Those Who Don't Like Children Are Most Like Children.

I'm back at the BoE for the last time in several weeks so I'll take this opportunity to waste my time writing this blog.

Yesterday was my first day of school, my first classes being the Year 6s at Miyazu Primary. It went better than I thought it would. Two days before this Nishihara-san and I went to meet the head Year 6 teacher to discuss a lesson plan, which went fine and dandy with Nishihara-san there. As we were walking back to the BoE afterwards I mentioned that I had never really spoken to a children before. “Can I come to your first lesson?” was the surprising reply. Nishihara-san is usually so busy with her daily tasks and extra last minute tasks given to her on a daily basis (on Wednesday it was hornet extermination with another BoE worker at one of the junior high schools) that she doesn't have the time to do stuff like this. This could only mean that she was worried I would fudge it up. She may have also heard that I didn't have enough energy in my practice lesson I did at the Kyoto AET seminar in front of the other AETs (who had to act like typical Japanese kids). She had nothing to worry about as it turned out. The kids were all pumped up and I sort of fed off that energy so we had a great tine playing a guessing game for my introduction where I gave them two options for each question and they had to run to the side of the class that corresponded with the option they thought was correct. When I asked “How old am I?” with the options 23 and 34 most kids ran to the 34 side of the room, and when asked why, they said because you're tall. Going by that rate by the time I'm 30 I should be nearing 180cm, the future is looking bright (and tall). I had no trouble communicating with the teachers and the kids which was a relief so everything ran smoothly. Nishihara-san was at the back of my first of three classes, taking photos which I have yet to see. Before that I had to say an introduction speech at the morning assembly along with another new teacher and a new student. My one-page speech had to be shortened down to the bare essentials as requested by the principal so that made it easier for me.

After my last class it was lunchtime and here at the primary schools they have school lunches. School lunches are the bane or saviour of AETs dietary needs. These meals are made by the school cooks and are served by a chosen group from each classroom to all the students in the classroom. A large bowl of seaweed covered rice was placed in front of me (larger for me because they thought I needed it), along with a small bowl of miso, a plate of tempura vegetables (after realising a spoonful of cucumbers was served with it, I asked them to not dish it out to me) and a small carton of milk with a straw. I love Japanese cooking and am not too fussy about what I eat, so this cheap meal is a life-saver from the usual bought luch boxes I get on my BoE days that cost so much by the end of the week, and it's about the only time I get my veges. Other AETs who are fussy eaters usually hate school lunches and end up getting permission to bring their own lunches. In the clasroom we sat with our tables in a circle and I answered all their questions about schools in New Zealand and my hobbies as we ate.

It was strange to see how different the classes were even though all three classes I taught were Year 6 classes. It really depends on the homeroom teachers disposition and class size as to how the students are going to act. I luckily had very enthusiastic teachers and big classes of 25-30 students so the kids were pumping and curious, but I've heard not all of my teachers will be like that. Some are kind of quiet and some are totally uninterested in English so will not participate at all, making the kids uneasy and follow the teachers lead. Miyazu Primary is the biggest school I have with the biggest class sizes, but most of my schools are far away tiny rural schools with classes as small as two students going up to about eight students. It's also interesting that you can tell which are your special needs students almost as soon as you walk in the door. I had one girl hold on to my arm for the entire second class and

After lunch I went home (one of the perks of teaching at primary level, I only have half days unlike Maggie at the junior high schools who has to stay there all day regardless of whether she has classes or not) and I ended up sleeping all afternoon to be awoken by Maggie when she got home at 5pm. I'm guessing she had a slightly sour expression at my coming out bleary-eyed and tousled after enjoying a long nap while she had to sit at her school (I know I would) but my eyes weren't really open by this stage so I couldn't tell. She had gotten a message from Rob requesting a meet up for dinner so after watching some more Red Dead Redemption glitch videos on YouTube, where animals are placed by NPCs but with the programming for animal movements still applied (I recommend these videos for a good laugh, search 'Red Dead Redemption Bird Man') we headed off to our usual haunt, Tondaya, for dinner with Rob. Although we have eaten here several times for lunch this was the first time we had had dinner here and we were invited to sit at a table with couple of local guys enjoying a beer and some fresh fish. One of the guys had travelled extensively throughout Europe even though he didn't speak much English and shortly after we arrived another guy with long dyed blonde hair, joined their group. He had lived in Canada and Australia for several years but was too shy to talk to us so the other guys spoke for him. Rob and I both had shrimp tempura and rice while Maggie had the meat, rice and miso set we usually have for lunch. The guys who we were talking to offered us all beers but Maggie and I don't drink it so sat out that round content with coke and cream soda (with real cream!) as the guys spoke to us, complimenting Rob on his manliness the whole time. By the end of this the guys were so awestruck by Rob they asked him to come back and have a drink with them some time and shook his hand (and only his). Maggie guessed that they probably thought we were his bitches as a lot of the guys in town thought a previous JET Jared, who frequently was seen with both his girlfriend and my predecessor Kim, was their keeper.

On Monday I visited two other schools including the most furtherest to get to school, Yourou Primary which will take nearly an hour by bus and walking to get to. This time Nishihara-san drove us (in the mayors fancy new hybrid car, as the BoE car was in use – this car was so fancy, that everything was electronic and Nishihara-san had to spend at least five minutes trying to turn the car on) and as we ascended the hill that the school sat atop of we noticed a ute in front of us with the limb of a tree tried onto the back, extending well past the back of the utes tray. “Ah, that must be the principal!” Nishihara-san declared when she noticed the danger level of everything on the ute was reaching critical. When he reached the top of the hill and got out, wearing an old, stained tracksuit, he greeted us cheerfully and invited us in for tea. His name is Yamamoto-sensei and he is one of the most interesting folk I've met here, he tries to spend as much time as possible outside and gets the kids into gardening and outdoor activities. He also loves building things. As we left I noticed the jungle-gym in the playground had been rather crudely modified with a large limb of a tree bound to the top bars of the metal structure, extending precariously out beyond one side with a swing made of rope hanging down from it. It was clearly Yamamoto-sensei's handiwork, and when I mentioned it to Nishihara-san she said the BoE school inspectors frequently ask him to stop making dangerous playthings for the kids, but he ignores them and keeps doing it. Judging by the new tree limb he had acquired on the back of his ute, he had his mind set on modifying something else. I am prepared to be enlightened when I teach my first classes there next Monday.

Despite saying I was not going to do kyudo again on this trip to Japan, I surprisingly found myself at the local kyudo dojo on Wednesday night. This place is on the outskirts of Miyazu next to one of the loveliest parks in town famous for its cherry blossoms and autumn colours and as I sat watching the students practice (they are all about in their fifties or above, but there is a young boy who is just starting out), listening to the cicadas going berserk outside in the surrounding forest, I decided to take it up again. The dojo master is one of the most skilled in Kyoto Prefecture and his students frequently win competitions because he is strict on form – probably the most important aspect of the martial art, more so than actually hitting the target. The whole process of walking into the shooting area and notching the arrow on the bow takes a long time and is all measured and assessed. You must take three steps to walk to your position, sliding your feet along the floor so that they don't actually lift off from the floor, then you must lower yourself slowly to a kneeling position without bending your back while holding you bow straight up in the air, notch he arrow to it slowly, rise again straight-backed slowly, lift your bow above your head, pull down, line up your target then finally fire. Everything is measured. Time to do each position, footsteps taken and how long your stride should be, angles of your foot placement, distance from your head and shoulder your bow should be as you are doing the four steps of spreading your bow, etc. Because the students in my kyudo club at school wanted me to get to the stage of firing an arrow quickly they had me bypass all these form steps so I'm learning everything again from scratch so I don't miss anything and after a year and a half of going to all three lessons each week I should be at competition level. And I'll finally get a snazzy black hakama and white gi to wear.

So that has been the week so far. This is probably going to get posted at the same time as last weeks entry as I have no internet at home now because the routers being a dick, and I can only apply for internet of my own by using the internet. Argh! I don't think I have anything planned for this weekend as the Yourou Junior High sports festival I planned to accompany Maggie to is off due to a fast approaching typhoon, so I've been told to stay at home. I guess I should catch up on the cleaning as the tatami mats are getting dirty an the shower needs demoulding. Yay! *Kermit the Frog dance.* For the next two weeks I have classes everyday (shock horror!) so I probably won't update this for a while as my days will be filled with manic kids and long naps.

Back to Kyoto Whether I Want To Or Not

It was back to Kyoto for the second time in one week on Friday 26th, but this time it was minus the sightseeing and general fun with only myself to guide myself. Jen came with and drove to Miyazu from Ine (about 45 mins away) in time for the 6.55am train. It took just over two hours with one transfer in Fukuchiyama and with an hour to spare we made our way to the poky little, slightly seedy coffee shop we went to on Monday. The old lady who owned the place, who wore enough make-up to cover four girls a third of her age, remembered us and remembered the iced cocoa and cinnamon toast I had last time so I barely had to say anything before she disappeared through the cigarette smoke-filled archway into the kitchen, to emerge again several minutes later with sweat and make-up dripping off her face in a reverse Stars In Their Eyes transformation, carrying toast. We moved on to the orientation that was at the Prefectural Offices and while the seminar on Kansai Dialect was very interesting, the rest of it was boring and I fell asleep during the admin seminar. The only other interesting thing was a guy who from now on I am going to refer to as Pornstar-moustache Guy. This guy was a quintessential hick from the back blocks of America, and looked like he had just come out of Reno 911. At first I thought his mo was fake so as a joke I said “looking good!” On closer inspection I found it was indeed attached naturally and now he thinks I was hitting on him.

Several hours after the orientation we all met up for yakiniku in Sanjo at a place called Chijafa, which was awesome. We took the subway to Sanjo and followed the directions to get to Chijafa after we were assured “you can't miss it”. Indeed that was true. One could not miss the massive red signs and after we waited for the elevator to take us up (while watching the tv screen that displayed what was going on in the elevator at that time, a guy adjusting himself), we loaded in and got off at the eighth floor to file into a long black glass corridor dimly lit by red neon lights and looking terribly R18. We had arrived late so everything was in full swing when we arrived. Pornstar-moustache Guy was unfortunately already drunk by this stage, and thanks to the alcohol's influence, was overly excited to see his mistakenly not-so-secret admirer. It was a dizzying experience in the red-lit, BBQ smoke-filled, extremely loud private room at Chijafa, but the unlimited food was great and the free-flowing alcohol was enough to make this whole long trip worthwhile.

Korean BBQ or "cook it your freakin self."

Chijafa gets the Kansas thumbs up from Jen.

We took the 9.30pm train back to Miyazu and got back near midnight only to find that Jen needed petrol to get back to Ine and all the petrol stations in Miyazu had closed at 8pm. Keita luckily knew of a 24hr self-service station in some back block so I got Jen to drive to his 24hr fishing shop (yes, there are people who come to get fishing supplies at 3am) and ask him to draw a map. I knew all of the words and kanji for the touch screen at the pump, luckily, then we headed back to Miyazu watching the wildlife come out of their homes for the night including a stag and a turtle (who we nearly ran over).

The next day (Saturday 27th), Jen came back to Miyazu in the early afternoon to pick up Maggie and I for our trip to the in(famous) Ine for their fireworks night. Ine has a reputation of not being able to hold on to JETs for more than a year. It is one of the most beautiful places in Japan but it's also one of the most isolated rural areas in Japan. It is particularly difficult for Jen as she doesn't speak a lot of Japanese and nobody in her BoE speaks English. She only heard about the fireworks as a passing comment from one of her neighbours so she wasn't expecting too big a deal in such a small town. As we drove into Ine the bumper-to-bumper traffic opposed our minds eye of the scale of this event. Ine is a tiny fishing town famous for the funaya houses built over the water, along the bay that houses boats underneath while the family houses were upstairs. The sheltered bay prevents any waves from being blown into the houses so there are hundreds of these houses lining the entire bay.

Funaya in Ine. Ii~ ne.

The beauty of Ine marred by a big head.

Food stalls selling the local fare from local eateries were set up on one side of the bay while people flocked around the concreted thoroughfare or sat at the base of their funaya fishing.

People partying at their funaya.

Jen eats a bunyon cut off some old man's foot.

I shouldn't have asked to try some kakigouri.

Waiting for the big event.

The Ine fireworks were shorter than Miyazu's and unfortunately (or fortunately) lacked the hilarity of the advertising heavy metal guitar breaking peace and quiet, but hilarity did take the form of the traffic wardens who waved light sticks that resembled light sabres. Every time I passed one of them I had the overwhelming urge to go “whooom, whooom!” and whooom whooom I did, to the great annoyance of the traffic warden.

"Hey. Check it out, I've got two."
"Shut up."

That night we stayed at Jen's big, fancy, old people friendly house (it has call-out buttons in the toilet and bath in case you get stuck) and had a second dinner of yakisoba while watching the “Dear Reader” Harry Potter narration series on YouTube. Hilarity ensued one again. Then it was off to bed with the warning that the monkeys that come down from the mountains have been pretty active over the last couple of nights, and have been scratching on her screen door wanting in. We never did hear the monkeys and also appearances of the dreaded mukade (massive poisonous centipede) and gejigeji (hairy, fast, jumping millipede) were non-existent so it was an unusually safe night in the country for us.

The next day (Sunday 28th) we drove back to Miyazu early to join the NZ Association and some others who were interested in international relations for a touristy day around the Tango area in a touristy bus. Masako and Keita were the only others I knew but we met the other gaijin who live in Miyazu – Holly from Canada and Javier from Mexico, a couple who teach English at the local private English school. They weren't terribly exciting so I never really talked to them, but I did make friends with a mother who is a teacher aide at one of my schools, Kunda Primary, and her two children one, Waka, I will teach. Her English was very good.

First on the list of touristy stuff was soba making at at the old Tsutsuda elementary school. This school is one of many I passed that have been decommissioned and are used as community halls despite their obvious neglect. Here we used the gym (which had pealing wallpaper and extensive water damage) and set up tarpaulins on the floor with six wooden boards on top to use as work benches for the six groups we were split in to. My group had the mother and her two kids, a grumpy old lady who had done it many times before on these cultural trips and was acting like a bossy know-it-all, an old woman who was going to New Zealand with the NZ Society in November of whom I was told to teach English but she had no interest, and a overly shy teenage boy. We were given buckwheat flour and water and shown how to mix, knead and roll it, then finally cut it, which all took about 30 mins.

Keep on rollin, baby!

The pro shows us how it's done, after kicking me off.

After all the groups cut theirs up it was all sent to the kitchen where it was boiled and served with fish stock and spring onions for lunch. It was so good I went back for seconds and thirds, as the portions were Japanese sized.

"My onigiri! Mine!"

After that we headed to the bay for a boat ride to feed the seagulls shrimp chips. I can't think of a more less-deserving breed of bird to feed these chips to. I'm sure boxes of these things could be shipped to African countries to serve a better purpose, but luckily the bigger tombi hawks came into the picture and fought the seagulls for them. At first when the bags of chips were handed out I thought they were for us so Maggie turned the offer down and I set about to open them and eat my fill. I had no idea why people around me were saying “tabechatta, tabechatta” (you are [regretfully] eating them), as I had no qualms about eating the chips, they were good. Then I realised when people started chucking them out of the boat, it was not people food. I had the overwhelming urge to say “sutechatta, sutechatta” (you are [regretfully] wasting them).

Birdemic!

Funaya again, with fishing nets.

Finally, we jumped back on the bus and headed to the last port of call, an old, traditional sake brewery. Here we were told of the history of the brewery and of the brewing process, all in Japanese so I couldn't really understand much of it. Here we had tasters then were ushered into an ancient-looking upstairs room with many round tables dotted around it for afternoon tea. Here we were served the yummiest cakes I have had since Berry Cafe in Kyoto, with lashings of sake, Timmy. In fact I was lashed so hard with the sake I had trouble getting about unaided. It was the host's fault – he kept refilling my cup. Jen on the other hand couldn't drink a drop. The law here in Japan is zero tolerance for drink drivers, and even drinking one little drop is enough to have your licence suspended or be deported if you are a gaijin. But thankfully some nice person in the group bought Jen a whole bottle to drink when she got home. And then it was happy home time. I was a little happier than the rest.

Sake! Cake! Sake and cake! What more could you want?
Maggie agrees.

So that has been the haps for those three days. This blog post was brought to you by Maggie's food facials. Monday brings trips to some of my schools to meet the teachers, then I begin school on Thursday. My lazy days at the BoE will be short-lived.