School Visit
Yesterday my sister and her boyfriend came to the Japanese junior high school where I teach. He has two inoffensive tattoos. I made him cover them up. Japan must be getting to me.
They got to meet the 3rd grade classes, introduce themselves and be the subject of a quiz. The students were happy to see them. Some of the less shy students asked them questions. Where did you meet? How long have you been going out? Why haven’t you got married yet? Do you like Japan?
All was fun and laughter. They got given paper cranes and enjoyed the experience.
Below is their quiz. Answers on a postcard please. The winner gets a tattoo.
Grace and Duncan - グレイスとダンカン
Grace - グレイス
1) How old is Grace? 何歳？
A) 26 B) 16 C) 36 D) 28
2) Where is she from? どこからきましたか？
A) 宮津 B) London C) Paris D) New York
3) How tall is she? 背が何センチ？
A) 268cm B) 158cm C) 128cm D) 168cm
4) What is her job? 仕事？
A) Dancer B) Baseball player C) Fashion business D) Fashion snack
5) What is her favorite food? 好きな食べ物は？
A) Sushi B) Salad C) Pizza D) Sashimi
6) What is her favorite sport? スポーツ？
A) Soccer B) Volleyball C) Baseball D) Skiing
7) Who is her favorite actor? アクター/アクトレス？
A) Johnny Depp B) Leonardo Di Caprio C) ヨンさま D) Cameron Diaz
Duncan – ダンカン
1) How old is Duncan? 何歳？
A) 26 B) 18 C) 38 D) 28
2) Where is he from? どこからきましたか？
A) 大阪 B) London C) Paris D) New York
3) How tall is he? 背が何センチ？
A) 175cm B) 185cm C) 1125cm D) 205cm
4) What is his job? 仕事？
A) English teacher B) Baseball player C) Dancer D) Music PR
5) What is his favorite food? 好きな食べ物は？
A) Sushi B) Tempura C) Pizza D) Sashimi
6) What is her favorite sport? スポーツ？
A) Soccer B) Wii Fit C) Baseball D) None
7) Who is his favorite actor? アクター/アクトレス？
A) Johnny Depp B) Robert De Niro C) ヨンさま D) Cameron Diaz
Sergio ‘El Kun’ Aguero- and his Japanese nickname
Small of stature but grossly talented big things beckon for Sergio ‘El Kun’ Aguero. The 5’7” Athletico Madrid striker is of a type not commonly seen in Europe. He has all the skills and twinkling feet of the traditional diminutive small striker, but also the cunning, strength and street smart that comes from a South American football education.
He also has a Japanese nickname.
Born in Argentina some 20 years ago El Kun got his name after his brothers thought he bore a resemblance to an ever smiling Japanese cave-boy anime character. Mispronouncing ‘Kum Kum’ they gave him the nomenclature Kun – and the name stuck. This season the 19 year old has really come of age, beating Barca single handed along the way. All will be smiles if El Kun continues in this vain.
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Kun is a friendly Japanese honorific used for males of junior status in the workplace, school or familial situation. It sounds cute and can be used by females as a term of affection toward a fondly regarded male. But as always with Japanese honorifics it is never clear cut and better too polite than rude.
Kum Kum - from Wanpaku Omukashi Kum Kum
A Sisters Visit
On Sunday my sister and her boyfriend came to Japan . I met them at Kansai Airport . Their flight got in at 8.20am, and they were through customs by 9.30. I hadn’t seen them since January.
We got a train to Osaka and drank beers in a wine bar/café/cakeshop next to Umeda bus station. At 12.50 we got a coach bound for my town – Nodogawa. They were feeling the effects of the journey from London and the beers helped them sleep on the bus.
After freshening up at my house we followed the sound of drums toward a local festival. The rural Japanese festivals are unusual enough to seasoned Japan ex-pats but to fresh off the planers they must seem crazy. The Japanese guidebooks are of little use if you are looking for a celebration of this nature. While advertised widely in the locality international visitors are distinctly rare at these events. My sister and boyf were treated to a side of Japan that few foreigners get to see.
The sights, sounds, food, drink and kindness on show combine to glorious effect. I knew many people in the crowds and was able to introduce my guests. They were offered beers and food at every stop and interrogated by giggling school girls as to why they weren’t married yet.
We were at the Migochi matsuri, a scaled down version of the famous Gion matsuri in the geisha district of Kyoto. The term matsuri is best translated as festival but on occasion Japanese folk refer to it as “carnival.” As the Migochi matsuri carries on well past dark it does not feel inappropriate to label it such. Festival, carnival, whatever - the Migochi matsuri is one of my favourites and I’m glad they could witness it.
That night they slept for 15hours and woke up at 2.30pm on Monday. We spent a lazy afternoon doing almost exactly nothing and then met my yank pal Lyle for some food and drinks in a local izakaya. Yajikita has beautiful gardens, quirky food and a lively atmosphere. It is run by parents of a student at my school and I know one of the chefs – a great place.
A ten second walk from the izakaya had us in Locazzita – one of the best bars in Japan . While quiet at first we were soon joined by two other groups both of whom I knew and one of which contained a player from my football team. A crazy night that went on way past the 2am last taxi was enjoyed and many drinks drunk. The ¥14,000 bar bill a sure indicator of a good time.
On Tuesday we woke up in varyingly hungover states. We visited Amanohashidate, a jutting sandspit that is rated one of Japan’s top three views. The water was too cold for swimming but we lazed upon its beach. It is tradition to eat rice cakes and red bean paste after a visit here. The fresher foreigners in our party did not find these most Japanese of delicacies enjoyable.
After cakes we drove up a mountain, past an old temple to the famous viewpoint. The vista is superb. On our journey down we rolled all the way to Mineyama and kaiten sushi. The joys of the conveyor belt were much more appreciated than the red bean rice cakes.
Football, Hangover, Kobe and Capsules
Vissel Kobe 2 - Gamba Osaka 1
Two Sundays ago I woke up with a massive hangover. I had slept in a capsule hotel in Osaka and been on two drinking sessions in the previous 24 hours. First at a festival near my house; second in various Osaka izakaya and pool halls. Binge alcohol consumption, sun exposure, dehydration and more powerfully, a lack of rest, combined to leave me feeling decidedly fragile.
Chucked out of my capsule at 10, I stumbled to a nearby Starbucks, ordered a chai latte and collapsed. I tried to nap on the table but it was uncomfortable and noisy. My kidneys and eyes were crying out in dehydrated pain but slowly I began to recover.
After some shopping, pastry eating and mango juice drinking, and a short ride on the Hankyu Osaka became Kobe.
The squad for the game comprised myself, two other Englishmen, a Catalan and an American. We headed first to a Chilean restaurant. There were pictures of Pele and General Augusto Pinochet on the walls and an Ivan Zomorano Real Madrid top. We ate meat pies and I braved a beer. There were no adverse effects.
Kobe Homes Stadium was called The Wings before its current sponsored status. It is architecturally impressive, an innovative, futuristic design, surrounding a pitch that saw action during the 2002 World Cup.
In England it is a rarity to be in the ground 10 minutes before kickoff. We arrived a good 45 minutes early to find a stand full to capacity. There was nowhere to stand but the periphery. Unlike many modern stadia, Kobe maintains an element of individuality.
The game itself was a drab affair. Gamba were pretty on the ball, but wasteful in possession, and woeful in defence. Vissel were more direct, forceful in their running and successfully upped the tempo whenever they had the ball. Targeting the space between the Gamba centre backs, feeding Japan striker Yoshito Okubo they caused panic.
Both Kobe goals could have been prevented. While Gamba looked the superior technicians and had the games best players in Yasuhito Endo and Michihiro Yasuda, they were outfought. Kobe rightfully won this game. If Gamba want to improve on last years third place finish they will have to toughen up.
Nodogawa Nobody
Tokyo is one of the most populous cities in the World. Every day it throbs to the footsteps of some 40 million people. Photographing it bereft of bodies is an unenviable task, but that is what Masataka Nakano has done in his book, Tokyo Nobody.
Where I currently live has a slightly smaller population than Tokyo. It is not uncommon to walk a lonely road here. Rush hour here sees a posse of hunchbacked old women scurrying toward the supermarket, or a gaggle of giggling school girls riding bikes and emailing on their mobiles - a megatropolis this is not. There is something refreshing about this.
Coming from London there were very few times when I could walk the streets in solitude. Before Japan I was working journalistic night shifts. At 5am when I was heading to my bed the city was waking up. While the city streets were quiet, they were seldom empty.
The occasional post alcohol binge night bus slumber afforded some memorably sparse views of famous London landmarks. Sadly I did not have a camera with me at those times other wise I could have shared them. Apologies.
What to do in Kansai: Art
My sister and her boyfriend are coming to Japan on Sunday. They will stay for two weeks. I am planning where to take them. While bored at work today I stumbled upon . . .
An excellent site, detailing everything you could need or want to know about artistic events in Kansai - Osaka, Kyoto, Kobe etc.
Tokyo mans should check this beat for details of forthcoming art ting in their ends. New York soon come.
I do.
Returns
On Friday Becky, an AET from last year, came back. Some members of the foreign teaching community in this region met up and honoured her return with food and drink. She was en route to a teaching job in Vietnam from Kansas.
It was funny to see her and ask questions about what it was like going “back home.”
She said it was good to go back but while all feels familiar a lot can change. Two years passes quickly. You can change a lot during that time, often without noticing.
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Becky once told a Japanese woman her baby looked scary. The words for cute, kawai, and scary, kowai, are easily confused. Be careful.
Hotcakes
Today I made hotcakes at the kindergarten. Hotcakes is what pancakes are called in Japan. They resemble Scotch pancakes and are delicious.
The new school year is fresh here so today the second year students made their younger counterparts a tasty treat to welcome them.
We cooked our hotcakes in big electric portable pans. There was no tossing, only flipping. The kids did a good job and only a couple burnt themselves, and then not badly.
I tried to explain the concept of tossing a pancake to the teachers and also about pancake day/Shrove Tuesday. It was difficult. They said it sounded delicious.
After cooking I lined up with the second years as they grabbed pompons and made a guard of honour for the first years. They looked scared as they walked up to their seats on the stage.
Their teacher called out their names and they shouted, “Hai.”
The second years then stood up and said their names, as did the teachers and myself, before consuming our by now cold, hotcakes. They were delicious. The second graders acted as waiters, the biggest hotcake was reserved for me.
After hotcakes we played a game, I think in England it is called freeze tag. If tagged by the person who is “on it” you must stand with your arms outstretched and legs open until another player crawls unfreezes you by crawling between your legs. I was good at tagging and freezing but too big to unfreeze anyone.
One kid got tripped by a class mate and smacked his head on a pillar. It was such a blow that he didn’t cry.
As I left I found a box in my bicycle basket. A surprise gift that contained Japanese sweets and rice cakes. A good day.
Obnoxious Intoxication
On Saturday I got a call asking if I wanted to go to karaoke. I was in Nagaokakyo, about 100 miles from my town. The call was from a woman I had met the previous weekend. I didn’t think she had my number. She was rude, but funny, the last thing she had said to me was “Give me sex.”
This time she asked if I remembered her; where I was; what I was doing; all sweetness.
I had been drinking in a bar near my house the previous Saturday. Locazzitta is an unusually eccentric drinking spot. It smells like incense, looks like the inside of a kaleidoscope, sounds like psychedelic dub, and is the most delicious nap location I have found.
I was with my friend Lyle. There were two other customers, a cute girl and her friend. They were sitting at the multi coloured bar, we took up residence in the arm chairs.
All was sleepy - the music and drinks numbing the start of the weekend. The hazy atmosphere in this bar can overcome, more than once I have succumbed to slumber there, but not this time.
As soon as they walked in the atmosphere changed. The one guy looked drowsy but the two women were wide awake. Dressed loudly and talking noisily they immediately increased the volume and upped the vibe.
One of the women was particularly boisterous. She introduced herself straight away in English, a rarity in Japan – especially in the rural parts. She couldn’t speak English but interrogated us sporadically in Japanese. She asked the usual Japanese foreigner questions: Where from? Why Japan? What job? Japanese food?
A guy from the ramen shop next door came in to give her some food; she dismissed him rudely and began eating gyoza. She offered us some and insisted that we eat from her chopsticks. Gyoza are fried Chinese dumplings, and spicy by Japanese standards. She told us that Japanese food was too spicy for us and asked for another pair of chopsticks. She didn’t want to use them after the foreigners.
She was talking more at us than with us – rapidly approaching drunk. Lyle tried to converse but his attempts were met with mild insults and admonishment for being poor at Japanese. It was quite funny.
I sat in my seat, enjoying my drinks, watching the fun. I wanted to tell her that Japanese food, while good, was the blandest I had tasted – and this coming from an Englishman. I didn’t. I joked with Lyle, or listened to her joke with him. Her male companion sat facing the bar, laughing occasionally. The other female in their group sat at the end of the bar not saying much, but an alert presence nonetheless.
While I kept my mouth shut my eyes were talking freely. From my prime corner spot I could see everyone in the bar. The eye contact was flowing with the quieter woman of the loud group and the cute girl of the original twosome, who were now thoroughly interested in the rest of the bar. She seemed to be making excuses to look in my direction. The looks were fleeting - a good sign.
I stood up to go to the toilet. The whiskeys and coke I had been supping all night seemed at that moment to spread around my body. I could feel the JD pulsing through my veins. Awareness of state at such times is a sure sign of being on the edge, I was nearly there. When I returned to my seat my memory clouds.
The quiet woman from the loud group is kneeling at my feet. We are talking. We exchange numbers clandestinely. The conversation now involves the whole bar. All is raucous.
It is passed 2am. No more taxis. A cold 40 minute walk home. Talking to the cute girl and her friend. The friend is driving and wouldn’t she mind dropping us at my house its on the way. And she doesn’t want to but the cute friend convinces her. And they are leaving so we pay and follow them out. ¥8,000 a big bill for two. And as we leave the loud woman says give me sex. But we leave. She is wearing a corset under a white blazer and is bulging out front and back.
We pull up at my house. And I look for one last time in the cute girls eyes. It is the look of an approaching, when your eyes seem magnetic. But the friend says something and the moment passes, we touch and they drive away.
I woke up with a slight hangover. No headache, too much drink and not enough sleep. I check my phone and see a message from the quiet woman from the loud group: “Keiです(embarrassed smiley).” I check my phone book for sign of the cute girls details. They are not there and my hangover worsens.
Two days later I received an email from her.
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It never rains, but it pours
My trousers are wet, I am sitting in the staffroom, and it is 8.35am. Last night it started raining and didn’t stop. I wore a hooded anorak under a 3/4 length rain coat on my cycle to work but my thighs are still wet to the touch.
It is Thursday, football training day. For the third week in succession it seems rain will stop play. In Japan it pours.
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The 18th century origins of the phrase ‘It never rains but it pours’
