Whole Lotta Love

It's part two of July 4, 1991.
My ex-sexual partner Junko was stalking me until Shibata-sensei at Ohtawara Chu Gakko (Ohtawara Junior High School) in Ohtawara-shi (Ohtawara City), Tochigi-ken (Tochigi Prefecture), Japan found out and asked me if I wanted it stopped.
Agreeing, he made a phone called and then told me "It's done" before walking away to finish his cigarette.
I leave school and ride my bicycle home and feel as though I'm being followed by a white car—not a stretch considering most of Japan's cars seem to be white. But Junko, being female, I'm guessing doesn't have a white car. She would have one of those miniature pastel coloured cars manufactured by a car company so small I've never heard of it... but it was still quite popular in creating cars specifically for women.
I don't see Junko following me, but she's pretty darn good at it, so who knows. I would assume that any plan concocted by Shibata-sensei is still going to take a little while to begin.
Regardless... I ride home to my three-bedroom apartment and see Ashley sitting on the front steps waiting for me.
 I don't tell her about Junko because while Ashley and I are no longer a couple, I still want to figure out a way to get sex. I've spent the past couple of weeks slowly breaking down the wall she put up between us to ensure we didn't get back together again - because she really needs her space.
Yeah.
That's why she's waiting for me at my apartment. That's why she agreed to come over for dinner tonight. She needs space.
Soon.
We chat a bit while we sit on my couch. I can feel her leg on mine - and she doesn't pull away.
There's heat.
We cook up a pot of my famous/infamous chili and watch another episode of Designing Women on my Video Tape Recorder.
At 7PM, she gets ready to leave. I call her back, grab her hand, put my arm around her waist - there's no resistance. I'm sure France was easier to take over in WWII than this. Sorry France.
But not tonight.
Still... I tell her I'm not ashamed of her–she seemed to think I was, even believing that Matthew didn't like her. And while I never asked Matthew about that - he never said anything like that to me or ever gave that impression to me.
She smiles and says 'thanks.'
I tell her she doesn't have to leave, but she turns to go anyway... so I grab her again in a hug and kiss her hairy head and then give her a coy wink with a smirk on my face that would get me laid in the best whore houses in France for 200 Euros. Sorry again, France.
She turns and smiles a good bye as she leaves.
Well... that was easy. I sure hope Junko isn't waiting outside my apartment to kill Ashley.
I head out to night school to teach - there's a large crowd. There's even another gaijin (foreigner) there... Sarah, a heavy Italian girl from Hawaii who leads the discussion. That's fine. It's English conversation, and tonight I'm content to listen and chime in with the usually sexual innuendo. She's staring at me. Normally I wouldn't mind, but she does seem to outweigh me by some 20 kilograms, and these days I've hardly been starved of sex thanks to Junko, and probably Ashley again, very soon. So... I'm not biting.
I think the level of talk is too high for the group, as we chat about unions and the mob. Great. Leave it to the Italians to bring up the mob. Sorry France... I mean Italy. I just somehow expected it to be France's fault.
I go home and as I take off my shoes the door bell rings. It's Junko... but before I can open the door to let her in, I see two men behind her lurking in the shadows. One of them calls to her - she turns and runs down the stairs near my apartment and (after I run to the front balcony I see that:) she's trying to get into a car... it's red. See... I knew she wouldn't have anything but a chick car!
Anyhow... there's another man standing beside the driver's door - and he's not letting her in. He's not grabbing her or anything - he's just leaning against the car door casually smoking a cigarette.
I don't recognize any of the men.
I shout down at them to leave her alone... but the smoker yells up: "Daijobu, An-do-ryu-sensei." (It's okay Andrew teacher)... and then in English says loudly: "Junko-chan... you masto leavu An-do-ryu-sensei alone. Iki masho. (Let's Go!) We willu taku you baku to your maza's house."
I think he said he would take her back to her mother's house. Even I can't understand what I wrote.
And with that, Junko-chan seemed to slump with resignation and followed the men to their car, while another got into her red woman's car and followed close behind.
I went back into my apartment and closed the sliding doors to the balcony and drew shut the drapes and went to my fridge to get a Coke.
The phone rang... I picked it up reluctantly on the 36th ring... that's how you know it's a Japanese person on the other end... they ring more than seven times without hanging up. Or it could be Matthew.... and I swear he was becoming more Japanese everyday.
Regardless... it was Shibata-sensei, but he never said his name. I'm the one saying the Japanese words... Hmmm... maybe I'm turning Japanese? Probably. I think I repeatedly bowed to the phone while I was talking.
"An-do-ryu-sensei?"
"Hai (yes.)"
"It's done."
"I thought you said it was done before?"
"It's done now. Good night."
"Oyasuminasai (Good night)."
I hung up, turned on the television and had a long swig of Coke.
I never saw Junko again. I'm unsure if she saw me again.
By the way... if I had seen what Junko was wearing - or rather NOT wearing this evening, I would have taken on those three guys myself to stop them from having her stalk me. Any girl who dresses like that can stalk me any day.
Somewhere wondering what I have done,
Andrew Joseph
Today's blog title is by Led Zeppelin: BACKTOSCHOOLIN'
PS: Just to let me know that there are other women in the world, along with see Ashley, and being hit on by Sarah, today I received in the mail a package from Kristine in Shiga-ken, a letter from a very beautiful adult student of mine who moved away to Ibaraki-ken - Yumiko Ebe, and a letter from Juanita back in Toronto.  Yet... I'm still by myself again, and despite opinions to the contrary, I don't take any satisfaction from that.
PPS: I love France. In fact... earlier this evening, I saw England. I saw France. I saw Junko's underpants.
I know... what's the big deal when I've already seen her naked so many times - but she sure looked sexy!  I miss her her sexy knock on my door... and that sexy way she rings my doorbell. Yes... you just put your finger on the button and press... but she had a way of making it look... sexy. I'm done. I'm going to bed now.

Dirty Deeds

It's Thursday, July 4, 1991 - Happy birthday USA! Ashley is coming over tonight, so maybe she can blow out the birthday candle.
Still... I have to get rid of Junko first. She spent the night  - again - and man am I tired.
This time when we get up at 6:30AM, I manage to have a shower by myself and get dressed with out her attacking me for more sex. She doesn't look tired, so I assume she's sleeping during the day when she knows I am teaching at school.
Since she has so-far taken a weeks 'vacation' from university to stalk me, I'm assuming she's .parked somewhere outside my school - Ohtawara Chu Gakko (Ohtawara Junior High School) here in Ohtawara-shi (City of Ohtawara), Tochigi-ken (Tochigi Prefecture), Japan.
I kiss Junko good bye--which has her starting to unbuckle my belt--and push her out the door. I told her I am busy tonight - so maybe we could take a rest?
She stares at me for a few seconds, and while looking me straight in the eye says she will see me later.
No kidding. I have no idea what that really means, but I assume it's more stalking and another night without sleep. I have no idea how many days its been since I slept. I'm on automatic pilot.
As such, I suddenly wake up and I'm at school with no knowledge how I rode my bicycle there.
I think the school knows something is up, and rather than let me relax, gives me four classes to teach--one with Numanoi-sensei who doesn't understand the term 'wander'... which by the way is an anagram (mixed up letters) of my name. I nearly lose my temper over such a stupid thing.
When I play Word Scramble with Shibata-sensei's kids I give out Canadian dimes (10 cents) as prizes.
Hmmm... after giving out pennies yesterday and dimes today, I wonder if I can get reimbursed by the JET (Japan Exchange & Teaching) Programme for $0.68? 
During fourth period - the one period I have no class to teach - I pass out at my desk in the teacher's lounge. When I have wake up, I'm in a pool of my own drool. Sexy it is not.
After school, and after English Club, I talk with one 15-year-old for about 20 minutes. He's a Hanshin Tiger's baseball fan--too bad they are currently 20-1/2 games out of first. We also talk about - conversationally - women, sex and adult videos - and says he really likes me for being honest. I have always thought that if someone here in Japan can ask me a question in English - no mater how potentially embarrassing it might be - I will answer it.
When I'm about to leave, I shake hands with Shibata-sensei and notice he's too lazy to remove his cigarette from his grip and instead shakes with his left hand. He sees me glance out the teacher's lounge window and casually asks if I am looking for Junko.
I seem confused I'm sure - and asks me if I want Junko to continue following me around.
How the heck does he know this? So I ask him.
Apparently I talked in my sleep - and drooled. He was the only person in the room at that time and just my luck, the only person who could have understood the mumblings of a very tired native English speaker.
I don't know how to answer his question - but instead sit back down and tell him what's been going on.
Apparently everyone (teachers) here at school know of my relationship with Junko - they just didn't know about the stalking. As well... since she was only supposed to be interning for a week here at this school, people at her university became alarmed when she didn't show up for school when she was supposed to... so they contacted the Ohtawara Board of Education (OBOE) - my office, who then contacted Ohtawara Chi Gakko - who informed them that she might have fallen in love with me - as it was obvious from my exhausted demeanor and body scent that I was still seeing her.
She really did smell  - different. Whatever she was wearing as a body spray (aside from myself) was driving me mad with lust - clouding my judgement... okay, no it wasn't... but when I have a gorgeous babe taking off her clothes and ripping mine off, I don't think rationally owing to a lack of bloodflow to the brain.
He repeats again: "Do you want Junko to continue following you around?"
Thinking about how I have Ashley coming over tonight before I leave for a teaching class... I could use the sleep when I got home... or Junko....
Dammit!
Since I don't have a bloodflow problem right now - just severe exhaustion and dehydration, I quietly say: "No...  I've tried to break things off with her last week - but she's either crazy in love with me or just crazy."
He goes over to the telephone beside the principal at the front of the teacher's lounge, says something quickly to the principal, who looks at me and shrugs his shoulders, and then makes a phone call.
I swear it was not more than two sentences and 15 seconds, and then he hung up.
We walks over in his floppy indoor slippers, lights up another cigarette and blows it in my face, placing his right hand (with the cigarette) on my left shoulder and says: "It's done."
What's done?
"It's done. Go home. I'll see you in September when school starts again. Enjoy your trip to Thailand."
And with that he turned and shuffled off. Perhaps when I go to Thailand I'll buy him some decent slippers.

I'll continue this day 24 hours from now.

Somewhere 'it's done'?
Andrew Joseph

Today's blog title is by AC/DC: 362436.
PS: Now do you see how everybody knows what it is I'm doing and who I'm doing? It's not just Junko stalking me - it's all of Japan!

Obsession

It's Wednesday, July 2, 1991.
Junko remains my dirty little secret.
She spent the night. We don't sleep. She's either quit university or she's taken an unscheduled break to stalk me. Are you supposed to sleep with someone who stalks you?
Apparently you do if they look like Junko - I still haven't had time to take a photograph of her, as we tend to get right down to business as soon as she enters my apartment. I notice stuff like that.
Anyhow... here's are the particulars: She's 21 years-old, a Cancer (no kidding - a perfect match for me the Scorpio!), AB Negative blood like myself, 5'-4" and slender, but has curves in all the right places, and at about 110-pounds - even I can pick her up. She's a B-cup, but honestly, I've never cared about that. She's very smart, has a good sense of humour, is a sharp, stylish dresser without looking like a freak in a fashion show... in short, she's the type of woman any heterosexual guy is going to stop and eye-hump, and every woman is going to either admire or hate.
Me? I'm sure if anyone ever saw me with her they would be wondering if I'm hung like a pony or if I'm rich.
Since I'm neither - I'm not rich and I'm not poor - and like most people wish I had more - she must be into me for my semi-dazzling looks and fantastic sense of humour. I can often come across as being the John Holmes of wit.... which doesn't explain why all we do is have sex... but I do have a very large wit.
Hee-hee! Sometimes I can't believe my luck. Here's this gorgeous university student chasing after me. Her English is superb, and she's beautiful. I know, I said that... but it bears repeating.
She's just what I need after spending a frustrating night with Ashley. Frustrating because there was no sex involved with my ex-girlfriend.... which considering Junko seems to know where I am and with whom, it was probably a good thing that nothing happened between Ashley and myself last night.
Cripes! Can you imagine?! Junko probably would have swooped in and beat the crap out of her with a kendo stick (wooden Japanese fencing sword). She's like a ninja - always where you least expect her, ready to pounce. Except... Junko and I broke up because she was going back to school.
Of course... I broke up with Ashley, but that didn't seem to matter until she broke up with me three days later.
Do I dare wait until Junko breaks up with me? 

So... do I stick with someone who is a jealous sexual psychopath or try and get back with Ashley who only likes me as a friend right now? Or simply go it alone? There's always Kristine 500 kilometres away... but as much as I adore her, I'd rather not just have sex - I want a relationship!
Anyhow... the answer is obvious - the sexual psychopath. I really, really, really enjoy the sex. Okay, forget that part about my reasons for not seeing Kristine. I'm really pretty much a horn dog.
Convenience over sanity seems to be my mantra.

However... despite the fringe benefits of being with Junko in a very draining relationship, I do worry that this girl may be throwing away her entire life for me. Sex is fine, but we've not been out together further than the walls of my apartment here in Ohtawara-shi (City of Ohtawara), Tochigi-ken (Tochigi Prefecture), Japan.
Surely a woman this gorgeous, sexual and sexually-active has had other boyfriends? I wonder where she dumped the bodies?
Unless, I'm the only one she's ever been like this to? My ego says that's the case, but I have a bad habit of being rational (I know, I know), and realize this 'relationship' is going to be a problem.
For one thing, I don't sleep any more. That's going to affect my work, not to mention my ability to manufacture semen. Probably not, but the work thing is important.
While it's true my reason for life was to get laid - and Japan fulfilled that... but I've discovered there is more to life than that, and I'm afraid Junko is not going to let me experience anything outside of my apartment... although we are up to Page 47 of the Kama Sutra.
I need to figure out what to do. Eventually...
Junko dehydrates me. Which is both good and bad and leaves at 7:45AM.
I have 15 minutes to dress and get to Ohtawara Chu Gakko (Ohtawara Junior High School) by 8AM - a fortunate 10 minute bicycle ride away.
It seems that no matter how much cologne I put on, I still smell Junko. Combine that with my permanent-grin, people are going to know what I've up to.
It's chilly today, but there's never enough wind to blow away the smell of sex, is there?
I don't have many classes to teach - just two - and are both with Shibata-sensei - so the classes are fun. I do three crosswords in 30 minutes between classes. Even though I washed my face when I got to school - and twice more after that, I can still smell sex. Is it on my clothes? In my nose? Maybe.  
In class, after Shibata-sensei gives the students back their results, we play Word Scramble with these third year (grade 9) students. I provide Canadian pennies as presents. Cheap yes, but none have ever seen one before, so it's a 'cool' prize for them.
Shibata-sensei quietly smiles and pats me on the back as he says: "You smell very pretty. Anyone I know?" Then he bursts out laughing, mouthing the word "Junko". I nod in pride and embarrassment.
Not surprisingly, my neck and back are killing me. Damn Kama Sutra positions #43 through #47!I go to my back doctor and then await Kanemaru-san to pick me up and take me to the Ohtawara kyudo (archery) club. I shoot like a guy who's shot a lot - tired. Junko.
I'm wearing shorts and am bitten by a lot of mosquitoes - because I am bug bait. Insects love my tasty Coca-Cola filled blood.
On the plus side, Kanemaru-san just so happens to have some anti-itching medicine that while smelly, works. I wonder if he has an anti-Junko cream - but I don't ask or tell him about Junko.
At home, I talk with MariAnn for awhile - she's feeling better about life (thank goodness). I then talk with Jeanne - a fellow JET (Japan Exchange & Teaching) Program teacher like MariAnn and myself and find out about some Utsunomiya-shi (City of Utsunomiya party). She's a nice, but dry, French-Canadian who lives in the same low-level apartment block as Ashley. They are both private people, so my inquiries into Ashley's business reveal nothing new - just that she seems more withdrawn than usual - if that is possible.
That's the thing about Jeanne. You think she's dry and then she drops witty and wry observations like that.
I talk on the phone with them while watching some videos from back home in Toronto and eat burned popcorn (stupid microwave).
Matthew comes over at 10PM - because that's what he does... probably figures I'm depressed and likes to check up on me. It's appreciated.
I don't tell him about Junko either, because I'm embarrassed that I'm still chasing or pining after Ashley when I have this hot Japanese babe throwing herself at me.
We watch Blade Runner and he leaves around 12AM. As usual, he brings snacks and beer and Coca-Cola. He knows me.  
Thirty seconds after he leaves, my doorbell rings. You know who it is before I do, don't you? It's Junko.
I'm going to die from dehydration and lack of sleep.

Somewhere dying with a smile on my face,
Andrew Joseph
Today's title is by Animotion. I always loved this song for its really cool keyboards... but I never paid much attention to the lyrics until I wrote this blog. I think I am Junko's OBSESSION. I had never seen the video before!
PS:
Lyrics are below:
You are an obsession, I cannot sleep
I am a possession unopened at your feet
There is no balance, no equality
Be still I will not accept defeat

I will have you, yes I will have you
I will find a way and I will have you
Like a butterfly, a wild butterfly
I will collect you and capture you

(CHORUS)
You are an obsession, you're my obsession
Who do you want me to be to make you sleep with me
[repeat]

I feed you, I drink you by day and by night
I need you, I need you by sun or candlelight
You protest, you want to leave
You say there's no alternative

Your face appears again, I see the beauty there
But I see danger, stranger beware
A circumstance in your naked dreams
Your affection is not what it seems

(CHORUS)
My fantasy has turned to madness
All my goodness has turned to badness
My need to possess you has consumed my soul
My life is trembling, I have no control

I will have you, yes I will have you
I will find a way and I will have you
Like a butterfly, a wild butterfly
I will collect you and capture you

(CHORUS [repeat to fade])

Fire When Ready

Tanuki cup with hat lid.

While it's not my intention to offend... but if you are the type to go to Pottery Barn for all of your artistic pottery needs, chances are you would find the town of Mashiko-machi in Tochigi-ken, Japan a tad overwhelming.

I was lucky enough to accompany the Ohtawara Junior High School third-year (Grade 9's) students on a field trip back in 1990, weeks after arriving.

Because I was still getting acclimatized to a new country and a new language and customs, I really had no clue where I was going or why I was going or even why they were nice enough to want me there. But, as far as that last point, even after just a few months in Japan, it was already quite evident to me that the Japanese are very hospitable. And they always were to me.

Hanging out with Shibata-sensei (Shibata teacher), the hip, good-looking English teacher from the school, he explained to me in near perfect English just where we were going and what the place had to offer. 

Mashiko, along with Arita in Saga-ken, and the towns of Seto and Tokoname in Aichi-ken, are known as places where the finest pottery in Japan is produced.

Now I have to admit that I was not a big pottery fan. It was just plates and dishes and cups, and so what? But when you actually visit a place and see it being made... well, it changes one's perception quite dramatically. 

Made in Canada by yer author.

I had always known that skill was heavily involved. Take a look at the blue cup with the letter A on it that I made back in grade 7. As well, there's the small bowl I made for my mother back in grade 5. Not sure why there's nothing from grade 6... If I can do it - and granted I'm not saying what I did was great (it's not), then really anyone can do it. 

I was wrong.

Mashiko-machi (Mashiko town) first began producing pottery back in 710AD, but as an art form, the town was unable to sustain any success - perhaps because the main potter died? Anyhow... in the 1800's, Mashiko revived its pottery skills in order to supply Edo (the capital now named Tokyo) and its 1-million residents with all of their kitchenware.   

Now here's where it gets interesting again... just like with Japan's national anthem (read about it  - Kimiyago), a gaijin (foreigner) became involved.

In 1909, Bernard Leach from England met a potter named Shoji Hamada. Leach had come to learn etching techniques, but it was Hamada's pottery skills that greatly impressed him, and the two began to work together. After working with each other for four years in England, Hamada returned to Japan to live in Mashiko where he used the excellent clay in the area. 

With his glazing and shaping skills, he became a master potter - which is also great for a town's reputation as well. 

Nowadays, there are too many potters to count in Mashiko, some better than others, but all are a lot more skilled than I ever was as an 11-year-old (obviously). 

My two favourite o-cha (green tea) cups. Rough on Left, ugly/beauty on right.

With the school (and a plethora of other schools from other towns), we received instruction on how pottery is created. Shibata-sensei said that one can even take a crack (bad choice of words) at making their own.   

We toured around a few kilns and shops, and pretty much everybody bought something - me more than others, because, well, I wanted to fit in. Being broke, be damned.

We were ushered to the town's square where there was a giant  - I thought it was a raccoon, but Shibat-sensei told me that the 20-foot high critter was called a tanuki (see top photo). We looked it up in my dictionary and discovered it was a mix of raccoon and dog. What it was, however was a pot-bellied critter with his wang jutting out. 

A flat dish. Again - texture.

Like you (in future blogs), I was to learn the Japanese have a lot of images involving sexual body parts (male & female). And while there was much tittering (sorry!) from some the girls, the boys all kind of stood at attention (ahem!) and stared at the tanuki with reverent awe.   

While I wasn't smart enough (again) to bring my camera, I did purchase the tanuki cup. 

The photo at the very top shows of some of the more artsy pottery I purchased that day. And, while I may not know what's good or bad pottery (okay, the stuff I made was really bad), I do like what I bought there.

If you ever do get a chance to visit Japan and Tochigi-ken, I highly recommend you spend a few hours in Mashiko. Tell them I sent you. It won't mean a darn thing, but imagine the look on their face as they will politely try to remember who you are talking about.

A nicely textured vase.

Since I didn't do anything spectacular - like knock over the statue, or break all of the wares in a shop - I was just another shopper to them... and mind you you, not once that day did I hear the word gaijin. After all, they must be used to seeing us all after a hundred years.

Somewhere my clay is achin' over my lack of artistic skill,

Andrew Joseph

Today's blog title is brought to us by: Perfect Strangers: FIRE WHEN READY, in this case implies the firing of the pottery. The lyrics have nothing to do with anything I have to say today. It's also country rock. Lite.  

PS: clay is achin' is a poor pun relative to former American Idol television star, Clay Aikens. I said I had no artistic skill.

You Talk Too Much

Originally entitled: The Broken Language.


Herro. Afta rogingu foti monsu heah, I habu kumu to disuriku Katakana beri muchi.

Any idea what I just wrote? I said: Hello. After logging 14 months here, I have come to dislike Katakana very much.

Recently, I was given an eight-page list of everyday Katakana words. Katakana is an alphabet (one of three) used by the Japanese to describe words that are foreign to the country of Japan. Katakana is a phonetic sounding-out of foreign words by using this Japanese alphabet.

This list was written entirely in Katakana, so I had to decode it into recognizable Romanji (English letters). I was left with over 75 per cent of the words still unrecognizable. It lends credence to the old joke: Why is it that he is speaking English, but I don't understand him?"

I was confronted with such Katakana words as: Akado. Is it some sort of martial arts? No. It's an 'Arcade'; Obakoto is 'Overcoat'; Erebeta is 'Elevator'... and just when you think you've got it, they toss out words like Konkuri-to and se-ta. Take a moment and see if you can phonetically sound it out to see the English equivalent.

Give up? It's 'Concrete' and 'Sweater', respectively. Add a prefecture (provincial) accent, and you will no longer wonder why I don't understand the Japanese, and they don't understand me.

Iffu I donto speaku Engarishi wizu a Katakana acucento, I ammu notu andastoodu.
(If I don't speak English with a Katakana accent, I am not understood.)"

Nowhere is this more apparent that at the sebben (seven) junior high schools I entertain at. How can you teach someone proper English diction when they insist on transposing your English words into Katakana? You kan-to.

"Wa didu yu go yastudae, An-do-ryu?"
(Where did you go yesterday, Andrew?)

I replied: "I went to Mosburger." (I emphasized the 'went'. Oh, and Mosburger is a Japanese fast food burger chain that is almost as popular as McDonald's - yet some of my students believe it to be an American restaurant.)

Here is where we add the sound effects of crickets chirping and pencil cases dropping.... as no one understood what I had said.

"Okay, okay... I wento to Mosu-baga."

"Ah, so desu ne. (Ah, okay.)"

For your edification, no one in Japan has, since World War II, ever uttered the phrase "Ah so." It's an ugly American stereotype expression that only exists in television and movies. Yeesh.

I'm also going to lay a bit of blame on the Japanese food industry for helping perpetuate the Katakana crap. I had asked some students at Ohtawara Chu Gakko (Ohtawara Junior High School): "What do you want to eat?"
One answered, "Shichikon."
After making the student repeat the word four times, I had to ask the teacher, Shibata-sensei, just what the heck 'shichikon' was. He went through his Katakana dictionary and said that the word means... are you ready?... 'Sea Chicken."
What the heck is that? A dolphin that tastes like chicken? Then it hit me. No, not another car, but rather inspiration. Does anyone in North America know: "What's the best tuna?" "Chicken of the Sea." It's a tuna commercial slogan that I remembered from the 1970s! Sea Chicken = White Tuna. Here's a fairly recent commercial of that famous brand: HERE.
Red tuna meat is what the Japanese know to be real tuna. The white tuna meat that we North Americans associate with tuna is considered by the Japanese to be the 'garbage' meat of the fish. But... if the Americans like it...
Man-oh-man! Can you believe that several generations of Nihonjin (Japanese people) think that all white meat tuna is called 'sea chicken'?

Sumuwa goingu ku-re-zi,
An-do-ryu Jo-se-fu
Today's title is by George Thorogood & The Destroyers. SHHH.
PS: Check this OUT and remember I first wrote about this back in October of 1991 - which is re-presented here in this blog.

Brown Eyed Girl

It began with a poem...

It was April 1993 when I walked into Nozaki Chu Gakko (Nozaki Junior High School) knowing I only had maybe five months left in Japan before my three year deal was up. On the Japan Exchange & Teaching (JET) Programme, we are allowed to sign one-year contracts to stay up to a total of three years.

Nozaki - or No-Chu - had always been my favourite school (of the seven total junior schools) I visited while in Ohtawara-shi. The school itself was more middle-class affluent, and so were the students. Their demeanour was very much similar to what mine was growing up in white, middle-class Etobicoke (now a city within Metropolitan Toronto in Canada). But this blog isn't about the students.

April was the beginning of a new school year... it also meant new teachers. One of my favourite teachers - Miss Noriko Ishihara had been transferred to Kaneda Minami Chu Gakko (Nan Chu)... and I wondered just who was going to be talking her place here at Nozaki.

I had ridden my bike out to school that day - maybe a 20 minute ride - it was warm but a sunny, non-humid day. I was wearing my teal (blue-green) jacket, black raw silk pants, had my hair in a pony tail and had a nice French-cut beard going on over my face. I looked goo-ood, and I'm pretty sure I knew it.

I walked through the front doors and over to the teacher's office where I bowed to the principal and vice-principal who both seemed genuinely glad to see me, as I was to see them.

I walked over to Mrs. Nagashima, the head English teacher, smiled, bowed deeply and greeted her like the old friend she had become. She always reminded me of my mother (in a good way). She sat down beside me at my desk. I glanced straight ahead and to the left and gasped audibly.

Nagashima-sensei (teacher) must have heard me, and smiled as I asked: "Who the heck is that?"

Ever smiling, showing off her teeth, Nagashima-sensei said (and this is all from a perfect memory, people): "Oh, that is (and I swear she put the emphasis on the word) MISS Kikuchi. She is our new English teacher."

If she said anything else after that, I have no idea. For me, it was love at first sight. Shallow, yes... but, this is me.

Kikuchi Nobuko was the most beautiful woman I had ever met (until I met my wife, Colette years later - I only mention that because she does occasionally read these blogs - especially when I write about other women).

Nagashima-sensei and I walked around the desks to Kikuchi-sensei's desk and made the introduction. It was slow motion. That's the way it felt. As well, I knew that every set of eyes in the office was on me, because it was obvious I wasn't the only one who thought she was attractive.

We bowed to each other, said hello, she told me we would have a class together in Period 2 (we would both have Period 1 off)... I smiled and said "I'm looking forward to working with you", and walked quietly back around to my desk.

I don't know what made me do it, but I did it. At that time, I was on some kind of roll with creative writing. I could touch pen to paper and stuff would evolve. Much like today, when I write, I often have no idea what I'm going to write until it comes out. It's always a nice surprise.

Anyhow, putting pen to paper, I wrote a Japanese poem - a haiku, a three-lined poem where the first and third lines are composed of five syllables and the second line is seven syllables. Here's what came out on a clean, white, ruled paper:

Her beautiful eyes
Seem to hypnotize my soul
Capturing my heart.

Nice, huh? I wrote it in less than 20 seconds. I didn't even need to count the syllables - I just knew it was perfect.

I don't know what made me do this either, but I got up, walked around the desks to Kikuchi-sensei and said (as she looked up at me): "Here... I wrote this for you."
She took the paper, read it, and said: "That's very nice. Here."   
"No," I said. "It's for you." I then smiled, turned and walked back around to my desk.

Now you boys and girls might think that I was now 'In Like Flint' (had it made)... but as I sat down, I glanced over at her, and noticed she had put my poem aside and was quickly back at work. There was no blush in her cheeks, there was no sideways glance at me... she was just looking over her teaching report.

Stupid me forgot that this was her first teaching gig (okay, I only JUST realized that 18 years later), and she was probably trying very hard to ensure it wouldn't be her last.

She was going to be a tough nut to crack, I thought to myself.

When second period began, we walked up together to the classroom. I opened doors for her (it's not actually being polite. Men do that to check out a woman's butt), smiled and tried some idiotic small talk. Along the way, almost every single Nozaki student passing by, shouted my name in glee, bowed deeply, smacked my back, pounded my shoulders and grabbed my hand in greeting. I did the same.

Obviously, it was the guys doing the more physical greetings, but the girls were shouting my name out causing other kids to come running. I told you this place was great! Not just respect, but these kids were genuinely glad to see ME.

Because the class was a first-year English class, I was asked to do a self-introduction, as these kids had all just come up from various nearby primary schools. Now because I had been visiting primary schools every March while the Junior High Schools had final exams, the kids knew me already and were quite friendly towards me - as well, they were not afraid to speak their cheerful minds.

During my self-introduction (30 minutes long) that included details of my personal life (birth date, height weight, marital status (single), I showed photos of my family and friends, dog and car (thank goodness I had a Japanese Mazda 323!) that amazed them all. I also stupidly brought out photos of three female friends of mine, and called them my girlfriends.

What the heck was I thinking? I wanted a new girlfriend, and here I am bragging about three women back in Canada that I never even slept with! And why wouldn't they sleep with me?

I glanced over at Kikuchi-sensei and saw her look away - was that disgust on her face?

Thankfully, the self-introduction was over. But the kids had questions for me. Now Kikuchi-sensei, aside from her obvious beauty, also spoke English very well. Of all my teachers, perhaps only Tomoura-sensei at Wakakusa Chu Gakko (Waka Chu) and Shibata-sensei at Ohtawara Chu Gakko (Dai Chu) had better skills. Perhaps.

The first question: "Why don't you have a girlfriend anymore? What happened to Ashley-sensei?"

Geez... these kids had been doing their homework! 
 
I told them that we had broken up a long time before she went home last summer. (By the way, all of the questions were from the girls).

"Do you like Kikuchi-sensei?"

"Well, we've only just met, but yes, I like Kikuchi-sensei."

Not getting the answer they wanted, I was prompted again.

"Do you think Kikuchi-sensei is pretty?"

Giggles from everywhere, but I looked over at Kikuchi-sensei and gave her the once over looking her up then down, turned to the class and said. "Hai. So desu-yo!" Which roughly translates into "Oh, yeah!"
Then for good measure, I added: "I think she is a very pretty woman."

This didn't needed to be translated in Japanese, as one kid obviously was very good at reading my drool-spilling face and translated it for the rest of the class.

Thankfully for Kikuchi-sensei, she was saved by the bell... It was lunch time. I got to stay with this class (and Kikuchi-sensei) as we had our lunch doled out for us... by the way... the students were quite helpful... they purposely sat Kikuchi-sensei and I down beside each other... boys all around us, but girls facing us...  in a circle... watching us eat... watching our body language... let me tell you... there was NO body language suggesting anything from her. I actually glanced up at one of the girl students, looked over at her teacher, back to the student and slightly shrugged my shoulders. She nodded back with a concerned look on her face.

Even the kids knew I was hung up on their teacher! They also knew it wasn't happening!   

After lunch the girls and boys of that class grabbed me to talk - and we did - with me answering their simple Japanese questions with my crappy Japanese - but it worked. We discussed their teacher. It ended with a simple Ganbatte An-do-ryu-sensei (Good luck Andrew teacher).

I had two afternoon classes with Nagashima-sensei, and I must admit my heart wasn't in it... my heart was elsewhere. Or perhaps my head was... or was it my groin? Probably a bit of everything.

When class was over, Nagashima-sensei grabbed a camera and said she wanted photographs of us English teachers. Sure why not?

Check out the photo above. Look at Kikuchi-sensei's body language... she did NOT want to be near me. And me - bravely had my arm around her shoulder... yikes!

I went home, thought about onani (really, you should read this episode: WHAT?) decided against it, sat in front of the television and tried to figure out what I was going to do to get this woman to like me.

Somewhere realizing this episode IS about the students,
Andrew Joseph
Today's title is by Van Morrison. Listen to it here: 20/20.
PS: This is all 100% true. The students at No Chu really were this nice - and really were interested in helping me in my efforts with Kikuchi-sensei.
PPS: Nobuko, her first name, means "ever-expanding girl"... which I'm pretty sure had nothing to do with this 5'-2", 100 lb woman's size.

You Talk Too Much

Tuesday, October 30, 1990 – the Speech Contest

Matthew arrives at my place at 8:15AM, and we make the five-minute bike ride to the Ohtawara City offices to judge a speech contest featuring junior high school students from Ohtawara and surrounding small villages (where Matthew and Jeanne Mont Blanc teach. Jeanne lives in the same building as Ashley in Nishinasuno, and is a mature-acting, very intelligent young woman from Quebec who I’m sure likes to have fun, but is still a very private individual).

At the contest site, no one comes over to talk with us, except for Shibata-sensei of Dai Chu (Ohtawara Junior High School) and Suzuki-san (Matthew’s boss who was probably the funniest person I met in Japan and a super nice guy). Jeanne rolls in at 9AM – better she should have stayed away.

The speeches begin. There’s little difference in their reading styles, though the three girls I helped yesterday at Sakuyama are quite good and earn high marks from me. Oh yeah. We weren’t introduced at this contest or told how to mark the contestants, so I made up my own system – but we did get to sit right at the very front.

At lunch (it’s raining), we three AETs are served a bento box lunch by the female teachers, who also serve the other male Japanese teachers in attendance. Sexist or what?

Anyhow, after eating, we three head over to Mosburger for more food. I stop by the nearby Iseya department store and hand in some film and post a few letters.

We head back to the contest to listen to the remainder of the speeches. Boredom can’t even come close to how I felt. When its finally over at 4PM, all of the results are collected—but not ours.  Now I’m mad. Why are we here? Did we do something wrong? Is this our punishment?

Tomura-sensei (English teacher at Wakakusa Chu  (Wakakusa Junior High School) asks the AETs to make a few comments about the speeches we just heard. Wha-?!
I make up some stuff on the spot, as do Matthew and Jeanne. We’re all pretty angry as we ride home in the rain.

At 7PM that night, Ashley calls telling me she has no get-up-and-go (no kidding… it’s pretty much the cause of my friction with her). She says she knows she has schoolwork to prepare (She’s probably a far better teacher than me, because I have never prepared and will never prepare a single thing for my team-teaching classes in three years), but doesn’t want to do it. I want to call her a lazy cow, but think better of it. I know what I was like when I was her age (22 – I’m 26 in another week). I was lazy. I tell her to stop reading my Shadowland book and write a letter to her sister, folks and friends back home – her schoolwork can wait.

Matthew comes over – we make fried chicken (okay, Matthew does) and watch episodes of Quantum Leap and Max Headroom that his folks sent over in VCR format. I tell ya, that Matthew was a life-saver for my fragile mental and emotional health.

On a bathroom break, I pass by the room I call my den that has a balcony facing the west. I discover why my apartment is so friggin;’ cold—as my building superintendent must have come by to fix the lock on my den’s outside sliding door, and neglected to close it. I’ve had cold air blowing into my apartment for three weeks! The apartment quickly warms up, though a quick glance at my five-gallon goldfish aquarium shows me my fish are facing away from me with their large bulbous heads in a corner. I wonder if they suffer from depression. Does Ashley? Do I?

Somewhere asleep at midnight,

Andrew Joseph

Ego Rock

All foreigners arriving in Japan are immediately set upon by the locals to answer the many questions they have about all things non-Japanese (that’s me).

Is it cold in Russia? What? You know I’m not from Russia. It doesn’t matter that I’ve not been there... as a foreigner, it’s expected that I be an expert in all things foreign. It was a tough question, but it really came down to what time of the year... I guess it would be cold in the winter, but not in the summer. Giving me an “Ah so ka” (kindda ‘oh, I see’), I apparently dodged the bullet of incompetency.

While one might naturally assume that the Japanese are asking me these questions and more specifically ones about myself, in an effort to get to know myself and Canada better, rest assured that did not enter into the equation.

Questions in Japan are for knowledge, and knowledge is power. But it’s also for prestige. In this case, there’s a certain amount of prestige from learning something about the local gaijin (foreigner), as that knowledge can propel one up (or down) the social ladder—at least that’s how it appeared to me in Ohtawara.

Why down a ladder? Sometimes it depends on which gaijin you talked to. Getting chummy with Andrew, Matthew or Ashley – that’s a move up the ladder. Talking to one of the nice folks visiting from India at the Asian Farm Institute in north Ohtawara, could be considered a bit of a downer—not that the people visiting Japan and learning Japanese farming techniques  weren’t fantastic people, because they were—but prestige-wise,  they just weren’t Western enough, pardner.

Simply going out to buy film for my camera (yes, I am that old), will inevitably get me stopped by people interested in learning something about me. And that’s cool. I like talking to people – especially when they do so in English. Heck... it’s the point of me being in Japan. Well, that and getting laid. That was always there in the back of the mind.

Back when I was 23 (two years before travelling to Japan), I was incredibly shy. I know you don’t believe that, especially when I’m laying myself open with this blog, but if you think about it, it might explain that whole virginity thing I was afflicted with through high school, five years of university and two years of college.  Anyhow, the point is... I’m in Japan not to teach English so much as to teach the Japanese a bit about internationalization. Perhaps Matthew will be kind enough to give me the Japanese equivalent of that phrase in the comment section bellow? He’s a smart one, that Matthew.

Anyhow, I’ve come to the conclusion that the Japanese already know the answer to every question they ask the foreigners, but just get a kick out of hearing us speak English. Remember, just being seen with a foreigner is cool – but having a conversation – wow! You must be super frosty. And dating or more? Woo-hoo! Words describing how cool you are escape me.

Since all of Ohtawara seemed to know I was dating Ashley, I was only allowed to answer questions.

The following are some of the questions I was asked ad infinitum during my first three months here until someone got smart and had it printed up in the local newspaper. This is also true.

Following each question are my answers as they would have been seen if the newspaper had used my computer 19 years later and wrote in English.

• “Why did you come to Japan?” As long as the question is asked nicely, I usually answer: “I don’t know” and blubber for the next four minutes.

• Why aren’t you married?” “Just lucky, I guess.”

• "Do you have a girlfriend?" “I don’t know. What day is it?” (Was I already having problems already with my I-hate-your-guts-today-but-might-not-tomorrow-if-hell-freezes-over-girlfriend?)

• "How many girlfriends do you have?" “I don’t know. What day is it?” (Yes, I guess I was.)

• “How much money do you make?” If a member of the opposite sex asks – be careful. They may be looking for a spouse. I usually turned the question in my favour and asked them: “Japan or Canada?” Because we are dealing with English as a foreign language, I can safely state that most Japanese would only hear the word Canada, and will repeat it. I always made my salary in Canada higher than what I was currently earning in Japan. I found that besides making me look awesome for giving up money to come over and teach English to the youth of Japan, it will also scare away prospecting mates who will be stunned at your fiscal stupidity.

However, because I did have some brain function working, I gave the straight answer: “Enough to live comfortably here.”

As an aside, I made 3.6-million yen a year. A Japanese millionaire, though the US equivalent was $36,000. Not bad for a job right out of school with a recession going on in North America.)

• "Do you know how to cook?” “No, I don’t. I’m very hungry.”

• “How big are you?” Y’know, I was never sure how to answer this one, but I always gave the straight answer less the fact that I had a sense of humour confuse anyone. I told them my height.

• "Can you give us your impression of Japan?”My “Sorry, but I don’t do impressions. Ba-dump-bump” confused the heck outta everyone. 

To the newspaper’s credit, they printed all of my answers word for word... in English, so maybe 30 people understood it.

Somewhere a lot of people fell off the social ladder and went ba-dump-bump,
Andrew Joseph
PS: Yes... I really was asked these questions by an Ohtawara newspaper reporter – and yes, those were my answers. I never thought it would see print. Still, after it was printed, my boss Mr. Hanazaki called me a new phrase: odokemono. It means ‘joker’. After this, I was not allowed near the media without Ohtawara Junior High School English teacher Ryoichi Shibata by my side.
PPS: Not everyone is impressed with certain foreigners. See photo above.
PPPS: Today's title brought to you by Janis Joplin.

Why Can’t We Be Friends?

The photograph to the side here shows a poppy pin – something that is, of course, used as a memento for those who gave their lives in the service of their country in war. American servicemen after the ill-named war to end all wars – World War I, used the poppy as a reminder back home, while a Canadian Colonel named John McCrae immortalized it in his poem, In Flanders Field: HERE. Careful, it can make you cry.

The currency pictured below it is a 10 Peso bill called 'scrip' that the Japanese Government used as currency while it occupied the Philippine Islands during World War II. It helped show the Filipino people just who was in charge.

When applying to the Japan Exchange Teaching (JET) Programme, I was asked why I wanted to go to Japan. I answered that history is always written by the winners, and I wanted to see if I could talk to any of the Japanese folk about WWII – to get their take on things.

The first thing one realizes when traveling around Asia, is that Japan is not well-liked. Memories die hard. Japan utilized an expansionist policy in the 1930s and invaded quite a few countries – hence the resentment even 50 years after the fact, as someone always knew someone who was killed in said invasion.

When traveling to countries like Korea, Saipan or Thailand – when someone asked me where I was from, it wasn’t prudent to say “Japan” even though I was very proud of my adopted country. No, the correct way to answer it was “Canada.” For those traveling anywhere in the world, it’s also a preferred way of traveling safely.

At some point in time when I purchase a new scanner, I will share with you a photo album I picked up at a ‘garage sale’ in Japan – it’s a collection of photos from the 1930s, some of which show Japan’s expansionism in action.

People in Thailand et al, really maintained a hate-on for the Japanese to the point that they would begin to rave. It would always be about how Japan had tried to exterminate their people, and how even in defeat, they failed to apologize for their mistakes.

I talked by Shibata-sensei (and English teacher at Ohtawara Junior High School) about Japan and WWII – he said it’s NOT something that is taught in the schools, because it’s an embarrassing part of their history – one they all wish had never happened.

I can understand that, but failing to learn from one’s mistakes can doom you to repeat them.

My downstairs neighbour – who also runs the variety store directly below his place (and mine) was 72 years old in 1990 and was a soldier in Japan’s Imperial Army during the war.

Over a couple of bottles of rice wine (sake), he opened up to me through his 30-year-old son who acted as translator. I’ll give a better blog description of our party another time.

He said he was stationed in the Philippines, and while he surely did shoot at the enemy (Philippine soldiers), he says he has no idea if he actually hit anyone.

Acknowledging that the Emperor was akin to a god for the Japanese people back then, he and the rest of the soldiers blindly followed orders to attack others—even if he, himself, thought it was strange.

Strange - because these countries had never proved to be an enemy of Japan, so why should we kill them? While surely others thought the same way, it was never discussed. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, ‘The nail that stands up, gets hammered down.’

So he kept his mouth shut.

He told me in slurred Japanese that he and his unit had been stuck on one of the Philippine Islands for about four months – it was hot, sticky, bugs everywhere, snipers, dysentery and more. He had been a farmer before having to join the Army.

When the American soldiers poured onto the island to mount a counter-offensive to rid the land of the Japanese soldiers, the Imperial Japanese Army was only too happy to capitulate. He said they had long ago run out of proper food, they were all sick, and wanted to go home. They were all quite happy to be captured by the Americans because they knew they would be treated well.

I know, I know… the Japanese are infamous for their treatment of prisoners (Bridge Over The River Kwai – which I visited and have photos of – later) and of women – called comfort women, non-Japanese who were used as sex objects for the military… definitely not part of the Geneva Convention codes. And that’s just two examples – I’m sure there’s more.

On August 15, 2009, Japan‘s Prime Minister Taro Aso expressed deep regret over the suffering Japan caused on Asian countries during WWII. You can read an account of it HERE.

Japan to its credit does not have an airforce, navy or army – it dissolved its Imperial Japanese Army and Imperial Japanese Navy after WWII and replaced it with the Japan Self-Defense Forces in 1954.

It’s nice that the Japanese regret their actions in the war, but to be honest, if they really want to do the right thing, they need to apologize for their actions. It may not sound like a great distinction – but for those who were there, it’s an important distinction.

War IS hell. It’s not just a cliché. Not every boy who joins the army comes out a man. Not every soldier kills. Not everyone wants to be involved.

Still, on Remembrance Day (November 11) here in Canada and other Commonwealth countries, it’s a day to reflect and to thank whatever god you choose to pray to that you or your ancestors will not need a poppy to be remembered.

Somewhere - lest we forget,

Andrew Joseph

PS – Here’s a song about today’s title: HERE by War sung by Eric Burden, former lead singer of The Animals.
PPS - Special thanks to my friend Janice Bishop for helping out with the scanning.

Here Comes The Sun

Although I may have first surfed the so-called Internet back in 1980 with my Atari 400 computer and the telephone placed onto a modem, all that was available then were message boards. Ten years later in 1990 when I first got to Japan, it was still much the same.
Al Gore didn’t invent the real Internet until about 1992 or so, and even then, information contained within should have been taken with a grain of salt thanks to 90 per cent of the information that wasn’t porn, was inaccurate. The porn may have been inaccurate, too.
I mention this because in 1990, I really had no concept of what Japan was like, except that all of my pre-conceived notions may have been incorrect.
I knew there were navy-blue suit clad Japanese men with glasses and Moe Howard haircuts; there were radioactive monsters; and there was sushi, which every kid on the playground knew was raw fish.
Readers of It’s A Wonderful Rife now know that not all men have the Moe haircut (see Shibata-sensei), the only monsters I’ve seen aren’t radioactive (giant spiders), and that sashimi is the raw fish meal and sushi is actually various fish, cephalopod, eggs and/or veggies wrapped in cooked sticky long-grained Japanese gohan (rice)--not American or Indian rice!--and nori (dried seaweed).
What I didn’t know about Japan could fill a blog every few days for years—see what you’ve signed up for!?
Here for your edification is some information about Japan’s climate, and because some of you have asked for it (okay only one of you), a brief mention about the time difference.
Weather you’re ready or not: Not all of Japan is created equally weather-wise because of its geographical layout. A map of Japan will show you what I mean: MAP.
While a lot of the country is situated east-west, you’ll notice that a lot of it also stretches north-south. It’s because of this verticality that Japan has a very varied climate.
There’s teeth-chattering Sub-Arctic weather to the north (Hokkaido or the disputed Kuril Islands claimed by Japan, but occupied by Russia since 1947), Sub-Tropical (Okinawa) to the very south (Okinawa), while the larger Kansai, Chubu and Kanto regions on the mainland are considered Humid-subtropical and have the variable four seasons just like Toronto.
Honestly, the weather for Ohtawara is very similar to Toronto—so, I lucked-in (-out… what the heck is the correct term?)
Winter is December 21-March 20; Spring is March 21-June 20; Summer is June 21-September 20; and Winter is September 20-December 20. Officially.
It starts to get very rainy in August and September, though August is also the hottest month and on average 11 of the 30 days of September are wet.
It cools down quickly in October and November, is downright frigid in December, with some snow (maybe three or four storms) between January and February—more if you are closer to the mountains. March is wet and windy, but cool. April is warm enough for you to wear shorts. May through July it’s hot and you’re going to do a lot of sweating.
Temperature for Ohtawara is (on average): 1.2 Celsius in January up to 23.1 degrees Celsius in August, with an annual average temperature of 12.5 degrees Celsius.
Hmmm, I’m reading this as I write it, and for the three years I was there, those summer month temperatures—especially August were always in the mid to high 30s where it was mushii atsui (humid & hot). Could some of this information I’ve glommed from the Internet be wrong?
Ohtawara averages about 158.7-mm of rain a year, with the wettest months being June through September (I’ll actually say September, as it always has about five typhoons roaring through the country).
Weird fact #1: Approximately 50 per cent of Ohtawara is covered by rice fields.
Weird fact #2: Ohtawara is 217.76 m above sea level.
Weird fact #3: Ohtawara’s official flower is the kiku (chrysanthemum).
Weird fact #4: Japan does not follow daylight savings time.
Weird fact #5: Japan is 14 or 15 hours ahead of the U.S. and Canada’s eastern standard time (EST) and 10 or 11 hours ahead of the U.K. Why the inability to peg down the actual time difference? Remember, o noble reader, we all have daylight savings time to shift on us.

Somewhere, you can’t believe everything you read on the Internet
Andrew (my blog is on the Internet) Joseph
PS: I might exaggerate, but you can always believe your stupid guide-jin, An-do-ryu.

Rock You Like A Hurricane

Y’know, I didn’t really do a lot of research on Japan before arriving. Honestly, I thought I’d chicken out because I’d get hired on full-time by the Toronto Star newspaper with whom I had been working for since April of 1990.
What I hadn’t counted on was an economic recession to hit meaning no one was hiring—especially the Star, as it generates the majority of its revenues through advertising, which is always the first victim of a downturn.
So, I had no idea what the weather was like—I assumed that it was a sub-tropical place, and that was that. If I had been smarter, I would have recalled that Japan had played host to the Winter Olympics in 1972 in the city of Sapporo (It was also the host of the Olympics in 1964, in Tokyo). Ya can’t have a winter Olympics without snow.
Fortunately my mother and father were paying attention and told me to take along my winter boots—a pair of so-called construction boots, and a winter coat, gloves, scarves and hats—just in case.
They knew what was up, but either didn’t tell me (not likely), or they did repeatedly and I just never listened (more than likely).
As you know, when I arrived it was bloody hot and humid in Tokyo, and my adoptive hometown of Ohtawara. It did not rain once all month leading me to believe that this sauna of a city was always going to be wet with humidity.
Being an idiot has its advantages, and its drawbacks.
When September came, so too did the rain. Kind of a constant rain – not overly hard – but one that lasted several days. And then it got wetter.
No one told me, but Japan has a typhoon season. Apparently most of the typhoons (what us North Americaners call hurricanes) hit Japan between May and October, with the months of August and September usually being the peak season. Well, if August was part of that equation, then September shouldn’t be such a big deal, ne (eh)?
It started raining on Tuesday night—after the first day of teaching for me at Dai Chu (Ohtawara Junior High School). No big deal.
For Wednesday, I wore a windbreaker with a cap on it. I then rode the 15 minutes to school on my bicycle built for gaijin. I rode into a headwind. The wind was howling and pelting me with shards of rain, making my face hurt.
To be fair, it wasn’t just me… the students had to make the journey, too. Worse yet, the primary school kids had to as well. Tiny little 6 - 11 year-old children blown about by the winds.
When I got to school, I was soaked right through to my skin. I hadn’t brought a change of clothes with me—just my school books placed carefully in my backpack—apparently it was waterproof, and allowed my back to remain reasonably dry.
Fortunately, there was a teacher there taller than me—if Shibata-sensei was a heartthrob to the female students, then this guy was the heartburst, as I often heard little girls sighing lustfully after he would walk by. Anyhow, the guy was about 6’4”, super friendly and had a great sense of humour.
Okay. Stop for a second. Having a sense of humour and being Japanese sounds like an oxymoron (a lot of stupid bull), but what I learned—and will show over the course of these blogs, is that the Japanese are just like every other peoples on this planet—struggling to make ends meet, worries about family, work, like to have a good time. Some are not so nice, and some are nice. Got it? Good.
Back to the wetness protection program.
So, he gave me a set of track pants, a t-shirt and a track top. Shibata sensei lent me some hair gel, and I was set like my hair.
I’ve previously explained my day (Click HERE for a revisit), but let me tell you about the ride home.
Informed that this was the beginning of a typhoon that was expected to eventually become a Category 3, I was offered an umbrella for the ride home.
An umbrella in a hurricane. Sure it sounds silly, but I’d never experienced a typhoon before, so what did I know?
Stepping out the door, I saw students and teachers alike pop their umbrellas open and watched as the wind quickly inverted them into so much worthless fabric and metal. Others—well, let’s just say I saw one or two umbrellas reach for the sky. Learning by example, I lowered the head of the umbrella into the driving rain and then opened it. Keeping the head pointed directly into the wind, the umbrella did a reasonable job of keeping me not completely soaked. My shoes had been skwooshing all day—that ginormous, heartburst guy didn’t have an extra pair of shoes, and they would have been a good 3-centimetres too small anyway.
Then I got on my bicyle.
I’m going to end things here—and we’ll pick of the pieces in the next blog.
Somewhere moist,
Andrew Joseph
Title sung by The Scorpions.

He's So Fine

Okay, it's not the most inspiring title for a blog, but it is what it is.
Ryoichi Shibata-sensei was a very good English teacher who made each visit to Ohtawara Junior High School a pleasure for me thanks to his wonderful sense of humour. He and I are both 25 years of age in these photos. To see a few photos of him, click HERE.

Somewhere wondering what Shibata-sensei is up to,
Andrew Joseph
Title is by the Chiffons because all of the female students loved his good looks.