Signs

It's Monday June 24, 1991 and I'm at Wakakusa Chu Gakko (Wakakusa Junior High School) in my city of Ohtawara in Tochigi-ken (Tochigi Prefecture). I'm an assistant English teacher on the Japan Exchange & Teaching Programme, having arrived in Japan back in late July 1990.  
I am so freaking tired.
Not only has it been a whirlwind past few weeks involving the break-up of myself an my girlfriend Ashley Benning, but I've had a week-long fling with a Japanese university student named Junko who turned out to be a tad possessive and who stalked me down to Tokyo Disneyland this past weekend. I had to pretend to be bisexual - which turned her off. Women - have been causing me to drink more than a healthy dose or seven of alcohol, and I'm really quite stressed about the fairer sex. While I still have a smile on my face every day, the smile is strained, as I am not feeling as chipper as I did when I first arrived here almost a year ago.
I'm also not sleeping much. I did have a dream about Ashley last night, though - extra horny.
It felt real - like she wanted me back as much as I wanted her back. I could feel her breath, her lips, the wetness of my tongue on her cherry red ni-... well... you know what a sex dream is.
When I awoke at 6:30AM, I cracked my neck seven places to the right and two places to the left - and felt better for having done it.
At school, I played baseball with the students and learned from the teachers that the Special Education kids are setting up an aquarium.
I love fish. (Here in 2011, I've been killing fish for 42 years).
This is the only junior high school in Ohtawara-shi (of seven in total) that actually has a specific separate teaching arrangement for these mentally-challenged kids. The other schools - they tend to make then stay in the regular classes - which may be good for their self-esteem, but the school work is far above their capabilities.
Anyhow... for some reason I ask if I can buy these kids at Wakakusa the goldfish for their new aquarium.
The teachers say yes.
Looking back (in 2011)... I'm unsure WHY I did this - except to thank them for letting me hang out and eat lunch with them at lunch... but perhaps it would have been better if these kids got to pick out their own fish. It never entered my mind back in 1991.
After four classes, I go home - driven by Tomoura-sensei (teacher) - the head English teacher and good friend. Despite being mentally, physically and emotionally tired, I ride my bicycle out to Nakada's pet shop and buy seven goldfish - one for each kid, plus one for my own aquarium at home. I put all of the goldfish into my own aquarium until tomorrow morning when I will head back to Wakakusa.
At home, I talk with Mari Ann about my upcoming trip to stay with her a night before we are to go and get our work Visas and check out a party at the Canadian Embassy in Tokyo. I also talk with Ashley about a dinner date with her tomorrow. I am pretty excited about it!
I head out to my night school conversational class and try to teach them the concept of time - it proves to be rather difficult.
I go home and watch a few videos. The telephone rings - I pick it up, but there's no answer on the other end. But I do hear quiet breathing.

Somewhere not seeing the signs,
Andrew Joseph
Today's blog title is by: the Five Man Electrical Band, a 1970s rock group from the Canadian capital of Ottawa. SIGNS

Cover Of The Rolling Stone

This story is nothing to sneeze at.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Somewhere my nose is running and my feet smell,

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


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

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.

Talk To Me: A Survivor's Tale of the Nagasaki Atomic Bomb

Originally titled: An Interview With A Catholic Priest. You'd think the old title would tell it all - well, not this time. Rather than get into a discussion of religious views, I thought I'd try to learn more about the man behind the cloth.

Pretty much right beside my apartment building sits the Ohtawara Catholic Church. I guess I'm not much of a Catholic, because I never visited, and only did so reluctantly after I received a phone call from the parish saying that they had received some of my mail by mistake.

Padre Bernard Hiyamizu Yoshimi is a member of the Order of Franciscan Monks living and working in the Buddhist-dominated culture of Japan. The Padre is a thick-set gentleman of average height (5'-8") with a full head of black hair with a few strands of grey that belie his 65 years. He has bushy eyebrows that peek out from behind his tortoise-shell glasses.

As with most holy men I have met, he has a cherubic smile. I think he senses I'm not afraid of him. I think most people he sees are afraid of him because of who he works for, and that makes them uncomfortable. It also makes him feel uneasy because of the suffocating effect his presence can have, though he wouldn't admit to that when I asked him later.

It was a strange feeling as I watched him grind the beans to make a strong pot of coffee. He asked me all sort of impersonal questions about my life in Japan as he served me some cheesecake. Between mouthfuls of delight, I began to chat with him about his life.

"I was born on Goto Island. It's a tiny chain of islands two hours to the West of Nagasaki," he began. Immediately my ears perked up as some quick mathematical calculations would have put him near the second atomic blast in his 17th or 18th year.

"You're right. My family moved to Nagasaki city when I was 12. I was there when the bomb exploded. I wasn't in the actual destruction zone of the bomb. I guess it was sheer luck or God's will that I was far away to have ben spared the nightmare," he says catching himself.

"But the next day (August 12, 1945), I went down into the city to help the injured."

I tried to study his face, but it gave no clue--I wondered if it shook his faith in God. However, I promised myself I would not get into a religious discussion with him.

It suddenly dawns on me that he walked into a city a mere 24 hours after it had been bathed in radioactive fire--and it was still burning--to help the injured.

"Well," he pondered whimsically, "you have to remember that no one knew how dangerous it really was. We knew people had very bad burns on their bodies, but we didn't know the atomic bomb would cause lingering death so many years into the future.

"So I went into Nagasaki and stayed there for weeks."

I hesitate to ask him about his own health, so he asks for me. "Am I well? I'm 65-years-old, and I'm happy with my life and with God." I wanted to ask him about what he saw, what he felt, but he sat there with such a grim resolve that I knew he was suppressing something. I just met the man. Best just to leave well enough alone.

In October of that year, he went east to Tokyo to enter the priesthood. He said he had reached that decision when he was 10-years-old, but it took many years of pleading to convince his parents of his calling.

I asked him if he had ever felt any prejudice for his religious preference - after all, here in Japan, the nail that stands up gets hammered down--conforming is expected.

He said he had never felt it, nor had his parents. He supposed his grandfather may have, because that was around the time of the Meiji Restoration. Not everyone embraced the views of the foreign visitors. His grandfather did when he converted to Christianity.

As a young monk, he soon had his own parish in Nagasaki. Now after 41 years in the priesthood, he lives in a small, rural city named Ohtawara, which literally translates to: big-rice field-field. His  church is always full with his small flock of about 50 people (including my friend Tomura-sensei of Wakakusa Junior High School). He said he did hope to add me to his flock. Perhaps his desire to talk with me was to measure my mettle--just as mine was to measure his.

It was then that I thought about doing a few more of these 'interviews' for some future project (this blog). Divine inspiration? The Father wasn't saying. He just sat there and giggled.

My talk with Father Bernard was not interesting for the things he had done while under his contract with God, but rather what he did prior. Hearing, feeling and seeing an atomic mushroom and then walking into it to help people makes him far more interesting than the labels of religion.

It showed me the measure of the man.

Somewhere opening up my mail,

Andrew Joseph

Today's title is by Stevie Nicks.
PS: The photo above shows the memorial in Nagasaki when on February 5, 1597, the locals killed 26 visiting Jesuit missionaries who were attempting to spread Christianity in Japan. The memorial was constructed in 1962 and contains 26 life-sized bronze statues.

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

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

Norweigan Wood

Friday, November 9, 1990

Up at 6AM, me and the girlfriend kiss and snuggle, morning breath be damned. I dress and leave Ashley’s for home. I didn’t even lock my bicycle last night because I figured I’d only be there a few minutes. But, this being Japan… and small-town Ohtawara, no one is going to steal the over-sized bicycle of a gaijin.

It’s a dull, cool morning. I ride home in a brisk 10 minutes and quickly get ready for school.

I do some dishes and swear I’ll do laundry tomorrow.

At school, there’s a bunch of flowers waiting for me and another Christmas cactus. I still don’t know why it’s blooming now. (In 2010, I have a Christmas cactus that supposed to be over 70 years old - it hasn't bloomed in three years!)

Class at Chickasono Junior High School is again kind of boring, but I do get to explain all sorts of cultural differences between Canada and Japan. I almost think I’d prefer to explain all of the cultural similarities.
Sasanuma-sensei drops me off at home at 2:30PM. Instead of going to the OBOE office like I’m supposed to, I go shopping at the local Iseya—a combination department store-grocery store. It’s fairly big, and honestly, it pretty much satisfies 99 per cent of my shopping needs.

By the time I head to the office at 3:30 (detouring back home first), Tomura-sensei, the head English teacher of Wakakusa Junior High School is waiting for me. He and Kanemaru-san proceed over the next half-hour to give me proper directions to Saitama prefecture where there will be a conference for all AETs in Japan—apparently I’ve been suckered into giving a speech on how to team-teach (More on that later). The event isn’t for another three weeks, but I appreciate the due diligence of the OBOE and Kanemaru-san to have Tomura-sensei proffer travel directions. I suppose my reputation as a dunderhead with no sense of direction has proceeded ahead of me.

Afterwards, the two of them read and translate a letter that was sent to them from that boy at Nozaki Junior High School (Nozaki Chu Gakko) who keeps phoning me. I’ve been to Nozaki, but I still have no idea who that kid is. Kanemaru-san is having a difficult time reading the letter, as apparently the kid’s Japanese is as good as my own. He asks if I will meet his English teacher on November 25 – that’s a Sunday! Anyhow, there’s also a nice photograph of myself and three No-chu (short version of Nozaki Chu Gakko) girls at Nikko--Syoichi Matuo (the girl immediately to my left) gave me the photo of herself and two buds - the back of the photo reads: "Good morning, Andrew!" I think she's making fun of the only line I understood of the phone calls from the boy at Nozaki who calls every night. Brilliant.

That done, Tomura-sensei tells me my schedule at Wakakusa next week. Oh the horror of horrors! I have ONE more self-introduction to make! Apparently this one class was absent the last time I visited. I’m unsure how an entire class can be absent.

This intro will make 73. Nuts.

I go home, relax and clean-up. I call Ashley at 6PM from me. She’s in bed. I guess I tired her out. Hee-hee. I know she’ll be asleep by 8PM. I make it to 10:30PM before crashing.

Somewhere dreaming about dirty laundry,
Andrew Joseph

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