation, and why I was being observed. If I was single, they needed to know if I was good husband material. Really, I love this place.
Conversely, if Ashley was single, they would want to try and set her up.
Matthew? He was an enigma to me then (I'd only known him for a month!), and may have been an enigma to a fair chunk of the populace of Ohtawara, as well. I'm pretty sure he was already out chasing Japanese women, so he may not have been an enigma to them. I don't know how a 6'-3" strawberry-blond American can blend in and become invisible, but I think he did alright--in more ways than one.
I think that for the Japanese it was cool to: talk to, be friends with, or date a foreigner.
Ashley, if you will recall, taught mainly at the Ohtawara Boys High School, but also taught at the girls high school. I know that I had volunteered to do so, too, but the OBOE was too smart to fall for that one.
It's probably why I constantly had high school girls (and older) come up to me and shyly introduce themselves in English. They've been told by Ashley that she has no boyfriend, but Andrew in his self-introductions has said he does. Is the Intel. wrong? Could Andrew's information not be up-to-date? Better to be safe than sorry, the girls would press phone numbers into my sweaty hand.
Why doesn't this kind of stuff ever happen back in Canada?
Anyhow, for some reason (guilt) I never acted on any of these phone numbers.
To a nerd like myself, suddenly becoming popular--with women, men, dogs--is ego-blowing. But I wonder... would the Japanese still be enamored and impressed if they found out that I accidentally mailed my bankbook?
Somewhere G.O.D. has new shirts.
Andrew "Monkey-boy" Joseph
PS: The Photo above is from an AET retreat a year later in 1991: If you click on the photo to make it larger and look closely at the TV screen, you can see that we are singing Country Roads. (From left) The funny CIR (Coordinator of International Relations) whose name I can't recall but won't be appearing in this blog, Me, Jeff Seaman, Matthew Hall, Tim Mould. Matthew is wearing very nice socks.
PPS: I parodied the title from a song by The Monkees.

Twist And Shout

Welcome to Day 4 in Ohtawara (one weak in Japan. Yes, the spelling is intentional).
It’s early in August 1990 for those of you ensuring my continuity remains intact.

Like August in Toronto, August in Ohtawara is hot and humid. It was about 34C not including the humidity, and considering my part of the world was considered sub-tropical, I was moist. My apartment lacked air-conditioning, but at least when I opened up the windows and doors I was able to let even more hot, wet air in.
Still, because of the newness of the situation: new country, new friends, my first ever apartment, I wasn’t going to complain. Everything was beautiful.
Heck, even though my 24-inch television only got 12 channels (that’s all there were – remember, this is pretty much before satellite TV and before Bob Dole invented the Internet!), three of the stations played American shows every once in a while: like the aforementioned Incredible Hulk, The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes and Dynasty. What was particularly cool was that these stations broadcast their signals with a bilingual feed/cut, meaning if you had a bilingual television, you could hit a button and either watch it in English, Japanese or a mish-mash of both.
I had a bilingual television. I also had a built-in VTR (video tape recorder that we used to call a video cassette recorder). I didn’t have anything to watch, however.
Aside from Holmes, I pretty much watched Japanese television – especially the cartoons. I figured if a young Japanese child can understand it, I might be able to. I also like cartoons.
As for food – ah, what’s a guy to do? Because this was my first time away from home – ever – I really had no clue how to cook. Or even how to shop for food. Add to that the fact that I didn’t really know where to shop and I had problem.
Luckily my fridge was pre-filled with foods my Japanese bosses thought the average Canadian might like: daikon radishes, Japanese pears, pineapple, artichoke (it might’ve choked Artie, but it ain’t gonna choke Andrew, and some canned beverages called Pocari Sweat, and Calpis. What the heck is that? For the uninitiated, I personally have kept six Coca-Cola bottling plants in operation thanks to my consumption and subsequent elevated blood-sugar levels (Coke Zero for me, now).
I swear, these guys must be watching me - like I’m part of some television show – but the doorbell rang. There was Hanazaki-san offering to take me out to the local grocery/department store.
He drove me out to a place called Iseya (e-say-ya), about two minutes from my place – it was large and was set up the way most Walmart’s are nowadays… a full grocery store combined with a department store – including a kiosk where I could get film developed (anyone else remember film for camera’s? It’s why I have to scan my thousands of photos first before putting them online!)
Iseya had all of the food types I needed. Bread, luncheon meats, mayo, hamburger, veggies, cup of soups, fruits, milk, juice and gawd-help me, Coke. All of which I bought and paid for myself with the remnants of money I brought with me from Toronto. Despite having been set up with a bank account, I don’t think I was paid yet for only four days of being in Ohtawara – or maybe I was? No one told me.
I tried to take food items that required very little cooking skill, as I had never actually cooked anything before and had little desire to know how quick the fire department could respond.
Satisfied with my purchase, and making Hanazaki-san proud of my purchase of the daikon radish and the Japanese pears, he dropped me off home convinced I might actually survive my time here.
I bought the Calpis, but not the Pocari Sweat, as that was still in my fridge daring me to crack it open. I’m not sure I want to drink sweat – who’s sweat was it? Besides, the humidity was providing me with enough sweat of my own, thank-you.
Realizing that I came to Japan to try new things – and not because I was trying (still) to get laid – I tried the Calpis. Cow-piss is more like it. Ugh. It’s a milky-watery beverage that tastes like bad yogurt, and is full of lactose – or so I learned much to my lactose-intolerant regret.
Twenty minutes later, I was in my library/washroom with my intestinal tract twisting and screaming.
I feared my insides were ripping apart, as the pain was so intense that it felt like the walls to my bathroom were shaking. While my stomach suddenly stopped spasm-ing, I noticed that the walls continued to shake.
I could hear things falling from their perch in my kitchen and living room. I could hear the pipes groaning.
It was an earthquake! My first ever!
And here I was, in the bathroom. It’s strange the thoughts that enter one’s head when you think you are going to die, but I immediately thought about how embarrassed my folks would be when they heard of this indignity.
He died with his pants down around his ankles – but at least he didn’t soil himself.
It was over in about 30 seconds. I sat there for another minute afraid to move.
When I finally did move, I opened up the bathroom door and peeked out. It looked the same. I got up went to the living room and picked up the few items that had fallen during the quake and walked outside onto my balcony to see if my neighbourhood was okay.
People were out of their homes and were laughing and slapping each other on the back and having a smoke. No one showed any sign of panic.
Why were they so calm? Does this happen often? Mom? Dad? Get me the hell out of here!

Somewhere squeezing the Charmin,
Andrew Sensurround Joseph
Musical title by The Isley Brothers (not The Beatles, who also did a fantastic version of the Isley's Bros. hit).